It's About Time

Last night I typed about the thunderstorm. Today in class the professor commented about the storm, asking something to the effect of "how about that storm last night, eh?" Someone from the back of the room said, "it's about time!" Was it about time? I hadn't noticed there was an expected rate of occurrence for thunderstorms, or that we were behind schedule in that department. I'm not trying to attack the comment, I just thought it was different. You don't usually hear people enacting deadlines on nature (unless it is from children expecting snow on Christmas, or on the due date of a heavy school assignment).
I wish I knew who said it, so I could find out why. Perhaps he is an avid Weather channel watcher and they predicted a thunderstorm for the day prior. Maybe he expected the storm on Monday night, leaving him understandably let down when no rain fell. Perhaps he waited all day Tuesday expecting dark clouds to form and those first few drops of rain to fall. Every time a large truck or motorcycle drove by he ran to his window to find the source of the rumbling. He was living in anticipation of the thunderstorm right from the minute he heard it announced by the Weather channel forecaster. It is possible that he went to bed Monday night with slightly less faith in the forecaster. If this were the case, then I'd support his "it's about time!" whole-heartedly. Unrealized expectations are never encouraging.
This is all just speculation, though, for all I know he had promised a friend that he would stop eating Lucky Charms (his favorite "complete breakfast" component, which he ate everyday) until the next thunderstorm. He made the agreement hastily after the friend accused him of being addicted to the "magically delicious" meal, never thinking it would be however long it wound up being between thunderstorms. Regardless of how long it was, it was too long. He loves his Lucky Charms cereal, a product of General Mills.
I'm done with that rain story now. I had to check on the supplier of Lucky Charms (I wasn't sure if it was General Mills or Post, though I was leaning towards GM) so I went to Wikipedia; I wouldn't trust it as a source for school papers, but for cereal and blogging? I think it'll do fine. I read the article on the cereal and have become adequately distracted so as to move on from my previous story.
What I learned about the cereal is that Brach's Circus Peanut candy marshmallows played a role in its creation. Unbelievable. I never thought anything good could come from those things. I may have enjoyed them years ago, when candy was candy, but today I can't get into them. It's not an awful candy, but it just isn't the best in my opinion. There are a lot of other candies I'd select before Circus Peanuts. I was surprised by this historical discovery. Another interesting piece of information is that the marshmallow bits in Lucky Charms are referred to as marbits, at least for the purposes of the Wikipedia entry. I will assume that marbits is the technical term for the pieces (which make up 25% of the volume of a box of the cereal) used by those in the industry at the Lucky Charms factory. I think the next time I see someone eating Lucky Charms I will use the word.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucky_Charms
http://www.luckycharms.com/

My Computer is Melting

No it isn't. It feels hot though. So do I. The temperature has reached 90 degrees, farenheit, over the last day or two. Until 10 minutes ago when a huge storm erupted. It was so nice. I am no longer sweating where I sit, but my computer hasn't cooled down yet. I find it interesting how a thunder storm has a violent presentation, but it calms me. Another glaring difference between me and dogs, some dogs anyway, they don't like thunder. The thunder crashes and rumbles around the sky, sometimes so powerful you can feel the sound it creates. Lightning takes over all attention as it rips through the sky and exposes pure light and energy. I don't usually like the wind around here, but when it is raining, I mean when it is pouring, and that old man is snoring, well, I'm OK with the wind then. Mostly because I'm not outside in it; although, running wild in a big storm can't be beat. The sound of rain on the roof, the windows and the puddles creates a soothing rythm. And tomorrow it will be greener than today.
I think I will make Rice Krispie Treats now. Zen.

On The Way Out

I only have a few weeks left of school. I'm not going to miss homework. I have some to do right now. 37 pages of an article about values and Christian families. More philosophical stuff. I read three pages with zero retention so I decided to pause that effort. Class isn't for another 18 hours, I'll get it done. I just looked over my current grades for the semester. I'm not up to snuff with previous semesters. I know I'll have one solid A because that class is already over, it was a block class, meaning it lasted for half of the semester. Is that common knowledge? The definition of a block class? I don't know, so I defined it. I'm pretty sure one of my other classes will be an A as long as I keep doing the assignments. My ethics grade is currently at 93%, but the mid term hasn't been factored in yet, nor has the participation grade, which is going to kill me. 20% of the grade is based on participation, but some days I just don't have anything to contribute, and other days I raise my hand several times and don't get called on. If I can pull off a B- for the semester I'll be perfectly content. Yes, perfectly. My abnormal psychology and cognitive psychology class grades continue to drop with every exam. I'm at 87% and 85% with those classes, respectively, as of now, so a couple of B's will be fine with me. I have a 91% currently in my remaining class, but that's because the grade display on the web application used isn't set for assignment weight correctly. I'll have a solid A in that class when the points are all adjusted appropriately.
I can't think of anything worthwhile to type about today. I'm just killing time for another hour until the Mets game is on. They are playing the Tigers tonight. Last night was the first of the three game series. Mets won, 14-6. I like to watch the blowout games like that. Everyone is getting hits and scoring runs. It makes it more enjoyable. Of course, I also like to see the pitchers get wins, and John Niese was taken out of the game before he qualified for the win, but in the situation it had to be done to maintain the lead. He did let up 6 runs after all. Had they not had 11 of their own at that point, he probably wouldn't have made it that far.
I thought of something to say. I wanted some juice or something other than water to drink a few days ago, so I wondered if I could just let some herbal tea cool down and pretend it was juice. I finally got around to doing that today. There was actually a set of directions for preparing iced tea on the box. Cue reference to Brian Regan's surprise over the directions for toasting Pop-Tarts. I assumed iced tea would be prepared as follows: 1. Put tea in refrigerator 2. Drink it later when it is cooled. That is pretty much what the directions say to do. I wonder why those kind of things are necessary to have printed on product boxes. It seems intuitive enough, but perhaps it isn't. What it comes down to is this, the tea is better hot than cold. It is not a valid substitute for juice, not by any stretch of the imagination.
Did I mention there are only a few weeks of school left? One month from today, in fact, will be the last day of the semester, and I will be on my way out, back to where the sun rises from.

