What I've Been Up To

I realize that I haven't updated this blog properly in months. I'm quite sorry. So, to appease those of you that still read this...a brief retrospective on what I've learned this school year, and some very important non-school phenomena.


--I really couldn't have asked for a better floor than D5. I had a bit of a hard time finding people to hang out with until the floor started coming together. These guys (and a few girls) helped make life bearable when everything else sucked, and I've probably had more laughs this year than any other. So many inside jokes, so many long nights. Totally worth it. Thanks for making me feel like I belonged, guys. (Connor and Jaclyn, honorary D5 status means you = guys.)


--I'm figuring out the way my mind works in an academic setting. If I'm not very intrigued by your subject matter, or if your class isn't challenging me, I will not perform well. I excelled in JOUR200 this year because my prof (Dr. Kirch) was the MAN, and almost every class posed a thought-provoking question about the nature of my future career. My lowest final grade was in COMM107, an absurdly easy class. I just had no motivation to do well, and it showed. (I could get a whole blog post about how stupid that class was...another time, perhaps. Actually, while writing this post, the professor pulled off another move of remarkable stupidity...) Hopefully the challenge will get ramped up in future semesters, though I'm going to need time for...


--Peake. Wow. I knew that everyone there could play their instruments, but the improvement was still remarkable. At first I missed the closely knit Souderton drumlines, probably because I was really close with a lot of Mirage members outside of drumline. And then Wildwood happened. I realized how close we all were. I saw grown men and women cry. It was incredible. I wish I'd had more time to hang out with the members of the line (because everyone knows I'm not social in a rehearsal setting).


And, arguably more importantly, I felt something I've never felt before: sweet, sweet victory. I'm not trying to brag (it's not like it was my individual efforts that got Peake that gold medal), but it was a truly incredible feeling. We were rockstars. People came to watch us rehearse and STAYED. People we'd never met cheered us on. I was so used to hearing my organization's score near the bottom of the barrel; it was great to win. And I'd encourage any percussionists to come join Peake. Hint hint.


--Maryland marching band...well, you guys were fun. I just can't perform in a noncompetitive setting. I love the people, but...eh, not for me.


But I'm grateful I did it last year...because that was where I met Winger, who told me about Peake, which was awesome, and that was where I heard about Windsor, which will hopefully be just as awesome.


--I really miss sleeping in. Just sayin'.


--I've finally realized a very powerful reason to enter the journalism field, as cutthroat and low-paying as it may be.


Journalists tell the public what to think. If a story's not reported, it's like it never happened, and you don't think about it. The way we write a story influences how you interpret it, whether you'll admit it or not.


I'm aiming to be a music journalist. I'll get to be a part of what shapes the musical tastes of America (and you know well that I'll only promote the artists that deserve it). Suddenly, this major doesn't seem so bleak after all.


That's all I've got for now...I know this all was rather incoherent, I seem to have forgotten how to write blog posts well. Ah well, maybe next time.

Don't worry about this, just trying to fix a problem with my email signature.

The Altar: Chapter 1 (1)

As promised, here's the first chapter of my novel-in-very-slow-progress, The Altar. Not sure how I feel about this opening. Check my older posts for a refresher on the context and setting (I think it's in July under 'another novel idea. Pun intended'), and if it still doesn't make sense or I've changed too much stuff since that initial concept, comment or message me on facebook. Other comments and criticism are welcome and highly encouraged. 

Chapter 1

At 8:00 AM tomorrow, you are to report to my office. You will be sent to Primitive Village #239 immediately afterward. You will be observing their activities for one year. Normal Primitive observation protocol applies. Your focus will be on the political and religious stability of the village, though of course anything else you deem worth reporting should be mentioned. Come to my office should you have any questions.

--G

Message sent at 17:47, 6 July 2459.

Joseph Zerra, Head of the Department of Primitive Studies, glanced at this message on his tablet computer one last time; still nothing had changed. He knocked three times on the wooden door to the Genius's living quarters and shuddered. He had nothing to hide, no reason for guilt--but to be in the presence of a man of such power was somewhat unsettling. He had discovered...no, created immortality and antirads at the age of forty. Zerra was forty, and all he had was a few reports on Primitive activity. It was enough to make a man feel quite useless...You cannot tolerate those sorts of thoughts, Zerra. Every action to further the Elite cause is crucial.

By this point a pretty, somewhat flustered brunette in an white night robe had opened the door. “And you are?”

“Joseph Zerra. Head of Primitive Study. Here for a pre-observation sendoff.”

“Let him in!” a deep, commanding voice echoed. The brunette, who Zerra recognized as a member of his department, politely stepped out of the way. Zerra walked straight ahead, trying not to look the woman in the eye. Should have known that he'd pick her next.

