I have recently, within the last three months, completed reading the first two books of a trilogy by an author who, in my opinion, has put a rather vocal and realistic voice to a type of person who is normally hidden away in the closets of embarrassed family members. It’s sad how people view others in this world, as they instantly lock in a particular carbon copy idea of someone based on medical or psychological diagnosis and use this as their mental image of that person. I myself have been labeled and targeted due to an uncontrollable psychological disorder, and it is frustrating, to say the least. Author Dan Wells does a phenomenal job describing the thoughts and reasons behind one such disorder, mixing thrilling fiction with a young man suffering internally with being a sociopath.
In the first of the trilogy, the main character, John Wayne Cleaver, is introduced to the world. He lives with his mother in the home above their family owned morgue. John, a boy who struggles with his mental need to hurt people, burn things, kill animals, and obsess about torturing others, thoroughly enjoys working in the morgue. His mother and her sister, the two family members who work at and run the morgue in a small town in the United States, do their best when John tries to work in the morgue with them. He usually manages to sneak in a take over one task or the other, knowing full well that his caregivers are far too busy to notice him working on a body, let alone stop him, as they never turn down the chance to finish preparing a body early. Although his mother has her own reservations about letting John work on bodies with her, she hopes that giving him an avenue to satiate his urges will divert any other trouble. Being obsessed with serial killers and using references tot hem in every school assignment given to him just won’t cut it any longer, and his teachers and classmates are, for the lack of a better word, frightened of him.
At the book progresses after the opening introduction chapters, John struggles with following his “rules,” a regimen he takes very seriously and follows regularly and with as much stringent passion. His rules don’t allow him to look at people for extended periods of time, as he is fearful that he will stalk them. His rules prevent him from saying or thinking bad things about another person. If he does think a bad thought about a person, he is forced, per his own punishment rule, to verbally compliment them. The list of rules is a failsafe to his natural need to want to hurt others.
John’s therapist agrees that he is a sociopath, and regularly discusses why it is that John has become a sociopath. He even allows the boy to read his own notes during their sessions, which provides a two-way road of communication and trust.
John enjoys helping his elderly neighbors with yard work, though his joy is not in helping others. He spends hours raking the leaves because he knows that, at the end of the day, the elderly man will allow him to start a raging fire to burn away the gathered leaves. The fire gives an outlet to the sociopath main character. But all good things must come to an end.
Once bodies begin turning up in town, accompanied by an unidentifiable black sludge, John is quick to find the killer, but only to learn about how the murders were committed and why the killer chose to kill. After some sly stalking and quick thinking, John eventually finds out who the killer is, and does what any good natured sociopath would do: he stalks the murderer and leaves taunting notes for him.
I will refrain from writing more about the plot. If this book sounds interesting, you can pick a copy up at your favorite book store. It’s well worth the money.
I liked this book tremendously. I liked the sequel, Mr. Monster, for many of the same reasons that I liked the first. It was full of unexpected turns, humorous at certain points (a teenaged boy admitting that he stalked a girl for an extended period of time without realizing it is pretty funny), but most of all, it delves into the realms of troubled minds.
The author describes the disease, and the thoughts given to the main character are real and what one would expect from a sociopath. Normally, most people would be weary of a troubled young man like this. Having him locked in text is safe enough that people can have access to something uncommon and be able to step away from it if needed.
As far as psychological disorders go, there are plenty of them to go around. I have first hand knowledge of one such disorder that is most commonly known as OCD, or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I perform rituals of everyday actions until they feel “correct” in my head because I think that something bad will happen otherwise. I constantly have scary and sick thoughts about all sorts of things. For instance, when I lock a door, I don’t just insert the key and turn it to the locked position. I have to shut the door in a certain way, insert the key just right, turn it until the lock has been set, turn the key back and not pass a vertical position, and then shake the door handle for a period of time (usually ranging from five seconds to two minutes). I do this because if I don't do it correctly, I feel like someone might break into my home, or that someone I love will be injured or worse. If anything in this carefully done set of actions is done wrong, I start over, even if that means someone is watching me and laughing or if it means that I am late for something.
I’ve spent a full hour setting an alarm clock, turning it on and off over and over, setting and resetting the time, and setting it down and picking it up until it touched the desk top just right. I’ve spent minutes changing television channels with the remote, despite the fact that it should have taken less than thirty seconds. I’ve turned sink faucets off and on so many times and so forcefully that I’ve broken the handle. I’ve broken heavy locking doorknobs because I’ve shaken them so many times.