If You Build It, They Will Rock

This morning I awoke from a dream. In the dream I was in a class. I had shown up late because I lost the group traveling between classrooms. It wasn't a large class, only two other students. They were people I know and have had classes with. I don't know the correlation with them being in the dream. Before the class left the first room, I was in the hallway and there were pennies on the floor, just a few. I wanted to pick up the pennies, but I didn't want anyone to see me do so. I waited for them to all be walking away in the direction of the new class room, a computer lab to be exact. Once they were facing away I picked up four pennies, thinking it was well worth it. I started walking after the group: one professor and two students. As they turned a corner at the end of the hall, I was passing the water fountains. I rinsed off the pennies, as they were pretty dirty. For some reason, one of the pennies was in my mouth, which I rinsed off by putting water in my mouth from the fountain; the other three pennies were in my hand for the rinse. I spit out copper-colored water in the fountain and continued on my way after the class, but by this point they were out of sight. I turned the corner and passed a girl I used to know, I said hi, but the penny was clenched in my teeth still. I thought she must have thought I sounded weird. I got to a stairwell and there was construction going on and some workers. I went up to the third floor, which was blocked by some "caution" yellow tape. I just went into the room under construction and looked around. The class wasn't there. I turned to leave and some school administrators and a contractor were coming up. I asked if they saw the class and the contractor - who was about two feet tall though still proportionately accurate, just miniaturized - told me that they went by about 14 minutes earlier (I guess I was wandering around that room for a while) and if I hurried I wouldn't miss class. I was also told that they had entered the second floor. I went down to the second floor and found the computer lab. In the middle of the room were 3 computers. The other two students were each at a computer. The professor was angry at me. I told him I got lost. It was the professor I work for. He's never been mad at me in real life, that I know of, so I think it is funny that he was in the dream. I sat at the empty computer, but then the professor was a different one. The professor was now one that I have had for a few other classes. He is a fan of punk rock music, which is why it makes sense that the topic of discussion that I had just missed out on was hardcore rock music, and how it related to some town during a certain span of years. While the professor changed, his demeanor didn't, he was still mad at me. I missed the lesson, but I had arrived just in time for the quiz. I had a piece of paper that was some kind of letterhead. I don't know what the logo was at the top, but there was light blue writing and an image at the top of the page and then half way down in either margin was some light blue-colored symbol. Just below the header I wrote the name of a location and below that, two dates, which is why I think the topic had to do with a span of time. At the level of the symbols, half way down the page I wrote a 1. The first question of the quiz was regarding an image. I don't know how the image was shown to us, I just remember the image. It was of an old Greyhound-style bus lodged broadside in the side of a hill, a gentle slope of a hill. The question was "How would you best describe what is in this picture?" My answer was "hardcore amphitheater." That is when I woke up.
I'm lying in bed with this thought and image fresh in my mind. I looked at my phone to see what time it was, 7:40 something. Time to get up, I've been sleeping in lately, as in this semester. The next thought I had was "if you build it they will come." It wasn't until later that I thought of the line "if you build it, they will rock," which is much more appropriate for this Field of Dreams style punk-rock venue I had dreamed about. With that thought I got right up and grabbed some paper and a clipboard and a pen and got back into bed. I drew out the image I had seen, but with one side wall of the bus missing. In place of this wall was a stage that extended from the bus with a railing around the edge, so performers don't fall off and go rumbly-tumbly down the hill, of course. Safety first. Then I decided that it would be best if along with the railing there was a sloping platform that acted as a slide from the stage down to the ground, just in case anyone went over the rail they could just slide safely down. The back wall behind the stage would be the inside wall of the other side of the bus. The windows would be replaced with lights and speakers, as would the windshield and back window. With this setup, the audience would stand down hill from the bus, but as I think about it now, this is a horrible set up for an amphitheater.
Here's why it wouldn't be so great. First off, the audience has to look up to a level platform above their heads. You'd have to be down the hill and a stretch further back on the level ground to be able to see the stage. Second, the sound is going to be generated mid-way up the hill and projected outward, it would dissipate and drift upward. Originally I thought the inside of the bus would be good for acoustics, but all that would translate down to the audience would be bass that rumbles through the ground. I said first off and second, but I guess that's all I've got as far as dings go. It would be a much better plan for this bus to be positioned at the bottom of the hill, like every other amphitheater in the world. Without looking up the definition, I imagine "facing a hill" is probably part of it. That might just be an association I've made in thinking about the amphitheaters and other theaters I've seen throughout my life. So put the bus at the bottom of the hill and the sound rises up to the listeners on the slope. Much better; only now, why use a bus? That's a small theater and stage. The bus was only useful in this design when it was a part of the hillside. I'm not sure why the bus is there, but I guess I thought that if it was there this would have been the best use for it. I keep waiting for that dream that features a brilliant idea, I thought this might have been it, but it is obvious that upon further analysis this is not the case.
One last story under the "rock" heading. Last night I was at a social gathering at a friend's house. As you know, when someone has a lot of people over to their house they are usually strapped for sufficient chairs and official seating arrangements. You get a collection of chairs that don't match all jimmied into a circle in the largest room in the house, that's just how it goes. Sometimes there is the stack of newspapers bundled up for the recycling pile that is temporarily honored with the title "chair." My favorite is the stack of 15 lb. bags of dog food. Unfortunately, there were enough legitimate chairs available, and some just sat on the floor. There weren't any makeshift seating devices. I was sitting in a rocking chair. We all went around and introduced ourselves: name, major (college students), hometown, such and such and so forth. When it came around to me, I was gently rocking in the chair, as I had been ever since sitting down. I said my name, my major, the much anticipated event of my soon-to-be-realized graduation, my home state and the fact that "I like to rock." Most everyone there knows me and knows that I play the guitar. I thought it was a brilliant word play. It took a second or two, but the reactions came. It was like a wave that slowly washed over everyone there. There's nothing like a well-placed word play. This is the third time I've related the story since I made the joke, less than 24 hours ago, obviously, I have no shame in repeating a joke, or patting myself on the back for a joke well done.
That is all.

