High Back, Leather Chair

I’m currently sitting in English class, in a high back, leather chair!  I’ve always been against the high back leather chair.  I’m a bit of a chair socialist, I am for chair equality.  The high back, leather chair seems to represent the man and chair oppresion!  Rather, I was against a chair class system until I sat in this high back leather chair.  It isn’t the most comfortable chair I have ever sat in, but comfort is not why I like it.  I get this sense of prestige and power in this chair.  This is the seat of testosterone!

Sitting in this high back, leather chair with today’s edition of USA Today makes me very much like a real adult or a CEO of a company!  All I need to complete the look is a big fat cigar and a smoking jacket…and a fedora…  That would make the moment perfect!

Sitting in this high back, leather chair–I finally realized that it’s time to change the name of my blog.  It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for some time.  When I first started this blog I kind of rushed into it.  I just posted the first thing that came to mind so I could get started.  It seemed like no one was impressed with the name.  If I’m honest, neither was I.  Changing it has always been in the back of my mind, but I finally decided to do it.  When I was at the beach last fall I said something that wasn’t entirely a joke, but it came across as such.

“I’m nearly thirty,” I announced to my family.  They just laughed.  It has been a running joke ever since then.  Since this blog is essentially about my life, I thought that ‘Nearly Thirty‘ would sum it up quite nicely.

Sitting in this high back, leather chair I realized I have to talk about first National Pancake Day extravaganza!  I didn’t even know about it until my dad text me yesterday morning.  I got all excited!  I sent out a group text!  I made plans to go to an IHop, which scared me a little because I have heard bad things about that chain.  Despite the sketchy stories from IHop–waitresses with peg legs and eye patches and such–it was pancake day!  I was willing to risk the peril to celebrate those circular pieces of delicious golden-brown batter cooked to perfection.  Jamie and I always get dinner on Tuesdays.  So, I decided to include Jamie on my escapade.  After all, pancake day is the season of giving.  Unfortunately, the Peg leg waitresses weren’t the problem.  When we got to IHop the lobby was completely full.

“Maybe pancake day is real thing,” Jamie said, somewhat surprised.

“Of course, it’s real!  I put it in my iCal, that solidifies the validity of it!” I informed her.  We decided to hit up Cracker Barrel because they serve breakfast around the clock.  After ordering our food, Jamie decided to research pancake day because the only evidence I had of its existence was a text from my dad, “Happy Pancake Day!”  I thought that text was a pretty solid source, but since he didn’t include his work cited page Jamie wasn’t satisfied. As it turns out National Pancake Day is an actual holiday of sorts.  IHop started it as a way to raise money for the Children’s Miracle Network.  They give away free pancakes, and, instead of you paying for the pancakes, you have the option of donating money to charity.  Apparently, they’ve raised $8 million for the cause.  Unfortunately for us, we didn’t know they were free.  So, that was a bit of bummer to miss out on, but everything happens for a reason.  I now have some Syrup bottles to keep…because I love syrup.

Questions for today:

1. Did you celebrate National Pancake Day?  If so, how?

2. Have you ever sat in a high back, leather chair?

Please comment your answers below!

Squeaking Art

I wonder if–during the entire expanse of World War II–Hitler ever thought, “Hmm, maybe this was a bad idea.”

The other day I was watching The Office.  It was the episode where Michael kidnaps the pizza delivery boy.  Toward the end, he realizes what he did and let him go.  That’s when I thought of the Hitler bit.  I wonder if it just hit him all of a sudden.  Oh snap!

I guess he got what he deserved.

I’ve been preparing my art portfolio for Sophomore review, which has me stressed.  (Sophomore review is why this post is short, sorry)  I have to present next week.  It’s a thirty minute presentation.  It essentially determines whether I am rubbish or not rubbish at art, and whether or not I get to continue on to 300 level photography classes.  I met with the advisor for Sophomore Review today.  ”Well…you’re drawings are bad,” he told me.  He’s actually a really nice guy, but he has to be honest for this.

“I know,” I replied. “But I’m a photography major.” As if that would make some sort of magical difference or something.

“Well, you’re going to get abuse for these drawings.  If you have all your 2d stuff, and if your photos are good quality.  You’ll squeak by.”  He told.

Squeaking isn’t what I had in mind.  I know my stuff isn’t the best, but squeaking by is what I had hoped to avoid.  I was going to aim for a fifteen to seventeen out of the possible twenty points.  I wouldn’t be disappointed if I scored lower, as long as I scored at least a 9.5, the lowest possible score.  I feel like squeaking by is aiming right for the 9.5.  The problem with that is if something goes wrong there is no where else to go.  I would appreciate loads and loads of prayer.  Although, I know, pass or fail, everything is going to be fine.

That’s what’s going on with me right now.  I got a new to do list app.  It’s called Epic Win, I have it scheduled to remind me to post here every other day.  I hope that will do the trick.  You should check the app out! It’s loads of fun!

