A Brief Discourse on Characteristics

So, I've spoken a bit about UVa before, and I'll continue the trend in just a bit, but for this moment, I feel a need to explain a type of behavior used by politicians and administrators. More than explain what it is, I want to discuss why it's bothersome, annoying, and insulting. Have you ever met or seen someone that when you ask them a question they repeat your question but turn it into a spring board for what they really want to talk about, completely ignoring what you asked? I have. If you haven't, watch a presidential debate for two minutes. That's all you need. When admin does it, I get very upset, especially when they end up turning so hard and trying to sell their point so much that they're borderline lying as they turn everything into lovely flowers rather than facts. I've noticed that when you lie to people, they are a lot more upset than if you just upfront tell them the truth. That way, there's no misconception; everyone knows the plan from the start.

*sigh* So True....

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

What more could be said that wouldn't exacerbate the failure of language any further?

The Annoyances Continue

Okay, I don't want to sound bitchy, but having gone around reading a bit, I'm disturbed by another trend I've seen: font abuse. Said abuse can include color and text size, often in illogical places. Please: it's distracting to try to read a roller coaster of letters allegedly grouped into a word, esp. when you've highlighted an idiotic part of the sentence. It comes off as would stripper dust: a cheap way to try to shine and catch attention while actually doing nothing positive at all.

Annoying

Okay, I understand that not everyone is born to write. I get that, I swear. I just wish some articles could steer clear of overt violations of what heretofore will be defined as things that annoy the shit out of me.

1. Gratuitous Exclamation Marks

I hate to break it to you: if your article is boring, exclamation marks will not jazz it up or excite your audience; instead, such usage only serves to remind your readers of how pathetic your writing is. It looks two years old, so grow up and use periods, colons, semicolons, or maybe--just maybe--keep it to under 6 marks in a row. And also, proof read those 1's out of your article unless it's for comedic effect.

2. "Cutesy" Language to Help Relate Your Article to the Audience

I don't want to hear about a saucy "make out sesh" you had at some party. If you'd like to discuss an interesting encounter at a particular location, fine, but do not attempt to relate to me via vernacular because a) it alienates readers who attribute whatever slang you used to something negative b) it usually calls on the wrong words, and if it doesn't, it certainly dates your article, completely losing any chance of being timeless c) it makes you look like an idiot.

3. Bad Grammar/ Factually Incorrect Information/ Being an Idiot

Alright, I'm not going to bust out the MLA here. Just use complete sentences, close spelling, and at least make an effort to demonstrate a difference between written word and a dictation of one of your drunken rambles from last Saturday night.

YAY!

Typical prospective students and families want small tour groups. The Admissions Office also wants the tour size small. We tour guides don't. Nope, not at all. When the groups are tiny, no one wants to ask questions, no one laughs at the corny jokes, no one engages. Big groups are almost guaranteed one giggler who will be the first to laugh and let others feel comfortable laughing, at least four middle aged moms willing to ask about dorms, drugs, and alcohol, and a charming little kid who has the power to make or break your will to live. Large tour groups also cause people to edge closer, to lean in closer. I guess it's the competitive edge we all have. We don't want to get pushed to the back, and so we dig in to nudge other people out.

That's why I was sad to hear there were only 4 people on the tour today.

BUT IT WAS AWESOME!

This family was perfect: mom and papa with prospective son and younger brother. All asked questions, all were very friendly and engaged. I loved them. I even did a special tour taking them to the buildings I thought they'd enjoy seeing. The informality was nice, and as I'm loquacious and love bullshitting, everyone chatted it up as we crossed McCormick and made a star on Grounds.

10 Cool Points

This is the most awesome-est mission statement I've ever seen. Good job, Calvary Baptist Academy!!! I approve thoroughly! Oh, and the number of Christian academies in WV terrifies me.

Just a side note.

http://www.calvarybaptistacademy.org/mission.htm

Inconsistency

Now typically, I am the type to prefer structure to disarrayed anarchy. I like having an orderly schedule with me being able to predict most of what's going to happen. It sounds boring, but it makes spontaneity much more freeing and fun. 

But what does that matter? It matters when people are wishy washy, are one facade after another. Just pick one. If you're consistently a jackass, whatever. House finds it appealing, and maybe you will, too. If you're a vegetarian, don't eat fish; it's cheating. I hate whenever people pull this shit, and I really dislike when faceless groups do because we all know it's easier to get upset at an idea than any individual. I dunno; maybe it's a shred of human compassion that we all allegedly have that prevents us from complete and utter apathy, total cultural cannibalism, and electing Rudy Giuliani as president. 

But onto the bullshit!

Facebook & Employers

Alright, if they can't read our mail or ask us to list where we go after 5pm each day or what movies you rent at Blockbuster or any other insanely personal things, why should they even consider Facebook or Myspace? Yes, I get it. If Sally B. Dumbass chooses to post pictures of herself drunk on the internet, clearly she doesn't care who sees them, and I suppose the issue is intent. If you're simply moving Facebook to Facebook scanning about, I really don't care what you stumble upon. If you own a business or are an employer and choose to let someone's recreational (and here I add legal) activities or pictures or statuses affect your decision, I think that's wrong. Recommendations are one thing, but this is another. Jokes I would tell my friends are not what I'd say at my job; shocking as it is, I do know how to exercise discretion, and so while I can post edgy things, I won't say them at work. To be sure, this is a small annoyance compared to...