Ajax is in Bad Shape

It is 12:00 am on the button as I type this. I’ll be posting it later, so I guess it doesn’t matter when I type it, or post it for that matter. Needless to say, I will be posting it. I will digress to discuss this phrase, “needless to say.” I heard a doosie today. I love when people misuse this phrase. Before that though, just the phrase itself is pretty ridiculous, the mime of literary idioms if you will. “If you will” is another good one, maybe it can be the clown car gag of literary idioms. Basically “if you will” is just for people who want to make their writing sound snootier, which is why I use it. But “needless to say,” well, if it was really unnecessary to be said, then why are you saying it? It is either an affront to the intelligence of the audience, as in, “I shouldn’t need to say this, but I did notice your knuckles dragging while you approached me, so…” or it falls into the category of trying to enhance the appeal of your communication. I can’t just say, “The kids went crazy after the football game and three of them wound up being arrested.” I’d have to say “The kids went crazy after the football game and, needless to say, three of them wound up being arrested.” That doesn’t really seem “enhanced.” I guess I’m going to change my statement to “the only reason to use ‘needless to say’ is to imply that your audience is in the cognitive slow lane.” There is intrinsic laughability in the phrase being used at any time, but the best is when it is used improperly, such as, “well, the dog has been chewing up everything in sight, and I mean EVERYTHING. Then add in the attack on the mailman, and they say that once a dog tastes human blood, well…you know. So when the neighbor asked if I’d watch their 2-year-old, I was pretty nervous. Needless to say, everything was fine.” Needless to say?! No, I think it was very needful to say. If you are leading up to a certain conclusion you can’t just throw in a needless to say and then turn the story around, it doesn’t make sense. Anyway, I heard a good one of those kinds today and was just thinking about it a little.
End of the digression. It is midnight. Recently my roommates and I have been doing a lot of talking about getting some exercise going. As the title states, Ajax is in bad shape. This goes back to my joke about trying to save some money, you know, tightening the belt, so I quit going to the gym. Well, my pants are getting tighter, just a bit. What can you do when Ben and Jerry’s is on sale for $2.30 a pint. I’d be wrong not to buy several. And then Oreo cookies, well, you gotta have those! Needless to say (checkmate!), I need to get back to the gym. This is the way our conversations have been going lately. It got really funny yesterday when one of my roommates was talking to a mutual friend and then I had dinner with her last night and I was talking about my plan to exercise again and she said that my roommate had just been talking about that too. It was funny to me and him anyway. I don’t think that is proper grammar. I’m not worried about grammar though, I’m worried about my cholesterol and this little stomacher I’ve got developing. If this was 1770’s Philadelphia it wouldn’t be a problem. You know the rest. You see, I want to develop a Brad Pitt type appearance. He’s a good looking fellow. Right now I’m on a young-Steve-Buscemi plateau. Nothing against Buscemi, he’s a funny guy, but he’s no Brad Pitt. Ben and Jerry aren’t going to help me get to where I’d like to be, I know that, yet I continue to sit all day and eat ice cream. Until tonight. My roommates decided to start running. They’ve done their run once so far and invited me tonight. Usually I’m in bed earlier and get up earlier, but lately I’ve been letting that schedule slip back. When they said run at 11:30 pm, I said OK.
Here is the run: about 2 blocks to the gas station to buy soda and energy drinks (The energy drinks are so they can stay up all night to watch the World Cup broadcast from South Africa). Let me tell you, or, needless to say, it was pretty funny that we ran for about 4 minutes and then they bought 40 oz. sodas. I bought a Gatorade. I at least wanted to look like I was trying. We get out of the store and start jogging again, but we couldn’t stop laughing. There we were - me with a Gatorade, each of them with a 40 oz. soda and one with a bag of energy drinks. Shuffling/jogging along, at break-neck speeds…yeah. It must have been some sight for the passing motorists: three young guys in exercise apparel, jogging along with huge soda cups in hand. Kind of like the folks ordering a diet soda at KFC (I know, diet soda is blah blah blah and just because blah blah blah. Whatever, it’s an easy joke to make, so I made it. You laughed, even if only slightly, and even if only subconsciously).
I don’t know if what I’ve typed here has done justice to the experience I just had, but it had to be said. Our little expedition took all of 20 minutes and covered 4 blocks. The first thing I did after getting back to the apartment? Eat a cookie. A tragic tale? Perhaps, but you’ve gotta start somewhere. In my defense, it was a peanut butter cookie; I hear protein is a good to eat after exercising. There’s still protein in peanut butter cookies, right?

Album Review: It's a Beautiful Day

Album: It's a Beautiful Day

Artist: Jordan Tait

Label: unsigned

Release Date: June 2010

I think I made it clear that I am not a musical review type person, not a good one anyway. I'm going to try again, however, to review an album in an effort to promote the music of a fine fellow. The one over in that picture, who looks like that young upstart from Tennessee, the one with the sideburns and guitar. Elvis. Well, Tait doesn't actually look like Elvis, nor sound like Elvis, nor weigh as much as Elvis (I don't know that for sure, if we plotted each of their weights at certain ages, perhaps there would be a similarity at some point). What Tait does do like Elvis is write and play some solid songs. Did Elvis write his own music? Someone check that out for me. He must have written some of those songs, but I know he played other people's songs as well, everyone back then did. Tait writes his own songs, four songs on this self-produced album, It's a Beautiful Day. I didn't intend for this review to become a competition with Elvis, but for some reason it has, so this "writing his own songs" bit gives Tait one point, he takes the lead over Elvis for the time being (I think Elvis will gain some points back when we look at album sales, movies made, gold records, countries toured, etc.).

Enough about Elvis, let's talk Beautiful Day. The four song album is upbeat and comfortable. Tait has a familiar sounding voice (for me that's because I've known him for two years) that doesn't try to be anyone else's voice. Calling his voice ordinary sounds like an attack, but that's not how I intend it. When I say ordinary I mean that it lacks pretentiousness, which is a good thing. He doesn't try to sing beyond what he is capable of singing. Again, I'm not a reviewing guy, so I don't know how to say these things in the musical jargon, bottom line is that he's got a voice that's nice to listen to.

