A Switch-up

You go through high school trying to figure out how to be liked and how to fit in with the popular kids. Once you get to college, you realize how much of a sham your admiration for the popular kids was. Popularity doesn’t matter at a university. There are way too many different people and way too many different social groups for any one person to be universally popular like they were in high school. That’s where college gets interesting. Whereas high school was about fitting in with the popular crowd, college is about distinguishing oneself from that crowd.

Of course, this isn’t true for everyone. Many college students continue on their high school mission once they arrive at University, joining fraternities and sororities that are all about fitting in with the cool kids. Some people never snap out of the high school mentality. Even if we do begin to individualize ourselves, we still do it with respect to our surrounding crowd. We don’t want to be an alien in a crowd of humans. Thus the key is to find that middle ground.

Establish your own brand of personality but be relatable to others.

Sitting in the Cosmos

I’m sitting in the Cosmos right now and life is like Pizza: It comes in slices. Some slices ain’t that enjoyable because we eat them too fast. Some slices burn us because we eat them too early. Some slices get cold because we don’t eat them when they’re meant to be eaten and instead do other things. At the end of the day though, we’re hungry and pizza get’s the job done. Who wants to eat with me?

I Lost a Lucky Penny

Today I lost my lucky penny.

Actually, I should start this story from the beginning:

Today, I received a lucky penny. I was buying groceries with my roommates at Trader Joes and our total came out to $141.99. I handed the cashier three 50 dollar bills, so I received eight dollars and one lucky penny as change.

This penny was super shiny and full of promise. It was a lucky penny. Nevertheless, I left it in my car’s center console and went inside to unload the groceries. Once that was finished, it was time for me to give my dog a walk. On the way out the door I stopped by my car and grabbed the penny from the center console, and placed it in my coat pocket because I was feeling lucky.

I biked over to the local Mormon church with my dog. It has the best lawn and he loves when I bring him there to play. It’s also fun being near Mormons.

Anyways, I parked my bike on the sidewalk and started to play with my dog on the grass. He got me tired pretty quickly and before I knew it I was lying down on the church lawn staring up at the stars. About three minutes passed before I caught a whiff of fresh dog shit. I decided to get up and clean it. As I was getting up I noticed a man leave the church and walk left down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. He was the first person I’d ever seen walk out of that church, since I typically bring my dog by there at night.

I turned on my flashlight and located the dog shit about a foot to my right, fresh and stinky and steamy. As I was bagging it up, I noticed the guy from the church walking back towards the church. He kept going past the church and continued down the sidewalk. It just felt odd. Mormons.

I decided it was time to head back so I grabbed the bagged dog poo and hopped on my bike. Right as I was heading off, I felt in my pocket for that lucky penny but to my dismay it wasn’t there anymore. It must have fallen out while I was playing with my dog or while I was lying down on the lawn.

Normally I wouldn’t give a hoot about losing a penny, but since this was my lucky penny I decided to turn around and give it a quick look.

I walked over to where my dog and I had been playing and turned on my flashlight, hoping I’d catch the light shining on a reflective copper surface. Unfortunately I didn’t see anything. After all, it was a tiny penny in a large patch of grass.

I figured I might as well kill two birds with one stone since I already was back on the lawn. I grabbed my poop bag and walked over to the bus stop so I could throw away the bag of poop. I basically took the same path as that strange Mormon guy from before. I tossed the bag in the trash and started walking back.

On the way between the bus stop and my parked bike I decided to give that church lawn one last walkthrough in hopes that I’d find the penny. I turned on my flashlight again and started scanning the ground.

The next thing I know I hear tires screech and a white car swerves onto the lawn right next to me. I was baffled as hell and looked around to see if my dog was ok. I didn’t see him. Then I heard a yelp from across the street and whaddaya know, my dumbass dog is bothering two small dogs being walked by their owner.

Then it clicked. My dog must have darted across the street and caused the poor sap in the car to swerve out of the way.

I was pissed. I called over to my dog and yelled at him to get the fuck back over to my side. I wasn’t thinking straight and probably should have waited because as my dog started to run back across the street I saw a car heading right towards where he was running. I ran into the street and held my hands up so the car saw me and stopped. My dog made it across safely and I actually managed to restrain myself from beating his ass. I yelled at him and called him a bad dog but before I knew it I was hugging him and thanking God that he was ok.

After a few minutes, we got up and I start walking, once again, through the church lawn towards my bike. It was stupid, but I couldn’t resist looking for that penny just one more time, even though me looking for that penny is what led to all that commotion in the first place.

I didn’t find the penny so I hopped on my bike and brought my dog back home. Right as we were about to get to the front door, a shiny object on the floor caught my eye. I picked it up. It was a brand new, shiny quarter. Was it lucky quarter? I wasn’t sure anymore.

I brought the quarter inside with me and gave my dog some water. Then I put the quarter back where I found it because fuck luck—somebody else can have it.

I’m just lucky my dog is alive.

