Sunday, February 24, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
It's another race from outer space.
Lately, this blog has been neglected and I have nothing more than the excuse of the winter wonderland weather and my crippling upper respiratory infection to offer as an excuse to its neglect. An apology is extended to you, reader.
Today's technology races ahead with developments of fiber optics and digital conversion. Is it any wonder to think of why we are at the hands of corporate pocketbook foraging and structured pyramids of commission for our compliance and adaptation to its never-ending evolution?
Today at Shop and Save, there was an AT&T kiosk set up for DSL upgrades for $14.99. Being at the mercy of a crippling 56K dial-up connection for five years now is enough to interest me in an upgrade. I spoke with the guy working the kiosk, whose name was Lou. Within the first sentences he spoke, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance of his sales pitches and dead-end stories he used in his sales pitch to that of a telemarketer. He used ample amounts of technology jargon, facts and figures and frivolous information about speed and connectivity that leads to confusion and blind decisions of clueless telecommunications consumers every day.
Below are a list of steps that any sales representative should follow to lead to a successful sale and happy consumer:
1. Be yourself. Today's media and world in general is filled with people every day pretending to be something that they are not. Putting on a 'mask' and playing the part of a consumer's friend is probably the most idiotic and self-indulging move you could make as a sales rep. Your job as a sales rep is to sell things to consumers. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
2. Stay relevant to the subject matter. Telling stories about previous consumers and their absolute satisfaction with a product or service you are offering has nothing to do with the actual product or service. If a consumer needs this often useless and fictitious information, they will ask for it. If there were an opt-out button I could press to avoid these stories about 90-year old women getting computers for Christmas and installing their own DSL service, I would have pressed it before your lackluster story even began. You just wasted a minute of the consumer's life that they will never get back. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
3. Price-gouging is not friendly. For the record, statistics show that the majority of telecommunications companies avoid high-priced equipment pitches until the sale is completed. A DSL modem is required for DSL service. At all costs, avoid distracting the consumer with a low-priced service to achieve the sale of a high-priced piece of equipment that is required for the originally low-priced service you are offering. Offering $14.99 DSL at face value and tip-toeing around the $49.99 DSL modem is a poor move on your part; partly because the consumer will receive the bill and wonder where this charge came from and why it was not discussed in the original sale, and partly because you lied to said consumer. Neglecting the consumer's money is neglecting your position with your applicable company. The money received for a product or service comes from the consumer's paycheck and is put towards your paycheck. I don't put your paycheck in question, so don't put my paycheck in question. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
4. Become educated about the product or service you offer. Do yourself a favor and know what you are talking about when selling a product or service. There's nothing more self-degradating than not realizing that the consumer is laughing on the inside because a sales rep is talking about something they about a product of service that is inaccurate. The funny thing is that I previously sold BellSouth DSL upgrades at a telemarketing center and knew that x/mbps upgrades were only speed-efficient when downloading files from a direct source. Avoid running your mouth about page uploads and flash video animation loading times being double and triple the speed of basic DSL packages when there actually is no direct correlation to either/or. If you are unsure of a product or service's benefits to the consumer, avoid pitching them to said consumer until you become knowledgeable about each. You are lying to a consumer when you distribute inaccurate information about benefits that don't exist. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
I have completed this blog using a standard 56K dial-up connection and have no plans in the near future of upgrading to a faster service that AT&T offers. They have dug themself into a figurative hole hiring sales reps that are clueless and hollow-minded.
John
Today's technology races ahead with developments of fiber optics and digital conversion. Is it any wonder to think of why we are at the hands of corporate pocketbook foraging and structured pyramids of commission for our compliance and adaptation to its never-ending evolution?
Today at Shop and Save, there was an AT&T kiosk set up for DSL upgrades for $14.99. Being at the mercy of a crippling 56K dial-up connection for five years now is enough to interest me in an upgrade. I spoke with the guy working the kiosk, whose name was Lou. Within the first sentences he spoke, I couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance of his sales pitches and dead-end stories he used in his sales pitch to that of a telemarketer. He used ample amounts of technology jargon, facts and figures and frivolous information about speed and connectivity that leads to confusion and blind decisions of clueless telecommunications consumers every day.