UVa's Drinking & Streaking policies vs. Steam tunneling

Okay. On tours, UVa acknowledges that drinking and streaking happen and then lists all the safety precautions concerning alcohol (safe ride, Hoos Sober, RA training, etc). Also, they laugh off streaking as a cute tradition at UVa that kids just do. Conversely,  steam tunneling is not acknowledged nor condoned. It is seen as flagrant trespassing and extremely dangerous (*gasp* what if they get lost!). 

The Breakdown?

Drinking can lead to alcohol poisoning, is illegal, and can result in personal injury. Streaking is typically not done sober, but even if it were done sober, it is illegal and can result in personal injury. Steam tunneling is done both dry and drunk, is illegal, and can result in personal injury. I'm seeing some striking similarities, so why the fuck are treated so radically different? Well, here's as far as I've surmised: because kids will be kids and drink, because it's tradition, because it's something people are familiar with and therefore are comfortable with and accept. Streaking? Well, streaking really isn't hurting anyone; they're just running a few paces and then coming back. Also, streaking is also something people are familiar with and therefore don't fear. Steam tunneling sounds scary, dirty, dark, and extremely dangerous. It's not as well spread as drinking or streaking, and so there are several misconceptions. 

In my humble opinion, drinking is worse than urban exploration (steam tunneling falls cleanly into this category). Drunks are known for getting into fights, for vandalizing property, for hurting themselves. A true urban explorer leaves no trace he was there: they don't break property or even litter. They simply are there to appreciate the wonders modern architecture has lent to those willing to follow adventure and wherever curiosity may take them. Oh, and fun fact: urban exploration isn't tied to date rape--something rather infamously married to alcohol.

PS- It's rather hard to get lost in UVa's linear steam tunnels as a few kind souls have spray painted directions on the walls down there. If you're going to do anything, be smart and research before absolutely diving in head first, and have common sense. Please. The last thing the urban exploration community wants is a dumb ass breaking his leg because he didn't bring a flashlight and was slaying from a few too many rounds of beer pong and frat juice.

Stupidity Test

There are a variety of types of laws, but I personally use two general categories: practical and illogical. The latter, I admit, I have difficulty respecting. At UVa (and probably the larger world) if you are breaking a rule, you may or may not be punished. Factoring into the decision are two overwhelming questions: were you endangering yourself or others and are you an idiot. As long as both are no, then you have a fairly good chance of getting away with whatever you're doing. It's why they don't get bent out of shape over streaking the Lawn or steam tunneling. If you're not dangerous or destructive, carry on; however, if you cross one or the other line, you've just screwed up. 

Timing has a lot to do with making an action stupid, and therefore, unacceptable. Example? Streaking the Lawn at 2am: whatever. Streaking at 2pm: you're most likely going to have a chat with an officer (unless there's been some good planning and decent luck). Here's a gem from this morning: I'm sitting in my car waiting at a red light, but because of the train track positioning, there's a fair amount of empty room ahead (some influential part of me likes giving trains space. I don't know why.). Well directly behind me is a State Trooper and behind her is a red van heretofore dubbed Crazy Soccer Mom. Well, my line is full back to the edge of the train tracks, but she apparently wanted to be in the turning lane, which was empty. And so this middle aged woman saw nothing wrong with crossing the double yellow lines, passing two cars (a state trooper being one of them, you moron), and then turning on her merry way once she was done playing Britain and returned to her side of the road. I watch her pass me with my mouth a gape and then laugh as the blue lights flashed on. I hope state troopers have a sense of humor, but I'm guessing not. You can't work with idiots like that all day and be happy about it; it's just depressing.

Professors, Quizzes, and Textbooks

I must say, having a heavily curved class does nothing to foster love for humanity. Actually, it encourages me to wish disaster and calamity on others so that the bar falls low enough to trip over it and land mostly unscathed. Never before has a 45 been acceptable in my life, but as I've learned, a 45 is awesome when the class average is hovering around a 40. For those unfamiliar, that circumstance would probably earn the grade of a B. It's an interesting system, and it's the reason engineers have a GPA but still. 

But onto other more specific situations in which I will weakly attempt to shroud details and protect identities. One of my science classes has an interesting testing procedure. As I've already said, it's curved but not as one might expect. It's completely curved. You're ranked 1-400 ish and the top 20% get A's, next 30% get B's, and so on. There are 15 multiple choice questions, which is a generous term. Personally, I don't call things with the option "answer not here" as multiple choice. The difference between that kind of multiple choice and short answer is the time it takes to grade each. And the cover sheet makes me laugh every time. It states:

You have 50 minutes to complete 15 questions. Each correct answer is worth 5 points. Wrong answers earn 0 points.

Well, I realize I'm probably the crazy one, but that originally sounded to me like wrong answers can't hurt you. I realized within two seconds, however, that this group just enjoys being convoluted. Why think of tests as starting at 100 and then lowering in grade as the student misses questions? No! That's no good at all. Everyone begins at nil and earns his/her way up to greatness. 

Okay, fine, in general I like the idea of this, but dammit it all equates to the same thing, so why the hell are we arguing? It's amusing because it overtly puts the onus on students for low grades without actually being any different than any other grading system. It's just like how all US History books put the raping of South America in the passive tense as if leaving out the subject (aka, us) makes any difference to what happened or the fact that we did it. Actually, textbook PC makes me die a little inside every time I see it. For example, American Pageant, you are quite wrong in refusing to use the word "slavery." Your reasoning? It has a negative connotation. No shit it has a negative connotation; it's supposed to! Calling slavery "coercive labor" is akin to referring to Jewish ghettos in the 30's and 40's as "restricted community development programs." Teenagers are forced to do chores; that's coercive labor. Slavery was not that, and trying to dress up, obscure, or rename it does nothing but perpetuate lies and misunderstanding. 

