We are doomed.

Here's proof.



Crying. Because of a reality show.

To see someone so emotionally invested in a storyline, in a narrative arc, is something I'd trade my left pinkie toe for as a writer (assuming the reaction is due to my work). I'll go so far as to admit that sure, American Idol offers a pseudo-storyline. We* love to rise up as a nation and jeer the delusional and talentless during the initial rounds of auditions--which, by the way, introduced the world to William Hung; a person who is apparently famous despite a distinct lack of talent. You know, like Paris Hilton (too easy). We also love to clear our schedules so we can vote in real time for who stays and who gets the boot.

I get the psychology. It's the same (dis)associative qualities you'd see in a die-hard sports fan, someone who wins when their team wins and loses when they lose. I like to think I can hold a tune once in a while but can also recognize how out of my league I'd be in that crowd. I hate that this video doesn't feel like an atypical response to something that, at base, doesn't amount to much in the grand scheme. Sure, some of the contestants will get the chance at a career and some suits in the music industry will pad their pockets a bit more, but who really gives a shit? Don't tell me; I think I already have a good idea what the answer is.

Call me curmudgeonly (don't call me Shirley), but I'd much rather spend my time watching a movie or series with heartfelt writing and stellar acting. Even if there are elements bordering on outrageous, I want my disbelief to suspend itself without knowledge or effort by me. The transition should be natural.

Based on the very few times I've seen American Idol, not much of it feels natural to me. Maybe that's my problem.

*If you disagree with my view of American Idol, then the "we" means "you." If you agree, then it means "they."

EDIT: The owner of the original video, unsurprisingly, took it down and broke my link. Rather than fire off another rant about general lack of critical analysis, I'll just say that once a video is public, there's a very good chance it will always be public, because someone else has posted it for everyone to see. Welcome to the Internets, noobs.

I like white noise, but this is too much.

It's Wednesday morning, quarter to two (I don't care what time it says I posted this; it's wrong), and I feel like I need to take a walk. The temperature has gone up these past few days, I'm waiting for my next round of summer classes to kick in, and it just feels like time is standing still. It's driving me crazy.

I think I mentioned earlier that I was going to try fasting, and so it's quite possible this scattered mindset is due to me actually giving it a shot these past couple days. I figured this downtime would be the most trying, because really, I hate to be bored, and I also love to eat. Surprisingly, I've done a little writing, a lot of reading, and hardly any eating--we're talking a couple veggies, a bit of popcorn, and a cup of rice with a can of tuna in about 2.5 days (lots of water and a daily multivitamin), and I can already feel a difference in how my body's responding to, well, everything.

This feeling is what I was looking for. There was a stretch of time back in my late teens when I had to choose between paying the rent or buying groceries. Guess which one took priority. Thanks to my two years of working at McDonald's in high school, though, I was able to work some of my old connections and score a sympathy meal once in a while from the "cool" managers. Still, after graduating at 185lbs. (I'm about 6'2"), I was flirting with 170lbs. at one point. I ate a lot of popcorn, cheap yet filling, and I recall one meal consisting of a coffee cup filled with heated spaghetti sauce with a slice of melted cheese on top--no meat.

Hopefully I won't be in a situation like the one I just described anytime soon; like I mentioned, I have some classes coming up in about a week, so there's some income on the horizon. My main motivation is to revisit these sensations as a way to maybe reawaken some old feelings as well as research for my writing. In fact, this goes to show how scattered my thoughts are in this state; I was going to write a bit here about the writing and about ideas I've got cooking (oh, a punned food reference) in my head. Oh well, I've already written enough for now. I think it may be time for that walk and some fresh air.

Not gonna lie; I'll probably go down the street and pick up a late-night Coke and a candy bar, but splurging a little now will help in the long haul.

A Smorgasbord of WTF

It's that time again; feast your eyes upon the top ten Google searches which landed people here. I'm fairly certain that exactly none of the people who entered these phrases in the text field were looking for me--not even the poor sap who entered in my friend Ryan's name.



Seriously, cop mustache? What is wrong with you people?

I'm a glutton for gluten.

Tomorrow is our last day of finals, and student concerns/requests are still coming via email. One particular brand of email, I'll admit, is more entertaining than the rest. Here's the basic template:

"OMG, I'm so so sorry I've missed the last few classes, but I've had >insert reference to a vague, yet earth-shattering, life-destroying trauma--most often cited as "personal problems"< at home that I just had to deal with! What did we do for class? Please call me. My number is >digits I don't pay attention to<."

Yes, this is the condensed mad-lib formula from quite a few of the emails this past semester. Honestly, I'm somewhat of a softy when it comes to a student making the effort to let me know they won't be in class, but you'll notice the above example was in the past tense, which usually indicates this effort falls into the "too little, too late" category. Still, I offer them a chance and will typically send a reply reminding them when and where my office hours are, followed closely with an explicit invitation to come see me then. Do they take me up on it? Let's just say that I haven't seen a taker yet, but I wish they'd figure out that it's the best way to work it out; at least it is with me.

I think it's the last bit that kills me. The phone in my office is effectively cosmetic (I mention this on day one), and there's a reason I don't list my personal number on the syllabus, so it stands to reason that I'm not going to call someone who already displays a strong tendency to procrastinate. Receiving calls at any time of the day or night by a panic-stricken student is not something I'm eager to experience. No thank you.

Most of my socks are of an inferior quality.

I graduated. I graduated and got my foot in the door for some teaching experience, which is great, because now I've got a lead on something that could turn into the job I retire from. Until then, I'm existing, and by existing, I mean getting by with rent and bills on adjunct pay--good for a while, but not the best situation for saving or having any sort of life. Oh wait, I didn't really have a life anyway. That's a relief.

Anyway, I had one of those moments today where something went my way in a big way. I had student health insurance through the health center on campus, and once I graduated and tried to cancel the policy, I was told my transcripts would be sent on to the billing office and to just sit back, ignore the bills, and let the paperwork run its course. Since then, I've been getting statements with a steadily increasing sum printed in the "amount due" box, and the most recent have included friendly notes threatening me with all sorts of spooky credit mojo that would haunt me. They apparently have no idea that I've already been haunted, and the first time is the scariest. Not so much anymore. I finally got tired of it and left a message telling them my name and a reminder that I graduated way back in December, and I seem to recall saying, "Fix this, please," before hanging up.

I received what looked like another bill today, but the envelope felt a bit thin. There was only one sheet showing a lump sum credit and a lovely "$0.00" in the amount due box. Maybe it was only a drop in the bucket, but every little bit helps. And it felt like I'd won the lottery.