Why You Should Be Freaked Out By the Stars

SPACE. The Final Frontier.  A vast expanse of stars and mystery strewn across our miniscule vision, far past the reaches of our imaginations. A cold, seemingly lifeless void, stretching into infinity. A dark crevasse glaring into our souls, and us, gazing back in awe at the blackness as if facing the endless, judgmental, all-knowing vision of the hollow eyes of death itself.

Kinda neat, right?

Up to this point in history, the study of space has been the leading cause of the utterance “da fuh?” If taken in large doses, space may cause repetitive existential crises, loss of/lapses in faiths of all kinds, and confusion amongst blind people ("Wait, so it looks like what I see all the time? I don’t get it.") If administered to children, it may cause extreme boredom, blindness in those who don’t take instruction well (see warning label for "the sun"), and wedgies in those actually interested in it (similar effects seen due to interests in dinosaurs, reading, and musical theatre.) Ask a doctor, priest, or homeless UFO enthusiast/heroin addict if space is right for you.

Bottom line, space freaks us out. But often the reason why is misconstrued. Sure, scientists don’t know what’s out there, and as educated laymen, we can only speculate. But then again, we are also the species that believed putting hydrogen in blimps was a grand idea for a long time.

 

So maybe our speculation isn’t worth much.

It isn’t so much what we do not know about the form of space that knocks our helmets off. It’s big, dark, quiet, and lonely. Sort of like Michael Oher from the movie “The Blind Side.” What should really twist up our oxygen tubes is what space tells us about ourselves. For example, are we a self-made species, struggling to understand nature and develop our own technology and tools of survival? Or have we been assisted over the generations by something… unidentified?

Now stay with me here…

So maybe it’s a bit crazy, but let’s be honest, we all know they’re out there.

 

In 1561, in the dawning sunlight of a new day, the inhabitants of Nuremberg, Germany awoke to an enormous ruckus. In the light of the rising sun, massive cigar shaped metallic objects were hurling various other shapes at one another as smaller cross shaped things dodged in and out of the conflict. When one of the crosses, spheres, or cigars was struck, it would hurl into the earth and vanish in a plume of smoke. It was a battle of epic proportions, and no one had any clue what the hell it was they were watching. The picture above along with a description of the event was put in a broadsheet, which was basically a newspaper of the time. The battle persisted for hours, and was actually so easy to follow that the townsfolk could tell which side was winning. The struggle drifted further and further from the Earth until one side attempted to flee, and the other pursued, driving the anomaly towards the sun.

Ok, so it is questionable WHAT exactly happened, because obviously the 16^th century German people interpreted this battle as an event of religious significance. It's just the way things were back then. That would explain the religious iconography with the crosses and the lights, which today we might more readily compare to a fuselage with wings and firearms. But something definitely happened. What does that mean for us?

The Ancient Egyptians cut stone blocks with precision we WISH we could accomplish today. So what?

The Incas developed perfectly aerodynamic flying machine models and buried them with their kings encrypted with the words “I want to fly.” Alright.

Hundreds of paintings and testimonies from the Renaissance and Middle Ages contain stories and images about beings in flying machines, most of which look the same. Who cares?

Justin Beiber’s music is still popular.

If you can believe that one, you can believe the rest.

What I am getting at is this: there is a whole lot of evidence pushing sideways at what we believe to be true because we have opted for the information that makes US the center of everything. We’ve done it for thousands of years. Earth is the center of the universe, WE were created to rule, God is our father, the universe is our oyster, and if there is anything else out there, they must be allergic to shellfish. Us, us, us. We, we, we. Nothing else matters.

If we admit there is something else out there, it means we might not be the best, the most important, or designed for any purpose. And maybe if we were designed with a purpose, maybe it isn't the one we would like to believe in. Just a bit more dust floating through space with the rest of the dust. We have survived and thrived based off the idea that we are bigger than we really are, and we are afraid that shooting lower would be an insult to what “we can be.”

I don’t want that responsibility, and I’m not sure anyone else really does. So I say, screw it. Let the aliens be in charge, because whether it’s God, a flying spaghetti monster, or Liam Neeson that is calling the shots, the only universe I am important in is the one in my head. So yeah, space scares me, and I think it should scare everyone. But when it comes down to the existential wire, I don’t die, the world ends. The things I do, the people I love, and my longstanding effects will peter out eventually, so for now, my lifelong fulfillment and that of others is my focus. Let's revel in our minuteness, because it isn't about to change.

So why is MY universe so great and worth living in?

