The Woes of Trendiness

I despise trendiness. The meaning of the word has a built-in illegitimacy to it that I can’t stand. It takes functionality out of certain equations. I cannot say honestly that I have never been prone to its catching lure. Again, the term is dishonest. The idea is veiled in a shroud of mystery regarding its motives and definition.
What makes something “trendy”? How does something fall from its trendiness throne? Why do we even care what other people deem to be “in”? Hell, a lot of the time these things are so fleeting that in the grand scheme of things they are blip on the radar. I believe trendiness stems from the earliest days of TV and movies. They were the first visual mass media that was so easily seen by the entire world. Unknowingly they were determinging the likes and dislikes of many many people in the process. The aspects of dress, cars, and even ideals. These things have only been magnified steadily in the last 50 years. Prior to that you could probably trace trendiness back to royalty in Euorpe. Everyone wanted to be like the Queen or King. They were seen as the epitome of social virtues and everything else that went along with those things.
Trendiness is basically an extension of a human’s subconscious need to conform. Sure, there are all types of people, many of which, may even be individuals. For the most part people who think that they are automonous for all practical purposes are not. Their choices of what to wear, what to drive or what to think are dictated or influenced directly by mass media and culture. I don’t think this is escapable in today’s world, unless you live under a rock or 3rd world country (n.b. have you ever known anyone to actually live under a rock? Does the phrases come from caveman days where people could still live under rock?)
We care about trendiness because you want to be cool and have the newest crap. Do you need a new cell phone when your “old” one is a mere 4 months dated? Does the new one make you any less annoying when it rings during class? I think not. What about those UGGs? Oh yes, I’m going there.
Uggs started out as being practical as some trends tend to do, because they are comfortable and warm for the winter; two great things for a boot to be. The UGGy people could do no wrong. Until fashionistas got a hold of them. They, and their mutations, are hotter than your mom used to be before she had you. They’re colored, short, tall, furry, not furry, etc. The scariest version are the ones that look like Big Foot/Sasquatch’s feet were cut off, gutted, stuffed, and priced at a cool $110. They are ridiculous looking. Even more interesting is when girls at the cusp of spring wear the boots with really short skirts. If there is a more confusing fashion outfit I can’t think of it. Are you hot or cold? Obviously a part of you is really hot because your calves to your upper thigh are exposed; yet from your ankles down your feet are suffering from frostbite. Don’t get me wrong, I really like the miniskirt and think it’s a little slice of heaven for those that can pull it off.
All I’m saying is to think about practicality versus trendiness. Are you wearing or thinking things because you believe in them or because you saw them on TV? I’d like to think that somewhere there is a balance. Spending a few hundred dollars on accessories seems excessive unless they are going to last “forever”. You should make an investment in trendiness. If something is really cool right now, think rationally about whether it’s going to last.
You may be asking, “who determines when something is no longer trendy?” I often wonder the same thing, which is why I will try and answer for you. I decide. Just kidding. Everyone knows I wish slap bracelets were still trendy, but alas those were the days. I think things fall from the Trendy Tree when people find something that is newer and “cooler”. Everyone is always looking for the epitome of cool, but trendiness is fleeting, which is why classics are transcendent.

Short Story: Truck Driver

this is a short story i wrote as a creative writing assignment....there may be some mistakes and will edit it more when i get the chance....hope you enjoy...also, it's kinda long....

