I enjoy puns almost as much as I savor the delicately seasoned, dehydrated meats of Robertsons Real Beef Jerky. I've guzzled pounds and pounds worth of packaged beef jerky over the years. Packed with protein, beef jerky is not only snackable but health efficient as well.
During each major moment in my life a bag of beef jerky is in a cabinet or opened on my lap. Almost every day after school my grandma would buy me a small package with a few pieces inside. This went on for years, because I loved it so much and my grandma is generally an awesome woman who buys me beef jerky, so of course I allowed it to go on I never thought of my world as food centric, but when essaying over beef jerky my days could be defined less by how excited I was when returning home after a hard day, but more on the mouth-pounding deliciousness of the jerky. Those strips of sodium packed man fuel marked the metastasis from the revolting part of my day, elementary school, to the delightful days of climbing trees and critiquing dinosaur films, home.
Later on my life I would share it with a girl. No one stays with their first love, but for me that first love was a turning point. A transition into the world of social embrace from my socially awkward stages of my teenage years.
Not only was beef jerky there with this girl, but during the break up, and onto the next phase of my life. It was there for my graduation, and my first day of college. I regret to say I haven't had a piece of beef jerky in over a year, but that will have to change.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Pimping Our Mouths
I took this topic too far. Far too far.
Gossip is the most sincere, withstanding, and purely golden of all conversation topics. Indeed, you can fall back to asking about the weather with the locals, but closer friends are thirstier for a deeper topic; they want something deliciously vicious to throb their tongues to. The weather is so effortless, but it’s even easier to mock are the people with flaws. Perhaps it’s the pastor that hits his kids, or your friend’s mom who is cheating with the pastor, or even the mom’s child who gave up Harvard to work at Cici’s Pizza and smoke the mighty herb. One of these people will be your topic of conversation someday. Don’t fret and find it easy to hate yourself. No, hating yourself is unhealthy, but hating others in secret is harmless. Gossip is healthy, in fact.
Outlets exist for everything. Violent video games are controversial, but for a fraction of people they can revise their fantasy of beating hobos to death and reiterate this into a video game or crocheting. Similarly, gossip is our filter for saying “you suck” to someone’s face.
When you’re close enough to someone, you start to understand why eccentric old people gossip about young’uns. We’re radically different, even from the flower children variety. They look at our Lindsay Lohan drug scandals or Lady Gaga’s and turn into a gossip fountain. And honestly, although we’ve accepted Lady Gaga into our mainstream hearts, we have plenty to tear apart.
That said some are easier to pick on than others. I think of myself as an open gentleman, accepting of the broadest of norms. Some of my best friends are gay, jobless, foreign, or even haters themselves. I love all of them, and would never gossip about someone because of their life ideology. Yet, when it directly affects their livelihood, or your own, one must step in and talk about them to everyone else.
My example for this essay is an ex of mine. It’s been a good four months, and I’ve moved on, but it’s amazing how she has become the prime target of everyone’s gossip since our demise. I, myself, have tried to take the high road and say little to infect the gossip. I failed. She’s too easy to laugh at.
Let’s start with the fact that she started gaining weight. This isn’t a bad thing, I would never ostracize one for gaining a few pounds, but she turned into a lazy sponge. I go to school full time and work part time here and there. She had a part time job, and 90% of the time she was lounging on the couch, complaining about how hard it was to sit all day and chat on facebook. I would end up doing most of the household cleaning, dishes, and picking up after her. Furthermore, she did not help with the rent. I understand that she had to pay for her car, but you must understand that $300 of her money were not in savings and unaccounted for.
I, being a man with testosterone producing testis, started pressuring her to get off her rump and work out, clean, and generally be a good roommate. She would have nothing of it. I kicked her out and she soon turned into an insane megaphone of a human. Rumors ignited shortly afterward. Suddenly I was a lazy bum who was afraid to graduate college, although in my defense I’m graduating on time, and her other claim is that I left her for a slut. In the alleged slut’s defense she had nothing to do with it and is one kind, sexy woman.