Musically, I like the songs. Tait's guitar playing is clean. The tracks are acoustic, guitar and piano. Again, the voice and instrumentation fit. You might be inclined to compare the sound to Jack Johnson, but I wouldn't, because I don't know much of that guy's music. I think it's a similar style though. Along with piano, there is also whistling, keyboard-marimba, egg shaker-ing, background vocal "oooh's", and some good old fashioned clicking. Like I said about the vocals, nothing pretentious, just solid songs with insert-descriptive-word here lyrics. I'll keep this review vague (and confusing) because I don't want to give everything away, then what point would there be in you listening to the songs?

The album is available on iTunes right now. You can also check it out at: http://www.myspace.com/jordantaitmusic

Final score: Tait - 83, Elvis - 926.

Forbes.com April Fools Joke Two Months Late

Well, that's what I thought when I read an article in my school's newspaper this week. Our school was ranked pretty highly on the Forbes "America's Best Colleges" list. Maybe it was an oversight on the part of the school paper article writer, or maybe it was clever propaganda, but a vital piece of information (in my opinion) was missing. A vital piece of information which I will reveal later in this post, first I will rant and rave a bit. Reading the short write-up on this list I was surprised at the criteria used to rank the colleges. I'm not a certified researcher, but I know a little bit about research, and some of the criteria which make for credible sources of information. Well, I'll just copy and paste the methods section from http://bestcollegerankings.org/popular-rankings/forbes-college-rankings/ which describes how the rankings were compiled:

Methodology: In conjunction with Dr. Richard Vedder, an economist at Ohio
University, and the Center for College Affordability and Productivity
(CCAP), Forbes inaugurated its first ranking of America’s Best Colleges in 2008.
They based 25 percent of their rankings on seven million student evaluations of
courses and instructors, as recorded on the Web site RateMyProfessors.com. Another 25 percent depended upon how many of the school’s alumni, adjusted for enrollment, are listed among the notable people in Who’s Who in America. The other half of the ranking was based equally on three factors: the average amount of student debt at graduation held by those who borrowed; the percentage of students graduating in four years; and the number of students or faculty, adjusted for enrollment, who have won nationally competitive awards like Rhodes Scholarships or Nobel Prizes. CCAP ranked only the top 15 percent or so of all undergraduate
institutions.

This was also quoted in my school paper, so I read the same thing. My initial thinking was rate my professor? Are you kidding me, Forbesy? I'm not a user of ratemyprofessors.com, but I've heard a lot about it. I will go there now and find a few examples of why I don't view this source as credible for a Forbes list. (These examples are straight from the website, I haven't corrected or manipulated any of it)

Example 1: He is a ding doing, he is not clear on the things he wants, he DOES NOT LIKE TEACHING, you can totally tell he is there just for the money. You have stupid PR's the is due every day almost and its just busy work, you get more done from
the tutor than the class, don't even bother going to class, its a wast of time.
But i had to take it.

Example 2: is the best dressed in the department for sure. Has a style that is comparable to that of individuals like elton john/pablo escobar. Class is easy if you are paying attention. super helpful when you ask, but you have to ask, he wont just give you handouts.

Example 3: This class was very easy. You don't need to go to class, but it's a good idea because she does give out extra quizzes and worksheets. Tests are easy; everything comes straight from the text book. She wasn't helpful, however.
I don't really recommend taking this course from her.

Example 4: Go to class, listen, skim through the online material and its an
easy A. He is hilarious and keeps class interesting. Don't know if I learned a
lot, but it made me think more and improve opinions on certain subjects.

That took longer than expected. I decided that since I was there I might as well see what the students are saying about some professors. It served to make me view the website as even less credible than I expected based on hearsay. I do like the way that all of the comments read like you are listening to broken English spoken by a stereotyped foreigner on a campy sit-com. So, 25% of the Forbes ranking was based on this website? Doesn't that seem like a bogus source for such a ranking?
It isn't the only ridiculous sounding criteria to make the list of America's best colleges. The two other factors that made me question the validity of the list were "accumulated debt" and "percentage of students who graduate within four years." How do these factors make a "best" college? Just because something is cheap and quick doesn't make it the best. I'll let you supply your own analogy for this statement. I'll just say that the Hot and Ready deal from Little Caesar's is cheap and quick, but wouldn't even rate on my "best pizza in America list," ever (there really is no list, I have one pizza place on that list, Vinny's, formerly Kendall Park Pizza and Subs, formerly Dominick's. 7 Allston Road, Kendall Park, NJ 08824. It is number one partly for nostalgia and partly because it is the source of some of the finest pizza I've ever had). I understand that it is nice to have an affordable school, and I love the fact that my attendance here for the two and a half years it is taking me to obtain my B.S. will cost about the same as one year at most other schools, but do these factors really warrant the title of "best college?"
The article in the school paper really made me question Forbes' integrity. Until I went to the Forbes website: http://www.forbes.com/2009/08/02/best-colleges-ratings-opinions-ranking-2009_land.html Right there in the heading it says "from the student's point of view." OK! That I can get behind. If only the school paper would have said that in the first place. I wouldn't have gotten all indignant. Had I read that this list with its ridiculous criteria was "from the student's point of view" I would have just turned the page and forgotten about it. I am a bit hostile and confrontational. I am very stubborn in my opinions. Maybe I'm the only one who thought this whole list thing was unbelievable. It is possible that I am the only one who read about this in the school paper and thought there was something amiss. It isn't far fetched to believe that most people are "true to their school," as the Beach Boys sang about being. I'm true to some of the professors I've had, to the friends I've made and to my interests and efforts in learning. I am not a fan of institutional education or so-called "big government" so I find it difficult to fully submit to campus culture. And after my two and a half years here I found it hard to believe that our little university would rank in the top 20% out of 600 national schools.
I guess if I am going to degrade the rating system I ought to suggest a rating system that I would find more favorable in determining the best colleges in America. But this is my blog, if you don't like my methods you don't have to read. It is a lovely arrangement. I would suggest grades as an indicator of a good school, but I'm familiar with the term "grade inflation" and I know that only a year or so ago the professors at this school were notified that the average grade given out was an 'A', and asked to address that issue. When 'A' is average, what is 'B'? How about 'C'? So while grades might indicate a good school, it isn't a trustworthy criterion. Maybe the degrees held by the professors could be used as a rank factor? But I would question that one as well. If there is any factor I would readily accept it would be how "hireable" a graduate of the school is. Even then, there are so many other variables at play. I don't think there is an objective way to measure schools. Maybe if there was a standardized test like the SAT, but better constructed, that was given to all graduating students? The scores of this test could be used to determine the level of learning of the students. But then again, how many standardized tests are perfect?
Maybe the real issue isn't about how to rate the schools, but about why we feel the need to rate the schools. Elitism is nasty, but isn't it the reason why we rate? Move over hypertension, we've got a new silent killer in town, elitist pride. I suppose this is enough for one post.

