Something rather strange happened to me yesterday. I was on the way to my room with a large package under my arm, when two sixty(ish) year old people approached me--one man and one woman. They were wearing the kind of clothing that one usually sees on psychologists or, perhaps, painters. The man had on a sort of poncho and some very loose pants (that looked as if they were made of canvas), and the woman had on a purple dress that came straight out of the sixties.
They handed me a small booklet with the title of Yoga (and some subtitle I can't recall), and explained that they were trying to raise awareness of the "true" spirit of Yoga. Then, while the woman still had her hand on the book, she asked me if I would be willing to contribute a small amount of money for their cause, and added, as a sort of passing question, "You do believe in God, don't you?"
This question struck me as rather uncalled for and out of place. The way it was interjected into the conversation, one sided as it was, seemed to imply that they didn't want to be asking for money from a person who did not believe in God. What convinced me more of the fact that they thought this way was how much more persistent in their asking they were after I answered "yes" to their question. I didn't have any money, nor would I have given it to them if I did. It just felt really strange and uncomfortable talking to two human beings who only wanted money from a believer. All of the atheists out there, it seems, are going to have a hard time purchasing things with money. Maybe clam shells still count as currency.
Showing posts with label General Musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label General Musings. Show all posts
March 2, 2007
February 26, 2007
A quickie for the whetting of thy appetite
Hi all. I am not posting anything of real significance tonight due to a large amount of homework, but I did just want to pop by to say hello and let you know what is to come tomorrow.
As I am sure most of you have noticed by now, my attempt at a serial novel failed. I may return to it in the future, but for now will be substituting it with another project, which I feel you will enjoy. For those of you who attend NCSA, you know who my roommate is. For everyone else, allow me to provide you with a bit of an introduction. His name is Edd, and he tends to make up words all day long. Most of the time, these made-up tidbits are simply annoying, but on the rare occasion, they are funny (in a did-he-actually-just-say-that sort of way). So, beginning tomorrow, I will be starting a new project, affectionately titled "Daily Eddism". Each day, I will post a word or phrase that Edd has made up, and talk about it for a bit. (Oh, and do not fret! I will also be making an additional post each day unrelated to my roommate. For those of you fortunate enough to have a faculty for mathematics, that means that I will be making two posts every day! Yipee!)
That is all for now. I'll catch you tomorrow.
As I am sure most of you have noticed by now, my attempt at a serial novel failed. I may return to it in the future, but for now will be substituting it with another project, which I feel you will enjoy. For those of you who attend NCSA, you know who my roommate is. For everyone else, allow me to provide you with a bit of an introduction. His name is Edd, and he tends to make up words all day long. Most of the time, these made-up tidbits are simply annoying, but on the rare occasion, they are funny (in a did-he-actually-just-say-that sort of way). So, beginning tomorrow, I will be starting a new project, affectionately titled "Daily Eddism". Each day, I will post a word or phrase that Edd has made up, and talk about it for a bit. (Oh, and do not fret! I will also be making an additional post each day unrelated to my roommate. For those of you fortunate enough to have a faculty for mathematics, that means that I will be making two posts every day! Yipee!)
That is all for now. I'll catch you tomorrow.
February 20, 2007
The oddity that is time
Ok, so first of all, I'm sorry. I completely lied, and didn't post again last night. I really did have plans to, but my roommate turned on Taxi Driver and I couldn't resist watching it.
Anyway, over the last few weeks, I have begun to realize how much I am going to miss NCSA when I leave at the end of the year. I realize that I complain day in and day out about how annoying the high school life staff is and how awfully similar to a prison this school truly is, but this complaining does not mean that I dislike being here. When I first got here at the beginning of the year, it was great to see everyone again, and it felt like my senior year in high school was going to be a slow, yet fun one. Well, here it is, two or three weeks before the end of winter term, and I don't feel like I have been at school for more that a couple of weeks.
