Ace of Spades

Another Wednesday night in Riverside, California. Another night I'm spending alone. Well, that's not completely accurate - there's a daredevil Manx purring across the sofa from me and a 18 of my best friends staying cool in the fridge. Make that 17.

I barely drank at all when I first moved here. I was too anxious, getting my classes and life in line, studying for a big exam. When I finished with the exam, passing all three tests in under three hours and passing with flying colors, I made a few trips out to the local bars trying to discern some sort of scene around here. There isn't one. Downtown Riverside is barren. Riverside is barren. I kept my drinking to myself. It's cheaper, and the company is infinitely better.

Something happened. I kicked my drinking up to full-bore. Rum shots with beer chasers and no dreams, no nightmares. Something happened. I backed down. Red wine and chicken stir-fry for dinner. Healthy heart, that was me. Something happened, nothing happened. The mind is a powerful, deranged thing.

Why drink? Why drink at all? Why drink alone? It lets you sit at a bar and tune out the inane conversations around you. It turns you into a sieve, stupid recycled radio sluices through you and doesn't stick at all, but gems like "Have you seen that new show, Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? That show confuses me!" are caught and filed under Reasons to Keep Drinking.

It stops the questions. Questions like, Was that the last one-way flight she'll ever buy? Will my friends remember me? Will I remember them? The doubts you had about moving out here, that grow every time you go out and visit the wasteland, fade away. Never mind that you moved from one suburban hell to another. Never mind that there's no one here on your side. Drink puts you on the launch pad. You're stronger than this, you're the freaky radio here, you're the beacon.

Bang. Are you going to do it? That's another question. All the questions have answers, but can you face them? Will you find them is a better question. You won't tonight, tonight you've turned off the thinking part of your brain so you can get some sleep. This tide of mediocrity is overwhelming, so much more so than ever, and all you can do to stop from screaming is let your voice echo in another bottle or can or bathroom mirror.

Applications in the mail, loans on the table, bureaucracy in front, the past behind, reaching for the future. In the meantime? Feelin' great. Lay back and relax your mind - I'm about to double the dosage in the half the time!

Vaguely Related Paragraphs

Our T.A. brought up an interesting point in class today: American culture is focused on youth. He told us that nowhere else in the world is there such an obsession on young people. In fact, most of the world reveres older people instead, respecting their wisdom. Think about the rash of teeny-bopper stars (Lolitas like Spears and Aguilera to mere boys like Hanson) less than a decade ago. That in itself isn't so unusual, as their has been plenty of young musical acts in past decades. But moving past that, a lot of advertising is now aimed at teenagers and children because companies know that its these young people, not their working parents, who control the money. Perhaps people here look towards youth as a celebration of potential and care-free worry? Idealized youth represents freedom from the crap this nation is wading through.

I picked up a book to kill before class today, Salman Rushdie's Fury. Early in the first chapter the author makes a note about the difference between the Christian and Muslim moral universes. He writes that Christians have sin and redemption, while Muslims have shame and honor as their moral poles. This simple insight reveals a lot about a world I know a little about, and explains why Western philosophy is so far removed from the streets and cities of the Arab world. The two moral compasses have almost no overlap, especially since each has developed independently for hundreds of years. A situation: your daughter is raped. In Western philosophy, the one at fault is the rapist, he is evil, he is wrong, he is a sinner, he is punished. In many Islamic countries, the daughter is the one at fault. She has brought shame on her family and is punished, usually with death or mutilation. The rapist often receives punishment, but nowhere near as severe as the punishment the daughter receives, and it is not unheard of for the rapist to go free.

I just finished The Brothers Karamazov, a Russian novel about four brothers and the murder of their father, but primarily serves as a vehicle for Dosotoevsky's philosophies concerning good and evil in man through the influence of Christian religion. One of the brothers is an intellectual who renounces and mocks those who fall in line behind the church, and actually Dostoevsky provides through him some very compelling arguments against the existence of God. The next book I started reading is Nietzscshe's Thus Spoke Zarthustra, his most famous work. On page 3 of the novel the protagonist speaks one of the most well-known sentences associated with Nietzsche: "God is dead". Karamazov was published in 1880, and Zarathustra in 1883-1885.
It is doubtful that these two authors had any connection with each other, but it's even more important to realize that while the current generation always thinks it is on the cutting edge, every generation previous has thought the same. Just these two works provide enough philosophical weight to give that 140-year-old generation a lotta clout.

