Salzburg

Okay, I finally have some internet so here are some pictures from the first couple weeks of our adventure...

The pictures are: Hannah and I before our flight!, A main street in Salzburg Altstadt, A nice Day in Salzburg, Me and Hannah! Some fountain where the Sound of Music was filmed, another picture of Salzburg from teh castle on teh hill. (Salzburg is amazing. It sits in a huge open valley of sorts, surrounded entirely by the Alps. The Hill's truely are alive with the sound of music!), and Hannah, Jinger, and me for lunch. The menu? wursts and spiegl beer. mmmmmm.

My deep connection with Tom Chaplin

Thank you to an annonymous soul (he/she cannot be named for the following obvious reasons) who shuffled Anne and me into the Keane show last Thursday and helped orchestrate perhaps the most intoxicating, surreal concert experience of my life. For those of you just joing the eventful experience of listening to my life, let me provide some background. Keane, a popular band out of London, is not just a band to me; it is a sound that evokes emotion from deep within. Naw! That's ridiculous, they are actually just my favorite band, and they played Boudler last Thursday for the first time. The following are my scrambled thoughts on the show, as well as my future plans with Tom Chaplin (the sexy lead singer for whom I have an unexplainable deep obsession.)

The concert itself was not anything spactacular, but there were some solid performances from Feist and Donovan Frankenreiter (from whom? yeah, that's what I said too but to my surprise I was pleased with each of their sets. Bear in mind this WAS a 21+ show hosted by KBCO. Combine that with the offbeat, slightly obsessive fan-base of Keane and you have a truley ecclectic concert.) Despite all the great aspects I could talk about, the real story is the love connection shared by Tom and me. To begin, the unnamed person strategically placed us in the front layer with the photographers, where we were waited on thorughout and provided beverages between sets. But what's more important is the intimate proximity Tom and I were from each other. He happens to like performing close to the corwd so he spent a great deal of time crouching down to us and reaching out his sweaty, pasty arms, which I simply admired. About halfway throught the set (which thankfully was about 1 hr 45 min and I was even ready for more) Tom looked into the corwd, straight at me, and his eyes told me what I have believed to be the truth since the beginning: that we share a connection that will one day unite us. Of course this did nothing but cofirm my suspicions from all along, but the reaffirmation was comforting. The band spent time between songs chatting with the crowd, talking about life on the road (though much of this was in order to recover from their total exhaustion from the altitude, but I appreciated it nonetheless).

Now here's the hooker. After the show this same person allowed us to stay behind. Though we didn't have backstage passes, we were able to hang out until the band came back upstairs. At that point Tim (the pianist) came up and met us and signed some posters, followed by Richard (the drummer) who also signed some posters. And lastly, the love of my life came up and--to my utter dissapointment--turned and left before we could catch him! Oh it was terrible! Though we left with the perfect ring in our ears, signed posters, and a show drumstick, I couldn't subside the emptiness inside from missing out on Tom. The truth is he just didn't see me. Had he looked my way when he came up in those last minutes I would have seduced him toward me, there would have been no escaping. After all, we have a connection.

I give the show an overall 9 of 10. I refrain from 10/10 to indicate my sadness about not meeting Tom. But I've already researched the next time we'll meet: November 16 in Offenbach, and this time, he won't escape me so fast....

Today I am here to share a story with you that (hopefully) will cause you to strongly consider all your options next time you want to check out a book from the brilliant institution we call the public library. First some background: I come from a family whose mother--among other things-- "believes strongly" in the public library. We spent considerable amounts of time each week in the Longmont library, exploring our respective age-appropriate sections, beginning with the children's bins, then moving to the revered teen section with favorites from RL Stine and friends, and eventually moving up to the extremely intimidating "real" section of adults--novels, research, non-fiction, etc. She was determined to ensure our literary career rested in the hands of the free services provided by the government-instituted public library. Therefore, being the superstar daughter I am, one of my first orders of business upon moving to Boulder almost two years ago was to begin my very own library card with the Boulder Public Library. My first encounter with this establishment should have been my first warning, but was one which I ignorantly missed. The first book I checked out was--well, at this point I can't even remember--because my recollection of the setting, plot, author, and such is overriden by my memory of the foul odor which permeated a surrounding five-foot radius each time it was opened. In fact, I blame this entire story on this one detail. Here's why: This book, which I checked out for a class that I shared with Tia, was so terrible I kindly allowed her to borrow it. And that was the last time I ever saw it. I'm not upset, it was a terrible book, but this is the cause of all my problems. After three months of asking Tia where the books is (and this was admittedly not a very committed pursuit of the book) I retired the hunt and decided next time I go in I would pay for the book. Background: I have had overdue fees at the Longmont Public Library since the beginning of my book-world existence; who doesn't?! When you go in, all you have to do to check out a book is make sure those charges are under $10-- no big deal. This is the Library for goodness sake! It's a free government service.

