Level Up
In a role-playing video game (RPG), there are usually a couple ways to go about completing the quest you're given to save the world. This type of genre focuses not on reaction speed or play mechanics so much as macro and micro-based strategies in and out of combat. "Macro" refers to how you set up your team of typically medieval-type wanderers. Do you take four wizards, two knights and two wizards, a couple of thieves, or some other arrangement? "Micro" refers to how you command your characters in combat. Do you go for all-out physical damage, lots of magic boosts for fighters, a magical apocalypse in every fight, or some other type of strategy?
The one aspect of RPG's that has survived over twenty years of game development, however, is the idea of leveling. Each character is granted a "level," usually a numerical representation of his or her strength and abilities. A character at level 1 has just started the game; a character at level 70 is usually a death machine. "Leveling" is the intentional development of character levels on behalf of the player. In many RPG's, this refers to spending time wandering around and fighting extra monsters, giving your characters extra experience and thus extra levels to make them stronger.
When it comes to leveling, I believe there are three basic strategies that many players try to follow. These are outlined below and are especially applicable to the "old school" game series, such as Dragon Warrior or Final Fantasy:
1. Speed Demon: Blow through the game like you don't have the time to even be playing it in the first place. Never spend time gaining experience points or gold, and avoid the best equipment at all costs. If you're not pushing forward in the plot, you're not having fun. Side quests are just that- optional side quests which should never distract you from the more important journey you're on to save the world.
Pros: This is easily one of the most challenging ways to take on these games, because many of them were designed to incorporate at least some degree of character building. If you get your highs off of being near death constantly and barely squeaking through even the easiest missions, though, this track is for you. As said before, you'll also be avoiding those painful hours of leveling and equipment searching.
Cons: Difficulty in this strategy can approach epic proportions to the point of impossibility. The risks you run, especially toward the end of the game if you haven't done any of the side quests, are sometimes suicidal. You are literally flying by the seat of your pants, casting first-grade fire spells against an ice juggernaut in the final dungeon. Godspeed.
2. Balanced Play: You spend some time leveling up, you get pretty good weapons and armor, you do a couple of side quests, and at the end of the game you find yourself in some danger but not huge amounts of it. This is how many game programmers originally designed their quests: to be played with an eye of character development but without having to spend hours between plot points making sure your characters were top notch warriors.
Pros: If done correctly, can offer an excellent balance of risk and reward. You don't sacrifice hours of your life, but at the same time you can push forward at a fairly good pace without dying every couple of fights.
Cons: Still requires leveling at some points in the game, and still results in you getting thrashed at least once or twice. You also have to spend more time than in the Speed Demon version, but less time than the last option.
3. Level Juggernaught: You live, eat, and breathe leveling. There's nothing you enjoy more than walking around outside each and every castle or fort, getting incrementally stronger and saving up for that sword that gives you a marginal +35 attack instead of +33 like the next cheapest version. Hours and hours of your time pass by as your wizard learns "Death Inferno" before you've even taken on the first dungeon. A side quest is not a side quest but a test of your manhood. You will leave no stone unturned in your hunt for the best weapons, armor, and magic. As a result of this behavior, any team you field in indomitable, and if you pick the optimal team (tank, brawler, healer, blaster)- guess what? The final boss of the game won't be able to scratch your shield. Even those "extra hard" Japanese-only bosses will be little more than a prolonged skirmish.
Pros: You run absolutely no risk. None. Your characters are so overly powerful and well equipped at each point in the game that, by the time you finally move forward in the plot, the regular enemies can't touch you. Hell, a nuclear bomb couldn't touch you by the time you're done. So every time you walk into a dungeon or boss fight, you know the outcome. Swift, undeniable victory.
Cons: As a result of your OCD leveling, there is almost no challenge left in the game at all. If anything, you may become so bored and jaded by that lack of risk that you stop playing the game before the end, because you know you'll destroy everything in your path until the quest is over anyway. Even worse, this type of gameplay can tack on a shitload of hours onto your overall play time ... not just 3-4 hours, but 20-30. Don't you have a life somewhere else?
The reason I've written this blog entry is because I've been thinking about how these strategies are a reflection of a player's overall personality. Some people just blow through things, others spend way to much time on them, and some people know the balance they need to be happy. Looking at this from another perspective, some people run lots of risk in the things they do, while others like to eliminate risk from any decision they make or any venture they pursue.
For as long as I can remember, I've been in one of these distinct classes of strategists in RPG's, and in life. Can you guess which one?
Happy winter break.
December 28, 2007
December 11, 2007
Photo Finish
We're down to the wire:
-Christmas Shopping
-Graduate Applications
-Pick up ICWE Music
-Pick up IBE presentation reviews
-Submit IBE final deliverables
-Write scholarship donor letters
-Submit resident check-out roster
-Make NSCS Red Cross donation
-Aerodynamics project
-Controls Final
-Aero Final
-Mechanics Final
-Clean the kitchen of 467
And we're done.
By the way ... I think I lost my glasses. If anyone finds them, let me know.
Happy Finals.
We're down to the wire:
-Christmas Shopping
-Graduate Applications
-Pick up ICWE Music
-Pick up IBE presentation reviews
-Submit IBE final deliverables
-Write scholarship donor letters
-Submit resident check-out roster
-Make NSCS Red Cross donation
-Aerodynamics project
-Controls Final
-Aero Final
-Mechanics Final
-Clean the kitchen of 467
And we're done.
By the way ... I think I lost my glasses. If anyone finds them, let me know.
Happy Finals.
December 05, 2007
Stolen from the Blog of George Hopkins ...
... who stole it from the New York Times. The below article outlines the societal and personal implications of perfectionism and how they relate to mental health.
Fun reading for this week :)
December 4, 2007
Mind Unhappy? Self-Critical? Maybe You’re Just a Perfectionist
By BENEDICT CAREY
"Just about any sports movie, airport paperback or motivational tape delivers a few boilerplate rules for success. Believe in yourself. Don’t take no for an answer. Never quit. Don’t accept second best.
Above all, be true to yourself.
It’s hard to argue with those maxims. They seem self-evident — if not written into the Constitution, then at least part of the cultural water supply that irrigates everything from halftime speeches to corporate lectures to SAT coaching classes.
Yet several recent studies stand as a warning against taking the platitudes of achievement too seriously. The new research focuses on a familiar type, perfectionists, who panic or blow a fuse when things don’t turn out just so. The findings not only confirm that such purists are often at risk for mental distress — as Freud, Alfred Adler and countless exasperated parents have long predicted — but also suggest that perfectionism is a valuable lens through which to understand a variety of seemingly unrelated mental difficulties, from depression to compulsive behavior to addiction.
Some researchers divide perfectionists into three types, based on answers to standardized questionnaires: Self-oriented strivers who struggle to live up to their high standards and appear to be at risk of self-critical depression; outwardly focused zealots who expect perfection from others, often ruining relationships; and those desperate to live up to an ideal they’re convinced others expect of them, a risk factor for suicidal thinking and eating disorders.
“It’s natural for people to want to be perfect in a few things, say in their job — being a good editor or surgeon depends on not making mistakes,” said Gordon L. Flett, a psychology professor at York University and an author of many of the studies. “It’s when it generalizes to other areas of life, home life, appearance, hobbies, that you begin to see real problems.”
Unlike people given psychiatric labels, however, perfectionists neither battle stigma nor consider themselves to be somehow dysfunctional. On the contrary, said Alice Provost, an employee assistance counselor at the University of California, Davis, who recently ran group therapy for staff members struggling with perfectionist impulses. “They’re very proud of it,” she said. “And the culture highly values and reinforces their attitudes.”
Consider a recent study by psychologists at Curtin University of Technology in Australia, who found that the level of “all or nothing” thinking predicted how well perfectionists navigated their lives. The researchers had 252 participants fill out questionnaires rating their level of agreement with 16 statements like “I think of myself as either in control or out of control” and “I either get on very well with people or not at all.”
The more strongly participants in the study thought in this either-or fashion, the more likely they were to display the kind of extreme perfectionism that can lead to mental health problems.
In short, these are people who not only swallow many of the maxims for success but take them as absolutes. At some level they know that it’s possible to succeed after falling short (build on your mistakes: another boilerplate rule). The trouble is that falling short still reeks of mediocrity; for them, to say otherwise is to spin the result.
Never accept second best. Always be true to yourself.
The burden of perfectionist expectations is all too familiar to anyone who has struggled to kick a bad habit. Break down just once — have one smoke, one single drink — and at best it’s a “slip.” At worst it’s a relapse, and more often it’s a fall off the wagon: failure. And if you’ve already fallen, well, may as well pour yourself two or three more.
This is why experts have long debated the wisdom of insisting on abstinence as necessary in treating substance abuse. Most rehab clinics are based on this principle: Either you’re clean or you’re not; there’s no safe level of use. This approach has unquestionably worked for millions of addicts, but if the studies of perfectionists are any guide it has undermined the efforts of many others.
Ms. Provost said those in her program at U.C. Davis often displayed symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder — another risk for perfectionists. They couldn’t bear a messy desk. They found it nearly impossible to leave a job half-done, to do the next day. Some put in ludicrously long hours redoing tasks, chasing an ideal only they could see.
As an experiment, Ms. Provost had members of the group slack off on purpose, against their every instinct. “This was mostly in the context of work,” she said, “and they seem like small things, because what some of them considered failure was what most people would consider no big deal.”
Leave work on time. Don’t arrive early. Take all the breaks allowed. Leave the desk a mess. Allow yourself a set number of tries to finish a job; then turn in what you have.
“And then ask: Did you get punished? Did the university continue to function? Are you happier?” Ms. Provost said. “They were surprised that yes, everything continued to function, and the things they were so worried about weren’t that crucial.”
The British have a saying that encourages people to show their skills while mocking the universal fear of failure: Do your worst.
If you can’t tolerate your worst, at least once in a while, how true to yourself can you be?"
... who stole it from the New York Times. The below article outlines the societal and personal implications of perfectionism and how they relate to mental health.
Fun reading for this week :)
December 4, 2007
Mind Unhappy? Self-Critical? Maybe You’re Just a Perfectionist
By BENEDICT CAREY
"Just about any sports movie, airport paperback or motivational tape delivers a few boilerplate rules for success. Believe in yourself. Don’t take no for an answer. Never quit. Don’t accept second best.
Above all, be true to yourself.
It’s hard to argue with those maxims. They seem self-evident — if not written into the Constitution, then at least part of the cultural water supply that irrigates everything from halftime speeches to corporate lectures to SAT coaching classes.
Yet several recent studies stand as a warning against taking the platitudes of achievement too seriously. The new research focuses on a familiar type, perfectionists, who panic or blow a fuse when things don’t turn out just so. The findings not only confirm that such purists are often at risk for mental distress — as Freud, Alfred Adler and countless exasperated parents have long predicted — but also suggest that perfectionism is a valuable lens through which to understand a variety of seemingly unrelated mental difficulties, from depression to compulsive behavior to addiction.
Some researchers divide perfectionists into three types, based on answers to standardized questionnaires: Self-oriented strivers who struggle to live up to their high standards and appear to be at risk of self-critical depression; outwardly focused zealots who expect perfection from others, often ruining relationships; and those desperate to live up to an ideal they’re convinced others expect of them, a risk factor for suicidal thinking and eating disorders.
“It’s natural for people to want to be perfect in a few things, say in their job — being a good editor or surgeon depends on not making mistakes,” said Gordon L. Flett, a psychology professor at York University and an author of many of the studies. “It’s when it generalizes to other areas of life, home life, appearance, hobbies, that you begin to see real problems.”
Unlike people given psychiatric labels, however, perfectionists neither battle stigma nor consider themselves to be somehow dysfunctional. On the contrary, said Alice Provost, an employee assistance counselor at the University of California, Davis, who recently ran group therapy for staff members struggling with perfectionist impulses. “They’re very proud of it,” she said. “And the culture highly values and reinforces their attitudes.”
Consider a recent study by psychologists at Curtin University of Technology in Australia, who found that the level of “all or nothing” thinking predicted how well perfectionists navigated their lives. The researchers had 252 participants fill out questionnaires rating their level of agreement with 16 statements like “I think of myself as either in control or out of control” and “I either get on very well with people or not at all.”
The more strongly participants in the study thought in this either-or fashion, the more likely they were to display the kind of extreme perfectionism that can lead to mental health problems.
In short, these are people who not only swallow many of the maxims for success but take them as absolutes. At some level they know that it’s possible to succeed after falling short (build on your mistakes: another boilerplate rule). The trouble is that falling short still reeks of mediocrity; for them, to say otherwise is to spin the result.
Never accept second best. Always be true to yourself.
The burden of perfectionist expectations is all too familiar to anyone who has struggled to kick a bad habit. Break down just once — have one smoke, one single drink — and at best it’s a “slip.” At worst it’s a relapse, and more often it’s a fall off the wagon: failure. And if you’ve already fallen, well, may as well pour yourself two or three more.
This is why experts have long debated the wisdom of insisting on abstinence as necessary in treating substance abuse. Most rehab clinics are based on this principle: Either you’re clean or you’re not; there’s no safe level of use. This approach has unquestionably worked for millions of addicts, but if the studies of perfectionists are any guide it has undermined the efforts of many others.
Ms. Provost said those in her program at U.C. Davis often displayed symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder — another risk for perfectionists. They couldn’t bear a messy desk. They found it nearly impossible to leave a job half-done, to do the next day. Some put in ludicrously long hours redoing tasks, chasing an ideal only they could see.
As an experiment, Ms. Provost had members of the group slack off on purpose, against their every instinct. “This was mostly in the context of work,” she said, “and they seem like small things, because what some of them considered failure was what most people would consider no big deal.”
Leave work on time. Don’t arrive early. Take all the breaks allowed. Leave the desk a mess. Allow yourself a set number of tries to finish a job; then turn in what you have.
“And then ask: Did you get punished? Did the university continue to function? Are you happier?” Ms. Provost said. “They were surprised that yes, everything continued to function, and the things they were so worried about weren’t that crucial.”
The British have a saying that encourages people to show their skills while mocking the universal fear of failure: Do your worst.
If you can’t tolerate your worst, at least once in a while, how true to yourself can you be?"
November 23, 2007
Fatty McFatFat
So in the Fall of 2005, I stopped working out and fell into something of a depression after coming back from the Cadets. I ended up gaining about 20 pounds, but the majority of that was weight that I lost during the summer. I went from 135 to about 155 ... which I would translate from "way too damn skinny" to "average build."
For whatever reason I decided to pull the same trick this semester, with a couple of distinct differences. Firstly, not only did I stop running and working out, but I also took up regular drinking as a new hobby. Secondly, I didn't start off at 135 but a still moderately healthy 160 or so. Combine all those things and you get the revelation I did yesterday when getting out of the shower ...
Since September, I've gotten fat.
The new goal, by May 2008, is to drop back down to 160 while putting muscle back on. I don't need to be in superhuman shape, obviously. That probably wouldn't happen anyway and I'd get discouraged. The tentative plan to accomplish this goal has four distinct parts to it:
1. Run at least 3 days a week.
2. Work out at least 2 days a week.
3. No more drinking, unless I'm out and it's the weekend. This part of the plan should also reduce my bar tab significantly.
4. Eat vegetables and fruit. Those are apparently good for you.
Mm, I do so love goals. The plan started this morning ... wish me luck.
Happy Break.
So in the Fall of 2005, I stopped working out and fell into something of a depression after coming back from the Cadets. I ended up gaining about 20 pounds, but the majority of that was weight that I lost during the summer. I went from 135 to about 155 ... which I would translate from "way too damn skinny" to "average build."
For whatever reason I decided to pull the same trick this semester, with a couple of distinct differences. Firstly, not only did I stop running and working out, but I also took up regular drinking as a new hobby. Secondly, I didn't start off at 135 but a still moderately healthy 160 or so. Combine all those things and you get the revelation I did yesterday when getting out of the shower ...
Since September, I've gotten fat.
The new goal, by May 2008, is to drop back down to 160 while putting muscle back on. I don't need to be in superhuman shape, obviously. That probably wouldn't happen anyway and I'd get discouraged. The tentative plan to accomplish this goal has four distinct parts to it:
1. Run at least 3 days a week.
2. Work out at least 2 days a week.
3. No more drinking, unless I'm out and it's the weekend. This part of the plan should also reduce my bar tab significantly.
4. Eat vegetables and fruit. Those are apparently good for you.
Mm, I do so love goals. The plan started this morning ... wish me luck.
Happy Break.
November 13, 2007
Engineering Circle Drill, Continuous
The end of November and beginning of December are the best time to be alive if you're an undergraduate student. Everything converges to a very definitive point, far moreso than during the summer, the spring, or any other time of year. I actually see this part of the year as the final push, rather than in April towards the end of the academic year, because the real yearly break happens at Christmas, not in the summer.
Here's what's up for me this season. Godspeed to everyone in your own journeys to tame the perilous November skies.
November 13 - Wind Ensemble Dress Rehearsal
November 14 - Heat Transfer Midterm
November 15 - Aerodynamics Midterm
November 15 - Wing Design Preliminary Report Due
November 15 - Martindale Gala in NYC (speech)
November 17 - Lehigh/Lafayette Game
November 18 - Wind Ensemble Concert
November 21 - Thanksgiving Break
November 21 - Martindale Rough Draft #1 Due
November 26 - Heat Transfer Project 7 Due
November 28 - Martindale Rough Draft #2 Due
November 30 - Control Systems Midterm
November 30 - IBE Venture Summary Due
November 30 - IBE Poster Design Due
November 30 - Gryphon Carousel
December 2 - Gryphon Carousel
December 2 - Possible KKY Service Project
December 3 - Control Systems Design Project Due
December 6 - Possible KKY Service Project
December 6 - Brass Ensemble Performance
December 6 - Wing Design Competition
December 7 - Wing Design Final Report Due
December 8 - Heat Transfer Final (early)
December 9 - Vespers Performance (two shows)
December 10 - Brass Ensemble Performance
December 10 - IBE Presentation to Ben Franklin
December 10 - Control Systems Take-home Final (??)