 

The Odenternet

I suppose the thing I appreciate the most about my presence on the internet is my authenticity. By being relatively strict about what I put out on the internet, my own personality seems to shine through instead of some manufactured E-Keenan. Granted, I do not have any enemies creating fake Facebook accounts, photo shopping me onto nude photos of Oprah, or blogging nonsense about my pregnancy status. I mention these only because I realize those who become well-established on the net tend to create friends and enemies alike with their networking superpower. They are exposed to scrutiny constantly. Divulging free information about oneself can get out of hand quickly. Thankfully my Mother had a neurotic fear of our e-dentity being e-hijacked by e-bandits when I was an e-baby (that is, roughly, 12 years of age). So, if you see anything about me on the internet, it is there because either I put it there, or gave someone permission to post it.

            This all being said, as I look over my various posts I realize I have actually put work out. There are credits to my name that I am proud of that were worthy to be placed on the world’s largest information sharing system. These consist primarily of information from websites such as milesplit and athletic.net, which show my times and accomplishments in Track and Cross Country, as well as my theatrical work on the pages of various newspapers and review websites. I know that these forums say only good things about me, and I am glad they found their way onto the internet.

However, this remains horribly underwhelming to me. Why? Because of ol’ Uncle Bob.

It seems like a silly thing to complain about, but peppered in with my accomplishments are those of my professional actor, writer, comedian, and overall superman of an uncle who has roughly 25 years of headway on me in terms of work worth viewing. I don’t actually mind this, but it made this assignment a little complicated to complete, because right next to the link to my Facebook account is a link to an article regarding Maynard James Keenan’s documentary about making wine. My Uncle makes some weird stuff.

            So what does this do to me? I have been driven by nothing but fear when it comes to the internet by my Mother who, God love her, was always badgering us to be careful about what we would say or do on the web. Even after ensuring her of the security of the websites and using bulletproof rhetoric like “all my friends have a Facebook,” she wouldn’t budge for many years. I know this is a rational fear, but it’s like driving a car. If you don’t do it because it’s dangerous, you’ll never leave your house. And let’s be honest, the world really is just squished down into the internet.

            I hope that someday my e-dentity won’t just be heaped in with that of e-Bob. Then again, as of right now, I cannot really say my e-dentity has any real life effects on me. Certainly not in any negative way I can think of. But as I continue to make these blog posts and create work that is worthy of viewing by the citizens of the internet, I realize there may be a new version of me emerging. I realize the sharing power of the internet, and the importance of being a good participant in it. Regardless of who I appear to be on the internet, I realize it is informed heavily by who I am in reality, and it is that person who deserves the most of my attention. For now.

The Five Faces of a Guy Who Was Born With Five Faces and He Doesn't Like It When People Mention It So Please Stop

My fellow Americans,

I could not, contrary to the instruction of the assignment, find one form of media or literature that I partake of that displays any more signs of oppression than any other. We have hit what can only be referred to as cultural rock bottom. I am convinced that most books, magazine articles, DVD’s, smoke signals, home videos, candy wrappers, or songs written by anyone other than Randy Newman (praise be his name) here in America are rife with racism, sexism, ignorance, bias, and somehow, ironically enough, communism.

Figure that one out.

But, I think we own it pretty well. And by that I of course mean we ignore it utterly and completely and hope it goes away.

Tragically, as much as I mourn this unfortunate set of circumstances, I still wake up every day. In America. As an American. And what helps me sift through the madness with an upturned chin? Well, comedy. Possibly the worst offender.

Comedy takes all of the stuff that it is scary for us to address and throws them out in the open for everyone to see. Typically this is considered hideously inappropriate by those who are said to “not have a sense of humor.” They cannot take a joke. They’re buzzkills. Curmudgeons. Sourpusses. Malcontents. And perhaps worst of all they are completely, utterly justified.

Comedy makes a mockery of our worst situations. It brings them up unceremoniously and suddenly, typically with a force so direct that you laugh purely because you’re taken unawares and shocked that the comedian, sketch, or TV show would “go there.” So, is this oppression in the sense that Young articulated in ‘The Five Faces of Oppression”? At first glance, it can seem like it is completely intentional and therefore not simply the byproduct of some classic cultural construction. A hallmark of Young’s ideas is the ignorance towards the oppression by the oppressors. However, I would argue it falls in a grey area.

