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. 

marching band challenge

Stolen from tumblr, though I'm not posting this in one-day increments. Sorry non-band kids, just bear with me here.

Day 1 - Name, instrument, position, school, background

Michael Denison, alto sax/bass drum 5-6
Souderton Area High School (Big Red Marching Band, Mirage Indoor Drumline), University of Maryland College Park, Chesapeake Indoor Percussion (not really a school, but I'm marching there anyway)

Background: played sax since 4th grade, marched 4 years in a pretty...unsuccessful high school band, marched indoor '07-08 and '09-10 at Souderton on bass 5, fell in love with percussion, marched bass 6 at UMCP, marching bass 5 at Chesapeake, looking to play percussion as much as I can, even though I'll probably never be able to play anything more than bottom bass.

Day 2 - Favorite Corps

DCI: Phantom Regiment. Such brilliant show design, and consistently amazing percussion.
WGI: Riverside Community College. Best tenor lines almost every year, and I love that they focus more on chops than gimmicks. I love Pulse and Rhythm X's show designs, but RCC makes me gasp just by watching their tenors' hands. Also, they've been dominating for a DECADE whereas RX and Pulse have come onto the scene pretty late--they'll have to have a few more good years before they supplant RCC.

Can you tell I like WGI more than DCI?

Day 3 - Favorite Show You’ve Performed

Mirage Indoor Drumline '09-10: A Cognitive View of Psychology
After marching my sophomore year, I came back to a bassline that had improved incredibly in two years. We couldn't split 16ths in Symmetrics...suddenly we were locking 32nds. The drill was awesome, even if I couldn't make half the sets. The music was really well-written, and I've never been more excited walking off the floor than I was after that show. Suck it, TIA judges.

Day 4 - Least Favorite Show You’ve Performed

University of Maryland '10, Dance Crazes
It just sucked. Dumb concept, could not motivate myself to learn the music, and it was over thanksgiving break. Close behind: Big Red Marching Band 07-08, America's Music: Aaron Copland. Did not translate to marching band AT ALL.

Day 5 - Favorite Show You’ve Seen
Seen live? Whatever BD '07 (or was it '08?) was. They ROCKED Allentown that night.
Seen ever: Pulse '10: Worth the Wait. I still watch it periodically, and I'm still amazed. Yeah, I know, RCC is my favorite line, but that show was designed so well--the 'wait for it...WAIT FOR IT!!!,' the perfect body movements, the roll they locked for a minute, the stick tossing...everything.

Day 6 - Favorite Marching Memory
Walking off the floor after A Cognitive View of Psychology in finals. The energy we took off the floor was amazing. We threw down the best show of our lives, and we had every right to believe that we were going home with a medal, or at least the highest score Souderton had gotten in years.

Day 7 - Least Favorite Marching Memory
Hearing the scores after that show's finals. 86?! After getting 89 before prelims, 88 at prelims WITHOUT ELECTRICITY so you couldn't hear our pit, fixing everything...ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS, TIA?!?!

Don't know if I'll ever forgive them for that.

Day 8 - The One Feeling During The Season That You’ll Never Forget

Championships. Walking into Wildwood and seeing a stadium full of people, all of them interested in this art you've devoted months of your life to. And then, walking off knowing you had a great run at championships.

Day 9 - Biggest Marching Disappointment

I'm being really repetitive, but 2010 TIA finals after announcing the scores sucked. Also, coming to Maryland and realizing college band wasn't what I'd hoped, and championships in outdoor my freshman year. I thought we might have pulled off a Cinderella story and jumped up a few rankings...nope. (Then again, watching the video of that show, I see why we didn't score so high.)

Day 10 - Greatest Marching Achievement

Either finishing higher than last place in Mirage '08 in Open class with a line that was at least 60% noobs (including me), or making Chesapeake Percussion at all. Yeah it's a small line and only six people went out for bass, but man, these guys have CHOPS. I'm still trying to convince myself that I belong.