So, here's the real story. Apparently in Boulder things are done a little differently (is anyone surprised?). On Tuesday I finally sat down to work out my finances for next year and I (gasp) applied with Ol' Sallie Mae for my first ever student loan. First step in applying: credit check. No big deal, I've never had a credit card, I have no credit history. Next step: wait, no next step, my credit check doesn't pass. And here is the reason: "The address you provided in this application does not match up with the address on record with the credit bureau." The huh? Credit bureau? Apart from being slightly irritated that Equifax, Experian, and TransUnion are entitled to their own bureau, I was utterly confused. Without a credit history this industry trio should not have my information in the first place. Wrong. And secondly, if they do have my information there should be nothing bad on my report, as I've never had a payment to miss or even be late on. Wrong again. Upon further investigation, which involved three hours of phone trees, a bike ride across town, and an obnoxious number of phone calls to mom, this is what I found. Almost two years ago when I signed up with the he Boulder Library I gave them my current address, which at the time was my dorm address. Therefore, when I moved out of the dorms I no longer received that mail, some of which included notices that the Boulder Public Library had boldly turned my late fee over to (ohh this is so good, just wait...) a collection agency who, after some time of not tracking me down, turned my information over to the credit bureau, who has now listed on my credit report "One Potentially Negative Item". One potentially negative item?? This isn't potentially negative, it's hugely negative. And it's already destroyed my credit that I don't even have and inadvertently prevented me from enjoying my first loan application experience. This all comes down to one point: The Boulder Public Library is the WORST literary establishment I HAVE EVER had the displeasure of visiting. A collection agency? Seriously, we are talking about a smelly book from 1967 whose binding was already in shreds. And now I have to deal with potentially bad credit for seven years. Not to mention, the set-up of the library is poorly planned, nonsensical, and I can almost guarantee that the planner was not in the right state of mind when piecing this terrible place together. I have more: I was informed by Anne--who is also well-read and an advocate of the library and who HATES Boulder's Library--that in order to place a book on hold one must reserve it online and instead of picking it up at the library like a normal, functional library, it is mailed to you and then the library charges you for the mailing! I won't even comment on how absurd that is.

Here's the rebuttal which I know Tyler would certainly inform me of were he here to read this. I did have a bit of a warning. Yes, I received an extremely ambiguous letter last summer, which was forwarded to me from the residence halls. But one receives junk mail every day. Unique Collections Agency certainly didn't mark their envelope with anything particularly indicative of legitimacy that would prompt me to send them a check. However, that combined with the numerous phone calls from the library, which I cleverly dodge upon recognizing the dreaded number on my phone, left me with a sneaky suspicion that perhaps they were serious about getting that book back. (I still can't figure out why--it just smelled sooooo bad). But the credit bureau--honestly.

Well, all in all, the problem wasn't with my credit history (it's only a potentially negative item after all) but with the mismatch of addresses. You see, I gave Ol' Sallie Mae my permanent address, and the bureau has my dorm address, which was passed to them from the collection agency, which was passed to them the library. As it turns out, the entire process simply required a verification of that old address, which means I technically could have gotten away with NOT paying the fee....but I am a better person than the library so on Tuesday I made my very LAST visit to that place, in order to pay the $45 year old charge. I would encourage all of you to remember this story and ideally I would like you to never ever use their services again, but I suppose that is unreasonable of me to expect. Therefore, find your own silent way to protest the absurdity of their operations. I know I will, and maybe Anne too.

I currently sit in the Office of Student Affairs with a runny nose and an empty ziplock baggie because I got bored--not hungry--and ate the PP&J that I packed for lunch. I don'tbelong in this office. I am here because my boss, who apparently "trusts" me, volunteered me as a temporary helper/employee/aid/whatever for student affairs in an effort to help alleviate some strain on the understaffed office. Okay, so I understand how shitty it is to work in an understaffed office (ie, the presidents office) and how unjustly blissful it is to work in an overstaffed office (ie, orientation office), so I suppose I should feel good about being part of the operation to steal from the rich to feed the poor. But the truth is that I'm totally enraged. After a decent Tuesday night gathering at Erin's I woke up at 6:45 so I could get ready in time to ride my bike to ccampus, which is also a result of something annoying. Yesterday I lost my bus pass and ID in the most peculiar way. I walked out of my house and placed the card in my planner, storing it safely so I may retrieve it after a quick good luck call to my criminal friend Gaby (on her way to court) and a re-application of cherry Chapstick. I walked to the bus stop, jotted down a few notes in my planner, and as the bus approached I opened the page where I had supposedly left my pass and IT WAS GONE! No where! I returned to the site later that day and combed the place on hands and knees (no joke) and the ID is no where to be found. Well, I guess its back to the BuffOne office for my fourth new BuffCard--this has to be a record. But the point is that since I lost my pass I had to get up early enough to ride my bike to work (or pseudo work) by 7:30 am. This was rough. I can't complain I guess. I am here to answer calls and have gotten exactly 2 to date, and there is a gigantic jar of hershey's kisses sitting in front of me. But I am essentially cotantined in a cubical area, with no fellow Orientation Leader peers to converse with about really important things--like the NBA finals or why Jim has to speak half english, half um's when he assigns the most mundane of tasks. Actually, I just miss Gaby telling really dumb stories with so much enthuiasm and passion that you are deceived into thinking it was really as traumatic as she makes it sound. Tangent done.