I don't really know what that last sentence means, but the takeaway here is that it may be a bit premature to put faith in the upcoming generation (we're Generation Y, apparently includes those born 1978 to 1998. Some call us Millennials). Instead we should focus on the problems we're facing right now, not hoping that a group of young up-and-coming people will bring solutions to light. Are these paragraphs related? Barely.

Countrified Counterculture

I don't think there is any counterculture left in America. Any idea that begins as an underground movement is quickly co-opted by a business corporation, marketed in a blitz, and six months later is so ubiquitous that 90% of the American population is familiar with or owns some bastardized product based off the idea, and the spirit of the idea is dead. A counterculture idea should exist outside the regular bounds of society - if it's a truly valid idea, it will reach a tipping point and spread of its own accord. Quoting directly from Malcolm Gladwell's book, companies purposely seek out these sort of ideas, attach themselves to it and ride the popularity to profit. Even worse, companies have begun seeking out these sort of ideas or simply creating their own convenient ideas and blanketing society with the intent of artificially creating their own tipping point - all for profit.

So that's why there isn't a counterculture in America. It's bought out in its infancy. Instead we have commentators. A counterculture is birthed as a reaction to the failings of popular culture. But now, any counterculture is literally aborted by its forced saturation, removing the potency of its meaning. So all we have left are those who can comment of the ridiculousness of our popular culture. Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, some stand-up comedians, some magazine and newspaper editorials are our commentators. Certain television shows and movies can be more indirect commentators, but two facts remain: there is no real counterculture, only commentators, and the commentators exist within the framework of the pop culture.

If there was a counterculture, we probably wouldn't be talking about it. A counterculture begins at the local level and usually stays there - if it is an idea with a true revolutionary spirit it will spread of its own accord, and it doesn't happen in a few weeks. I think that what needs to happen next is not necessarily the birth of true counterculture - that will come later - but a complete shift in people's frame of reference. We need to disconnect from the media, which has us aware of what is going on in every corner of the world. At first this was a great awareness-raising medium, but now it's become a giant advertising tool, telling us what people on the other side of the country are doing and how this is somehow important to us and the way we dress, the cars we drive, the music we listen to, or even the words we use. So what we need is a total frame shift. People are too concerned with other people. There aren't any individuals in the general populace. Individuals should be concerned with individuals. From there society will move forward, people focus on actually being people again.

Sorry this is really disjointed, It's late and I haven't really formed this idea very well. But I do think the next thing for people, for Americans at least, is a complete shift in reference. What we see now just can't be the future.

Adventure Time!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=LNVYWJOEy9A

Algebraic!

Note the air penguin guitar playing. Nickelodeon holds its own in the world of animation.

Bureaucrats for Jesus

I just cannot get over how much bureaucracy has infiltrated the world. Everyone now is almost fanatically concerned with political correctness, having filled out the right forms, have you been approved by this department, have you filled out this application... it goes on and on and on. What is really aggravating is the redundancy of it all. I feel like the bureaucracy exists solely for creating more jobs for the bureaucracy. Take for example becoming a teacher (wow! who could've known that's where I was going?!?). I have to take a certain regimen of classes, pass certain tests, teach a certain and specific curriculum, and submit my fingerprints to the state government for a background check. Pretty simple, yeah?

Well the background check, submitted on January 4th, is still being processed. I have, sitting in a folder right next to me, a statement from the state of Georgia that I am not a criminal, on both the state and federal levels. Can I use that here? No. That is stupid. Bureaucracy 1, Logic 0.

I have to pass two tests: a subject proficiency exam (CSET) and a basic skills exam (CBEST). Now, I have to take the CSET because my major (Food Science) does not match up well enough with any of the pre-set teaching credentials (Biology, etc.), so I have to prove my competence by taking three exams. Fair enough, point for Logic.

