Category - Rants

It's been a tough question deciding when I actually started to blog. I consider today, August 4, the anniversary of the day I began blogging. I had been posting about updates to the site since it began in April 2003, and in July I asked "To blog or not to blog?" and answered in the negative. But in the next post I declared that "I've decided I'm going to go ahead with it anyway. Soon." The post after that, on August 4, 2003, wasn't really different from the others, but in it I did refer to the site as "a blog-type thing." So there you go. August 4, 2003.

You surely have heard about that recently-unveiled Japanese robot that looks oh-so realistic. According to that article, one of the scientists who made it "says one day robots could fool us into believing they are human."

Oh, those androids. They will improve our lives, the scientists say. They will do the things we don't want to do ourselves, like... make a sandwich. Or... change the channel when the remote's broken. We'll live happily ever after. Right?

We can't go wasting our time making robots. Eventually, as this guy says, robots will be so realistic that we'll be hard-pressed to tell them from real humans. And then what? Then we'll have sacks of sprockets running around masquerading as actual people. What if you take a robot home from the bar? What if a robot runs for President? Don't we have enough people already?

Worst of all, with more realistic robots come smarter robots. The robots of ten years ago can hardly compare to today's android. Imagine how intelligent robots will be in 2015. And 2025. And 2035. Eventually, we're going to make them smarter than ourselves, or at least able to become so.

What I'm getting at here is that by wasting our time with this robot stuff, we're basically planning the demise of humankind. Eventually the robots will take over, kill us all, and multiply. And I can't be the only one who believes this.

What part of Ask Jordon don't you understand?

Tom: My new house in Buffalo is almost done being built and we need help moving. Can I count you in?

Umm... sure. As long as you let me live in the basement. That would be fun. We don't have them here. Four cool points to basements.

debbie: what is the name of the airport in jordon

What do you think Ask Jordon is? Do you think you're asking questions to an entire Middle Eastern country? Why don't you just Google it? I'm sure there's more than one airport in the nation of Jordan, anyway.

Years ago, I remember watching "Figure It Out," a sort of game show where panelists had to guess a person's talent by receiving various clues. One boy that I particularly remember was able to give the day of the week for any given date. I always wondered how he did that.

Then I found this site with a mathematical formula for determining the day of the week for a given Gregorian date. Last month, when I first found the site, I just barely managed to succeed in memorizing the formula. (Hey, I needed something to do while we were waiting in line for Dueling Dragons.) I also wrote a computer program that uses it. But I'll have to re-commit the formula to memory and practice my mental math, because it sure is a killer party trick.

On this day in 1989, I was born.

You know, I usually say that I don't care much about my birthday, but it's actually kind of nice that people care about you for a day. I think everybody should celebrate their birthday. Those who don't will have no suitable outlet for their egos.

I'd like to take this opportunity to wish my "evil twin" Eric a happy birthday as well.

How will I spend my birthday? I'm going to my grandmother's house for dinner, where we'll have roast beef -- mmm, my favorite* -- among other things.

So, I'm actually 16. Sixteen years old. That means if I had gotten my learner's permit a year ago, I could get my driver's license now. I could. If I had. But you know what? I don't want or need to drive car. Not at this point. I have nowhere to go. There's no point in wasting my time. So what if all my friends can drive? I could always take the bus, maybe*. At the very least, I need to get some form of ID. That way people will know I exist and that I'm not an alien from outer space or something.

I'm 16, and I've never been on a freaking date. People enter a state of awe if they can pry this fact out of me, making me all sorts of promises that "someone will come along." I don't know why they're so surprised. Surely with my charm*, money*, wit, and chin*, someone should at the least find me more than just "a nice guy." But you know what? I don't want or... wait, that doesn't work. I need it.

Well, that's enough self-deprecating for one day. I'm outta here.

*not

Hey, happy Fourth of July (Independence Day). On this day in 1776, the United States officially declared independence from Great Britain. We celebrate this day with fireworks, barbecues, parades, picnics, and going to the beach (if one happens to be handy). To avoid sounding even more like a cheesy informational video, I'll just throw out some relevant links.

So what does the President do on the Fourth of July? Find out.

Download an MP3 or WMA of the national anthem, "The Star-Spangled Banner," performed masterfully by the Penfield Symphony Orchestra of Penfield, New York.