Turning into an Old Hippy

My dog…is a hippy.  To explain what she is now, I really need to explain what she used to be.  Sadie started hunting the squirrels in our yard about a month or two after we got her.  She would get down low to the ground, point, she would move an inch a minute and then–suddenly–she would burst after them at full speed.  The squirrels got away almost every time.  She caught a few.  Occasionally, she would jump up to try to get a squirrel off  the branch it was sitting on. The squirrels would tease her, seriously.  Let’s just say Sadie could jump six feet high, the squirrels would sit seven feet up in the tree.  We used to watch this unfold.  She would  circle the tree, sometimes for hours, and squirrels would just sit there out of reach.  She did catch a few. She kept those Shiite squirrels on their toes.

Recently, I let her out when there were some squirrels in the yard. She didn’t run after them.  She didn’t point.  She didn’t even seem to notice them.  She just walked out in the grass and plopped down, panting.  She had a kind of goofy, happy smile on her face.  It was then I realized she was just an old hippy.  To be more specific, she reminded me of Jeff Bridges’ character in The Men Who Stare at Goats.  She turned ten years old last January.  Maybe, it’s an old age thing.  Maybe, we become more peaceful in our old age.  Maybe, we quit caring when we get old.  Maybe, we care to much when we’re young.  Perhaps, we care too much about things that don’t deserve it when we’re young.  I’ll let you decide.

Sticking to old age.  My mom was telling me a story from her old job.  She worked with people who had mental problems.  She observed that some of the really demented ones would live incredibly long lives.  Our conclusion: that because these people are so out of touch with reality that they must not have the same kind of stress that causes to age us.  So, if dememted people live a long time that explains why politicians live to be so old.  Zing!  Politician joke!

I was listening to a show from Freakanomics Radio about the media biased, which I firmly believe existed on both conservative and liberal sides.  The host of Freakanomics, and many other liberals I’ve heard, discredit this.  They say it’s just insane ramblings of a madman, ie Glenn Beck.  Tim Groseclose, who I believe worked for The Economist, was charged with finding out if a media bias was real.  His findings said, yes.  Basically, he made a computer program.  He would enter the transcripts of speeches from key figures from each political party: Obama, Palin, Clinton, Bachman, Romney, etc.  The program would pick out the most used words from the speech, and then assign a PQ (political quotient).  Then he would enter News articles into the program to establish their PQ.  If they had the same common words as the Republican politician, then the PQ leaning to the right.  If it had the same common words as the liberals, then the PQ was left leaning.  From his research, the majority of media is left leaning.  To be honest, I thought there was an even slant.  It kind of surprised me.

Tim Groseclose also came up with a quiz to help you decide your political standing.  It’s a forty question quiz that asks whether you support certain bills or are against them.  I had guessed I would score around a 38, and I scored a 38.4.  It feels pretty cool being right!  It’s on a scale of zero to one hundred.  Zero being the most hardcore conservative.  One hundred being the most hardcore liberal.  Fifty being a moderate, perfectly in the middle.  If you’re curious about your PQ, you can take the quiz here.

I’ll leave you with two questions:

1. Do you think a media biased is a major problem?

2. Do you have a funny dog story?

Feel free to comment your answers below!

 

A Boy and His [Racist] Dog

It’s the last day of Mardi Gras break.  I am working on a self portrait for Sophomore Review.  I am a little bit stressed about that.  It’s a review by the art department to determine whether or not you are good enough to continue on to 300 level classes.  No one has failed in the last four years.  I really don’t want to be the record breaker.  I’m drawing a self portrait.  I kind of copied that scene from the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark.  The one from the first fifteen minutes where Indiana stole the idol and the rock almost killed him.  I shot a picture of myself replacing Oreos with a leather pouch.  I thought it would be clever while also capturing a likeness of my face.

I started another blog.  I mentioned in my last post that I’ve been writing a lot of short stories and flash fiction.  Well, I started a blog on Blogger to post a few of my stories.  I’m not quite confident enough to broadcast where that site is yet, maybe later.  If you find the blog, I hope you enjoy it.  So, far I’ve written a story about Barry the explorer, Porky Robinson, Ph.D. (urban pirate), one based on a dream I had in high school and a few based on actual recent events.  I’m finding it very enjoyable, therapeutic even.  Unfortunately, my grammar is still a problem, as you probably noticed.

I just got back from the gas station.  I had to get gas for both my truck and the lawn mower.  I decided to bring Sadie, my dog, with me.  She stays at home most of the time, and doesn’t go out very much.  I like to treat her to a trip every now and then.  She really seems to enjoy sticking her head out the window and experiencing all the smells.  There is a slight problem, though.  Sadie loves people, but she is also one of those racist dogs.  I was worried that, as soon as I opened my door, she would start exploring everything and everybody at the gas station, or that she would start barking at some innocent black person just trying to fill up his or her car with gas.