So I looked up the definition in of "Weblog" in Wikipedia--which by the way is becoming an extremely popular source of information for speeches in my speech class and papers that I see. And my academic side can't help but cringe when I see such an unreliable, unpeerreviewed form of research utilized. Other than the fact that it would not pass the be-all, end-all test of PLC-approved sources, I don't understand why everone chooses Wikidepia. What happened to Jeeves and Google? Personally, I think Google is more reliable: one, because they now control the majority of our online tools; additionally, they have greater resources (also known as billions of dollars) poured into creating an accurate, near-perfect virtual environment for us. So instead I googled "Weblog" and google kindly gave me a little graphic with a blue book that, when clicked, gave six website where I could find the definition of Weblog. The last of the six happened to be Wikipedia, and consequently my trust in the Wikipedia cyber-info website has been restored, thanks entirely to Google and NOT to students in my Speech class. The point of this story is that the definition of Weblog includes the following: a web-based publication consisting primarily of periodic articles. After reading it I sobered up to the reality that I can no longer call this a blog, because it is not periodical, but aperidical, which in terms of sound waves (and probably many other things) means not peroidic. I was prompted to check this definition because of a compelling email I received from Teju, who conveyed his dissapointment in me for not updating my blog, or whatever it is now called.

So I write this to clear some things up: I am not a quitter. And likewise, my blog has not quit, it has simply gone into hybernation while I drown in a few things like school, work, internship, school, and internship. Did I mention work? But not to worry, something by the name of Summer has thrown me a life saver and soon I will be alive again, and ready to turn this mess into a periodical blog again.

I don't see why this should excite anyone, since most of what I have to say is not only complete nonsense, but has no bearing on how my readers carry on their lives. In fact, I imagine the world is quite content without me writing all my nonsense. The world says, "Thank you for not writing. I can go existing as I am supposed to, without Annie finding everything wrong with me in her suedo Seinfeld-writer kind of way." But I am sorry, I still intend to make a wild comeback as the summer begins. Just wait: a plethora of ridiculous, irrelevent, topics await your reading..... Check back if your in a Lets See What The Fool Has To Comlpain About Today kind of mood.

I dedicate this to Anne......

The state of Colorado faces a crisis. For those who are not aware, I love Colorado. I have grown up here, invested my education here, and I hope to settle here one day. Therefore, I take a strong interest in the political, economical, and environmental well-being of our state. Several current issues are of special concern to me, and we should all be thinking about the best solutions to restore harmony in this wonderful place. First, the I am concerned with the lack of funding for K-12 and higher education, and I see no end to this problem in the near future. I am concerned with recent debate over academic freedom, sparked by an Overland High teacher and student. I am very concered about certain freedoms being threatened, such as the stat-wide smoking ban that was recently passed by our legislatures (but I will not debate that one today).

Yet, as I consider these problems I cannot help but remember one crisis that is taking precedence over all these things, the one thing that is of greatest threat to the success and advancement of this state, and the one thing that I feel more desperate and hopeless about than anything: and that is Adele Arakawa of 9News, and her 10-year outdated hair-do that more resembles a charcoaled bird's nest than anything. Adele’s hair has been on the loose since halfway through the last decade and no one in this state has done anything to stop it. Are you aware that her hair has been the exact same since 1993. There is no progression; in fact, I believe Adele has actually fights progress. Her hair actually wants to change, but she won't allow it, which is why it looks so depressed. Every day she tortures it by converting it to a wild sculpture held in place by large quantities of cheap hairspray. When I watch the news her hair cries out to me and says "Annie, help me. Help her help me. I need to change!" And I am filled with sympathy for her hair and contempt for Adele because she won't change it. Honestly, Adele’s hair looks like a fried wig. Her bangs start halfway back from her forehead and emanate out like black fireworks. On normal heads, hair grows in the direction of gravity; on Adele’s head, hair grows outward, like a chia pet. But sometimes she does change it, she will pull it back into a ponytail. On these days I am deceived because I think she has actually started a new style. But then she turns her head to the side I fall out of my chair because I see the nest is not gone, it was just hiding, and now it looks like a life-threatening tumor protruding out the back of her head. I will watch an entire news program and realize I have retained nothing of news, and all I can think about is Adele’s disgraceful haircut.

Now I want you to understand something. Every person has the right to style their hair how they want, but some people have fewer rights than others. Those people include the CEO's of large companies, legislatures, especially those with the last name Butcher, Presidents of CU (Hoffman unfortunately was never aware of this relinquished right), and most importantly, newscasters. These people must be aware that they are being scrutinized for their appearance 100% of the time. They have a camera focused on them just four-feet away every day. Should these people not be slightly concerned with their appearance? Take Molly Hughes, for example (my personal favorite). Her hair is always updated and completely adorable. Right now she’s sporting the pure-blonde, sleek bob cut, and her bangs are thinned to a reasonable quantity. I can watch Molly without feeling uptight about her hair. This is the same with every other Colorado newscaster, so why is Adele able to get away with such neglect?