Day 11 - Favorite Marching Tradition

Maryland drumline: everyone gets a nickname. And of course there are others.

Day 12 - A Note To Your Director(s)

Dr. Sparks: Don't bother blowing smoke. You know there's a lot that could be done to improve this band. Make it happen.

Mr. Straka: You probably figured this out, but we disagree on almost everything when it comes to running a marching band. Here's to hoping Souderton keeps funding you guys long enough to give the band time to turn the corner and become elite.

Cameron: Your staff includes some of the craziest people I've ever met, but I've never been more excited to march a show in my life.

Day 13 - A Note To Your Section Leader

Winger: Thank God you told me about Peake...

Day 14 - Design Your Own Dream Show

This idea's been in my head for months. It'd probably work best as an indoor show.

Show name: Blade
Show concept: a look at the various uses and history of the sword.
Movement 1: Myth. Big fantasy-type music with someone in the line acting and discovering a sword of legend and fighting the forces of evil with it.
Movement 2: War. Really intense, fast-paced and dark music with a lot of violent body movements, lots of ensemble figures.
Movement 3: Honor. Ballad. Japanese-sounding, focus on the samurai's view that their sword housed their own soul. There might even be a fake hara-kiri in this, who knows? Ideally I wouldn't have the battery playing except maybe some bass drums on puffies.
Movement 4: Duel. The fastest movement of the bunch, and the lightest in mood. Two people would literally be having a swordfight on the floor, and the drill would move around them. And of course the fight would be in time with the music. At some point there may be a snare feature that ended with snare players stagefighting with their sticks...and then a big reprise of all four movements.

Not sure what the music would be, though. I might have a few bars of Sabre Dance in the duel movement just for kicks. "Clash on the Big Bridge" from the Final Fantasy XII score might make the cut for Duel, and maybe "Hold Fast Hope" by Thrice would work for War. "The Skeezix Dilemma Part 2" by Tourniquet might make an appearance too--the opening cello riff could work for part of Myth, and then it returns in double time at the end...just like the real song...

Day 15 - Your Statement To The World About Marching

Marching band, DCI, WGI. None of these are sports. They are something that is in my opinion far greater: an art. An art we can compete in. An art that offers the thrill of performing like no other. Any school that tries to deny its students the chance to march is being completely and utterly ridiculous. Everyone should have the opportunity to put on a challenging show and realize how fulfilling it is. I truly believe my time in marching band and drumline has made me a better person, and it can do the same to everyone.

Just don't call it a sport, okay?

a powerful moment

Well hello, all three of my readers.

Just thought I'd share this. Not sure why it hit me so hard.

I came home for my frustratingly short Thanksgiving break yesterday and spent the day with my old friends from church. Naturally, as there was a Thanksgiving service that night, we went to it. There happened to be a baptismal that day. I'd seen dozens of them before; I knew the drill: hear story about everything God had done, show appropriate shock at some of the more graphic stories, applaud after the baptism was over, repeat.

Last night was different. Baptisms always mean more when you know the person being baptized (duh). I knew only one girl of the dozen or so being baptized, and even so, only barely. She was a friend of my sister's a few years back (and, ironically, the sister of a friend), and I'd worked on the Arrowhead with her last year, only talking to her maybe once. But her story hit hard.

It wasn't one of the classic 'I was a junkie for twenty years before I found God'-type stories. It wasn't one of the cliche' 'I was raised in the church and I just want to let everyone know how much God means to me' either.

It was pretty simple. She was raised Catholic but was never satisfied by it. Her family stopped going to church, and she still felt empty. She started going to Calvary, got a Bible and read it, fell in love with Christ, and got baptized at Calvary with her family watching. Her testimony ended with a declaration of how sincere her love for Christ was and her hope that her family would find that same love.

