Bloggie Darko

http://www.kmov.com/news/local/Local-school-teacher-quits-after-student-discovers-her-x-rated-past-117562414.html

So here's the set up:

You're the average high school male cruising the interwebs for porn. You come across one that looks pretty good so you watch it. And... wait a minute, thats Ms. Myers from history. Holy. Crap. You just hit the mother load. Apparently the first thing this guy did was tell every single person in his school about it and the teacher gets fired. Really, high school male student? Teacher porn is incredibly sexy. Just type in teacher to any porn search site and see how many thousands of videos pop up. And you waste a years worth of fantasies just to tell all your friends that you search for porn hardcore enough (pardon the pun) that you discovered your teacher in one of the videos you watch. For shame student. As a masturbating male, I am ashamed of you. I mean come on, you're teacher used to be a FUCKING PORN STAR. What the hell were you thinking? I just can't comprehend or fathom....

Recommended Viewing: Donnie Darko

Some Blog it Hot

I see why so many college kids commit suicide. Sure, they don't have "real world" problems like taxes or kids to support or house payments. At least most don't. But when it gets to be midnight the day before you have two homeworks and an essay due, and a major test in 2 days, and you haven't begun the essay or studying, and you keep thinking about that girl who gave you that look on the bus, and you're freaking out because you've been skipping class, ironically, to catch up on homework.... yeah, I could see why college kids would consider killing themselves. Its the fear of failure. Of disappointment. From teachers. And parents. And peers Of not living up to the expectations in the world. That people have been unconsciously heaping upon you for the first eighteen years of your life. It's pretty fucking scary sometimes. I've read a few places that adderall and ritalin are the most used drugs on college campuses. They report on it like it's some new thing, which I guess to them it is. Well, no shit college kids are taking ADD drugs. We have become the generation with a thirty second attention span, and can't read the driest textbook ever created for more than five minutes without pushing it six to eight inches to one side, and slamming your head against the table. That's where the drugs come in. So, drugs and suicide. These are the things I think about.
   Now, don't look all carefully into this post. This is not a cry for help. This aren't my last words to the world or anything overly dramatic as that. That situation, as of now, is purely hypothetical and I was just using it to show that I see why college kids commit suicide. I do think about suicide sometimes. How I would do it. Who would discover me first. How long it would take for someone to discover me. What would happen to all my things after I was gone. All of these and others. When I think on a situation, I consider all the options. All of them. And killing yourself and completely avoiding it altogether definitely falls into that category. Every time I do think about it, the one thing that really does stop me is all the things I have yet to experience. I still want to skydive, and bungee jump, and travel over an ocean. There are countless places I still want to have sex at. And I am really not going anywhere till I get under 120 on expert minesweeper. So, there's all those unfulfilled promises to myself keeping me here.
   I know this is a pretty dark post, and I'm sure I'll get some messages after I post it, but come on. Don't try to tell me you don't think about this too. I have a hunch everyone has their dark twisted little thoughts in their dark twisted little minds that's just waiting to spring forth from your mouth and freak out everyone around you. I'm just brave enough to put it on the world wide web. Hopefully inspire a few other people to write about truly secretive things that they think. Because that's what I like to do when I meet someone, dig into their brain. So come on, live a little and throw that disturbing thought out into the world and see who you can scare into not being your friend anymore. If they don't like you more for the truly trippy thoughts you have, then they weren't a good friend to begin with.

Recommended viewing experience:
The Machinist (movie) 

Blog Kong

A list of all the quicklinks to websites in my toolbar in order of appearance:

Gmail
Facebook
Cooliris
Comingsoon.net
Amazon
Pandora
IMDB
Netflix
Wikipedia
Math XL
MyEcoLab
Geeks of Doom
/Film
Movieline
One Cool Thing a Day
io9
The A.V. Club
Marlee Matlin fan site
Shoshannah Stern fan site
Manga reading site
Filmspotting
Cinemablend
Microbricks
Brothers Brick
Ain't it Cool
Collider
Geekologie
The Chive
27bslash6.com
USAA
Digg
Class Point
Instructables
UT
Shirt Woot
riptapparel.com
Teefury
Youtube
Blackboard
Mgh Landing
Introduction to Psychology
LHB
Playlist.com
Hulu
OK Cupid
Yahoo! Finance
Cramster
Quick Silverscreen
FML
MyLifeIsAverage
Watch Movie Links Online
ACL 2010 tickets