I realized about 3.5 years ago that this is a problem. But I realized the true gravity of the situation with the development of High Definition Television, in which 9News now casts their program. This advancement is great for everybody but newscasters. The screen is now so clear that we can see every minor flaw and wrinkle in their faces, as well as the cakey make-up which insufficiently covers it up. But the real problem is that I can now see every fried stringy piece of Adele’s bangs sculpted into perfection like a black and grey rainbow over her forehead. My confusion deepens. I can’t understand how a reasonable, smart individual like Adele could let her hair reach a state of such depravity, or how no friend will help her out with her problem.

Perhaps I am judging too hard. I realize hair is a personal choice, but Adele’s personal choice has become a Colorado crisis. When people visit this wonderful state and see a hair-do like Adele’s on the local news, I am concerned they might never come back. Is this the impression that we want our outsiders to have? That we are some rural, outdated state of people who cannot manage our hair? This questions the integrity of the entire state.

Last year I attended the 9News Leader of the Year Luncheon, at which Adele was the keynote speaker. I am proud to say that Adele was and still is the best public speaker I have ever heard. I am also proud to say that my table was far enough back that I couldn't see her hair, which was surprising considering that it sits 5 ½ inches above her head. I wanted to find her afterward and pull her aside so we could have a few words, but she was no where to be found. It made me wonder if she always leaves functions so that her frustrated fans won’t confront her about it. I hope this is not the case.

Either way, I have set out to save Adele’s hair. Even after 10+ years of abuse I still have faith that it can be restored. It will need some deep conditioning treatment, some serious pep-talking for Adele, and a new hair stylist, but I believe in miracles. Let us work together to restore the welfare and prosperity of Adele—and Colorado—by joining together in our disapproval of this madness.

Stereotypes

Today it was made clear to me why stereotypes exist. Most specifically, why stereotypes about CU-Boulder exist--and that is because they are true. Let me begin my day for you. This morning I went to a group advisor meeting to finally declare PRE-COMM. I sit down with four other students (most likely freshmen) in awkward silence until one fellow says something brilliant like, "So, uh, do we just sit here?" I couldn't help but reply to such a remark with anything but bitter sarcasm and contempt. "Um--YEAH." And I continued reading. Then the advisor comes in and begins explaining the COMM major to us, how to declare, and so on. The gentleman on my right says that he doesn't really know anything about COMM but he doesn't want to be the Open Option major anymore (yes, he called it a major) because he can't get into the Journalism classes and its bull shit. The advisor is baffled. Before she can collect her thoughts to come up with a response that will make sense to this confused student another guy asks her for a pen. She says, "You don't have a pen? This is a meeting, why don't you have a pen?" And he explains, "I don't have my backpack," as if that is supposed to fill in the missing blanks. So then I look around and realize that NO ONE has a backpack with them. In fact, no one even bothered to change out of sweats. Okay, so I realize it was 8:30 in the AM, but seriously. Who doesn't bring anything with them to a major declaration meeting? How did these people manage to turn in an application to even be admitted into this supposedly world-class institution? I can't believe I am declaring the same major as them--it doesn't say much about me. Actually, I do blame myself, and the rest of the fine Orientation Leadership Team that managed to let fools like this slip through the cracks last summer. (PS--As if I didn't feel stupid enough at this meeting, I found out tonight that my roommate Julie is going to graduate next December. This means that she will graduate from all of college in 2.5 years and start her masters before I even begin my major).

Okay so I got over the meeting. I try to pretend that people like that are the minority here at CU, not the majority. But the rest of the day suggests that this is not the case. In my speech class today we gave our informative speeches. These are to be well-researched, cited speeches, professionally delivered. My topic was about Guide Dogs for the Blind, with a full history and overview of the service it has done in America. I am expecting similarly interesting and intelligent topics, but once again the students of CU followed through with their duty of maintaining our reputation: speech 1- adderall, speech 2- how to get rich, speech 3- how to survive an avalanche when back-country snowboarding, speech 4-how to make homemade beer (with a full demonstration), speech 5- what a girl wants from her man, speech 6- the history of condoms, and speech 7- obesity. Well, I think we pretty much covered it all. The previous 7 topics are an all-inclusive collection of everything the 19-year-old CU student values.

I am very happy to say that I do everything I can to remove myself from this majority, including--oh like--hold down a job and make my own money, go to class every day, carry on conversations that don't include anything about inches of powder at Breck' last weekend, keep up on the Darfur crisis instead of the Jessica and Nick crisis, and maintain a basic knowledge of how to graduate and seek a career.