This hit me hard. I can't say I can relate fully--I was brought up in the church and was introduced to Christ by my parents, and as far as I know they haven't given up yet. But I knew what it was like to live in a largely faithless environment. I go to a huge state university. Sincere Christians are few and far between, and I wondered how on Earth we were supposed to show Christ to other people when the very idea of one religion being any more "correct" than any others is repulsive. Heck, the idea of religion is repulsive to many that don't want to worry about anything more serious than finding a party for next Friday night. I guess I was feeling a little overwhelmed.

Yet this girl, a high school junior, showed me, a college freshman something powerful. Christ was still working. I can't imagine how awkward or weird it must have been to have one member of the family turn so wholeheartedly to Christ...or maybe it wasn't awkward for this girl at all. To have the kind of faith that pursues Christ so passionately...I kind of envy her.

I was so thankful that I came home in time to see her baptized, and for God's reminder that, as mewithoutYou puts it, 'there are places that aren't here.' There is more than this world, and this girl has her heart set on getting the best out of her life...and afterlife. What a breath of fresh air.

I applaud you, Maddie. Congratulations on taking this huge step.

Thank you, God, for letting me witness it.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

looking back

I'm always a sucker for 'what-if' scenarios. They run through my head all the time. I've spent years wondering what I could have done, knowing what I do now about the impact of my old choices.

Well, now, I find myself there again. I'd love to go back to those days April 23 and 25, 2010.

That day was the beginning of quite possibly the most emotionally taxing three months of my life. Those months did me a lot of good in the end. I'm glad I'm past them, and I'm glad for the lesson I learned.

But I wonder what could have happened if I had had just a bit better control. If I had said the right words. If, if, if.

Of course there's the constant possibility that it wouldn't have made a difference. But that's not as nearly as fun to ponder.

(In other news, TWO UPDATES IN TWO DAYS WHOA)

college. yeah.

Yes, I know I have another blog now. I'm still reserving this for my more artistic/philosophical/angsty posts. Because it seems one can always find a reason for angst. Or at least I can.

I hate uncertainty. Always have. I don't like things I can't predict. I hate thinking about the future--there's so much of it that I can't expect.

I know one thing for sure: I will not be content to spend 40 years working at a job I hate because the money's good. I want to find a job I love. I want to wake up morning not considering work an irritating chore to cross off the list, but something I love doing. There are a lot of things I love to do, and I want to spend my life doing one of those things.

The problem is, there are too many options. There isn't one defining thing that I love. I love to write. I love music. I love politics. The first two facts led me to pursue journalism, hoping to get a job writing for a music or even video game magazine. So I went to a school with a top-flight journalism program. Maryland has one of the best journalism schools in the world. But...it's all hard news here. I'm not sure how much I want to do that for a living. I have an internship with LiveMusicGuide.com where I write an album review and music news article per week. My employer thinks very highly of me. It's not a bad gig, really. But do I really want to be doing this all my life? (It might have something to do with the fact that I haven't reviewed any really great albums. But who knows? More uncertainty!) And do I have the strength to put up with all this hard news crap in the meantime?

So I've tossed around the ideas of changing majors (or adding one). Psychology and English keep coming up. Psych because I want to eradicate eating disorders, English because I love writing and reading and talking about books far too much. But it's crazy hard to get a job in English unless you're teaching, and I don't teach. And Psych...who knows if I'll like it?

That's the main question, isn't it? "Who knows if I'll like [any given career field]?" Right now, my plan is to keep the journalism major through my first semester of sophomore year. By that point, I'll have taken the notoriously brutal Journalism 201, in which journalism majors do work in quite literally every aspect of every field of journalism--print, broadcast, you name it. I feel like that class will show me whether I'm really cut out for this or not.

I was at a journalism career fair on Monday. An NPR worker named Corey Dade had a very inspiring speech. He said at one point, roughly, that if you're not REALLY into journalism, it's stupid to waste your time in the field. Well, I don't know how into it I am. But really, do I want to waste three semesters of college if I take JOUR201 and find out that I hate it?