This ex went bonkers. I reached out to be her friend on more than one occasion since the breakup, and she kindly accepted it, before going deranged again and calling me names.
My friends have since given me plenty of details on her to devour since then. I’ll give them to you, to show how much I secretly enjoy to gossip: 1) She dyed her hair black, and it doesn’t flatter her weight gain. 2) She’s dated a large number of old men in an effort to trap a sugar daddy with babies. 3) She’s attempted to seduce my current girlfriend. 4) She wears one outfit that consists of denim on denim every day, and refuses to change underwear. 5) This, I learned myself, she doesn’t know how to spend money. I had a mailbox filled with letters and voicemails from loan sharks and banks trying to reach her.
With all this said, I don’t gossip often. I only use it as a route of conversational topic when two people are gleefully upset with a particular individual. I argue that it’s healthy. You shouldn’t keep things bottled up inside.
I can’t justify everything I say. I have flaws of my own that helped end the relationship. Mostly, these were due to my disinterest in continuing the thing. As I’ve said before, I have trouble finding my own flaws, and perhaps you can just assume that when I gossip I can be really mean. I promise I love you, world. Just don’t be a directly parasitic to my life.
Gossip is the most sincere, withstanding, and purely golden of all conversation topics. Indeed, you can fall back to asking about the weather with the locals, but closer friends are thirstier for a deeper topic; they want something deliciously vicious to throb their tongues to. The weather is so effortless, but it’s even easier to mock are the people with flaws. Perhaps it’s the pastor that hits his kids, or your friend’s mom who is cheating with the pastor, or even the mom’s child who gave up Harvard to work at Cici’s Pizza and smoke the mighty herb. One of these people will be your topic of conversation someday. Don’t fret and find it easy to hate yourself. No, hating yourself is unhealthy, but hating others in secret is harmless. Gossip is healthy, in fact.
Outlets exist for everything. Violent video games are controversial, but for a fraction of people they can revise their fantasy of beating hobos to death and reiterate this into a video game or crocheting. Similarly, gossip is our filter for saying “you suck” to someone’s face.
When you’re close enough to someone, you start to understand why eccentric old people gossip about young’uns. We’re radically different, even from the flower children variety. They look at our Lindsay Lohan drug scandals or Lady Gaga’s and turn into a gossip fountain. And honestly, although we’ve accepted Lady Gaga into our mainstream hearts, we have plenty to tear apart.
That said some are easier to pick on than others. I think of myself as an open gentleman, accepting of the broadest of norms. Some of my best friends are gay, jobless, foreign, or even haters themselves. I love all of them, and would never gossip about someone because of their life ideology. Yet, when it directly affects their livelihood, or your own, one must step in and talk about them to everyone else.
My example for this essay is an ex of mine. It’s been a good four months, and I’ve moved on, but it’s amazing how she has become the prime target of everyone’s gossip since our demise. I, myself, have tried to take the high road and say little to infect the gossip. I failed. She’s too easy to laugh at.
Let’s start with the fact that she started gaining weight. This isn’t a bad thing, I would never ostracize one for gaining a few pounds, but she turned into a lazy sponge. I go to school full time and work part time here and there. She had a part time job, and 90% of the time she was lounging on the couch, complaining about how hard it was to sit all day and chat on facebook. I would end up doing most of the household cleaning, dishes, and picking up after her. Furthermore, she did not help with the rent. I understand that she had to pay for her car, but you must understand that $300 of her money were not in savings and unaccounted for.
I, being a man with testosterone producing testis, started pressuring her to get off her rump and work out, clean, and generally be a good roommate. She would have nothing of it. I kicked her out and she soon turned into an insane megaphone of a human. Rumors ignited shortly afterward. Suddenly I was a lazy bum who was afraid to graduate college, although in my defense I’m graduating on time, and her other claim is that I left her for a slut. In the alleged slut’s defense she had nothing to do with it and is one kind, sexy woman.