December 12 - Aerodynamics Final
December 14 - Materials Final
December 15 - Grad Applications Due
December 20 - Trembley Building Closing
December 21 - Much Drinking, Wii, and Joy
At least it's time for Christmas music, right?
Happy November ... keep your horn up.
The end of November and beginning of December are the best time to be alive if you're an undergraduate student. Everything converges to a very definitive point, far moreso than during the summer, the spring, or any other time of year. I actually see this part of the year as the final push, rather than in April towards the end of the academic year, because the real yearly break happens at Christmas, not in the summer.
Here's what's up for me this season. Godspeed to everyone in your own journeys to tame the perilous November skies.
November 13 - Wind Ensemble Dress Rehearsal
November 14 - Heat Transfer Midterm
November 15 - Aerodynamics Midterm
November 15 - Wing Design Preliminary Report Due
November 15 - Martindale Gala in NYC (speech)
November 17 - Lehigh/Lafayette Game
November 18 - Wind Ensemble Concert
November 21 - Thanksgiving Break
November 21 - Martindale Rough Draft #1 Due
November 26 - Heat Transfer Project 7 Due
November 28 - Martindale Rough Draft #2 Due
November 30 - Control Systems Midterm
November 30 - IBE Venture Summary Due
November 30 - IBE Poster Design Due
November 30 - Gryphon Carousel
December 2 - Gryphon Carousel
December 2 - Possible KKY Service Project
December 3 - Control Systems Design Project Due
December 6 - Possible KKY Service Project
December 6 - Brass Ensemble Performance
December 6 - Wing Design Competition
December 7 - Wing Design Final Report Due
December 8 - Heat Transfer Final (early)
December 9 - Vespers Performance (two shows)
December 10 - Brass Ensemble Performance
December 10 - IBE Presentation to Ben Franklin
December 10 - Control Systems Take-home Final (??)
December 12 - Aerodynamics Final
December 14 - Materials Final
December 15 - Grad Applications Due
December 20 - Trembley Building Closing
December 21 - Much Drinking, Wii, and Joy
At least it's time for Christmas music, right?
Happy November ... keep your horn up.
November 03, 2007
Mo' Money, Mo' Problems ...
... you should understand that better than anyone, Stanley.
So I've come up with a couple of projects I need to take care of over winter break. The first is the usual one- practice at least 3-4 times a week and regain my chops, since oddly enough they usually get worse as the semester goes on. Apparently playing twice a week for a total of 3 hours is not enough to keep you sounding good in the long-term. Who knew?
My second project is to continue work on the Martindale Thesis. It's going to be a push to get this first draft out the door by the end of the semester, and the more work I can devote to it over winter break the easier time I'll have in the Spring. I'm not overly behind, but I just need to find 10-20 hours this month to really sit down and crank this bad boy out. The problem is that, since this assignment is due in over a month, I always focus on everything else first. By the time that's all done, is between 12 and 1 AM and I just want to go to bed. Oh well ... I'll get it done for this semester and then push forward into January. It just might not be a pretty sight for the next few weeks.
Lastly, my third project is to put my BIS 111 knowledge to good use. For some reason I've been spending a much larger amount of money this semester than in previous ones, and only recently have I sat down and tried to actually figure out where it all went. The answer, as best as I can estimate, is as follows:
1. Food- Since most of my friends are off the meal plan, I'm less inclined to use it myself. This means that my "free" meals (paid for by Gryphoning) are going to waste and I'm spending about $6-7 on individual meals a couple times a week. That adds up, especially when the meals involve off-campus group or team meetings.
2. Alcohol- The amount of alcohol I'm consuming this semester has definitely stepped up considerably, probably between 100 and 200% from the Spring. It's been a fun little hobby, although in the last few weeks I've backed off it somewhat due to illness. The downside of this increased consumption, though, is that I find I'm often supplying alcohol for events or keeping my own personal stock higher. I'd estimate I've put in maybe $150 for alcohol this semester, or even $200. That's not necessarily money I'd like to be putting into this type of expense ... so I need to pay more attention to that in the future.
3. Projects- I have a bad habit of not getting reimbursed for things fast enough, and that means that they quickly fall off my radar and I might lose out on them. That's no biggie except for the fact that the purchases I'm making are much larger this semester, namely in the way of software and hardware for IBE. So far I'm about $200 in the hole for that project alone. It's time to get on the ball and get my money back.
4. Gas- This is only about $40 a month, or about two stops at the station every 4-5 weeks. All in all it's a small expense, but I'm certainly driving a lot more than last semester due to visits home, visits to TCNJ, and IBE trips. Maybe I can get reimbursed for the IBE travel, as well?
The major result of this analysis, however, is that I've discovered that I don't take very good care of monitoring my finances. You don't need to monitor every penny that comes through your checking account, necessarily, but you should definitely by able to determine how much you're spending on various things every month, how much income you're receiving (zero, anyone?), and specifically if you should change your spending habits to maintain financial stability. So here's my idea for winter break to fix this: design an MS Access database for all of my finances. My end goal is for the database to have the following features:
-Revenue and Expense entry forms that include the amount of a transaction, the type of transaction, the type of item/service purchased, etc.
-Each entry, depending on the data given, will be recorded onto different lists and statements organized by type. A $20 purchase of beer, for example, will be logged onto the total alcohol expense sheet (by month and year), the expenses for the given month, the expenses for the account from which it was taken (cash, checking, savings, credit), and the cash flow for the given month by type.
-Overall documents will therefore be able to reproduce all of my purchases and expenditures over the course of the month and year.
And before you say it ... yes, I know i just described what the "Quicken" software does. But hey, over the break I've got lots of time and my database knowledge definitely needs a booster shot, so what the hell.
Here's to being fiscally responsible in 2008!
Happy Saturday.
... you should understand that better than anyone, Stanley.
So I've come up with a couple of projects I need to take care of over winter break. The first is the usual one- practice at least 3-4 times a week and regain my chops, since oddly enough they usually get worse as the semester goes on. Apparently playing twice a week for a total of 3 hours is not enough to keep you sounding good in the long-term. Who knew?
My second project is to continue work on the Martindale Thesis. It's going to be a push to get this first draft out the door by the end of the semester, and the more work I can devote to it over winter break the easier time I'll have in the Spring. I'm not overly behind, but I just need to find 10-20 hours this month to really sit down and crank this bad boy out. The problem is that, since this assignment is due in over a month, I always focus on everything else first. By the time that's all done, is between 12 and 1 AM and I just want to go to bed. Oh well ... I'll get it done for this semester and then push forward into January. It just might not be a pretty sight for the next few weeks.
Lastly, my third project is to put my BIS 111 knowledge to good use. For some reason I've been spending a much larger amount of money this semester than in previous ones, and only recently have I sat down and tried to actually figure out where it all went. The answer, as best as I can estimate, is as follows:
1. Food- Since most of my friends are off the meal plan, I'm less inclined to use it myself. This means that my "free" meals (paid for by Gryphoning) are going to waste and I'm spending about $6-7 on individual meals a couple times a week. That adds up, especially when the meals involve off-campus group or team meetings.
2. Alcohol- The amount of alcohol I'm consuming this semester has definitely stepped up considerably, probably between 100 and 200% from the Spring. It's been a fun little hobby, although in the last few weeks I've backed off it somewhat due to illness. The downside of this increased consumption, though, is that I find I'm often supplying alcohol for events or keeping my own personal stock higher. I'd estimate I've put in maybe $150 for alcohol this semester, or even $200. That's not necessarily money I'd like to be putting into this type of expense ... so I need to pay more attention to that in the future.
3. Projects- I have a bad habit of not getting reimbursed for things fast enough, and that means that they quickly fall off my radar and I might lose out on them. That's no biggie except for the fact that the purchases I'm making are much larger this semester, namely in the way of software and hardware for IBE. So far I'm about $200 in the hole for that project alone. It's time to get on the ball and get my money back.
4. Gas- This is only about $40 a month, or about two stops at the station every 4-5 weeks. All in all it's a small expense, but I'm certainly driving a lot more than last semester due to visits home, visits to TCNJ, and IBE trips. Maybe I can get reimbursed for the IBE travel, as well?
The major result of this analysis, however, is that I've discovered that I don't take very good care of monitoring my finances. You don't need to monitor every penny that comes through your checking account, necessarily, but you should definitely by able to determine how much you're spending on various things every month, how much income you're receiving (zero, anyone?), and specifically if you should change your spending habits to maintain financial stability. So here's my idea for winter break to fix this: design an MS Access database for all of my finances. My end goal is for the database to have the following features:
-Revenue and Expense entry forms that include the amount of a transaction, the type of transaction, the type of item/service purchased, etc.
-Each entry, depending on the data given, will be recorded onto different lists and statements organized by type. A $20 purchase of beer, for example, will be logged onto the total alcohol expense sheet (by month and year), the expenses for the given month, the expenses for the account from which it was taken (cash, checking, savings, credit), and the cash flow for the given month by type.
-Overall documents will therefore be able to reproduce all of my purchases and expenditures over the course of the month and year.
And before you say it ... yes, I know i just described what the "Quicken" software does. But hey, over the break I've got lots of time and my database knowledge definitely needs a booster shot, so what the hell.
Here's to being fiscally responsible in 2008!
Happy Saturday.
September 26, 2007
Lessons
This morning I sat down in front of five middle school trombone players and said, "Today we're going to learn the Bb scale. It's what the band uses to warm up, and after today you'll be able to join them."
35 minutes later, all five of them were able to name the notes and positions, and play the scale from memory. Will they remember it tomorrow? Maybe not ... it takes a while to learn scales for the first time. They probably won't remember all the positions or notes that they were able to rattle off to quickly this morning, and it might take them a little while to recall the sound and feel of moving your slide to match the Bb scale. That's okay; it's not my goal to have them ready for a regional audition by next week, but just to learn how to play a little bit on the horn.
So I was sitting at the end of the lesson thinking about this and starting to set some new goals for the whole semester (all five players are new to the instrument) when something amazing happened. One of the boys was slouching and put his feet up on the chair in front of him, about to bring his horn up to play. Before I could correct him, the boy sitting next to him said, "Hey, sit up. Back straight, feet on the floor. That way you'll be able to breathe better." The first boy asked him why ... and the second boy responded, "Jeremy said so. And he's right. That's how we're supposed to sit."
It might have been trivial, and it might have been something that I could have said myself, but watching a student pass on something I'd taught them ...
There are some things that just make your heart happy, you know?
Happy Wednesday.
This morning I sat down in front of five middle school trombone players and said, "Today we're going to learn the Bb scale. It's what the band uses to warm up, and after today you'll be able to join them."
35 minutes later, all five of them were able to name the notes and positions, and play the scale from memory. Will they remember it tomorrow? Maybe not ... it takes a while to learn scales for the first time. They probably won't remember all the positions or notes that they were able to rattle off to quickly this morning, and it might take them a little while to recall the sound and feel of moving your slide to match the Bb scale. That's okay; it's not my goal to have them ready for a regional audition by next week, but just to learn how to play a little bit on the horn.
So I was sitting at the end of the lesson thinking about this and starting to set some new goals for the whole semester (all five players are new to the instrument) when something amazing happened. One of the boys was slouching and put his feet up on the chair in front of him, about to bring his horn up to play. Before I could correct him, the boy sitting next to him said, "Hey, sit up. Back straight, feet on the floor. That way you'll be able to breathe better." The first boy asked him why ... and the second boy responded, "Jeremy said so. And he's right. That's how we're supposed to sit."
It might have been trivial, and it might have been something that I could have said myself, but watching a student pass on something I'd taught them ...
There are some things that just make your heart happy, you know?
Happy Wednesday.
September 21, 2007
Crap
You study, and you know the concepts, and you can do all the new math and methodology that's presented to you on a test. But wait- suddenly you reach a point in a problem where you can't go any further because you don't know what to do. And it's not the material for the class that's stopping you ... it's some simple math rule, or derivative method, or factoring procedure that just escapes you. You stare and stare at the problem, a handful of steps away from the solution, only to run out of time and write down something erroneous. After the test, your classmates are able to easily explain what you didn't see, elucidating every step clearly and with complete understanding.
Sometimes you see the solution ... and sometimes, for whatever reason, you just don't. Such is life.
So you win again, Laplace. But tomorrow the sun shall rise, and the war shall rage anew.
Laplace - 2
Jeremy - 1
You study, and you know the concepts, and you can do all the new math and methodology that's presented to you on a test. But wait- suddenly you reach a point in a problem where you can't go any further because you don't know what to do. And it's not the material for the class that's stopping you ... it's some simple math rule, or derivative method, or factoring procedure that just escapes you. You stare and stare at the problem, a handful of steps away from the solution, only to run out of time and write down something erroneous. After the test, your classmates are able to easily explain what you didn't see, elucidating every step clearly and with complete understanding.
Sometimes you see the solution ... and sometimes, for whatever reason, you just don't. Such is life.
So you win again, Laplace. But tomorrow the sun shall rise, and the war shall rage anew.
Laplace - 2
Jeremy - 1
September 16, 2007
Fall
I was 6, maybe 7. Fall meant that the air was going to grow colder, that we could spend no more time in the pool that year. That the leaves were going to fall and that when it was sunny, the air was crisp. When it was cloudy, the air was damp and moist and frigid if you were outside early in the morning. I remember standing at the bus stop on the mornings, huddled in the jacket I had fought against wearing (but now was happy that my mom had made me put it on). I carried my back pack and lunch box, but didn't yet realize that school was my future for the next 16 years.
Fall meant that games of baseball in the street would be ending soon. Mornings at the bus stop would be bitter and the wind cutting. The green of the trees would be giving way to the gray of the street as the most dominant color of my neighborhood.
That fall I would learn to read.
I was 11. This fall was different for the first time in 5 years. The old house was gone, the old school was gone, and now the growing coldness felt more foreboding than it did familiar. The only thing that was the same for me was the sky on those early mornings ... it was still crystal clear blue, or various hues of gray, or sometimes lanced with white offset by golden sunshine. Every morning the bus arrived but took me somewhere far unlike the place I had come from.
My own feelings were different. Something was beginning to happen. This was the first time I had been challenged to rise again in a new place. And, that fall, I would meet the first teacher who told me I could do better. He told me I had to work hard now, improve, meet my potential.
That fall I would learn to write.
I was 14, and this was the fall that would forever change my life. The moments which define that fall for me were, for the first time, not at the bus stop. I vaguely remember those mornings, but far more telling for me were the evenings. There was always the same cutting wind from my youth across the field, the same white lanced with gold in the sky, and the same gradual transposition of orange from green, then gray and brown. But this fall was something new. Something that I truly loved.
I will never forget the vision of that first sunset. We rounded the corner to come down the hill into the stadium, me beside my best friend and surrounded by my friends, and there in front of us was the most perfect sunset that could have existed. A third of the sun was still above the horizon, the sky was a fiery red that ever so gradually gave way to orange, then beige, then blue, then a very distinct purple on the opposite horizon.
That fall I would learn to perform.
I was 18, and once again it was my first time in a new place. The fall that year was characterized by the sunrise I saw every morning. I would wake up at 6:30, stretch for half an hour, then jog down to the gym for a 3 mile run. Every morning on the way down, though, I'd stop at the top of the stairs and look down into the valley. Some parts of it were still in the dark, thanks to the mountains on the Eastern side. The rest of it was coming to life ever so slowly, being warmed and invigorated with the light that was falling silently.
Every single morning I would pause for that one perfect moment, amidst all the hope and fear that was inside me. My test would come later that fall- the test of my dream. Deep down I knew that each morning would bring me that much closer to my goal. Every mile I ran was one more ounce of strength my body would have when the time came. Every note I practiced was one more degree of proficiency that would set me above the rest. Looking down silently the whole time was the ever-present sky ... gray and muffled or white lanced with gold.
That fall I would test my limits.
This fall is the same as the previous three have been ... but I shall embrace it as what could possibly be the last one in this place. Next year- we'll see what the fall brings with it. I guarantee that wherever I am, whomever I am with, or whatever I'm doing ... the sky will be there.
Happy September.
I was 6, maybe 7. Fall meant that the air was going to grow colder, that we could spend no more time in the pool that year. That the leaves were going to fall and that when it was sunny, the air was crisp. When it was cloudy, the air was damp and moist and frigid if you were outside early in the morning. I remember standing at the bus stop on the mornings, huddled in the jacket I had fought against wearing (but now was happy that my mom had made me put it on). I carried my back pack and lunch box, but didn't yet realize that school was my future for the next 16 years.
Fall meant that games of baseball in the street would be ending soon. Mornings at the bus stop would be bitter and the wind cutting. The green of the trees would be giving way to the gray of the street as the most dominant color of my neighborhood.
That fall I would learn to read.
I was 11. This fall was different for the first time in 5 years. The old house was gone, the old school was gone, and now the growing coldness felt more foreboding than it did familiar. The only thing that was the same for me was the sky on those early mornings ... it was still crystal clear blue, or various hues of gray, or sometimes lanced with white offset by golden sunshine. Every morning the bus arrived but took me somewhere far unlike the place I had come from.
My own feelings were different. Something was beginning to happen. This was the first time I had been challenged to rise again in a new place. And, that fall, I would meet the first teacher who told me I could do better. He told me I had to work hard now, improve, meet my potential.
That fall I would learn to write.