As Adam lay in bed feeling sorry for himself his doctors announced an unexpected visitor. This new person was a visiting medical student looking at potential hospitals for residency. It was a coincidence and surprise to Adam that the doctor had guided her into his room. Adam gave a vague gesture of hello as they approached his bed. The normal pleasantries were exchanged and she introduced herself as a student at UPenn Medical school. Even Adam could tell that she was more than a little stressed out. She asked what had happened to him. It was the first time someone else would hear his story. She sat down on the edge of the bed and he closed his eyes ever so slowly. He hated recounting the details of the accident as he already did it over and over again in his dreams. The sudden loud noises, lights, rain….The medical student noticed Adam’s EKG machine as his heart quickened and his hands trembled with sweat.
As he told the story in grandiose detail she became a little uncomfortable and tried to change the subject. She had noticed on the chart that he was a junior in high school and asked how his applications were going. Adam told her of his worries and plight and she told him that she was once exactly where he was. Once these words came out of her mouth she thought to herself that in fact, she had never been exactly where he was. Whereas Adam had survived a brutal car wreck and would go on to do whatever he wanted even if it seemed impossible. It was in her description of sympathy that she all of a sudden became acutely aware of her own life. She thought to herself how lucky Adam was to have survived such an accident and be so brave. They continued to chat about their families and lives until the doctor explained to her that there was much more to see around the building. They each offered sincere good-byes and in they marveled at the feeling when they shook hands that they both had an overwhelming feeling that anything was possible.
As she continued her tour she could not stop harping on Adam’s case. She inquired to his doctor about the circumstances. He explained just how lucky Adam had been, and to think he’d be able to try walking more than the length of the hallway in another month was remarkable.
Somewhere along the line Adam had to come to grips with it: his different appearance after the accident. He never saw it coming, mainly because he fell asleep at the wheel, and it was rainy. He always wanted to take on someone bigger than himself, just not an 18-wheeler. Adam was lucky to survive, but it was not without a fight. He stayed in the hospital bed for nearly a month. The first several weeks with all sorts of tubes and wires coming from places that even I could not figure out.
Before the accident Adam was a semi-normal kid. Liked to play sports, and pretty much got along well with everyone, except for those “weird” kids. They were not that weird and were probably very nice, just that something was a little bit off, like they lacked social consciousness, or they tried too hard to be considered different or something. He was an interloper between all the different cliques and looked forward to the day he would get to leave high school for good, but that meant getting into a good college. The process of which was the bane of his existence that is until the accident nearly took it.
He was still growing his auburn hair back after they shaved it off to stitch his head where glass had lacerated the scalp. Somehow he managed to receive two black eyes and a fat lip. Normally, he was a well-put together guy who tended to wear Diesel jeans, Puma sneakers, and a Brooks Brothers polo. Now, he could barely feed himself. The nurse or his mother would come in around mealtime and help him sit up because he could not easily do so with a broken leg suspended from the ceiling. The tray of less than desirable food was rolled over next to the bed to reveal a smorgasbord of food that needed little chewing and had even less taste. The best things were apple juice and red jello. He remembered the days when his dad would put a plate of his mother’s homemade apple strudel next to him and nudge him to fix his essays. Adam felt so helpless lying there; having his mom spoon-feed him like he was less than a year old again. She would even take a scoop of mashed potatoes and do the annoying airplane trick, “Potatoes requesting permission for landing in the mouth…here they come…” He really did not have much of an appetite and would get through some of the plate, but usually it just looked like things had been pushed around to make it look like he had eaten his vegetables.
On that helpless night Adam had been hanging out with his girlfriend at her house. She didn’t live nearby; in fact, she was just under an hour away (depending on how close to a speeding ticket you wanted to travel). He wasn’t planning on seeing her that night but a fight had erupted between him and his father about college applications and how if he didn’t work on them bit by bit and left them to the last minute he wouldn’t get into school, wouldn’t have a life and certainly wouldn’t want to get a job and pay rent to his parents. This was all absurd to Adam, who was a bright kid but didn’t like to flaunt it, and actually had done more with those dumb common applications than his dad knew, but that wasn’t the point. He needed some sort of release from being somewhat sheltered. At the zenith of the disagreement, where hearts were racing, fists clenched, and voices near screaming, Adam speed-walked to the front door of the house and slammed the door behind him. He was in his car before the screen door had closed entirely.