Also, why do journalism majors get so much hate? No, it's not a math and science major. No, I'm not burdened by mounds of homework that has no practical relevance. But at least some acknowledgment that my major isn't a waste of time would be appreciated. I'm still not even sure what I'm doing in college. Forgive me for experimenting a bit.

Forgive me also for my ramblings...I'm sure this sounds incredibly petty and stupid. But if nothing else, I'm getting this off my chest.

why do I have to watch all this unfold again and again? why am I so helpless? why can't I do anything about it? why do I have to spend my life trying not to scream at the ridiculous injustice of it all? Crawl back to the hell that spawned you, ED, you demon.

The Altar: Character Profile: The Genius

Full Name: Unknown. Goes by varying titles, including "Master," "Omniscient One," "His Omniscience," "Overseer," or simply "Genius," among others.
Age: 483. After discovering the secret to biological immortality at the age of 40, he has not physically aged a year.
Birthday: September 3, 1976 (for the record, his birthday falling on this year was a happy coincidence)
Race: Caucasian, little else is known. Clearly European; most have assumed German blood.
Hair: Nearly bald--only a thin ring of white hair remains.
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 160 pounds. Little muscle.
He's rather pale. Suffers a bit from photophobia (sensitivity to light) and thus wears black, round sunglasses constantly. Rumors claim he may have albinism, but these have yet to be confirmed.

Occupation: Overseer of the Community of Elites, and Prophet of Xaheros to the Primitives. As Overseer, he has absolute dictatorial power over the Elites. Disobedience is extremely rare, but harsh measures are in place for those who do. The Elites generally revere him to the point of near-worship.
Relationship status: Single. However he is capable of bringing any female Elite to bed with him by way of decree. Most are quite happy to oblige.
Family: Reportedly none survived the War. His insane lackey, Amos, does not seem to be related to him. He does not discuss his family and is never asked about it.
Closest friends: The Genius prefers isolation. He is quite courteous to his Elites, especially given his position of absolute power, but he does not develop friendships with any of them.

Hobbies/interests: His thirst for knowledge is unmatched. Science is his true passion. His specialty is in biochemistry, but he is excellent in most other scientific fields. Rarely is he seen outside of his laboratory or scientific laboratory, except to check on the Community or to engage in his nightly *ahem* activities.

Why he blatantly lies to the Primitives about Xaheros is unknown. In fact, the motives behind most of his actions are unknown, except for his desire to increase the number of Elites.

we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming

What I've learned lately:

This world is full of pain. There isn't always an easy way out of the pain. Some pain might be impossible to escape or forget. Sometimes we can only distract ourselves from the pain.

Sometimes...those distractions are totally and utterly awesome, and totally worth it. It's distractions like these that get me through the pain, the real serious kind and the stupid teenager kind.

Thanks, distractions. Keep coming.

The Altar: Character Profile: Ralis

Full Name: Ralis Westen (RALL (as in rally)-iss WEST-en)
Age: 19
Birthday: July 11, 2440
Race: 40% white (English mostly), 40% Hispanic, 20% Native American
Hair: Jet-black, medium-length, relatively clean but unkempt.
Height: 6'
Weight: 183 pounds
His legs bear several scars of varying origins. No athletic training, but bears the prodigious natural athleticism of a hunter. Very dark skin--the Native American blood is abnormally prominent. Dark brown, very serious eyes. Natural facial expression appears thoughtful and somber, maybe a little angry. Smiles rarely; when he does, it brings calm on all those around him.

Occupation: hunter/gatherer for his village, found in central Pennsylvania.
Relationship status: Single. Has dated two girls.
Family: younger sister Sona (age 13), younger brother Amon (age 8). Mother: Rilia Smith Westen. Father died of radiation poisoning when Ralis was four.
Closest friends: Avon Thiron (AY-von THIR (th as in thick)-on) (male), age 19, fellow hunter-gatherer. Close friends since childhood.
Seraea Hyatha (ser-AY-uh hi-ATH-uh), age 18. Exceptionally beautiful, and Ralis's crush. (May be profiled later.)

