Finally, it's here. SATC has made its way to Chicago. Thank god.
And I say this in the reverse sense of your initial interpretation: if I read one more headline about the Sex and the City movie I'll kill myself. OK, I wouldn't actually kill myself, but constantly reading and seeing the hoopla over this movie to no conceivable end makes me want to. Badly.
Rusty razor blade and white porcelain bathtub, badly.
The RedEye is probably the worst at covering it. SATC places eat, SATC parties, SATC clothes, SATC hair-dos, SATC hotspots, SATC boyfriend-getting guides, SATC cocktails, SATC sex.
UGHHHHHH. Stop it.
I've never seen an episode. And I don't want to. I don't care enough to. There are far more entertainment options other than obsessing over 140 minutes of fabulous females lifestyles filled with sex, cosmos, and shoes. Really!? This is what you look forward to? Really?!
Get over it people.
Here are other things I don't like:
Hipster everything,
Skinny people,
Sushi,
People who obsess over eating sushi,
Whole Foods,
Madonna,
Endless buzz about the new 90210, the return of New Kids on the Block, and Shia LeBouf,
Cubs enthusiasts,
Vodka,
and gourmet jelly beans.
TGIF!
5.29.2008
Honeydew:
Finding the perfect apartment
Finding out what transpires at work
Finding the people I need in life
Finding peace with my circumstances
Keeping my wits
Keeping time
Keeping them close, and others closer
Keeping it cool
Staying the course
Staying in shape
Staying true to myself
Staying alive
Forget about the naysayers
Forget their quips
Forget the numbing silence
Forget the rest
Be honest
Be direct
Be composed
Be yourself
You're OK
You're perfectly fine.
Finding the perfect apartment
Finding out what transpires at work
Finding the people I need in life
Finding peace with my circumstances
Keeping my wits
Keeping time
Keeping them close, and others closer
Keeping it cool
Staying the course
Staying in shape
Staying true to myself
Staying alive
Forget about the naysayers
Forget their quips
Forget the numbing silence
Forget the rest
Be honest
Be direct
Be composed
Be yourself
You're OK
You're perfectly fine.
5.20.2008
When I was a little kid, my Mom used to put her hand on top of my head and squeeze it tightly saying..."I'm energizing your brain! You will be SO smart today!" She would make her body tremble slightly, making me fully believe that she was actually transferring positive energy and 'smarts' into my brain and coursing through my blood stream via her powerful mind.
It usually didn't work. Bless her heart though. I really struggled in grade school, middle school, junior high, and high school. I wasn't dumb by any means, I just never "applied" myself. I was always daydreaming, always thinking about lunch, always thinking about something other than what I was supposed to be thinking about. I was horrible at math (still am to this very day) and not so great in science, either. Reading I could always do. Spelling, no problem. State capitals? In the bag.
Math and science though, ugh, killer. In eighth grade I remember waking up at the crack of dawn and riding my bike through the cold morning air to get to school early so that Ms. Klein could tutor me through my pre-algebra homework. For the life of me, I could not do it on my own. Ms. Klein was so patient with me. So patient that I'm recalling her patience in my blog 13 years later. Thank you, Ms. Klein.
My Mom also helped me with my pre-algebra homework. Except, I would usually get mad at her. I would do my homework at night and then leave it on the kitchen table for my Mom to check in the morning. It'd be 5 a.m. and my Mom would holler up the stairs, "Ryaaaaaaan, wake upppp, I need to talk to you about your algebraaaaaa..."
Ugh. Mom...just write in the answers for me, will ya?
No.
My Mom's early morning wake-up call both annoyed me and confirmed my stupidity. I knew the answers weren't right, but hey, I showed my work at least. Can't I just look in the back of the book...all of the odd answers are there!?
No.
Mom would sit down with me and go over EVERY single math problem. Somehow she retained useless math knowledge. Good for her. To this day the only pre-algebra principle I retained was FOIL (First, outer, inner, last). Thank you, thank you.