Below are a list of steps that any sales representative should follow to lead to a successful sale and happy consumer:
1. Be yourself. Today's media and world in general is filled with people every day pretending to be something that they are not. Putting on a 'mask' and playing the part of a consumer's friend is probably the most idiotic and self-indulging move you could make as a sales rep. Your job as a sales rep is to sell things to consumers. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
2. Stay relevant to the subject matter. Telling stories about previous consumers and their absolute satisfaction with a product or service you are offering has nothing to do with the actual product or service. If a consumer needs this often useless and fictitious information, they will ask for it. If there were an opt-out button I could press to avoid these stories about 90-year old women getting computers for Christmas and installing their own DSL service, I would have pressed it before your lackluster story even began. You just wasted a minute of the consumer's life that they will never get back. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
3. Price-gouging is not friendly. For the record, statistics show that the majority of telecommunications companies avoid high-priced equipment pitches until the sale is completed. A DSL modem is required for DSL service. At all costs, avoid distracting the consumer with a low-priced service to achieve the sale of a high-priced piece of equipment that is required for the originally low-priced service you are offering. Offering $14.99 DSL at face value and tip-toeing around the $49.99 DSL modem is a poor move on your part; partly because the consumer will receive the bill and wonder where this charge came from and why it was not discussed in the original sale, and partly because you lied to said consumer. Neglecting the consumer's money is neglecting your position with your applicable company. The money received for a product or service comes from the consumer's paycheck and is put towards your paycheck. I don't put your paycheck in question, so don't put my paycheck in question. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
4. Become educated about the product or service you offer. Do yourself a favor and know what you are talking about when selling a product or service. There's nothing more self-degradating than not realizing that the consumer is laughing on the inside because a sales rep is talking about something they about a product of service that is inaccurate. The funny thing is that I previously sold BellSouth DSL upgrades at a telemarketing center and knew that x/mbps upgrades were only speed-efficient when downloading files from a direct source. Avoid running your mouth about page uploads and flash video animation loading times being double and triple the speed of basic DSL packages when there actually is no direct correlation to either/or. If you are unsure of a product or service's benefits to the consumer, avoid pitching them to said consumer until you become knowledgeable about each. You are lying to a consumer when you distribute inaccurate information about benefits that don't exist. The consumer realizes that. They are not stupid.
I have completed this blog using a standard 56K dial-up connection and have no plans in the near future of upgrading to a faster service that AT&T offers. They have dug themself into a figurative hole hiring sales reps that are clueless and hollow-minded.
John
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
There's a clamor in your whispering.
Lately?
I suck at life. School is quite hellish and my social life is crumbling under the utmost extreme pressures of today's definition of a utopian network.
I need pills, I tell myself. Xanax would be adequate and fufilling.
I'm dealing.
Fin.
John
I suck at life. School is quite hellish and my social life is crumbling under the utmost extreme pressures of today's definition of a utopian network.
I need pills, I tell myself. Xanax would be adequate and fufilling.
I'm dealing.
Fin.
John
Friday, February 15, 2008
An open letter to my box turtle.
A N + O P E N + L E T T E R
T O + M Y + T U R T L E
Dear Turtle,
T O + M Y + T U R T L E
Dear Turtle,First (and certainly foremost) let me extend my utmost sincere apologies for your name being Ding-Dong. When you were given to me by your horrid, white-trash previous owners when I was 12, my mind was blank. All I could think of was Bob or Larry. My mom said that both were undoubtedly stupid names for a turtle, and, because I didn't want to seem disagreeable, I acquiesced. But I wonder sometimes if you would have been better off if I hadn't been so annoyed by your anti-social tendencies and indecisiveness to eat bread and lettuce, therefore forming the acquisition of your current name of Ding-Dong. I was wrong for assigning you to this demise, as frustration became the best of me.
It would bother me more if I thought you cared, but you don't. You probably don't even realize that Ding-Dong is your name. I can tell by the way you act, walking with all your might into the full-size mirror because you've convinced yourself that there really is a turtle on the other side, that you don't understand much. You live in a world of confusion and mental peril. You are locked in my apartment and banished to pace the floors of the same five rooms for the rest of your life. When I feed you live worms and bread, you ignore it and trample over it, thus shedding the worm's blood onto my kitchen floor and ending an innocent life for nothing! Do you even remember that you don't eat dead worms? Why must the worm be sacrificed for your arrogant protest of captivity? When I take you outside in the yard to play, you instantly dart away as fast as your tiny limbs can carry you, totally unaware that if you ever did actually escape from me, you would no doubt shortly die hungry, lost, and alone on the streets of Saint Louis.
I wonder sometimes how I can justify my treatment of you. How I can feel so certain that I am doing what is best for you, even though every indication you have given has demonstrated that you want nothing to do with me; nor the luxury of a life without an aquarium and having free reign in my apartment, which is assaulted by the sound of Metro Station at 3 a.m., sounds of dance hall lust and human debauchery that must seem terribly terrifying and supernatural to you; nor with your diet, which consists of nothing but usually damp white bread and refrigerated earth worms; nor with your total lack of companionship with your own kind? You were a baby, I tell myself. You probably would have starved to death due to lack of feeding and fresh water; banished to an eternity of neglect from unconcerned owners that you once had. Living in the wild is tough, but living in captivity with owners that don't care about your well-being is worse. I am providing you with a better life than the one you would have had, even in your captive state, and even if you don't realize it. I repeat this to myself every day.
But what does this attitude really boil down to? How is it different from the ideals of politicians I despise who feel some need to protect us from ourselves? If, given a choice, you would crawl toward Freedom rather than Comfort (which I know you would, not even realizing what you were giving up), what right do I have to stop you?
