Reading a book by Rachel Maddow, conservative parents concerned.

Hello, again readers, whom ever you maybe.  Is that the proper use of whom?  I’m not entirely sure.  Please comment the correct usage below.

I’ve been reading a lot recently.  I’ve been reading a lot of one book, to be more specific.  When one is a slow reader, one spends a lot of time not making progress.  Either I’m getting faster or Michael Crichton’s Prey is an easy read.  I finished it about four days.  It was an excellant read.  Being a thriller about nanobot technology, I couldn’t put it down.  (<—clever sentence structure, right? I’m trying new things)

I had started reading Drift by Rachel Maddow, hence the opening sentence.  It was one of four books I got for free before school ended.  It was the last week of school, and I needed to purchase batteries for Cecilia, the name I’ve given to my camera.  I went to the University book store, and the cashier informed me that I had $103 in cub cash.  Cub cash is non refundable.  I don’t know where the money came from.  When I bought some snacks at a vending maching the week before the card reader said my account balance was $1.03.  My parents didn’t deposit money into my account so where the money came from is a mystery to me.  But it had to be spent before the semester ended, otherwise it would vanish.  So, I spent it on books.  I got The Ten, Make That Nine, Habits of Very Organized People. Make That Ten. by Steve Martin, Drift by Rachel Maddow, The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin and The Pale King by David Foster Wallace.  I finished The Ten, Make That Nine, Habits of Very Organized People. Make That Ten. on the first day out of school.  It was just a compilation of Steve Martin’s tweets and funny replies by his followers.  It was a fun read.

When I started this post I had also started reading Drift, but I decided to go in another direction before I get to deep and started reading The Happiness Project.  It has some really good tips for being a happier person.  Atleast it does so far (I’ve only made it through the intro and chapter 1).  I was going to try to go to bed on time tonight, like the book suggests, but that didn’t happen.  Did you know that getting an extra hour of sleep at night causes the same ammount of happiness as recieving a $60,000 raise does.  That’s crazy to me, but it’s worth a shot.  So, I’m going to bed.

Good night readers!



“Wild Chernobyl Nights”

Summer Break.

Hello, readers and computers programed to place spam in the comment section! (I don’t discriminate)  Thank you all for reading at least to this point.  It has been a while since I have written anything.  I have been pretty busy in school, which finished last friday, but the work paid off because I finished with a 3.5 this semester.  It feels really good!  I’ve got photos of a few of my projects, which I plan to upload tomorrow or Thursday.

But enough about me! How have you been readers? …..Oh, Excellant! Except for you in the back, sorry to hear about that rash.  Please feel free to comment what you are doing or any random thought that might be slightly funny.  I prefer the random thought that might be funny because possible intimacy frightens me.

It feels good to be writing here again!  Does it feel good to be reading here again?  I hope so.  I’m assuming some of you may have found other blogs while I was away, but I do hope you’ll come back.  I’ll do stuff those other blogs can’t even dream of.  You know; semi-colon stuff.  I do miss writing for a purpose.  I’ve been writing short stories off and on, but as you might know none of them have been on this blog.

Speaking of writing I’ve had an idea for a story.  Picture this.  You and friends go on a trip to Chernobyl (because there is nothing cooler than a nuclear wasteland).  One of the people in your group sees something suspicious in the window of a building she shoots a picture off.  It looks like a person moving.  Frightened your group heads back to the car only to find that it doesn’t start.  The group gets out of the car, feeling as if they are being watched. Suddenly! ” ‘Ello!” says a voice behind you!  The voice belongs to a man with three eyes and a hand with six fingers.  Turns out the residents of Chernobyl are eager to see vistors and are very friendly.  So, then I’ll go into some description about the crazy antics you, the reader, get into.  I’m actually getting very excited to write it.  I’m going to call “Wild Chernobyl Nights”

It is late now, so I’m going to bed.  I wish you good reading!  If you made it all the way to this point congratulations!  You win an Evan dollar!  Feel free to tweet me if you enjoy the blog!

I’ve Been Trying New Things

“After ten years we started to think. What if he never dies? We knew he would eventually die, but we were all getting older and he seemed to be ageless.” That was a quote I heard on the radio today from a Cuban who lived under Fidel. He was referring to the seeming endless years when Fidel was in his fifties, and he was in his late thirties. Why do dictators seem to live so long if not disturbed? (By disturbed I mean stabbed in the anal region with a knife and then having their body displayed–Gaddaffi) Maybe it goes back to something I mentioned a couple days ago (in this post) that people who are mentally delusional live longer because of being out of touch with reality. I don’t know why I keep starting with dictators. I like to make fun of people who cause millions of others pain, discomfort and misery. Next week I’ll make fun of The View.

The title is true! I have been trying new things. I decided to start making my bed every morning. Judge me if you will, but I use to question the purpose of making a bed that is only going to be messed up later that night. (Note: Just to clarify, I never applied that logic to showering, brushing my teeth or hygiene in general.) I would pull my sheets up, but I would never fully make it. I decided to start last week. I have to say, anyone reading this should make their bed in the morning. It doesn’t change the level of comfort, but it’s one of those things that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. For that feeling, I recommend morning bed making to everyone!

I listened to Lana Del Rey’s new album yesterday when I was in the photo lab. I know she received some really bad reviews from her SNL performance (reasons that are possibly true here). I had some reservations when I decided to Spotify her. Then I heard her song Off to the Races and maaaaan! Her voice is amazing! I have never heard a woman with a voice like hers. Honestly, her voice is like auditory sex. Just like the Porsche Panamera–the chocolate brown one–is sex on wheels. Cinnamon is the sex of things put on toast (Seriously, cinnamon is amazing). I haven’t filled the other five categories of things that are sex in their respective fields…I actually haven’t made the other five categories, yet.

I’m pretty sure my main demographic for this blog is the middle age women from my home town. I’m not sure how they (or you, if you fit that criteria) are going to like that I’m comparing the things above to sex. Honestly, I’m waiting until I get married…so the above analogies are possibly inaccurate. Except for the one about Cinnamon! I know that one must be true. After all, I had a churro after dinner. If sex isn’t exciting like a cinnamon churro…Well, what’s the point?


That’s category number 4: Churro is the sex of Mexican treats that have been Americanized.

But I digress.

It’s 2:30 in the morning, but I was determined to get this out to my faithful readers! All 6.5 of you (that’s actually the number my stats sent me for one of the days last week)! This post has probably been offensive and weird, but it’s because I care! Peace!

I’ll leave you with two questions:

1. Do you like Lana Del Rey?

2. What is your favorite thing to eat that involves cinnamon?

Please leave your answers in the comments!

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.