Anyway, she copied the problems down on her own piece of paper, fully worked out each problem, and then recorded her answers so that she could walk me through each problem and its resolution, step-by-step.
She's a saint. But at the time she was the devil because she had ALL of the corret answers right there on her paper and she wouldn't let me turn hers in instead of my own. Such a time-saving idea.
The nerve.
To this day I have NO idea how I received a high school diploma. I feel like I EARNED a diploma, but did I actually pass all of my math and science classes? Apparently so--somehow I successfully passed pre-algebra, algebra 1, algebra II, geometry, chemistry, and calculus...?
Woah, how is that possible?
I don't think it is, but let's keep that between you and I, alright?
In the seventh grade I made it to the Illinois regional spelling bee, an honor you had to earn by beating everyone in your grade in a school spelling competition. I was an excellent speller and I beat everyone. I was so cool that whole month before regionals. My school was small enough that regional spelling bees were BIG TICKET affairs therefore I was especially proud of myself for being a contender. Oh, well hello Galva News reporter, yes my last name is Sumner...like Summer, except with an N, *wink*
Everyone comes to watch the regional spelling bee. And I mean EVERYONE. Old, young, whatever. Plus, all of the participating schools were forced to come to it. It was like a county-wide assembly. Lots of peers. Mom left work early to be there. Added pressure. Ryan, you can do this, you're brilliant, I told myself. I spelled my first couple of words right. Rounds went by. A bunch of kids screwed up some easy words...I advanced further by their default. Out of 25 kids, there were 5 left.
My turn.
Your word is: mandate.
Mandate?
Yes, mandate.
Umm...M-A-N-.............D-A-.........I-T.
Mandait?
*Ding*
It sounded plausible in my head. My Mom watched from the bleachers. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was there. She probably smacked her forehead on my behalf. She didn't, she wouldn't. Actually, she was so proud of me that she took me to Happy Joe's for pizza. I still felt like I let her down more than myself.
But maybe not, maybe it was her fault?
Her brain waves kind of sucked.
It usually didn't work. Bless her heart though. I really struggled in grade school, middle school, junior high, and high school. I wasn't dumb by any means, I just never "applied" myself. I was always daydreaming, always thinking about lunch, always thinking about something other than what I was supposed to be thinking about. I was horrible at math (still am to this very day) and not so great in science, either. Reading I could always do. Spelling, no problem. State capitals? In the bag.
Math and science though, ugh, killer. In eighth grade I remember waking up at the crack of dawn and riding my bike through the cold morning air to get to school early so that Ms. Klein could tutor me through my pre-algebra homework. For the life of me, I could not do it on my own. Ms. Klein was so patient with me. So patient that I'm recalling her patience in my blog 13 years later. Thank you, Ms. Klein.
My Mom also helped me with my pre-algebra homework. Except, I would usually get mad at her. I would do my homework at night and then leave it on the kitchen table for my Mom to check in the morning. It'd be 5 a.m. and my Mom would holler up the stairs, "Ryaaaaaaan, wake upppp, I need to talk to you about your algebraaaaaa..."
Ugh. Mom...just write in the answers for me, will ya?
No.
My Mom's early morning wake-up call both annoyed me and confirmed my stupidity. I knew the answers weren't right, but hey, I showed my work at least. Can't I just look in the back of the book...all of the odd answers are there!?
No.
Mom would sit down with me and go over EVERY single math problem. Somehow she retained useless math knowledge. Good for her. To this day the only pre-algebra principle I retained was FOIL (First, outer, inner, last). Thank you, thank you.
Anyway, she copied the problems down on her own piece of paper, fully worked out each problem, and then recorded her answers so that she could walk me through each problem and its resolution, step-by-step.
She's a saint. But at the time she was the devil because she had ALL of the corret answers right there on her paper and she wouldn't let me turn hers in instead of my own. Such a time-saving idea.
The nerve.
To this day I have NO idea how I received a high school diploma. I feel like I EARNED a diploma, but did I actually pass all of my math and science classes? Apparently so--somehow I successfully passed pre-algebra, algebra 1, algebra II, geometry, chemistry, and calculus...?
