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.
4.30.2008
Someone asked me a rather interesting question today. A female counterpart of mine asked suddenly and rather bluntly, "What makes you such a prize?!" Let it be known, the aforementioned female is a complete bitch.
Hmm, what makes me a prize? Well, first of all, when this question was initially posed it took me back to the movie Aladdin...you know, when Princess Jasmine tells her bickering suitors "I am not a prize to be won!" *Storms off*
Dammit, Jasmine! You stole my line...that would have been the perfect response as well as a perfect way to end the conversation entirely.
Storming off is true talent of mine. Ask anybody.
But the question lingered in my head after I left and I felt the need to answer it to myself. What makes me a prize? Ugh, so many things to choose from, I couldn't possibly...
I'll try:
Maybe it's my natural singing voice? It's a pretty sweet mix between an opera falsetto and a jazzy scat...no matter the song. I lost my voice for two weeks for reasons unknown to mankind, but ask any dog and it'll tell you it's from my off-the-hook rendition of "Never Again" by Kelly Clarkson.
Maybe it's my gullible, easily entertained personality? Put a dog and pony in front of me and I'll pay you good money to see them perform. Unfunny people make me laugh. Funny people are usually over my head though. Oprah made me laugh the other day--and I quote, while strapped in a harness for some physical challenge she did last summer on her show, she eloquently stated "My va-jay-jay is painin!" Oh Oprah. TOO funny.
Maybe I'm a prize because I'm so friendly? I even have a hard time being mean to my enemies. And yes, I do have a few. Well wait, just one. I guess there's only one person on Earth whose presence instills burning rage and hostility within every fiber of my being. I mean, I'm typically unable to hold grudges for an absurdly long time. It's just this one person though, yeah, I sooo won't be at his funeral. More like I'll be dancing on his grave. YIKES. I'd erase that but hey, what the heck. I'll be bold.
Maybe it's because I'm so bold? I'm actually not bold at all. Some guy at Mezza put cucumbers on my steak wrap today at lunch even though I said I only wanted lettuce and tahini sauce on it. But for some reason he put 6 cucumber slices on the thing. Did I freak out? No. Did I say something about the mistake? No. Did I accept it as is, albeit incorrect? Yes. I paid, sat down, picked off the cucumbers, and in every bite I quietly thought to myself, "motherfucker, this tastes like CUCUMBERS!"
Maybe I'm not a prize. Maybe I'm undateable. Maybe I'm not as special as I think I am. Maybe I'm a big, dumb loser.
No, I'm totally not any of those things. Well, maybe I'm undateable. I haven't had much luck in that field lately. But is it me, or is it them? I think it's them.
After all, I'm a prize to be won.
*Storms off*
Hmm, what makes me a prize? Well, first of all, when this question was initially posed it took me back to the movie Aladdin...you know, when Princess Jasmine tells her bickering suitors "I am not a prize to be won!" *Storms off*
Dammit, Jasmine! You stole my line...that would have been the perfect response as well as a perfect way to end the conversation entirely.
Storming off is true talent of mine. Ask anybody.
But the question lingered in my head after I left and I felt the need to answer it to myself. What makes me a prize? Ugh, so many things to choose from, I couldn't possibly...
I'll try:
Maybe it's my natural singing voice? It's a pretty sweet mix between an opera falsetto and a jazzy scat...no matter the song. I lost my voice for two weeks for reasons unknown to mankind, but ask any dog and it'll tell you it's from my off-the-hook rendition of "Never Again" by Kelly Clarkson.
Maybe it's my gullible, easily entertained personality? Put a dog and pony in front of me and I'll pay you good money to see them perform. Unfunny people make me laugh. Funny people are usually over my head though. Oprah made me laugh the other day--and I quote, while strapped in a harness for some physical challenge she did last summer on her show, she eloquently stated "My va-jay-jay is painin!" Oh Oprah. TOO funny.