Initially, he thought he’d just go for a ride. Driving had always been a remedy for clearing his mind. He usually put something hard or angry on the cd player but this time wanted something to lighten his mood and senses. Nothing accomplished this feet better than Mason Jennings. Adam sang along to the line he liked the most, “If you fall in love, then you should jump right in”. Adam had a girlfriend but in the back recesses of his consciousness he kind of knew it wouldn’t last much more than maybe a year. Maybe it was that every phone call was like extracting teeth, or perhaps it was that every Hanukkah while he got her expensive engraved jewelry she got him a gift certificate to Gap.
He wouldn’t meet the love of his life till senior year of college. Yeah they got along great, shared similar interests, but there was no spark of connection. She always seemed a bit distant. As if she wasn’t totally in the relationship. She didn’t do much for him in the way of surprise gifts for no particular reason. It just seemed like she only thought about him when they were side-by-side. Whereas Adam felt like he loved her, he gave all of himself to her and usually brushed aside the negative. Always giving excuses to her to use as to why they couldn’t hang out, or why she refused to be kissed in public places. He would be lucky to hold her hand walking to the same class. Still, in this time of need he had a vague idea that she could console him, plus he had barely seen her that week. So, on his whimsical drive of singing alone with Mason he started in the direction of her house. Why he thought her parents would be happy to see him was a joke. They weren’t mean, but they were extremely protective of their youngest princess. Last time he was there her father asked him every question a overbearing father might including, “when was the last time you put air in your tires? Have you ever had an alcoholic beverage? What are your intentions with my daughter?” Adam soon learned that each question was a lesson in misdirection.
As Adam’s car rolled into the top of her long circular driveway he noticed most of the house lights were out. Not a good sign. Were they out for the evening? Why didn’t he call first? Were they just watching a movie? When would they be back? Should he stay and wait? Where would he go in the mean time?
Adam sat up in the hospital bed with a start one morning. The nurse promptly was by his bedside since he had had another one of those painful dreams where you scream and wake yourself up. He had a dream about the accident that should have taken his life. What would his parents have done? How would his funeral have gone? Did people know him in one of the many cliques of the high school enough to given him a truly honest eulogy? How would his siblings cope? All of these hypothetical questions ran through his head and he questioned himself as a person. He had to change. He was not yet happy with himself. His orchestra teacher knew this about him.
For no reason at all besides self-confidence his teacher came to the hospital and gave him Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet as a source of guidance and meditation. This gift seemed to be some sort of premonition. As he read a certain concept stuck with him: “We know little, but that we must trust in what is difficult is a certainty that will never abandon us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it”. Adam had the feeling he did not need to be with Emma and that better things awaited him, but it was the idea of being with someone that currently made him so happy, not always the person he was with. Adam had read all the letters in a couple hours. At the conclusion he could already feel a shift in outlook. He was more confident in himself and decided to change other things he did not like about himself while he had some more time on his hands. He would be released from the hospital in another week and would then try to piece together his academic senior year. Other teachers had sent notes with sympathy and understanding, so Adam felt a little better about tackling all his work and missed time. Even his stickler father was happy that his son was all in one piece. After all the admissions offices would surely take some sympathy for an upstanding kid that had gotten into a terrible car crash in the fall of his senior year. All he could do was think about that evening.
On that fateful night Adam gathered the courage to park his car at the top of his girlfriend’s circular driveway and go knock at the front door. He unbuckled his seatbelt with a calm click. He turned off the Mason Jennings playing from the CD player. Then fully shut off the car by turning the key quickly toward him. He disengaged the key from the ignition and gathered his belongings in his pockets: cell phone in the left front, keys in the front right and wallet in the back right pocket. He got out of the car and closed the door behind him gently, but hard enough that it latched. Adam took the steps on the brick walkway up to the front door surrounded by four Roman columns. He stood in front of the door and rang the doorbell. He waited anxiously. No one came quickly. He began to think about walking back to the car and finding some place else to journey. Just then, he heard heavy footsteps coming toward the front door. The door opened and sure enough it was her father dressed in pinstripe suit pants, wingtips, white shirt and red power-tie slightly loosened at the Windsor knot. This was casual for him. That was only the beginning of the intimidating part.
“What can I do for you Adam? It’s rather late for a visit.” Her father remarked condescendingly.
Adam fidgeted and finally said, “Well, sir, I was hoping that Emma was available. I just had a fight with my dad and was feeling the need to talk with her face-to-face. Is she around?”