Woah, how is that possible?
I don't think it is, but let's keep that between you and I, alright?
In the seventh grade I made it to the Illinois regional spelling bee, an honor you had to earn by beating everyone in your grade in a school spelling competition. I was an excellent speller and I beat everyone. I was so cool that whole month before regionals. My school was small enough that regional spelling bees were BIG TICKET affairs therefore I was especially proud of myself for being a contender. Oh, well hello Galva News reporter, yes my last name is Sumner...like Summer, except with an N, *wink*
Everyone comes to watch the regional spelling bee. And I mean EVERYONE. Old, young, whatever. Plus, all of the participating schools were forced to come to it. It was like a county-wide assembly. Lots of peers. Mom left work early to be there. Added pressure. Ryan, you can do this, you're brilliant, I told myself. I spelled my first couple of words right. Rounds went by. A bunch of kids screwed up some easy words...I advanced further by their default. Out of 25 kids, there were 5 left.
My turn.
Your word is: mandate.
Mandate?
Yes, mandate.
Umm...M-A-N-.............D-A-.........I-T.
Mandait?
*Ding*
It sounded plausible in my head. My Mom watched from the bleachers. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was there. She probably smacked her forehead on my behalf. She didn't, she wouldn't. Actually, she was so proud of me that she took me to Happy Joe's for pizza. I still felt like I let her down more than myself.
But maybe not, maybe it was her fault?
Her brain waves kind of sucked.
5.18.2008
Quiet weekend. Quiet room. Quiet mind.
Too quiet.
I don't think I said more than 6 words today.
"Um, strawberry and banana smoothie please."
Oh...and "Thanks."
OK, so make that 7. At any rate, that was the only meaningful conversation I had today with a three-dimensional, living, breathing human being.
Something's wrong.
What am I doing wrong here? Hmm. I guess my life is underexposed. Pink. Rare. Almost inedible.
I'm not aggressive enough. I'm cautious. I don't seek others. I wait to be sought. I don't make the first move, I wait to reject them from others.
I avoid eye contact at all costs. Looks across the room rarely exist. Or at least they're not returned.
I live in a bubble. Or, I've trapped myself within a plastic bubble. No, no--a velour bubble. With several throw pillows. You know, to keep it comfy.
This must be the reason why I only said 7 words today: I'm too comfortable in this damn bubble.
Suddenly I realized...I'm sort of alone. I have others...but the others don't always need me.
Shit.
What do I do?
Burst the bubble?
I'll try.
I went to a bar by myself for the first time EVER in my life. It was quite possibly the worst time/the worst experience I've ever had. Bars are full of lonely, single people, right? It's even full of people who too came alone, unaccompanied. But for some reason I never felt more alone in my life.
And I think everyone noticed.
Stared.
I'm a work in progress: I'll figure this out. But in the meantime, I'm floating this bubble through the Taco Bell drive-thru.
"The number nine please, soft."
5 more words. Small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
Too quiet.
I don't think I said more than 6 words today.
"Um, strawberry and banana smoothie please."
Oh...and "Thanks."
OK, so make that 7. At any rate, that was the only meaningful conversation I had today with a three-dimensional, living, breathing human being.
Something's wrong.
What am I doing wrong here? Hmm. I guess my life is underexposed. Pink. Rare. Almost inedible.
I'm not aggressive enough. I'm cautious. I don't seek others. I wait to be sought. I don't make the first move, I wait to reject them from others.
I avoid eye contact at all costs. Looks across the room rarely exist. Or at least they're not returned.
I live in a bubble. Or, I've trapped myself within a plastic bubble. No, no--a velour bubble. With several throw pillows. You know, to keep it comfy.
This must be the reason why I only said 7 words today: I'm too comfortable in this damn bubble.
Suddenly I realized...I'm sort of alone. I have others...but the others don't always need me.
Shit.
What do I do?
Burst the bubble?
I'll try.