Here is a link to the total list from Forbes (who I have pardoned from all accusations of making a shoddy list; as long as they say "from the student's point of view" I have no beef with their methods. I'm sure that will help them sleep easier tonight).
http://www.forbes.com/lists/2009/94/colleges-09_Americas-Best-Colleges_Rank.html

A Day at the Races

I typed this up at midnight last night, or this morning, whichever you prefer. Sometimes I'll have a thought while lying in bed waiting for sleep to overtake me. That sounds so dramatic, that's why I typed it that way instead of just saying "waiting to fall asleep." Good, huh? So I get these ideas and sometimes I just entertain them in my head, figuratively writing out a masterful essay or comedy routine. Those become lost to the ages. Other times I'll type a note in my phone or scribble a note down using my phone as a light. This time I actually turned my computer on and waited forever for the three-year-old slowpoke to boot up. Then I typed the following:

Some people say that the first step in a race is the hardest one to take. This is because that first step represents weeks, months or even years of commitment and preparation. It is the culmination of early morning runs, muscle strain, dehydration, sunburn, windburn, trips and falls, blisters and miles and miles of being out of breath. The right diet, the right coaches, the right practice routines and nothing else. Everything in preparation for that one step; certainly there is a lot that goes into it. Moments before the race begins you are lined up with others who have similarly sacrificed and prepared. You focus and wait for the preparatory remarks. At the sound of the starter’s pistol your muscles contract and spring into action, your first foot crosses the line and the race has begun. The hardest step has been taken. This is what some people say, but not me. This is the easiest step to take...

The rest of this post can be found in the Ajax's Whimsical Revolution ebook for Amazon's Kindle. The book is a compilation of my favorite posts, 78 to be exact, of which this is one. If you don't have a Kindle e-reader you can download the free Amazon Kindle app for PC or Mac.

Have You Ever Noticed...

It seems so important to organize and clean out your e-mail inbox when you need to write a paper. I had over 600 e-mails in the inbox, now there are zero. The paper is still yet to be written.

A Pertinent Question of Life

I had three classes today. Each one frustrated me in its own special way. I won't get into the details, but suffice it to say I was tired of it all when I was done with the last one. Happily, on my way out of class I ran into a friend. We spent almost an hour talking. I explained to him my frustration and we discussed that, along with everything else in life. It was one of those deeply intellectual conversations, and as much as I don't care for philosophy, it had plenty of that as well. I like to philosophize in so far as I like to think about things, critically. Philosophy fails in that it is useless. A definition my friend gave that he heard from someone was that as soon as philosophy is applied it ceases to exist. My question to that is what good is it then? What good is talking and thinking if it leads you to doing, but then you never do? It is no good at all. Thinking about saving a person from a river, running to the bank with rope in hand and then just standing there doesn't help the person (maybe it gives the drowning person a false glimmer of hope before they sink beneath the water and their lungs fill with water, so I guess it isn't fair to say you aren't doing anything, just not anything beneficial). You help yourself though. You are all ready to attempt a rescue of the person, but instead you do nothing and keep your shoes dry. Philosophy not applied is keeping your shoes dry and letting a person drown.
Well, we had a long discussion and debate over lots of topics. We worked through some ideas and each said our part. To me it was more beneficial than the class I had just taken because my friend and I discussed and found resolution. I walked away with a different way of thinking. Whether or not I remember this change and I use it to change my behavior is another story. Our conversation was useless if I don't change. Just a lot of gum-flapping and lung compressions. Just a lot of philosophy. But, if he and I walk away and give those ideas some more thought, and change how we interact with other people and how we think for ourselves, then something good comes of it. If we apply what we discussed. I guess I am too harsh on my classes that I label as being useless and just a lot of hot air. Some of the other students probably are invested in the classes more than I am, I hope they are. For them the classes are as beneficial as my conversation in the hall was to me. I'm too quick to judge the situation from my point of view. I need to be aware of other sides. Not necessarily to give up what I perceive, but to be aware and hopefully really understand a situation.
I don't want to get into the details of my frustrations (I've already vented enough) or the content of the conversation, but I did walk away with one question that I want to mention. My friend posed the question of whether we respect the law or the law giver more. In the context it was of a religious nature; do we follow God or do we follow His laws? I think this question can give anyone enough to ponder about, whether you are religious or not. In any instance, do you respect the creator or their creation? This is the question I walked away pondering today. I don't think it is a new question, I've probably asked myself this question countless times in different ways. Today it has some direct meaning to me and I think it gives me a lot to think about. I can use this question to improve myself. It has direct influence on my motivation and intent behind everything I think and do, it could anyway. I hope that I will let it. I hope that I will make something meaningful come from the conversation I had. If I don't then I'm just raging against the machine, a machine that I am part of and regularly perform maintenance on.