Finals

In a word, the title explains the reason why there has not been a recent posting.

Mass and Service

I've been to a hand full of churches over the years: crazy conservative Baptist, nondenominational, Lutheran, and a couple others that I'm not really so sure what they are. Christian, but that's about it. That's why I was mildly excited about going to a Catholic service because it'd be a learning experience.

Rule 1: It's mass, dammit.

Sorry, I went to my first Catholic mass.

I enjoy watching Dane Cook's stand up, but now I get a lot more of the jokes. And a lot more Catholic mass jokes. I had once heard that the DMV moves considerably quicker than mass, and that's entirely possible. Fortunately, there's a random snack break in mass, but they're allowed to discriminate, and I just fell shy of the parameters. Damn. Wafer-O-Christ sounded interesting. I wonder if it's honey flavored....

But back to Mass and new things I encountered:

1. The priests really do sing. That was cool.
   
2. There is a crap load (for you metric people, that's a shit ton) of dance moves and vocal responses. I must've missed every single one because people stood up, sat down, knelt, bowed their heads, made obscene hand gestures, and wished for peace on Earth before I'd figured out we'd moved on from snack time.
   
3. The priests are hilarious--I'm not sure if I'm allowed to say that, but they are. Apparently, there's the splash from God, where the priest and Co. grab buckets of water and spray people with it. They had these dipping rods and flicked water with them. The first few swings were the best because the priests hadn't quite gotten down how much of a flick was necessary, and so this one guy got absolutely drenched in a very nice looking suit. Personally, I think blessed water guns would be far more efficient and a hell of a lot cooler. How badass would it be for the priest to have a SuperSoaker water gun at mass?
   
4. Dress. Dress was an interesting. Why would you dress in a very nice outfit to kneel on the ground? But that's just crazy me again talking....
   
5. Babies. Why the hell are you bringing babies to mass? Can't you hire a babysitter? I understand you want to brai--I mean indoctrinate them young, but for my ears' sakes, can't you wait until they're old enough not to scream during the ENTIRE service? If I were responsible for concert ticket sales for the wind ensemble, I'd make student tickets $5 Arts Dollars, community members/ parents $4, and tickets for children under five $67 dollars...in quarters.... Canadian quarters minted between the years 1976-82. With this system, you could bring kids, but you'd have to really want those demonic bastards for them to have a seat. haha! Take that screaming children.
   
6. Smiling. Apparently in church, you don't smile. Being a non-Christian, I'm a very happy person and so was beaming... until some stern, austere woman glared at me as if I were being riotous (I wasn't). Oh, and speaking of appearances, I'm about to make some very broad observations. If you think I'm wrong, I don't care: the people who look the most involved are the men. They bow and nod and amen after every other word. The majority of women look pissed, possibly owing to the fact that they're trying to wrangle six kids--you know it's true; don't lie. Now the childless women were into it pretty deep, but have kid, will spend more time smothering junior so he doesn't scream while the priest is singing a verse or two.
   
7. Assault--yes, I said assault. If there was a cue, I missed it. All I knew was that the entire church rose and simultaneously began trying to shake my hand. Personally, I found it unwelcome and unsanitary. I don't want to shake their hands, and I don't care how dickish I sound. For all I know, that hand could've been anywhere, and now they want to shake my hand? HELL NO.
   

And so that I leave on a semi-positive note, the music was amazing. I love sacred music, even if I disagree with every word they sing in gorgeous tones and melodic chord progressions.

Senility or Wisdom?

I absolutely love this quote, and I'm pissed I can't remember who said it, but whatever:

"When I was fifteen, I couldn't believe how stupid my dad was. By the time I was twenty-five, I couldn't believe how much he had learned."

So, while older people eventually lose their grip on sense and sensibility, they just might have an inkling as to a few good ideas. Maybe. Also, when so many have a similar thought, the chance of the idea being good increases just a little.

But anyway, moving on from that crazy idea and onto another: changing the damn Honor Code. Yes, I'm extremely proud that it's been student run for years. Many have said to me that the system will never change, that things this profound never do. One, that's a classic fallacy. Two, I could name countless examples to counter, but I'll only employ a few here:

 The University was President-less for nearly 100 years. The students took great pride in this fact about how wonderfully different they were and that they didn't want to change and be as boring as everyone else by actually having experienced adults handle the paperwork. I'm not sure when the epiphany hit, but clearly it must have, and so far the University has had seven Presidents. 

The strong tradition at this school is both a blessing and a curse. In one hand, the richness and depth is beautiful; in the other, it's crippling. People would dying cling to the sinking ship of sameness than dare to seek difference and change. Change is not always bad. True, of late both UVa and the world have confused motion with progress, but let's not all fall into cynicism and sarcasm. UVa will not die from losing single sanction anymore than it did from gaining a president. 