I was 14, and this was the fall that would forever change my life. The moments which define that fall for me were, for the first time, not at the bus stop. I vaguely remember those mornings, but far more telling for me were the evenings. There was always the same cutting wind from my youth across the field, the same white lanced with gold in the sky, and the same gradual transposition of orange from green, then gray and brown. But this fall was something new. Something that I truly loved.
I will never forget the vision of that first sunset. We rounded the corner to come down the hill into the stadium, me beside my best friend and surrounded by my friends, and there in front of us was the most perfect sunset that could have existed. A third of the sun was still above the horizon, the sky was a fiery red that ever so gradually gave way to orange, then beige, then blue, then a very distinct purple on the opposite horizon.
That fall I would learn to perform.
I was 18, and once again it was my first time in a new place. The fall that year was characterized by the sunrise I saw every morning. I would wake up at 6:30, stretch for half an hour, then jog down to the gym for a 3 mile run. Every morning on the way down, though, I'd stop at the top of the stairs and look down into the valley. Some parts of it were still in the dark, thanks to the mountains on the Eastern side. The rest of it was coming to life ever so slowly, being warmed and invigorated with the light that was falling silently.
Every single morning I would pause for that one perfect moment, amidst all the hope and fear that was inside me. My test would come later that fall- the test of my dream. Deep down I knew that each morning would bring me that much closer to my goal. Every mile I ran was one more ounce of strength my body would have when the time came. Every note I practiced was one more degree of proficiency that would set me above the rest. Looking down silently the whole time was the ever-present sky ... gray and muffled or white lanced with gold.
That fall I would test my limits.
This fall is the same as the previous three have been ... but I shall embrace it as what could possibly be the last one in this place. Next year- we'll see what the fall brings with it. I guarantee that wherever I am, whomever I am with, or whatever I'm doing ... the sky will be there.
Happy September.
September 10, 2007
August 26, 2007
Jump
The map was pretty clear about where we were. Where the boat was going had already been planned, and I was familiar with the waters. It was a comfortable feeling, knowing the trip ahead. Where we were going. What to expect. I was content.
About a hundred yards ahead there was a fork in the river. No bother, I thought. I know which path I'm going to choose, because that's the path this ship is sailing. I boarded this ship for a reason. I'm going to stick with it. I know these waters. I am content.
And besides, changing course is not an option. I'm not steering.
I glanced to the side and saw another ship, five feet away. Where did that ship come from? There was no warning of it at all.
The ship was different, certainly. Not at all what I knew, what I was used to. But nevertheless, there it was, sailing alongside the ship I was on. I realized I knew nothing about that ship or where it was going, really.
All I knew about that ship was that I could board it, if I chose to. Right now. I could cross the distance and sail down the other fork of the river. All it would take was a single sure-footed jump.
But what of the ship I was on? I would never see it again, in all likelihood. For it would pass from my sight immediately upon making the jump and sail on. Sail on into the waters I knew but could never return to.
Up ahead it was only 40 yards now. Only a matter of seconds until the second boat would be gone, for good. Only a matter of seconds until the new ship, the new path, the new river, and all that was down that fork would be forever left to my imagination.
I take back what I said before; I knew something about that second ship. I knew I was fond of it. I couldn't pinpoint why, but it was discernibly attractive. Obviously tempting.
Just one jump away.
One single jump.
Only ten yards now.
Five yards.
And one eternal moment later, the second boat is gone.
And I'm sailing in familiar waters.
And onward I pass through the fork, and away sails the second ship.
That night I gaze at the stars. I did not jump. I am on the ship on which I chose to sail. I am on the path I know. It makes sense.
Somewhere in the world is a second ship, under the same stars, and I can't help but wonder-
where should I have gone, if I had jumped?
The map was pretty clear about where we were. Where the boat was going had already been planned, and I was familiar with the waters. It was a comfortable feeling, knowing the trip ahead. Where we were going. What to expect. I was content.
About a hundred yards ahead there was a fork in the river. No bother, I thought. I know which path I'm going to choose, because that's the path this ship is sailing. I boarded this ship for a reason. I'm going to stick with it. I know these waters. I am content.
And besides, changing course is not an option. I'm not steering.
I glanced to the side and saw another ship, five feet away. Where did that ship come from? There was no warning of it at all.
The ship was different, certainly. Not at all what I knew, what I was used to. But nevertheless, there it was, sailing alongside the ship I was on. I realized I knew nothing about that ship or where it was going, really.
All I knew about that ship was that I could board it, if I chose to. Right now. I could cross the distance and sail down the other fork of the river. All it would take was a single sure-footed jump.
But what of the ship I was on? I would never see it again, in all likelihood. For it would pass from my sight immediately upon making the jump and sail on. Sail on into the waters I knew but could never return to.
Up ahead it was only 40 yards now. Only a matter of seconds until the second boat would be gone, for good. Only a matter of seconds until the new ship, the new path, the new river, and all that was down that fork would be forever left to my imagination.
I take back what I said before; I knew something about that second ship. I knew I was fond of it. I couldn't pinpoint why, but it was discernibly attractive. Obviously tempting.
Just one jump away.
One single jump.
Only ten yards now.
Five yards.
And one eternal moment later, the second boat is gone.
And I'm sailing in familiar waters.
And onward I pass through the fork, and away sails the second ship.
That night I gaze at the stars. I did not jump. I am on the ship on which I chose to sail. I am on the path I know. It makes sense.
Somewhere in the world is a second ship, under the same stars, and I can't help but wonder-
where should I have gone, if I had jumped?
August 22, 2007
New CD
I've sung this song before ... and thinking about it, I don't think I ever did come back. I left her at the tide.
But then again- does anyone ever really come back after they sail away?
when the light begins to fade
and shadows fall across the sea,
one bright star in the evening sky.
your love's light leads me on my way.
there's a dream that will not sleep,
a burning hope that will not die.
so I must go now with the wind,
and leave you waiting on the tide.
time to fly, time to touch the sky.
one voice alone, a haunting cry.
one song, one star burning bright,
may it carry me through darkest night.
rain comes over the gray hills,
and on the air, a soft goodbye.
hear the song that I sing to you
when the time has come to fly.
when I leave and take the wind
and find the land that faith will bring,
the brightest star in the evening sky
is yours to find for me.
-The Long Goodbye, Celtic Woman
I've sung this song before ... and thinking about it, I don't think I ever did come back. I left her at the tide.
But then again- does anyone ever really come back after they sail away?
when the light begins to fade
and shadows fall across the sea,
one bright star in the evening sky.
your love's light leads me on my way.
there's a dream that will not sleep,
a burning hope that will not die.
so I must go now with the wind,
and leave you waiting on the tide.
time to fly, time to touch the sky.
one voice alone, a haunting cry.
one song, one star burning bright,
may it carry me through darkest night.
rain comes over the gray hills,
and on the air, a soft goodbye.
hear the song that I sing to you
when the time has come to fly.
when I leave and take the wind
and find the land that faith will bring,
the brightest star in the evening sky
is yours to find for me.
-The Long Goodbye, Celtic Woman
August 16, 2007
August 12, 2007
The Sun over the Mountain
Just like that, we're down to the last weeks of summer. It's been a good one, for the most part. Work was educational, lucrative, and gave me a lot of help choosing my career path. Living here at the 467 has been even more informative; I'd like to think I was able to pass my man-training with fairly good results. In between there were trips, adventures, fun, friends, and once in a while a surprise or two. Who knew the choice to live at Lehigh would turn out to be so wise?
The thing that I want to take from this summer most, though, is the notion of what's important in life. The bottom line facing you every day is that for better or worse, the sun will set on today and will rise tomorrow. What you do during the hours in between determines who you are ... and more often than not, we focus on a lot of things that don't matter. If you skip an assignment, the sun will rise tomorrow. If you study a few minutes less, the sun will rise tomorrow. If you just flat out ignore all those nawing responsibilities you have in life, time will inevitably go on with or without you. Sure, there will be consequences, but you're the one who faces them. If you're ready to do that, whatever the consequences may be, then godspeed.
But, on the other hand, this idea can work against you. If you pass up the chance to see your friends, don't say something you need to, pass on an opportunity, say goodbye to someone, fail to call someone, stay angry in a fight, or walk out the door when you shouldn't ... the sun will rise tomorrow.
The trick to this is that the one constant in life is how fleeting it is. It goes back to some of the best advice I've ever received: "Figure out what makes you happy, and do it. Find out who makes you happy, and stay with them." As this relates to me ... I know that I don't want another year of strict academics and a deterministic adherence to getting work done. I don't want to sit in the lab hour after hour, day after day, watching the world go by. I want to be with the people in my life, learn who they are, make them laugh, and enjoy their company. It will take all the will power I have to actually turn off my desire to be the best and excel at my coursework all the time. But there's a balance to everything in life ... and it's about damn time I found it.
To this end, I am making a general declaration. Anytime this year, if you present me with a timely, reasonable proposition for fun or adventure, I am not allowed to decline it. Exceptions include the existence of plans of a similar nature or something that may affect the future (an exam, etc), but in general this will hold. My greatest motivation in life comes from the perception others have of me ... so in a way I'm partially relying on others to save me from myself. Remind me that I am a tool if I keep working and staying inside, question my manhood, and demand my presence at somewhere fun. I'll appreciate it more than you could know.
So that's my promise, watching the sun set on Bethlehem right now and counting down the hours to when senior year starts ...
I promise to live.
And, on a somewhat related note-
I promise to find courage.
Happy Sunday night.
Just like that, we're down to the last weeks of summer. It's been a good one, for the most part. Work was educational, lucrative, and gave me a lot of help choosing my career path. Living here at the 467 has been even more informative; I'd like to think I was able to pass my man-training with fairly good results. In between there were trips, adventures, fun, friends, and once in a while a surprise or two. Who knew the choice to live at Lehigh would turn out to be so wise?
The thing that I want to take from this summer most, though, is the notion of what's important in life. The bottom line facing you every day is that for better or worse, the sun will set on today and will rise tomorrow. What you do during the hours in between determines who you are ... and more often than not, we focus on a lot of things that don't matter. If you skip an assignment, the sun will rise tomorrow. If you study a few minutes less, the sun will rise tomorrow. If you just flat out ignore all those nawing responsibilities you have in life, time will inevitably go on with or without you. Sure, there will be consequences, but you're the one who faces them. If you're ready to do that, whatever the consequences may be, then godspeed.
But, on the other hand, this idea can work against you. If you pass up the chance to see your friends, don't say something you need to, pass on an opportunity, say goodbye to someone, fail to call someone, stay angry in a fight, or walk out the door when you shouldn't ... the sun will rise tomorrow.
The trick to this is that the one constant in life is how fleeting it is. It goes back to some of the best advice I've ever received: "Figure out what makes you happy, and do it. Find out who makes you happy, and stay with them." As this relates to me ... I know that I don't want another year of strict academics and a deterministic adherence to getting work done. I don't want to sit in the lab hour after hour, day after day, watching the world go by. I want to be with the people in my life, learn who they are, make them laugh, and enjoy their company. It will take all the will power I have to actually turn off my desire to be the best and excel at my coursework all the time. But there's a balance to everything in life ... and it's about damn time I found it.
To this end, I am making a general declaration. Anytime this year, if you present me with a timely, reasonable proposition for fun or adventure, I am not allowed to decline it. Exceptions include the existence of plans of a similar nature or something that may affect the future (an exam, etc), but in general this will hold. My greatest motivation in life comes from the perception others have of me ... so in a way I'm partially relying on others to save me from myself. Remind me that I am a tool if I keep working and staying inside, question my manhood, and demand my presence at somewhere fun. I'll appreciate it more than you could know.
So that's my promise, watching the sun set on Bethlehem right now and counting down the hours to when senior year starts ...
I promise to live.
And, on a somewhat related note-
I promise to find courage.
Happy Sunday night.
August 09, 2007
March Straight and True, to Victory ...
... for Holy Name Shall Always Be.
It's championship week for DCI, and this year my beloved Cadets are back among the top-seeded corps in the country. At the moment they're duking it out with the Blue Devils for the top spot, having bested them by a mere .025 points at their last meeting on Sunday. Tonight is quarterfinals, followed by semi's and the championship on Saturday. Win or lose, I can say that this year's corps had the best music and drill books since probably 2000. It also had, in my opinion, the best Cadets brass since 2001 (my, what three years under Gino Cipriani can do for a hornline).
One of the my favorite things about The Cadets, and drum corps in general, is the huge amount of history that surrounds the activity. Despite name and location changes, the corps still wears essentially the same uniform they did in the 30's, has maintained the same staff since the 80's, sings the same corps song they have since the 40's, and has thousands of alumni that cover every decade in between. One of those alumni is actually the reason I'm writing this entry ... according to The Cadets' website, the original drum major of the The Cadets has been found and will be attending the corps' championship show on Saturday night. The full article is here:
http://www.yea.org/site/News2?JServSessionIdr004=8l4pnj5o1b.app7b&page=NewsArticle&id=13984&news_iv_ctrl=1021
The implications behind this are staggering. 73 years ago, this man and several dozen of his colleagues at the Church of the Most Holy Name served as the founding members of the entire Cadets organization. What began as some kids in a youth group would go on to become one of the premier musical marching units in the world ... and all of that was only possible because of this man's work and leadership at the very beginning. It is because of him that all of us who came after were able to pursue excellence and maintain the traditions that were instilled back in 1934.
This story is what drum corps is all about. Although I was a single member of the hornline for one season, I can still proudly say that I am a Cadet for the rest of my life. I know the traditions and the history, what it is to wear the uniform, how it feels to perform, the emotion that runs through you when singing the song. And most importantly because of this connection, I can also feel a great sense of gratitude to Mr. John Baumfalk, DM '34, and all the Cadets who came before me.
So with that ... I say thank you, John. Without question, your diligent example and timeless efforts have changed my life.
Good luck to The Cadets in all three shows this weekend, with special wishes to the friends I could have been aging out with on Saturday. I might not have come back, but not a day goes by that I don't think of you and the corps.
Here's to 73 years- and who knows how many more- of the Maroon and Gold.
Amen.
... for Holy Name Shall Always Be.
It's championship week for DCI, and this year my beloved Cadets are back among the top-seeded corps in the country. At the moment they're duking it out with the Blue Devils for the top spot, having bested them by a mere .025 points at their last meeting on Sunday. Tonight is quarterfinals, followed by semi's and the championship on Saturday. Win or lose, I can say that this year's corps had the best music and drill books since probably 2000. It also had, in my opinion, the best Cadets brass since 2001 (my, what three years under Gino Cipriani can do for a hornline).
One of the my favorite things about The Cadets, and drum corps in general, is the huge amount of history that surrounds the activity. Despite name and location changes, the corps still wears essentially the same uniform they did in the 30's, has maintained the same staff since the 80's, sings the same corps song they have since the 40's, and has thousands of alumni that cover every decade in between. One of those alumni is actually the reason I'm writing this entry ... according to The Cadets' website, the original drum major of the The Cadets has been found and will be attending the corps' championship show on Saturday night. The full article is here:
http://www.yea.org/site/News2?JServSessionIdr004=8l4pnj5o1b.app7b&page=NewsArticle&id=13984&news_iv_ctrl=1021
The implications behind this are staggering. 73 years ago, this man and several dozen of his colleagues at the Church of the Most Holy Name served as the founding members of the entire Cadets organization. What began as some kids in a youth group would go on to become one of the premier musical marching units in the world ... and all of that was only possible because of this man's work and leadership at the very beginning. It is because of him that all of us who came after were able to pursue excellence and maintain the traditions that were instilled back in 1934.
This story is what drum corps is all about. Although I was a single member of the hornline for one season, I can still proudly say that I am a Cadet for the rest of my life. I know the traditions and the history, what it is to wear the uniform, how it feels to perform, the emotion that runs through you when singing the song. And most importantly because of this connection, I can also feel a great sense of gratitude to Mr. John Baumfalk, DM '34, and all the Cadets who came before me.
So with that ... I say thank you, John. Without question, your diligent example and timeless efforts have changed my life.
Good luck to The Cadets in all three shows this weekend, with special wishes to the friends I could have been aging out with on Saturday. I might not have come back, but not a day goes by that I don't think of you and the corps.
Here's to 73 years- and who knows how many more- of the Maroon and Gold.
Amen.
August 08, 2007
Legends Never Die
Legends of the Hidden Temple was easily one of my favorite TV shows when I was growing up. Even now I still consider it the pinnacle point of what I call the “Golden Age of Nickelodeon.” I’m sure if you think back, you can recall that glorious time, that amazing period, that Pax Romana of children’s entertainment. It was a time when Nicktoons like Rocko’s Modern Life and Doug ran several times a day. When shows like Double Dare kept us watching in horror at the random dad who couldn’t find an orange flag inside a giant nose filled with slime. When Silver Age shows like Pete and Pete and Salute Your Shorts could still be found. Who among us wasn’t moved when Artie selflessly fought the ocean, or when Donkeylips threatened to sit on Michael’s head and fart continuously? Oh, it was a hell of a time to be young, watching a popsicle stick with googley-eyes pander to your every whim …
But even now, looking back on all the best times we had, I think we can all agree that Legends was in a class all its own from the very start. No other game show required the same incredible berth of skills, or pit so many contenders against one another in such a bloody fashion. No other venue existed where knowledge was as important as might, or where a pedophile dressed like a Mayan could jump out from behind Styrofoam blocks and wrestle you into a dark corner. And certainly, nowhere else could you ever get away with being called a “Purple Parrot” without simultaneously being labeled as a homosexual.