How do I cope with my obsessions if I absolutely can't perform the ritual, or if there is no physical ritual to repeat? Compulsions! I blink forcefully until it feels “correct.” A lot. I sniff loudly and repeatedly until it feels “correct,” even though I look like a complete idiot when I do it (About a week ago I did it in front of the mirror, just to see what it looks like. All I can say is WOW, what a moron). I basically blink and sniff nonstop throughout my day, which is, to say the very least, frustrating. People look at me like I’m a complete freak, or they laugh at me, or they make comments when I walk by.
So, the morale of this entire blog comes down to a few key points:
1. Don’t judge people for being weird. There’s good people behind those odd thoughts and strange facial ticks.
2. Read the two above mentioned novels, and, if you like them, keep an eye out for the last book in the trilogy.
3. If you suffer from OCD like me, and cannot set an alarm clock or turn the volume up or down on your television because you feel the need to jump the volume up and down for a full minute before setting it to what feels correct, just do what I do: HAVE YOUR WIFE DO ALL OF THESE THINGS FOR YOU, AND THANK HER FOR BEING A ROCK IN YOUR OTHERWISE SNIFFING AND BLINKING WORLD OF ODDITIES!
Friday, March 25, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
My friends, I have scared off a fellow author with my frist attempt at networking!
It has been quite a while since I’ve posted my last blog. I have only posted a handful, and already I am slacking off. Shame on me. My bad, devoted readers. All three of you should be very, very angry, as I am a procrastinating man with narcissistic tendencies.
I’ve been really busy with work. It really wears me out, and I usually spend my free time reading, writing my novel (more on that in just a few moments), or watching television with my wife, relaxing my free hours away. The baby boy will be here in just a few months, so I’m trying to enjoy my last scraps of freedom now, as my life will belong to him for the next eighteen years. I think that it’s a swell way to spend a long period of time!
Read, delete, verb replacement, reread, swap sentences, swap paragraph, swap chapter, delete entire chapter, start over…REPEAT!
So, as some of you may know, I’ve finished my novel, and by finished, I mean that I have written a beginning, middle, and an end. I am now editing, which is tedious and bland. The writing process is beyond difficult. It’s exhausting work, and I find that the more I read through the novel, the more I hate certain parts. I then change parts of it, only to realize that I liked the first version better. Such is the life of an unknown aspiring novelist.
Living in such a small and sparsely populated town does not allow me many opportunities to meet other authors. I’d really like to bounce some ideas off of other writers, let them read some sample chapters that I have written, or just talk about the whole process of getting published. I know that I have little chance of meeting a best selling author here in Plainfield. That’s just a bold truth that I have come to accept.
I am aware of one author who lives just one town over from me who has successfully written a novel, self-published it, and signed a contract for a series with a publishing company. I emailed him and asked some basic and cliché questions about the writing process. This man was kind enough to email me back, citing some examples of what I can read to learn more about publishing, networking, and other related topics. He ended the email by asking me what I am writing currently. He seemed genuinely curious about the genre of my book and what it was about.
Let me state now that this man is a Christian writer, and very true and devoted to his faith. I give anyone who is devoted to their religion in such a large way a ton of credit for being able to believe in something so much. It’s rare, and, in a way, kind of nice to know that there are still people out there in the world who can put aside the troubles of the world and lay their own soul on the hands of a deity.
So, I email him again and give him a very basic outline of my novel. I explained the beginning of the novel, which is overly graphic, gross, depressing, and sad. I then explain that a major organization of fanatics plays a main role in the book, and I hint at immortal beings, fear by faithful members of the religious group, and get detailed about a suicide scene. I finished the email, spell-checked it, and hit send.
It’s been almost three months, and he has not even responded. I’d chalk it up to him being busy, but he emailed me back the first time within an hour. I think I scared him off with my explanation. It’s a good thing that I didn’t mention that the villain in the book is the leader of the organization, which is actually a religion.
So, as much as I respect those who are religious and faithful, I despise those who are hypocrites. I believe in my book, and I think that, even though the main villain and villains in the book are from a certain religion, I shouldn’t be frowned upon by those from all religions. The religion I write about is not real at all, and they have never existed. I was, more or less, describing how mass hysteria of a blind and sheltered people (such as the accusing townsfolk from Salem, MA during the witch trials) can cause death and destruction for those who are innocent and not part of the main circle of citizens.