There are arguments, justifications. I've been through them. These are the times when I am thankful that I completed a sociology class in high school , because it is clear that none of the arguments in favor of a paternalistic government rest on solid premises. I also cannot argue that I am in any way "superior" to you; we are only different sorts of creatures with different fundamental morals and goals in our short mortality.
So, in the end, I really can't justify myself, but nor do I plan to release you. The guilt I feel at ignoring this ethical paradox is greater than you could possibly imagine (keeping in mind that your wildest imaginings probably consist of nothing more than unknown combinations of sun-bathing and burrowing in wet soil). But I have tried. I have extended the twin hands of friendship and understanding, which is more than I can say for you. Do you remember the cardboard box lined with an old shirt I constructed for you to contribute to your warmth in winter hibernation? You urinated in it. The recently acquired female turtle roommate? You attacked her, biting both her arms and shell. After this cowardly display of masculinity, you tried to have sex with her! You proceeded on top of her as if this act of masochistic violence never occurred. I don't know what sick and twisted hostility bereaves your small turtle brain resulting in your unthinking brutality but us human creatures call this rape. It's a crime and it's not socially acceptable. Did you try in any way to show appreciation for the fact that I leave the curtains ajar to welcome in the warm sunlight, only to come home after school and watch you scurry away from me in fright and horror - as if I am some menacing giant looking to harm you. Your lunacy binge has gone on too long, small friend. It's time to turn your life around.
But I forgive you. It is not your fault, I remind myself; it is your nature. And this, I have come to realize, is the purest form of love. A love that requires nothing, that appreciates a being simply for being what it is, without thought of reward or reciprocation. I thank you for helping me find this almost Christ-like compassion within myself, a love that gives all with the full knowledge that nothing, not even the simple cognition of my kind acts, is forthcoming. Because I realize, all too well, that should you one day become much larger, due to, say, some sort of "enlarge laser," you would not hesitate to devour me.
I love you, Ding-Dong. My turtle, my pet, my friend.
John
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Read a book, read a book.
Today, someone in my CreativeDotComm group asked me if I knew if they had wireless internet in the library here at my school. Every time anyone asks me about something (anything, really) about the library, I tell them that I don't know.
This made utmost discord in my self-esteem. Why don't I come to the library more often? Why don't I read books more often? Why can't I just come to the library just to look around?
An few hours later, here I am in the library. Yes, they have wireless internet. Yes, they have books. Tons of books. Shelves and rows and tables of books. I think I might check one out today. I want to know about box turtles. I want to know about why Pluto isn't a planet anymore. And finally I want to know about tornadoes. I will find a book about each of those and study them and educate myself on information that most likely will only be used if I ever am a contestant on Jeopardy! Why is there an exclamation mark on the end of Jeopardy!'s logo, anyway? Maybe they have a book about the history of game shows. Let me look into that.
After CreativeDotComm class, we had a portfolio meeting with E-vannnn Ri-chaaards about what we need to have prepared by mid-term. Similar to Amy's latest blog entry, I am writing about how god damned scary this whole situation of getting an impressive graphics portfolio together in just a month or two is. She had samples layed out for us on what her previous Portfolio Design students did in previous semesters. These resumes/portfolios/gravity-defying pieces were too much for me to handle. There were fold-out envelopes and pockets and die-cut monstrosities on them. This leaves me to wonder: What the hell am I going to do to assure myself that a graphics firm would hire a freak like me? I need to start sketching and thumbnailing ideas on what I want mine to look like. I especially love portfolio meetings with E-vannn because it is the only opportunity that us graphic design students have with her and just her. She makes me feel validated and talented when she speaks about all the possibilities we have after we graduate from a community college with an AAS. Should I even go to Webster? Are the opportunities so abundant out there in the industry that an impressive portfolio from a community college is all one needs to go to an interview at a firm?
In conclusion, this library has magazines too. Not just Newsweek and Popular Science; but OK! and People. I am so dead. My school is so hood rich and I never want to graduate.
John
This made utmost discord in my self-esteem. Why don't I come to the library more often? Why don't I read books more often? Why can't I just come to the library just to look around?
An few hours later, here I am in the library. Yes, they have wireless internet. Yes, they have books. Tons of books. Shelves and rows and tables of books. I think I might check one out today. I want to know about box turtles. I want to know about why Pluto isn't a planet anymore. And finally I want to know about tornadoes. I will find a book about each of those and study them and educate myself on information that most likely will only be used if I ever am a contestant on Jeopardy! Why is there an exclamation mark on the end of Jeopardy!'s logo, anyway? Maybe they have a book about the history of game shows. Let me look into that.