Hobbies: Has a deep love of reading. Often plays simple sports with his friends.

Does not buy into the doctrine of Xaheros, but has no means to prove its falsehood. Hates the idea of ritual sacrifice. Longs to improve the wretched conditions of the Primitives and bring the world back to its antebellum state. Has a history of disrespecting authority; his back bears a few scars from whips for this reason.

The Altar: Character Profile: Joseph Zerra

This is my way of working on the novel.

Name: Joseph Nathaniel Zerra (pronounced ZEHR-a, rhymes with Sarah)
Age: 41
Birthday: October 11, 2418
Race: 90% white, 10% Hispanic
Hair: black, very thin, cut short, balding prematurely.
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 223 pounds, much of it lean muscle.
Wears notably round glasses, and often bears red marks on his face from lab goggles. Well-tanned skin. No known health conditions. Left-handed. Respectably athletic.

Occupation: Department of Primitive Studies, Head Field Scientist (observes Primitives and reports on their activities).
Relationship Status: Married. Wife's name: Andrea Alden Zerra. No children.
Family: No siblings. Father: Alexander Zerra. Mother: Rebecca Mollen Zerra.
Closest friends:

Hobbies: playing guitar (classically trained), listening to prewar electronica (Animal Collective, !!!, Passion Pit) and prog (The Mars Volta, Between the Buried and Me), attending meetings of the Elite Society of Thought (a philosophy group of sorts), playing lacrosse and basketball with fellow Elites.

He enjoys his work immensely and is fully devoted to the Elite cause of repopulating Earth with the best and brightest. However he cares more for the Primitives than many of his fellow Elites. He believes some of the Primitives have just as much potential as the Elites. However he is forced to keep these thoughts to himself to avoid the watchful eye of the Genius.

As he is a bit of a Renaissance man, he is fairly popular with the opposite sex; however has been faithful to his wife for all fourteen years of their marriage.

Another novel idea. Pun intended.

No seriously, I'm going to at least attempt to write this one. This isn't like my ridiculous 'write a novel that captures the teenage experience' idea, which I think I knew was over my head before I even finished the post explaining it.

This time my central theme is a bit simpler. I want to try and explore the feeling of helplessness, the horror of watching things unfold before one's eyes without any power to make things any better, no matter how much one wants to. Also, I have long found a strange, macabre beauty in the idea of human sacrifice--not as a punishment for prisoners, but in those that honestly think they are appeasing some higher power by having someone stab them or burn them. (This makes me sound really creepy. Sorry. I'm not a psycho, I swear.) So, why not combine the two ideas, you ask? And I answer: I did.

Here's the background behind where my would-be novel is heading. Names/dates subject to change.

---

It's 2459. During the years 2015-2017, there was the inevitable nuclear war that everyone had been fearing since the 50s. However there was another weapon that proved equally devastating--the EMP (electromagnetic pulse) bomb that had been secretly in development by several world powers. EMP bombs rendered useless all the electronic devices that had made modern life possible, in addition to most of the defenses against nuclear weapons. The United States was utterly devastated, as was Europe, Latin America, Asia, and most of South America. Northern Africa was hit hard by radiation, but most of the continent was able to prepare for the fallout thanks to a last-ditch United Nations effort to save at least a few humans. Eventually a few African terrorist groups came to the Americas in attempts to take over the continent but quickly realized that there was nothing valuable left anymore--only a few thousand people had survived, and they had resorted to primal tendencies, as food was short, and most of it was irradiated to dangerous levels.

In the year 2059, however, a strange individual began making appearances in regions of what was once the United States. He called himself simply the Genius. At his side was a strange, mentally unstable individual whom Genius named Amos. What happened during the Genius's appearances never changed. He stood silently in some high place, round sunglasses hiding his eyes, while Amos danced crazily and babbled frantically. Then he would walk to a water supply, pull out a Geiger counter that had somehow survived the war, and show that the water was unfit for human consumption. Then Amos would dance even more frantically, and the Genius would reveal a strange electronic instrument, touch it to the water, and then pull out a small glass from his backpack and drink the water. Then he would leave, leaving nothing behind but the Geiger counter.