This blog might sound like a bunch of complaints, but you must remember, I am NARCISSISTIC, and the world revolves around my happiness.
But in all honesty, don’t judge a book by it’s cover, pun INTENDED. I’m not a bad person because I write about dark and bad things. I write from experience a lot, but I also write from the view point of those who have experienced things that I have not, and in a way, I am telling their story. Everyone has a story to tell, so listen to what others have to say. Then, when they finish and you are no longer in their presence, judge them silently, or with a trusted friend. Don’t forget to laugh at them when they pass by you in the future, as it only hurts properly when you really twist that knife. I need a frickin' BANDAID for the wound in my back!
IF THIS BLOG HAS BORED YOU, I APOLOGIZE. PLEASE ENJOY THE FOLLOWING PHOTO AS A CONSOLATION PRIZE:
I’ve been really busy with work. It really wears me out, and I usually spend my free time reading, writing my novel (more on that in just a few moments), or watching television with my wife, relaxing my free hours away. The baby boy will be here in just a few months, so I’m trying to enjoy my last scraps of freedom now, as my life will belong to him for the next eighteen years. I think that it’s a swell way to spend a long period of time!
Read, delete, verb replacement, reread, swap sentences, swap paragraph, swap chapter, delete entire chapter, start over…REPEAT!
So, as some of you may know, I’ve finished my novel, and by finished, I mean that I have written a beginning, middle, and an end. I am now editing, which is tedious and bland. The writing process is beyond difficult. It’s exhausting work, and I find that the more I read through the novel, the more I hate certain parts. I then change parts of it, only to realize that I liked the first version better. Such is the life of an unknown aspiring novelist.
Living in such a small and sparsely populated town does not allow me many opportunities to meet other authors. I’d really like to bounce some ideas off of other writers, let them read some sample chapters that I have written, or just talk about the whole process of getting published. I know that I have little chance of meeting a best selling author here in Plainfield. That’s just a bold truth that I have come to accept.
I am aware of one author who lives just one town over from me who has successfully written a novel, self-published it, and signed a contract for a series with a publishing company. I emailed him and asked some basic and cliché questions about the writing process. This man was kind enough to email me back, citing some examples of what I can read to learn more about publishing, networking, and other related topics. He ended the email by asking me what I am writing currently. He seemed genuinely curious about the genre of my book and what it was about.
Let me state now that this man is a Christian writer, and very true and devoted to his faith. I give anyone who is devoted to their religion in such a large way a ton of credit for being able to believe in something so much. It’s rare, and, in a way, kind of nice to know that there are still people out there in the world who can put aside the troubles of the world and lay their own soul on the hands of a deity.
So, I email him again and give him a very basic outline of my novel. I explained the beginning of the novel, which is overly graphic, gross, depressing, and sad. I then explain that a major organization of fanatics plays a main role in the book, and I hint at immortal beings, fear by faithful members of the religious group, and get detailed about a suicide scene. I finished the email, spell-checked it, and hit send.
It’s been almost three months, and he has not even responded. I’d chalk it up to him being busy, but he emailed me back the first time within an hour. I think I scared him off with my explanation. It’s a good thing that I didn’t mention that the villain in the book is the leader of the organization, which is actually a religion.
So, as much as I respect those who are religious and faithful, I despise those who are hypocrites. I believe in my book, and I think that, even though the main villain and villains in the book are from a certain religion, I shouldn’t be frowned upon by those from all religions. The religion I write about is not real at all, and they have never existed. I was, more or less, describing how mass hysteria of a blind and sheltered people (such as the accusing townsfolk from Salem, MA during the witch trials) can cause death and destruction for those who are innocent and not part of the main circle of citizens.
This blog might sound like a bunch of complaints, but you must remember, I am NARCISSISTIC, and the world revolves around my happiness.
But in all honesty, don’t judge a book by it’s cover, pun INTENDED. I’m not a bad person because I write about dark and bad things. I write from experience a lot, but I also write from the view point of those who have experienced things that I have not, and in a way, I am telling their story. Everyone has a story to tell, so listen to what others have to say. Then, when they finish and you are no longer in their presence, judge them silently, or with a trusted friend. Don’t forget to laugh at them when they pass by you in the future, as it only hurts properly when you really twist that knife. I need a frickin' BANDAID for the wound in my back!