This ex went bonkers. I reached out to be her friend on more than one occasion since the breakup, and she kindly accepted it, before going deranged again and calling me names.
My friends have since given me plenty of details on her to devour since then. I’ll give them to you, to show how much I secretly enjoy to gossip: 1) She dyed her hair black, and it doesn’t flatter her weight gain. 2) She’s dated a large number of old men in an effort to trap a sugar daddy with babies. 3) She’s attempted to seduce my current girlfriend. 4) She wears one outfit that consists of denim on denim every day, and refuses to change underwear. 5) This, I learned myself, she doesn’t know how to spend money. I had a mailbox filled with letters and voicemails from loan sharks and banks trying to reach her.
With all this said, I don’t gossip often. I only use it as a route of conversational topic when two people are gleefully upset with a particular individual. I argue that it’s healthy. You shouldn’t keep things bottled up inside.
I can’t justify everything I say. I have flaws of my own that helped end the relationship. Mostly, these were due to my disinterest in continuing the thing. As I’ve said before, I have trouble finding my own flaws, and perhaps you can just assume that when I gossip I can be really mean. I promise I love you, world. Just don’t be a directly parasitic to my life.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Cheek and Irony
It was hard for me to pick just one element that suits my essay writing. Cheek and irony fit the best, as I am more likely to poke fun at a particular person or thing.
However, roman numeral III somewhat fit me because I like to poke fun at myself sometimes as well. Yet, this wouldn't have worked as well because it's hard for me to specify my flaws. Number five would also apply to me fairly strongly. Any time you're making fun of someone else you draw a minimal amount of attention to yourself. Egocentricity is unavoidable.
Part of it is because it's hard for me to take things seriously. My most comfortable voice is dry and somewhat humerus rather than serious.
However, roman numeral III somewhat fit me because I like to poke fun at myself sometimes as well. Yet, this wouldn't have worked as well because it's hard for me to specify my flaws. Number five would also apply to me fairly strongly. Any time you're making fun of someone else you draw a minimal amount of attention to yourself. Egocentricity is unavoidable.
Part of it is because it's hard for me to take things seriously. My most comfortable voice is dry and somewhat humerus rather than serious.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Failure
Critically analyzing yourself is the first step to really knowing who you are. The biggest problem that came up for me thinking of my flaws is that I honestly can't think of many. Reading another post, it looks like this is a common occurring.
Maybe that is my biggest flaw. I'm unable to see what is wrong with myself. For example, when someone asks me what I dislike about my writing I can't come up with an answer. I know there are problems, because there have to be. No amount of drafting can make a work perfect. If I'm asked what I dislike about myself, I still can't come up with anything. When I wake up I can have bad breath and my hair doesn't obey, but are those fair flaws?
In the French film Amélie, a failed writer says "Failure teaches us that life is but a draft, a long rehearsal for a show that will never play." Recognizing what's wrong with other people is important too, but learning from your own mistakes is the most important.
To learn from my first mistake of being unable to think of any flaws about myself, I'm going to find them out for myself. In everyday conversation, how people react, how I can improve what I'm already doing, are all ways to start.
Maybe that is my biggest flaw. I'm unable to see what is wrong with myself. For example, when someone asks me what I dislike about my writing I can't come up with an answer. I know there are problems, because there have to be. No amount of drafting can make a work perfect. If I'm asked what I dislike about myself, I still can't come up with anything. When I wake up I can have bad breath and my hair doesn't obey, but are those fair flaws?
In the French film Amélie, a failed writer says "Failure teaches us that life is but a draft, a long rehearsal for a show that will never play." Recognizing what's wrong with other people is important too, but learning from your own mistakes is the most important.
To learn from my first mistake of being unable to think of any flaws about myself, I'm going to find them out for myself. In everyday conversation, how people react, how I can improve what I'm already doing, are all ways to start.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Photos
For a large part of my life I didn't consider myself to be a "photogenic" person. Then again, I had to grow into myself a lot, so maybe I wasn't an "eyeogenic" teenager either.