I think "The Star-Spangled Banner" is best left to orchestras, as it is notoriously difficult to sing, covering an octave-and-a-half range. Not to mention that the latest trend is to inject "soul" into the 19th-century ballad. At a baseball game or whatever, instead of ending the way it should:

You're more likely to hear it sung like this:

That right there is perhaps the most compelling argument to get the national anthem changed. No one wants to sing it straight anymore. Does any other country butcher its national anthem so?

Last year and the year before, I spent the Fourth of July at my great-aunt's condo. On the penthouse floor (and, the first year, on the roof) we could see fireworks shows all around (except in the direction of the ocean, of course). I think I counted at least 10 to 15 going on at once. It was truly spectacular.

Anyway, this is my first Fourth at home in several years. Some relatives are coming over tonight and we're having a barbecue. There should be plenty of fireworks, because people started shooting them off a few nights ago.

Ah, cell phones! I bet you can't live without yours. But you know what? I can.

What's my secret, you ask. Well, I'll tell you. It's because my parents won't let me have one.

Why? I don't know, it's a mystery. But they each have their own. They say I could have one if I paid for it myself, but I'm broke. I guess if I could, I would have one now.

The truth is, I have never had a cell phone and they don't interest me terribly much. But a cell phone is a status symbol. The rich people have fancy ones, the middle-class people have all the others (and that's about the extent of it).

But it's all so complicated. When buying a cell phone and the associated service, there are so many options to choose from. Camera? A must for many, but why me? I have a real camera that does a better job. Games? Who needs them? And what about voice recognition? Text messaging? Video phone? Flip phone? What about plans? We're talking minutes, coverage areas, roaming, whatever. Oy!

I thought about getting a "pay-as-you-go" cell phone, which might be a good idea if I had more money. I think it's good for people who don't talk much. Sure, it's probably more expensive per minute. (I think it might even be cheaper to find a payphone.) And then there's the phone itself. It doesn't have to be expensive, it pretty much just has to function as a telephone. I think overall it would be a good idea.

Hey, my birthday is coming up. Just thought I'd mention that. Yep.

I guarantee you that sometime before the end of the decade someone will just assume I have a cell phone and ask me what my number is. What will I say? Sorry, I don't have one because I'm a conscientious objector? Maybe they'll think I believe that cell phones, like radios and dancing, are the Devil.

If you don't remember All Your Base Are Belong to Us, this will make no sense to you. It's the infamous Zero Wing intro sequence set to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." I present to you the All Your Base Rhapsody (Flash with sound, obviously).

So I can kind of relax while I'm on vacation, I had Todd from the one and only chewbonkers.com take the reins for today's post. I will return on Saturday, June 25.

My Share of Rants:
Astrology books. Bought one today, and I regret it. Not only do they blab nonsense all over the place, they repeat it. That's right, repeat it.

"Leo's have a great sense of humour and are very theatrical."

"Capricorn's are most liked for their great amount of humour and are always basking in the spotlight."
___________________
My Share of Links:
Hey, think twice before you make that Windows XP password. They can be bypassed.

Hey, and you can check out too how Windows has sucked before now!

Do you want to live at this hotel?
___________________
My Share of Life:
I have decided that I need to be more flexible, strong, and more energetic. I had already tried to do my "FBI health checklist", but I need to move it up a notch. I've decided that I'm going to skip, run, bike, stretch, situp, pushup, and dumbell lift for 40 minutes each day together. Now that better work.
___________________
How to make people think you're busy and famous online when you're not:

1) Take a couple weeks to respond to emails
2) State on your site that you get hundreds and hundreds of emails a day and it may take awhile to reply.
3) Make strict requirements about the content of the email and say that if they don't follow them, the people who sort your mail will delete them.
4) On instant messages, don't give instant replies. Wait a few minutes, then say you were busy with many other messages.
5) Say you require email notification that they are adding you on an instant messenger, or you will be screened out.
6) Say comments are closed for some posts because it is a 'controversial' post, and your many visitors may get outraged.
7) Have a forum on your site.
8) Have auto repliers for your email, saying that you have received it, and "please don't send it again."
9) Have an elaborate FAQ section and tell people to read it first before they email you.
10) Say your IP sometimes crashes you have so many instant messages, so please hold back your excitement.
11) Post model like pictures of you and say autographs by snailmail are still available.