Maybe I'm a prize because I'm so friendly? I even have a hard time being mean to my enemies. And yes, I do have a few. Well wait, just one. I guess there's only one person on Earth whose presence instills burning rage and hostility within every fiber of my being. I mean, I'm typically unable to hold grudges for an absurdly long time. It's just this one person though, yeah, I sooo won't be at his funeral. More like I'll be dancing on his grave. YIKES. I'd erase that but hey, what the heck. I'll be bold.
Maybe it's because I'm so bold? I'm actually not bold at all. Some guy at Mezza put cucumbers on my steak wrap today at lunch even though I said I only wanted lettuce and tahini sauce on it. But for some reason he put 6 cucumber slices on the thing. Did I freak out? No. Did I say something about the mistake? No. Did I accept it as is, albeit incorrect? Yes. I paid, sat down, picked off the cucumbers, and in every bite I quietly thought to myself, "motherfucker, this tastes like CUCUMBERS!"
Maybe I'm not a prize. Maybe I'm undateable. Maybe I'm not as special as I think I am. Maybe I'm a big, dumb loser.
No, I'm totally not any of those things. Well, maybe I'm undateable. I haven't had much luck in that field lately. But is it me, or is it them? I think it's them.
After all, I'm a prize to be won.
*Storms off*
4.29.2008
Changing your life is such a daunting, wasteful idea, really. Think of the time frame. Think of the commitment. Think of the guts. Think about it for a second, because when you wake up tomorrow, the thought will be gone and you’ll go about your life just like any other day where a thought came and went without merit.
It happens.
It happens a lot. It seems impossible for your work day to change. It seems impossible for your mother to understand how your paychecks come in every other week yet you're still scrounging to pay rent each month. It seems impossible that you’re going to be alive 20 years from now, quite possibly still doing the very same thing you did today.
Dreadful.
But it shouldn’t be.
So many ideas race through my head: I’m quitting my job tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m flying to Africa to save orphans. Tomorrow I’m waking up early to run three miles. Tomorrow I’m moving home and living with my Mom and Dad permanently. After all, Mom’s tater tot casserole is to die for.
Tomorrow I’m changing something…anything. Tomorrow I’m not doing what I did today. Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will be different.
So change all ready. Go on. Do it.
I am. Tomorrow’s almost here, so I’m starting today.
My book.
It happens.
It happens a lot. It seems impossible for your work day to change. It seems impossible for your mother to understand how your paychecks come in every other week yet you're still scrounging to pay rent each month. It seems impossible that you’re going to be alive 20 years from now, quite possibly still doing the very same thing you did today.
Dreadful.
But it shouldn’t be.
So many ideas race through my head: I’m quitting my job tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m flying to Africa to save orphans. Tomorrow I’m waking up early to run three miles. Tomorrow I’m moving home and living with my Mom and Dad permanently. After all, Mom’s tater tot casserole is to die for.
Tomorrow I’m changing something…anything. Tomorrow I’m not doing what I did today. Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I will be different.
So change all ready. Go on. Do it.
I am. Tomorrow’s almost here, so I’m starting today.
My book.
4.28.2008
Walk out into velvet
Nothing more to say
You're my favourite moment
You're my Saturday
Cuz you're my number one
I'm like a dog to get you
I want it up and on
I'm like a dog to get you
Sunset only seconds
Just ripe then it's gone
Got no new intentions
Just right then it's gone
Cuz you're my number one
I'm like a dog to get you
I want it up and on
I'm like a dog to get you
I'll be there to meet you
Getting down to greet you
Howl under the moon
Nothing more to say
You're my favourite moment
You're my Saturday
Cuz you're my number one
I'm like a dog to get you
I want it up and on
I'm like a dog to get you
Sunset only seconds
Just ripe then it's gone
Got no new intentions
Just right then it's gone
Cuz you're my number one
I'm like a dog to get you
I want it up and on
I'm like a dog to get you
I'll be there to meet you
Getting down to greet you
Howl under the moon
4.27.2008
Today according to Ryan:
-Turning 26 is a blessing. Here's to 26 more.
-Organization of a household is so key.
-Tomorrow I'm buying a little blank book to keep my life in order. It'll house everything.
-Love is for the birds. I'm a Bald Eagle.
-Staring is rude. Nervous glances here, there, and everywhere to make it seem like you're not staring is perfectly acceptable though.
