Cool story time.
The other day, my family was having dinner. Business as usual. That is, right up until my mom tried parenting. When we arrived at the table, all that sat on our plates was salad. We were told that we would not be allowed the main course until we finished our salad.
Mom. I'm freaking 17. I can eat my salad without being forced into it.
This sums up nicely what my first problem was. The babying. I've found that children like to behave the age they are told they are. If they're handed responsibility, they like to act as if they deserve it. The opposite is also true. If they are treated like they have no idea what they're doing, or if they're sheltered to the point where they have no idea that there are people out there who actually drink beer, then they've been subject to bad parenting. I understand the need to try and baby kids, but in the long run, it's damaging.
My other issue with this is how the salad was treated. It was an obstacle, a mountain in the way, a bad thing that must be endured. By treating the salad-eating as a requirement, it immediately becomes associated with punishment. Though this wins the battle, it loses the war. My dear impressionable siblings will forever view salad as that thing they hated for keeping their dinner away from them.
At this point, all zero of my readers who have their own children are saying, "gee willikers, how on earth do we get them to do what we want them to, then?" My answer, in its simplest: You don't. The best you can hope for is that they'll follow the path you want them to, and the way to do that is to lead by example. Little kids like to imitate what they see as the adult way of life. If you want your kids to eat salad first, put all the food on the plate, then eat your own flipping salad first.
Now, I'll be gone fighting bears out in the woods for the next few days. Don't expect any updates for a week or so. In the meantime, tell your friends, tell your wife, tell your husband that this page exists, and enjoy your lives and stuff.
Peace out, readers.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Friday, July 27, 2012
Stupidity
This piece of crap keeps showing up on my newsfeed:
Okay, I get it. Feminism. That's great. But if you want to make a craftsy sign like this, make sure your data supports your claim. I agree with every part of this sign, except for the last sentence. Could I rewrite this, it would go something as follows:
There is MALE inside feMALE (as awkwardly suggestive as that sounds)
MR in every MRs;
HE in each sHE.
This proves that words describing females are hard to write without inadvertently writing a word to describe males.
One last note on this: if you're going to make a poster like this, at least grammar properly. "Which prove that" is a horrendous mess of letters that ought to be outlawed.
Peace out, readers.
Okay, I get it. Feminism. That's great. But if you want to make a craftsy sign like this, make sure your data supports your claim. I agree with every part of this sign, except for the last sentence. Could I rewrite this, it would go something as follows:
There is MALE inside feMALE (as awkwardly suggestive as that sounds)
MR in every MRs;
HE in each sHE.
This proves that words describing females are hard to write without inadvertently writing a word to describe males.
One last note on this: if you're going to make a poster like this, at least grammar properly. "Which prove that" is a horrendous mess of letters that ought to be outlawed.
Peace out, readers.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Fishing
Compliment fishing. Specifically, the variety of, "I'm such a failure, pity me". Now, normal fishers are hard enough to stand. Those ones want compliments, which is bad. This variety wants pity, which is worse. The point that gets me every time is that they're right: they do suck. Then why on earth are they calling all this attention to it? That's what happens when pity is asked for. It's saying, "I suck. Tell me you feel bad about me sucking, because I suck." They draw unbelievable amounts of attention toward something they claim to hate about themselves.
That's when I realized that they don't hate it, they like it. It's their way of getting attention. It's not positive attention, but it's attention, so they don't care. Pity is a wonderfully ironic form of pride. We are proud of failing, proud enough to draw attention to ourselves. It's a completely tooling move, and I hate it.
Im not saying that we shouldn't feel bad when we fail. Quite the opposite. That bad feel is a necessity for self-improvement. Failures are not meant as attention-hogging flags. Rather, they are for quiet reflection. Feel free to impart your worries on others, but don't do it in a way that'll invoke pity. Rather, use it as a resolve for improvement.
Peace out, readers.
That's when I realized that they don't hate it, they like it. It's their way of getting attention. It's not positive attention, but it's attention, so they don't care. Pity is a wonderfully ironic form of pride. We are proud of failing, proud enough to draw attention to ourselves. It's a completely tooling move, and I hate it.
Im not saying that we shouldn't feel bad when we fail. Quite the opposite. That bad feel is a necessity for self-improvement. Failures are not meant as attention-hogging flags. Rather, they are for quiet reflection. Feel free to impart your worries on others, but don't do it in a way that'll invoke pity. Rather, use it as a resolve for improvement.
Peace out, readers.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Speaking
Shakespeare once said that brevity is the soul of wit. If this post were to be witty, it would be over by now. I'm not going to do that. Nope. Instead, you get a post about discussion etiquette.