After CreativeDotComm class, we had a portfolio meeting with E-vannnn Ri-chaaards about what we need to have prepared by mid-term. Similar to Amy's latest blog entry, I am writing about how god damned scary this whole situation of getting an impressive graphics portfolio together in just a month or two is. She had samples layed out for us on what her previous Portfolio Design students did in previous semesters. These resumes/portfolios/gravity-defying pieces were too much for me to handle. There were fold-out envelopes and pockets and die-cut monstrosities on them. This leaves me to wonder: What the hell am I going to do to assure myself that a graphics firm would hire a freak like me? I need to start sketching and thumbnailing ideas on what I want mine to look like. I especially love portfolio meetings with E-vannn because it is the only opportunity that us graphic design students have with her and just her. She makes me feel validated and talented when she speaks about all the possibilities we have after we graduate from a community college with an AAS. Should I even go to Webster? Are the opportunities so abundant out there in the industry that an impressive portfolio from a community college is all one needs to go to an interview at a firm?
In conclusion, this library has magazines too. Not just Newsweek and Popular Science; but OK! and People. I am so dead. My school is so hood rich and I never want to graduate.
John
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
I'll tell my friends you're so annoying.
It never occurred to me I can be a dick sometimes. Wow. I've been a dick. I don't know where I get off or what my issues are in my usual non-impressionable brain that I frown upon people that piss me off regularly and tell people that I can't stand others when I am the one who could avoid these seemingly often unavoidable occurrences.
Since when did sucker-punching and tearing apart someone's vulnerable intellect become the softest pillow in society's bed of life? Since when did I become someone that I would not want to talk to if I knew myself outside of my own person? When will I cease this raid on the world at large?
It's now been made clear to me that I can be a dick without thinking certain situations through. I proved it to myself and am somewhat proud that no one offered this advice to me. It assures me that I still have a solid connection with my everyday actions and thoughts.
For those who don't know, I am in this class called CreativeDotComm, which is a pre-entrance into the ongoing chaos of the paradox known as the 'design industry.' In this class we design various ideas for not-for-profit clients like logos, brochures, posters and that of the sort. I have a pretty sweet group, as I am the mentor of my group because I've completed this course two previous semesters in a row. In my group, I have a dude that used to be in the band Calico System, a dude that's opening up a venue downtown in late spring and finally, the notorious boy mystery known as (for code name's sake) Erratic Not-So-Average Joe. Erratic Not-So-Average Joe is someone I never understood. He is loud when he speaks, coughs without his hand over his mouth, doesn't wash his hands and fails to understand even the most mild forms of sarcastic humor. Erratic Not-So-Average Joe lays out on the benches in the hall in between classes and stretches his arms when he gets up, exposing his not so slim stomach. Erratic Not-So-Average Joe defies any practical law of general society, often fades away with frayed ends in social situations and is quite indecisive.
It is apparent that Erratic Not-So-Average Joe is not like the rest of the students in the class and everyone knows it. He would remind some of a bittersweet combination of Napoleon Dynamite and Arnie from 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape' and it's not anything that Erratic Not-So-Average Joe can prevent himself from or pretend not to be. It's just who he is. He is who he is and no one can change this. It would be frivolous and unsounded to think differently.
I am who I am and expect no one to knock on my integrity as a person regardless of my actions, words or appearance. People hate people and make fun of others every day around the world. People make comments that are less-than-par to flatter their character as the person they are striving to be. I don't want to be that type of person. I want to cope with difference and embrace the obvious as if it were the truth in face-value.
When I listen to myself speak, I expect nothing to come out of my mouth that would make me feel like I am being a dick. Today I felt like a dick.
Tomorrow I don't want to be a dick.
John
Since when did sucker-punching and tearing apart someone's vulnerable intellect become the softest pillow in society's bed of life? Since when did I become someone that I would not want to talk to if I knew myself outside of my own person? When will I cease this raid on the world at large?
It's now been made clear to me that I can be a dick without thinking certain situations through. I proved it to myself and am somewhat proud that no one offered this advice to me. It assures me that I still have a solid connection with my everyday actions and thoughts.
For those who don't know, I am in this class called CreativeDotComm, which is a pre-entrance into the ongoing chaos of the paradox known as the 'design industry.' In this class we design various ideas for not-for-profit clients like logos, brochures, posters and that of the sort. I have a pretty sweet group, as I am the mentor of my group because I've completed this course two previous semesters in a row. In my group, I have a dude that used to be in the band Calico System, a dude that's opening up a venue downtown in late spring and finally, the notorious boy mystery known as (for code name's sake) Erratic Not-So-Average Joe. Erratic Not-So-Average Joe is someone I never understood. He is loud when he speaks, coughs without his hand over his mouth, doesn't wash his hands and fails to understand even the most mild forms of sarcastic humor. Erratic Not-So-Average Joe lays out on the benches in the hall in between classes and stretches his arms when he gets up, exposing his not so slim stomach. Erratic Not-So-Average Joe defies any practical law of general society, often fades away with frayed ends in social situations and is quite indecisive.