IF THIS BLOG HAS BORED YOU, I APOLOGIZE. PLEASE ENJOY THE FOLLOWING PHOTO AS A CONSOLATION PRIZE:
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Impressionable Viewers and Irresponsible Television Programming
THIS IS NOT AIMED AT ANY PERSON IN PARTICULAR. IT IS NOT MEANT TO BELITTLE ANYONE, ONLY TO RANT ON THE IGNORANCE OF CERTAIN SHOWS AND HOW IRRESPONSIBLE THEY ARE.
The youth of our world are very impressionable, to say the least. This seems to be one of the main constants throughout all of time, in regards to adolescents. Show them the newest “cool” rapper, and they go out and buy the disc that very day. Plaster photos of the hottest new actor on the covers of their magazines, and they create a fan page dedicated to that actor, with the claim that “I knew about him way before any of you.” It’s actually sad how susceptible to pressure they are.
MTV currently has a show on regularly called “Sixteen and Pregnant,” which chronicles the life of a pregnant teenager. They follow the teenager to doctors appointments, to school, show them going through labor, and, inevitably, show them fighting with the father of their child. It’s very “cookie-cutter” each week in that the same things take place, just with a different teenager each time.
There is also a show, which is a follow-up to “Sixteen and Pregnant,” called “Teen Mom,” which, again, chronicles the day-to-day activities of teenage mothers. The cameras follow the girls to work, to daycare to pick up their children, and, of course, show them fighting with their child’s father.
The sad part is that MTV is showing young kids that, if they were to get pregnant, there is a chance that they will get to be on television. It’s always the same type of girl on the show. Ignorant, usually very dense, and uninformed about many things, including child care and birth control. I don’t mean to be so direct or mean toward these girls, but if anyone has watched either of these shows, they know exactly what I mean.
A lot of the girls thought that “pulling out” was an acceptable form of birth control. One girl actually blamed her high school and health class for her pregnancy, because the teacher didn’t tell her, specifically, that the “pulling out” method might lead to pregnancy. Some of them take responsibly for their pregnancy, but a lot of the girls on either show blame everyone except for themselves.
Another girl, who was on both shows, beats on her baby’s father on a regular basis, and thinks that it is fine to do so in front of their toddler daughter. She then cries when he takes the baby away, and threatens to call the police on him. She is now facing charges for domestic abuse, and says that she only beats on him because she is depressed. Again, blaming everyone and everything except for herself.
The bottom line is that ignorant hicks such as the ones shown on these shows should not be shown such programming, because all they want is a story to tell and a quick pay day. Give them a television appearance and a small stack of cash, and they will be squeezing out babies left and right, as often as possible.
Dr. Drew Pinsky is a part of these shows, and he hosts the reunion episodes at the end of each season. Normally, he hosts quality shows that have a plethora of health tips and precautionary information. I’m sure that there are countless people who can credit their sobriety, abstinence, and lack of sexually transmitted diseases to him and his television and radio shows. In the beginning, this show was probably aimed at being a deterrent for teens, frightening them enough so that they would remain abstinent, or, at the very least, use proper birth control methods, such as condoms, birth control pills, intrauterine devices (IUD’s), etc. But now, the whole message has changed, and I think that it’s time to pull the plug on shows such as these.
Granted, there are a lot of followers to these shows, and thousands of people will be angry if it ends now. But it’s lowering IQ’s everywhere, and giving stupid people stupid ideas, furthering their stupidity.
Maybe I’m being a tad on the harsh side, but without someone giving a completely callous and impartial opinion on the matter, people will fall into the same old television viewer cycle of “view, absorb, and repeat.” It’s not just teenagers who are impressionable, and many adults lack the skills to be able to transition into “responsible adult” from “impressionable teenager“.
This show only ever shows young girls who get pregnant by their boyfriend, or the boy who was their boyfriend at the time of said conception. The show progresses with the couple together, and ends with a newborn child and either a teenage couple who are still together, or teenage couple who have split up. They never show the pregnancy of a girl who got too drunk to remember who the father of her baby is. They never show a girl who has had multiple partners in a short period of time and cannot figure out which boy is the father of the child.
If MTV, or any television giant, wants to produce a quality show that will inform and engage it’s audience, while also sending out a strong message, then maybe they should go back to the “scared straight” method.
Have differing viewpoints on every episode, airing half of the show about a girl or boy who is abstinent and dedicated to staying pure and child-free until they get married. Then contrast that with a girl or boy who are going to be a new parent at the age of sixteen, and show the real struggles of their life, and not just boring and pointless relationship drama.