He walked straight ahead to a long hallway filled with simple wooden doors. The familiar sounds of muted shrieks and cackles filled the first room on his right. Ignoring these, he opened the third one on the left and sat in the chair in front of the large mahogany desk, as always. In a few minutes the Genius entered and sat on the opposite side of the desk. He was thin, bald and very pale, and yet tall, athletic, dark Zerra was unnerved by looking at him. It must have been the sunglasses—he reportedly suffered from photophobia, but some thought he enjoyed the power he held by making it impossible to look him in the eye. Maybe it was the black suit that made his already pale skin seem alien. Either way, Zerra felt a strange, reverent terror in his presence.

“Hello, Zerra,” he said courteously, offering his hand.

“Good day, Your Omniscience,” Zerra responded with an overzealous handshake.

“So, let's not waste time. You are leaving for your observation now?” The Genius was already flipping through a stack of papers.

“Yes, Your Omniscience.”

“Perfect. Prompt as always. Well, you know the protocol by now, I'd say—this is your...sixth observation, yes?” Zerra nodded a little too quickly as the Genius went on without missing a beat. “Report on the religious and political stability and anything else that needs reporting. Do not intervene directly or indirectly with any of their affairs, or severe punishment will be enacted. If you are discovered, leave posthaste, and I will handle the matter. Your rations will be delivered weekly. And keep in mind...” Here the Genius leaned closer. “This village is one of particular significance. It is one of the largest and most stable in all of North America. It was one of the first that I told about Xaheros. Amos and I may make an appearance to reward them for their piety.”

Zerra raised his eyebrows—it was always rare for the Genius to leave the comforts of the Elite community. “Understood, Your Omniscience.”

“Very good. Your essentials are in the backpack. Here are the coordinates for the teleporter.” The Genius stood up and extended his pale right hand again. “Farewell, Zerra.”

“Goodbye, Your Omniscience.” Zerra shook the centuries-old hand in front of him, picked up the heavy backpack on the floor and departed without another word. The teleporter (a simple floor-mount with a scanner module for receiving coordinates) was kept two doors down the hall on his right. He opened the door, tried to remember if he had forgotten anything, came up empty, placed the paper with the coordinates into the teleporter module and stepped onto the shining chromium surface. There was a rush of wind and color—he blinked and found himself in a world that seemed nearly alien. It was an open field surrounded by forest. All the plant life around him was either dead or absurdly overgrown. The hum of insect life around him was oppressively loud; it was cicada season.

Zerra sighed, dug into his backpack and pulled out a thick white one-piece outfit. As soon as he had zipped it up, a softer, mechanical hum met his ears—the sound of antirads purging his body and clothes of the radioactive nuclei he had come in contact with as soon as he arrived. He started walking eastward—Village #239 was about an hour's walk away from his coordinates, ensuring that his sudden arrival by teleportation would remain unnoticed.

The Genius closed the video feed on his tablet computer. “Another safe arrival,” he said to himself. He left his office, returning to his bedroom as the brunette was removing her towel after a shower. She didn't seem to notice his arrival, so he sat down contentedly.

About twenty seconds passed before she turned around, startled and concealed herself with the towel “What are you—oh, it's you, All-Knowing One,” she said, somewhat relieved.

The Genius waved a hand casually. “As you were.”

The brunette proceeded to remove her towel in a noticeably sensual manner, and the Genius smiled softly to himself. With her back turned, the brunette queried, “Tell me, All-Knowing One, was I...satisfactory last night?”

The old man shook his head, still smiling. “Yes, dear, you were excellent.” There was no dishonesty in his voice—even after four hundred and eighty-three years of life, there were still women that could excite him in bed.

“Oh, I'm so glad to hear that, All-Knowing One,” the brunette said with a vapid ecstasy that nearly made the Genius gag. “You were incredible, of course.”

“So I've heard,” the old man replied. “I do think I shall be asking for your return in the near future.”

The woman tried to contain her joy. “Thank you, All-Knowing One...I will be glad to oblige any time.”

“Of course you will,” the Genius responded. By this point the brunette was fully clothed in a businesslike yet rather attractive woman's suit (the Genius took note that she had been smart enough to pack a change of clothes). “Remind me of your name again, would you?”

“Sarah Layne,” she responded, not in the least offended. It was never wise to be offended by anything the Genius did.

“Layne. Duly noted. Well, have a good day.”

“Same to you, All-Knowing One,” Layne said brightly as she left the Genius's quarters.

He shook his head slowly. Sometimes he thought that someone of his intelligence and position would not demand young women to come to his bed every night, that he had more important things to think about, that he was literally centuries older than some of his partners (Layne was nineteen by his estimation)...and yet even then some attractive young Elite would catch his eye, and, well, they never seemed to refuse.