It is apparent that Erratic Not-So-Average Joe is not like the rest of the students in the class and everyone knows it. He would remind some of a bittersweet combination of Napoleon Dynamite and Arnie from 'What's Eating Gilbert Grape' and it's not anything that Erratic Not-So-Average Joe can prevent himself from or pretend not to be. It's just who he is. He is who he is and no one can change this. It would be frivolous and unsounded to think differently.
I am who I am and expect no one to knock on my integrity as a person regardless of my actions, words or appearance. People hate people and make fun of others every day around the world. People make comments that are less-than-par to flatter their character as the person they are striving to be. I don't want to be that type of person. I want to cope with difference and embrace the obvious as if it were the truth in face-value.
When I listen to myself speak, I expect nothing to come out of my mouth that would make me feel like I am being a dick. Today I felt like a dick.
Tomorrow I don't want to be a dick.
John
Sunday, February 10, 2008
The sky is dead.
I have not yet asphyxiated my utmost urges to suffocate myself in sleep deprivation. I don't know if it's the need to remember the memories that I have of today; or memories that I have of the past. I guess I should talk about the memories that I have regarding sleep deprivation.
I remember driving through Minnesota with Suzi and seeing visions that changed my life indefinitely. Seeing George W. Bush, seeing the weapons of mass destruction and seeing the birds of prey often wet my tongue for an often mind-altering and memorable experience to see something more than I am. Listening to music while typing this does not prove helpful, as it often is the hindrance to my many sleep deprived journeys through life. Traveling through Pennsylvania with Duck and seeing the Democratic girlfriend with the Republican boyfriend and the van on the side of the road in Po-Dunk, PA does not prove helpful in this self-conscious complex. I wonder if the 'one-eye-shadow-boy' has these function-less mental debates.
I have no clue how tomorrow will help me bring justice to this often fruitless and monotonous society of filthy injustice but am sure that singing songs of debauchery and decadence will guide me through, yes?
I saw Kathy Griffin tonight live at The Fox Theater. Is there no wonder I am wide awake? I am scarred for life. I will make Jessica mine.
20 minutes on the clock and we'll give it all that we've got.
John
I remember driving through Minnesota with Suzi and seeing visions that changed my life indefinitely. Seeing George W. Bush, seeing the weapons of mass destruction and seeing the birds of prey often wet my tongue for an often mind-altering and memorable experience to see something more than I am. Listening to music while typing this does not prove helpful, as it often is the hindrance to my many sleep deprived journeys through life. Traveling through Pennsylvania with Duck and seeing the Democratic girlfriend with the Republican boyfriend and the van on the side of the road in Po-Dunk, PA does not prove helpful in this self-conscious complex. I wonder if the 'one-eye-shadow-boy' has these function-less mental debates.
I have no clue how tomorrow will help me bring justice to this often fruitless and monotonous society of filthy injustice but am sure that singing songs of debauchery and decadence will guide me through, yes?
I saw Kathy Griffin tonight live at The Fox Theater. Is there no wonder I am wide awake? I am scarred for life. I will make Jessica mine.
20 minutes on the clock and we'll give it all that we've got.
John
Thursday, February 7, 2008
You can run, but we'll find you.
Is it any wonder why these people in this world are so fucked? I'll tell you why. Oh yeah, I'll tell you why. They spend too much time hating and disagreeing with stuff that does not concern them. They act like they don't know it's wasting both my and their time. But they know. Oh yeah, they fricken know.
Today at school, I was walking down to The Scene to clean up my final page layout and make some corrections on my bookshop ad. There's kind of like a 'commons' area by the bookstore with a bulletin board that people hang stuff on. On it today was a poster for a 'No-Smoking Walk' encouraging non-smoking students and staff to come to Forest Park (the actual park, not my school) some day in the future that I cannot remember and walk against smoking. I'm ready to type this.
What are the problems with this pitiful poster? Let's analyze them with a simple and easy-to-read list!
a. Why would you possibly want to walk against smoking when you are a non-smoker? What sense does that make? What are you trying to protest and prove to the world? How stupid smokers are? Are you trying to save us from the tobacco companies? Honestly, do you think us smokers will look at your stupid fucking protest march and magically say "Hmm, maybe they are on to something here," and quit smoking? Simple-minded, arbitrary, and subject to debate to say the least.
b. When I smoke a cigarette, I know the smoke is going into my lungs. I know that smoking is increasing my risk to form cancer in my lungs and throat. I might even just get me some heart disease. But I also know that smoking cigarettes is my personal health choice. No one else's. The nay-sayers will (of course) say "But what about my health?! Your smoke creates second-hand smoke that I might just breathe in!" Honestly? Are you serious or are you just pullin' my finger? Is that a joke? I don't smoke inside of places that are non-smoking. And when there is a designated smokers' area, I use it all day every day. I smoke outside of school. If someone is walking past, I don't blow smoke in their face and taunt them with "Breathe that cancerous fume in or do not pass!" Simple-minded, arbitrary, and subject to debate to say the least.
c. I see the point of concern against heart disease, emphysema, and lung cancer. That's totally cool. You have a big heart and care about our society's health to ensure that future health care and insurance premiums don't go any higher than they already are for you and your kids. Totally awesome and more power to you. So why march against smoking when you can march against HEART DISEASE! March against EMPHYSEMA, too! And you go on ahead and do the damn thing for LUNG CANCER while you are at it! But never try to judge my personal health habits and what I want to do to my body based on the level of concern that you have for the actual habit as opposed to the health risks that the actual habit presents. I'll have to punch a fucking asshole in their pretty white chops before I let them pass judgment on my personal choices. Simple-minded, arbitrary, and subject to debate to say the least.