As the Genius's appearances grew more frequent, some began to decipher the Prophet's babbling. They realized that he always said the same things--and every time, he seemed to be calling on the name of a deity. When enough people realized this, the Genius spoke for the first time to a crowd of many survivors. He said that the war was punishment from an angry god named Xaheros and began to preach the doctrine of this new god. In the wake of such destruction and agony all remnants of traditional religion had been lost--the few who held to their faith had been slaughtered by angry survivors. So a Aztec-like bloodthirsty, sacrifice-dependent god seemed totally reasonable to these desperate villagers. The Genius preached that Xaheros would continue to bring pain and misery on the survivors until he had been satisfied with virgin sacrifices. And immediately the survivors began a regular schedule of sacrificing young girls--most by fire.

The Genius, of course, knew every word he spoke was a lie. The Genius was, as his name implied, the possessor of an incredible scientific mind. During the war, he had secretly discovered the secret to biological immortality and a way to completely remove radioactive material from any substance, but seeing the brutality and violence around him, he deemed the world unfit to share in his discoveries--except for sixty of his similarly brilliant, like-minded companions. As the decades passed, his community grew, all sharing in his immortality and radioactive immunity. He gave them a new name--the Elites. Those who were not Elites were Primitives. The Elites had another gift as well--technology. The Genius knew the infrastructure of most common electronics, and he and his fellow Elites worked to slowly restore the world to its prewar condition. However, the Genius's love of science ensured that he could not leave the Primitives to themselves. They were not fit to share in his glory, certainly, but they must be observed--much could be learned from their activities.

By 2459, the Genius's community has expanded to about one thousand, all descendants of the original sixty.

Into this world are introduced the two protagonists. One is an Elite--Joseph Zerra, a third-generation Elite. He is sent to observe a Primitive village in eastern Pennsylvania. (No, I'm not bashing my hometown.) He is under orders to have absolutely no interaction with the Primitives--if he does, he will die.

The other protagonist is a boy of nineteen years of age named (either Ralis or Avron or something else, haven't decided yet). He has seen the pain of living in the postwar world, and he is extremely skeptical of the doctrine of Xaheros. Yet there is nothing for him to do--he will be executed as a heretic if he preaches against this god, and he's far from capable of leading any sort of rebellion.

And this, you loyal readers who've actually read this whole gargantuan post, is the setting for what I hope to make into a novel over some indeterminate amount of time. Tentative title--The Altar. More details will come with time, followed by (hopefully) the story itself, in bits and pieces.

more religious musings

Taken from John Steinbeck's East of Eden:

"Liza spoke sharply: "What my mother would mind is what I mind, and I'll tell you what I mind. You're never satisfied to let the Testament alone. You're forever picking at it and questioning it. You turn it over the way a 'coon turns over a wet rock, and it angers me."
"I'm just trying to understand it, Mother."
"What is there to understand? Just read it. There it is in black and white. Who wants you to understand it? If the Lord God wanted you to understand it, He'd have given you to understand or He'd have set it down different.""

Before I tear Liza apart, I must commend her on one thing: I would love to have that kind of absolute, unshakable faith in the Bible and in God Himself. Doubt sucks, especially when you hate uncertainties.

But unfortunately, I can't leave it at that. Steinbeck has just pinpointed what I find to be one of modern Christianity's greatest flaws. Why wouldn't you mull over the Scriptures, trying to understand them? It's divine truth written down in words--who said it would be easy to understand? There has to be a lot of thought that goes into processing it; otherwise Christianity would be a worthless checklist and the Bible would be little more than a textbook.