Recommended viewing:
The West Wing (TV show)

Blog Day Afternoon

   I never thought writing would me make me feel good, like this does. Coming directly from two liberally artsy minded parents, and me having a predilection towards the maths, I really never thought I would write anything outside of school. But here I am, crafting a blog. It makes me feel good to write my thoughts here, hidden in plain sight. In a place where no one or everyone in the world could read them. Also, the slight voyeuristic edge to it makes it quite a bit exhilarating. It provides just enough guilt for me to want to keep writing, but not enough to completely distract me. It's always there on the back burner. It also provides the satisfaction of getting thoughts rattling around in my head onto the page. Because, I mean come on, doesn't everyone want to hear my incoherent ramblings?
   Along the same vein of writing stuff on the internet, some poetry is about to follow. A note about that: I have never taken any higher level English courses, but I see poetry as another art form. It was created from the mind of the artist, to embody whatever they happened to be feeling or thinking at that moment. You, as the viewer, are free to think whatever you want about it, but just remember, anything original I write, I made for me, not for you. So, if you don't like it, I want to sincerely say, from the bottom of my heart: Go play in traffic.

She

I was afraid

And I called his name to wash away my fears

But he did not answer

I was alone 

And I called his name to feel his embrace

But he did not answer

I was sad

And I called his name to bring me joy

But he did not answer

I grew to be hopeless

But then, out of darkness, She answered

And I realized

It had been Her voice I had been searching for all along

-Nine Fingers

This brick
Which is gripped by my fingers
Which shoot out from my hand
Which is fastened to my arm
That meets up with my shoulder
That sits well below my head
That surrounds my brain
Which is tied up with thoughts of resentment, fear, and loathing
Because of your using me in your road to
Wealth and power
Will crash through your picture window
And kill you

 

-Street Sweeper Social Club

(Lyrics to The Squeeze)

A Blog to Remember

I caught up with a friend today. Well, I use those terms loosely, because I have only really spoken to her face to face a grand total of about four hours, and the last time we spoke was about a semester and a half ago. But, in a night of real catching up with a friend, I tipsily texted about 6 or 7 people that I thought might be good to talk to with slightly less inhibited thoughts. And what resulted was an arrangement to meet earlier today for a half hour. See, I had quite rapidly grown some affection for the aforementioned female, and had no way to approach past the point of awkwardly texting every months and saying things like, "Hey how're you doing?", "Things going alright?", "How's the semester treating you?". I currently have that type of relationship with a couple of exquisitely lovely women. Do I be honest? Come straight out with a profession of interest beyond platonicism? Ask them on a date? Lose the chance to have some awkward "catch up" meetings every few months? Or do I slow play it, like a solid hand of poker? Keep up the random texts every few months and hope something might happen down the road? Because, I am useless without having the opportunity to see the women I become infatuated with on a regular basis. For some reason, the feelings linger there, bubbling beneath the surface, but I am absolutely horrible at keeping up a regular text conversation with most girls. I can never start it out and I always seem awkward, like, "Is she going to respond, or think I'm weird for not texting in months and just coming out of the blue?" I much prefer the face to face talk, but in a tech rising age, words tend to be written to each other, more than spoken. Maybe I'm living in the wrong decade. Or maybe I just need to suck it up and grow a pair.
   So me and this quite delightful and beautiful woman sat down to a roughly 30 minute talk, as she had a prior engagement. We chatted about some recent occurrences in her life; A slight road trip on the way back from a club, as a result of bad navigation. A private instructor that she did not like at all last semester, and how much better she liked the one she had now. Her attendance to an all girls high school. The fact that some people said she looked Asian, when she wasn't at all. This led to the discussion that she loved being a piano major; the practicing, the music, the performing, everything. These people had said that she "practiced like an Asian", and she seems to practice quite a bit.
   Now, I know absolutely nothing about the hierarchy of the music department works. I have no idea how good people are or aren't. So, I wanted to know from her,"How good are you?" She seemed a little surprised, maybe a little offended at my blatant question. At first she tried to dodge my question. Laugh it off a little. But I persisted. "Come on, have the biggest ego you can right now, just tell me, how good are you?" She kept trying to avoid with such answers as "I dunno, I'm alright." and others. But I had a hunch that she was pretty good, and I wanted to hear her say it. "So, have you like been in any competitions or anything like that? How have you done? Have you won?""I've done alright.""So you're pretty good then.""No....." With each of my "So you're pretty good then"'s she seemed to get perhaps a little redder and a little more frustrated. In her frustration, she turned it around on me, "So how smart are you? What's your I.Q.?" And I answered in what I thought to be the most honest way,"I've never taken an I.Q test, but I think I'm a lot smarter than most people think I am because I really don't speak up all that much. (Pause) I don't study nearly as much as I should, but I would describe myself as an intellectual.""Oh, really." She seemed somewhat satisfied but still frustrated with me. I began to see that her always exuberant and cheerful demeanor was starting to slip and I realized I had upset her. She began to get up, as she had to go, and I looked directly at her and said, "Hey, I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry.""No, no, it's fine," she said in the fake sing-song voice of someone who doesn't want you to know that something is up. I don't remember the good byes or what else was said, as I was trying to wonder why she seemed upset with my prying. But I do remember the awkward situation where she gave me the one armed hug while I went in for two, and my hands ended up on her shoulder with the other shoulder pressed into my chest, and she completely avoided looking at me whatsoever.
   All I wanted was to know how good she was. I thought it would be really cool knowing a really good pianist at the University of Texas, and I thought people liked talking about themselves. She has practiced for hours upon hours for years to get where she is now. Doesn't she want to brag at some point? To a person that has straight up told her to have the biggest ego she could in that moment? To show what she knows from years of hard work? To be honest, I don't know any really great pianists personally, and I just really wanted to hear her play. Is there something in her past that keeps her from bragging? An embarrassing reason that brings back horrible feelings? A pledge to herself that keeps her practicing all those hours that she keeps closely and safely guarded? A strive for perfection that can only be found if she never admits she's good? I could speculate till I run out of blog space, but I don't think I'll ever find out the rhyme or reason, and neither will anyone else. Maybe for her, its that one thing we all keep hidden from the world, that no one's allowed to see. I don't know. But, if you're out there reading this, know that I truly am sorry. I sometimes get caught up in my own head and forget how my actions and words can hurt those around me. Now I may never know where those tri monthly texts could lead. I may not get another chance to talk to her again. Only time will tell.