-Take the time to listen to new music. It can change you.
-Smiling is so fundamentally, universally appreciated. It too can change everything.
-Ice cream brings people together. I've heard it, I've seen it, I've done it. DQ = U + Me.
-Life's too short. Start packing it in.
-My bed is so much more comfortable if I make it directly before getting into it.
-A little house music never hurt anybody.
-Buying those cheap, often-overlooked flowers at a grocery store can really stand out in your home. Buy a few every visit.
-How great is green grass? Good to see it again.
-Horn honking is discouraged at all times unless it's a means of forewarning.
-I love my family so much.
-If a restaurant uses the word "fusion" to describe their menu does that mean they cook whatever the hell they want?
-Ryan fusion.
-If a lightbulb burns out, please, world, change it immediately. I feel like something bad is going to happen everytime I read "Br_adwa_ Vi_eo. Like Earth is going to implode or something and the burnout is merely a warning. I just had to say that so that it was documented beforehand and perhaps I'll get a purple heart or something.
-Setting up dominoes is so boring. Don't bother.
-I wish I could transfer my thoughts to your head. Things would pick up a lot quicker if I could. There's a specific "your" in this case, it's not you...
-Why is it that I can never get to sleep and then I can never wake up?
-I miss my Mom. She's so everything to me.
Bye.
-Turning 26 is a blessing. Here's to 26 more.
-Organization of a household is so key.
-Tomorrow I'm buying a little blank book to keep my life in order. It'll house everything.
-Love is for the birds. I'm a Bald Eagle.
-Staring is rude. Nervous glances here, there, and everywhere to make it seem like you're not staring is perfectly acceptable though.
-Take the time to listen to new music. It can change you.
-Smiling is so fundamentally, universally appreciated. It too can change everything.
-Ice cream brings people together. I've heard it, I've seen it, I've done it. DQ = U + Me.
-Life's too short. Start packing it in.
-My bed is so much more comfortable if I make it directly before getting into it.
-A little house music never hurt anybody.
-Buying those cheap, often-overlooked flowers at a grocery store can really stand out in your home. Buy a few every visit.
-How great is green grass? Good to see it again.
-Horn honking is discouraged at all times unless it's a means of forewarning.
-I love my family so much.
-If a restaurant uses the word "fusion" to describe their menu does that mean they cook whatever the hell they want?
-Ryan fusion.
-If a lightbulb burns out, please, world, change it immediately. I feel like something bad is going to happen everytime I read "Br_adwa_ Vi_eo. Like Earth is going to implode or something and the burnout is merely a warning. I just had to say that so that it was documented beforehand and perhaps I'll get a purple heart or something.
-Setting up dominoes is so boring. Don't bother.
-I wish I could transfer my thoughts to your head. Things would pick up a lot quicker if I could. There's a specific "your" in this case, it's not you...
-Why is it that I can never get to sleep and then I can never wake up?
-I miss my Mom. She's so everything to me.
Bye.
4.23.2008
4.14.2008
I watched Stephen King's The Mist Saturday night. Now, I rarely watch movies, especially in their entirety, but since I was in Galva for the weekend visiting the fam...and I happened to be in bed by 10:30 pm that night due to the very same reason...I thought, hey, let's get crazy and watch a scary movie.
My Dad warned me that their were "alien themes" in the movie. He knows that I have a love/hate relationship with aliens. I love to think that peaceful aliens exist somewhere in this world because I know we're not alone, but then I hate to think that the stereotypes are true and aliens are horribly vengeful, hungry, and seek forceful universal-domination by any violent means necessary. Freaks my shit.
Sidenote: My sister, her friend, and I all witnessed a UFO sighting a few years back. It was life-changing.
So I watched the movie and the "aliens" weren't that alien-esque. Actually, they were in the fact that they traveled to Earth via an "open window between the universes" or a "rift in time" or something ridiculous like that, but they weren't like...in true alien form. The audience only saw long tentacles, spiders, and huge gnats...stuff like that. It was as if mutant bugs were taking over Earth. Don't get me wrong, it was still bizarre since bugs freak me out in disastrous proportions. I hate them all. Except boxelder bugs. They're really nice and super personable. But back to my point, the "aliens" weren't really aliens. The aliens were more like freaks of nature and a unidentified standing monster that's represented similarly to the huge alien in War of the Worlds. And then there was the eerie, dense mist that sheltered these aliens.