Now I return to the beginning point: are all older people mad lunatics out to undercut us, the damn frustrating, never understanding us bastards? Ummm, I'm thinking largely no. Actually, pretty much the only time the answer isn't no is when Murphy's Law bites, and a good intentioned plan falls terribly to Hell. I'm a loquacious type and so have often taken advantage of office hours as bullshit time. Honestly, no one wants to work anyways, so office hours often dissolve into chats about anything that allows for procrastination. The Honor Council has come up many a time, and every professor has without fail bashed it mercilessly. They would rather have cheating in their class than deal with the utter nonsense of a couple of drunk frat boys playing lawyer for a group of often bored, obnoxious jurors. Fair enough, not every Honor member is a fraternity/ sorority member, but the last thing I want to see is someone puking their brains out on Saturday and then trying someone else for an Honor offense on Monday. How about you explain this: why is having a fake I.D. a trivial offense, but lying about a 1 credit paper not? Either they both are, or they're both not. The former, I'll remind you, is a federal offense that (I forget the exact percentage, but it was over 50%) of UVa admits to having a fake I.D. They drink alcohol on the weekend, underaged, breaking federal laws and then go to trial and see themselves fit to judge other people. Please, the hypocrisy is killing me. I do not want someone hopped up on hormones deciding whether or not another person stays at the University. 

Why are so many professors against this system? Well, a lot of it is that it's run by hypocrites. Another is that professors are given the run around. Even if they have a reasonable case, their case might be dismissed because the professor is unpopular, the kids are popular, or the case going through would look terrible on the University. If that wasn't enough, think about this: the point of college is to learn and to grow. Yes, everyone who comes here agrees not to lie, steal, cheat, etc. You as a student have very few absolute rules which you're asked not to break. But what if you (gasp!) aren't perfect, if you slip up. Should you lose everything here because of one bad call? Some would say yes. I try to shy from the "all heads roll" principle of the French Revolution and opt for a more mild approach. Make it two strikes normal with the option of single sanction maybe on call for a particularly heinous crime. Ha, this is starting to sound like a death penalty debate.

Many people have said that with the removal of single sanction, the amount of cheating will increase. I highly doubt that. The amount of reported cheating will increase, but people who aren't going to cheat anyways won't change into horrible monsters that cheat on every paper and lie at every chance, and people intending to cheat clearly aren't deterred by it, judging from the fact that the Court seems to process 1-3 cases a week. Others have said that the increased workload will grind the Court to a halt. Well basing solely on the time tables of how long it took to expel Jason Smith, the Court moves at a pace similar of the UN, and (to borrow a crude phrase of a friend) that's roughly the speed of a retarded snail. 

On Make Up and General Female Dress

I do not pretend to have any inclination to feminine dress, make-up, or general appearance. On the whole, things stereotypically female are largely impractical and require tedious prep work: two things I can hardly tolerate. Where's the sense in waking up two hours early to do make-up or hair? Why would anyone not masochistic wear high heels? 

Yesterday, I decided to do a tally in my mind. I'd go from class to class counting the number of women with and without make-up and establish a rough ratio. Sadly, I was unable to do this because every woman I saw had makeup. Not joking. I wish I were. Every girl in my Italian class, every girl I saw in my chem and bio lecture. 

Well, when the ratio reached 1:50, I stopped counted and began thinking. Either everyone else has figured something out that I've missed, or I've missed a mini social plague. Who knows? 

Here's what I've been told: women who care about themselves wear make-up. Women who want to show dedication and status and education dress well. Women who want to be taken seriously, who want to look proper, who want male attention--it all comes back to makeup and dressing. 

Well, damn. That sounds a lot like the moral of the story is you get through life successfully on looks, that what you feel and who you are come second to phenotype and physicality. To an extent, I understand looking cleaned up for a job, but going to a Friday class in prom attire is going overboard. And for what it's worth, here's a funny correlation I've noticed: women who mask themselves in layer upon layer of make-up and wear beautiful and ornate clothing are building decorative facades to distract from the truth: they're not comfortable in their own skin. They can't bear to go through the day without a shield or crutch. I can't say that I'm sorry, but I almost wish I understood the logic behind "Oh, you know you're my friend because you've seen me without make-up?" Really? Is that your measuring stick? I get there's a possible metaphor about unmasking and being you around your true friends, but does wearing make-up change you that much? Who gives a damn what other people think about you? Honestly, no one cares if you show up to class in sweat pants with ridiculous socks, a green and yellow striped stocking hat, and bright purple flip flops with rhinestones. I realize that some people think that the entire world is staring at them 24-7. I hate to break it to you, but you're not that special. People are so introspective and wrapped up in themselves that they really can't be bothered to look and take notice of you, and if they somehow do, I assure you, it doesn't matter because they don't matter. No one cares if you mismatch your shoes or wear your shirt backwards. Do things because you like them, not because you need to fit a mold or gain the approval of some social clique. It sounds cliche, but it's true and also unfortunate that some people don't live by it.

 And frankly, some of these women look ready for Cats, not work. A few days ago I went to the gym and saw at least four women in pearls, not to mention another half dozen in make-up. Really? Really? You opt to go to the gym in make-up? Perhaps I've missed a lesson here, have a deficient education, but I thought make-up, jewelry, dresses--all that nonsense--was for special occasions, and that the gym didn't qualify. And really, how good can anyone look when they look like they've applied make-up with a trowel? Seriously, less is more. I promise.

I'm not saying that low self-esteem causes women to wear make-up or dress nicely. I'm just saying the connections are interesting.