What is really strange, though, is that as much as I want the year to slow down, I constantly catch myself watching the clock during every class and counting down the days until the weekend arrives. In every class, on every day of the week, week in and week out, I half-listen to the teacher and half think about how much I wish it were Friday instead of Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday. When I get these oh-so-frequent thoughts, they don't seem at all out of place or in direct contrast to my feelings with respect to my time left at the school of the arts.
Time is such a weird thing. It is a steady, forward moving stream that doesn't slow or quicken. It can be shrunken down to the size of a watch, yet is far more expansive and complex than can ever be understood. Why then, does time always feel as if it is moving contrary to how one desires? In English at 1:48pm, time moves at less-than-quarter-pace. But, when I'm just sitting in the snack bar, laughing with people, the minutes tick by faster that seems possible.
Such an abstract thing as time shouldn't be able to cause so much concern. It's not something tangible, and the only way of measuring it is by assigning to it an arbitrary, circular order. The big ideas, like death and existence don't really concern me in the least. How then is it that simply thinking about time always makes me sad?
I'm going to miss it here so incredibly much when the year has ended. I just hope that it doesn't continue to go by so fast.
Damn, I wish it were Saturday.
Anyway, over the last few weeks, I have begun to realize how much I am going to miss NCSA when I leave at the end of the year. I realize that I complain day in and day out about how annoying the high school life staff is and how awfully similar to a prison this school truly is, but this complaining does not mean that I dislike being here. When I first got here at the beginning of the year, it was great to see everyone again, and it felt like my senior year in high school was going to be a slow, yet fun one. Well, here it is, two or three weeks before the end of winter term, and I don't feel like I have been at school for more that a couple of weeks.
What is really strange, though, is that as much as I want the year to slow down, I constantly catch myself watching the clock during every class and counting down the days until the weekend arrives. In every class, on every day of the week, week in and week out, I half-listen to the teacher and half think about how much I wish it were Friday instead of Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday or Thursday. When I get these oh-so-frequent thoughts, they don't seem at all out of place or in direct contrast to my feelings with respect to my time left at the school of the arts.
Time is such a weird thing. It is a steady, forward moving stream that doesn't slow or quicken. It can be shrunken down to the size of a watch, yet is far more expansive and complex than can ever be understood. Why then, does time always feel as if it is moving contrary to how one desires? In English at 1:48pm, time moves at less-than-quarter-pace. But, when I'm just sitting in the snack bar, laughing with people, the minutes tick by faster that seems possible.
Such an abstract thing as time shouldn't be able to cause so much concern. It's not something tangible, and the only way of measuring it is by assigning to it an arbitrary, circular order. The big ideas, like death and existence don't really concern me in the least. How then is it that simply thinking about time always makes me sad?
I'm going to miss it here so incredibly much when the year has ended. I just hope that it doesn't continue to go by so fast.
Damn, I wish it were Saturday.
February 19, 2007
There is life in me yet
Well hello there. Yes, I am still alive! (I just know all five of you were worried.) I'm sorry that I've been so lax in posting, and I promise that I'll be better from now on. I've just been a bit busy lately, and posting was last on my list of things to do.
Anyway, I'm going to go now. I just wanted to make known that fact that I will finally post something of substance later tonight. I promise! Oh! Also, check out this video Alex and I made as a project for English class:
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead!
That's all for now. (Oh, and just in case you don't know me, I am the one who is wearing the black coat and the long-sleeved blue shirt.)
Anyway, I'm going to go now. I just wanted to make known that fact that I will finally post something of substance later tonight. I promise! Oh! Also, check out this video Alex and I made as a project for English class:
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead!
That's all for now. (Oh, and just in case you don't know me, I am the one who is wearing the black coat and the long-sleeved blue shirt.)
January 29, 2007
We don't get too many of your kind here
Everyone who has gone to high school has no doubt read Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird. What you may not know is that this fabulous book's author is an extremely reclusive woman in her mid-eighties living in Alabama. Once a year, a contest is held statewide, and one lucky Alabama high school student has the chance to meet with Ms. Lee in a one-on-one setting.