People write and perform comedy for plenty of different reasons. They are quite diverse, so I will not list them here. However, the least common one that spawns any comedy we actually see is comedy that attacks. Sure, there’s some that brings up an issue and has bias, but very rarely is it designed to truly ream one camp or the other. In fact, it is quite widely accepted that the best comedy sprouts from a mockery being made of both sides of an issue simultaneously. In the end, I think it makes a lot of sense that truly excluding or damaging any one group from a joke will earn you less laughs, and that, ultimately, is what any comic wants.

Does that mean no one gets their feelings hurt? Of course not!

Someone will always be just a little too touchy. Not educated enough, not in the right mood, not in the right situation, or even just plain hungry. God knows I don’t find anything funny when I’m hungry. But the point is, when you’re manipulating the content that many writers from all disciplines (comedy or no) are dealing with, you will receive pressure from all sides.

So, is the oppression intentional? I say no. However, what makes comedy a grey area is its self-awareness. Namely, the writers’ knowledge that they will unintentionally “oppress” someone. That creates a new question: why bother? The answer is what inspires my fascination with it.

When we engage in comedy that deals with hot button issues (Ferguson, legalization of marijuana, gay marriage, the color/style of Justin Beiber’s new haircut, etc.) we enter the discussion through a very a unique outlet. Comedy is one of the only forms of writing that people prepare themselves for true contemplation. This is because they are promised an immediate and gratifying sensory reward, one of the few things left that truly motivates people to do anything. In order to understand a joke, you have to do some thinking. The better the joke, the simpler it is, but in the end we understand and accept intrinsically that we must engage in some actual thought to earn the payoff of laughter. So, when you do this with fart jokes, humanity doesn’t really get anywhere. When you do this with our shortcomings as human beings, than you’re getting the world involved in itself.

Everyone engages in some form of comedy. Poor, rich, old, young, the diabetic, paraplegic, and obnoxious. We all get it from somewhere, and when we do, we think. That is the bottom line.

So, I believe comedy is both the most innocent and the most egregious oppressor of them all. It upholds all that we hold to be evil and damaging in this world by virtue of its own need for content. However, if it didn’t, I wouldn’t want to imagine where we would be.

Slow Your Roll Holden

I've got more beef with Holden than a cattle slaughterhouse.
I've got more beef with Holden than Arnold Schwarzenegger's biceps.
Remember the old lady from those Wendy's commercials who would say "Where's the beef?"
I will tell you where it is. Here. Now. Between me. And Holden. It's not what's for dinner, it's what's for this blog post.
But to the meat of the argument. I was initially pleased with the character of Holden in Susan Glaspell's The Inheritors, as I believe most readers were. He seems to be the only other character in the play besides Madeline and the ever-absent Fred who  thinks differently, progressively, and by our standards here in Futureland, more reasonably than the other nationalist characteristics. However, while Madeline and Fred sit on the hot seat of society being accused of anti-government sentiments and facing serious repercussions for their thoughts and actions (Fred already has), Holden seems to be sitting pretty in his well-respected and comfortable Professor's chair.
As we learn more about Holden and his past, he begins to seem more and more of a disappointment. He harbors those passionate, convicted ideals of a man who cares for all people and is frustrated with the direction his country is headed. But he comes across as very unenthusiastic in his actions, or rather non-actions, to communicate his disappointment. Unlike Madeline and Fred, he appears to be a very weak revolutionary (if we can call them that this early in what will someday become a revolution across the U.S. giving us our modern values.)
The guy only says what he thinks when asked. He's a chump. An enabler. Glaspell dangled a character of influence capable of assisting Madeline and Fred in front of her audience's faces and BOOM. Turns out he's as effective as Horace when it comes to moving America and Morton College towards a better, brighter, more inclusive future. Great. Thanks Sue.
There's some 100% grass fed, Kobe-quality beef.
The nail in the coffin was of course when I read the stage direction in the fourth act as Holden enters. He "looks older." He doesn't even like what he's become! He has sat in silence and stewed in his own fear for years practically working for the ideals he despises. Sure, the Senator wants him fired because he communicated some mild discomfort with the treatment of one of his students in prison, but I'd hardly say that's an active role in communicating his ideals.
And I mean his wife must be so.... Oh, right, his wife... That is a thing isn't it?...
I concede that one of the most important qualities of being an American is grappling your own responsibility before taking on that of the World. Holden recognizes his limitation, and while Madeline and Fred have the youthful spryness and openness of future to shout their beliefs to the heavens, he has people to take care of.
Holden's situation ultimately showed me more about Madeline and Fred than I had thought he would. Regardless of whose values are more reasonable, I think it makes sense to say that the youngsters  don't know their values. They can pick and choose as they develop their beliefs, but ultimately the part of their lives they are in prompts exploration and risk taking. There are no people other than your young self to get hurt, and you feel invincible.
Holden was undoubtedly the same, but he chose not to be the eternal-antagonist. There just were not opportunities for him to make a difference, and in time, he chose his own happiness and the health of those he loved over the possibility of seeing his ideals come to light.
We tend to think big until we turn inwards and see how small we are. That's what Holden showed me, and what he tries to show Madeline. She may be opening doors for society a crack, but in one moment she will close every other door for herself. Holden managed to give dignity to his smallness. He showed how sacrificing oneself for a belief is far more selfish than giving all that you can to the world and the ones you love before kicking the bucket.
Beef cooked, stewed, seasoned, eaten, and tastes like humble-pie.