Have fun. Hope you enjoyed my post.

As part of the never-ending saga of choosing next year's classes, the other day I made my course selections. Yesterday, it was. I mentioned before that the class-picking system is all computerized now. So what they did was they took us into one of the rooms with computers and had us log into the school district's web site and pick our classes. Yes, that was something I could have done at home. But did I know that? Not really.

So here I was. I had to make the decision of which AP class to take. I stuck to my guns (not literally) and went with AP Psychology, rather than AP European History, in spite of the chiding from my classmates and teacher. This, you see, is my ideal schedule: the one I want!

1. Chemistry Honors
2. Pre-Calculus Honors
3. Spanish III Honors
4. English III Honors
5. Business Computer Programming II
6. American History Honors
7. AP Psychology

I noticed when I had originally logged in that my geometry teacher from last semester had recommended me for AP Calculus AB (don't know what those extra letters stand for). Having had a teacher's official recommendation (via the computer system), I had no choice but to select this class. Also my history teacher recommended me for AP American History, which, with specific instructions to administration, would later be changed to AP European History because the computer system wouldn't accept the latter's course number. You and I and she know(s) that I don't want to take that class.

And due to the computer system being dumb, I had to pick eight classes, even though AP Psychology would count for two and thus would fill two slots. So I had to put some garbagey class in that extra space with hopes that it'd get crowded out. I chose Journalism I (newspaper, as opposed to yearbook).

So this was the horrendous schedule I had to submit. (Cue the blood-curling shriek.)

1. Chemistry Honors
2. AP Calculus AB
3. Spanish III Honors
4. English III Honors
5. Business Computer Programming II
6. AP American History
7. AP Psychology
8. Journalism I (Newspaper)

AAAAaAaaAAaaaaahhhhh!!!!! That's not what I want. So yesterday I went to my geometry teacher and asked her to change her course recommendation. She had said that it was automatic; that a computer determined what my next math class should be. I watched as she changed the recommendation to Pre-Cal Honors, and I was relieved.

Oh, but it gets better worse. Because when I logged in to the school board's site today, I got this message:

"YOUR COURSE REQUESTS HAVE BEEN APPROVED BY YOUR GUIDANCE COUNSELOR."

And then this, as if to pour salt on the wound:

"IF YOU NEED TO MAKE A CHANGE TO YOUR COURSE REQUESTS PLEASE SEE YOUR GUIDANCE COUNSELOR."

Yes I need to, computer bub! AP Calculus, it turns out, wasn't changed at all! And the thing is, the guidance counselors do anything but give you guidance. I have never had them help me once. If I took my case to them, they'd probably just say "Well, I think you can manage taking three AP classes if you put your mind to it. You're a very bright student. Why, T.J. Swannick* here is taking eleven." They wouldn't give me any sort of guidance at all. I know what I want: I want the schedule that I want, and that's that.

I guess I'll have to talk to them, though. I'm pretty sure I know who my guidance counselor is. She'll probably say, "Oh, sorry, you can't change your classes, but I think you can manage taking..." I'll try to get my point across, though. The sooner I do this, the better. I just don't know how to get in touch with my guidance counselor.

In any case, I'd better straighten out my severely screwed-up schedule or I'll probably end up doing something rash. Maybe some Ask Jordon will calm me down.

louise : i have a 16hh mare thoroughbred shes lovely nature, brilliant in every way all she needs is somone who will bring her on(schooling) are you interested

Are you kidding? You're talking about a horse, right? I'm no country-boy. I've only even ridden a horse once.

Nathaniel: Jordon what blog software can I use to auto post while I am on vacation like PLAPS?

Some of them allow you to edit the timestamp on the post so that it shows up later. I know WordPress does.

donald bezance: Was Ivy Baker Priest Ex United States Treasurer Born in Middlesbrough [England uk]

Apparently not. According to various sources, she was born in Kimberly, Utah (USA), on September 7, 1905.