Inspired by one of my friends, I have taken up the practice of never sending one-word texts. The funny thing about language is that it usually takes more than one word to convey an intelligible sentence, let alone a meaningful one. Our word choice betrays much of our personality. If you have spent any time around me, it will be evident that I'm well aware of this. To offer my own evaluation, the way I speak is a fairly straightforward one. I try to convey my message, but at the same time, tinge every sentence with a bit of flavor, a slice of irony. It doesn't matter if I'm addressing my parents, my teachers, or my live studio audience, my voice remains the same. I try to use the voice the Blarney Stone granted me to attempt conveying my thoughts in the most effective way possible. I've got a few rules I hold to when speaking, most of which I've already touched on in this piece. The rest of this post will be me expounding on them:
1) Don't be brief
We've already touched enough on this one.
2) Don't be long-winded
Almost as harmful as being brief, saying too much is another speaking pitfall I attempt to jump over at any opportunity. Nothing loses a crowd like drowning them in supplementary material.
3) Always censor your thoughts
One of the things that drives me crazy are those who have no filter separating their brain from their mouth. There's a reason that our brain isn't broadcast for the world to hear: it says a ton of stupid things.
4) Never censor the way you expound on them.
One thing I consider to be a strength of mine when I speak. Regardless of my audience, my diction remains rather constant. If you have to change to fit your audience, your voice isn't good enough.
5) Always speak with a hint of humor
The most sure fire way to engage a crowd is to make sure that they have something worth listening to. Whether I speak as an orator or as a disgruntled student, I want my audience to know that I want them to be entertained.
Following my own tip #2, I'm done.
Peace out, readers.
Inspired by one of my friends, I have taken up the practice of never sending one-word texts. The funny thing about language is that it usually takes more than one word to convey an intelligible sentence, let alone a meaningful one. Our word choice betrays much of our personality. If you have spent any time around me, it will be evident that I'm well aware of this. To offer my own evaluation, the way I speak is a fairly straightforward one. I try to convey my message, but at the same time, tinge every sentence with a bit of flavor, a slice of irony. It doesn't matter if I'm addressing my parents, my teachers, or my live studio audience, my voice remains the same. I try to use the voice the Blarney Stone granted me to attempt conveying my thoughts in the most effective way possible. I've got a few rules I hold to when speaking, most of which I've already touched on in this piece. The rest of this post will be me expounding on them:
1) Don't be brief
We've already touched enough on this one.
2) Don't be long-winded
Almost as harmful as being brief, saying too much is another speaking pitfall I attempt to jump over at any opportunity. Nothing loses a crowd like drowning them in supplementary material.
3) Always censor your thoughts
One of the things that drives me crazy are those who have no filter separating their brain from their mouth. There's a reason that our brain isn't broadcast for the world to hear: it says a ton of stupid things.
4) Never censor the way you expound on them.
One thing I consider to be a strength of mine when I speak. Regardless of my audience, my diction remains rather constant. If you have to change to fit your audience, your voice isn't good enough.
5) Always speak with a hint of humor
The most sure fire way to engage a crowd is to make sure that they have something worth listening to. Whether I speak as an orator or as a disgruntled student, I want my audience to know that I want them to be entertained.
Following my own tip #2, I'm done.
Peace out, readers.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Being a Man
Nothing Interesting is on TV. There are a lot of stupid people on the internet, I don't want to be knocked out by the Summer Reading Assignment again, and my jaw is still to sore to do anything meaningful outside. I'm blogging.
Now, this post is derived from a discussion I've had with quite a few of my female friends (yes, this demographic does exist). It is the age-long discussion that has re-emerged in every generation: What does it mean to be a man?
Let's enter into this discussion the most fitting way possible.
Now that we've been properly introduced, let's do this the good old-fashioned way. Doubtless, there are many benefits to being a man. Of course, the Y chromosome is also a burden to bear. Ladies and gents, I give unto you a Pros and Cons chart!
Pros of Being a Man:
Never have to worry about hair
Allowed to watch stupid movies and not be judged as harsly
We can freely admit that bodily functions exist in front of each other
No make-up
Generally less dramatic lives
Interior design doesn't bug most men
We aren't expected to be as artsy
7 shades of color. That's it
Guy jerks, although usually pretty bad, are nowhere near as bad as female jerks
You get to like cool things like Avatar and Batman and not get shunned because of it
Get to be as mysterious ad the dark side of the moon
Most members of your sex don't talk
Getting to be a dad. How cool is that?
Con, Man (See what I did there?)
