the grand finale

This is it.  Time to reflect on the experience of blogging. 

To begin with, blogging for a class was a completely new concept for me.  I wasn’t sure what to think at first.  I was ready and willing to give it a shot; I wanted to be enthusiastic about it and put some really interesting posts up, but alas I fell victim to the worst writer’s block I’ve ever experienced in my life.

I think it has to do a lot with the open-endedness of writing for ones self and knowing that others will read.  Usually I would embrace the opportunity, but for some reason I just couldn’t think of anything to say.  It was and is very frustrating for someone like me.  This semester was full of sooo much writing that I couldn’t make blogging a more enjoyable experience.  Kind of similar to trying to read a novel in the middle of a semester full of Lit classes, it was hard to motivate myself to write for fun (although this is a major assignment).  I had fun with what I did get to write, I was just hoping to get more into it on a personal level. 

I did look at the potential post topics given to us, and thankfully they helped.  I still have trouble trying to dive into this internet thing though.  No matter what I said in my first post, it gives me the butterflies knowing that my writing is out there in the open water.  I can see the dorsel fins circling every comma splice I unwittingly make.  On the same note, it’s a great thing to be pushed into since, the reality is, if I want to continue to write I better get used to people reading my stuff. 

I think my favorite post is the second one I did,growing, camping, and purple rain.  It felt a lot like the personal essay in that it was direct experiences and observations coming from me.  That was one post where I felt like I truly had something to say.  Not that the rest of these posts don’t mean anything to me, because they all do, it’s just that it was easier for me to write that particular one. 

In the first post, onomatopoeia, I used a lot of cynical humor to describe my intial thoughts on blogging.  It comes pretty easy for me to be kind of cynical when writing, but at the same time I feel like I get stuck in that rythm and voice when I don’t always want to be.  It kind of limits my reader’s expectations, whether those expectations be good or bad, and at the same time it seemed to limit my topics.  It’s a downer, but it’s the truth man. 

I’m still interested in getting to know this type of writing more.  I would like to start with a fresh blog once the semester ends and my head clears out a bit.  If I could’ve done this all over again for ENG 306 I definitly would’ve chosen a theme to stick with.  I’m taking a Writing About Film course right now and I’m discovering how much I like to write movie reviews. That would’ve been a fun route to take for this type of medium. 

It was also great to get some feedback.  Most were very agreable and safe, but one in particular was very much the opposite.  It was on the post Barack Obama and a Parking Ticket Walked into a Bar that one of my classmates tore my writing apart.  And I couldn’t appreciate that more.  Certain points that he came away with, after reading that post, were points that I had no intention of making.  To me, that is a problem with my writing, not his reading.  That was a big learning experience in itself.  I’ve been meaning to go back and fix those parts that wrongly communicate what I was trying to say, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.

I really enjoyed reading other people’s blogs.  I wish I had started it earlier in the semester, but it seems that, like me, everyone kind of hung back until the end.  The range of ideas out there among fellow 306ers was great.  If I could give any advice to future blog students it would be to check out what your classmates are doing.  It’s a great way to get the gears moving for potential posts.

post-turkey post

It was good getting home to surround myself with some old friends and family for a couple of days. 

It used to all be about chillin with friends.  Don’t get me wrong, I still love getting together with my people, but we’ve all moved into different directions and contact has become trickier.  A good lot of them haven’t gone to college, which isn’t a bad thing, but since it is a big part of my life it makes it a bit hard to connect with certain individuals when we get together.  I also find that we spend a lot of time talking about old memories instead of making new ones.  We’re still young damn it!  Now is the time to act like it.  Right?

Regardless of how it can sometimes be, I had a blast with the old gang this past weekend.  I think it was the first time in years that we’ve had so many of us together at once.  This time I had no problem talking about days gone by; it was actually pretty refreshing to think of something else other then the present.  