Anyone who's used Netscape/Mozilla/Firefox knows about the famous "Book of Mozilla" egg hidden in these browsers. (If you don't, well, read about it). Here are some extracts from the Book of Mozilla, consisting mostly of unofficial passages in the fictitious Revelation-esque book. The three "official" verses (found in the aforementioned browsers) subtly snub Netscape/Mozilla's main competition, Microsoft Internet Explorer. Take this one, which can be found in Netscape 7.2 and above, Mozilla 1.5 and above, and all versions of Firefox:

Unofficial verses aren't as delicately crafted. Take this unnumbered verse:

By the way, if you have Netscape, Mozilla, or Mozilla Firefox, just enter "about:mozilla" (no quotes!) in the location bar to see the Book of Mozilla egg.

* A real person. Never heard of him, but he's supposed to be ranked #1 in the class.

Well, the school year is almost over, and you know what that means (or maybe you don't): it's time to pick next year's classes. I was particularly stressed last year over choosing an elective. But as I advance in school, there are more options for me, so now I get to be stressed out about everything! They've changed they way you choose your next classes, though. Last year they gave you the list of courses, you checked the ones you wanted (or had) to take, and you went around to your current and former teachers for each subject (we're on the semester system) for them to initial their approval of your next class in that subject.

This year, the teachers do the recommending online (through the school district's "Virtual Counselor" system), and they beat you to the punch (yesterday when I logged in, I was able to read my suggestions). I guess when we actually meet with our guidance counselors to officially pick our classes, we'll be allowed to pick a less advanced class than the teacher's recommendation. I hope so, anyway, because I'm being recommended for three Advanced Placement (AP) classes, and you can really only take one per year if you don't want your head to explode into thousands of little chunks.

My history teacher wants me in her AP European History class and has recommended me for it. NO!!!!!! I WILL NEVER, NEVER EVER HAVE A CLASS WITH HER AGAIN!!!!!!!! My geometry teacher from last semester has recommended me for AP Calculus. Methinks it would be a good idea to take pre-calculus first. My Algebra II teacher this semester has recommended me for an AP math class, but gave no specifics. And my psychology teacher from last semester wants me in his AP Psychology class, but gave no recommendation -- probably because there are only eight recommendation slots and two are filled by math classes and another two have history classes (AP American History because AP Euro is not currently taught, and the system's default suggestion of World History Honors -- a class I'm taking right now).

Anyway, the big question here -- besides my elective(s)... jeesh -- is what AP class I'm going to take. I'm going to have to take one, because if I don't, people will be ask why didn't I take an AP class and I'll have to say to them that well, I just didn't want to, and they'll say, man, you really should, because colleges like that sort of thing and ow, stop punching me in the face!

If I hear one more word about what colleges like and don't like, that's what'll happen to the nearest bystander. The colleges can't like students who take AP classes; they count for college credit, and so every AP class you take is a few thousand dollars less for them. I'm convinced that it doesn't matter whether or not you go to college. Unless your daddy's rich, your going to end up poor either way. Don't go to college and you won't get a good job. Go to college and you might get a good job, but at a fantastic expense that you'll be paying off for much of your adult life. If you seem to have more money because you went to college, it's an illusion.

I really, really, really, really, really need to decide what classes to take by next week (for that is the deadline). This is very important. My next year, the junior year, is the last one colleges will look at when -- ouch! Now, in your best British accent, say with me: "He needs to sor' ou' his priorities."

Ask Jordon all night long...

Ryan: The Simpsons or Family guy?

Well, I like both.

sweet pea: how much is 4 drachma

Nothing. The Greek drachma has been replaced by the euro and ceased to be legal tender in 2002. Drachma coins could still be exchanged for euros at a fixed rate until 2004.

Only in America: Teacher pulls chair from under student who refuses to stand for the national anthem. The teacher had had a history of such activity, so another student in anticipation secretly videotapes the whole thing. Result? The student operating the camera gets suspended for 10 days. And that's it.

The claim was that the teacher's constitutional rights were violated when he was filmed without his own permission. Why are your rights only violated when you get caught doing something incriminating? I have a good mind to file a breach of privacy lawsuit for being videotaped in every classroom, corridor, and cranny in my school.

A reader of that article pointed to a state law stating that students have to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. But no mention was made of the national anthem.

By the way, watch the video linked from the article and see the whole incident for yourself.