But this is getting too tangential. If you've made it this far let me apologize for my previous comments. I am off to continue defying the stereotypes that have come to embody CU..... I'm going to study

Therapy and more

The last few day have been defined by several notable events. To begin, I woke up on Friday feeling fantastic. It was the first day I have not felt run down and tired before my day even begins. I attribute this renewed energy to my new hypnotherapist. That is correct, I am now seeing a hynotheropist. Well, sort of. Brian is trying to become an accomplished hypnotist and Tyler and I have somehow become his worthy test subjects. Thursday night was our first session and I am proud to say that I am what's called a Deep Trans, while Tyler is only a Medium Trans. We discussed the irony of this, since Tyler is more into the new age material than I am. But really, I don't find it ironic at all since it confirms my suspicion that Tyler is a skeptic. He thinks he believes everything, but I think that he challenges everything, which is why hypnotism doesn't work as well on him.
In one hour of hypnotheropy I received the equivalent of four hours of sleep, and I was able to get my work off my mind for a while, which was the real reward I think. If you have a chance to experience this activity I highly recommend it. I will keep you posted on my therapy.
Second, on my way to the Library I committed an embarrassing crime. I was walking in Norlin Quad behind a girl with fantastic curls and she was talking on the phone. I realized it was my old friend from Sewall, Marisa. So I discreetly approached her and as I came up beside her I cupped my hand around her buttocks and squeezed hard. I then proceeded to turn and have a laugh with her but to my utter horror realized it was not Marisa at all. In fact, it was total, complete stranger. The girl looked at me in shock as I passed out from embarrassment and fell down on the ice, splitting my head open and bleeding all over. Actually, I didn't pass out, but I did want to die. It took a moment for us to realize the grave mistake I had made and to break the awkward tension we both laughed for about 35 seconds, while I apologized profusely and tried to explain. The episode ended with me saying, "I am so sorry and so embarrassed. I hope you don't feel violated--I am going to go now." And I proceeded to RUN to the Library to escape this terrible situation.
Work on Friday was unbelievable. Remind me to never work a) in Higher Education b) With all women c) In an office with suffocating politics or d) In a place that only has a pepsi, not a coke, machine. Work began with the usual: morning news search, a cup of coffee, and complaining to my boss about the Denver Post search engine. It ended with a crying, swearing, yelling, and an office therapy session with me as the doc. I won't get into details, but the take-away message here is this: Don't hire incompetent managers.
Also on Friday I went to German restaurant and received not only the best food but the best service I have had in a very long time. I ordered Jaegerschnitzel with Potato dumpling, mmm mmm. It's called Cafe Berlin and I offer my highest recommendations.
Saturday morning I went to hell, also known as Step Class. Not only was I the only new person there, I was the only idiot that absolutely cannot follow a sequence. We arrived late, which resulting in a front row spot for me. I felt bad the people behind me who might watch me and inevitably be thrown off, because I was doing the wrong step 100% of the time. Also, I was off-center so every time we did anything facing the left side, I was stuck trying to do the steps with my head over my shoulder watching the instructor, which only intensified my awkwardness. If you really want to understand how bad it was, ask Robyn. Actually, she might just laugh, which won't tell you anything except what a fool I am.
So I went home this weekend, partly because I needed to escape my life, and partly because I needed to restore my dignity. Nothing interesting happened today, except that I-gasp-visited the new Wal-Mart Super Center in Longmont, which was a huge mistake. To begin, the complex (yes, it is a complex) is about 2.30 minutes from my house and it took me--from the time I left my house to the time I parked--12 minutes. That is because I had to wait at a light just to turn into the Complex, even though it is outside the edge of town. As soon as I entered I walked back out because I had to make sure I was in the right building, for I thought I was in Sam's Club, or Cosco. They are lying when they call this a supermarket, it is a warehouse. Let me tell you about Super Center: there is no tile on the floor, it is cement, you cannot see the back of the store if you are standing in the front, there are more checkers than I can count, and the express line requires 25 items or less. I felt sick and overwhelmed. I had offered to pick up some drinks for my mother but I was too sore from Step Class to walk to the other end of the complex where the food resides. So I jumped in one of the six express lines and checked out--for good. I can't possibly go back. This is where I will stop talking about Wal-Mart, because I could go on about sustainable development and the impact that places like Wal-Mart, Target and Cosco have on it, but I will let you off the hook.
During my next hypnotherapy session I plan to visualize a world with no Wal-Marts, a world where people spend moderately, and value community over economic gain. Oh wait, I guess I could just study abroad...

It's Valentine's Day: BLAH

Homefries

Everyone should take consistent, healthy dosages of home. Home gives you the things you can't get at school, but are just as important nonetheless. Like,


-Homemade pizza, all of which you can eat without conserving slices for later in the night, when you know that same pizza will surely satisfy some phenomenal drunken munchie.
-Watching grizzlies fight on the Discovery Channel, and listening to your mother make extraordinarily intelligent and credible comments about it--like "wow, look at how much bigger that one Grizzly is than the other" or--after the bigger grizzly takes a break for an enormous shit, "well I guess that's why they are animals and we are not"
-Sloppy, juicy kisses from your sister who smells like barbecue
-Conversations over why the cat has more idiosyncratic credit than the rest of the family, and after such conversations no one does a thing to change this distorted power structure
-Bewilderment as to why the rum has been hidden by my father, but suspicions that he may have hid it knowing I would be home this weekend, under the very false presumption that I might steal some. (He is wrong, because I will simply find an alternative beverage)
-My father cracking some excellent jokes, especially the one in response to a serious discussion about Sigma Nu being kicked off campus for hazing: "Well if they are Sigma Nu, then I'm sure they knew." (more discussion about the Nu to follow)

Please, sacrifice some time to go home. You will be amazed by how just one night among people not of the raging fast college animals will neutralize you.