So, throughout the whole movie I had a slightly annoyed feeling because the movie was semi-retarded and the ONE movie I take the time to watch is pretty much a bust. The Mist is a little too typical and too easy: no major character revelations, no major plot details, no real explanations of anything, no set-up strategy, etc. C'mon Stephen...step it up.
And, at the end, the main characters who were adamant about surviving and escaping (the main hero guy, some buxom blonde, the guy's kid, and an elderly couple) just GAVE UP after all of their struggles and victories of outsmarting the aliens. They just drove through the mist in their car, which took them forever to get from the weakening safety of the grocery store to the highly-exposed confines of an old beater SUV, but, as expected, the SUV eventually ran out of gas so they were just like, welp, I guess the only thing we can do now is commit group suicide by being shot in the face. Really? That's it?
Well, there were only 4 bullets and 5 people (which included a 7-yr-old boy) so someone had to be real clever and find another exit strategy. Well the main hero guy gets out of the vehicle after performing horrific euthanasia on the other peeps as a means of saying "Here I am monsters, come and kill me NOW" but unfortunately realizes within seconds after stepping out that HELP WAS ON THE WAY AND THAT THE MIST WAS BEGINNING TO CLEAR AND THAT THE ALIENS HAD BEEN DEFEATED.
Ouch. That sucks for him. He just killed his son via point blank gunshot to the head. It was kind of hard to digest that it really happened. The good guys were so full of despair that they gave up? That's how it all ends? No one else had any other brilliant ideas? If I was in that car, I would have volunteered SOMETHING ELSE. Anything. Anything other than mass suicide. In my mind, I'd be thinking uhhh why not play a trick on the alien like in EVERY OTHER MOVIE? Throw a glass of water on the aliens or start praying to God...something always works.
Nope, not these people. They knew their limits apparently.
So, I guess the main point of the movie was to never give up. Ever. Even when it seems like there are no other solutions. SUICIDE IS NEVER THE SOLUTION PEOPLE, DO YOU GET IT?
I get it. And I like that. It's a really good point.
I'm a survivor, I'm not gon give up, I will work harder, Keep on survivin...
Word to your mother.
My Dad warned me that their were "alien themes" in the movie. He knows that I have a love/hate relationship with aliens. I love to think that peaceful aliens exist somewhere in this world because I know we're not alone, but then I hate to think that the stereotypes are true and aliens are horribly vengeful, hungry, and seek forceful universal-domination by any violent means necessary. Freaks my shit.
Sidenote: My sister, her friend, and I all witnessed a UFO sighting a few years back. It was life-changing.
So I watched the movie and the "aliens" weren't that alien-esque. Actually, they were in the fact that they traveled to Earth via an "open window between the universes" or a "rift in time" or something ridiculous like that, but they weren't like...in true alien form. The audience only saw long tentacles, spiders, and huge gnats...stuff like that. It was as if mutant bugs were taking over Earth. Don't get me wrong, it was still bizarre since bugs freak me out in disastrous proportions. I hate them all. Except boxelder bugs. They're really nice and super personable. But back to my point, the "aliens" weren't really aliens. The aliens were more like freaks of nature and a unidentified standing monster that's represented similarly to the huge alien in War of the Worlds. And then there was the eerie, dense mist that sheltered these aliens.
So, throughout the whole movie I had a slightly annoyed feeling because the movie was semi-retarded and the ONE movie I take the time to watch is pretty much a bust. The Mist is a little too typical and too easy: no major character revelations, no major plot details, no real explanations of anything, no set-up strategy, etc. C'mon Stephen...step it up.