7 Totally Great (And Totally Non-Sarcastic) Ways to be the Life of the Party!

Parties. A true American testament to class and sophistication, especially in colleges. With the combination of music, laughter, and general tomfoolery all hitting you at once, it can be difficult to know how to navigate the vibrant landscape you’ll find yourself in at any good old-fashioned get-together. So, I have compiled a list of some of the most effective ways of portraying an easy-going and confident personality at any shindig, from the alcohol-drenched pseudo-riots of Arizona State University to the okay-that-was-alright-but-its-10-so-I-should-be-heading-home parties of Augustana College. These techniques will definitely make any Average Joe a memorable personality at any party. Believe me, people will remember you if you do this stuff…. In a good way! And that’s not sarcastic! Enjoy.

1.) Show up egregiously early!

Most hosts will be extremely nervous as the countdown to party-time begins. It can be nerve-racking waiting for the guests and wondering if your party will be perfect. That's why it's good to arrive extra early to show your host how excited you are! You'll want to shoot for an hour to two hours before the official party start-time for optimum results. Also, make sure you don't help the host set up for the event in any way. You wouldn't want to insult their hosting skills! That would be rude! Remember, showing up on time is considerate, but showing up two hours early is what real friends do!

And never too early to be an enthusiastic party goer!

2.) Wait for conversations to approach you!

As the party gets going, you're already in your host's good graces after the two hours spent silently watching them prepare their house for the party. Now that the music is bumping and people have arrived, it's time to start socializing! You're going to want to begin by being proactive, so start up a conversation. Not with anyone at the party, of course, but rather with someone on your phone. I've found a grandparent or distant friend from middle-school work best. Grandparents are bad at texting and someone from deep in your past will be so confused as to why you're texting them that you can really drag out a conversation. Now you post up in a corner, make no eye contact with anyone, and moodily text your heart out!  Watch as people crawl over each other to talk to you because it is only logical that everyone would naturally have some sort of irrational investment in you and your text-message! Make sure to make periodic trips to the bathroom to fix your hair and/or makeup so as to look good when those people inevitably decide to approach you.

If I stare into the distance longingly enough, someone has to come talk to me... Right?

3.) DO NOT dance!

This really shouldn't even be an issue if you stick with our "text on the wall and glare at people" technique, but it can be tempting. The thrum of the music. The smiles. The laughter. The freedom. You'll feel like maybe it would be scary, yet totally liberating to just throw yourself out there on the dance floor and DANCE! Right?! Wrong. You'll look like a dork and people won't want to talk to you. Every inhibition you've ever had about dancing is correct and should be followed. That will show everyone your true self-esteem! If you really can't help yourself, settle for bouncing up and down slightly as you continue your invigorating text conversation with your grandfather about the medical benefits of prune juice.

Look how low this man's self-confidence is. It's sad.

4.) Drink like a fish!

Not all parties you go to will feature alcohol, but for the ones that do, nothing is more attractive than a person who can slam liquor as fast and in as large of quantities as is humanly drinkable! Awkward you may be, but nothing a gallon or two of the hard stuff can't fix! Be careful though, if you don't drink enough, people will assume you're a wimp, and remember, there is literally nothing more important in this universe than what other people think of you! So, it's usually safest to just start chugging whatever is in reach as fast as possible. Don't get discouraged if you vomit. It's just nerves, and the only way to overcome those is to keep drinking!

The face... Of a champion.

5.) Break a piece of furniture!

While usually following after the technique described in non-sarcastic-piece-of-advice 4, this brilliant people-pleaser can actually be done completely sober. In fact, party guests will like it even more when it is clear that you are within your wits when shamelessly smashing any (preferably expensive-looking) piece of furniture or decoration in the host's home! You might be thinking "but wait , wouldn't that make my host mad at ME?" Of course not! A show is a show, and it's pretty easy to assume that your host can find an armoire from 1887 at any goodwill. How hard can they be to find? They'll ultimately thank you for making their party more interesting with a Colosseum-like show of aggression and violence, and clearing some space in their living room for more rambunctious party shenanigans!