Christians, don't be afraid to think. Deep thought doesn't lead you away from God unless you choose it to. Scripture's true beauty often comes after you dig deep into its context and struggle with the contradictions until they are resolved. Why only read the surface of the Bible when so much more awaits you?

That's all I've got for now.

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Now playing: !!! - Yadnus

the stereotypical graduation post

I didn't want this blog to turn into something like my old Xanga, but I think high school graduation merits some reflection.

Well, all of you that were at Souderton's graduation, I think we can all say...wow, what a trip. I'll recount my educational experience the best I can.

Elementary school: Ugh. I was loud, tactless, sheltered, brainy and arrogant. Terrible combination, which is probably why I had no friends. Let's not discuss those five years.

Middle school: Terrible. Still no friends, but now I didn't know anybody, either. By the end of seventh grade, things started to look up, and I met someone who would change my life forever.

Eighth grade: A year of great angst and great changes. I found Honors classes and finally began to accept myself for who I was, no longer deluded by dreams of being athletic (oh, that's so funny now!) I was a nerd and proud of it. I thrived under the increased challenge of my course load and loved many of the people teaching me. I started taking private lessons under Mr. Kline, who worked miracles in me as a player. However, I was ill-equipped to deal with my newfound emotional capacity. Yes, I had finally fallen head over heels for a girl, and that girl was not there for the taking, and I had no idea of what to do. So I was basically a big ol' pile of angst.

Ninth grade: Even more changes. Now it was time for marching band, where my pent-up intensity and focus were finally given an outlet, and I started to meet some of my best friends. And then in February, after a fresh batch of angst, I turned things around and began my first relationship...which was a resounding success early on.

Tenth grade: Now school gets serious. Honors Chem posed quite a challenge, but I survived and made the fateful decision of signing up for AP Chem. Cracks started appearing in the relationship, but I met another girl who would end up changing my life, though in an entirely different way. (How'd I meet her? I literally knew nobody in my lunch except Zac. I sat next to him and started talking to the girl across from me...the rest is history.) Marching band turned sour with a new director, but I found Mirage instead, and I loved it, never thinking I'd give it up. That summer, I went to Harvey Cedars and almost immediately became best friends with Carter, someone who seemed to be my slightly more energetic, more fashionable twin.

Eleventh grade: Oh boy. AP Chem started to affect every aspect of my life...how stupid is that?! The relationship briefly fell apart, and was forced back together by force of will. I spent almost all of my time at home doing Chem homework. I was forced to give up drumline just to stay sane. Jazz band did its best to substitute, but we never reached our potential. (Though it was a laugh riot all the way.) I started to deal with the incoming hugeness of college and not knowing what I wanted to do with my life. The relationship ended right after school. College visits took over my summer. One school happened to stand out...the University of Maryland. It was never topped.

Twelfth grade: Summer was...eventful. Crisis struck, and I struggled to deal with something that was way over my head. But when school started, I was...enjoying myself. I was free. I was a big bad senior. I knew the ropes. The school was new. Seniors had a whole new freshman class of underlings. I tried not to kill one of them for an entire marching band season, one that culminated with my best performance (and probably the band's) in years. I got into UM with a scholarship. I had my bits of angst, but they were minor. And by mid-February, I decided to try that relationship thing again, and for a little while, it was glorious. Everything seemed to suggest that it'd be a long, healthy, enjoyable relationship...

Then everything fell apart. Within a week, I discovered that three of the people closest to me had eating disorders--and one, as her blog will tell you, was in my family. One easily could have died, and another wasn't far behind. Two of them were put in a clinic to get over it--one for a month, one for six weeks. I was surrounded by misery, frustration and pain. I would frequently come home to see my parents talking and my mom in tears. I was utterly helpless, and I couldn't stand it.

On top of this, what should have been Mirage's best season ever ended with a baffling disappointment, relationship #2 ended (and I've been struggling with it ever since), and overall, I couldn't enjoy myself. I felt like I was throwing myself into distractions because I couldn't face reality without feeling pain. (True.) And you know what? It's still not over.