It all comes down to responsibility. I can’t say that I am a role model to anyone in terms of sexual behavior. I can’t say to anyone that I remained abstinent and pure until I was married. But I did take the proper precautions to avoid being a father before I was ready. Granted, things go wrong sometimes and teenagers become pregnant. I’m not calling these girls bad people, and they are by no means stupid, dumb, irresponsible, or undeserving of compassion. “Sh*t happens,” as the age-old saying goes.
Maybe if more people were truthful with their friends and kids then we wouldn’t have to dedicate books, television shows, and movies to topics such as teenage pregnancy, teenage drug use, or teenage violence.
The youth of our world are very impressionable, to say the least. This seems to be one of the main constants throughout all of time, in regards to adolescents. Show them the newest “cool” rapper, and they go out and buy the disc that very day. Plaster photos of the hottest new actor on the covers of their magazines, and they create a fan page dedicated to that actor, with the claim that “I knew about him way before any of you.” It’s actually sad how susceptible to pressure they are.
MTV currently has a show on regularly called “Sixteen and Pregnant,” which chronicles the life of a pregnant teenager. They follow the teenager to doctors appointments, to school, show them going through labor, and, inevitably, show them fighting with the father of their child. It’s very “cookie-cutter” each week in that the same things take place, just with a different teenager each time.
There is also a show, which is a follow-up to “Sixteen and Pregnant,” called “Teen Mom,” which, again, chronicles the day-to-day activities of teenage mothers. The cameras follow the girls to work, to daycare to pick up their children, and, of course, show them fighting with their child’s father.
The sad part is that MTV is showing young kids that, if they were to get pregnant, there is a chance that they will get to be on television. It’s always the same type of girl on the show. Ignorant, usually very dense, and uninformed about many things, including child care and birth control. I don’t mean to be so direct or mean toward these girls, but if anyone has watched either of these shows, they know exactly what I mean.
A lot of the girls thought that “pulling out” was an acceptable form of birth control. One girl actually blamed her high school and health class for her pregnancy, because the teacher didn’t tell her, specifically, that the “pulling out” method might lead to pregnancy. Some of them take responsibly for their pregnancy, but a lot of the girls on either show blame everyone except for themselves.
Another girl, who was on both shows, beats on her baby’s father on a regular basis, and thinks that it is fine to do so in front of their toddler daughter. She then cries when he takes the baby away, and threatens to call the police on him. She is now facing charges for domestic abuse, and says that she only beats on him because she is depressed. Again, blaming everyone and everything except for herself.
The bottom line is that ignorant hicks such as the ones shown on these shows should not be shown such programming, because all they want is a story to tell and a quick pay day. Give them a television appearance and a small stack of cash, and they will be squeezing out babies left and right, as often as possible.
Dr. Drew Pinsky is a part of these shows, and he hosts the reunion episodes at the end of each season. Normally, he hosts quality shows that have a plethora of health tips and precautionary information. I’m sure that there are countless people who can credit their sobriety, abstinence, and lack of sexually transmitted diseases to him and his television and radio shows. In the beginning, this show was probably aimed at being a deterrent for teens, frightening them enough so that they would remain abstinent, or, at the very least, use proper birth control methods, such as condoms, birth control pills, intrauterine devices (IUD’s), etc. But now, the whole message has changed, and I think that it’s time to pull the plug on shows such as these.
Granted, there are a lot of followers to these shows, and thousands of people will be angry if it ends now. But it’s lowering IQ’s everywhere, and giving stupid people stupid ideas, furthering their stupidity.
Maybe I’m being a tad on the harsh side, but without someone giving a completely callous and impartial opinion on the matter, people will fall into the same old television viewer cycle of “view, absorb, and repeat.” It’s not just teenagers who are impressionable, and many adults lack the skills to be able to transition into “responsible adult” from “impressionable teenager“.
This show only ever shows young girls who get pregnant by their boyfriend, or the boy who was their boyfriend at the time of said conception. The show progresses with the couple together, and ends with a newborn child and either a teenage couple who are still together, or teenage couple who have split up. They never show the pregnancy of a girl who got too drunk to remember who the father of her baby is. They never show a girl who has had multiple partners in a short period of time and cannot figure out which boy is the father of the child.
If MTV, or any television giant, wants to produce a quality show that will inform and engage it’s audience, while also sending out a strong message, then maybe they should go back to the “scared straight” method.