With more condescension came, “Yes she’s around. But why should I let you in to see her?”
“I’ve really had a rough day sir, and would greatly appreciate a calming and comforting ear to listen.”
Relenting he said, “Alright. Take your shoes off here and leave them next to the door.”
Adam entered the house with some reluctance. The foyer was bigger than Adam’s living room. From the ceiling hung a Waterford chandelier that was imported from Ireland. The stairway up to the second floor hallway was a semi-circle that could be walked up from the right or left side of the hallway. When he walked underneath the archway of the stairway and looked back over his shoulder up to the balcony that could view the family sitting area. He made himself at home on one of the large, plush suede couches in front of the 48” plasma TV which was hanging like a piece of artwork from the wall. Adam could never take in enough of Emma’s house. There was more money spent in one room than there was in half his house. This was in the state-of-the art stereo, the ornate oriental rugs, the always ready for company china and silver in the dining room, and other such opulent things that made the house seem more like a museum. Even the refrigerator made Adam feel inferior; it had a built-in Brita and 6” TV screen so no moment of her father’s sports were missed on the weekends. Emma appeared looking over the balcony and quickly asked Adam what was so urgent that he had to come all the way out to her house to see her. This was not the greeting he wanted, but in the back of his mind he had come to expect it somehow.
Adam explained what had happened at home and Emma could sense his anger and angst. She was not sure what to do. Emma was a pretty enough girl. She was above average female height, possessed dark auburn hair mixed with bright green eyes. In addition, she was in good shape since she played volleyball. She definitely would kick Adam’s butt at most athletic activities except for golf. Emma always had straight A’s but never seemed to try very hard to get them, which Adam resented just a tad. She could do all her homework in a lunch period and not suffer. She never needed to copy others’ work and never allowed hers to be handed out as a guide. After taking the SATs she came out of the test “refreshed” and “ready to go do something totally fun, like bowling”. When the time came to apply for college she pretty much had her pick of the top tier colleges. On this particular evening she was actually working hard at securing another ‘A’ on a Spanish project. Needless to say she was a little on edge. She consoled Adam, and told him it would all be ok, etc. Adam refused to take this advice. Something came over him that made him say what would next come out of his mouth.
“What if it’s not ok? What if I don’t get into college? Can you be so sure? Why aren’t you looking at schools near where I may go? Do you think we could stay together through college or is this not as serious as I am making it out to be? I refuse to believe you really care at the moment….sorry hon, so sorry, I’m just really upset right now. Maybe I better go. What do you want me to do?”
Emma replied succinctly: “I’m sorry too, please just leave. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She mutely showed Adam to his sneakers, and the door. She didn’t say goodnight, just shut the door as Adam continued to try to apologize profusely. He got into his car and sat idle in the driver’s seat while the car warmed up, and the windows defogged contemplating his future and if love really existed or if it was just a cliché.
It was finally time for Adam to go home from his hospital bed and try to resume life as planned. He still walked gingerly to his parents’ car with each parental unit on either side of him the entire way down the hall, into the elevator, through the automatic doors and out into the parking lot. It would be the first time he had seen his house in what seemed like an eternity. He could not wait to crawl back into his own queen-sized bed under his down comforter and forget about the world, or just watch ESPN until his eyes fell out. Both were possibilities that materialized faster than his mom could make him his favorite sandwich for lunch. But the freedom would be over after the weekend as Adam was expected back in school on that Monday.
Most days his mother now drove Adam to school. Since the family with three drivers was down to two cars now. As Adam got out of the car and walked through the front doors into the main hallway he did not know what to expect. He had perfect dreams where he’d be welcomed back with trumpets blaring and cheerleaders throwing themselves at his feet as a mass of people chanted his name. The antithesis of this dream also occurred where in fact he walked into school and everyone had forgotten him and even his teachers asked what his name was, and had to go the principal’s office to explain. But neither of these visions came to fruition as his best two friends greeted him.
They updated him on all the gossip they knew about and some they hadn’t yet gotten all the details from yet. It was just then, that in passing he caught site of a bulletin board that was dedicated to his crash and news thereof for as long as it was reported. The top headline read, “Truck Crunches Student, truck driver dead”. It was in this moment that he found out for the first time and recalled the metal on metal. Crunching, crumpling and crinkling, with a bang that could have started the solar system. Adam had wondered why everyone kept saying he was a miracle and so lucky. Now, in a weird way, he felt guilty.