With all this and more to remember, it makes sense why Legends has made its recent resurgence into popular college culture. It’s a pivotal part of our youth and a source of an almost infinite number of universally understood references. For those reasons and more, I now present an idea that I think could return the show to some semblance of its former grandeur and glory. So here goes ... the basic outline of Legends of the Hidden Temple, College Edition:
1. Kirk Fogg
The show cannot be brought back without first rehiring its only host, Kirk Fogg. Where Marc Summers was overtly enthusiastic and Moira Quark was courteously differential, Kirk Fogg often displayed nothing less than clear, unadulterated loathing for many of the contestants on Legends. Sure, he went through the trite blatherings and standard contrivances of all game show hosts, but deep down … you could just tell he hated his job, his life, and all the Green Monkeys that ever kept him from being the next Alex Trebec. The only time he showed even a hint of actual fondness for the players was during his awkward and overly tight hugs after each round of the Temple Games. Even then, it wasn’t so much a pleasantry as it was a sexual advance on a 12-year-old.
It is clear- for the show to return, Kirk Fogg and all his poorly handled depression and rage must return with it. His contribution to our memory and his overall influence on the show are just too strong to be replaced by anything but the original. And if I may say so, his entrance onto the sound stage must be as it always was. He needs to slide in on a rope, just like old times, because if you looked closely … that was the moment when he hated not just the contestants and the stupid-ass talking head, but the whole wide world that had made him the gigantic Mayan tool he would be forevermore.
2. New Teams
Obviously the six original teams (Orange Iguanas, Blue Barracudas, Red Jaguars, Green Monkeys, Purple Parrots, and Silver Snakes) must all return, but what about some new teams to root for? We’re not kids anymore … let’s get into some real, unfiltered representation of the human spirit. And don’t stop after simply adding new teams to rotate in- let’s opt for some controversy around them, too. I think we can all agree that something bland like the “Yellow Fire Ants” just plain sucks. So here are some team ideas I’ve been throwing around:
-the White Wasps
-the Black Panthers
-the Pink Douchebags
-the Stripped Streakers
Each of these teams brings out very different aspects of college life, and I think each of us can find reasons to get behind them and cheer as they struggle to cross the Moat or walk down the Steps of Knowledge. Of note are some of the distinctions they’ll be receiving to set them apart as special “College Edition” teams:
-The White Wasps come equipped with a completely unfounded, bitter attitude towards life, as well as a sense of jaded cynicism that in no way reflects their cushy suburban upbringing.
-The Black Panthers receive one additional weapon each time they win a round of the Temple Games (see below: Combat with the Temple Guards).
-The Pink Douchebags forego the typical contestant clothing (t-shirt and khaki shorts) in favor of a pink, popped polo and obnoxiously plaid golf shorts. The insignia on their shirt will not be an animal, but instead a large hand giving the Shocker.
-The Stripped Streakers participate in the entirety of Legends while naked. As such, minimal attractiveness requirements will be mandated for contestants on this team … score less than an 8 on the hotness scale and we shouldn’t have to watch your ugly ass climb a ladder inside the Temple. That’s just disgusting.
3. The Best Prizes of 1994
All prizes awarded at the various stages of the game will be the same as when Legends originally aired. Fail the Moat, and you win Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Fuck up the Steps of Knowledge, and you could win Nike pump-action sneakers. Lose in the Temple Games, and you’ll get a walkman that plays cassettes. And if, by the hand of Quetzalcoatl, you actually clear the Temple, you and your partner are going to fuckin’ Space Camp.
4. Alcohol as a Game Enhancer
The point of the Moat crossing was to immediately eliminate the theoretically dumbest, weakest, and shittiest teams from the competition. I mean, yeah … if you’re 11 and you can’t handle rowing an inner tube 12 feet across an indoor tank, you have no right to be within 100 feet of the Temple, let alone running it. The problem with the Moat was that the entire crossing would last maybe 20 seconds, making for an often anticlimactic and short-lived sense of excitement. In the worst case scenario, if two of the teams had members that fell in or did something especially retarded (forgot to hit the light-up buzzer, for example), the entire competition would actually become downright boring.
To counter the ineffectiveness of the original Moat crossing and to lengthen its total time, all teams will now be required to participate in two new activities before they can buzz in. The first begins half an hour before Kirk starts the race … both members of each team must take a number of Tequila shots determined by body weight. For every 35 pounds you weigh, you must take one shot in that time period. A dude weighing 220 pounds, then, would be required to take 6 shots minimum in the 30 minutes leading up to the crossing. Combine this with the new pool length (60 feet) and suddenly crossing it becomes not a matter of seconds, but whole minutes or even hours.
The second activity in the Moat Crossing is the preliminary construction of a mini Silver Monkey Statue upon reaching the opposite shore. This is essentially screening to ensure that, if your team runs the Temple, you will not fuck up and deface the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. There is no worse sin than placing the monkey’s head before its torso, and you will be penalized severely for it if you make such a mistake (see below: Ways to Die inside the Temple).
5. Pimpin’ Olmec
The Steps of Knowledge separated those contestants with the ability to pay attention for 30 seconds from those who could not. Minimal changes will be made here, except for the following:
-you must take a shot for each step you descend down the stairs (three for the win)
-puking on the steps of knowledge (due to the 6-10 shots you’ve now consumed) will result in Olmec calling you out for however long he wants; during that time he may insult your mother, heritage, sexual orientation, manliness, penis size, breast size, ugliness, and anything else pertaining to you or your inability to hold your booze
-Olmec’s stories are now entirely pornographic in nature; as such, Temple treasures will now include such rare finds as "The Dildo of Jenna Jameson” and “The Cock Ring of Ron Jeremy”
-Olmec will no longer respond with “that is incorrect” if a wrong answer is given. Instead he may choose from a list of insults ranging from “That taste in your mouth is cock” to “You know how I know you’re gay?”
6. Battling the Temple Guards
The Temple Games will remain largely intact … in fact, the various apparatuses used to play them will not be changed at all. They will be left at their original size, construction, and load capacity. Figuring out how to not die on the climbing wall when your rope’s stress limit is half your weight will add an entirely new dimension to the Games. The creepy spotters will also return to ensure that you are sufficiently fondled and groped as you attempt to drop balls in the bucket while spinning on a one-sided seesaw meant to hold less than 100 pounds.
Note: If that last sentence doesn’t sum up all the glory and absolute ridiculousness of the show itself, I don’t know what does.
The biggest change to the Temple Games will be the prizes rewarded for victory. Instead of receiving Pendants of Life (used to ward off Temple Guards), winners will now receive weapons chosen from a randomized stock. This is due to the fact that, instead of being able to exchange a pendant for your life, contestants must now battle any encountered Temple Guards to the death. Temple Guards will receive standardized equipment including blow darts, a crossbow, a scimitar, and a small shield. The contestant weapons will be drawn from a Battle Royale-style cache, ranging from the horrible (trash can lid) to the suicidal (flamethrower inside the wood/plastic Temple):
-trash can lid
-3” knife
-hatchet
-grenade
-slingshot
-9 mm handgun
-uzi
-broken bottle
-broadsword
-small flamethrower
-mace (spray)
-mace (medieval)
-trident
7. Other Ways to Die Inside the Temple
Running the Temple was always the best part of the show, but so often even the best runs would end in an upsetting, unworthy fashion. An uncoordinated contestant would get trapped in the ball pit, or wouldn’t press the actuators in the observatory the right way, or wouldn’t understand how many doors existed in a room. This type of ineptitude might have been fine for 12-year-olds, but we’re not dealing with kids now. The College Edition Temple, while largely the same as the original, demands respect, ability, and knowledge from those who pass through its sacred gates.
In an effort to correct this lack of humility before a place of such innate power and wisdom, the dynamics of the Temple itself have changed. Yes, you still must earn the right to enter … but, more importantly, you must now also earn the right to leave. Transgress in any of the following ways and guess what ... your ass is toast.
-As mentioned above, Temple Guards are still the crazy pedophiles they once were, but now they must be killed before you may continue your journey. If you’re the first runner and are killed in combat, the Temple Guard will vanish and the second runner will begin. Also, do not scavenge equipment from a fallen Temple Spirit. Dishonoring them that way will unleash the other two Guards who will immediately begin pursuing you like raptors.
-Tripping on your way up the Temple gate’s steps will result in columns of flame shooting up out of the steps themselves. Far too many contestants looked like silly assholes before they even made it into the Temple … for that mistake you will now be incinerated alive.
-Being confused inside the Temple is no longer acceptable as a reason for failure. You should know the requirements, characteristics, exits, and entrances for each of the 15 Temple layouts and 46 Temple rooms. Find the key and proper slot in The King’s Storeroom, and you should not have to waste even a second figuring out which door or hatch opened. To amend this sort of delay, once the requirements for a room are met, you have exactly 4 seconds to move on. Taking longer than that will result in a hail of bullets flying through the room, ostensibly killing or mortally wounding anyone inside.
Exceptions to this rule include those contestants who are actively battling Temple Guards when a room’s requirements are met. Killing you then would just be dick.
-The Altar of Sacrifice is a new room, inspired by the arcane Aztec rituals that inspired the show itself. In order to pass through the room you must destroy something in the fires of the Altar. Depending upon the nature of your sacrifice, you may be directed forward, backward, or straight to the treasure. The options are as follows:
Sacrificing your weapon(s) in the Altar will give you either an indirect path or nothing. It also guarantees at least some injury when battling the guards from then on.
Sacrificing a body part will open the next room.
Sacrificing your life will open all the doors of the Temple (this option is available only to first runners or very stupid second runners).
-Lastly and most importantly, the Shrine of the Silver Monkey is now considered the most holy and high room of the Temple. Dishonoring the Monkey, as so many contestants did, will now bring swift and inescapable death. From the moment you enter the room you will have exactly 12 seconds to obtain the Monkey’s parts and construct Him properly on the first try. Mismatching any parts or missing this time limit will result in the room suddenly being sealed off behind a glass barrier and filled with mustard gas. As an added consequence, your waiting teammate will be simultaneously shot in the head by Kirk Fogg.
In short, The Silver Monkey doesn't fuck around anymore.
So there you have it … Legends of the Hidden Temple, College Edition. Despite (or because of) the increased amount of violence, substance abuse, and sexual content, I really think that this show idea is worth pursuing. I mean, wouldn’t you be willing to sit down and watch a group of your peers undergo this kind of torture? Or better yet, wouldn’t you love the chance to compete again yourself- if not for sheer glory, then for the chance at going to Space Camp and earning a kick-ass animal T-shirt? The chance to be touched inappropriately by Kirk Fogg and be belittled by a giant plush head? The chance to finally strike back against those Megan’s Law-hating Temple Guards?
I know I would.
Oh well ... here's to the dreams and legends of our youth.
Green Monkeys 4-eva.
Legends of the Hidden Temple was easily one of my favorite TV shows when I was growing up. Even now I still consider it the pinnacle point of what I call the “Golden Age of Nickelodeon.” I’m sure if you think back, you can recall that glorious time, that amazing period, that Pax Romana of children’s entertainment. It was a time when Nicktoons like Rocko’s Modern Life and Doug ran several times a day. When shows like Double Dare kept us watching in horror at the random dad who couldn’t find an orange flag inside a giant nose filled with slime. When Silver Age shows like Pete and Pete and Salute Your Shorts could still be found. Who among us wasn’t moved when Artie selflessly fought the ocean, or when Donkeylips threatened to sit on Michael’s head and fart continuously? Oh, it was a hell of a time to be young, watching a popsicle stick with googley-eyes pander to your every whim …
But even now, looking back on all the best times we had, I think we can all agree that Legends was in a class all its own from the very start. No other game show required the same incredible berth of skills, or pit so many contenders against one another in such a bloody fashion. No other venue existed where knowledge was as important as might, or where a pedophile dressed like a Mayan could jump out from behind Styrofoam blocks and wrestle you into a dark corner. And certainly, nowhere else could you ever get away with being called a “Purple Parrot” without simultaneously being labeled as a homosexual.
With all this and more to remember, it makes sense why Legends has made its recent resurgence into popular college culture. It’s a pivotal part of our youth and a source of an almost infinite number of universally understood references. For those reasons and more, I now present an idea that I think could return the show to some semblance of its former grandeur and glory. So here goes ... the basic outline of Legends of the Hidden Temple, College Edition:
1. Kirk Fogg
The show cannot be brought back without first rehiring its only host, Kirk Fogg. Where Marc Summers was overtly enthusiastic and Moira Quark was courteously differential, Kirk Fogg often displayed nothing less than clear, unadulterated loathing for many of the contestants on Legends. Sure, he went through the trite blatherings and standard contrivances of all game show hosts, but deep down … you could just tell he hated his job, his life, and all the Green Monkeys that ever kept him from being the next Alex Trebec. The only time he showed even a hint of actual fondness for the players was during his awkward and overly tight hugs after each round of the Temple Games. Even then, it wasn’t so much a pleasantry as it was a sexual advance on a 12-year-old.
It is clear- for the show to return, Kirk Fogg and all his poorly handled depression and rage must return with it. His contribution to our memory and his overall influence on the show are just too strong to be replaced by anything but the original. And if I may say so, his entrance onto the sound stage must be as it always was. He needs to slide in on a rope, just like old times, because if you looked closely … that was the moment when he hated not just the contestants and the stupid-ass talking head, but the whole wide world that had made him the gigantic Mayan tool he would be forevermore.
2. New Teams
Obviously the six original teams (Orange Iguanas, Blue Barracudas, Red Jaguars, Green Monkeys, Purple Parrots, and Silver Snakes) must all return, but what about some new teams to root for? We’re not kids anymore … let’s get into some real, unfiltered representation of the human spirit. And don’t stop after simply adding new teams to rotate in- let’s opt for some controversy around them, too. I think we can all agree that something bland like the “Yellow Fire Ants” just plain sucks. So here are some team ideas I’ve been throwing around:
-the White Wasps
-the Black Panthers
-the Pink Douchebags
-the Stripped Streakers
Each of these teams brings out very different aspects of college life, and I think each of us can find reasons to get behind them and cheer as they struggle to cross the Moat or walk down the Steps of Knowledge. Of note are some of the distinctions they’ll be receiving to set them apart as special “College Edition” teams:
-The White Wasps come equipped with a completely unfounded, bitter attitude towards life, as well as a sense of jaded cynicism that in no way reflects their cushy suburban upbringing.
-The Black Panthers receive one additional weapon each time they win a round of the Temple Games (see below: Combat with the Temple Guards).
-The Pink Douchebags forego the typical contestant clothing (t-shirt and khaki shorts) in favor of a pink, popped polo and obnoxiously plaid golf shorts. The insignia on their shirt will not be an animal, but instead a large hand giving the Shocker.
-The Stripped Streakers participate in the entirety of Legends while naked. As such, minimal attractiveness requirements will be mandated for contestants on this team … score less than an 8 on the hotness scale and we shouldn’t have to watch your ugly ass climb a ladder inside the Temple. That’s just disgusting.
3. The Best Prizes of 1994
All prizes awarded at the various stages of the game will be the same as when Legends originally aired. Fail the Moat, and you win Hershey’s chocolate syrup. Fuck up the Steps of Knowledge, and you could win Nike pump-action sneakers. Lose in the Temple Games, and you’ll get a walkman that plays cassettes. And if, by the hand of Quetzalcoatl, you actually clear the Temple, you and your partner are going to fuckin’ Space Camp.
4. Alcohol as a Game Enhancer
The point of the Moat crossing was to immediately eliminate the theoretically dumbest, weakest, and shittiest teams from the competition. I mean, yeah … if you’re 11 and you can’t handle rowing an inner tube 12 feet across an indoor tank, you have no right to be within 100 feet of the Temple, let alone running it. The problem with the Moat was that the entire crossing would last maybe 20 seconds, making for an often anticlimactic and short-lived sense of excitement. In the worst case scenario, if two of the teams had members that fell in or did something especially retarded (forgot to hit the light-up buzzer, for example), the entire competition would actually become downright boring.
To counter the ineffectiveness of the original Moat crossing and to lengthen its total time, all teams will now be required to participate in two new activities before they can buzz in. The first begins half an hour before Kirk starts the race … both members of each team must take a number of Tequila shots determined by body weight. For every 35 pounds you weigh, you must take one shot in that time period. A dude weighing 220 pounds, then, would be required to take 6 shots minimum in the 30 minutes leading up to the crossing. Combine this with the new pool length (60 feet) and suddenly crossing it becomes not a matter of seconds, but whole minutes or even hours.
The second activity in the Moat Crossing is the preliminary construction of a mini Silver Monkey Statue upon reaching the opposite shore. This is essentially screening to ensure that, if your team runs the Temple, you will not fuck up and deface the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. There is no worse sin than placing the monkey’s head before its torso, and you will be penalized severely for it if you make such a mistake (see below: Ways to Die inside the Temple).
5. Pimpin’ Olmec
The Steps of Knowledge separated those contestants with the ability to pay attention for 30 seconds from those who could not. Minimal changes will be made here, except for the following:
-you must take a shot for each step you descend down the stairs (three for the win)
-puking on the steps of knowledge (due to the 6-10 shots you’ve now consumed) will result in Olmec calling you out for however long he wants; during that time he may insult your mother, heritage, sexual orientation, manliness, penis size, breast size, ugliness, and anything else pertaining to you or your inability to hold your booze
-Olmec’s stories are now entirely pornographic in nature; as such, Temple treasures will now include such rare finds as "The Dildo of Jenna Jameson” and “The Cock Ring of Ron Jeremy”
-Olmec will no longer respond with “that is incorrect” if a wrong answer is given. Instead he may choose from a list of insults ranging from “That taste in your mouth is cock” to “You know how I know you’re gay?”
6. Battling the Temple Guards
The Temple Games will remain largely intact … in fact, the various apparatuses used to play them will not be changed at all. They will be left at their original size, construction, and load capacity. Figuring out how to not die on the climbing wall when your rope’s stress limit is half your weight will add an entirely new dimension to the Games. The creepy spotters will also return to ensure that you are sufficiently fondled and groped as you attempt to drop balls in the bucket while spinning on a one-sided seesaw meant to hold less than 100 pounds.