Recommended Viewing Experience:
Groundhog Day (movie)

Animal Blog

   College has not been as completely rewarding to me as it should have been. I came in as an Engineering major, because I had no idea what I wanted to do and I was marginally better than most people at math and math related things. What followed was two years of mediocre grades and no plan or desire to continue things on that path. I was completely stuck in a rut. I didn't think to change, because I didn't really think that was that was an option. I had it in my mind, that since I had started as an engineer, I needed to finish as an engineer. But, of course, college doesn't work like that. It just took quite a bit longer to figure things out than it took everyone else. By the very very beginning of my third year, lets just say it became a bit of a requirement to leave the school of Engineering, as I couldn't really continue taking classes. What made that first week most unpleasant, was trying to appeal to a professor I had never met, to get into a class that I needed to retake, that I absolutely did not want to do again, and to be honest, saw no real point in doing anyway. That coupled with a very stern academic adviser, made those first couple weeks extremely depressing.
    Thankfully, UT does actually employ some people that do want to help you. I spoke with probably the nicest person I have met so far on campus in the general engineering office, and she helped me on my path out the door of the engineering section of school. We outlined some basic courses for me to take. She told me about the Career Assistance Center, where I took some career aptitude tests to better see what I wanted to do in life, where I also met some very nice people. But what she really did most, was provide a kind person to talk to in my time of despair and vulnerability. She never once gave me any type of disapproving or judgmental word or action because of my lackluster grades, as I had received elsewhere in the department. She knew that sometimes you just find yourself on a slippery slope to an unknown destination, and have no idea how to change that course. I had reached the end of my slippery slope, and had nearly given up. And she handed me a pair of climbing shoes.
   The real honest-to-god moment of clarity happened, though, when I was conversing with a friend a few weeks after I had started my new slate of Engineering Undeclared classes. He had been on much of the same path as me. Up until that point, I had still felt weird about having to leave Engineering. It felt like I was giving up on something, or wasn't worthy or smart enough to finish. And that made me feel small. And I hate feeling small. So, amidst our conversation, he said this to me; "Don't be afraid to change your major." It was like the proverbial veil had been pulled away. I had known that deep down inside of me somewhere, but had needed someone to say it out loud for me to actually understand it and its meaning. In that moment, I knew it was not Engineering that had left me, I had left Engineering. I did not leave because I had to. I finally left because I wanted to. Those bad grades at the end was just the push I needed. And for that, Chris, I thank you.
   But now, it is the end of my second day of classes in my Economics degree. I have been an Economics major for a summer and fall semester now and considerably more happier. I get to take much more interesting (to me) classes. I have way less restrictions and am able to take classes I want, which can not be said whatsoever for Engineering. And while I still have no idea what I'm doing after I graduate, I have considerably more fun learning what goes to my degree. Which, besides partying, isn't what college is all about? Becoming a better person through the study and knowledge of subjects that interest you? That's what I've slowly come to discover. I hope you realize it some day too.