As for Family, I’ve always thought it was cool that I could see cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and all different types of relatives that I hadn’t seen in years and we’ll still connect without any effort.  I’ve only met some of my cousins a hand full of times, yet it feels like we’ve been friends for years each time I see them.

I had the chance to talk to my great Uncle Fred, who I hardly ever see, this past weekend.  This guy is pretty crazy.  He’s pushing 80, can’t hear below a hardy yell, and drives a ’99 Corvette.  It was nice talking with him and my grandpa about their old cars.  I got to learn a little bit about their past through these stories of inanimate objects.  They got so into the conversation that, at one point, they didn’t seem like old men at all.  It’s kind of cheesy to say, but I could see the youth returning to their eyes with each memory. 

This break was great, however, all good things must come to an end.  Now it’s back to the crunch.  The good new: I don’t feel as anxious as I did last week.  Hopefully that isn’t a bad thing…

turkey

Damn I’m about ready for some turkey and all the other goods that come with Thanksgiving. And beyond that, I’m so damn ready for this semester to end. There is nothing better than a fresh start in a new semester; you can’t get that under the Christmas, excuse me, Holiday tree.

I feel so unorganized right now. It hurts my head even trying to think about the short amount of time and all of the stuff I must cram into it. I’ve been at this student thing for quite some time now and my procrastination habits have only gotten worse. I always say I like this kind of rush, it keeps me on my toes and all of that, but I always love to see it go away even more.

I think this semester was a little different because I took 18 credit hours. That may be the norm for some people, but not for me. I attribute my elongated college experience to the 12 or less hours semester. If I could do it all over again, I’d probably do it the same. Ha.

It wasn’t too rough throughout the semester, but now that things are boiling down it’s getting a bit tricky to juggle.  Just gotta get through the next two weeks alive…

Happy Turkey Day blog readers

and Happy Foturkey Day vegetarian blog readers

 

Barack Obama and a Parking Ticket Walked into a Bar

I hate to even bring this up, but I’m going to anyways. I find it pretty damn pathetic when people choose to verbally speculate an eventual assassination of Barack Obama.

Barack Obama is our President-Elect; we made that happen¾ we needed it to happen.  Regardless of whether you like him or not, changes will be made to our country during his term. And, whether or not those changes effect us positively or negatively, his term will still succeed in shaking up a system that has needed a good shaking up for a while now.  A government should be obedient to the will of its people, not the other way around. I believe Barack Obama recognizes this sentiment; a sentiment which was once the foundation of our country. It is a shame that this fundamental principle of our nation, and Barack himself, should be vicariously threatened by asinine assumptions that racism and hatred will overcome. With the amount of acceptance in change that America showed yesterday at the poles, I personally have faith that this will not be the case.

For those of you who feel it necessary to hear the droning predictability of such a negative assessment escape your mouth, do us all huge favor and keep it in that roomy head of yours.

Such a short-sighted observation, which is an apparent concern for any president, isn’t at all impressive. The fact that Obama is black and going to be our president should not be corresponding to an inevitable assassination. I’m not saying that this isn’t an equation to be even more concerned about, because sadly it is, but that there is a huge difference between concern and cynicism.

There is really no reason for dumb-asses to feel like some sort of macabre information kiosk. Thanks for volunteering your intelligence, but I’m sure Obama and his people are well aware of, and prepared for, the dangers of his Presidency. I don’t think anyone will be advising him to run through a field of bigot sharpshooters when he gets to the White House.

So, if you are one of these pessimists, the bottom line is that you‘re only pissing in your own cornflakes; ignorance of such quality is the cancer that has been infecting America for too long. This should be the beginning of that cancer’s remission, not one more reason to say something negative or idiotic.

For all of the racial adversity that our country has endured, this election should prove that there is an end in sight. It should prove that every equation, which may only have one result according to the naysayer, has any number of possible outcomes.