Some more records I bought a few days ago arrived in the mail today. If the store were better I'd tell you the name of it, but for now it's Name Withheld Records, Anytown, USA. One of these things is not like the others:

• The Animals - "House of the Rising Sun" b/w "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" (gray vinyl)
• The Chiffons - "One Fine Day" b/w "Sweet Talkin' Guy"
• The Gin Blossoms - "Follow You Down" (Edit) b/w "Till I Hear It from You" (LP Version)
• The McCoys - "Hang on Sloopy" b/w "Fever"
• The Righteous Brothers - "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" b/w "(You're My) Soul and Inspiration"
• The Righteous Brothers - "Unchained Melody" b/w "You're My Soul and Inspiration"
• The Weavers - "Goodnight Irene" b/w "On Top of Old Smoky"

(I had ordered several more, but it turns out they were not in stock, so all the ones I got were by groups with names starting with "the.")

I sincerely wish that I would stick to, say, one genre of music. You have no idea how humiliating it is to buy these stupid songs on this stupid format. These are, for the most part, old people songs. "Goodnight Irene" originally came out on 78. Three and a half cool points to any other teenager who can identify what that is (was). I can't listen to this garbage. I'm supposed to fit into a mold. There are plenty available: one for each sub-sub-subgenre of rock music.

The other day I heard a song on the radio. The DJ said it was by Stone Temple Pilots, "who put the guitar rock back into '90s post-grunge." Whaa? It confuses me so. I was once asked about my opinion on punk rock. "It's dead, and besides, only the British could do it, right?" I was asked. Ummm, sure? What do I know? I was living a lie with that person; or, rather, he perceived me wrongly. As a guitarist and a fan(atic) of the Beatles, he assumed me to appreciate Beatles-and-after, whereas I actually live in Beatles-and-before, which is not how real guitarists come.

I've tried listening to some stuff, but nothing really moves me. Ska (the new kind) doesn't exactly do it for me. Heavy metal, soft metal, light metal, rusty metal -- no. I don't even know what other styles there are. Emo -- well, indie is the new emo, I've been told. Indie is weiRd with a capital R. Some of that stuff (Postal Service, etc.) is not music so much as sound. You've got your whiny white guys, non-(musically)-talented white girls, and black people -- no offense, but I have no idea what they're saying. I'm white, so I naturally can't understand that sort of thing unless I was raised in the hood.

I guess I'd call myself a music lover without a face. I wouldn't really feel comfortable listening to any satellite radio station. I can't be pigeonholed into the genres of today. When people talk music to me, all I can do is say "Yep... mmm-hmmm... me too." I can't call myself a true musician for that reason. It also leads me to think about my band.

For years I had this dream that my band -- my friends and I -- would somehow hit it big, going around playing the music we loved, cutting CDs and junk like that. Only recently I dismissed the fantasy as impossible. It's impossible to get together a band whose five members go to three different schools and like profoundly different musical styles. It just can't be done. They can be friends, sure. But when one of their asses (mine) is too lazy to call four people and pray that they'll all be able to come over on a given day (which has happened a number of times I can count on one hand), nothing happens. To add insult to injury, they can't even keep a name for a year (did I mention that the other members want to change the name again? After the nine-month band name fiasco that ended last July, I want nothing to do with it. They can choose whatever name they want.)

Having a real band won't happen. Not when we all want to graduate. My friend is taking an Advanced Placement (AP) class this year. I don't know how he lives. I have a class that's about as hard as one, and the bearing on my mind and the sheer amount of work has basically ruined my life. I'll have to be in at least one AP class next year, and those classes are quite life-ruining as well (my present teachers have authority over which classes I get into next year, so they'll all make me take AP classes), so there's no chance of doing anything on the weekends -- even if everyone could get together. (I thought school didn't ruin your life till college.)

Musically, we're different as night and day. And even though I'd like to write some songs, I really have no one to collaborate with. The songs I have written I'll never be able to play -- not when I'm with this band, anyhow. When I play the one song that I want them to learn, some of them just don't listen at all and interrupt me as if I'm not playing. No, we won't be able to play at the local haunts where all the cool people go to hear the cool bands play. You have to have a repertoire in order to do that. (In fact, we came up with this system where we do a song that each person wants to play, and thus learn five songs at a time. After, say, three years, we're still coming up with songs for the first round. Not that there's a shortage of ideas, but we never get anything done at practices.)