The CBEST is a 100 multiple-choice, two essay exam which, judging from the content, exists to ascertain whether or not I am autistic. It could have also been a test of paitence, as by the 45th time I was asked "What decimal does 3/5th represent? (actual question!)" I could have easily gotten up and started shouting. Are they serious? I have a fucking degree from a major university! I graduated high school! I graduated fourth grade and that is literally the skill level of this test!! Here is the most difficult math question, verbatim: 2x-7=13, what is x? And that was the only algebra problem. One of the essay questions: What is the best advice you have ever received? EVER?? HMM WELL ONE TIME I SAW A SIGN THAT SAID "PANTS FIRST THEN SHOES" AND THAT HAS WORKED WELL FOR ME YEP YEP TIME TO GO LEARN ABOUT FIRE SAFETY!! That Far Side cartoon is actually what I gave as the best advice ever. That is stupid. Bureaucracy 2, Logic 1.

I have to take some classes. 8 classes plus a teaching job for just the credential. I took one education class at UGA, a seminar-type thing where I basically taught a group of fifth graders twice a week for a semester, as part of Project FOCUS. At Kennesaw State I took two education classes, the basic and generalized introduction to education courses. Kennesaw and UGA operate on the semester unit, UC Riverside on the quarter system. A quarter is 10 weeks long; a semester is about 14 weeks long. Quarter classes (at least mine) meet once a week; semester classes meet three times a week. You cover more material in a semester. There is more homework. There is more learned. Is this true for all classes? For the purpose of this essay, yes. I've recieved credit for two courses here at UCR. I should recieve credit for three. Because of the nature of the quarter system, some major learning objectives are divided into two classes. What I have covered in one course at Kennesaw, is covered in two courses here. I cannot receive credit for the same transfer course twice. Stupid. Bureaucracy 3, Logic 1.

Finally, because of various laws (the stupidity of which I'll discuss later), what educators are allowed to teach is very strictly controlled. Teachers are required to follow a very specific outline. This outline includes an exact breakdown of what will be covered in the end-of-year test, including the number of questions per section (5 questions about trees, 2 questions about the oceans, etc.). The entire lesson plan is structured to teach to the test. Schools in California have actually been exposed as spending half the day teaching English and the other half Math - the two subjects currently tested and monitored by No Child Left Behind. Do you remember learning about the Chinese New Year, painting a pot you built and fired in a kiln, or recess? Not allowed anymore. This is stupid. Bureaucracy 4, Logic 1.

Basically, I'm frustrated that I can't just get out there and start teaching. I'm tired of constantly proving that I am capable, jumping through hoop after hoop, chasing down people all over the country for recommendations or getting signatures for countless forms. It is stupid. People are stupid. The bureaucracy of our everyday life is stupid, because it is not just teachers. It's everyone and everything. I don't even know whose approval we're seeking - some faceless government department? Just give me a job, a boss, and a paycheck.

Californians Again

I've made a few more observations on what it means to be a Californian. The day before I left, a friend's mom who grew up in the Southern California area told me that the people out here are overly concerned with outward appearance and how they stand in the eyes of others. More specifically, they wish to stand several feet above the eyes of others. The way I see it, this attitude can lead to two different ways of living: those who work really hard and overachieve, then rub their success in every one's face by owning unreasonably expensive cars, houses, boats, and children; and those who merely imitate those people and wish to project the image of success. I'll come back to this in a minute, but first let me note two quick quirks of the people out here.

First, people here will not cross the street unless told to do so, either by the little white walking man at street corners or by me. I include "by me" because I've literally had people ask me if it is OK to follow behind me as I cross the street, even though there is no chirping "Walk" sign. It's like the scene in Harold and Kumar where Harold just waits at the intersection even though there is no one around. I usually walk the mile or so to class and have to cross four intersections, and I have never seen someone look both ways and decide to cross - they simply wait until the man says they can. I told this to Tiffany, and a day later she overheard a pair of girls discussing whether or not to cross the street - they decided to just wait until the street post said they could.