Ajax's Fables: The Muffin That Would To Be A Man

A baker in Santa Clara, CA was just closing up for the night. He had let his staff leave early, always a kind employer, on this Friday evening. The bakery stayed open until 6 pm on Friday nights, trying to fold in as much business as possible from the homeward-bound townsfolk. Everything was clean, no flour anywhere. The baker set up the cleaned machinery for the next morning, then gave one final look around and locked the front door on his way out. It was a busy day, nearly everything baked that day was sold, which was typical. What wasn't typical was that one muffin remained in the show case. Just a simple sweet-dough muffin, nothing special, but a popular member of the cupped quick breads nonetheless. A simple muffin with dreams of something more. As it watched the people pass by on the street outside, the muffin sighed.
"What is the batter?" asked the mixing bowl, never one to pass by a pun, or a bun, it was a big bowl.
"I've wasted my life sitting in this display case." Replied the muffin.
"Your life!? Ha! You were baked less than 10 hours ago, I was there when you were mixed!"
"10 hours?! Oh, I'm getting so old, I'll be stale before long." Said the muffin, mournfully.
"Don't worry, you'll be freed in the morning, well, not freed, but $1.99'd."
"You don't understand. You are stainless steel, whatever that means, but you don't go stale. I don't know what I'm talking about, because I'm a muffin, but when I was first put in here this morning there were three muffins and a danish that told me what was what, and they said they heard that you don't have to worry like we do."
The wise mixing bowl remained motionless, for it was just a bowl; a talking bowl, yes, but it couldn't move on its own. It didn't have feet. It then responded, "Those pastries weren't full of fluff, it is true that I am different than you. I have been around longer than any scone, danish, donut or muffin. My wisdom surpasses that of the spoon or the oven mitt. I..."
"Then tell me one thing, please?" Interrupts the muffin.
"What?"
"How do I become the baker? Is it possible for me?"
"Oh little muffin. Of course it isn't, you can never be the baker." Chortled the bowl.
"Why not?"
"You are a muffin, and muffins can't be men." The bowl said with such disdain that the conversation stopped dead (Mostly because I have no idea where else to take this dialogue; a muffin and a bowl, come on! What was I thinking?).
Early the next morning the baker arrived and began baking various pastries and such. On one pass by the display case he noticed the solitary muffin.
"Don't you worry, little muffin, you'll be sold today. Man up." Offered the baker encouragingly. He's never been the same since he took that football to the head while feeding ducks in the park last spring.
The muffin lifted its chin, figuratively speaking, at those last words "Man up." Man up? it thought, so then it is possible! I should've known better than to trust a bowl.
Well, the muffin sat there cheerily wondering and waiting for something to help it in accomplishing its "manning up."
A knock on the door, 5 minutes before 7 am - opening time. The baker was prepared to get going for a busy Saturday, so he opened the door. In walked a stately gentleman. A tall blond Adonis, of sorts. Boasting of Finnish ancestry with every well articulated word, "You open then? I want a muffin or something. Just got off the night shift and I need something to get this taste out of my mouth."
"We are open, and I've got plenty of fresh muffins and scones for you, right this way," as he leads the man to the main display cabinet, "Where do you work?"
"Morgue."
"Ah...eh...intersting work I suppose?" Nervously the baker maintains the conversation.
"It's a pay check. Got anything with blueberries?"
"Yes," happy that the man didn't dwell on the conversation, "These muffins are fresh out of the oven and full of ripe blueberries, never frozen."
"Perfect, that must be what I smelled from the street. I'll take half a doz - well 'ello muffin!" The man sees the day-old sweet-dough muffin alone in its tray, "What's this muffin all alone?"
"Oh, that is a sweet-dough muffin, a popular type around here, but this little one is left over from yesterday, it's still good, but you are here so early, have these fresh ones."
But the man wasn't persuaded. He saw something in that muffin. Something he'd like to have inside of his stomach. Probably sugar, but maybe butter.
"I'll take that muffin, as well as half a dozen of those fresh blueberry deals."
The transaction was completed and the baker wished the man a fine morning. Once outside the man opened his parcel and removed the lone sweet-dough muffin. With two bites it was gone.
"Not bad." Said the man as he walked on down the street.
That night, after the baker closed up shop again, the mixing bowl told the tale of the muffin that wanted to be a man, and how it achieved its desire that very morning. The new muffins, unaware of the bowl's delusions believed every word, though they didn't know what they meant. But you know what they mean, they mean that if you want to live longer than one day, don't be a muffin.
The End.

Album Review: The '59 Sound

Artist: The Gaslight Anthem

Album: The '59 Sound

Label: Side One Dummy Records

Release Date: August 2008

Muffin Man clued me in to this band about a week ago. He sent me a link for their video for the song "Great Expectations" off the above named album, their second. The band is about to release their third effort in just a few days, June 15 to be exact. The new album is called American Slang and is available for pre-release streaming from Rolling Stone @ http://www1.rollingstone.com/hearitnow/player.php?xmlData=example_files/xml/music_player_data.xml

I'm listening to it now and it is sounding great. The '59 Sound is what I've been listening to non-stop for the last three or four days though, so I'll say a little more about that one.

The Gaslight Anthem is from New Brunswick, NJ. I grew up in South Brunswick, so I feel some township of origin relationship with them. My interest in the band is more than just native pride. The music is rock and roll at its finest. I like music that makes me feel something. Listening to the songs on this album makes me nostalgic for a time I never experienced. It is blue jeans and white t-shirts, muscle cars and nights at the Jersey shore. Blue-collar work ethic and day-to-day living. I haven't paid enough attention to the lyrics of all of the songs yet to know what is really being said, but these are the things I feel from it. There is an obvious feeling of the glory days and days gone by. I think the struggles of life are discussed, but without making you depressed. There is something hopeful in the overall sound of the album. It is romantic. Not Valentine's Day romantic, but American Dream romantic.

Well, it is obvious that I am not a music review writing guy. I play the guitar though, and I've played in a band, and I grew up in NJ. I can't clearly tell you why this album is necessary for you to listen to, but it is. I recommend that you don't eat anything for the rest of the day and instead use that money to buy this album. It is on iTunes for $9.99. You can thank me later. After you thank me I will pass your appreciation on to Muffin Man, the best music recommender out there.

