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Hello, I'm 22 and attend SDSU. I like surfing, reading, and posting FML-esque experiences.Following
“Then it’s like we have met.”
I really dig Richard Linklater. I think I’ve seen all of his movies.
On Saturday night I attended a Vegas themed party. For anyone that’s read more than two entries of this blog, you know where this is going. Yes, I got sort of trashed. Luckily, my roommate Armin clung to sobriety long enough to drive my drunkass home. However, that’s not the story.
The next morning, I opened my car and was surprised to find a torn, novelty-sized Queen of Diamonds on the passenger seat. Generally, the Queen of Diamonds is perceived to be good luck, a sign of positive things to come with the ladies, but the fact that it was nearly ripped in half… kind of ominous, no?
Hooray. Apparently my business column was named “Article of the Week” by editors at the Daily Aztec. I wasn’t there to accept the award because I missed the meeting to work on another article. D’oh.
A few of my roomates and I emerged from a random girl’s house this morning hungover and in low spirits. After searching, we found my car and collectively cursed PB for its cheap drinks that encourage alcoholic behavior.
We were a sight. Will booted ( Aussie speak for threw up) on the side of the road. I had to put on my sun glasses to subdue the sun’s harsh rays. Armin (my other roommate) looked comatose.
Then, Tiny Dancer started playing on the radio. We started singing ironically at first, consciously recreating this scene: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qn3tel9FWU
But by the time Elton delivered “turning back, she just laughs”, we were serenading pedestrians, oblivious to how dorky we looked.
It was both hilarious and cheesy. At the cost of my liver, I’m having the time of my life lately.
Lately, I’ve been questioning if democracy works.
Before you call me a traitor and try to impale me with one of those miniature American flags, hear me out.
Thanks to a journalism class, in recent months I’ve been assigned to report on a few city council meetings throughout San Diego. I know the thought of democracy in action makes Americans everywhere get all misty-eyed and sentimental, but what I’ve witnessed would make even Uncle Sam disown the U.S. Let me explain why my faith in the system has been undermined.
The first city council meeting I attended began innocently enough. The council members calmly outlined a three-hour agenda, which began with an open forum for the public and then moved to discussion on scheduled topics. I looked around the crowded room and eagerly awaited a thought-provoking debate. However, that expectation was shattered when an old guy who resembled Clint Eastwood shuffled to the podium and cleared his voice. He started by talking about how the Ford dealership screwed him royally on a recent transaction. Um, I guess that’s semi-topical? He concluded his diatribe by casually asking, “Also, can I bring my gun to the next meeting?”
Not only was the phrasing of the question troubling, but I couldn’t believe this individual was allowed to wield a firearm. Even more concerning was the less than subtle implication that he would cap anyone who disagreed with him. I made a mental note to avoid future meetings at this location for fear of being caught in a hail of politically charged gunfire.
Dirty Harry’s spiel set the tone for the next three hours. The floodgates were officially opened. A horde of people came out of the woodwork and used the forum to level complaints unknown to reasonable members of the public. Mentions of the government secretly controlling us? Check. Accusations of council members stealing? Check.
Despite being cut off on multiple occasions, people continued to make personal speeches in the time allotted for discussing relevant issues such as zoning and taxes. I wished I had a bottle of liquor, not only to diminish the noise of the rants, but turn the ordeal into a drinking game. The rules would be simple. Any mention of the word “conspiracy” would warrant a shot of alcohol.
As a result of these city council meetings, I’ve been acquainted with all kinds of crazy. I’m talking the kind of crazy normally reserved for straitjackets and Sarah Palin.
It certainly made adhering to the neutral principles of journalism in my reports difficult. For example, in one of my reports I erred on the side of caution by writing, “The woman passionately urged the council members to reconsider a proposal.”
Even though I was tempted to write, “The deranged woman didn’t really have an argument, so she resorted to swearing and the use of racism.”
I wish I could say my experience was an anomaly, but these meetings are a microcosm of what’s typical across the nation. For example, a simple Google search of “city council meetings” yields countless videos displaying the same reckless disregard for sanity. In fact, San Diego is apparently tame compared to the fights that break out in Philadelphia or the psychotic accusations of helicopter attacks that are a staple of council meetings in Charlotte, N.C. (seriously, Google it). I’m starting to think even the top tiers of government have been hijacked by other unhinged thinkers. See, apparently crazy is contagious because I’m now proposing my own illogical theories.
I’m not trying to say I want to submit to dictatorial rule or anything; I just have mixed thoughts about our political system.
If nothing else, city council meetings temporarily keep a large portion of crazy people occupied. That’s certainly something I can feel patriotic about.
Me honoring my heritage
Forget paranormal activity and other halloween movies, this shit is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. What the hell are German people showing their children?
The artsy echo when people talk is pretty cool though.
A test to study for and an article to write, both of which I haven’t started doing. Can someone put me out of my misery? I have no idea why I’m posting this on Tumblr. Complaints this short fall within the confines of the 300 character limit on Facebook.
My roommates made me go to a Modest Yahoo (Matisyahu) concert last night.
I’d never heard of him, and the descriptions of a Jewish-reggae artist sounded more novelty than bitchin’, so my expectations were extremely low.
I say this without sarcasm: it was really good. Chalk it up to the power of music or the clouds of smoke that enveloped me for 3 hours, but he blew my elitist-music lovin’ ass out of the water.
Plus, I met a cool chick there. Pretty good night, all in all.