Second, people here are much more technology and video game oriented than their peers in Georgia. I've seen people actually put in one ear bud in the middle of a conversation. There were three friends standing and talking to each other; two were fiddling with their cell phones and the other was using his cell phone and listening to an iPod. On break from class today, I sat at a table adjacent to a group of four, composed of a couple and two others. The couple was giggling, teasing, and totally engrossed in an activity together - a game on their cell phone. They were getting super pumped up, taking turns with it, comparing methods... for a cell phone game.

Now, with these two occurrences, I've come to the conclusion that many Californians, at least those in our age range, DO NOT THINK INDEPENDENTLY. Of course that doesn't apply to everyone, but the rate and level I've noticed are hugely different than in Georgia. I don't know if it is because of our proximity to the culture capital of the United States, but people here seem to follow the second path towards improving their social standing. They simply wear what they are told, listen to what they are told, and act how they are told. Everyone here has a designer something on, and brand names sewn onto any available inch of clothing. They imitate what they see on TV. They immerse themselves in technology because it allows them to avoid person-to-person interaction, in which they might have to prove their social superiority through other means that the label on their jeans, because this way is easier. Hair gel is everywhere. People buy clothes that come pre-ripped. Is there anything stupider? Spending loads of money on what is literally shoddy and broken merchandise? But people will do it because someone on TV or in music does it. Pretty soon they'll install speaker boxes at street corners with 50 Cent's voice saying "Cross that street now, bitches! It's my birthday! Buy my new album, The Return of the Studio Gangsta!"

But I can't hate these people too much, because they are all very friendly. Nobody told them not to be.

Rollin' With Heat

So yesterday, Super Bowl Sunday, we got our first taste of what the desert can really do. After rolling out of bed at the crack of 11, Tiffany and I decided that today was going to be super-productive, as compared to our normal productiveness of "brushing our teeth" and "drinking two pots of coffee". We unloaded the rest of Tiffany's stuff from her car (only took a week!), installed a curtain over the portal between the kitchen and the bathroom. This is important because the smoke detector is located right there, and after setting it off three times in one day and possibly giving the cat hearing damage we decided short of ripping the thing from the ceiling a swanky and functional hanging would do the trick. We then headed up the road two blocks and blasted the grime of 2,400 miles of America off our respective cars at a hoppin' coin-operated car wash. It could have been that it was Sunday, but every single booth was filled with at least two cars in line. And yes, the majority of them were pimped out Hyundais with some Mexican with a shaved head polishing his sweet baby-blue ride with the plastic spinners, blasting stereotypical Mexican musica with the accordion taking center stage and some mustachioed singer sweating and crying in equal amounts, caterwauling into the mic about his corazon running away with his favorite queso or some shit.

What I noticed while outdoors and washing our cars was how dehydrated I felt. I chalked it up to the flagon of wine and case of beers we drank last night, and resolved to drink many glasses of water soon. But ever after returning home and throwing back some H2-oh yeah, it occurred to me that it was HOT AS HADES out. I couldn't even stand on certain parts of the porch and it wasn't 2 p.m. yet. It was Feb. 4th and 87 degrees outside, drier than British comedy and sucking moisture directly out of my eyeballs. And people keep telling us that this is cold weather. Hooo, well at least it's a dry heat, right?

So about the Super Bowl: that game belonged to the Bears for about 13 seconds, and those were all when Devin Hester was doing what he does best - breaking other guys' ankles - on the opening kick off. I love this guy. He was smiling and watching himself on the big screen during the last twenty yards. He's a rookie! If he does nothing else but return kicks he'll still be remembered after he retires. Notice how the Colts never kicked to him again? At first they kicked to the opposite side of the field, but as they realized how god-awful the Bears offense was and began kicking it straight at the fattest guy, even if he was only 15 yards away, because they knew Rex Grossman would find some way to turn the ball over or just go three-and-out. And even though Grossman played for the Gators, I still would've liked to see the Manning face. I guess I'll just have to wait until Eli is playing again.