Look how fun and not awkward this is!

6.) Volunteer to be DJ!

After gaining some serious party-cred by remodeling the kitchen with your fists and drinking ALL of the alcohol, it is time to become directly involved in the most crucial ingredient for a good party: the music. Now, people will be apprehensive to let you near the speakers at first, but that one time you operated the Ipod at that party in high school is most certainly enough experience to successfully DJ any party! Make sure to be assertive. If the actual DJ (professional or not) proves an obstacle, just garble some incoherent drunk-person gibberish at him/her. That will disorient them long enough for you to grab the headphones and throw down some tunes! Be sure to include a five minute space of silence between each song so the dancers can rest, and classical music tends to be most popular for good dancing. Repeating songs between five and twelve times is also standard. People love that!

If you're doing things right, the dancing should look like this! Keep as many lights on as possible!

7.) Refuse to safely crash at your friend's place!

As the night winds down, it is time for you to head home. After your righteous crusade to create the most epic party of all time for your host, the least you can do is refuse any and all requests for you to safely crash at the party house instead of trying to stumble home. Do not let their logic fool you, it is all just a formality, and it would be rude for you to impose! So make as many attempts to blindly stumble/roll out of the door saying things like "Sober completely I am" or "I swear, drunk, I'm not Dave." Be careful not to let them take your car keys! There's no way of knowing where they'll end up, and besides that, how're you going to drive home without your keys? As long as you continue to try to leave in any way possible, you'll cause your host quite a bit less anxiety knowing that they don't have to worry about you. Heck, it's only twelve miles! What could go wrong?

Who put this house in the middle of the street? That architect must have been pretty drunk!

So, if you follow all of these simple and totally non-sarcastic pieces of advice, you will quickly become the most popular party-goer ever! People will consistently invite you because a good time is ensured, and totally not an awkward, alcohol-fueled rampage! Good luck out there partyers!

;)

Visuals from:
Reddit.com (crashed car)
Playbuzz.com (Pride and Prejudice dance pic)
Twitter.com (The Office ice cream pic)
Gettyimages.com (man leaning against wall)
Genius.com (Dancing guy)
Paperblog.fr (Man with hammer)
Nbcbayarea.com (Drunk guy pic)

It's a bird. It's a plane. No, it's an Argument.

OOOOOOKAY. Now that is an argument if I have ever seen one. Glaring and confrontational if you ask me. Who exactly does this coffee mug think it is? Let's find out.

You know what really trims my hedges? Gardeners. Also, the fact that The Brew, our lovely on-campus extension of the generation-owning, street-corner-monopolizing, bookstore-saving arm of capitalism Starbucks Coffee, is arguably not actually by the Slough. There, I said it. Is it irrational for this to bother me? I'd rather not think about that, so let's move on.

The whole concept does make a decent amount of sense. We're college students, and if you can wake up, go to class, get some decent grades and still have the pep to attack that homework before bedtime all without the aid of God's brown battery acid, more power to you. But for those of us who need/enjoy the stuff, there is some issue that can be taken with the java being identifiable with the Slough.

No doubt the argument is that coffee-drinkers, if given the choice, would buy coffee that could then be calmly sipped in solitude by a pleasant natural environment. Truly, there are few greater joys than grabbing a cup o' joe with a friend or colleague and taking a stroll down the slough path, taking in the plants, the animals, and the off-putting realization that the water is the same color as your mocha latte. The scenery has been known to really incite some interesting discussion and questions. Is there an afterlife? What is humanity's purpose? Did I just see a mutant fish with arms drag a raccoon into
the water? You know, questions we all ask ourselves when looking at the Slough.

The advertising mentality of the name does fall short in this respect. Like most arguments, it is prone to failure under certain conditions, namely the Slough's stagnant nature and in the dead of Winter when it is more frozen than Keanu Reeves' face. People will be more likely to buy coffee if they are baited with a comfortable, inspiring environment, but the Slough just isn't always that place. It is
utterly dependent on the situation.

That all being said, "A Coffee Shop" is not a particularly enticing name either. So all in all, I'm glad Augustana made the attempt to develop a suitable name no matter how effective it is.
Think about this the next time you catch a whiff of that coffee. Or the Slough for that matter.
End tirade. Thoughts, comments, musings, and expletives welcome. Cheers.