Honor

Ugh, if one more person comes up to me spouting how loved the Honor System is here, I think I'm going to unleash a verbal deluge on their ignorant... selves. The die hard supporters love to talk about single sanction, the court system, and how long this beloved system has lasted untouched. Okay, let's start shoveling away a lot of semantically misleading nonsense.

First off, single sanction works about as well as the penal code of Revolutionary France did. They have proven--again and again--that the more severe the penalties for crimes, the more likely people are to commit crimes of higher ranking. Think about it: if you got punished the same for stealing gum and stealing a car and you were going to steal something (I have to throw this bit in there for the people who would opt for nothing), would you go for the Big Red or the Jeep? Better yet, if criminals got the same punishment for murder that they got for robbery, how many victims do you think would make it to court? I'm thinking not so many. Now, I'm not saying that cheating on a test is murder, but it's damn close socially. If found guilty, you're out of the University irrevocably. Who wants to do that to someone? I've seen over a dozen people cheating, and I can't bring myself to turning them in. Yes, the University basically has one rule, and they're breaking it, but dammit: I'd turn them in if I knew what they'd get was a zero in the course. Or a semester suspension. C'mon; this system doesn't work. Who wants to be responsible for someone's expulsion? Only a nazi like that one who turned in the 4th year over a simple paper would opt for a trial over a rules revision. 

Onto the court system, or as I call it, the Kangaroo Court. Why? There are zero checks and balances, and I've met the students here. Sure, the majority are great, but what if you get a rotten pick? Swallow your pride, and let the professors onto the jury, too. God, I hate it whenever people here flip out about letting older, wiser, more experienced people help out and call it a destruction and decay of student leadership. Happens so often with the Cavalier Marching Band. What people fail to see is that the CMB is more orderly, has over 50 student leaders, and is all around for better than the drunken, insulting Pep Band who got themselves banned from several stadiums. Good job, team! 

But seriously, I've seen over a half dozen articles about trial misbehavior: jurors falling asleep or acting uncouth. Then, to make it worse, the Honor Committee refuses to release information on it. Yeah, that's transparent. 

Finally, how about those peppy saps singing about how the students always favor not changing the system. Well, let me break it to you bluntly, it ain't because the system works; it's because the proposals are radical and unreasonable. It's a set up, basically. Would you vote yes for a Constitutional amendment that sought the death penalty for any crime or would you opt to stay with our current Constitution despite it obviously needing revision? You'd keep your ass out of crazyville is what you'd do, but then someone's going to take that vote data and say, "WOW! 92% of our citizens voted to keep the current Constitution. They must love it SO MUCH!!!" Yeah, no. It needs changed. Get rid of single sanction, add intermediate penalties, and keep the triviality clause. It's not that hard, people. It doesn't need a complete overhaul. Fix one issue at a time, and right now, just cut out single sanction and replace it with maybe a two or three step system: first time you get a zero in the course, second time you get a suspension, third time you're out. Or skip step 2 and proceed to 3. I don't care; just don't expel over a one page reflection paper. That's asinine and leaves a bitter taste on everyone's palate. 

And don't talk to me about ubiquitous honor until some flake returns my laundry basket, god dammit.

Teddy

For those of you who have never seen Billy Cosby's Himself, I cannot more highly recommend it. His commentary on family dynamics are particularly amusing. In one story, he reminisces about a 20 hour plane ride on which a four year Jeffrey runs amuck. You know the type of kid: running, crying, screaming, whining, poking, plain ass annoying.

So I'm in the band (yes, yes, get your cracks in; everyone else does). Lacrosse is usually one of the best sports to play at lengthwise. The games last around an hour fifteen, hour thirty-ish. The fans and the band are not separated--a decision worse for them than us. We go deaf anyway. Now the fans get to join us. That's how I thought the relationship worked. We annoy them, not the other way around.

Being a woodwind, I had the distinct privilege of sitting in the uppermost corner of the band, meaning I get direct contact with the fans. I have my misanthropic days, but for the most part, I can handle people and crowds well enough, so I really don't care. Until I met Teddy.

Actually, to be fair, I never met Teddy; I just sat through seven over times at a lacrosse game listening to Teddy's father as he coached his son as well as the two teams. It's not that he was yelling. He has one of those voices: clearly nasally from northern accent influence with a touch of New Yorker and New Jersey flavors. And of course, he talks like a Northerner. I know; I'm from Pennsylvania. The main distinguishing feature of Northern talk is abruptness mixed with repetitive phrases. It's different. Not bad, but different, and certainly tolerable in small doses. 

I sat next to Teddy and his father for over three hours.

"Teddy! Teddy, did you see that? That was a great shot. Teddy did you see him make a great shot. That shot is how great shots should be made Teddy. Teddy, that was a really great shot."

The worst part is that people who've yet to encounter a true Northerner will think I'm joking.

I'm not.

***He knew this kid's name because about every five minutes, it would poke him and say, "Hi! My name's Jeffrey; I'm four years old."

Why Doctors Hate Me

I figured that even though I should be working, explaining this point won't take very long, and it's better than Chem. Then again, assault and battery seems better than Chemistry. At least the physical bruises heal. There are days I wonder if I'm traumatizing my brain. But I digress....

If I were doctor and had me as a patient, I'd probably hate me, too. For one, I hate doctors, and if I had to deal with the shit I've dished out in the past, I'd probably kick my own ass. That said, 90% of the time I'm in doctors' offices, it's not of my own volition. Selfish point being that if I'm not happy, I see no reason to make your life any better. Hopefully, the tension means they'll ask me to leave sooner. Doesn't hurt my feelings; go ahead: give my appointment to some twitching hypochondriac fidgeting in the waiting room while grasping a thermometer and print out from Web M.D. At least that person wants to hear you talk.