Note: If that last sentence doesn’t sum up all the glory and absolute ridiculousness of the show itself, I don’t know what does.
The biggest change to the Temple Games will be the prizes rewarded for victory. Instead of receiving Pendants of Life (used to ward off Temple Guards), winners will now receive weapons chosen from a randomized stock. This is due to the fact that, instead of being able to exchange a pendant for your life, contestants must now battle any encountered Temple Guards to the death. Temple Guards will receive standardized equipment including blow darts, a crossbow, a scimitar, and a small shield. The contestant weapons will be drawn from a Battle Royale-style cache, ranging from the horrible (trash can lid) to the suicidal (flamethrower inside the wood/plastic Temple):
-trash can lid
-3” knife
-hatchet
-grenade
-slingshot
-9 mm handgun
-uzi
-broken bottle
-broadsword
-small flamethrower
-mace (spray)
-mace (medieval)
-trident
7. Other Ways to Die Inside the Temple
Running the Temple was always the best part of the show, but so often even the best runs would end in an upsetting, unworthy fashion. An uncoordinated contestant would get trapped in the ball pit, or wouldn’t press the actuators in the observatory the right way, or wouldn’t understand how many doors existed in a room. This type of ineptitude might have been fine for 12-year-olds, but we’re not dealing with kids now. The College Edition Temple, while largely the same as the original, demands respect, ability, and knowledge from those who pass through its sacred gates.
In an effort to correct this lack of humility before a place of such innate power and wisdom, the dynamics of the Temple itself have changed. Yes, you still must earn the right to enter … but, more importantly, you must now also earn the right to leave. Transgress in any of the following ways and guess what ... your ass is toast.
-As mentioned above, Temple Guards are still the crazy pedophiles they once were, but now they must be killed before you may continue your journey. If you’re the first runner and are killed in combat, the Temple Guard will vanish and the second runner will begin. Also, do not scavenge equipment from a fallen Temple Spirit. Dishonoring them that way will unleash the other two Guards who will immediately begin pursuing you like raptors.
-Tripping on your way up the Temple gate’s steps will result in columns of flame shooting up out of the steps themselves. Far too many contestants looked like silly assholes before they even made it into the Temple … for that mistake you will now be incinerated alive.
-Being confused inside the Temple is no longer acceptable as a reason for failure. You should know the requirements, characteristics, exits, and entrances for each of the 15 Temple layouts and 46 Temple rooms. Find the key and proper slot in The King’s Storeroom, and you should not have to waste even a second figuring out which door or hatch opened. To amend this sort of delay, once the requirements for a room are met, you have exactly 4 seconds to move on. Taking longer than that will result in a hail of bullets flying through the room, ostensibly killing or mortally wounding anyone inside.
Exceptions to this rule include those contestants who are actively battling Temple Guards when a room’s requirements are met. Killing you then would just be dick.
-The Altar of Sacrifice is a new room, inspired by the arcane Aztec rituals that inspired the show itself. In order to pass through the room you must destroy something in the fires of the Altar. Depending upon the nature of your sacrifice, you may be directed forward, backward, or straight to the treasure. The options are as follows:
Sacrificing your weapon(s) in the Altar will give you either an indirect path or nothing. It also guarantees at least some injury when battling the guards from then on.
Sacrificing a body part will open the next room.
Sacrificing your life will open all the doors of the Temple (this option is available only to first runners or very stupid second runners).
-Lastly and most importantly, the Shrine of the Silver Monkey is now considered the most holy and high room of the Temple. Dishonoring the Monkey, as so many contestants did, will now bring swift and inescapable death. From the moment you enter the room you will have exactly 12 seconds to obtain the Monkey’s parts and construct Him properly on the first try. Mismatching any parts or missing this time limit will result in the room suddenly being sealed off behind a glass barrier and filled with mustard gas. As an added consequence, your waiting teammate will be simultaneously shot in the head by Kirk Fogg.
In short, The Silver Monkey doesn't fuck around anymore.
So there you have it … Legends of the Hidden Temple, College Edition. Despite (or because of) the increased amount of violence, substance abuse, and sexual content, I really think that this show idea is worth pursuing. I mean, wouldn’t you be willing to sit down and watch a group of your peers undergo this kind of torture? Or better yet, wouldn’t you love the chance to compete again yourself- if not for sheer glory, then for the chance at going to Space Camp and earning a kick-ass animal T-shirt? The chance to be touched inappropriately by Kirk Fogg and be belittled by a giant plush head? The chance to finally strike back against those Megan’s Law-hating Temple Guards?
I know I would.
Oh well ... here's to the dreams and legends of our youth.
Green Monkeys 4-eva.
August 06, 2007
Rubicon
I don’t want to go. I’m expecting a call from my girlfriend, and there’s homework I should be doing.
“It’s Saturday night. Have you always been like this?”
Like what?
“Such a worrier. You sound like my dad.”
Probably. But I still don’t think we should go.
“Well I’m going and you can stay here if you want to.”
I’m not letting you go alone.
“Then grab your keys and follow me.”
We left the dorm and slowly descended the still unfamiliar campus, made even more alien by the darkness of the night around us. Light from the city below us began to glow with greater intensity as we traveled, although my fear only became heightened as we emerged from the dark. Eventually we were passing shops and restaurants, all closed and uninviting in the orange glimmer of Bethlehem’s street lamps. I glanced behind us every minute or so as we walked, scanning the street for anyone nearby.
“You’re really uncomfortable around here, aren’t you?”
I’ve heard it’s not that safe in the city.
“How much time have you spent in cities?”
I’ve visited Manhattan and Philly a couple times.
“Never mind. Just keep going, I can see the bridge.”
The underpass leading to the bridge stairs was covered in countless layers of graffiti. At least a dozen indiscernible names and symbols tainted each cement slab. I was relieved to reach the comparably refreshing air of the bridge surface when we emerged from the top of the staircase.
We walked in silence across the bridge, strolling along the thin paved line between rushing traffic and the distant sound of slowly flowing water. The city lights illuminated the river’s surface- we must have been about thirty feet up. The deep blackness beneath the reflected orange dots gave no indication of how deep the river went. She responded to my unspoken question.
“I heard the river’s only two feet deep in the summer.”
Which would make a jump from this bridge suicidal, theoretically. Not exactly the guaranteed results of the Cornell cliffs, but handy to know.
We reached the opposite side of the bridge and crossed the road. She darted into the trees on the far side and was quickly lost from sight.
“Almost there! Come on!”
I followed her into the sticky wetness of the September night. Thorns grazed my feet and calves as spider webs collapsed around my face. A buzzing in my ear distracted me from walking and I nearly tripped on an exposed tree root.
It occurred to me as we went that the forest was sloping upward at a fairly steep angle. After a minute or so I realized we’d climbed at least a story. The exertion of the act was confirmed as I felt sweat begin to slide down my temples.
This isn’t exactly what I had planned for my Saturday night.
Where are we going?
“The best view in town.”
I saw her silhouette emerge from the damp pine smell and quickly dash left. I followed in time to see her round the side of a building.
When I caught up to her I was greeted by an open stone plaza with a concrete ledge at the far end. The only light supplied to the place was moonlight, and a warm breeze floated on the air. She was standing on the ledge facing back to where we came from, over the bridge.
“Get up here and take a look.”
I joined her on the ledge and peered out, regretting my lack of glasses.
Before us was the entirety of the mountain. At the base was the city, beaming that artificial pumpkin glow that turns the sky a dark salmon and blocks out the stars. Above the city were the hallowed halls of the university, some buildings dotted with yellow windows where maintenance men were still working. Climbing higher still were the dorms, more fully aglow in the life and revelry of the first weekend of the semester. Tree-shaped blackness outlined the top slope of the mountain against the night sky.
From this side, you could actually see the stars.
“We have four years here. There’s so much we’re going to do before we leave.”
It’s going to be gone before we know what happened.
“Don’t talk like that. We’ve been here for a week and already it feels like home. We can finally make decisions here, learn real things here, figure out who we are here!”
Feels like home, maybe to you. I’m not sure about this place yet.
“You just need to relax, go with the flow! Have some fun.”
There’s homework I should be doing.
“Keep that attitude and you’re going to hate it here.”
…
It is a pretty beautiful view.
“I know … I came here during the day when my parents and I visited and I always wanted to come back at night. Do you think it was worth the walk now?”
It was.
What were you saying about figuring stuff out?
“Well, that’s the thing that’s so cool. We can be whoever or whatever we want. Starting now. No one knows who we were or where we came from. We can choose … everything.”
I looked at the stars.
Really?
“Yep.”
And we sat and felt the breeze and gazed out over the river at our new home.
I don’t want to go. I’m expecting a call from my girlfriend, and there’s homework I should be doing.
“It’s Saturday night. Have you always been like this?”
Like what?
“Such a worrier. You sound like my dad.”
Probably. But I still don’t think we should go.
“Well I’m going and you can stay here if you want to.”
I’m not letting you go alone.
“Then grab your keys and follow me.”
We left the dorm and slowly descended the still unfamiliar campus, made even more alien by the darkness of the night around us. Light from the city below us began to glow with greater intensity as we traveled, although my fear only became heightened as we emerged from the dark. Eventually we were passing shops and restaurants, all closed and uninviting in the orange glimmer of Bethlehem’s street lamps. I glanced behind us every minute or so as we walked, scanning the street for anyone nearby.
“You’re really uncomfortable around here, aren’t you?”
I’ve heard it’s not that safe in the city.
“How much time have you spent in cities?”
I’ve visited Manhattan and Philly a couple times.
“Never mind. Just keep going, I can see the bridge.”
The underpass leading to the bridge stairs was covered in countless layers of graffiti. At least a dozen indiscernible names and symbols tainted each cement slab. I was relieved to reach the comparably refreshing air of the bridge surface when we emerged from the top of the staircase.
We walked in silence across the bridge, strolling along the thin paved line between rushing traffic and the distant sound of slowly flowing water. The city lights illuminated the river’s surface- we must have been about thirty feet up. The deep blackness beneath the reflected orange dots gave no indication of how deep the river went. She responded to my unspoken question.
“I heard the river’s only two feet deep in the summer.”
Which would make a jump from this bridge suicidal, theoretically. Not exactly the guaranteed results of the Cornell cliffs, but handy to know.
We reached the opposite side of the bridge and crossed the road. She darted into the trees on the far side and was quickly lost from sight.
“Almost there! Come on!”
I followed her into the sticky wetness of the September night. Thorns grazed my feet and calves as spider webs collapsed around my face. A buzzing in my ear distracted me from walking and I nearly tripped on an exposed tree root.
It occurred to me as we went that the forest was sloping upward at a fairly steep angle. After a minute or so I realized we’d climbed at least a story. The exertion of the act was confirmed as I felt sweat begin to slide down my temples.
This isn’t exactly what I had planned for my Saturday night.
Where are we going?
“The best view in town.”
I saw her silhouette emerge from the damp pine smell and quickly dash left. I followed in time to see her round the side of a building.
When I caught up to her I was greeted by an open stone plaza with a concrete ledge at the far end. The only light supplied to the place was moonlight, and a warm breeze floated on the air. She was standing on the ledge facing back to where we came from, over the bridge.
“Get up here and take a look.”
I joined her on the ledge and peered out, regretting my lack of glasses.
Before us was the entirety of the mountain. At the base was the city, beaming that artificial pumpkin glow that turns the sky a dark salmon and blocks out the stars. Above the city were the hallowed halls of the university, some buildings dotted with yellow windows where maintenance men were still working. Climbing higher still were the dorms, more fully aglow in the life and revelry of the first weekend of the semester. Tree-shaped blackness outlined the top slope of the mountain against the night sky.
From this side, you could actually see the stars.
“We have four years here. There’s so much we’re going to do before we leave.”
It’s going to be gone before we know what happened.
“Don’t talk like that. We’ve been here for a week and already it feels like home. We can finally make decisions here, learn real things here, figure out who we are here!”
Feels like home, maybe to you. I’m not sure about this place yet.
“You just need to relax, go with the flow! Have some fun.”
There’s homework I should be doing.
“Keep that attitude and you’re going to hate it here.”
…
It is a pretty beautiful view.
“I know … I came here during the day when my parents and I visited and I always wanted to come back at night. Do you think it was worth the walk now?”
It was.
What were you saying about figuring stuff out?
“Well, that’s the thing that’s so cool. We can be whoever or whatever we want. Starting now. No one knows who we were or where we came from. We can choose … everything.”
I looked at the stars.
Really?
“Yep.”
And we sat and felt the breeze and gazed out over the river at our new home.
July 19, 2007
Dumbledore Dies!?
So ... I love the Harry Potter series. Say what you will about its lack of description, seemingly predictable plot lines, one-dimensional treatment of female characters, sloppy verbiage, and sometimes excessively harped-on themes. You could also feel free to mention the ridiculous amount of overhyping it receives in the media or the fact that the world in which it takes place makes The Lord of the Rings seem plausible by comparison.
If you're being a real bitch, you could even just remind me that it's for children with a 4th grade reading level.
Regardless of all that, I've become yet another victim who falls into the Harry Potter trap every time a new book comes out. Whenever one hits the stands, I have no choice but to let go, drop my life into the hole for a while, and dig myself out page by page. Order of the Phoenix came out and I had it done in 5 days. Half-Blood Prince came out when I was on tour with the Cadets, but upon my return I finished it in three. Follow this pattern linearly, and I'd almost be willing to bet that I'll finish The Deathly Hallows in two full days or less, depending when I start it. To my mind that means it will have to be a Friday or Saturday, cause let's face it ... going into work isn't an option when there's Harry Potter to be read.
The reason I bring this up is due to the extreme amount of coverage on the apparent leakage of the final book's text online. Supposedly someone was able to obtain a copy of the publication, take pictures of each page, and then upload them to BitTorrent. Countless blogs and online news sources are currently covering this situation, many of which contain links that actually lead to the alleged text itself. Combine this leakage, the coverage behind it, and the fact that I won't be able to purchase the book probably until next Saturday (due to work travel), and I think it's safe to say that I'm in a considerable amount of spoiler-related danger. This is a threat I now take seriously, thanks to certain individuals who did their best to destroy the last novel for me.
It was during the summer of 2005, when HPB hit the shelves around mid-July or so. Most of us Cadets who were Harry Potter fans opted to not read it on tour, given that 1. we needed to be able to sleep 2. we wanted to be able to enjoy the book somewhere more comfortable than a raging hot bus and 3. once we started, we'd probably want to skip rehearsal every day in order to read it. To that end I didn't start reading the book myself until the day I got back from tour, and I finished it during late nights at gryphon training (a fact which got me in more narcoleptic trouble than I'd anticipated). The problem with waiting like that, though, was that there were several Cadets who did decide to read it on the bus. Being the fans they were, they also had little hesitance about discussing the book out loud amongst themselves. As more and more people told them to stop talking about it (often angrily), the readers became more and more perturbed with the whole situation. The eventual result was one angry reader who finally screamed "YOU KNOW WHAT? DUMBLEDORE DIES!"
I don't need to tell you that the bus erupted into chaos in seconds.
I won't say that the announcement completely ruined my own reading of HPB, nor did it lessen my dismay upon finally reading the chapters in which his death took place. That's one of the strengths of J.K. Rowling's writing, at least for me- the empathy she is able to build up between her characters and the reader. Knowing Dumbledore was going to be killed did not make his actual demise and subsequent funeral any less impactful or sad. What the announcement did do was place me in a state of heightened awareness for the majority of the novel. There was thus significantly less enjoyment to be found in speculating what certain hints, conversations, or clues might have meant since I already knew who was destined for the chopping block. Any of you who have actually read the Harry Potter books knows that the ambiguity of the story can be half the fun ... you receive only as much information (or misinformation) as Rowling decides to allot you, and the rest will only come in time. That's why the release of DH is being looked forward to with so much enthusiasm; it supposedly answers all our questions. For HPB I lost that excitement of the book in one fell swoop, while en route to Texas on a smelly bus filled with brass players.
To that end, I'm begging anyone who reads this- please do not even hint at the plot of the story around me. Yes, I will be safely stowed on a construction site in Maryland for almost the entirety of next week, surrounded by construction workers who I can almost guarantee do not read Harry Potter, but still ... don't do it. Not this time. I promise upon my honor to return from Maryland and read the book as fast as physically possible so that we may all discuss ad nauseum the death roster, the ending, and why Rowling decided to do what she did. But until then, I implore you from the depths of my soul:
Don't tell me who dies.
So ... I love the Harry Potter series. Say what you will about its lack of description, seemingly predictable plot lines, one-dimensional treatment of female characters, sloppy verbiage, and sometimes excessively harped-on themes. You could also feel free to mention the ridiculous amount of overhyping it receives in the media or the fact that the world in which it takes place makes The Lord of the Rings seem plausible by comparison.
If you're being a real bitch, you could even just remind me that it's for children with a 4th grade reading level.
Regardless of all that, I've become yet another victim who falls into the Harry Potter trap every time a new book comes out. Whenever one hits the stands, I have no choice but to let go, drop my life into the hole for a while, and dig myself out page by page. Order of the Phoenix came out and I had it done in 5 days. Half-Blood Prince came out when I was on tour with the Cadets, but upon my return I finished it in three. Follow this pattern linearly, and I'd almost be willing to bet that I'll finish The Deathly Hallows in two full days or less, depending when I start it. To my mind that means it will have to be a Friday or Saturday, cause let's face it ... going into work isn't an option when there's Harry Potter to be read.