I went to a bar by myself for the first time EVER in my life. It was quite possibly the worst time/the worst experience I've ever had. Bars are full of lonely, single people, right? It's even full of people who too came alone, unaccompanied. But for some reason I never felt more alone in my life.
And I think everyone noticed.
Stared.
I'm a work in progress: I'll figure this out. But in the meantime, I'm floating this bubble through the Taco Bell drive-thru.
"The number nine please, soft."
5 more words. Small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
5.16.2008
Quite a few thoughts on my mind:
So, California and its overturn of their gay marriage ban: people are freaking--it's an abomination against what marriage is supposed to be, next people are going to be marrying family members or animals, God's wrath is going to create earthquakes in Cali to show his disapproval...
Really people?
Why is it so horrible to extend the act of marriage to involve gay men and women? It's not like gay men and women chose to be gay. Yet, America can disregard their rights as citizens by discluding them, by lessening their existence, by segregating them as being different from the rest of society? I realize most of the resistance stems from religious zealots and Republicans, or rather the more "conservative." Let's not forget that heterosexual people can be legally married at any time, for any reason, with any person (as long as they're not of the same sex). I mean, look at Las Vegas. Hmm, yes, a great example of how dignified heterosexual unions can truly be. There are no rules. Marriage has no other boundries other than being between "a man and a woman." Oh, and it has to be documented. Like on paper or on the Jerry Springer show. Or, classier venues like the Today show or on Regis & Kelly. You know, the way God and our founding fathers intended it to be.
Yet gays are going to ruin the sanctity of marriage?
Please.
Or, despite the fact that marriage isn't necessarily a purely religious act or symbol, after all, millions of non-religious citizens (including atheists) are married every year in places that AREN'T churches, yet gay men and women can't be married at all because God or Jesus or someone said in the Bible that it was a big no-no? Really? Do we really follow the Bible that closely when making decisions that affect the lives of hundreds of millions of free and uniquely different American citizens? Does our government follow the Bible? Does everyone follow the Bible?
I don't know that I do. I'm still a good person. I treat others kindly. I follow the law. I follow my morals. I follow my spirituality. But my spirituality doesn't include casting judgement onto people that are different from me, it doesn't include preaching my beliefs onto others, it doesn't include hate, rage, or superiority. It doesn't include any of that. But religious citizens seem to host these insecurities and hostilities more than anyone.
As if it's their job. If something happens in our world that is against what the Bible says, it's WRONG! EVIL DOER! Stop them!
No, stop yourself.
It's 2008. Times have changed since the creation of the Bible. Since the creation of the Constitution.
People fear the unknown. Simply put--a lot was unknown back then. We know more now. Some of us, anyway. Open your mind. Perhaps, some day, our society could reflect a growing, evolving culture rather than cling to its primitive ignorance?
That might be asking too much, too soon.
Shame.
So, California and its overturn of their gay marriage ban: people are freaking--it's an abomination against what marriage is supposed to be, next people are going to be marrying family members or animals, God's wrath is going to create earthquakes in Cali to show his disapproval...
Really people?
Why is it so horrible to extend the act of marriage to involve gay men and women? It's not like gay men and women chose to be gay. Yet, America can disregard their rights as citizens by discluding them, by lessening their existence, by segregating them as being different from the rest of society? I realize most of the resistance stems from religious zealots and Republicans, or rather the more "conservative." Let's not forget that heterosexual people can be legally married at any time, for any reason, with any person (as long as they're not of the same sex). I mean, look at Las Vegas. Hmm, yes, a great example of how dignified heterosexual unions can truly be. There are no rules. Marriage has no other boundries other than being between "a man and a woman." Oh, and it has to be documented. Like on paper or on the Jerry Springer show. Or, classier venues like the Today show or on Regis & Kelly. You know, the way God and our founding fathers intended it to be.
Yet gays are going to ruin the sanctity of marriage?
Please.