Recommended Viewing Experience:
Accepted (movie) (This movie helped me immensely when I was still stuck in Engineering)

The Blog Next Door

"Hey!"
"Hey, wake up!"
I slowly awoke from my unconsciousness with a voice plowing into my brain and a bright, opaque light piercing through my eyelids.
"Whass happening?" I mumbled.
"We were hoping you could tell us that," the voice plower said.
I slowly opened my eyes to a sight I did not quite expect. A man was leaning over me with a slightly concerned, mostly scared expression on his face. Three other people were milling around about thirty feet away, with bemused expressions on their faces, looking at the sky and kicking the ground. As far as my eye could see, were hills and dunes and vast expanses of an orangish sand.
"What is this stuff?" I asked, slowly rising to my feet with the help of the voice plower.
"We don't know. We were hoping you knew something. Whats the last thing you remember? Do you remember who did this to you?"
"No," I replied, wracking my brain, "I was checking my email at home, then everything went black, and I woke up here."
"Yeah," the plower said disappointed, "That's about the last thing we remember too."
"Who are those other people?"
"Oh, sorry, from left to right, that Jing-el, Heimer, and John. And I'm Jacob. And you are?"
"My name's Smith."
"Nice to meet you Schmidt," he turned in the direction of the three others and yelled, "Hey guys, he's awake, come meet him!"
I brushed the orange sand off my body as they approached.
"Guys, this is Schmidt," said Jacob.
Hey's were murmured almost in unison.
"Schmidt's a weird name," piped up Heimer, with a defiant look on her face.
"Well, so is Heimer," I retorted, taken aback.
"Heimer's my last name," she said, looking a little embarassed at her outburst, "my parents were Swedish, and I hate my first name."
Jing-el was a quite pretty, quite quiet Asian woman. She hadn't so much as looked at me since walking over, let alone say something. If I had to guess, I would say Vietnamese and John was a rather portly fellow with a round, jolly face.
"So," I said, "Does anyone know what the heck is going on around here?"
"Well," John said, "I took a second to examine the sand for a bit, and it seems to be quite a sticky type of substance. If you rub it on your fingers, your sweat kind of makes it clump together."
We all took a second to reach down and feel the sand. None of us spoke for a minute as mulled over what this meant.
"Well, nothing's gonna happen if we stand around here. Lets walk and talk."
I turned to walk in the opposite direction of the group, hoping that they would follow, when I ran smack into something invisible that knocked me back onto the ground.
"Oof," I exclaimed. "What the heck was that?" I said as I slowly sat up, with the help of John and Jacob, rubbing my head. Jing-el was slowly running her hands through the air where I had run into something invisible.
"Are you miming or something?" I asked.
"I can't move my hands any further than this," she said quietly. "There's something blocking them."
"What does that mean?"
"I think I know what it means," she said cryptically.
"Well don't hold us in suspense, tell us what it is!"
"My father was an author," she said, slowly turning around, "and he used to tell me about these type of stories that authors would write about. It usually involved a big build up of the world and some kind of plot elements. Then, the ending would crash and burn. It would be utterly ridiculous. The author wouldn't be able to figure out how to end it, so he'd just use a cop out. It had a specific kind of name. I think we're stuck in one of those stories now."
"That sounds idiotic," scoffed Heimer, "How can we be stuck in a story? What is this, some kind of Matrix shit or something?
"I don't know!" Jing-el snapped back, "but I'm telling you, that's what's happening right now."
"Jing-el," I said calmly, "how do you know that's what's happening now?"
"Because of the name of the type of story they were."
"Which was?"
She escalated every word as if each of them were an increasing cry for help. A desperate plea for help from a terror that was greater than any she had known before it seemed, "We are trapped...." she paused and took a deep breath
"in a giant glass jar OF TANG!"

Fin

Recommended Viewing Experience:
Predators (movie)