Another reason doctors don't care for me beyond the attitude is my habit of preterition and in several cases, downright misleading statements. See, if something hurts, I know they want to hit it. If I've been feeling tired, clearly it must be mono. I've had blood drawn so frequently at the doctors' that I'm convinced they must be either the most wasteful scientists or donating half to blood drives. There's no way they need that much blood. If I used that much material in my lab, my prof would (rightly) want to beat me over the head. I just want to get out of the office, preferably without a prescription and not see them ever again.

It's Been a While

I'd say it was around February 22nd that I first began to feel a bit off-center. Nothing major, of course. Just off. We all feel not ourselves sometimes. But as it dragged into early March and soon had a companion (back pain), some people around me began to worry. Generally, I'm a very easy going person, but I--like most people--have topics over which I'm tenacious enough to go to war. Health is one of them. I disapprove would Western medicine; it's a travesty. And I hate doctors. A lot. I'll explain more thoroughly later, but to all the premeds of the world: you may well be on your way to a profession that I hope withers away and decays from society. Not joking. Ugh.... doctors. 

But, yes; back pain. My mom and my boyfriend were easily the most insistent that I go see a doctor, and quite frankly, the nagging was enough that an hour at the doctor would actually be worth turning off the ear beating. Other factors include my hypochondriac roommate twitching that I might have meningitis and, I hate to admit, a touch of self-doubt I was beginning to have that all was well. So I went mostly, as a friend at Longwood pointed out, to show them all and shut them up. Damn. FAIL. I had a moderate working towards severe kidney infection in the left and it had spread to the right. Had I waited three or four more days, I probably would have been hospitalized. Oops.

Well over a month later, and I've still not recovered entirely. The high point was the ER, a story which I wish to do justice to and so won't condense it in this particular post. Other fun parts include the secondary infection on account of the medicine to treat the kidney infection and a few incidences I've been told because I can't remember them (drug cocktail overdose).

Two Things

Last night around 10pm, a student at UVa was robbed and assaulted on the breezeway between Bryan Hall and Cabell. It just occurred to me that I was walking that very same breezeway less than two hours before the robbery occurred. It's weird, thinking that timing could mean so much. I've walked alone to the Lawn on multiple occasions; I never feel uncomfortable or threatened. Hell, every Monday night I walk back at 8pm from band. True, I'm usually accompanied by one or two friends but not every night. Sometimes I wonder if I ought to curtail my roamings. There have been nights where I can't sleep, and so I walk around UVa at 2am. It's very peaceful, and I love star and cloud gazing in the gentle coolness of the night. I just want to be able to do that for a long time....

On a lighter note, at UVa laundry is allegedly $3.00: $1.50 to wash, $1.50 to dry. While this price is already heavily overdone, the situation gets worse. I can almost guarantee that your clothes will not be dry the first time and have a chance of needing a third round. Well since late October, I haven't found a dryer that works right the first time, and because I have such a generally pleasant and good life anyway and thus have few things to bitch about (yet still need to bitch), I need to capitalize on every chance I get, and laundry costing $4.50 per load is more than fair game. Today, I loaded the dryer like usual and left my hamper--it's easier to do that than drag it back and forth, and just about everyone does it. When I came back after Round 1, I was amazed: the clothes were dry on the first go around! Excited, I told my friend who was doing laundry at the same time (yay for laundry parties), and then I went for my hamper. Hmmm.... Apparently someone thought my $1.50 hamper was a must-have and kindly borrowed it. Permanently, I have to assume. So even when laundry doesn't cost $4.50, it still finds a way to cost $4.50.

Eh, I'd rather have poor luck with the hamper than the walk.

Laundry Revelation

For many weeks, I've been considerably far behind in my laundry duties. One load needing washed, one needing folded (haha), clothes scattered about the room, and then general clothes still in drawers. Well, today I decided enough was enough; I need to clean this mess.

Before, somehow, I was under the delusion that I might have forgotten some clothes at home. I don't see how that could be possible. Why the hell do I have this many pairs of pants? Having more than 7 is stupid at college, but I've over 12 pairs that I've found so far. And I have shorts, long pants, under armor, dresses, T-shirts, camis, collared shirts, blouses, hoodies, rain coats, a trench coat, running outfits, winter coats, wind breakers....wtf?! I for one don't remember doing this to myself. 

But now that the gang's all here, I realized a problem: it doesn't all fit. It was better off draped across my bed or stacked on the floor, waiting in the laundry hamper, or just plain disappeared than it is now. Because I've maxed out my closet space and still have a load to fold and a load to wash. 

Maturity? I Have None

One of the best and worst ideas that clothing stores have ever had is playing music in the dressing rooms. Sure, it blocks out the whining kids a bit, and it adds sound color to what would normally be a very static environment, but they really need to watch the song selection.

So as I've mentioned before, I can't really shop in the adults' section; I don't fit the clothing. This means I have to shop in the kids' or juniors' section. Either way, the options are bad. I'm a terribly sarcastic person, and the clothing options for children these days provides endless opportunity for me to tear down verbally. 