Of course, I place a lot of the blame on myself. I really wanted to be in a real band, but eventually that feeling has just gone away. I play my guitars, but in spite of everyone's pushing, I don't want to take lessons. That's because I just don't want to get better at the guitar. For the music I like, I'm good. The music I like has simple (or no) guitar solos, and never more than, say, six to eight major or minor chords. I can't play lead guitar. I can't play licks or riffs. I never could; that's why I play rhythm in the band. But I can't even play "real" rhythm, like ultra-super-fast power chords which I'm supposed to. So it all boils down to the music I like -- that's one of the main sources of the whole problem.

I want to keep the band going, though -- I guess only to see my friends that I otherwise wouldn't see. And to play the four songs that we've learned over the past four years. Even though just thinking about the band makes me depressed about all that we can't do, at least I get to talk to my friends.

And now a relative slew of Ask Jordons, all of which rolled in today.

Tom: Black liquorice: disgusting, tolerable or delicious?

Either disgusting or just tolerable. I can't remember the last time I had it.

kevin: you should make TWOS in Spanish, for the 417 millions speakers worldwide and the 30 million speakers here in the USA. that was random.

Right now it's in English for the 350 million speakers worldwide and the... well, like, all of the people here in the USA. I have an extremely long way to go if I want to be fluent in Spanish. If you could translate everything for me, that would be great.

lollie: i have fallen out with friend and she wot make up with me what should i do?

I frequently get Ask Jordons from my friend Sean, who disguises his identity rather thinly. I don't answer some of them because I know it's just him by his characteristic all-lowercase typing, typical topics, and explicable aliases. Even though you, Lollie (if that really is you), have typed in all-lowercase, I don't think you're Sean because you made a typo. So here's my answer.

Well, I'm answering this as a true guy, so pardon the lack of sensitivity. But if I were you (which obviously I'm not), I'd just tell her to forget about the whole thing because it was probably nothing to begin with. See where you went wrong. If she's your friend, she'll want to be your friend again too.

This sort of thing happens all too much with my sister. I don't know what it is about girls that gives them makes them prone to so much drama. It ruins them. And while we guys coolly relax with our friends, they're the ones who think we're dumb.

DigiBless! It's holy water for your files! Maybe my site would get more hits if I sent it through their sacred servers. No further comment.

I have something to say. But first, let me throw out a few facts to give you an idea of what my life is like:

• I am not allowed to have a cell phone. I have never owned one. I can hardly use one, in fact.
• I am not allowed to have a TV in my room. When I was little my parents would say, "When you're 14," but now that I'm 15, they "forgot" that they ever said that. Don't get me wrong; we use 3 TVs (and have several more), but none of them are in my room.
• And having a computer... that's entirely out of the question. What, you think I blog from my room? Why would you think a silly thing like that? Is it because everyone else does? Oh yeah, that's right.
• I can't get away with saying "shut up" around my parents (or "stupid," I think; it has to have been a while since I've tried).

So, at dinner tonight, my mom mentioned that she just (about a week ago) found out about my two-week-old video, "One Day in the Desert," in which I documented the 24-hour fast which she obviously knew about. You know the scene early on in the video where I was frustrated and disappointed that some of my friends weren't going to be there? Well anyway, my mom was mad that I was mad about that, even though I got over it quickly. She was also mad that I never say anything to her, and instead I post everything here.

I responded by saying that if she and my dad wanted to pry out of me as much as I say here (which really isn't a lot, trust me), they could go ahead and do it. I'd talk if I were inclined to. Because at the dinner table, it's always "How was school?" "Good." "Do anything interesting?" "Not really." You know how it is. But my dad asks joltingly specific questions (by comparison) such as, "What did you do in [insert name of class here] class today?" That's what I'm talking about. I don't mind it. It makes things interesting. It lets my parents know what's going on. (They claim that I never say anything... well, they never really ask.)

Everyone wears different masks when with different people. We have different demeanors when we are around strangers, friends, lovers, co-workers, parents, grandparents, and other relatives. The "me" you see here is more or less how I present myself to my friends; the readers who are my friends in real life (my reader-friends or friend-readers) can attest to this. I just act differently around my parents. If I were to write this blog as if I were talking to my parents, only my parents would read it, wouldn't they?

As we have seen, my parents keep me on a very short leash. The World of Stuff is supposed to be an outlet for the things I can't say around them; everyone has thoughts that they need to express but can't because of what those close to them might think (that's the purpose of a diary/journal/blog). But since they know about this site, that doesn't exactly work. If they didn't read the blog, I'd feel more comfortable expressing certain things instead of having nowhere to let them out except to some of my friends (who aren't that many and can't always be around to listen).