Such wretched creatures. All of them are brilliant, independent, strong—they could run their own Enclave if they wanted to. And yet they let me have their way with them, and they enjoy it. All because I am powerful. They disgust me.

And yet...who am I to say no?

http://www.epinions.com/content_5486780548

Read it.  Leave comments here if you've got 'em.

Thanks!

That is all.

New Year's, revised

So, I had a New Year's post. Then I realized it was kind of self-defeating. How am I ever going to get over the terrible things that happened last year if I keep talking about them? Sounds like I'm running away from my problems, right? No. I call it a tactical retreat, arming myself with good times till I'm capable of looking back with a smile.

That might be the corniest thing I've ever written. But I've learned that it's so much easier to face the negative parts of life when you've had a lot of good times. So, let's waste no time in talking about the past and move on.

Here are my resolutions, such as they are.

1. Write The Altar. If I don't write and publish the story of Joseph Zerra, Ralis and the Genius, it will kill me. I know where I want to go with the story. I have it all laid out. Now it's time for the long hard slog of translating my vision into text. But I just HAVE to write this book. 

2. Get better at drumming! I don't know if I'm coming back to Maryland's marching band, but I do know that my chops are nowhere near where I want them to be if I come back to Peake for 2011-2012. I'm discovering just how badly I was handicapped by playing saxophone for four years at Souderton...well, all my life, really. For the first time, there are people pointing out flaws in the way I play that I never even knew I had...I'm not used to someone paying constant attention to the basses at all! I've been working on my technique all break, but I'm honestly terrified that I'll come back and it'll all be for naught. 

3. Get a 4.0 GPA. I was .2% short of it last semester. I know I can manage it, especially with my weeknights free thanks to the end of band. What can I say? I'm a perfectionist. 

4. I think this is going to be a recurring resolution: make the year not suck. But this time, I've got a bit more of a concrete focus. By 'make the year not suck,' I mean...Focus on the positives. Don't act like there are no negatives, but don't let them drag you down either. Don't feel like you have to fix everything that's wrong with the world. Find your outlet and take advantage of it. 

New addition!

5. Paraphrased from Casey:

Don't use the words 'ugly or 'fat' to describe people.

Don't use the word 'gay' to describe anything except people that are actually homosexual. 

That's all I've got. 

Bring it on, 2011. I could use a fresh start.
LET'S GO.

in which i damn thinspo sites and offer some optimism

If you're my friend on facebook, you probably saw me post a status saying 'there are times when I just really hate the world.'

Here's an example of why. http://fromthintofatandbackagain.tumblr.com/
Thinspo sites. Seriously. what. the. f.
Every single one of these should be shut down.  


Look I get that you have the First Amendment on your side and it's your lifestyle choice. You're going to say 'you don't understand me' and 'you have no right to tell me how I get to live' and 'it's my body, I can do with it what I want' and all that crap.


You're right in one regard. I'll never understand you. I've never come to the point that I've wanted to restrict or purge as an emotional response to what's wrong in my life (or for whatever reason you choose to do it). Because quite frankly I love food. So maybe I'll never fully understand how you choose to act the way you do. But I've seen what it does.

Eating disorders nearly killed one of my friends...twice.
Eating disorders nearly tore my family apart.
Eating disorders ruined me for months.


AND YOU DEDICATE A SITE TO SUPPORTING THIS?! 
You tell the world that this is fine. You tell the world that your struggles against the forces of food are some sort of valiant martyrdom and your self-destruction is a victory.


You are wrong. Terribly, completely, utterly wrong.


You are succumbing to the darkest forces known to man with every restriction, every purge, every dark thought.


Your beauty is not tied to your weight. Your value is not tied to your weight. 


Your beauty lies in who you are. And who you are is not your figure. Who you are is who you love, what you do, your passions, your dreams. And if any of those involve your figure, these aren't you. These are sick perversions. Don't let them define you.


I realize that platitudes like these don't work most of the time. I'm holding out hope that they'll work for someone. I realize that thinspo sites aren't going to go away because an angry teenager told them to. I'm hoping that this will diminish their power to some slight degree. 

this song...

All of the following happen when I listen to this song.

1. If I'm on shuffle (which is about 75% of my listening), I say something to the effect of "aw, yes!" or "good song!"
2. I am rendered speechless for about three minutes and forty-two seconds. 
3. I find it nearly impossible to think of anything else besides how incomparably beautiful this song is. 
4. I marvel at the fact that this isn't the version they put on the actual album.
5. I repeat the song at least once. I'm in the midst of my third play in a row right now.

Thrice, you never cease to amaze me.