Have differing viewpoints on every episode, airing half of the show about a girl or boy who is abstinent and dedicated to staying pure and child-free until they get married. Then contrast that with a girl or boy who are going to be a new parent at the age of sixteen, and show the real struggles of their life, and not just boring and pointless relationship drama.
It all comes down to responsibility. I can’t say that I am a role model to anyone in terms of sexual behavior. I can’t say to anyone that I remained abstinent and pure until I was married. But I did take the proper precautions to avoid being a father before I was ready. Granted, things go wrong sometimes and teenagers become pregnant. I’m not calling these girls bad people, and they are by no means stupid, dumb, irresponsible, or undeserving of compassion. “Sh*t happens,” as the age-old saying goes.
Maybe if more people were truthful with their friends and kids then we wouldn’t have to dedicate books, television shows, and movies to topics such as teenage pregnancy, teenage drug use, or teenage violence.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Costanza and Turtle: A Truly Beautiful Love Story.
When I was in college several years ago, I took a writing/current events class to fulfill a requirement for my major. At the time, I had no interest in writing, so I spent the majority of class time talking with my cousin Turtle, drawing stupid things on my notebook, or staring aimlessly into space. Sometimes I engaged in all three at the same time. I have a high IQ, and I am able to engage in highly difficult and impressive stunts.
This class was exceedingly boring, to say the least. Usually, the students of the class would painstakingly sit in the uncomfortable desks and listen to the screech of this Red Rocket of a woman, but occasionally, things would perk up enough to catch my attention and provide a laugh or two for the class.
On the first day of class, when the professor walked into the room, I was floored by what I saw. I originally thought that I was in an episode of Seinfeld, but after checking my surroundings, I realized that I was still in a dull colored room in a portable building connected to the side of the library.
This professor had short and curly reddish hair, was dumpy and squat, and her voice squealed with the pig-like charm of Mrs. Costanza. At first it was funny, and Turtle and I spent a few minutes giggling like small girls. Then she started to repeat the same phrases, such as “It’s not fair!“ and “It’s such a heart stopper!” Each time she said this, we snickered at her foolish comments.
I thought that this class would be a good time and a fine addition to my schedule, as it was easy, but not too easy, and boring, but not so much that I fell asleep. My hopes were soon drowned out by the dreadful stories this woman would reference. She seemed to know as much about writing as I do about heart surgery. Faded paint has more going for it than this class did.
I spent a lot of time doodling on my notebook, as did Cousin Turtle. One day during class, while I was completing an intricate work of art consisting of the four colors of my Four Color Pen, Costanza made mention of the Texas mother who drown her children in the bathtub. This story was all over the news for months, and it was sad, to say the least. She drown her kids! What is sadder and less deserving of a joke?
She began to describe the killer mother’s traits and explained why she was sick, then mentioned that she home schooled her children for their entire lives.
Cousin Turtle, who had not even coughed in class, let alone speak, called out with the gravest of faces and most serious and steady of voices, “Yeah, that was her first problem.” Everyone in the room laughed at this comment, while Costanza stood frozen by the comment. I may have laughed the hardest out of everyone, mainly because I am immature, but mostly because it was so far out of bounds, even for Turtle, that I could do nothing more than laugh.
She recovered after a few moments, trying to work her way around the interruption of the joke. I give her credit for even continuing the class after that, because “It was a HEART STOPPER!”
This moment lives on in my mind as the funniest thing to ever happen during this class. I think Costanza agreed with him, but was too mature and serious about her part time teaching job to laugh also. I’m convinced that she took an odd liking to him, and I could have sworn that I saw her and Turtle out at a candle lit dinner a few weeks later.
At the end of the semester, after I had written every paper she assigned and completed every homework assignment (despite the boring topics and easy parameters), I received a B+ in the class. I was content with this grade, and later that day, I met up with Turtle at “Snack East,” the on-campus eatery with such finery as tuna sandwiches and chicken baskets.
Turtle told me that he had received an A in the class. This angered me thoroughly, because Turtle wrote approximately 75% of the papers, and completed even less of the homework assignments. If it was anyone other than Turtle, I would have smashed his face in my tuna sandwich and stabbed him with the pickle, but I had to laugh in the end. He barely did any of the work, and he got a better grade than I did. What an ass.
You may be asking yourself what the moral of this story is.