And, at the end, the main characters who were adamant about surviving and escaping (the main hero guy, some buxom blonde, the guy's kid, and an elderly couple) just GAVE UP after all of their struggles and victories of outsmarting the aliens. They just drove through the mist in their car, which took them forever to get from the weakening safety of the grocery store to the highly-exposed confines of an old beater SUV, but, as expected, the SUV eventually ran out of gas so they were just like, welp, I guess the only thing we can do now is commit group suicide by being shot in the face. Really? That's it?
Well, there were only 4 bullets and 5 people (which included a 7-yr-old boy) so someone had to be real clever and find another exit strategy. Well the main hero guy gets out of the vehicle after performing horrific euthanasia on the other peeps as a means of saying "Here I am monsters, come and kill me NOW" but unfortunately realizes within seconds after stepping out that HELP WAS ON THE WAY AND THAT THE MIST WAS BEGINNING TO CLEAR AND THAT THE ALIENS HAD BEEN DEFEATED.
Ouch. That sucks for him. He just killed his son via point blank gunshot to the head. It was kind of hard to digest that it really happened. The good guys were so full of despair that they gave up? That's how it all ends? No one else had any other brilliant ideas? If I was in that car, I would have volunteered SOMETHING ELSE. Anything. Anything other than mass suicide. In my mind, I'd be thinking uhhh why not play a trick on the alien like in EVERY OTHER MOVIE? Throw a glass of water on the aliens or start praying to God...something always works.
Nope, not these people. They knew their limits apparently.
So, I guess the main point of the movie was to never give up. Ever. Even when it seems like there are no other solutions. SUICIDE IS NEVER THE SOLUTION PEOPLE, DO YOU GET IT?
I get it. And I like that. It's a really good point.
I'm a survivor, I'm not gon give up, I will work harder, Keep on survivin...
Word to your mother.
4.10.2008
Maybe it's just me, but I've seen Mariah Carey perform "live" twice on TV and her actual singing voice is just...okay. She performed live on The Hills premiere and then live on Idol last night. Each time it was pretty mediocre, and isn't she supposed to be like some phenomenal singer? I always believed she was, but her recent showmanship is making me believe otherwise.
And...Miley Cyrus. Hmm, where to start. What is her real talent? Why does she exist? Why is she popular? Is it just a kid thing? I don't get it. Her performance on Idol was tragic. Somebody tell her...
PS. Did anyone see Teri Hatcher perform on Idol??? Who the, what the, how the...
And...Miley Cyrus. Hmm, where to start. What is her real talent? Why does she exist? Why is she popular? Is it just a kid thing? I don't get it. Her performance on Idol was tragic. Somebody tell her...
PS. Did anyone see Teri Hatcher perform on Idol??? Who the, what the, how the...
4.09.2008
I somewhat choked on my chicken pita today during lunch. I blame Mezza for making such delicious pitas and I blame myself for not chewing adequately, but I also blame an interesting article I was reading in the newspaper at the time of the choking. It made my mind stir.
So, some lady in Waukegan, IL was thrown in jail after police accused her of 1st degree murder of her six-year-old daughter. As first reported, the mother, I'll call her Suzy, told the police that her daughter, whom she believed was "possessed" and therefore I will refer to her as Samara, jumped into her bed and tried to slash her throat with a butcher knife. Suzy managed to wrestle the knife away and then stabbed Samara repeatedly in self-defense.
However, Suzy's story later changed. After several rounds of interrogation, Suzy then said that she had woken up in the middle of the night for some strange reason and went to Samara's bedroom to check on her. When she opened the door, she saw Samara awake in bed with a butcher knife. Samara then attacked Suzy to which, again, Suzy ended up getting the knife and stabbed Samara repeatedly.
The article also reveals that before the incident, Suzy underwent psychological testing and was found not to be mentally disturbed, depressed, diseased, or historically violent. But who makes an appointment to voluntarily undergo psychological testing? Maybe I should check into that...
Anyway, while it's a very sad story since, obviously, any sane person would have a hard time believing the child was possessed but rather a silent victim of abuse. However, a part of me sees this case as something plausible: a possessed child that tries to kill their parents, but when the parents fight off their demonic child they're accused of murder? Such movie-material, I know, but let's not forget that demonic possession is qualified by the Roman Catholic Church as a real, documented occurrence in some individuals. So, could this be an actual case of demonic possession? Is the mother the real victim and the daughter actually tried to kill her via a possessed soul?