You end up hanging out with a lot of pyros
You are expected to like sports
Having to always take the initiative when dealing with relationships
Have to fight a bear like every night
The constant pressure to appear masculine
Most other members of your sex can't talk
Men's locker rooms
Get to work until we're 65
Hair must remain above the neckline
Often viewed as the brute workers, not fun
Wangst is often more frowned on
That's all for now. This post may very well warrant a part two.
Now, this post is derived from a discussion I've had with quite a few of my female friends (yes, this demographic does exist). It is the age-long discussion that has re-emerged in every generation: What does it mean to be a man?
Let's enter into this discussion the most fitting way possible.
Now that we've been properly introduced, let's do this the good old-fashioned way. Doubtless, there are many benefits to being a man. Of course, the Y chromosome is also a burden to bear. Ladies and gents, I give unto you a Pros and Cons chart!
Pros of Being a Man:
Never have to worry about hair
Allowed to watch stupid movies and not be judged as harsly
We can freely admit that bodily functions exist in front of each other
No make-up
Generally less dramatic lives
Interior design doesn't bug most men
We aren't expected to be as artsy
7 shades of color. That's it
Guy jerks, although usually pretty bad, are nowhere near as bad as female jerks
You get to like cool things like Avatar and Batman and not get shunned because of it
Get to be as mysterious ad the dark side of the moon
Most members of your sex don't talk
Getting to be a dad. How cool is that?
Con, Man (See what I did there?)
You end up hanging out with a lot of pyros
You are expected to like sports
Having to always take the initiative when dealing with relationships
Have to fight a bear like every night
The constant pressure to appear masculine
Most other members of your sex can't talk
Men's locker rooms
Get to work until we're 65
Hair must remain above the neckline
Often viewed as the brute workers, not fun
Wangst is often more frowned on
That's all for now. This post may very well warrant a part two.
Participation Points and Punks
In a nutshell, I hate both.
This is a post I've been meaning to write for quite a while, so I guess I'll elaborate a bit more.
Participation points are the great hoe of of the grade book. They can take the average student's grade and pump it up to a ridiculous level. Never mind grades acting as a measure of aptitude! You can color in a map? Take some points. You read the chapter last night? Have a few points. Points piled upon points, until only minimal skill is needed to pass the class.
Now, I'm not saying that participation points should be done away with entirely. No. A few participation points, when used sparingly and wisely, can give a bit of wiggle room for the stressed student. Participation points, however, should not be enough to raise a D to an A.
This is where the punks come in. If somebody sits in a pool of participation points long enough, they will eventually notice that something is up. As soon as they do, people start riding the system. Remember that kid I told you about a few posts ago? The one who was just going to "have fun" on the final? It was because he felt he had the security of a thousand fodder assignments at his back. Participation points are stupid. The end.
Peace out, readers.
This is a post I've been meaning to write for quite a while, so I guess I'll elaborate a bit more.
Participation points are the great hoe of of the grade book. They can take the average student's grade and pump it up to a ridiculous level. Never mind grades acting as a measure of aptitude! You can color in a map? Take some points. You read the chapter last night? Have a few points. Points piled upon points, until only minimal skill is needed to pass the class.
Now, I'm not saying that participation points should be done away with entirely. No. A few participation points, when used sparingly and wisely, can give a bit of wiggle room for the stressed student. Participation points, however, should not be enough to raise a D to an A.
This is where the punks come in. If somebody sits in a pool of participation points long enough, they will eventually notice that something is up. As soon as they do, people start riding the system. Remember that kid I told you about a few posts ago? The one who was just going to "have fun" on the final? It was because he felt he had the security of a thousand fodder assignments at his back. Participation points are stupid. The end.
Peace out, readers.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
The Pre-Surgical Post
In a few hours, I get to undergo the removal of my wisdom teeth. Wheeeee. I was considering a great number of things to talk about in this post. You could have read about the blues, about arterials and side streets, about participation points, or perhaps about forging signatures. Nope. Today, you get to read about the ever-so-exciting topic... Of fandom.
Ah yes, the raving sea of devotees that find a book or television show that is so magical, they have to tell everyone. Their greatest joy in life, aside from watching their show of choice, is rubbing it into the face of every other teenager on the planet. If my view isn't clear yet, I really hate fandoms. Let's take a look at a few:
Harry Potter:
The staple example. Harry Potter is a series of fine movies and even better books. JK Rowling is one of the finer authors out there. I fear that her subtle wit goes unnoticed by most of the crowd, in favor of the story of a boy wizard. Here's my problem with the fandom: everyone and their dog has jumped on it. It is one thing to look at the book carefully, as a piece of art, and admire it a such. It is another thing entirely to dress up in robes and point sticks at everything. You're 17 now. Stop it. Harry Potter has been drowned by so many fans, the chances of finding an intelligent, practical one are remote.