So I'm an adult shopping in the kids' section and using the kids' dressing room because I'm not motivated enough to go back across the store just to try on a shirt. Moreover, I'm an immature adult in the funny looking dressing rooms with horribly age inappropriate clothes and an untempered mouth. Yeah, I've gotten looks from parents before.

Few people realize how much dance techno dressing room music can add to a person's shopping experience. Add the music to walls of mirrors, and you get an idiots acting as though there's just been an OD taken of crack.

Yeah, that might have been the most interesting shopping trip to date.

A Paradox

Today my sister was notified that she was accepted into the Center Based Gifted Program in our area. This same person--my dear gifted sister--could not figure out how to lock a bathroom door today. 

Lock was a switch style that could turn two ways: up and down. 

I knew she was going to the Far Side but hadn't realized she would be attending Melville. 

About Bra Sizes

Before I forget, I meant to have a tirade about bra sizes. They are really annoying. Alright, so you have the standard A, B, C, etc., and we all know the AA, BB, CC, DD, etc. Those are fairly simple, well-known, and in general, just there. It's what you have to put up with (or for you grammarians, up with which you have to put). 

But now there are also Nearly A, NB, NC, and half sizes, and for the life of me, I can't tell if these are the same thing by different name, or if they're two completely different systems. The half I understand: midway between point x and y. Gotcha. No confusion. It's these "nearly" sizes that keep tripping me up. See, I recognize that there is leeway in defining "nearly," but if I were going to venture a guess, I'd say that Nearly would be greater than Half. If a job's less than halfway done, you don't call it nearly done unless you're the Government. Then you call it done until someone chews your ass out. But clothing lines usually don't get away with such inadequacy; people are actually watching them.

Nearly. Nearly A should be say, 90% the size of a true B. That makes sense: it's almost the size of a B but not quite. Instead, I find that "nearly" bras are often 10% bigger than what they're supposed to be. For example, Nearly B would actually be closer to an A+ (forgive the pun). Seriously, it's like a 110% A, which I understood to be synonymous with AA. 

See? This is too complicated. If I could just have a cheat sheet with everything written down, that'd be great. The problem is I'd need a different sheet for everything clothing line. And I'm lazy. At least on this topic, I'm extremely lazy. I don't want to have to work at clothing. I define matching clothes as something with sleeves matches something with pant legs. Seriously. It can be that simple. Women are just determined not to make it so. A conspiracy, I swear.

FML

Alright, I know I'm small. No question in my mind, I'm short, petite, all those wonderful things. And I know it. There's no need to add insult to it because we only insult people in denial. Cool.

So every now and again I need new clothes; who doesn't? Well, after taking inventory, I concluded a need for new bras. In general, clothes shopping isn't fun, but whatever. Bras are the sort of thing that you can get two at a time and be fine. It's not like you need eight every two days. Again, cool.

The numbering and lettering of bras always seemed asinine and unnecessarily complex. Moreover, what one company calls an A, another company calls a B, and the same goes for 34, 36, etc. Whatever. It's a crappy system, but I'm used to it.

Well, I start in the adults' section, and why not? I'm plenty old enough to vote and buy lottery tickets. I see no issues here. Except one. All of the bras are laughably too big. All of them. We're talking girth and cup size. Frankly, I'm small chested, I know it, and these were equipped to handle large cantaloupes. Jesus, who are they expecting to be shopping here? So I go to juniors. Same thing. Now I've nearly run out of options. There's only one... other... place.

Few people understand how awkward it is to stand in the kids' section as an adult sincerely browsing the merchandise. I was in the kids' section because nothing else fit. I tried it. So I'm standing in an aisle flanked by toddler clothes and Dora the Explorer, and an eight year old walks by. What the fuck? We should not be shopping in the same location. Store: okay. Area of the store: hell no. HELL NO. And I must admit, the ... styles?... available for that age bracket are disturbing for someone in mine. No fucking way I'm wearing a Powder Puff Girls bra. No. Nothing quite kills a mood as ugly cartoon characters scrawled across someone's chest. Someone significantly older than... that. And kids these days must hate plain, solid colors because every one of those damn bras had some design: dots, stripes--and we're not talking the subtle sort--ribbons, glitter (a. k. a. stripper dust to train them early), cartoons, etc. The list went on forever. And the worst thing was.... they fit. FML.

Procrastination

I honestly have nearly 20 postings that I've written up in Word and just haven't transferred. That rather annoys me. Whenever I procrastinate I feel as though I've let myself down. It's an unfortunate cycle that I've fallen into over the years. Right now, I have stacks of homework needing to be done, and yet here I am, pondering life rather than filling my responsibilities. 

But more on that later.

Hmmm

You know, rereading these posts, I realize that I type very differently than I talk. I figured out what it is: when I'm thinking, I diagram my sentences down to the smallest parts, and I love configuring ideas into the weirdest yet still correct phrases. It's geeky, but then again, so am I. Anyway, when I talk, I translate the mess into actual vernacular English. When I type, that filter only halfway works. The result? I sound disjointed. Oh well.

I must admit that on the topic of tone, "Ruminations" comes off as exceptionally dark--an air I really don't want. Fancies, Impressions, Musings (the last being my favorite) all seem better suited for me. Overt Preterition works very well, though. Ask anyone, I draw attention to what I don't say than what actually stumbles across my lips. My face says more than I will and echoes what I'm really thinking... sometimes. There have been misreadings, but I suppose no science is exact. 