It feels like I am missing something here. Ah, yes. The ending to my story.
I tore that fucking poster down and ripped it in half and threw it in the trash. Then went to all the bulletin boards on the fourth floor of the A, B, C, and D towers and tore those posters up too.
I was so stressed after that, I smoked a cigarette.
I am so stressed after typing this blog that I need a cigarette.
Imma smoke one now. Right here. This smoke goes out to all who took the time to read this blog. Don't worry, I'll save some second-hand smoke for you. :D
John
Today at school, I was walking down to The Scene to clean up my final page layout and make some corrections on my bookshop ad. There's kind of like a 'commons' area by the bookstore with a bulletin board that people hang stuff on. On it today was a poster for a 'No-Smoking Walk' encouraging non-smoking students and staff to come to Forest Park (the actual park, not my school) some day in the future that I cannot remember and walk against smoking. I'm ready to type this.
What are the problems with this pitiful poster? Let's analyze them with a simple and easy-to-read list!
a. Why would you possibly want to walk against smoking when you are a non-smoker? What sense does that make? What are you trying to protest and prove to the world? How stupid smokers are? Are you trying to save us from the tobacco companies? Honestly, do you think us smokers will look at your stupid fucking protest march and magically say "Hmm, maybe they are on to something here," and quit smoking? Simple-minded, arbitrary, and subject to debate to say the least.
b. When I smoke a cigarette, I know the smoke is going into my lungs. I know that smoking is increasing my risk to form cancer in my lungs and throat. I might even just get me some heart disease. But I also know that smoking cigarettes is my personal health choice. No one else's. The nay-sayers will (of course) say "But what about my health?! Your smoke creates second-hand smoke that I might just breathe in!" Honestly? Are you serious or are you just pullin' my finger? Is that a joke? I don't smoke inside of places that are non-smoking. And when there is a designated smokers' area, I use it all day every day. I smoke outside of school. If someone is walking past, I don't blow smoke in their face and taunt them with "Breathe that cancerous fume in or do not pass!" Simple-minded, arbitrary, and subject to debate to say the least.
c. I see the point of concern against heart disease, emphysema, and lung cancer. That's totally cool. You have a big heart and care about our society's health to ensure that future health care and insurance premiums don't go any higher than they already are for you and your kids. Totally awesome and more power to you. So why march against smoking when you can march against HEART DISEASE! March against EMPHYSEMA, too! And you go on ahead and do the damn thing for LUNG CANCER while you are at it! But never try to judge my personal health habits and what I want to do to my body based on the level of concern that you have for the actual habit as opposed to the health risks that the actual habit presents. I'll have to punch a fucking asshole in their pretty white chops before I let them pass judgment on my personal choices. Simple-minded, arbitrary, and subject to debate to say the least.
It feels like I am missing something here. Ah, yes. The ending to my story.
I tore that fucking poster down and ripped it in half and threw it in the trash. Then went to all the bulletin boards on the fourth floor of the A, B, C, and D towers and tore those posters up too.
I was so stressed after that, I smoked a cigarette.
I am so stressed after typing this blog that I need a cigarette.
Imma smoke one now. Right here. This smoke goes out to all who took the time to read this blog. Don't worry, I'll save some second-hand smoke for you. :D
John
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Positive reinforcement.
The etiquette for "excuse me," "thank you," and "you're welcome" is changing every day. When I was younger, I was always taught to do three things: a. hold the door open for someone if they are walking in and/or out the same time as you, b. Say thank you to someone who has done or said something to you that made you feel great, and c. If someone feels the need to tell you thank you, you should feel the need to say you're welcome.
Do you ever hold the door open for someone with their hands full only for them to walk right past you without even making eye contact as if they are totally oblivious to your selfless gesture? My favorite is when someone bumps into me and says "excuse me" in that snide tone like you know they think you bumped into them.
Am I just totally prone to these situations? It makes me want to stop this endless process of common courtesy. I know I am not the only dude in this world that still exercises the simple and primitive practice of common courtesy but can't help but wonder if I am somehow going to be the last. Why be nice for no reason anymore when people every day are not? Should I consider myself fortunate to act like this?
I do these things because it makes me feel awesome as a person. I know I can and I know I probably will keep doing the same. It doesn't bother me now that I've typed all of it out and see how futile it is.