The reason I bring this up is due to the extreme amount of coverage on the apparent leakage of the final book's text online. Supposedly someone was able to obtain a copy of the publication, take pictures of each page, and then upload them to BitTorrent. Countless blogs and online news sources are currently covering this situation, many of which contain links that actually lead to the alleged text itself. Combine this leakage, the coverage behind it, and the fact that I won't be able to purchase the book probably until next Saturday (due to work travel), and I think it's safe to say that I'm in a considerable amount of spoiler-related danger. This is a threat I now take seriously, thanks to certain individuals who did their best to destroy the last novel for me.
It was during the summer of 2005, when HPB hit the shelves around mid-July or so. Most of us Cadets who were Harry Potter fans opted to not read it on tour, given that 1. we needed to be able to sleep 2. we wanted to be able to enjoy the book somewhere more comfortable than a raging hot bus and 3. once we started, we'd probably want to skip rehearsal every day in order to read it. To that end I didn't start reading the book myself until the day I got back from tour, and I finished it during late nights at gryphon training (a fact which got me in more narcoleptic trouble than I'd anticipated). The problem with waiting like that, though, was that there were several Cadets who did decide to read it on the bus. Being the fans they were, they also had little hesitance about discussing the book out loud amongst themselves. As more and more people told them to stop talking about it (often angrily), the readers became more and more perturbed with the whole situation. The eventual result was one angry reader who finally screamed "YOU KNOW WHAT? DUMBLEDORE DIES!"
I don't need to tell you that the bus erupted into chaos in seconds.
I won't say that the announcement completely ruined my own reading of HPB, nor did it lessen my dismay upon finally reading the chapters in which his death took place. That's one of the strengths of J.K. Rowling's writing, at least for me- the empathy she is able to build up between her characters and the reader. Knowing Dumbledore was going to be killed did not make his actual demise and subsequent funeral any less impactful or sad. What the announcement did do was place me in a state of heightened awareness for the majority of the novel. There was thus significantly less enjoyment to be found in speculating what certain hints, conversations, or clues might have meant since I already knew who was destined for the chopping block. Any of you who have actually read the Harry Potter books knows that the ambiguity of the story can be half the fun ... you receive only as much information (or misinformation) as Rowling decides to allot you, and the rest will only come in time. That's why the release of DH is being looked forward to with so much enthusiasm; it supposedly answers all our questions. For HPB I lost that excitement of the book in one fell swoop, while en route to Texas on a smelly bus filled with brass players.
To that end, I'm begging anyone who reads this- please do not even hint at the plot of the story around me. Yes, I will be safely stowed on a construction site in Maryland for almost the entirety of next week, surrounded by construction workers who I can almost guarantee do not read Harry Potter, but still ... don't do it. Not this time. I promise upon my honor to return from Maryland and read the book as fast as physically possible so that we may all discuss ad nauseum the death roster, the ending, and why Rowling decided to do what she did. But until then, I implore you from the depths of my soul:
Don't tell me who dies.
July 06, 2007
Morning Cocktail
Today's recipe for success is a direct result of how bad I felt at work all day yesterday. A quick stop at CVS and the grocery store allowed me to stock my bag with the following items. My goal is to not actually return to standard health levels, but to transcend them in a Superman-esque fashion. If I can lift a car by the end of the morning, so be it.
In my body/on my desk right now:
-lingering effects of Nyquil, taken at 9 PM last night
-Tylenol cold and flu daytime, taken at 7 AM
-a corn muffin
-20 oz. Gatorade, lemon-lime flavor
-16 oz. coffee, one shot cream and one shot sugar
-4 (800 mg) Advil pain relief tablets, taken at 7:02 AM
I guess it's no wonder that I was barely able to focus my eyes on the road this morning. My body was so bursting full of health additives that my soul was probably trying to escape.
Of note, the other reason I'm writing this down is that this recipe would make a great compliment to an all-nighter and I don't want to forget it. Let's say you're up studying at 3 AM sitting in Packard lab, you're not retaining any information anymore, you're probably crying and rocking back and forth in the fetal position ... but what's this? A whole cadre of pain relievers, carbohydrates, and caffeine right in front of you? Well hell, you can study till dawn now, and you might even pass. Thanks, stimulants!
On the topic of all-nighters, btw, I'm beginning to establish goals for the coming semester. My four formal lectures begin and end between 9 AM and noon all five days of the week, leaving me with 1-2 Martindale advisor meetings and 1-2 IBE team meetings to schedule in the afternoon. That's it. No labs or seminars to contend with at all. The end result of this is that there should be no excuse most days for me to grab lunch after class, head straight back to the lab, and have all my homework done before dinner. If you toss in getting some extra work done during those elusive Friday afternoon/Saturday morning time slots, then this semester could really turn around how I live. No more sleeping 4 hours a night all week, no more jittery hands, no more caffeine dependency, no more sleeping during class, and, ultimately, much less stress to deal with. 7-8 hours of sleep a night preceeded by a relaxing evening of TV/reading after my evening activities sounds absolutely glorious.
So that's one goal. Who knows, I might even enjoy it and end up a nicer person.
Btw, the Gatorade/coffee taste combination is really something special. Who knew that lemon, lime, coffee, and sugar wouldn't be a delicious amalgam of flavor?
Happy Friday.
Today's recipe for success is a direct result of how bad I felt at work all day yesterday. A quick stop at CVS and the grocery store allowed me to stock my bag with the following items. My goal is to not actually return to standard health levels, but to transcend them in a Superman-esque fashion. If I can lift a car by the end of the morning, so be it.
In my body/on my desk right now:
-lingering effects of Nyquil, taken at 9 PM last night
-Tylenol cold and flu daytime, taken at 7 AM
-a corn muffin
-20 oz. Gatorade, lemon-lime flavor
-16 oz. coffee, one shot cream and one shot sugar
-4 (800 mg) Advil pain relief tablets, taken at 7:02 AM
I guess it's no wonder that I was barely able to focus my eyes on the road this morning. My body was so bursting full of health additives that my soul was probably trying to escape.
Of note, the other reason I'm writing this down is that this recipe would make a great compliment to an all-nighter and I don't want to forget it. Let's say you're up studying at 3 AM sitting in Packard lab, you're not retaining any information anymore, you're probably crying and rocking back and forth in the fetal position ... but what's this? A whole cadre of pain relievers, carbohydrates, and caffeine right in front of you? Well hell, you can study till dawn now, and you might even pass. Thanks, stimulants!
On the topic of all-nighters, btw, I'm beginning to establish goals for the coming semester. My four formal lectures begin and end between 9 AM and noon all five days of the week, leaving me with 1-2 Martindale advisor meetings and 1-2 IBE team meetings to schedule in the afternoon. That's it. No labs or seminars to contend with at all. The end result of this is that there should be no excuse most days for me to grab lunch after class, head straight back to the lab, and have all my homework done before dinner. If you toss in getting some extra work done during those elusive Friday afternoon/Saturday morning time slots, then this semester could really turn around how I live. No more sleeping 4 hours a night all week, no more jittery hands, no more caffeine dependency, no more sleeping during class, and, ultimately, much less stress to deal with. 7-8 hours of sleep a night preceeded by a relaxing evening of TV/reading after my evening activities sounds absolutely glorious.
So that's one goal. Who knows, I might even enjoy it and end up a nicer person.
Btw, the Gatorade/coffee taste combination is really something special. Who knew that lemon, lime, coffee, and sugar wouldn't be a delicious amalgam of flavor?
Happy Friday.
June 29, 2007
"From the Depths of Hell, I Stabbath Thee"
Ten bucks if you can tell me where the title of this entry is originally quoted from. Five more if you can tell me what movie also used a variation on the quote to great effectiveness.
Anyway, I use that quote because I just finished the last BIS 111 exam three minutes ago. I couldn't be happier to have completed that class ... it's really the first course I've taken at Lehigh with absolutely no educational merit at all. Everything else, whether regarding economics, engineering, business, etc, has always had some form of learning that I was able to take advantage of while I was there. That even includes overall shitty classes like Management 280 and IBE 098, from which I learned about ISO 9000 Standards and logistics costs, respectively.
Note: BIS 111 is "Business Information Systems." It outlines how technology like computers and the Internet have allowed businesses to communicate and change in the modern world. The majority of the topics it covers, however, include things as basic as the parts of a computer and how data is sent through cables.
BIS 111 in and of itself, even when compared to those crappy classes, is a truly ridiculous experience. Anyone who has ever even looked at a computer and has two ounces of common sense can answer the majority of the test questions accurately. You might argue that the Microsoft Access tutorials are educational- but they are not. A monkey with his thumb in his butt and a cursory knowledge of how to navigate a "Help" menu could have completed the same exercises we did, and probably in the same amount of time. Learning about computer and internet design and structure might have been vaguely interesting, but the topic was presented in such little detail as to have been trivialized beyond any discernable value. Knowing, for example, that "programming" is the actual implementation of a computer system design is really just kinda ... I don't know ... universal? As in you've probably known what "programming" was since you first logged onto AOL 3.0 in 5th grade?
Given how stupid the class itself is, I can't express how happy I am to have taken it online instead of during the schoolyear. Having to sit through actual lectures on what a motherboard is three times a week would have been unbearable. I was luckily given the opportunity to completely skip any and all of the material (while still handing in homework), place reference tabs inside the textbook half an hour before the tests, and then take the tests. Studying hasn't been this easy since microeconomics with O'Brien. Having no homework and a set of cookie-cutter exams, I think I devoted a total of ten hours to that class outside of lecture the whole semester. Plus, there was even the extra bonus of watching business students burst into tears at the mention of partial derivatives. God, those were good times.
I will say this about the content of BIS 111 ... if you know it, you should be able to test out of it and not have to waste your time taking it. If you don't know it, jump on the bandwagon ASAP and figure it out. I'm no technology whiz- my primary computer functionality barely transcends word processing, google searching, e-mailing, and Starcraft- but this is stuff that is only going to become more prevalent and important in the future. That's undoubtedly why Lehigh is teaching it ... they're just doing it poorly.
So here's to the end of BIS 111. You were the ultimate Dead Monkey course, and I spit upon your grave.
Happy Friday.
Ten bucks if you can tell me where the title of this entry is originally quoted from. Five more if you can tell me what movie also used a variation on the quote to great effectiveness.
Anyway, I use that quote because I just finished the last BIS 111 exam three minutes ago. I couldn't be happier to have completed that class ... it's really the first course I've taken at Lehigh with absolutely no educational merit at all. Everything else, whether regarding economics, engineering, business, etc, has always had some form of learning that I was able to take advantage of while I was there. That even includes overall shitty classes like Management 280 and IBE 098, from which I learned about ISO 9000 Standards and logistics costs, respectively.
Note: BIS 111 is "Business Information Systems." It outlines how technology like computers and the Internet have allowed businesses to communicate and change in the modern world. The majority of the topics it covers, however, include things as basic as the parts of a computer and how data is sent through cables.
BIS 111 in and of itself, even when compared to those crappy classes, is a truly ridiculous experience. Anyone who has ever even looked at a computer and has two ounces of common sense can answer the majority of the test questions accurately. You might argue that the Microsoft Access tutorials are educational- but they are not. A monkey with his thumb in his butt and a cursory knowledge of how to navigate a "Help" menu could have completed the same exercises we did, and probably in the same amount of time. Learning about computer and internet design and structure might have been vaguely interesting, but the topic was presented in such little detail as to have been trivialized beyond any discernable value. Knowing, for example, that "programming" is the actual implementation of a computer system design is really just kinda ... I don't know ... universal? As in you've probably known what "programming" was since you first logged onto AOL 3.0 in 5th grade?
Given how stupid the class itself is, I can't express how happy I am to have taken it online instead of during the schoolyear. Having to sit through actual lectures on what a motherboard is three times a week would have been unbearable. I was luckily given the opportunity to completely skip any and all of the material (while still handing in homework), place reference tabs inside the textbook half an hour before the tests, and then take the tests. Studying hasn't been this easy since microeconomics with O'Brien. Having no homework and a set of cookie-cutter exams, I think I devoted a total of ten hours to that class outside of lecture the whole semester. Plus, there was even the extra bonus of watching business students burst into tears at the mention of partial derivatives. God, those were good times.
I will say this about the content of BIS 111 ... if you know it, you should be able to test out of it and not have to waste your time taking it. If you don't know it, jump on the bandwagon ASAP and figure it out. I'm no technology whiz- my primary computer functionality barely transcends word processing, google searching, e-mailing, and Starcraft- but this is stuff that is only going to become more prevalent and important in the future. That's undoubtedly why Lehigh is teaching it ... they're just doing it poorly.
So here's to the end of BIS 111. You were the ultimate Dead Monkey course, and I spit upon your grave.
Happy Friday.
June 27, 2007
Random Access Memory
I love the ability to instantly recall a memory as the result of some sensory input. The most intense memories for me always happen due to sound and smell ... the former more than the latter, typically. Any memory-jogging stimulus can be moving, but certain songs never fail to stop me in my tracks.
The following songs have the distinct ability to cease whatever productive function I might have been performing. I'm sure there are more, but this is what I found on my iPod this morning:
1. The Zone [Dreamscapes in Four Parts with a Door], The Cadets
For obvious reasons I will stop whatever I'm doing if any part of this show comes within my hearing range. Often I'll simply close my eyes and let myself mentally perform the show again. In my memories, though, there's never any pain or injury or exhaustion ... just the Holy Name. It's glorious.
2. Dancer, Bjork
This song comes on and I see a sunrise, a morning, or a new day. There's such a simple elegance and sense of hope to it that I can't help but feel moved each time it's played. Recently it's also become the song my alarm clock plays in the morning.
3. Till There Was You, Empire Brass
It's a great ballad anyway, but the Empire Brass made it into a trombone solo.
4. Sun and Moon, Miss Saigon
I began marching with the CHS band in 2000, the year that the band played the music of Miss Saigon. Although we never fared very well competitively, that season will always be one of the favorite Falls of my life. I mention this song in particular because it was arguably the most effective part of the show ... the first half was played backfield, eventually leading to the climax as the two halves of the band merged together, turned forward, and kneeled as one. My Mom said that at Finals that moment made her cry.
5. Reve Rouge, Cirque De Soleil
The only saxophone solo I have ever loved, let alone could stand for more than 6 seconds.
6. 23 Degrees North, 82 Degrees West, Stan Kenton
This song has one of the most badass trombone features that has ever been written for big band jazz. It also has the late Maynard Ferguson in his prime, squealing unnecessarily high for unnecessarily long periods of time. The 2004 CHS jazz band certainly didn't do it justice, but at Finals I hit the Db in the solo and man was it fun to play.
7. Touch Me, Spring Awakening
To me this song is the closest anyone has ever come to musically representing the sensation of sharing your heart, mind, and body with another. If you haven't heard it or the show itself, do so immediately.
8. Batman, Danny Elfman
I love the Dark Knight.
9. For Good, Wicked
This song actually spurns up a couple of ideas whenever I hear it, many of them very sad. The first is what's going to happen a year from now, at college graduation ... I'm realizing more and more that there are many friends I will miss very dearly upon our departure from Old South Mountain. It's a day I'm looking forward to as a triumph but also dreading for what it will truly mean. New beginnings can be so tough, although I think this time we're all more ready than we were for the last few.
The other, more macabre notion I think of when this song plays is the loss of the older members of my family in the decades to come. I know I shouldn't be thinking of that, but my grandparents don't live the healthiest lifestyle and are gradually becoming more and more stereotypically "old." The verse that gets me is the one Elphaba sings alone ... "you'll be with me like a handprint on my heart."
10. Danny Boy, Irish Tune
I've mentioned this one before. The performance went very well, at least for me.
Happy Wednesday ... and listen to something that moves you today, if you can. It's always worth it.
I love the ability to instantly recall a memory as the result of some sensory input. The most intense memories for me always happen due to sound and smell ... the former more than the latter, typically. Any memory-jogging stimulus can be moving, but certain songs never fail to stop me in my tracks.
The following songs have the distinct ability to cease whatever productive function I might have been performing. I'm sure there are more, but this is what I found on my iPod this morning:
1. The Zone [Dreamscapes in Four Parts with a Door], The Cadets
For obvious reasons I will stop whatever I'm doing if any part of this show comes within my hearing range. Often I'll simply close my eyes and let myself mentally perform the show again. In my memories, though, there's never any pain or injury or exhaustion ... just the Holy Name. It's glorious.
2. Dancer, Bjork
This song comes on and I see a sunrise, a morning, or a new day. There's such a simple elegance and sense of hope to it that I can't help but feel moved each time it's played. Recently it's also become the song my alarm clock plays in the morning.
3. Till There Was You, Empire Brass
It's a great ballad anyway, but the Empire Brass made it into a trombone solo.
4. Sun and Moon, Miss Saigon
I began marching with the CHS band in 2000, the year that the band played the music of Miss Saigon. Although we never fared very well competitively, that season will always be one of the favorite Falls of my life. I mention this song in particular because it was arguably the most effective part of the show ... the first half was played backfield, eventually leading to the climax as the two halves of the band merged together, turned forward, and kneeled as one. My Mom said that at Finals that moment made her cry.
5. Reve Rouge, Cirque De Soleil
The only saxophone solo I have ever loved, let alone could stand for more than 6 seconds.
6. 23 Degrees North, 82 Degrees West, Stan Kenton
This song has one of the most badass trombone features that has ever been written for big band jazz. It also has the late Maynard Ferguson in his prime, squealing unnecessarily high for unnecessarily long periods of time. The 2004 CHS jazz band certainly didn't do it justice, but at Finals I hit the Db in the solo and man was it fun to play.
7. Touch Me, Spring Awakening
To me this song is the closest anyone has ever come to musically representing the sensation of sharing your heart, mind, and body with another. If you haven't heard it or the show itself, do so immediately.
8. Batman, Danny Elfman
I love the Dark Knight.