Make inappropriate comments to your professors about the saddest and most serious of topics, then laugh about it with your friends and classmates. Then, complete less than three-quarters of your assignments, and spend as little time as possible paying attention in class. If you follow these carefully crafted rules, you are sure to ace any class.
This class was exceedingly boring, to say the least. Usually, the students of the class would painstakingly sit in the uncomfortable desks and listen to the screech of this Red Rocket of a woman, but occasionally, things would perk up enough to catch my attention and provide a laugh or two for the class.
On the first day of class, when the professor walked into the room, I was floored by what I saw. I originally thought that I was in an episode of Seinfeld, but after checking my surroundings, I realized that I was still in a dull colored room in a portable building connected to the side of the library.
This professor had short and curly reddish hair, was dumpy and squat, and her voice squealed with the pig-like charm of Mrs. Costanza. At first it was funny, and Turtle and I spent a few minutes giggling like small girls. Then she started to repeat the same phrases, such as “It’s not fair!“ and “It’s such a heart stopper!” Each time she said this, we snickered at her foolish comments.
I thought that this class would be a good time and a fine addition to my schedule, as it was easy, but not too easy, and boring, but not so much that I fell asleep. My hopes were soon drowned out by the dreadful stories this woman would reference. She seemed to know as much about writing as I do about heart surgery. Faded paint has more going for it than this class did.
I spent a lot of time doodling on my notebook, as did Cousin Turtle. One day during class, while I was completing an intricate work of art consisting of the four colors of my Four Color Pen, Costanza made mention of the Texas mother who drown her children in the bathtub. This story was all over the news for months, and it was sad, to say the least. She drown her kids! What is sadder and less deserving of a joke?
She began to describe the killer mother’s traits and explained why she was sick, then mentioned that she home schooled her children for their entire lives.
Cousin Turtle, who had not even coughed in class, let alone speak, called out with the gravest of faces and most serious and steady of voices, “Yeah, that was her first problem.” Everyone in the room laughed at this comment, while Costanza stood frozen by the comment. I may have laughed the hardest out of everyone, mainly because I am immature, but mostly because it was so far out of bounds, even for Turtle, that I could do nothing more than laugh.
She recovered after a few moments, trying to work her way around the interruption of the joke. I give her credit for even continuing the class after that, because “It was a HEART STOPPER!”
This moment lives on in my mind as the funniest thing to ever happen during this class. I think Costanza agreed with him, but was too mature and serious about her part time teaching job to laugh also. I’m convinced that she took an odd liking to him, and I could have sworn that I saw her and Turtle out at a candle lit dinner a few weeks later.
At the end of the semester, after I had written every paper she assigned and completed every homework assignment (despite the boring topics and easy parameters), I received a B+ in the class. I was content with this grade, and later that day, I met up with Turtle at “Snack East,” the on-campus eatery with such finery as tuna sandwiches and chicken baskets.
Turtle told me that he had received an A in the class. This angered me thoroughly, because Turtle wrote approximately 75% of the papers, and completed even less of the homework assignments. If it was anyone other than Turtle, I would have smashed his face in my tuna sandwich and stabbed him with the pickle, but I had to laugh in the end. He barely did any of the work, and he got a better grade than I did. What an ass.
You may be asking yourself what the moral of this story is.
Make inappropriate comments to your professors about the saddest and most serious of topics, then laugh about it with your friends and classmates. Then, complete less than three-quarters of your assignments, and spend as little time as possible paying attention in class. If you follow these carefully crafted rules, you are sure to ace any class.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Intolerably Awful Drivers, and How Road Rage Will Save Your Life.
NOTE: I do not advise doing the things that I write about. Keep in mind that I am not a bad person, just an angry person.
I hate awful drivers. I hate them so much that it is probably not healthy how much I hate them. I spend a lot of my personal time thinking about how much I despise these people, and I get angrier and angrier the more that I think about them.
Exhibit A: The other night, on my way home from work, I was driving on interstate 395, between the towns of Griswold and Plainfield. I came upon a Massachusetts driver (MASSholes) who was in the passing lane and maintaining a 60 MPH cruising speed. May I remind you that the speed limit os 65 MPH, and the acceptable protocol, in my world, is to drive AT LEAST 65 MPH if you are in the traveling lane, and between 65 MPH and 79 MPH in the passing lane. This waste of space wasn’t passing the car on the side of him, but only keeping the same speed as him, effectively blocking any cars from passing him. Not driving the speed limit, blocking my way, holding me up. You suck, and I hope you crap your pants in public.