I have only witnessed one racist exploit of hers.  We were remodeling our house.  Sadie was young, maybe a year old.  Frank, the terminex guy, was spraying edge of the foundation with bug repellant.  I was in my room playing Mario Cart–best Nintendo game ever–when Sadie started barking.  I walked out to see what was the matter.  There was Frank just minding his own business, killing bugs.  There have have been a few other incidents that I wasn’t around for, but mom told me about them later.

Thankfully for me, she didn’t bark at anyone at the gas station.  Maybe, she is finally realized that she’s a black lab.

Explosions, Short Stories and Scuplture

So, it has been a couple weeks since I last posted.  In that time there has been an explosion of excitement in my hometown-literally and metaphorically.  There was, literally, an explosion, but it wasn’t made of excitement.  No, it was made of natural gas.  A natural gas line ruptured.  I was in my dorm when it all transpired.  I had just gotten out of the shower and was checking my phone.  I had a message from my sister that said, “Some big explosion happened way off and it’s still rattling the windows”.  This made me very curious.  I checked Facebook and discovered that a gas line had indeed burst.  Apparently, the explosion lasted from about 2:00 A.M. to 4:30 A.M.  I hated to have missed it.  I’ve never experienced something like that.  A lot of people said, “I thought the world was ending.”  I even heard of one guy who was on the verge of tears because he knew it was the rapture and he knew he had been bad and his parents would be taken and he would be left behind.  (Was that to many ands?  It sounded good in my head, but it looks wrong on paper.)  It just seems like such a crazy experience.  And…I missed it.  Sad.  (Oh, and no one was hurt.)

I’ve been writing a lot recently.  Not on here, unfortunately.  I’ve always enjoyed writing.  Recently, I wanted to write some short stories.  Rather than just thinking about it, I decided to finally just do it.  I’ve started writing three stories so far, and I’ve got three more ideas I want to start. I’ve also been reading a lot short stories to try to find a formula to work from.  I didn’t really know what to do for a short story.  I didn’t know if I needed more or less character development.  I didn’t know about how the action should rise and fall.  I also didn’t know how long the story should be.  The powers of wikipedia were needed!  I found that for a story to classify as a short story it has to have more than 1,000 words and less than 20,000.  I found that most of the classics-Twain, London or Tolstoy-range from 7,000 to 10,000 words.  In my research, I have also discovered Flash Fiction.  I’ve been writing about one flash fiction story a night before I go to bed.  There are several different types of flash fiction.  One says there has to be less than fifty-five words.  Another rule says a flash fiction story has contain no less than 200 words but no more than 300.  Then the most general flash fiction has to simply have less than 1,000 words.  I’ve been really enjoying writing flash fiction, because it’s so quick.  I don’t feel the need to develop a plot or characters.  I feel more freedom to just improvise.  I like having the freedom to just start writing, not knowing where it will end up.  I’ve kind of wanted to start a blog with the exclusive purpose of posting some of these stories.  I’m kind of embarrassed for people to read what I have written.

I have recently started another blog.  It was about my spirituality, but I think I am going to delete it.  I feel I should devote my time to this blog.  She was my first *wink*!  Actually this wasn’t my first blog.  This was and is my second.  I had another blog under the exact same name at Blogger.  Actually, it’s still there.  I haven’t used it in a while.  I saw all the analytics and technology on WordPress, and I was sold.  I guess there is a certain vanity to that.  I got caught up on seeing how many people were visiting my site.  I originally joined blogger for its simplicity.  It was straight to the point.  It didn’t distract you with site views and popularity.  It was just straight forward.  Now, I’m at WordPress.  Wordpress is very distracting.  They have very good analytics.  They can track how many readers you have.  That’s nice, but it can put a writer in a dangerous position.  Not physically dangerous, of course, but I have found myself thinking “Would people like to read that?” instead of what I should be thinking, “What do I want to write about?”.  That was why I originally got into blogging.  Just to share my views on the world.

I have been rather busy.  I’ve been working on a sculpture for my sculpture class.  It was made of wire and a coffee cup.  I underestimated how long it would take me to wrap all the wire.  It was completed only hours before the due date Thursday morning.  I wanted it to be about unity among our society, unfortunately I made it exclusively out of wire.  The unity message didn’t really translate.  Jeff, my instructor, instructed me and didn’t criticize.  I was glad about that.  He is one of those teachers who can be hard on us, but if he gives you praise you know you earned it.  At the end of the day I like that kind of teacher, because I always learn from them.

I hope this wasn’t to pointless, and that you enjoyed it!  If you write stories please feel free to email me! (emt164@gmail.com)  I would love to read your stuff.  Also, please comment below if you know of some good short stories or authors.  Lastly, I’ve been reading a lot of short stories, but The Ransom of Red Chief is my favorite! It’s really funny!  Check it out here!