I Embark on a Life of Weapons Manufacturing

Tell me if this isn't brilliant. Wait! I just remembered something else I was thinking about typing yesterday, so I will tell that story and then follow it up with what is brilliant, or what you will be the judge about whether it is brilliant or not.
Interjected story! Yesterday I was eating a sandwich with pickles and tomato and so forth. You know what? I don't think this story is going to work, I only remember bits of it, not the punch-line though. I was trying to remember when I was typing up that last post, and then once I started this one I remembered part of it so I thought I had it. Now as I try to type it out I realize that the serial-position curve is rearing its ugly head. Thanks to the primacy effect I remember the beginning to the story. The recency (relatively speaking) effect helps me remember the end of the story, but I don't know what's going on in the middle, which is what makes it meaningful. It was something about how useful I find paper towels to be. We don't have any right now and I spilled some stuff on the chair in the kitchen. I reached for the next best thing, a pot-holder, and soaked up the spilled liquid. I think the purpose of the story was that while paper towels are helpful around the house, they can be substituted. Pot-holders might not be the typical substitute, but it worked for me. After I did that I thought that perhaps toilet paper would have been a better substitute. Then I thought of how paper towels are easily replaced, but toilet paper not as easily replaced. I usually stay away from these topics in public conversation, it doesn't seem proper. However, in this case the possibility of humor wins out. I think that was the story, it was probably just more lavish when I thought it up yesterday. This commentary is falling apart faster than the store-brand paper towels in the Bounty commercials after they put a bowling ball on them and drag them across a Kool-Aid soaked carpet.
Hey! Remember when I mentioned a brilliant idea? Here it is. Rifle grenades are grenades fired from a rifle. That's not the brilliant part, though it is brilliant in its own right. You see, you take a grenade and affix it to the end of a rifle, then it launches the grenade, I don't know the mechanics, I suppose there is some special blank-type round that is used, otherwise the bullet would shoot through the grenade and you'd have a big mess on your hands, though you might not have any hands. However it works, I know you attach a grenade on the barrel of a rifle and it launches the grenade further than you could throw it. Here's my idea, take a simple firecracker and jam it in the barrel of a BB gun. Pump that sucker up and light the fuse then BAM! You launch the firecracker high in the air and it pops. Its a low (very low) explosive grenade. If it works you could get a firecracker a lot further away than if you didn't have the rifle. I don't know if air would be able to launch the firecracker sufficiently. You'd have to have a lot of air pressure and a tight seal around the firecracker. Perhaps a better process would be to fire a BB. The BB would propel the firecracker. Perhaps the BB would even lodge itself in the firecracker and both would be launched. Upon explosion the BB would be shot off again, sort of like a fragmentation grenade. I haven't tried this at home yet, so I don't know. The dangers I foresee are that the BB splits the firecracker at the end of the barrel and causes it to pop before it leaves the barrel. Or, the firecracker stops the BB and just pops in the barrel. I don't think that it would damage the rifle, but it is possible that it would. The third danger I see is that the BB lodges in the firecracker as hoped for, but when it fragments in the air, the BB comes shooting back at you at a moderate speed and might leave a small red mark on your forehead.

Another Battle with the Printer...or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Scholarship

A few mornings ago I found out I was eligible for a scholarship from the university. I received an e-mail that said something about a financial aid update. I clicked the link and under the scholarship/grant section it said I was awarded a $500 scholarship. Why? Who knows? I never applied for anything, but I'm not going to let that stop me from taking it. This is my last semester, there is probably some system they have set up for graduating students that meet certain requirements. Or it is a big mistake. I'm not concerned either way. There was an "accept offer" link next to the award statement. As if there is any question about whether or not I will accept their $500 of free money. It wasn't as easy as just clicking the link though; the link brought me to instructions about writing a letter of thanks. This instruction list gives about a dozen points of instruction on writing a letter of thanks. Several lines of what to include, and a few more of what not to include. A small manual of how to write the letter of thanks, but nothing specific about the second part of the process, which was to include a picture of myself. I typed the letter and printed that in a few minutes. I supposed the letter and picture would be sent to an elderly couple in the community who donate to whatever fund this scholarship was coming from. Even though I'm making light of this situation, I really do appreciate those who are contributing to efforts such as these to take some of the financial sting away from the students. It is a very nice thing they are doing. That being said, I needed a photo to include with the letter. I didn't want to just give them a photo of me wearing a tie and standing against a blank wall with a half-smile. Half-smiles are all I ever give anyone, but that's not the point, nor is it the truth. Forget about it.
On with the story. I don't have any pictures of myself. I live in the digital world. I do have a photo printer though, so I guess it's all the same. Having a photo printer today is like my parents having photographs when they were kids, just as they had a huge cathode-ray tube television and I have a cell phone that can stream video. Its all the same. I went to my "photo album" (facebook) to select a good picture of myself, something with a little more personality than what I expect they always get. Remember, there weren't any photo instructions on the web page, so I'm left to my own devices. I searched the pictures: me with a rifle? no. me playing guitar on stage? no. me with green hair? nah. I'm proud to say that I don't have any pictures of me making a kissy face in the mirror while taking the picture myself. I might be the only person on facebook under the age of 30 who doesn't have such a photo. I settled on a picture of me with a pumpkin I carved a few years ago. I did that partial carving trick where you don't cut all the way through, you know what I'm saying? I carved out some leaves. I thought it was pretty stellar.
So I put the photo paper in the printer and press print. Of course it doesn't work. If you know me and have seen my story on facebook about a previous experience with my printer and printing photos, you'll know this means something. One of these days I'll have to format that group of pictures into a slide show and post it on here. For now you will have to take my word that my printer doesn't always work when I want it to and it frustrates me more than is decent. The photo paper jammed on the first attempt, at least that's what the computer told me. The paper didn't even move in the tray. After "clearing" the jam, the printer was unresponsive. I pushed a bunch of buttons and resent the print job and finally had to unplug the printer and let it reset itself. I will admit, at some point in this process I thought "this isn't worth the $500." I almost believed it, but after thinking that, everything fell into perspective. Happily, after unplugging the printer it was able to complete the job and I had my picture of me with the pumpkin.
The letter and picture were to be dropped off at the financial aid office, so I planned to do that before class. I ran into Ben and we talked for too long and I had to wait until after class. I went after class and decided to ask about the photo before I busted that out. In my mind it was a good idea to give them a non-traditional photo, or what I thought would fall under that classification. I pictured the moment when I hand over the letter and a picture of me with a pumpkin and the receptionist just looking at me like I was that melting Gestapo guy in Raiders of the Lost Ark. It probably wouldn't have been that bad, but it would have seemed that way to me. When I handed over the letter I asked if there were any specifications on the photo, and mentioned that the website hadn't offered any. She said "yes, there are, I'll just take a picture of you." This was after I introduced myself and said that I had an e-mail telling me about a scholarship I was eligible for, but that I never requested. I asked if it was "legit" and she said "yeah." I was directed to a blank portion of the wall and instructed to stand there. She took the picture of me while I half-smiled with my silver tie.