Political Correctness?

Originally written Sept. 22, 2005

Do you ever get tired of trying to pigeonhole people or things with too many adjectives that perfectly describe that particular article or thing? I am referring to the idea of Political Correctness. Frankly, I think we’re a nation that tries to be right all the time and sometimes it’s okay to call things as you see them. Obviously, I would never suggest being derogatory for the sake of being mean, but shouldn’t the line be slightly different? I want to call people “short” not “vertically height challenged.” In the same sense I call people “fat” when their ass doesn’t fit a standard size seat, not “overweight.” All right, that last one is a little mean, but you can’t deny that you don’t do the same thing.
At the heart of political correctness are race, and its description thereof. Such as African American, Caucasian, Latin American, Eskimo, Asian American, et al. Now, when I was taking standardized tests I always felt weird bubbling in ‘Caucasian’. I do not really know why except for that fact that, yeah I’m white, but I also get a good tan in the summers, and I took five years of Spanish in high school so, I don’t know. Call me crazy, but so long as the terms ‘Black’, ‘White’ ‘Latino’, ‘Asian’ and ‘Sled-dog Racer’ are not used in a derogatory manner people should not be offended. In terms of color I think there is an obvious scapegoat that has, until now, been overlooked because a shrewd marketing front. That pure evil of which I speak is none other than Crayola and their diabolical 64 box of crayons.
Things were so much easier in elementary school before boxes of color were larger than twelve. Think about it. You used to ask for: black, grey, red, blue, green, orange, purple, yellow, etc. But now, you have to stoop to their level and can no longer just find ‘red’. You have to be way more specific such as, ‘blood red’ or ‘plague of the Egyptians from the bible red’. Another example would be ‘green’ and now it has to be ‘forest green’ or ‘midnight in the Garden of Eden green’. What happens when it’s winter in New Hampshire and the trees are covered with snow and you can’t see any green? Or you’ve never seen blood before?
Maybe I am overly concerned with these semantics because I’m an English major and some words say different things to me and love to get tangled up in them. Or maybe I just sometimes get fed up with people dancing around things because they are worried about offending a little old lady in Nebraska. Or quite possibly I just want call things as I see them sometimes while not being nasty about it. Any way you shake it political correctness has become way too correct. We are America, we love getting things wrong, so we should take some of this right and put it towards other places that aren’t quite correct yet.