In Other News:

 

I got a ticket at a parking meter (which I paid for) today. Apparently students, who pay in order to attend school, don’t deserve an hour of metered parking. We should have to park on Oleander and ride a bus which turns an hour class into a two hour endeavor.  And it’s all for the low price of $200! Thank you, UNCW parking authorities, for putting the fascist back in fascistbullshit.

Congratulations Barack Obama

The astronaut who fights crime with his guitar and paints a masterpiece of philisophical proportions

I’m finally rounding the last bend, and I can see the straightaway leading to the finish line of my college career.  Yet I’m still struggling to come up with an answer for what it is I want to do after its all said and done. Especially when every college course I take, or have taken in the past, presents an appropriation for what I can do with my life.

I still feel like a kindergartener, constantly changing what I want to be when I grow up; the difference is that I am grown up.

I want to be a doctor, a fireman, a lawyer, a cop, an astronaut, a painter, a writer, a philosopher, a photographer, a bartender, a soldier, and a juke-box hero. The list goes on.

For lack of having 16 majors and more than one lifetime (at the moment), I can’t pursue all of these things in hopes of making the almighty dollar, but I do believe I can use their ideals for the purpose of bettering myself.

I can be a doctor: I’ll help any friend, new or old, out of a tight spot.

I can be a lawyer: I will always argue in the defense of my beliefs, as well as others, when that argument needs to be heard.

I can be a philosopher: contemplating life is a propensity of all human beings.

I can be a soldier: I will always fight for the sake of the moral law within me.

And shit, I am a juke-box hero.

I guess what it boils down to is that I, like everyone else, want to be happy. No one university major can offer that, but what I have learned throughout my extensive time as a student is that I can take pieces from every direction, everything I’ve learned, and apply those peices to being a better person for myself and others.

 

 

 

 

growing, camping, and purple rain

It’s a new presidential election year. Which means it’s been eight years since I first went canoeing in the mountains of North Carolina. I only remember that because I actually had hopes for Bush, who was up for his first election at the time. In my defense, its only because my parents liked him; I hadn’t really formed any political standing of my own yet.

Back then we were listening to, god forgive us, Limp Bizkit, Clinton was still our president, and times seemed ¾ times were easier.

My dad, and my buddy Brian’s dad, Mr. Lister, were there for that first trip down the New River, but throughout the years the key players changed. We’ve headed there almost every year since.

None of us have parents who are willing to throw thousands of dollars our way to go to sandy Cancun on spring break, nor can we afford to ourselves, so the mountains in October serves as our time to let loose, get away from home, and do it on a much humbler budget.

My dad was usually in charge of arranging this trip, but once my friends and I got our drivers licenses we pretty much took over; especially after we had graduated High School.

We usually canoe, as I mentioned earlier, for three days starting at a place called Zaloo’s Canoes in Jefferson, North Carolina, and end at a bridge thirty plus miles to the North, not far from the Virginia border.

The trip usually consisted of three things: drinking, rowing, and camping (mostly drinking). One year we drank a little too much; enough to draw the attention of a very bored ranger who treated us like terrorists with our arsenal of Natural Light. I’ll never forget those words coming out of his mouth: pop and pour.

Thanks man.

We had been busted before that, but my dad played the sympathy card explaining to the ranger that he had just gotten back from Iraq and that it would be pretty shitty if he couldn’t have some beers with his boys after a six hour drive to the mountains. He was telling the truth. The park ranger was actually a vet himself, so he let it go.

Years passed, and the camping crowd was always changing, but I was usually there orchestrating most of the ordeal.

This year served as a bit of a reunion between me and two of my oldest childhood friends: Brian, and Chris. Our old pal Joel, who I haven’t seen in years was supposed to come from Ohio, but he couldn’t make it. Joel was one of the guys along for the inaugural run. Since then he’s had a wife, a military career, a kid, and a divorce. I hear he has pretty bad Post Dramatic Stress Disorder from his tours in Iraq. I miss that guy.