9. For Good, Wicked
This song actually spurns up a couple of ideas whenever I hear it, many of them very sad. The first is what's going to happen a year from now, at college graduation ... I'm realizing more and more that there are many friends I will miss very dearly upon our departure from Old South Mountain. It's a day I'm looking forward to as a triumph but also dreading for what it will truly mean. New beginnings can be so tough, although I think this time we're all more ready than we were for the last few.
The other, more macabre notion I think of when this song plays is the loss of the older members of my family in the decades to come. I know I shouldn't be thinking of that, but my grandparents don't live the healthiest lifestyle and are gradually becoming more and more stereotypically "old." The verse that gets me is the one Elphaba sings alone ... "you'll be with me like a handprint on my heart."
10. Danny Boy, Irish Tune
I've mentioned this one before. The performance went very well, at least for me.
Happy Wednesday ... and listen to something that moves you today, if you can. It's always worth it.
June 22, 2007
All'alba Vincero
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA
I love that song. I'm not at all well versed in opera or even Turandot itself, but there's just something about the passion with which Nessum Dorma must be sung. It's a proclamation ... a definitive decree that The Prince won't have just the hand of Turandot, but her love as well. The last line (the one repeated three times), if it's sung the way Paul Potts does it, never fails to bring tears to my eyes.
Beautiful.
I had a feeling I'd heard this song on the drum corps field, as well, and sure enough I had. The link below is Nessun Dorma played by the 1991 Phantom Regiment. It's not exactly the best move from stage to turf (certainly not as effective as the Regiment was in their transposition of Ave Maria last summer), but the shear power of the melody is still there.
http://www.regiment.org/sounds.cfm
So there's a bit of culture on this wonderful Friday morning. Cheers.
Italian
"Nessun dorma, nessun dorma ...
Tu pure, o Principessa,
Nella tua fredda stanza,
Guardi le stelle
Che tremano d'amore
E di speranza.
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,
Il nome mio nessun saprà, no, no,
Sulla tua bocca lo dirò
Quando la luce splenderà,
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio
Che ti fa mia.
Dilegua, o notte!
Tramontate, stelle!
All'alba vincerò!"
English
"No one sleeps, no one sleeps...
Even you, o Princess,
In your cold room,
Watch the stars,
That tremble with love
And with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me;
My name no one shall know, no, no,
On your mouth I will speak it
When the light shines,
And my kiss will dissolve the silence
That makes you mine.
Vanish, o night!
Set, stars!
At daybreak, I shall conquer!"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k08yxu57NA
I love that song. I'm not at all well versed in opera or even Turandot itself, but there's just something about the passion with which Nessum Dorma must be sung. It's a proclamation ... a definitive decree that The Prince won't have just the hand of Turandot, but her love as well. The last line (the one repeated three times), if it's sung the way Paul Potts does it, never fails to bring tears to my eyes.
Beautiful.
I had a feeling I'd heard this song on the drum corps field, as well, and sure enough I had. The link below is Nessun Dorma played by the 1991 Phantom Regiment. It's not exactly the best move from stage to turf (certainly not as effective as the Regiment was in their transposition of Ave Maria last summer), but the shear power of the melody is still there.
http://www.regiment.org/sounds.cfm
So there's a bit of culture on this wonderful Friday morning. Cheers.
Italian
"Nessun dorma, nessun dorma ...
Tu pure, o Principessa,
Nella tua fredda stanza,
Guardi le stelle
Che tremano d'amore
E di speranza.
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,
Il nome mio nessun saprà, no, no,
Sulla tua bocca lo dirò
Quando la luce splenderà,
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio
Che ti fa mia.
Dilegua, o notte!
Tramontate, stelle!
All'alba vincerò!"
English
"No one sleeps, no one sleeps...
Even you, o Princess,
In your cold room,
Watch the stars,
That tremble with love
And with hope.
But my secret is hidden within me;
My name no one shall know, no, no,
On your mouth I will speak it
When the light shines,
And my kiss will dissolve the silence
That makes you mine.
Vanish, o night!
Set, stars!
At daybreak, I shall conquer!"
June 11, 2007
Easy to Explain
I finally figured out something that's been confusing me for a while. In high school I never had trouble with it, nor during my first year of college. But since then, long about the time I got back from the Cadets, there's just something about practicing where I don't get as much out of it anymore. For jazz band and state try-outs, I would practice an hour or two every night on top of rehearsals and lessons during school. Going into my audition for Gino, I practiced the same amount at Zoellner and recorded everything I did for almost six months. There was just something about practicing that validated my day and made me feel productive. It would calm me down, focus my thoughts, and reinforce something that had brought me so much joy in my youth.
Nowadays, practicing is a chore. I'm lucky if I get there once or twice a week this summer, let alone the 4-5 days I should optimally be doing to preserve and reconstruct my chops. For a while I thought the problem was lack of new music, lack of improvement, lack of instruction, or simply being tired from doing other things. Fortunately, I think I finally figured it out.
In high school, band and music were my thing. All my best friends were in band, I idolized our directors, and I was completely accepted there. Practicing was something I did to develop myself in that place where I felt so at home. I did it to prove that I belonged there and could play alongside those I cared about. To let them know that I would never fail them when the time came ... that they could count on me to be their harmony. Their background. Or just the middle tenor voice in a sound that was all our own. I wanted to make my teachers proud and play with my very dear friends. I did it for myself too, of course, but looking back now the dependency to my friends is so clear. That group was really the first true group of friends I had that was close-knit, consistent, and trusting ... and music was the key that had unlocked that door and made it possible.
In college music took on a different feel. I met new friends in various organizations, some of whom have become very good friends in the years since then, but for the most part no one really knew me. My practicing during freshman year wasn't about my friends anymore, but two other different and very distinct concepts. The first was identity- music had been such a defining factor in my life that, surrounded by the Lehigh environment and my own insecurity, I clung to it all the more tightly that first year. This is among the reasons why I (and most people, I think) attach themselves all the more tightly to that which they take with them when they move. We'll all do the same thing in a year or two after graduating college, in all likelihood.
The second part of my music dependency freshman year was something along the lines of zealotry. That year was the first, last, and only shot I had at participating in my life's dream ... and God knows I do the most damage when I'm pursuing something with that kind of devotion. I practiced out of hope and fear so that I could stand there and say to the world "I am a Cadet," pure and simple.
But since then, there's been nothing to rehearse for, no instructors to practice for, and no jazz band to rock out festivals every Friday night in the Spring. And as sad as I am to admit it, playing music is a significantly smaller part of my life now. Listening to music and seeing it live will never stop being intrinsic aspects of my existence, but why do I still play it? That's the answer to my original question, and why practicing is so hard now.
I play music now because the most basic parts of performing are still so incredibly beautiful to me. The sound that you make when a chord just perfectly locks in. The balance that you try to achieve. The notion of playing beside a good friend or a bunch of good friends, and knowing that you have that connection because of music. The intensity of a song that's loud and fast, and technically difficult to the point of impossibility. I think the problem with all those is that, unlike before when validation came in the form of individual self-confidence and pride, validation now comes solely from the act of actually playing with people. Playing alone doesn't give me the same satisfaction as it used to ... but playing with an ensemble still does. Music binds and interlinks the people performing it in ways that even they can't understand, but for the most part it's suffice to say that the connection is always there.
I will always love Team JB and the late nights we shared driving around in the Buick, or the endless amount of time spent in Starbucks, or every day when I walked into the band room and knew that my friends were going to be there. I will always cherish the scent of cut grass, the feel of an evening summer breeze, and the sight of the orange sky as the sun sets ... because they take me back to a time that will forever be one of the greatest of my life. But now I'm beginning to realize that the role music has in my life is different- and that's okay.
Here's to growing up ... and maybe not feeling so bad about missing out on practicing for the last two weeks. Whoops.
I finally figured out something that's been confusing me for a while. In high school I never had trouble with it, nor during my first year of college. But since then, long about the time I got back from the Cadets, there's just something about practicing where I don't get as much out of it anymore. For jazz band and state try-outs, I would practice an hour or two every night on top of rehearsals and lessons during school. Going into my audition for Gino, I practiced the same amount at Zoellner and recorded everything I did for almost six months. There was just something about practicing that validated my day and made me feel productive. It would calm me down, focus my thoughts, and reinforce something that had brought me so much joy in my youth.
Nowadays, practicing is a chore. I'm lucky if I get there once or twice a week this summer, let alone the 4-5 days I should optimally be doing to preserve and reconstruct my chops. For a while I thought the problem was lack of new music, lack of improvement, lack of instruction, or simply being tired from doing other things. Fortunately, I think I finally figured it out.
In high school, band and music were my thing. All my best friends were in band, I idolized our directors, and I was completely accepted there. Practicing was something I did to develop myself in that place where I felt so at home. I did it to prove that I belonged there and could play alongside those I cared about. To let them know that I would never fail them when the time came ... that they could count on me to be their harmony. Their background. Or just the middle tenor voice in a sound that was all our own. I wanted to make my teachers proud and play with my very dear friends. I did it for myself too, of course, but looking back now the dependency to my friends is so clear. That group was really the first true group of friends I had that was close-knit, consistent, and trusting ... and music was the key that had unlocked that door and made it possible.
In college music took on a different feel. I met new friends in various organizations, some of whom have become very good friends in the years since then, but for the most part no one really knew me. My practicing during freshman year wasn't about my friends anymore, but two other different and very distinct concepts. The first was identity- music had been such a defining factor in my life that, surrounded by the Lehigh environment and my own insecurity, I clung to it all the more tightly that first year. This is among the reasons why I (and most people, I think) attach themselves all the more tightly to that which they take with them when they move. We'll all do the same thing in a year or two after graduating college, in all likelihood.
The second part of my music dependency freshman year was something along the lines of zealotry. That year was the first, last, and only shot I had at participating in my life's dream ... and God knows I do the most damage when I'm pursuing something with that kind of devotion. I practiced out of hope and fear so that I could stand there and say to the world "I am a Cadet," pure and simple.
But since then, there's been nothing to rehearse for, no instructors to practice for, and no jazz band to rock out festivals every Friday night in the Spring. And as sad as I am to admit it, playing music is a significantly smaller part of my life now. Listening to music and seeing it live will never stop being intrinsic aspects of my existence, but why do I still play it? That's the answer to my original question, and why practicing is so hard now.
I play music now because the most basic parts of performing are still so incredibly beautiful to me. The sound that you make when a chord just perfectly locks in. The balance that you try to achieve. The notion of playing beside a good friend or a bunch of good friends, and knowing that you have that connection because of music. The intensity of a song that's loud and fast, and technically difficult to the point of impossibility. I think the problem with all those is that, unlike before when validation came in the form of individual self-confidence and pride, validation now comes solely from the act of actually playing with people. Playing alone doesn't give me the same satisfaction as it used to ... but playing with an ensemble still does. Music binds and interlinks the people performing it in ways that even they can't understand, but for the most part it's suffice to say that the connection is always there.
I will always love Team JB and the late nights we shared driving around in the Buick, or the endless amount of time spent in Starbucks, or every day when I walked into the band room and knew that my friends were going to be there. I will always cherish the scent of cut grass, the feel of an evening summer breeze, and the sight of the orange sky as the sun sets ... because they take me back to a time that will forever be one of the greatest of my life. But now I'm beginning to realize that the role music has in my life is different- and that's okay.
Here's to growing up ... and maybe not feeling so bad about missing out on practicing for the last two weeks. Whoops.
June 07, 2007
This Idea is Tough to Remember
Good morning. You've got a choice today. You've got a thousand choices today. Most don't matter, and you'll forget them in five minutes. Radio talk show or music in the car. Soda or water for lunch. Vendor A or Vendor B. Call home during lunch or wait till the afternoon. Use the bathroom now or wait 15 minutes. Go to class or don't go to class. Call a friend or have a night alone. Get your work done perfectly or do something else. Like I said, most don't matter, and you'll forget them in five minutes.
But once in a while, one of them is going to change your life. You might know it, you might not. Picking a pizza topping doesn't matter. Picking a college does. Holding a day meeting presentation at 8 AM doesn't matter. Auditioning for a seat in the London Philharmonic does. Skipping lab might not matter ... but going to lab might mean walking into the woman you marry. Would you have met her if you stayed in bed? Who knows. Chance can't be underestimated, after all.
That's the deal, then. Some choices you know matter. Is everything else chance? Could be. Might not be. Do everything right all the time and you could get hit by a car. Do everything wrong all the time and you could win the lottery. Parity is not requisite for living, but you knew that.
What about others? The people around you? They're why you got up today, didn't you? You wanted to laugh with them, talk to them, cry with them, hold them, yell at them, be angry with them, fall in love with them, be loved by them, support them, listen to them, fight for them, fight with them, forget them, remember them, be ignored by them, and just sit next to them in the car for a second before the light changes. That guy singing in the Honda ... who knows what his deal is, but he made your day during the traffic jam on 22, didn't he? Man, did he suck. But oh, did he sing with passion. Stranger or friend, enemy or parent, those people are why you got up today. And whoever they are, they're expecting something of you. Your mom wants you to be happy, be successful, be you. The guy across the hall wants your project to fail so his funding will increase. Your teacher wants you to learn- either because she wants to save her own job or because she thinks you might be something someday. The guy at the deli just wants you to order faster so he can go the hell home. Bottom line ... you've got to deliver something every day.
So what are you going to do? You're going to go in there with everything you've got. Guns blazing. Light the place up and leave nothing behind when you're done. And if that's not enough for them ... for whomever you're pouring yourself out to ... well then that's okay. It won't always work out. You might ruin the day of that guy at the deli. You might fail a test. You might be told that a relationship is over. And God knows it might hurt. Hell, it might hurt a lot. Rejection does. But above all, that's okay. Because in the end, you'll have no regrets. If you go out there, really put yourself out there and be nothing but yourself, every day, in everything you do ... then you've done all anyone can ever do. When things succeed, that's just phenomenal, isn't it? You could fly when things do that. But if it doesn't ... that's when you go find some friends, they pick you up, and tomorrow morning the sun rises again. The most important thing is that you keep going and never stop going, and who knows ... the next thing you know you might just find what you're looking for. If you even know what that is.
And if you don't find what you're looking for, I'll bet you're okay with it. I'll bet all that I have on it ... because if I choose to live this way, like you, I don't have a choice. I have to believe that you, and I, and everyone will all be okay with it.
After all- we lived, didn't we?
Damn right we did.
Good morning. You've got a choice today. You've got a thousand choices today. Most don't matter, and you'll forget them in five minutes. Radio talk show or music in the car. Soda or water for lunch. Vendor A or Vendor B. Call home during lunch or wait till the afternoon. Use the bathroom now or wait 15 minutes. Go to class or don't go to class. Call a friend or have a night alone. Get your work done perfectly or do something else. Like I said, most don't matter, and you'll forget them in five minutes.
But once in a while, one of them is going to change your life. You might know it, you might not. Picking a pizza topping doesn't matter. Picking a college does. Holding a day meeting presentation at 8 AM doesn't matter. Auditioning for a seat in the London Philharmonic does. Skipping lab might not matter ... but going to lab might mean walking into the woman you marry. Would you have met her if you stayed in bed? Who knows. Chance can't be underestimated, after all.
That's the deal, then. Some choices you know matter. Is everything else chance? Could be. Might not be. Do everything right all the time and you could get hit by a car. Do everything wrong all the time and you could win the lottery. Parity is not requisite for living, but you knew that.
What about others? The people around you? They're why you got up today, didn't you? You wanted to laugh with them, talk to them, cry with them, hold them, yell at them, be angry with them, fall in love with them, be loved by them, support them, listen to them, fight for them, fight with them, forget them, remember them, be ignored by them, and just sit next to them in the car for a second before the light changes. That guy singing in the Honda ... who knows what his deal is, but he made your day during the traffic jam on 22, didn't he? Man, did he suck. But oh, did he sing with passion. Stranger or friend, enemy or parent, those people are why you got up today. And whoever they are, they're expecting something of you. Your mom wants you to be happy, be successful, be you. The guy across the hall wants your project to fail so his funding will increase. Your teacher wants you to learn- either because she wants to save her own job or because she thinks you might be something someday. The guy at the deli just wants you to order faster so he can go the hell home. Bottom line ... you've got to deliver something every day.
So what are you going to do? You're going to go in there with everything you've got. Guns blazing. Light the place up and leave nothing behind when you're done. And if that's not enough for them ... for whomever you're pouring yourself out to ... well then that's okay. It won't always work out. You might ruin the day of that guy at the deli. You might fail a test. You might be told that a relationship is over. And God knows it might hurt. Hell, it might hurt a lot. Rejection does. But above all, that's okay. Because in the end, you'll have no regrets. If you go out there, really put yourself out there and be nothing but yourself, every day, in everything you do ... then you've done all anyone can ever do. When things succeed, that's just phenomenal, isn't it? You could fly when things do that. But if it doesn't ... that's when you go find some friends, they pick you up, and tomorrow morning the sun rises again. The most important thing is that you keep going and never stop going, and who knows ... the next thing you know you might just find what you're looking for. If you even know what that is.
And if you don't find what you're looking for, I'll bet you're okay with it. I'll bet all that I have on it ... because if I choose to live this way, like you, I don't have a choice. I have to believe that you, and I, and everyone will all be okay with it.
After all- we lived, didn't we?
Damn right we did.
May 25, 2007
The Summer of George
The 6 weeks from hell have passed. The semester ended well, all loose ends were tied up, all obligations were completed, and most graduating friends were caught up with before they left. I went to Europe for two weeks after all that and had an amazing time. I then moved into the off-campus house I'll be living in for the summer and have since been unpacking, practicing, running, lifting, reading, and enjoying the company of others. Right now I'm at home (today is my brother's birthday) to see family for the first time in three months, then it's back to PA on Sunday to see Memorial Brass. On Tuesday I start work in Allentown, doing who knows what yet. Then it's a mere 12 weeks until gryphon training and the start of my last undergraduate year of college. There are lots of friends staying at Lehigh for the summer, and there's even a girl I've started to see, unofficially.