While they're on this kick, they should talk to my sister, whose blog (well, LiveJournal) is private; my parents can't read any of it. She's no more talkative than me at the dinner table, and yet she seems to escape criticism. (Does that make sense to any of you? Because I don't understand it. But that's just me.)

I won't bother addressing my parents directly here. That's exactly what they complain about; that they have to read this instead of talk to me. Instead I'll tell them in person just what I've written here at the next opportunity -- before they're likely to read it.

In conclusion, I'd like to tell them:

1. that I can talk about the sorts of things I write here, and therefore
2. to stop reading this blog.

In case you found any of that boring, here's today's link: Writing English: Proofreading and Copyediting Services. Check out their rates: $0.01 (US) per word for proofreading, and $0.03 per word for full-fledged editing! I could make a killing off that kind of thing.

On Thursday I had to go to a school assembly about Black History Month. It was the general student body's first glimpse at our new auditorium. The building, which probably should have been finished along with the rest of the campus last year, only seats half the school, so there were two assemblies.

Anyway, you might say it was a celebration of black history, pride, spirituality, and/or community. But I say it was an all-black talent show, and I should know because I was there. There was music, dancing, poetry, and the like. But first, the ROTC (a.k.a. the Nazi Youth) marched up and barked this cute little chant about how "black history is everyone's history" and all that.

Most of the people participating were girls, so of course, their friends were all shouting their names when they got up on stage (you know how it is). And line after line of several poems was met with "mm-hmm"s from the audience. It was that sort of thing for about an hour. Oh, and there were also religious songs. Yes, you heard right, folks. Overtly Christian songs at an assembly that, as the Hitler Youth shouted, was supposed to "celebrate diversity." I expressed my feelings about all this to my friends sitting next to me: "I feel like I'm in Birmingham, Alabama, in the 1960s, and I've just walked into the wrong church." (I'm going to hell for that one. Sincerest apologies to Southern Baptists, etc.) After being angry and confused by this show of black unity, I quickly became bored.

And I thought about things. The blacks -- well, all minorities, I guess -- have got it together. They have to. They're a minority. You know what I mean. If whites do that sort of thing they're labeled as white supremacists. Because since whites are majority, they -- we -- don't need to be organized. I mean, take some of those poems -- "We have risen up," etc., etc. -- replace "black" with "white," and see how fast a guy with a uniform and a walkie-talkie confronts you. You're not allowed to do that stuff if your race or color is more than 50% of the population.

I thought about my history. Isn't there anyone I could identify with? Even a lot of my white friends have some sort of community. One of them is Irish. And I don't mean a wee bit Irish, mind you, but actually 100% of Irish ancestry (correct me if I'm wrong, Sean). He may actually be able to apply for Irish citizenship. And of course, his family has some Irish pals and they all get together and sing and drink and do other Irish things. I have two friends (they're related) who go to Canada frequently to visit their French-speaking relatives. Do I go to or get visitors from other countries? No, I'm a cultureless American.

I don't have a race (just say "white race" and aforementioned uniformed guy will be there in no time) and I don't have an ethnicity. Actually, I'd say that I'm one-fourth Croatian and Hungarian (20 bucks to anyone who can find those countries on a map) and one-eighth German, Irish, English, and Scottish. How can I have ethnic pride? ("We've got a guy here who's proud to be German, over.")

I'm nothing but a white mutt. I have no culture. None of my ethnicities -- if you could call them that -- have restaurants around here. And even if they did, could I just walk into an Irish place, and me, with a funny eastern European last name, say yeah, my great-granddaddy, who I never knew, was Irish? Could I sing side by side with them about the struggle of the Irish people? At least red hair runs in the family, so maybe future generations would be able to pull it off. "My great-great-granddaddy...". Well, maybe not.

I left the assembly feeling rather depressed. When I say nobody knows how I feel, I can really mean it. I can't go crash with my Croatian/Hungarian/English/German/Irish/Scottish buddies. I can't celebrate my European heritage. I don't belong to a community. I'm an orphan of culture. According to the Junior SS, black history is everyone's history, and the one race is the human race. So why can't I identify with anyone?