Its just funny how everything changes. I mean, I know that’s obvious, but it really struck me this time around. I think the last time all three of us had been on this trip at once was over five years ago. Before we left our parents houses. Before we all had serious ladyfriends. Before those guys started their careers and I started college. Before we knew what ‘the real world’ was.

Back then we talked about weed, beer, women, music, and tried to outdo each other in any of those areas. We knew everyone in our small town, and had big dreams of leaving them all behind one day. Brian wanted to be a big time architect since the 7^th grade. Chris wanted to be a sports commentator for ESPN since 9th . I was sure to be playing my guitar in front of sold out stadiums by the time I was 23.

And the latest results: Brian works at a lumber yard that specializes in selling exotic woods to construction companies. Chris works at a sports bar as their kitchen manager and head cook. Me, I’m 23, in my fifth year of college and I’ve pushed back stardom to 28.

This time around we talked about what to do for a bad back, football, our women, marriage, kids, and even what to name these kids. I kind of hung back on the last three topics, mainly because I’m in no rush for any of it. It seemed to me like a bunch of old man talk. I joked and said I would name my kid Purple Rain. A pretty lame joke, but it broke up the severity of the name exchange happening around me.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time as usual, but the experience made me realize how content these guys actually are, and that I might never be.

In fact, I honestly hope I never am. Border-lining content keeps me motivated to improve my life, my person, my soul, and to keep reaching for what‘s beyond me. It pissed me off a little to think that they had planted their asses so snugly into that bear-trap of a town they call home and I call back home, considering how we all loathed that place just a few years back. It only seemed like they were silencing themselves with new cars, widescreen TV’s, and designer couches.

I can’t really have any of that yet (without blowing my student loans), but when I can, no material possession will be the means by which I shape my reality, as it sometimes seemed to be when listening to Brian and Chris go on about the new iPhone. As long as they are happy though, there was no reason for me to make an issue out of it. I had three days to spend with nature and two of my best friends. That mattered more to me than trying to snap them out of it, potentially ruining a good time.

Besides, maybe I still have some growing up to do.

 

onomatopoeia

So…my first impressions of blogging.  Firstly, I think the word blog is strange.  I’m aware that it’s a contraction of the words web and log, but still strange.  It’s just a strange, strange word.  In my mind it would work better in a spikey yellow bubble over Batman’s fist as he kicks some masked villain arse. 

As far as the part about sharing my opinion for anyone and everyone to read…I love it.  There’s only two opinions that I know of: mine and the wrong one.  The only problem is, I like to be in a smoke filled room, with a generous run of alcohol when I get really opinionated; unhealthy environments just bring the best out of me.  I’ve always been sure that if I could invite the worlds leaders into my garage for a couple of beers, we could really take care of some lingering issues. 

None of them have gotten back to me yet.

I do appreciate that the Internet provides an outlet for the masses.  Everyone has something important to say.  For me, there is no exception to that rule (Minus Hitler, pedo’s and Fox news.)  I just don’t know what to make of blog phenominons like Tucker Maxx, author of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell.  Maybe I’m just jealous that the guy is making millions off of asinine stories and I’m not.  That could very well be it, but still, are we really going to glorify a guy for telling us a story about skidmarks he left behind on a white couch?  There’s something innately wrong with that.  

I also have a concern about blogging becoming some sort of social ouroboros.  People can hide behind a web identity and spit out opinions, credible or not, for all their days on earth if they wanted to.  Responding and posting and posting and responding.  Some people I’m acquainted with live through their myspace or facebook.  Or worse they are stuck on someone elses.  That kind of bothers me.  That’s pretty much paranoid and unfounded (maybe not worth bringing up), but I know what I mean.  Maybe some of you will know instantly what I’m getting at and will be able to word it more poignantly in a response.

And that concludes my first spikey yellow bubble.