Magnetic Ribbons

Originally written Sept. 9, 2005

Firstly, it’s great to be back writing on American soil; home of the free, brave, and readily available internet. Next, raise your hand if you hate all those magnetic ribbons on cars. Alright, now that the hand count is over, is there anything more annoying than these false symbols of patriotism, slogans, and political correctness?
I am all for patriotism, and greatly appreciate the freedom I am given here, but aren’t certain things just gaudy and over the top? Here in the States it’s not enough to just feel strongly about your country, you have to let everyone else possible know your stance on troops, to abortion, to autism, to breast cancer. Is it necessary to reaffirm each of these views to the public eye, on your car no less? Patriotism is something I look at very differently since studying abroad in Ireland last spring. Abroad everyone loves their country and has unrelenting pride. They also don’t need to advertise it, because it is unanimously felt wherever you may land. On the other hand, here in the States vast numbers of people feel it necessary to display their pride and patriotism on their sleeves or their cars, primarily because there is not a better status symbol in America than the good ‘ol automobile.
Does it say one thing if you drive a BMW SUV and not have one of these ribbons? What does it mean if you drive a 1990 Dodge Stratus and have a pink breast cancer magnet near your gas tank? Is it terribly wrong of me that I don’t want to pay $2 for a magnet where the money goes to some marketing genius’ back pocket and not to the cause that it should? Frankly, I think Americans in general just try to hard. We can’t let our actions speak for us. We have to let anyone and everyone know how we feel. This is probably due to the fact we have free speech and are encouraged to speak our minds in any direction we feel fit. Although I would not exchange free speech for anything, I feel like there are much better ways and actions about being heard and seen. In some regards, these potential actions would have a huge effect on the issues that are displayed on our cars.
Instead of proudly displaying that you “support our troops” why not start a conversation about it, or help a local recruiting agency. If we jump in the Way Back machine to 2001 and remember how sales of American flags shot up after 9/11 this is almost the same epidemic. Also, who does not support our troops? Yeah, you may not agree with what is going on in Iraq, but no one in their right mind would say they want to see American troops die in combat, that is simply foolish. The yellow ribbons are more of a political statement and are just redundant. Let me know when you see ribbons saying, “boycott our troops.” Good to be back. Cheers.

Internet Usage

Originally written March 14, 2005

You have no idea how dependant you are on the internet at school until you’re thrust into a situation in which it’s not at your fingertips 24/7. I am in such a position here in Ireland. I can honestly say that I have a problem. I am addicted to the Internet. This may not seem abnormal, but trust me it is. The internet offered in my flat is dial-up and extremely expensive. How can I justify paying for, and using crappy internet when I could just as easily get off my ass and walk up to campus.
Using the internet on campus is not like using it at F&M. It is not for lack of resources. I think it is because as yuppy Americans we are used to it. We would rather communicate with people online than talking to them on the phone or go see them. I am not talking in absolutes, but generally. How many times have you IMed someone on your same hall, let alone next door to ask what they are doing? Here at University College Cork there are a couple computer labs. At certain times during the day there is at least a 30 minute wait to use a computer. There is no time limit for usage. The library closes at around 9:30pm and the only other computer option is closed at 11:30pm. That’s right no free internet past 11:30pm. No drunken conversations at 3am. No coordinating plans without texting on a mobile phone.
I come back to my main point of how I am unknowingly addicted to the internet. On days when class ends early, I can easily sit in front of a computer screen online for a few hours at any time. I should be reading. I should be taking in more sights. I should be doing anything else. But, sometimes I can’t help myself. I need to check my e-mail incessantly to see if anyone has written me a note letting me know they haven’t forgotten about me. I know people have not forgotten about me. That is not the point. I just need that confirmation. Maybe that is just a personal insecurity. I’m okay with that. I like to keep in touch with the people I care about and miss most.
I guess the point I am trying to make is that there could not be a truer statement that you do not fully appreciate what you have until you don’t have it anymore. I remember having the internet go down on campus for a couple hours and thinking I was going to have a heart attack. Everyone does it. Don’t deny it. You need to check away messages. You need to check your favorite websites every 5 minutes to see if anything has changed. You need to be in touch with “the world” as you know it. You might be asking yourself what you should do instead of surfing the internet aimlessly. I am not going to tell you to read or do school work, or even to go outside and play with the kids. Rather, call your friends. Hang out with them. Have somewhat meaningful conversations. Learn more about the people around you. So what if you live across the quad from them. I love it here but, I would exchange a 5 minute walk across F&M for my current 15 minute walk, 30 minute wait and 5 hour time difference to chat with friends.