Yesterday on the way back up to NCSA from the cultural black hole that is Pinehurst, I was listening to NPR when a piece concerning the Alabama "To Kill a Mockingbird Essay Contest" was aired. The meat of this report was an interview with last year's winner, a seventeen year old girl who had the unmistakable accent of an entire life living in the deep South. Her winning essay was about an experience she had as a Sophomore whilst playing the role of Scout in a two-school production of To Kill a Mockingbird. The production, which was a joint effort between the winner's (nearly) all-white high school and another (entirely) all-black high school, was so successful that even the hermit-like Harper Lee came out in public--surrounded by security guards--to watch the performance.
The interview on NPR was centered around the essay contest winner, Regan, and her co-star Roman, who portrayed Tom Robinson in the production. During this interview, a very interesting statement was made, almost in unison, by both Regan and Roman. Regan, who attends a white high school and Roman, who attends a (much poorer) black high school both stated that until their production of To Kill a Mockingbird, neither had spoken to, much less seen a person of each other's race.
This, needless to say, completely blew me away. The idea that a white seventeen year old had never seen or spoken to a black person until her junior year in high school is staggering. The existence of two high schools, both attended by single-race student bodies and mere miles apart, is something that simply should not occur today.
I drove in the car, aghast, for a few more minutes, until I came to a somewhat heartbreaking realization. Even I, a middle-class white eighteen year old from a multi-religious, multi-cultural household, remember a time when I had never come in contact with an African American. In fact, I distinctly recall not having a single black student in any of my classes until sixth grade! Of course, now-a-days, I am completely tolerant to people of all races, religions, etc., but I think that this is a lucky thing. No wonder there is so much race related hate in this world. There is still a huge divide between all races, but especially between the black and white communities in this country. And, now that I think about it, in my hometown of Pinehurst, I can't remember a single time where I have seen an African American on the streets of the Village of Pinehurst. Not one. Only in downtown Southern Pines, a much poorer town next door to Pinehurst, does one run into a multi-racial group.
I sincerely hope that by the time I have children, it will be an odd thing for a young child not to have interaction with children of different racial backgrounds. Now though, finding out that there are still high schools of completely singular-race student bodies, I am not too optimistic.
Yesterday on the way back up to NCSA from the cultural black hole that is Pinehurst, I was listening to NPR when a piece concerning the Alabama "To Kill a Mockingbird Essay Contest" was aired. The meat of this report was an interview with last year's winner, a seventeen year old girl who had the unmistakable accent of an entire life living in the deep South. Her winning essay was about an experience she had as a Sophomore whilst playing the role of Scout in a two-school production of To Kill a Mockingbird. The production, which was a joint effort between the winner's (nearly) all-white high school and another (entirely) all-black high school, was so successful that even the hermit-like Harper Lee came out in public--surrounded by security guards--to watch the performance.
The interview on NPR was centered around the essay contest winner, Regan, and her co-star Roman, who portrayed Tom Robinson in the production. During this interview, a very interesting statement was made, almost in unison, by both Regan and Roman. Regan, who attends a white high school and Roman, who attends a (much poorer) black high school both stated that until their production of To Kill a Mockingbird, neither had spoken to, much less seen a person of each other's race.
This, needless to say, completely blew me away. The idea that a white seventeen year old had never seen or spoken to a black person until her junior year in high school is staggering. The existence of two high schools, both attended by single-race student bodies and mere miles apart, is something that simply should not occur today.
I drove in the car, aghast, for a few more minutes, until I came to a somewhat heartbreaking realization. Even I, a middle-class white eighteen year old from a multi-religious, multi-cultural household, remember a time when I had never come in contact with an African American. In fact, I distinctly recall not having a single black student in any of my classes until sixth grade! Of course, now-a-days, I am completely tolerant to people of all races, religions, etc., but I think that this is a lucky thing. No wonder there is so much race related hate in this world. There is still a huge divide between all races, but especially between the black and white communities in this country. And, now that I think about it, in my hometown of Pinehurst, I can't remember a single time where I have seen an African American on the streets of the Village of Pinehurst. Not one. Only in downtown Southern Pines, a much poorer town next door to Pinehurst, does one run into a multi-racial group.