Squirrel vs. Crow and Vincent Van Gogh

Today I saw a friend on campus and stopped to talk. While we were standing there chatting I saw a crow land on a car and a squirrel run under it. Then the squirrel ran away and the crow flew after it. A week or so ago I saw from my window the same interaction. A crow dove at a squirrel who ran away and then the crow flew in front of the squirrel and cut him off. I'll give them names to aid in my story. The crow is William and the squirrel is Reggie. So William cuts off Reggie's retreat. Now the two are face to face in the grass. They charged each other, honestly. William flying and Reggie running, right at each other, and then collision! Unfortunately they scampered off behind a tree and out of my field of vision. That was then. Back to today, another squirrel and crow fighting and chasing, just across the street from where I saw William and Reggie. I have no alternative other than to believe that the actors today were the same William and Reggie. I was talking to my friend and saw the interaction at the car so I stopped talking and started walking so I could get a better view. All I was able to watch was William flying above Reggie as he ran across the street and they bounced around a bit then Reggie ran up a tree and I lost sight again. It was an amazing sight.
I once had a similar experience with a crow. The location was Ft. Hood, TX. Between my barracks and the shopette was the Battalion HQ. A sidewalk brought me from the parking lot, past the HQ, and to the street. I cross the street and there is the shopette. The HQ was a long building, not very deep, but wide. That building stands on the right, when walking to the shopette, of the sidewalk. There was a huge tree on the left. On top of the building was a large antenna for radio comms. It was from the perch of the antenna that the crow would attack. And attack he did. I was swooped several times in one week while walking over to the shopette. I'd just be walking and then I could hear the woosh of the huge bird's wings and then his feathers graze my head. I duck and cover my head with my arms like I was in legitimate danger, and look like an idiot. I know that's how I looked because one day I saw this bird attack someone else, and he looked like an idiot. Anyway, several times this happened. I assumed the bird lived in the tree and was mad about all the soldiers walking by. So it took to the skies and maintained air superiority over us. I told my friends and we laughed about it. One day Simms comes in and says he killed the bird. I never believed him, but I never saw the bird again, either. I always thought he thought I was imagining the bird and he told me he killed it just so I wouldn't have to worry anymore. I'll never know. This is one time I should probably read this over again and see if it makes sense, but I refuse to do that.
What about van Gogh in the title? I opened my text book to do an assignment and there is van Gogh's self portrait painting. The chapter is on mood disorders and suicide.
P.S. Barney Frank is a weird dude. I don't trust him as far as that crazy crow could throw him.

Mulderization

Have I mentioned yet that my new goal is to watch every episode of the X-Files by the end of the semester, July 23? Well, that is my goal. I think it is a valiant goal for a final college semester. As I progress in the accomplishment of this goal, as you might imagine, I am picking up the lingo of the X-Files and the mindset of a skeptical FBI agent mixed with one who just wants to believe. With this deluge of Mulder and Scully in my life, I find myself wanting to believe also. Only not in UFO's and extra terrestrials. In other things. Things I won't be descriptive about, because it is fun to create suspense. I will tell you that one of these things led to the coining of this term while I discussed a matter with Muffin Man, the term is Mulderization. The definition is as follows: Mulderization - (subjunctive) skewing the facts in your life (not the facts of your life, that's a TV show) to meet your hopes because you want to believe in something so badly. [other forms: Mulderize, Mulderized, to Mulder]
I admire Fox Mulder as a calm operator, but one who can get riled up when necessary. He always has a witty observation or retort. I wanted to type response, but that seemed too bland, so I used retort. I'm falling into the trap of writing beyond my speaking. Whatever that means. Mulder has some great lines, and though he is only make-believe, he is my current hero. Not really. I just felt like I needed to type some more words to make this post worthwhile. In "the biz" we call that filler. Whoever "we" is. I suppose that is enough.

It Finally Happened

First off, I love to hear "we're the kids in America, whoa-oh" on a Totino's frozen pizza commercial with a kid that loves swimming and will only get out of the pool for 1. Pruned Toes 2. Totino's! Personally, I would choose to get out of the pool for water in my ears before Totino's, but that's just me. Perhaps you'd prefer air over these options, to each their own.
So what finally happened? I got a couch sitting injury. I don't know what I did exactly, but at some point after sitting on the sofa for a while my back and neck muscles hurt. The standard stiff neck feeling. The pain reaches from my hairline on my neck down to my left shoulder blade area. I cut my hair this morning, bringing my hair line up ever so slightly, which is too bad because that is ever so slightly more area for pain to occur in. Don't think about this last statement literally, it is an abstract thought.
I'm also baking hot dogs. Why not, right?
Decatur, AL. Pronounced deh-KATE-er. I prefer deck-ah-TOUR.
I fulfilled my recent craving for grocery store sushi today. I've only been thinking about it for 2 weeks now. It was about time. I liked it. Wasabi and pickled ginger are good things. I've moved on from BBQ fascination to Asian food fascination. I want to learn how to make lo mein and stuff, but you know what? That stuff seems to take a lot more ingredients and time than BBQ. Throwing pork on a grill or in an oven and then slathering it with sauce is just easy. Luckily there are stores and restaurants to quench my Asian food thirst. Here in this university town there aren't any BBQ spots. Sadly. There aren't any donut shops either. I long for Dunkin' Donuts, or some Entenmann's (http://entenmanns.bimbobakeriesusa.com/op-prod.cfm/prodId/7203000460) in the grocery store. I can't wait to get back to the East.
I think my hot dogs are finished baking. I have nothing further.