Facebook

Originally written Feb. 3, 2005

I have 257 friends. I talk to, maybe, 43 of them. I am a member of 8 groups with names such as: "I like to Watch People Sleep," "In AA and Proud of It," and my personal favorite, "Brad Pitt Fan Club who went to Public High School." If you haven't already figured it out i am alluding to the craze that is sweeping ours and many other college campuses: The Facebook.
This psuedo-community has its up and down sides. First the good things it has going for it. It allows users to see other people's friends which is kinda neat. It also lets you connect with people from your classes that you may not know and secretly harbour a crush on. Allows people to find other people that have similar interests, whatever they may be. Basically, you can find out things about a person without having to actually interact with them at all. Essentially, it allows people another way to lose more social tact. So, the next time you see a 'friend' you can say, "Hey, I love The Three Little Pigs, too!" (sorry to slip into the 'bad'...this is the 'good' paragraph) Again it is a great way to connect with people you dont see on a regular basis, etc. Since im studying abroad this semester it gives me an alternative to keep in touch with people which is nice. It also gives me a way to stay 'in the loop' when i can't use Instant Messanger. Although it could be argued that i could just as easily e-mail people. But, I try and use both to cover all my bases.
The bad and ugly part of this website/service are a few things. Like typical social activity it is a way to establish who is the most popular. Who can collect the most friends. Who knows the most people. Who knows more people outside of their own school. How many groups can you be a part. It also is a great way to stalk people without them knowing. I can find screen names to people i have never even met. It's great. I have an infatuation with someone i can spy on them. Create a special screen name and send them cryptic messages online. It also can be a competition to who can find the funniest, weirdest, dumbest picture of themselves to display to the outside world. The best part is that it can be a picture of anything. Well, pretty much anything. Another annoying thing about this is getting 8 emails a day telling me someone wants to be my friend. I got a few the other day from kids i went to high school with and haven't seen let alone spoken to in 3 years. Not because i am a bad friend, but because generally when you go away to college, you make new friends and keep in touch with a select few from high school. But honestly, what is the point of requesting to be 'friends' with someone you havent talked to in so long?
Essentially, the bad parts add up to be a superficiality/degeneration/trivialization of the term 'friendship'. That is my main complaint. Like many things that the internet has brought about it is all in how you use or abuse the service. It's up to you, but if you want to be my friend try talking or communicating with me more than once every 3 years.

Why Are People Morons?

Originally written Dec. 6, 2004


Being at a liberal arts college you would think intellectual students that are smart and intelligent in most capacities would surround you. This idea has come into question after the recent string of fire alarms and fire extinguisher discharges in the South Ben dormitory.
I submit that on the whole, kids at F&M care about one another. But then, there are some that have no common sense or decency, and therefore should either be wiped from the gene pool or dismissed from school due to their constant interruptions to the liberal arts learning environment. Personally, I think something evil and cruel done to them would be most funny and appropriate (long walk off a short pier with cement shoes). But, to be the bigger person you never want to stoop to their inconceivably low level of disrespect.
Honestly, who thinks to themselves: “Golly, it’s 1:32am, sounds like a good time to grab that red fire extinguisher, pull out the nice little safety pin and go buck-wild with it. Not only will everyone have to come out of the dorms, but they will have to stay outside or find someplace to be for the next four hours.” What makes this scenario even better is the recent key fob debacle. So kids, where are you going to go when your trusty fob does not let you into any other building but your own? Where are you going to go when in a sleeping stupor you forgot your trusty student directory to call a friend on a cool yellow callbox? Where are you going to go when every other campus building is closed? Where are you going to go for 4 hours when it is cold, wet and rainy outside? The obvious answer to all of these could be your girl- or boyfriend’s place. But are you really rude or desperate enough that you’d bang on their window or call them when you know they have to be up at 8am for class? I tend to think not; unless you are one of the inconsiderate morons of which I speak of above.
So, in conclusion, although there is nothing that we as smart liberal arts students can do to inflict pain and suffering on unknown people, we are left to “police ourselves”. Good thing this idea is only good in theory. When in actuality, if kids were brought up to be smart and courteous there would not be such problems. And if you want to throw in excuses of possible intoxication or substance abuse, you too should be categorized as someone that not only has no common decency but also is a complete waste of space. Finally, as I have noticed: stupidity cannot really be helped, but common sense should be taught as a class.