In other news, I am surprised to see how many bands that I like are Christian-based. Relient K is one band that I've been listening to for about seven years that are faith-based. I knew that they were Christian since I first started listening to them but that doesn't and never did bother me. I am not a Christian and am not remotely compelled to start following similar Christ-based faiths resulting in buying their albums and going to their shows. I appreciated them for their upbeat and often tongue-in-cheek songs and lyrics.
I suppose I am not as easily gullible as some kids these days but can honestly say that I've grown a new appreciation for Christian hardcore and alternative bands these days. Knowing that your band and its faith are going to receive scrutiny and criticism but playing your music anyway is totally courageous. Playing Christian rock and playing political rock are totally similar. You're putting you beliefs out there and constantly singing against stuff. Whether it be preaching against sinning or the U.S. president 's dirty politics (which are not a far leap from each other) fans and critics alike are always asking why you believe what you do and trying to find reasons that you are wrong.
This world's filled with fucking critics.
John
Do you ever hold the door open for someone with their hands full only for them to walk right past you without even making eye contact as if they are totally oblivious to your selfless gesture? My favorite is when someone bumps into me and says "excuse me" in that snide tone like you know they think you bumped into them.
Am I just totally prone to these situations? It makes me want to stop this endless process of common courtesy. I know I am not the only dude in this world that still exercises the simple and primitive practice of common courtesy but can't help but wonder if I am somehow going to be the last. Why be nice for no reason anymore when people every day are not? Should I consider myself fortunate to act like this?
I do these things because it makes me feel awesome as a person. I know I can and I know I probably will keep doing the same. It doesn't bother me now that I've typed all of it out and see how futile it is.
In other news, I am surprised to see how many bands that I like are Christian-based. Relient K is one band that I've been listening to for about seven years that are faith-based. I knew that they were Christian since I first started listening to them but that doesn't and never did bother me. I am not a Christian and am not remotely compelled to start following similar Christ-based faiths resulting in buying their albums and going to their shows. I appreciated them for their upbeat and often tongue-in-cheek songs and lyrics.
I suppose I am not as easily gullible as some kids these days but can honestly say that I've grown a new appreciation for Christian hardcore and alternative bands these days. Knowing that your band and its faith are going to receive scrutiny and criticism but playing your music anyway is totally courageous. Playing Christian rock and playing political rock are totally similar. You're putting you beliefs out there and constantly singing against stuff. Whether it be preaching against sinning or the U.S. president 's dirty politics (which are not a far leap from each other) fans and critics alike are always asking why you believe what you do and trying to find reasons that you are wrong.
This world's filled with fucking critics.
John
Monday, February 4, 2008
There was one for every day,
Posting blogs just seems so much more fruitful than copying and pasting stuff into bulletin fields on MySpace.
Last night, I could not go to sleep. Not only was (and still am) sick with a cough and running nose, but thinking about someone breaking into my house and killing me was enough to make me double-lock the back door and check all the window's locks. I still can't believe Nancy Miller is gone.
After being awake for 30+ hours, one tends to be particularly irritable, paranoid and suffer from the plague of having 'visions' and 'revelations' about life and death. This morning, I got to class, only to venture down to the newspaper five minutes after my arrival and talk to Kristy about Nancy. We reminisced about the short-lived but absolutely rewarding times that our newspaper had with her; her charm that was contagious and well-needed after Kathe's retirement always had a place on Wednesday afternoons in the particularly chaotic atmosphere of The Scene. It was well-needed and it's the only thing today that made me smile (besides my World Wide Web I class.. details on that are further down.. keep reading.)
I have never had to deal with death. No one in my family dies. The last person to pass in my family was my uncle Mike in 1999, and I didn't know him that well. Just going to funeral services and wakes makes me absolutely anti-death. I've since then convinced myself that I don't want/need to become elderly and/or die. I have a complex and it's consumed my whole perception of my friends and family's own mortality. I started a club in my no-death delusions called the "I'm Never Gonna Die Club" and is open to new members. The only requirement: you should believe in its entirety that you're never going to die. That's it.
E-vannn Ri-chaaaards is my instructor for World Wide Web I class and her teaching style consists of her turning on the screen projector, talking fast about things that appear Greek to us, and handing out Xeroxed work sheets to guide ourselves through. I have been experimenting with online layout and HTML now since about 2000 and am somewhat proficient. I know the basics and am frightened at entertaining the fact that I might just possibly know a little more than the teacher who gets paid to show the class basic HTML codes that are rarely used anymore on the Internet. I fail to understand why we are learning basic HTML mark-up codes just to discover that will all be eliminated and replaced with CSS scripts in the next class (which is what her WWWII class is learning now.)
Amy and I had quite a go with HTML codes copied and pasted from Funky-Chickens.com. I anticipate the moment that E-vannn asks us how we did that. She told us that we were getting too far ahead of ourselves. How is that possible when I taught Amy how to insert an image and change her font color instead of staring at a piece of paper for three hours and talking to ourselves? Tiffany missed out.