Or, despite the fact that marriage isn't necessarily a purely religious act or symbol, after all, millions of non-religious citizens (including atheists) are married every year in places that AREN'T churches, yet gay men and women can't be married at all because God or Jesus or someone said in the Bible that it was a big no-no? Really? Do we really follow the Bible that closely when making decisions that affect the lives of hundreds of millions of free and uniquely different American citizens? Does our government follow the Bible? Does everyone follow the Bible?
I don't know that I do. I'm still a good person. I treat others kindly. I follow the law. I follow my morals. I follow my spirituality. But my spirituality doesn't include casting judgement onto people that are different from me, it doesn't include preaching my beliefs onto others, it doesn't include hate, rage, or superiority. It doesn't include any of that. But religious citizens seem to host these insecurities and hostilities more than anyone.
As if it's their job. If something happens in our world that is against what the Bible says, it's WRONG! EVIL DOER! Stop them!
No, stop yourself.
It's 2008. Times have changed since the creation of the Bible. Since the creation of the Constitution.
People fear the unknown. Simply put--a lot was unknown back then. We know more now. Some of us, anyway. Open your mind. Perhaps, some day, our society could reflect a growing, evolving culture rather than cling to its primitive ignorance?
That might be asking too much, too soon.
Shame.
5.12.2008
Mom's Day has come and gone, but I thought I'd share some things about my Mom. I'm always thinking about her:
-She's always happy to see me. Always.
-She's genuine. She's real. She is love.
-She's beautiful.
-She comforts me: she makes me feel home, she makes me feel safe, she makes me feel.
-She knows what she's talking about, even if I don't think so at the time, she's usually right.
-She always has the best intentions within everything she does.
-She makes my heart happy.
-She'll do anything for her family. Especially me.
-She cooks with love--I can taste it.
-She is love.
-She makes me genuinely laugh and she doesn't even have to try.
-She makes it so easy to talk, to relate, to think, to be.
-She gives herself entirely to me, and I know that will never change. Never.
-She's my most favorite person in the entire world.
And lastly,
-She's everything to me. Everything, everything.
I love you so much, Mom.
-She's always happy to see me. Always.
-She's genuine. She's real. She is love.
-She's beautiful.
-She comforts me: she makes me feel home, she makes me feel safe, she makes me feel.
-She knows what she's talking about, even if I don't think so at the time, she's usually right.
-She always has the best intentions within everything she does.
-She makes my heart happy.
-She'll do anything for her family. Especially me.
-She cooks with love--I can taste it.
-She is love.
-She makes me genuinely laugh and she doesn't even have to try.
-She makes it so easy to talk, to relate, to think, to be.
-She gives herself entirely to me, and I know that will never change. Never.
-She's my most favorite person in the entire world.
And lastly,
-She's everything to me. Everything, everything.
I love you so much, Mom.
5.05.2008
Rant: What are role models? TV is almost too disgusting these days. Miley's "scandalous" Vanity Fair photo...who cares? Who is she? Why is she in Vanity Fair to begin with? If parents think that she is SUCH a squeaky-clean role model, well they're misinformed from the start. Role models aren't Disney stars. Actors and actresses aren't role models. They don't really do anything. If your children pick and choose role models from watching the tube--get them away from it.
Role models are REAL people. They're your parents. They're your aunts and uncles. They're your teachers.
I can honestly say that I've never had a celebrity role model. Ever. Why would I? And who? Maybe that's being preachy but I'm SO thankful I can say that. A lot of kids cannot. Their parents look for babysitters--oh, hey Toshiba. You're it. Hannah Montana is on. Perfect. Kids: obey Hannah.
And America wonders why school shootings are so popular these days. Hmm...tough one.
Parents should be parents.
Role models are REAL people. They're your parents. They're your aunts and uncles. They're your teachers.
I can honestly say that I've never had a celebrity role model. Ever. Why would I? And who? Maybe that's being preachy but I'm SO thankful I can say that. A lot of kids cannot. Their parents look for babysitters--oh, hey Toshiba. You're it. Hannah Montana is on. Perfect. Kids: obey Hannah.
And America wonders why school shootings are so popular these days. Hmm...tough one.
Parents should be parents.
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