So...graduation. It's a great thing. I'm free, and I know it. I wish it wasn't tempered by all the tragedies of my senior year. But now that I've gotten the negatives out of the way, let's look at the positives.

I am so much happier with the person I've become than with the person I was. I'm starting to get a handle on things. I know myself a little bit better. I'm learning what I value and that it doesn't have to be the same as what anyone else's values (Politics.). But it can if I want to. (Religion).)

I've had some of the best teachers a guy could ask for. Spizz. Lozano. Tucker. McLaughlin. Gallagher. Ruth. Without those teachers (and more), there's no way I'd ever be where I am now.

I have some of the best friends I could ever ask for. Seriously. You put up with all my crap and still manage to make life fun for me. Wow. I can tell you guys everything, and you've helped me through this big old mess that was the last few months.

If the old proverb and Kanye are true, that that (if you're Kanye, add two more "that"s) don't kill me can only make me stronger, which means I should be a whole lot stronger when this is over.

I have so much to be thankful for, really. I shouldn't be so down all the time.

Those of you still at Souderton, learn from my mistakes. Don't let the world get you down. Persevere through the tragedy. Do what you can do to fix your problems and leave the rest up to God (or whatever deity you prefer, or whatever absence of deity you prefer). Strive for excellence--not just in academics but in life, in everything you do.

And stand for something. (If I had been valedictorian/salutatorian, I would have centered my speech on this idea. Though, as it stands, Joey's speech ruled.) Stand up. Do not be moved unless we're taking a route that we have not pursued.

And remember this, the chorus I based my entire college application essay on.

"With downcast eyes, there's more to living than being alive."

And then remember this.

"And we'll all float on okay, and we'll all float on alright."

And finally, remember this.

"Don't stop believin'."

Frustrating

A lot of Facebook surveys ask me what my pet peeve is. I have several, and some that transcend pet status into...what's above a pet peeve? A superpet? A pet irritation? Whatever.

--Stupidity. This is always my answer when people ask what my pet peeve is, and it needs clarification.
1. Outright ignorance. Rarely does this tick me off, because usually it's funny.
2. Stupidity that results from laziness. This is much more common, and one of the main reasons Digital Media is not my favorite class. (One of the other main reasons is Flash.)
3. People that think their coolness is directly proportional to their bad senses of humor (SEXUAL INNUENDOS ARE NOT ALWAYS FUNNY) or their downright obnoxiousness.
4. Ignorance that leads to stereotyping. This is mostly political. No, "liberal" is not synonymous with "godless," "socialist," "baby-killing," or "pansy." (Also, "socialist" is not synonymous with "evil"). Also, "Christian" is not synonymous with "idiotic" (though Christians have given people very many reasons to believe that this is not the case).

--Segregation by intelligence. Does anyone else find it weird that people refer to groups as "smart people" and "not smart people"? I don't really think I'm more intelligent than most people, and it's not hard to make the jump from "not smart" to "smart."

--Arguments that don't rely on anything like logic. If you ever say "yeah, but socialism is evil!" to me, I believe I've won the argument.

--Bad music that gets popular. I'm looking at you, CCM and mainstream pop.

--Musical stereotyping. Before you cry "hypocrite," let me say this: not ALL mainstream pop is bad, but many artists in that genre are. People think all rap is bad...those people don't know the Flobots or Immortal Technique. People think Christian metal shouldn't exist...they don't know Living Sacrifice or Becoming the Archetype. People think secular music is pure evil...they don't know Passenger or Sonata Arctica, to name two of millions.

--Watching a situation spiral out of control, and being forced to accept that I can do nothing to intervene.

--When things make total rational sense, but something irrational makes it painful, and the rational part doesn't console me.

--My own frustration. The fact that I'm upset sometimes frustrates me as much as or more than the thing that upset me originally. This is a vicious cycle.

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Now playing: Showbread - Stabbing Art to Death