Eh, whatever. I try to do so much, and I rather am sad that there's not a running checker overlooking a list of "Things You Do Well" and "Things To Improve." Oh, sure, some of the points are easy, like stop being so sarcastic, but it's not what you know you don't know that will hurt you: it's what you don't know you don't know, if that makes any sense. I know that I don't know the capital of every US state, but there's some helpful fact out there that I don't even know exists, and therefore I don't know that I don't know it.

Last thought: I really love that obvious omission rhymes with overt preterition. Reminds me of crossword puzzles me and my grandpa used to do together. I can see it now:

Clues:

Across-

1. Obvious omission (16 spaces) 

***knowing smile***

          Awesome

Mind Games

Perception affects everything, is everything. People don't respond to actions, they respond to how said action made them feel, how they took the action to be. It's a fine distinction to be sure, but I live for semantics. 

Mostly, I can't help but marvel at the mind, and if modesty allows it be said, my own mind isn't a dull specimen on which to start. I never really found anything that I did to be abnormal, at least not in this context. The extent that I can pull on my imagination seems to be a touch on the rarer side. Either that, or I've associated with completely unrefined people with no imagination--a situation less likely than NASA having faked landing on the moon (yes, some people think that was faked. Whatever; knowing that I will anyway, I try to make the minimum judgements possible). Also, I recently found out that not everybody can smell marshmallows. We walked into this convenience store looking to buy some, and from the moment we walked in, the smell was overpowering. They were in the back of the store in air tight packages. Oh well. It's a cool party trick, but annoying. You have no idea how bad the world can smell sometimes. Then again, it has its very good days.

But anyway, back to the mind at large. I often get side-tracked and scatterbrained, possibly from lack of sleep, possibly from missing a friend, maybe even hormones. Who knows? I've always wondered how other people see the world and not in the metaphorical sense, either. I want to be able to physically look through their eyes and see what they see. Does every shade of red they see look like what I've known? Does a flute sound the same, or is their hearing diminished or augmented in such a way to change the timbre? When other people read books, can they see a little movie in their minds, playing out the scenes in vast forests and wide deserts, or are they just seeing the words and comprehending the meanings?

I suppose this whole train of thought, which has admittedly come before, has reappeared because I'm missing a friend. As a child, I was exceptionally lonely and so used tricks and games in my mind to make things seem not as reality would have intended. So, rather than acknowledge the true distance, I prefer to tell myself that not seeing him is because he's at a practice running late or sleeping in. Something that places him close. Anything that has him closer to me than he is right now and will be for the next 82 days....

I hope he has a blast; I really do, and I know that he will. He's a happy, cheerful, delightful, polite, and endearing gentleman. I just hate that I have to miss him.

*sigh*

I've never made friends quickly, and I'm not entirely certain of the cause. I can find different traits, characteristics of mine, but over all, I suppose it must just be me. There's only ever been one person whom I ever met that I immediately felt a connection. 

Oddly enough, it was at an Evangelical service--and I use this word very liberally; the service was entertainment, not outreach, at least, not how he intended. But this man proceeded to lecture on the evils at UVa, the terrible whoremongers and sluts that infest it, the heathens at every corner, and on and on he went. You know that mouse you sometimes see in the pets store? The one clearly missing either an entire chromosome or functioning brain? Sometimes you see it find the spinning wheel and watch as it tries to outrun the wheel, tries to conquer the wheel by running faster. You know it's not going to work; the mouse is, at best, an idiot. Clearly not seeing the logical--and forgive me--correct way to go about disembarking from the wheel. Yet you watch. You're curious what it will try next because while logic is horrifically boring, chaos has no reruns and will continuously baffle you with the half-bred ideas it always manages to produce. 

Morbid. Morbid, terrible, amazing curiosity is what holds you watching that mouse. And every time it runs fast enough to flip itself over on its ass, you chuckle and keep watching to see if it's stupid enough to do it again. The answer: yeah, probably. 

This is Brother Micah. You hope he doesn't take himself seriously, that he thinks it's a joke, but you can't believe that anymore than you actually believe the mouse in the wheel is joking with an audience. Anyway, as this *cough* person continues to drone and to lecture and even to sing about the horrible nature of homosexuality, I see a very interesting person approaching me and company. He was very cute, I admit it, a refreshing change from the high density popped collars and khaki pants, he sported actual clothing. Well, too. Anyway (must'nt let that distract), as I watched him debate and speak, I was strongly reminded of my brother in a fond way. Later on, I saw him outside of a dining hall reading. Several months later I have realized that the boy I had watched with much intrigue has become my best friend in the whole world.

Naturally

Of course, for whatever reason, the post I want to attach refuses to allow itself to be seen. Perhaps it's shotty internet, but I always found the idea of a divine something or other pulling strings as an interesting, if not hard to believe, concept. 

I don't know how I do this action so frequently, but I've amassed a wealth of posts that I intend to post, yet somehow, the five seconds it would take to do so elude me until I have a line 16 deeper than the DMV five minutes after opening. Same impatient standing and glaring, too. I don't even know why we have the DMV, unless it's for universal commiseration site. Nobody has good stories about it. Nobody. It's like finding someone from the 1930s going on about how grand life was then as now: you don't. And it doesn't matter: East vs. West, North v. South--nobody looks forward to going. Dammit, next time I have to go I swear I'll just grab a bottle of Vicodin and a tent. Then at least it'd be fun. 

Oh wait, I'm not House; I'd get arrested for that. 

Alright, no tent, then.