Avatar: TLA/LOK:
This is a fan base I tend to tolerate a bit more, on account that there are significantly less cheerleaders on this fandom because they were too busy reading the Harry Potter books to fit in. However, this is where the problem starts. Although a dedicated fanbase, they are, once again, a little too dedicated. Meaning that they don't shut up about it. Ever. Some of the spoony first years took this to crazy proportions. Some kid throws a spoon. "He's a spoonbender!" A guy fans himself while drinking water. "It's the Avatar!" No, kid. It's not the Avatar, he's not spoonbending, and you're giving the show a bad name. Shut up.
(Spoonbender is now part of my auto correct dictionary. How cool is that?)
Doctor Who:
Another one of my favorite shows. Another freaky fandom. True Whovians are great people, mind you, but the number of posers you get in the fandom, well, that's something else entirely. Doctor Who, due to both it's off-the-wall sci-fi nature and being produced on the other side of the pond, produces a great number of stupid hipster fans. I really don't like about 80% of the fandom at my school, because they make up this body of posers. And for what? Who are they trying to impress? Other stupid hipsters. Why can't they have their socially awkward make-out sessions without getting my show in the way?
The Hunger Games:
A fandom crazy enough to drive me away. Future Gladiators fighting to the death in a huge, man-made stadium? Cool. Debates over whether Peeta has nicer abs than Gale? Not cool. This inner bickering, alongside the Harry-Potteresque hype, drove me away in disgust.
Twilight:
This one, I'm not going to discuss the fans. Nope, I'm going after the haters this time around. So I'm defending the books? Sue me. I have never read Stephanie Meyer's book, I don't intend to. It doesn't sound like an appealing series. However, there are too many haters directing their energy at Twilight. I understand if you don't like it, but please at least refrain from telling Facebook three times a day about it. If your final literature project is to graffiti Twilight and call it art, you've probably gone too far.
Fans. I'll never understand them.
Peace out, readers.
Ah yes, the raving sea of devotees that find a book or television show that is so magical, they have to tell everyone. Their greatest joy in life, aside from watching their show of choice, is rubbing it into the face of every other teenager on the planet. If my view isn't clear yet, I really hate fandoms. Let's take a look at a few:
Harry Potter:
The staple example. Harry Potter is a series of fine movies and even better books. JK Rowling is one of the finer authors out there. I fear that her subtle wit goes unnoticed by most of the crowd, in favor of the story of a boy wizard. Here's my problem with the fandom: everyone and their dog has jumped on it. It is one thing to look at the book carefully, as a piece of art, and admire it a such. It is another thing entirely to dress up in robes and point sticks at everything. You're 17 now. Stop it. Harry Potter has been drowned by so many fans, the chances of finding an intelligent, practical one are remote.
Avatar: TLA/LOK:
This is a fan base I tend to tolerate a bit more, on account that there are significantly less cheerleaders on this fandom because they were too busy reading the Harry Potter books to fit in. However, this is where the problem starts. Although a dedicated fanbase, they are, once again, a little too dedicated. Meaning that they don't shut up about it. Ever. Some of the spoony first years took this to crazy proportions. Some kid throws a spoon. "He's a spoonbender!" A guy fans himself while drinking water. "It's the Avatar!" No, kid. It's not the Avatar, he's not spoonbending, and you're giving the show a bad name. Shut up.
(Spoonbender is now part of my auto correct dictionary. How cool is that?)
Doctor Who:
Another one of my favorite shows. Another freaky fandom. True Whovians are great people, mind you, but the number of posers you get in the fandom, well, that's something else entirely. Doctor Who, due to both it's off-the-wall sci-fi nature and being produced on the other side of the pond, produces a great number of stupid hipster fans. I really don't like about 80% of the fandom at my school, because they make up this body of posers. And for what? Who are they trying to impress? Other stupid hipsters. Why can't they have their socially awkward make-out sessions without getting my show in the way?
The Hunger Games:
A fandom crazy enough to drive me away. Future Gladiators fighting to the death in a huge, man-made stadium? Cool. Debates over whether Peeta has nicer abs than Gale? Not cool. This inner bickering, alongside the Harry-Potteresque hype, drove me away in disgust.
Twilight:
This one, I'm not going to discuss the fans. Nope, I'm going after the haters this time around. So I'm defending the books? Sue me. I have never read Stephanie Meyer's book, I don't intend to. It doesn't sound like an appealing series. However, there are too many haters directing their energy at Twilight. I understand if you don't like it, but please at least refrain from telling Facebook three times a day about it. If your final literature project is to graffiti Twilight and call it art, you've probably gone too far.
Fans. I'll never understand them.
Peace out, readers.
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