In other news, the State of the Union was on Monday. Due to a late class and other ailments such as stomachache, headache, fever, clogged nose, and lack of ability to breath, combined with the highly-prioritized Bachelor episode, I missed the wise words of our Chief. But, in great thanks to one fellow student who--like the rest of the campus community--is highly informed about Politics, I was able to get the low down:

"Oh man! His whole speech was made up of American Buzz Words for the common citizen, like 'freedom' and 'liberty' and 'terrorists' and 'justice' and on and on. You could have played the best drinking game ever! Seriously, if you just took one drink for every buzz word you could have been WASTED!"

And that was it. Nothing could have better illustrated this person's point. Think about the implications of this. From one college student to another we exchange highlights from the State of the Union--one the most significant annual events in politics--in terms of a drinking game. Ah, the life of a college student. Can the rest of the population actually relate? And we wonder why those in the "real world" don't take our fantastic campaign slogans like "Save the Dandelions in Southeastern Boulder" seriously. Which reminds me, Sigma Nu, another community of bright, upstanding fellows had their chapter revoked for hazing. 27 of 29 were suspended. Though I was no supporter of the University placing restrictions on fraternities last year, one has to wonder if they really can't do it on their own. It's like the rebellious child that lashes out the moment they are released to freedom. Did these gentlemen of the Sigma Nu chapter not get the Hazing Is Not Cool memo when we lost a student from this very same act last year? How short is their memory? Actually, it is very short--not only did they forget the regrettable events of last year, they also forgot that their very own chapter was founded in the post-civil war era by men from Virginia Military Academy who were specifically against hazing. What irony. But thankfully they won't need me to remind them. They will have the remainder of their years at CU as ex-Sigma Nu-ers to think on it.

Enough. Nyquill, compliments of Tyler, is kicking in full force. I must retire. Think about this until next time: Who will Travis pick?

What I don't understand is why some poeple have this great quality called common sense, and others do not. Like, there has to be some sort of pattern. Today I will explore this topic, and, like my highly advanced QRMS class is teaching me, I will look for a pattern that might lead to some sort of formula.

Okay here are a are some scenarios I know of where people do or do not have common sense. Each scenario will begin with a code that notes wether they have it or not. It will look like this:



CS= Common Sense
NCS= No Common Sense
F= Fool. I needed something to denote the people who are so ridiculous they are unclassifiable into common sense or no common sense.


1. The lady with a thick accent who left me a voicemail this morning at 5:55 am looking for Sophia. After she leaves the message, which is a marvel since my voicemail states quite clearly that this is ANNIE BARR, she calls me again. Naturally, I am awake from the first call so I answer, "Hebbo?" through my congested nose and she STILL doesn't realize this is the seriously wrong number. Finally I have to inform her that she has reached the wrong party, so I politely (ok, that is giving myself too much credit: 5:55 am + wrong number + head cold = NOT POLITE) I very inpolitely say, "look hearb, I thigg you hab' the wrogg nubber!" And a dial tone immediately follows. Actually, a dial tone didn't follow because I was on my cell phone--have you ever noticed how in movies they use a dial tone to indicate the end of a call, even if they are cell phones. News alert: cell phones don't have dial tones. For the lady who mistakedly called Sophia on my phone this morning at 5:55 am: NCS.

2. Brooke getting a job because she releazies that any day now she could be cut off from the Rents, or rather, the Mother. And for getting a job that conveniently lends itself to being hit on, I offer a strong: CS.

3. One of my roomates threw my clean clothes on my bedroom floor, leaving them victim to wrinkles and dirtiness. okay, I realize the severity of my offense of leaving them in the dryer but seriously, could this person not make the extra 4.5 steps to my bed and deposit them there?? Think about it: NCS.

4. Last weekend my parents officially lost it and went to--brace yourself--a motorcycle swap meet. This marks the official beginning of their membership in the world of parents who think they are cool and don't have kids around to remind them what they look like anymore. Really my words cannot explain. Which is why I have posted for your convenience and understanding pictures to illustrate my point.








I have nothing to show for my years of hard work. Really, I tried to make them cool, but they resisted. And now that I am gone this is the backlash. I mean really, my parents spent an entire Saturday at this event and came out with that. Next time you are having a rough day I want you to remember these images, and be thankful that at least your parents aren't tearing apart the front range on a motorcycle wearing a jacket like that. Okay, for my parents' exciting new purchase and complete lack of fashion savy sense: F.


Does anyone see a pattern to the gift of common sense, I don't. Actually, maybe there is one but I can't think about it, right now I need to go into mourning for loss of my parents' sanity...

A moment for the worst days of the year

I wish to apologize to my dedicated readership of 4 for slacking off on my blog. I realize that your morning routine consists of a shower, consumption of coffee/tea (not for Sean), brushing your teeth, and--most important of all--reading my fantastic blog. I hope dearly that this brief hiatus in my online journal of jibberish has not severly thrown off anyone's routine. Especially Anne, because I know your routine is especially important to you. For all the unfocused lectures, imcomplete homeworks, and episodes of insomnia, I apoologize. Things are okay now, I have posted a blog.