I waited for approximately 30 seconds for him to move out of the way(which was 29 seconds more than my usual wait time). When he did not vacate the lane, I flicked my high beams at him one time, only a quick flash, and then waited a few more seconds for him to respond. He stayed where he was, oblivious, or so it seemed, to any other driver other than himself. I flashed the high beams again, and this time, the guy took off like a rocket, accelerating to over 80 MPH. I proceeded to press down on the pedal and continue on with my trip home in a terrible mood, but managing my anger in the usual fashion.
ANGER LEVEL: 3/10
At this point, I am thoroughly annoyed and yelling at my dashboard about douche bags who shouldn’t be allowed to drive, and lighting up my second cigarette. I can see the idiot in front of me as I maintain my speed of 75 MPH, and I am quickly catching up to him again. Why did he go from 60 MPH to almost 90MPH, only to then drop down to 60 MPH again? Because he is a complete tool and should not be allowed to procreate.
He moved to the traveling lane after rocketing off, so I put my left blinker on and passed him, looking over at the driver and praying for him to flip me off so that I can black out and end up covered in his blood. He only looks at me with the dumbest of expressions as I pass by him, looking more like a mouth breathing inbred imbecile than a regular person. In disgust, I put on my right signal, and move in front of him.
I see the lights glint off my rearview mirror before I see him pass me, so I know that he is passing me now, trying to be the stereotypical tough guy on the highway. I turn on my interior light so he can see me and throw up my middle finger as he passes, then roll down my window and yell out a tirade of profanities, and think of ways that I can hurt this bottle of Summer’s Eve. I hate him, and he has broken my unspoken rules of the road. Yes, I am so narcissistic that I have my own set of rules when driving that I expect all driver’s around me to follow.
ANGER LEVEL: 6/10
My anger is spiking quickly, so I press the gas pedal down and keep up with Mr. MASShole. He moves back over in front of me, and then slows way down again. Now, I’m about to approach the point of no return in terms of anger, and this sad sack of crap is the intended target of my outburst of epic proportions.
It’s not safe to pass someone on the right hand side in this country, and I don’t condone this type of behavior. Either way, I did this, and the jerk decides to speed up too, so that I am not able to pass him. There is a car and a tractor trailer truck in front of me about a quarter of a mile ahead, and I want to pass this guy before I get to them. Alas, he will not let me pass, and I am punching my steering wheel because it now looks just like the driver of the car on the side of me.
ANGER LEVEL: 9/10
I decide to risk it, and while this guy is pacing me and not letting me pass, I put my left blinker on and start to merge into the passing lane, coming dangerously close to the side of the ass mouth’s car. He stomps on the brakes, because he is a little girl and I am a real man.
This display of cowardice is exactly what I am looking for, so I let him pass me, and then proceed to get behind him and continue on with my high beams blasting into his back window for about a mile. I put my blinker on early so he knows where I am going in case he wants to test me some more, but he only continues north on 395, no doubt making his way to his ballet rehearsal.
I approached the ultimate 10/10 ANGER LEVEL, but did not reach it. I am kind of happy that I did not reach this level, because, let’s be honest, it’s not healthy or advantageous to become so enraged by someone you don’t even know who happened to do something that you didn’t like.
The moral of this story is incredibly simple: Please don’t act like a piece of crap when driving. Don’t drive under the speed limit, don’t try to disturb other driver’s with childish antics, and don’t test someone who is better than you at everything in life. You will look like a complete jerk to anyone who sees it, and it will bring you that much closer to being a no-count piece of backwoods trash who has nothing going for him in life besides the cool car his mother let him borrow to go out cruising.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Explaning Away the "KGB," and tramp stamps. How are these two things related?
For anyone who might be concerned that I am part of the KGB, please rest assured, I am not a member, leader, or in any way involved with the KGB. Those are just the initials of my full given name.
I think these initials are pretty interesting, and I really like having them. I like them so much that when I was 18, I had these initials tattooed on my lower back. Yes, I have a tramp stamp. When I was 18 years old, in the year 1999, lower back tattoos were becoming quite popular, but they had yet to be called tramp stamps.
But now, almost 11 years later, I am stuck with this faded set of initials on my back. My wife and family constantly make fun of this tattoo, and I find myself defending it each time. The truth is simple, and I need to just admit defeat on this matter: I HAVE A TRAMP STAMP, AND I AM PROUD OF IT!
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