I mean, I know the mother is to blame for killing her innocent child, but a small part of me is intrigued about what might have happened.
After all, about 90% of me believes in demonic possession, but this is coming from a person who still thinks inanimate objects come to life when I'm not around. Every winter I put a blanket over my stuff animals that are stored in my parents' attic because I know how chilly it gets up there.
So, some lady in Waukegan, IL was thrown in jail after police accused her of 1st degree murder of her six-year-old daughter. As first reported, the mother, I'll call her Suzy, told the police that her daughter, whom she believed was "possessed" and therefore I will refer to her as Samara, jumped into her bed and tried to slash her throat with a butcher knife. Suzy managed to wrestle the knife away and then stabbed Samara repeatedly in self-defense.
However, Suzy's story later changed. After several rounds of interrogation, Suzy then said that she had woken up in the middle of the night for some strange reason and went to Samara's bedroom to check on her. When she opened the door, she saw Samara awake in bed with a butcher knife. Samara then attacked Suzy to which, again, Suzy ended up getting the knife and stabbed Samara repeatedly.
The article also reveals that before the incident, Suzy underwent psychological testing and was found not to be mentally disturbed, depressed, diseased, or historically violent. But who makes an appointment to voluntarily undergo psychological testing? Maybe I should check into that...
Anyway, while it's a very sad story since, obviously, any sane person would have a hard time believing the child was possessed but rather a silent victim of abuse. However, a part of me sees this case as something plausible: a possessed child that tries to kill their parents, but when the parents fight off their demonic child they're accused of murder? Such movie-material, I know, but let's not forget that demonic possession is qualified by the Roman Catholic Church as a real, documented occurrence in some individuals. So, could this be an actual case of demonic possession? Is the mother the real victim and the daughter actually tried to kill her via a possessed soul?
I mean, I know the mother is to blame for killing her innocent child, but a small part of me is intrigued about what might have happened.
After all, about 90% of me believes in demonic possession, but this is coming from a person who still thinks inanimate objects come to life when I'm not around. Every winter I put a blanket over my stuff animals that are stored in my parents' attic because I know how chilly it gets up there.
4.06.2008
A news brief in The Onion hit me between the eyes. Wait a sec, did I write this article? Is this article about me? Do I work for The Onion? It's basically my life via peeping tom with a high-power zoom lens and hidden voice recorder.
Weird. Anyway, this is a worthwhile read:
Computer Being Stupid
Cambridge, MA-- After multiple attempts to get the thing to do the thing, 38-year-old freelance writer Ryan Sumner gave up Saturday, citing the fact that his stupid computer was too dumb to print something as simple as a travel itinerary. The computer, a Powerbook something with some kind of core that does this every single time, reportedly refused to just tell the printer to print even after Sumner spent a full 10 minutes yelling at it. "Why won't you just help me out here?!" Sumner asked his computer after it started beeping at him, just to rub it in. "I checked your nums lock already, and that's not it. What's the matter with you! I hate you." Although the computer will likely go on being retarded forever, Sumner refused to call tech support to resolve the problem, claiming they're all "Wha, wha, wha," and saying a bunch of stuff he doesn't even know what.
Weird. Anyway, this is a worthwhile read:
Computer Being Stupid
Cambridge, MA-- After multiple attempts to get the thing to do the thing, 38-year-old freelance writer Ryan Sumner gave up Saturday, citing the fact that his stupid computer was too dumb to print something as simple as a travel itinerary. The computer, a Powerbook something with some kind of core that does this every single time, reportedly refused to just tell the printer to print even after Sumner spent a full 10 minutes yelling at it. "Why won't you just help me out here?!" Sumner asked his computer after it started beeping at him, just to rub it in. "I checked your nums lock already, and that's not it. What's the matter with you! I hate you." Although the computer will likely go on being retarded forever, Sumner refused to call tech support to resolve the problem, claiming they're all "Wha, wha, wha," and saying a bunch of stuff he doesn't even know what.
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