Okay, in all seriousness, I realize that my readership is in fact less than 1% of my previous quote. And that those of you who have ever read my blog only do so in a sorry attempt to procrastinate work, and once you've visited it you realize that doing homework actually has more redeeming value than reading this nonesense. This blog is more about me and my recent realization that I whine to my friends about insignificant shit entirely too much, and that a blog is a superb way to get these things out. In fact, for those of you I consistantly talk to on the phone know that I know have nothing to say when I call now, because anything that is worth uttering I have put in my blog. So here's some more things that you can now chose to hear, because I won't call you and force you to listen to it.


According to one study conducted by a professor from Wales, January 23 is supposed to be the worst day of the year (My, those Welsh sure are scholarly Anne). This comes as a result of holiday weight gain, holiday debt, unfulfilled New Years resolutions, taxes, the weather, etc. Perhaps January 23 was the worst day of the year so far, but not because of these things: Monday was when the tragedy of the Broncos' most embarassing loss EVER sunk in. But even yet, this was still not the worst day of the year. I can list far worse days that are to come to tell you why they will compete with January 23 for this highly coveted title:

-Today: I overdrew my account once again, and The Man which is a mild label for The Bank got $70 from me for spotting me only $30. Ugh.
-February 14, obviously. (Sorry, I am going to have a Cathy moment here). I will likely not have a date for this epic Day and if I do, it will be one where I have to carry on the conversation and straaaaiiiinnn to extract anything remotely intelligent from him. Naw, The Cork Mud Pie sounds like a much more solid plan.
-February 20: The Bachelor Season Finale. I just know that Travis is going to pick the stupidest girl on the show and it will reaffirm my belief that good guys pick dumb girls because they are easiest. Will they not learn even after medical school and 33 years? Is there no hope for us?
-March 13: National Open Your Unbrella Inside Day. Yes, that is correct. Can you imagine? This is fairly the worst day ever. If Americans choose to take part in the festivities for this day we can just forget about ever a.) having any good luck again, b.) feeling any sense of accomplishment after having wasted an entire day engaged in such foolishness. And the worst part is that we'll never be able to get those hours back. I hope desperatly that none of you participate in this madness. (Speaking of weird days, April 9 is No Housework Day, which ironically for the Powerhouse falls on a Sunday. If you know anything about my life you will understand the sheer glee I experience when I think about celebrating this day.)
-March 18: The DAY AFTER St. Patrick's Day. Need I say any more.
-and now a seriously sad one, May 7: my birthday, because a.) it falls directly in the middle of finals, and b.) I will not get to celebrate it with my sister, whose birthday also happens to be May 7, the only person in the world I care to celebrate it with)

Okay, so there are many many more days that can enter this contest. I will continue to brainstorm them, as should you....

As for now, if you have made it htis far in my worthless blog, I will advise you to do more importnant things with your time--like laying in your bed and counting the popcorns on your ceiling, or pondering the English imperative, or opening umbrellas inside....

In light of the last year and the three different jobs I have now had exposure to (Orientation, President's Office, and Center of the American West) I am going to generate a list, which I will add to periodically, of goals I will set for myself once I enter the professional world. I have learned a great deal about things that both help and hinder productivity, as well as employee morale, in an office situation. Some of my items will be from the perspective of what I will do as a manager of an organization or team, and what I will do (and am doing) as a "lowly" employee in an organiztion.

So, to kick off my list, I have a manager item:


When I am in a management position the door to my office will always remain open. I will establish my work area as a place available to any employee that needs to speak with me, on both a professional level and a personal level. I will not be above interuptions for questions or simple hellos.


If you have any ideas to add to my new list please shoot them this way. If not, check out King Joe of Luxembourg's blog.

I have to complain about something for a moment. It is snowing today, which is why I personally modified my shoe selection from that of heels to that of flats, an excellent move. In conjunction with the rest of my attire, I am still wearing dress shoes, but they are flat to accomodate for the miles of walking around in the campus slush and slip. Additionally, I am wearing a heavier coat, whose cherry red unfortunatly clashes with todays's pink color palette selection... but I have to stay warm. I share this story to demonstrate that one must consider two things when composing an outfit: fashion and convenience. This is why I must complain about students that employ the sub-fad Roller Backpacks. Yes, the backpacks on wheels that more closely resemble carry-on suitcases. They are neither fashionable nor convenient. Whenever I spot one of these infamous Roller Backpacks I immediately wonder, "my gosh, what exotic destination must they be flying to?" And then I remember, "oh no, they are more likely headed to geology." This fashion accessory is entirely over the top. In addition, do you realize that CU-Boulder is perhaps the least hadicap-accessible campus in America? I fail to see how a Roller Backpack could withstand more cobblestones and grand staircases than a wheelchair. Has anyone considered that this piece of notebook and pencil luggage is slightly excessive? Or am I missing something?

Read the Rocky and Post

Two reasons to read today's newspapers:

- So you can check out two of my roomates, Julie and Martin, as they make an appearance in the Rocky Mountian News with caption and picture at the Capitol.