Amy made her site about fire breathing, bananas and Betty White. I made mine about fat goth kids. My website's URL is this link. Check it, son!
John
Last night, I could not go to sleep. Not only was (and still am) sick with a cough and running nose, but thinking about someone breaking into my house and killing me was enough to make me double-lock the back door and check all the window's locks. I still can't believe Nancy Miller is gone.
After being awake for 30+ hours, one tends to be particularly irritable, paranoid and suffer from the plague of having 'visions' and 'revelations' about life and death. This morning, I got to class, only to venture down to the newspaper five minutes after my arrival and talk to Kristy about Nancy. We reminisced about the short-lived but absolutely rewarding times that our newspaper had with her; her charm that was contagious and well-needed after Kathe's retirement always had a place on Wednesday afternoons in the particularly chaotic atmosphere of The Scene. It was well-needed and it's the only thing today that made me smile (besides my World Wide Web I class.. details on that are further down.. keep reading.)
I have never had to deal with death. No one in my family dies. The last person to pass in my family was my uncle Mike in 1999, and I didn't know him that well. Just going to funeral services and wakes makes me absolutely anti-death. I've since then convinced myself that I don't want/need to become elderly and/or die. I have a complex and it's consumed my whole perception of my friends and family's own mortality. I started a club in my no-death delusions called the "I'm Never Gonna Die Club" and is open to new members. The only requirement: you should believe in its entirety that you're never going to die. That's it.
E-vannn Ri-chaaaards is my instructor for World Wide Web I class and her teaching style consists of her turning on the screen projector, talking fast about things that appear Greek to us, and handing out Xeroxed work sheets to guide ourselves through. I have been experimenting with online layout and HTML now since about 2000 and am somewhat proficient. I know the basics and am frightened at entertaining the fact that I might just possibly know a little more than the teacher who gets paid to show the class basic HTML codes that are rarely used anymore on the Internet. I fail to understand why we are learning basic HTML mark-up codes just to discover that will all be eliminated and replaced with CSS scripts in the next class (which is what her WWWII class is learning now.)
Amy and I had quite a go with HTML codes copied and pasted from Funky-Chickens.com. I anticipate the moment that E-vannn asks us how we did that. She told us that we were getting too far ahead of ourselves. How is that possible when I taught Amy how to insert an image and change her font color instead of staring at a piece of paper for three hours and talking to ourselves? Tiffany missed out.
Amy made her site about fire breathing, bananas and Betty White. I made mine about fat goth kids. My website's URL is this link. Check it, son!
John
Sunday, February 3, 2008
The stale taste of recycled air.
Nothing can get rid of the looming feeling of death and its cold and open arms.
My school newspaper's editor-in-cheif and friend Nancy Miller was violently taken from her life January 31, 2008 by a man who had nothing in mind but typical murder and gluttony. I can't help but feel an empty void typing this blog knowing it probably contains grammatical misappropriations and punctuation errors that can only be corrected by her delicate expertise. Her warm, 'Southern-belle' sense of humor and often contagious smile will never be replaced and it leaves me to wonder about the flawed adequacies of our civil legal systems.
What can I do to cleanse this world of its filthy injustices? A thousand memories and a handful of guilt can't bring her back to our world. This pain surrounding me proves fruitless in tonight's attempt to remember her. The marks she made on journalism, life and losses in general are unapproachable, compared to her colleagues.
Let her elegant memories play on like a symphony. Let these disgusting signs of society's collapse show all that we are in peril. We cannot change all that has passed; but all that approaches is fully avoidable.
I would love nothing more than to open a drawer filled with the sharpest knives and grab the closest one I could find; only to use it with revenge and futile ignorance (if it did not prove me any less ignorant than the clueless imbecile that inflicted this morbid plague upon us.)
John
My school newspaper's editor-in-cheif and friend Nancy Miller was violently taken from her life January 31, 2008 by a man who had nothing in mind but typical murder and gluttony. I can't help but feel an empty void typing this blog knowing it probably contains grammatical misappropriations and punctuation errors that can only be corrected by her delicate expertise. Her warm, 'Southern-belle' sense of humor and often contagious smile will never be replaced and it leaves me to wonder about the flawed adequacies of our civil legal systems.
What can I do to cleanse this world of its filthy injustices? A thousand memories and a handful of guilt can't bring her back to our world. This pain surrounding me proves fruitless in tonight's attempt to remember her. The marks she made on journalism, life and losses in general are unapproachable, compared to her colleagues.
Let her elegant memories play on like a symphony. Let these disgusting signs of society's collapse show all that we are in peril. We cannot change all that has passed; but all that approaches is fully avoidable.
I would love nothing more than to open a drawer filled with the sharpest knives and grab the closest one I could find; only to use it with revenge and futile ignorance (if it did not prove me any less ignorant than the clueless imbecile that inflicted this morbid plague upon us.)
John
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