Thankfully, I've since grown into myself. Where I once had to edit my high school Myspace poses to be angled in such a way or properly exposed to the point where I looked a certain way, I'm presently content with my pictures. As a male, I should remain attractive well into my thirties before my hair starts thinning.
I would argue that becoming comfortable with self-portraits is a gateway to self-confidence. Once you're comfortable enough to take a picture of yourself and be happy with it, you can start to feel better about other aspects of your appearance. It certainly worked for me.
Don't forget that you can always have really terrible pictures of yourself that get tagged on facebook somewhere. Usually your mouth is opened and something is in it, or you just woke up and there's a huge crease on your face. The flash doesn't discriminate.
Furthermore, having self-confidence is never a guaranteed cure for ugliness. It just makes you more attractive. In fact, sometimes over-confidence can make you an overly egotistical bastard, but nevertheless I encourage everyone to take more pictures and strive for self-appreciation.
Thankfully, I've since grown into myself. Where I once had to edit my high school Myspace poses to be angled in such a way or properly exposed to the point where I looked a certain way, I'm presently content with my pictures. As a male, I should remain attractive well into my thirties before my hair starts thinning.
I would argue that becoming comfortable with self-portraits is a gateway to self-confidence. Once you're comfortable enough to take a picture of yourself and be happy with it, you can start to feel better about other aspects of your appearance. It certainly worked for me.
Don't forget that you can always have really terrible pictures of yourself that get tagged on facebook somewhere. Usually your mouth is opened and something is in it, or you just woke up and there's a huge crease on your face. The flash doesn't discriminate.
Furthermore, having self-confidence is never a guaranteed cure for ugliness. It just makes you more attractive. In fact, sometimes over-confidence can make you an overly egotistical bastard, but nevertheless I encourage everyone to take more pictures and strive for self-appreciation.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
New Experiences
I had a new experience that is as recent as the past hour that I may as well write about. It will be conveniently cheesy and short.
I have a personal policy of avoiding The Wal (mart) near periods of drab weather. Unfortunately, today my pantry contained no food and I had no choice. The roads as of an hour ago were soggy, not icy, and still quite drivable in my car. I made the three mile trek to Wal-Mart and expectedly parked far, far from the entrance.
My list was ready. The girlfriend read off the order in which we should grab items as I darted the cart in and out of the old folks who were pausing for 30 second to two minute intervals to find the right product. I paused myself to talk to a friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Just when I thought our conversation had been hastily rushed through, I ran into another friend to repeat the process.
Finally, I checked out and rushed to my car. Snow blew into my nose. I ignored it, like the mighty emperor penguin I am, and emptied my basket into the trunk of my car. The trip home was a blur. The blur was mostly due to the snow and fog that had accumulated to my windshield, which made driving in Ada a party. A tense six minute drive later I was in front of my apartment, flipping my key to the left and celebrating the welcome of food.
I have a personal policy of avoiding The Wal (mart) near periods of drab weather. Unfortunately, today my pantry contained no food and I had no choice. The roads as of an hour ago were soggy, not icy, and still quite drivable in my car. I made the three mile trek to Wal-Mart and expectedly parked far, far from the entrance.
My list was ready. The girlfriend read off the order in which we should grab items as I darted the cart in and out of the old folks who were pausing for 30 second to two minute intervals to find the right product. I paused myself to talk to a friend I hadn't seen in a long time. Just when I thought our conversation had been hastily rushed through, I ran into another friend to repeat the process.
Finally, I checked out and rushed to my car. Snow blew into my nose. I ignored it, like the mighty emperor penguin I am, and emptied my basket into the trunk of my car. The trip home was a blur. The blur was mostly due to the snow and fog that had accumulated to my windshield, which made driving in Ada a party. A tense six minute drive later I was in front of my apartment, flipping my key to the left and celebrating the welcome of food.
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