- But more importantly, so you can make your newspaper broncos hat out of the "Scene" section of the Denver Post

Boring comments for a boring day

I am currently sitting in the Trident, yes it IS local, with none other than Mr. Mangin himself--who may or my not be King Joe of Luxembourg--listening to him carry on about notoriously trivial items like being buried in the sea, challenging my blog, and Starbuck's being the center of all evil in corporate America. Is there anything I loved more? Mmmm, other than watching trash TV like Blind Date, sitting through the lectures of pompous asshole professors, or going for a jog in sub-zero temperatures--nothing!

Meanwhile, Sean is bitching about his chronic fear that the 20% is becoming the new 15%--gratuity I mean. There is perhaps nothing worse that could happen to my dear friend Sean. (With the exception of, dear God, the phone company miscalculating his bill by 14 cents.)


In other news, I actually have homework already. This is tragic really: my life is slowing degrading to a portrait of the world's most uninteresting college student. As I walked down Pearl Street tongiht I noticed I was a dedicated member of the 1.3% of pedestrians wearing a back pack--which includes the bums or Iraqi vet returns. Everyone else pranced about in their shiny black stilletos and Sequenced Going Out Tops while I stared at my feet considering how I can complete all my work and still crawl into bed before midnight. I have realized, it is Day Two of the semester, that is why every cool person is going out, and I am such a chronically busy and therefore boring person that I don't even have anything to write about for my blog. Now I am depressed. I am going to sign off. Tyler and Sean's conversation about UFO's is picking up speed and it is definatly more exciting than this blog about nothing.


I will leave you with this one last question: Is Tyler a cynic?

Fight Ganster Hate

Today there was a table in the UMC whose campaign title was "Fight Gangster Hate". hmmmm....gangster hate...ganster hate.... Oh yeah! Ganster Hate--that's right--there's loads of that here at CU. In fact, now that I think of all the Ganster Hate we have I think I might go sign up for that campaign, or even donate money. Ganster Hate is so bad here that I often cannot focus on my hippie professors during half-attended lectures, I struggle to safely move about Martin Acres, and I feel uncomfortable partying with the yuppie, rich, white kids on the hill.

Classes started today. So far I've had Duetsch 2020. One topic of discussion was about new movies and I mentioned that I had seen Syriana. And my professor asked me, "Glauben Sie die Filme?" which translates as, "Do you believe the movie?" Well, Tyler, if you are reading this I have one question for you: "Glaubst du diese Filme?"'

This is enough nonesense for now. I have other things to do, like attending the most profound and substantial class on my schedule, as well as the most brilliant course offered at CU, my Speech Language and Hearing Sciences Class (yes, this IS science): The Science of Human Communication. I imagine we will learn all about the complex mechanics of how messages are transmitted from one brain, through the mouth, and received by another, a phenomenon that I am clearly utilizing with my exciting new blog.

ME 

Sex in the mainstream and some other bandwagons

Sean and I watched Kinsey last night. Have you seen it? Well, if you haven't apparently you should because it's blockbuster recommended and nominated for 3 golden globe awards. I have no idea why. Other than the fact that it places sex as a biological phenomenon/fulfillment of natural desire/an activity of no more significance than toast for breakfast, which hollywood is always a fan of doing, it was a very boring movie and I cannot possibly see why it deserves any more golden globe nominations than Fantastic Four. Speaking of Fantastic Four--when I watched this masterpiece of an action-packed thriller, I would like to share with the world that upon the successful completion of heroic act #1, when the Fantastic Four first save the innocent civilians, I liberally shed tears for ten minutes on the plane to LaGuardia. It wasn't because Fantistic Four composed an emotionally provokative scene, or movie for that matter, but it was because I was having an extremely emotional week, and the Fantastic Four delivered their heroism at fantastic timing for me. (Yes, the victim on my left side did offer me a kleenex and the victim on my right did ask me if I was okay--extremely embarassing).The point is that Kinsey was not a great movie: people are reacting strongly to it because of it's timing, because of where sex is in society, which is not a place that is public and exploited enough for them. That is a terrible reason for golden globe nominations. Now I do think that Brokeback Mountain deserves some nominations, but only because I used to think Heath Ledger was foxy, and after his performance in this movie a am nealry convinced he actually is internally torn between loving men and loving women. He was truley that convincing.

Moving on.....I am now jumping on the blogging band wagon because that is what I am supposed to do. I am in college and I need to keep up. I would be a lot of happier about now being an at-large member of this fast-moving first decade of the 21st century, except that I still don't own an iPod, which really irritates me, especially since Robyn recently found the courage to bite the bullet and spend the $300+ or whatever these overratted gadgets cost and get her own 30 GB iPod. Now I really do suck. So I will continue to carry on as I did before, using my iPodlessness as an excuse for not working out, which will definately not work in conjunction with my new years resolution to run the Boulder Bolder this year, another band wagon I have decided to jump on (but so far I am having trouble actually getting on, I am more running next to it, thinking about jumping on)

Well this is enough nonesense for a start. If I am doing the blogging thing wrong someone should tell me. I would't want to cause any problems my first week as a member of this exciting community.