In short, we have the makings of a great, great summer.
I therefore submit a list of goals I wish to complete in that time. Some are personal, some are skill-based, others are just milestones for things that have already begun. Some are solo endeavors, while others (mostly the skill-based ones) will require the help of friends. All are important to me, to some degree, and I can only hope to finish as many of them as I can.
-re-learn parallel parking ... it caused me to fail the driving test once and now it's costing me my manliness
-learn how to cook beyond the level of boiling noodles and heating frozen waffles
-run 1 mile in 6 minutes
-run 3 miles in 20 minutes
-bench more than 100 pounds, 3 sets (this might have to wait till the fall unless I can find a lifting partner)
-regain my chops and perform the entirety of the Rimsky-Korsakov solo
-play as many sports as possible / spend as much time outdoors as possible
-read, and not just Harry Potter 7
-do not play video games
-see the Cadets and drum corps as often as possible
-see the Phillies as often as possible
-go to the shore
-go to amusement parks (Dorney Park, Great Adventure, etc)
-go to NYC at least once ... there must be a show I haven't seen yet
-spend no weekend night in alone ... that's why I quit gryphoning
-begin and finish as much Martindale research as I possibly can and finalize the topic with the professors
-slam BUS 111 like a car door
-learn to wash dishes so that I do not shame my housemates
-learn to shoot things / wage combat upon my enemies
-lastly for this list and perhaps most importantly ... learn to let go
That last one is the one I'm kind of struggling with right now ... a life of living by the book, never getting into real trouble, and never taking real risk has left me clinging to the comparably small comfort zone that I've constructed for myself. But this last school year, spent mostly single and working with no risks being taken at all, has shown me that that's not how I really want to live. Anyone can wake up each day and go to sleep each night without going outside what they're comfortable doing. The thing is, there's no joy in that because that comfort zone comes with minimal communication, trust, and intimacy with others, at least in my case.
So during the day, even as I try to let go and just enjoy some relaxation before work starts, I find myself being drawn back in. I question myself about things in my life simply because there are no concrete answers to fall back on for re-assurance. Part of me wants to put a stop to all of it and take the easy way out ... live at home, work back at Lockheed Martin for the summer, not go anywhere new, and watch time pass until classes started again. It's really silly when you think about it- the idea that just living in an off-campus house and exploring some new increase in independence is giving me such a sense of nervousness. But that's exactly what's happening. Whether it's obtaining new work, figuring out some of those skills I listed above, or starting to date again ... I just need to find a way to let go. To relax and let things take their course. If you just wake up and do the best you can each day, adapting and rolling with the punches, odds are things will work out. That's not always true, either, but ... I guess you just have to trust in yourself and remain positive.
So that's what I'm going to do.
Here's to the Summer of George ... for now it's time to go get a haircut. As much as I love the Chewbacca look I have going, I think I'll look better for it.
The 6 weeks from hell have passed. The semester ended well, all loose ends were tied up, all obligations were completed, and most graduating friends were caught up with before they left. I went to Europe for two weeks after all that and had an amazing time. I then moved into the off-campus house I'll be living in for the summer and have since been unpacking, practicing, running, lifting, reading, and enjoying the company of others. Right now I'm at home (today is my brother's birthday) to see family for the first time in three months, then it's back to PA on Sunday to see Memorial Brass. On Tuesday I start work in Allentown, doing who knows what yet. Then it's a mere 12 weeks until gryphon training and the start of my last undergraduate year of college. There are lots of friends staying at Lehigh for the summer, and there's even a girl I've started to see, unofficially.
In short, we have the makings of a great, great summer.
I therefore submit a list of goals I wish to complete in that time. Some are personal, some are skill-based, others are just milestones for things that have already begun. Some are solo endeavors, while others (mostly the skill-based ones) will require the help of friends. All are important to me, to some degree, and I can only hope to finish as many of them as I can.
-re-learn parallel parking ... it caused me to fail the driving test once and now it's costing me my manliness
-learn how to cook beyond the level of boiling noodles and heating frozen waffles
-run 1 mile in 6 minutes
-run 3 miles in 20 minutes
-bench more than 100 pounds, 3 sets (this might have to wait till the fall unless I can find a lifting partner)
-regain my chops and perform the entirety of the Rimsky-Korsakov solo
-play as many sports as possible / spend as much time outdoors as possible
-read, and not just Harry Potter 7
-do not play video games
-see the Cadets and drum corps as often as possible
-see the Phillies as often as possible
-go to the shore
-go to amusement parks (Dorney Park, Great Adventure, etc)
-go to NYC at least once ... there must be a show I haven't seen yet
-spend no weekend night in alone ... that's why I quit gryphoning
-begin and finish as much Martindale research as I possibly can and finalize the topic with the professors
-slam BUS 111 like a car door
-learn to wash dishes so that I do not shame my housemates
-learn to shoot things / wage combat upon my enemies
-lastly for this list and perhaps most importantly ... learn to let go
That last one is the one I'm kind of struggling with right now ... a life of living by the book, never getting into real trouble, and never taking real risk has left me clinging to the comparably small comfort zone that I've constructed for myself. But this last school year, spent mostly single and working with no risks being taken at all, has shown me that that's not how I really want to live. Anyone can wake up each day and go to sleep each night without going outside what they're comfortable doing. The thing is, there's no joy in that because that comfort zone comes with minimal communication, trust, and intimacy with others, at least in my case.
So during the day, even as I try to let go and just enjoy some relaxation before work starts, I find myself being drawn back in. I question myself about things in my life simply because there are no concrete answers to fall back on for re-assurance. Part of me wants to put a stop to all of it and take the easy way out ... live at home, work back at Lockheed Martin for the summer, not go anywhere new, and watch time pass until classes started again. It's really silly when you think about it- the idea that just living in an off-campus house and exploring some new increase in independence is giving me such a sense of nervousness. But that's exactly what's happening. Whether it's obtaining new work, figuring out some of those skills I listed above, or starting to date again ... I just need to find a way to let go. To relax and let things take their course. If you just wake up and do the best you can each day, adapting and rolling with the punches, odds are things will work out. That's not always true, either, but ... I guess you just have to trust in yourself and remain positive.
So that's what I'm going to do.
Here's to the Summer of George ... for now it's time to go get a haircut. As much as I love the Chewbacca look I have going, I think I'll look better for it.
April 23, 2007
Get Busy Livin'
26 days to go before a bit of respite. I think that despite the work and low amount of sleep that's been happening, I'm the happiest that I have been all semester. What's more, the summer is falling into place more and more each day. I pushed back my work start date to the 29th of May, giving me a week between Europe and Air Products ... the importance of that change can't be overstated. The big question I have right now, though, is whether or not I should follow through with summer gryphoning. Here's what I see as the pro's and con's of that choice:
Pro's
-free summer housing (savings of approximately $2,000)
-guaranteed parking and storage for the summer and all the time in between
-opportunity to work with friends on staff
Con's
-very frequent weekend duty (lessening freedom, road trips, and visits home)
-pointless activities such as bulletin boards, door decorations, and programs
-less ability to do ridiculous things without consequences
-possibly having to hold others accountable for their actions
-not living with other friends in an off-campus environment
Even as I write this, I think I'm sold on the idea of not working as a gryphon for the summer. Life's too short and the money's just not worth the lost opportunities and possibilities of an independent three months. God knows I'm being paid exorbant amounts of money for having little to no working knowledge of anything; I might as well exploit that.
The decision has been made. I'll make the changes tomorrow.
Here's to a summer of friends, nights out, baseball games, drum corps shows, trips to cities, visits home, running in the sun, and whatever else happens between now and then.
26 days to go before a bit of respite. I think that despite the work and low amount of sleep that's been happening, I'm the happiest that I have been all semester. What's more, the summer is falling into place more and more each day. I pushed back my work start date to the 29th of May, giving me a week between Europe and Air Products ... the importance of that change can't be overstated. The big question I have right now, though, is whether or not I should follow through with summer gryphoning. Here's what I see as the pro's and con's of that choice:
Pro's
-free summer housing (savings of approximately $2,000)
-guaranteed parking and storage for the summer and all the time in between
-opportunity to work with friends on staff
Con's
-very frequent weekend duty (lessening freedom, road trips, and visits home)
-pointless activities such as bulletin boards, door decorations, and programs
-less ability to do ridiculous things without consequences
-possibly having to hold others accountable for their actions
-not living with other friends in an off-campus environment
Even as I write this, I think I'm sold on the idea of not working as a gryphon for the summer. Life's too short and the money's just not worth the lost opportunities and possibilities of an independent three months. God knows I'm being paid exorbant amounts of money for having little to no working knowledge of anything; I might as well exploit that.
The decision has been made. I'll make the changes tomorrow.
Here's to a summer of friends, nights out, baseball games, drum corps shows, trips to cities, visits home, running in the sun, and whatever else happens between now and then.
April 13, 2007
I'm Excited
As a disclaimer before I write this, let me just say that I know everyone's schedule looks this way. I'm not complaining or lamenting the list I'm about to post ... it's just wildly exciting.
Godspeed to all of you in your endeavors as the year draws to a close.
Today's Date: April 13
April 15 - Brass Choir Performance
April 17 - Lab Proposal Due, Lab Final, Research Trip to Podiatrist
April 18 - IBE Poster Design Due
April 19 - Brass Choir Performance, Elements Project Part III Due
April 23 - IBE Presentation Dry Run
April 26 - Martindale Send-off Banquet, Wind Ensemble Dress Rehearsal, Elements Project Part IV Due, Gas Dynamics Project Due, Manufacturing Final Report Due (??)
April 29 - Wind Ensemble Concert, KKY Nu Class Social, Grandparents Visiting
April 30 - IBE Final Presentation
May 1 - Gas Dynamics Final
May 2 - Management Final
May 3 - Elements Final
May 4 - IBE Final Report Due, Dad's Birthday
May 5 - Manufacturing Final (??)
May 6-8 - Move, Storage, Home
May 9-20 - Martindale Trip to Benelux
May 20 - Fly to US, Move to Lehigh
May 21 - Start Summer Gryphoning, Internship at Air Products, and BUS 111 Class Online
May 25 - Pirates 3 Released, Brother's Birthday, Collapse
For the next 42 days ... it's circle drill continuous.
I love it.
As a disclaimer before I write this, let me just say that I know everyone's schedule looks this way. I'm not complaining or lamenting the list I'm about to post ... it's just wildly exciting.
Godspeed to all of you in your endeavors as the year draws to a close.
Today's Date: April 13
April 15 - Brass Choir Performance
April 17 - Lab Proposal Due, Lab Final, Research Trip to Podiatrist
April 18 - IBE Poster Design Due
April 19 - Brass Choir Performance, Elements Project Part III Due
April 23 - IBE Presentation Dry Run
April 26 - Martindale Send-off Banquet, Wind Ensemble Dress Rehearsal, Elements Project Part IV Due, Gas Dynamics Project Due, Manufacturing Final Report Due (??)
April 29 - Wind Ensemble Concert, KKY Nu Class Social, Grandparents Visiting
April 30 - IBE Final Presentation
May 1 - Gas Dynamics Final
May 2 - Management Final
May 3 - Elements Final
May 4 - IBE Final Report Due, Dad's Birthday
May 5 - Manufacturing Final (??)
May 6-8 - Move, Storage, Home
May 9-20 - Martindale Trip to Benelux
May 20 - Fly to US, Move to Lehigh
May 21 - Start Summer Gryphoning, Internship at Air Products, and BUS 111 Class Online
May 25 - Pirates 3 Released, Brother's Birthday, Collapse
For the next 42 days ... it's circle drill continuous.
I love it.
April 09, 2007
Martin Thomas
I never knew my paternal grandfather ... he died several years before I was born. If generational history and patterns are to be believed, though, I imagine he must have been a lot like my dad. It's my opinion that my brother and I both inherited at least half of our personalities from our father. I received his near-irrational love of work, his love of achievement, his preference to often let his performance speak for him. My brother, to my mind, seems to have received his stubbornness, his appreciation for letting things go unsaid, and his ability to often hide emotion. These are, of course, not negative traits and I don't mean to convey any of us in an unfavorable light- I'm just pointing out how wildly similar the three of us can be.
So it must be that my grandfather was similar to my dad and, therefore, similar to us. I don't know very much about him, to be honest. I know he was a career military man, a non-com, who fought in Korea and raised his family on or near Fort Dix for most of his life. He had four children, one of whom who died in childhood, my father in the middle with a sister on each side. As any proud Irishman he could drink well; he also smoked himself to death, succumbing to cancer at a comparably young age (mid-fifties). In those pictures which survived from his youth, he bears a striking resemblance to my father (although not to my brother and I- we both have a lot of our mom's side in our appearance, as well).
My dad usually gives mostly facts like that about his father, without a lot of explanation of really who he was, how he acted, or what he believed. He will often say that he would have loved my brother and I, and been proud of what we've already accomplished in our lives. I suppose most of the image I have of him as a person comes from what I know of my dad's life ... my dad, who worked two jobs to put himself through college and made himself into a very successful business manager for almost 30 years before his injury. The relationship my dad held with his family then (and holds now) also speaks to my grandfather, but I know only cursory details from that time period at best.
So the picture of my grandfather as I know him- hard working, probably not openly loving, driven, highly expectant of work in others, with a hesitance to convey emotion beyond anger or laughter, and a love of discipline.
Sounds familiar.
I bring this up because in a concert next week I ended up with the solo for "O Danny Boy," a wildly famous Irish tune that you'd know if you heard. It's been one of my favorite songs for years, and I'm very happy I get to finally perform it (on euphonium, no less). To prepare, I was practicing the solo over Spring Break when my mom knocked on the door. When I opened it, all she said was, "I just wanted to let you know- you sound good. Your dad especially likes it- he even made a comment about how this is one of his favorite songs. I think this was one of his dad's favorite songs, too ... you must be reminding him of your grandfather."
The rarity of this comment from my dad said a lot to me. He never comments of my playing unless it's a performance, after which he says, "Good job" or "Next time leave the trumpets at home." It gave me a good feeling to know that I was able to remind him of someone that obviously had such an effect on him ... much the same effect, I would believe, he's having on me and my brother now.
It's the little things in life that are important. Not big events or situations, but just bits of knowledge that leave a lasting impact and make you think. This Thursday I'll have that bit of extra knowledge when I stand up to play Danny Boy ... the knowledge that I'm not just playing one of my favorite songs. I'll be performing the favorite song of my dad, the man who has influenced me so much, and the favorite song of his dad, a man who inevitably and indirectly has done the same thing.
Here's to Martin Thomas Walsh ... I wish I could have met you.
I never knew my paternal grandfather ... he died several years before I was born. If generational history and patterns are to be believed, though, I imagine he must have been a lot like my dad. It's my opinion that my brother and I both inherited at least half of our personalities from our father. I received his near-irrational love of work, his love of achievement, his preference to often let his performance speak for him. My brother, to my mind, seems to have received his stubbornness, his appreciation for letting things go unsaid, and his ability to often hide emotion. These are, of course, not negative traits and I don't mean to convey any of us in an unfavorable light- I'm just pointing out how wildly similar the three of us can be.
So it must be that my grandfather was similar to my dad and, therefore, similar to us. I don't know very much about him, to be honest. I know he was a career military man, a non-com, who fought in Korea and raised his family on or near Fort Dix for most of his life. He had four children, one of whom who died in childhood, my father in the middle with a sister on each side. As any proud Irishman he could drink well; he also smoked himself to death, succumbing to cancer at a comparably young age (mid-fifties). In those pictures which survived from his youth, he bears a striking resemblance to my father (although not to my brother and I- we both have a lot of our mom's side in our appearance, as well).
My dad usually gives mostly facts like that about his father, without a lot of explanation of really who he was, how he acted, or what he believed. He will often say that he would have loved my brother and I, and been proud of what we've already accomplished in our lives. I suppose most of the image I have of him as a person comes from what I know of my dad's life ... my dad, who worked two jobs to put himself through college and made himself into a very successful business manager for almost 30 years before his injury. The relationship my dad held with his family then (and holds now) also speaks to my grandfather, but I know only cursory details from that time period at best.
So the picture of my grandfather as I know him- hard working, probably not openly loving, driven, highly expectant of work in others, with a hesitance to convey emotion beyond anger or laughter, and a love of discipline.
Sounds familiar.
I bring this up because in a concert next week I ended up with the solo for "O Danny Boy," a wildly famous Irish tune that you'd know if you heard. It's been one of my favorite songs for years, and I'm very happy I get to finally perform it (on euphonium, no less). To prepare, I was practicing the solo over Spring Break when my mom knocked on the door. When I opened it, all she said was, "I just wanted to let you know- you sound good. Your dad especially likes it- he even made a comment about how this is one of his favorite songs. I think this was one of his dad's favorite songs, too ... you must be reminding him of your grandfather."
The rarity of this comment from my dad said a lot to me. He never comments of my playing unless it's a performance, after which he says, "Good job" or "Next time leave the trumpets at home." It gave me a good feeling to know that I was able to remind him of someone that obviously had such an effect on him ... much the same effect, I would believe, he's having on me and my brother now.
It's the little things in life that are important. Not big events or situations, but just bits of knowledge that leave a lasting impact and make you think. This Thursday I'll have that bit of extra knowledge when I stand up to play Danny Boy ... the knowledge that I'm not just playing one of my favorite songs. I'll be performing the favorite song of my dad, the man who has influenced me so much, and the favorite song of his dad, a man who inevitably and indirectly has done the same thing.
Here's to Martin Thomas Walsh ... I wish I could have met you.
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