I sincerely hope that by the time I have children, it will be an odd thing for a young child not to have interaction with children of different racial backgrounds. Now though, finding out that there are still high schools of completely singular-race student bodies, I am not too optimistic.
January 28, 2007
Oh the people you'll meet
Ever since I was old enough to express anger at the stupidity of others, I have been told it takes all kinds to make the world to go 'round. If someone cuts in front of you in line at McDonald's, it is not an appropriate response to punch them on the shoulder and yell, "Hey, ass hole! Look around! I was here first!" When dealing with someone working at Wal-Mart, you must be patient with their blatant lack of IQ points. Ordering from a catalog customer service representative, must be done in a clear voice with beautiful enunciation. You must do this without question or comment. After all, their stupidity is what makes the Earth not fall out of orbit. If we didn't have all the ignorant and inconsiderate people living amongst us, life as we know it may just cease to exist!
What a load of bull shit. There's no empirical proof that if all these sorts of people who make it their missions in life to cut you off on the road and make your every-day shopping experience a living hell were to simply disappear or, better yet, spontaneously vaporize, anything bad would happen. No. I'm on to you Mom! I think the next time someone decides to go twenty-three in a forty-five mph zone, I'm going to tap their bumper slightly. I highly doubt the Earth will stop spinning on the spot. I guess if it does though, you'll know to whom it's necessary to bitch.
What a load of bull shit. There's no empirical proof that if all these sorts of people who make it their missions in life to cut you off on the road and make your every-day shopping experience a living hell were to simply disappear or, better yet, spontaneously vaporize, anything bad would happen. No. I'm on to you Mom! I think the next time someone decides to go twenty-three in a forty-five mph zone, I'm going to tap their bumper slightly. I highly doubt the Earth will stop spinning on the spot. I guess if it does though, you'll know to whom it's necessary to bitch.
January 25, 2007
The first in a series of musings...
Hi. So, I'm guessing that the first thought that crossed your mind when you got here is, "What the hell does the title mean?" I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh. Promise? OK. Well, last summer, I had a Ravitch Procedure performed on me to fix my rather deformed chest wall. Basically, the nice doctors removed all the cartilage and some of the bone from ten of my ribs so that my chest didn't stick out anymore. Although I still don't have all my ribs back (seven months later!), they will eventually-within the year, they say-be back to normal. No...I'm not telling you this for pity points. I just wanted to shed some light onto the relatively obscure title of my blog.
Ok. Now that I have gotten that off my chest (gah!), I'll explain to all of you faithful readers-ok, the what I assume to be future faithful readers-what exactly this blog will be about. I have managed to avoid both MySpace and FaceBook with much pride, as I think they are both extraordinarily stupid methods of communication. However, I really enjoy to write, and usually have tons of thoughts on my mind. So, I figured that getting myself a blog wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. This blog will most likely have no discernible theme at all, and I'll be posting with no predetermined frequency. I do know that I will be most often posting directly after something pisses me off. It should at least be a bit funny to read the rantings of an uber-nerd.
Anyway, this is all for now. I am currently in the process of learning German on my own so that I don't act the completely stupid American when I get to Switzerland in September, so I am going to go ahead and do a lesson now in hopes that I will be done before my roommate gets back to the room and starts playing music.
Ok. Now that I have gotten that off my chest (gah!), I'll explain to all of you faithful readers-ok, the what I assume to be future faithful readers-what exactly this blog will be about. I have managed to avoid both MySpace and FaceBook with much pride, as I think they are both extraordinarily stupid methods of communication. However, I really enjoy to write, and usually have tons of thoughts on my mind. So, I figured that getting myself a blog wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. This blog will most likely have no discernible theme at all, and I'll be posting with no predetermined frequency. I do know that I will be most often posting directly after something pisses me off. It should at least be a bit funny to read the rantings of an uber-nerd.
Anyway, this is all for now. I am currently in the process of learning German on my own so that I don't act the completely stupid American when I get to Switzerland in September, so I am going to go ahead and do a lesson now in hopes that I will be done before my roommate gets back to the room and starts playing music.
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