Returning the Favor

My senior year of high school I still hadn’t kissed a girl. I wasn’t some nerdy loser but I had no idea how to talk to girls. Finally in second semester of senior year I got a hot girl to start crushing on me, but at the end of the day I still had no idea how to pull her. If it wasn’t for my friends, I probably wouldn’t have ever gotten with her. I might even still be a virgin today O.O

My group of guys was friends with her group of girls and one night we all went out to grab ice cream. It was obvious what me and her wanted to do but I had no idea how to accomplish my objective and certainly had no plans on doing anything with her that night. She rode in my car to the ice cream place with me and two of my good friends. After eating the ice cream though, my friends conveniently decided they would ride home with somebody else. They did me a huge favor because I certainly did not have the balls to ask this girl to ride home with me alone.

We drove to a park and she gave me my first kiss that night. It led to a great relationship, and I never would have gotten where I got without the help of my Bros.

So this brings me to the point of the story: If someone does you a huge solid, return the favor when the opportunity presents itself. Just the other day, I got my opportunity to return that favor. My friend Manny had become cold footed in his quest to ask out this girl he really liked. He kept talking himself out of it, and since he waited so long she ended up dating her best guy friend instead. They both were clearly disappointed with the outcome. I knew I had to do something.

I spoke to Manny the other night and coached him through what to say to her. By this time in my life, I’ve become pretty adept at getting girls, if I do say so myself. Manny, however, resembled how I used to be before I knew how to ask for what I wanted. So I broke it down for him. I explained that even though she’d been flirty with him he’d reciprocated her foreplay with nothing but mixed signals, which dissuaded her from making a concrete move. I told him he had to be honest with her and explain how he really felt.

The next day, after class, to his alarm, Manny found himself alone with this girl. Instead of shitting his pants, Manny took of his pants and put on some big boy pants. Then he admitted his love to her. She confided that she also really liked him. He decided he wouldn’t kiss her then and there because she was still “dating” her best guy friend and said she needed time to think. My boy Manny has morals!

She took all the time she needed and broke up with the poor sap the very next day. Coincidentally, Manny had invited me to his art club at school earlier in the week to meet his friends (including this girl) and guess what! This was the day of the art club. I had one mission and one mission only: Help my boy seal the deal with this girl so he could finally get some poon.

I had a great time talking to both of them at the art club. I told Manny my new crazy vision of the future (which I will be writing about soon enough no doubt) while this girl sat between us and tried to decide who she liked more. Just kidding; she clearly liked Manny more plus I’m not tryna do my boy like that. Anyways! We all went and got dinner afterwards, about 10 of us, and as this girl was about to leave with her other girl friends and Manny was about to drop me off at my car, I grabbed her by the shoulder and suggested she accompany us instead. I gave her shotgun while we drove back to my car and left them to go at it! And whaddaya know, Manny has a girlfriend now who he really likes and whom really likes him back! All these years ago my boys put me on with the girl I liked, and I finally returned the favor to a friend who needed me!

Life is great when it comes full circle. But even if the big picture doesn’t connect, find satisfaction in making your friends happier!

Making Peace with the Enemy

All names used in this article are made up and any similarities to real people’s names are entirely coincidental

Hey Bros. Today I ran into an old archnemisis of mine, Stan Sikorsky. Back in high school me and Stan hated each other. We never acknowledged it to each other’s faces, but it was obvious. I always got dirty looks from him and I can personally attest to all the shit talk I did behind his back. I called him a faggot, a cheater, a fake. I didn’t see any way me and Stan could ever be friends because he was a gay cheating piece of shit and I was not.

This morning, however, high on the buzz from winning my first ever 5K race, I noticed Stan and his mom about 20 feet to my left, grabbing food and drinks. I hadn’t seen Stan since high school. I knew what I had to do.

I walked over to Stan and tapped his right shoulder. I said hi and looked him in the eye. He didn’t recognize me and my full beard since I didn’t have any facial hair in high school. Stan looked different too. His hair was longer and wavier now and his ears were pierced. He looked happy. It was clear to me that college changed both of us.

I told Stan who I was and the first thing he said was, “Wow, you’ve changed.” Glad you noticed that Stan. I told Stan it was good to see him and, as confidently as I could, added “Sorry we were such enemies back in high school.” He told me not to worry about it and said things were never even that bad between us. I tend to disagree, but then again it’s not like we ever fought each other or even acknowledged our distaste face to face. So I guess he was right. Anyways, it felt good making peace with an old enemy of mine.

The truth is, I stopped viewing Stan as my enemy long ago after realizing that we weren’t so different after all. All those things I hated about him back in high school, I’d came to appreciate after experiencing them within myself. I’ve felt like a faggot, a cheater, and a fake. Back in high school I hadn’t yet, but now I have, and now I see things differently. On top of that, I had added Stan on Instagram awhile back and that had given me the opportunity to see his artistic side.

Learn to love your enemy. Ender Wiggin preached this, and it’s the truth. Once you find a piece of yourself within your enemy, differences can be overcame and wounds can be healed.

My Grandma’s Elf

Everybody loves my Grandma’s art work. Mostly abstract pieces, painted on canvas with an array of pastels, watercolors, and oils. They’re as colorful as they are random, but the randomness is methodical, calculated. That’s what everybody loves about my Grandma’s artwork—the chaotic precision within each brush stroke. The art tells stories, but the stories it tells depend on the listener.

My grandma submits her artwork to local shows and exhibits, receiving praise from viewers and money from the occasional buyer. My grandma takes pride in her artwork, but I’m not really sure why. She doesn’t make it.

My Grandma’s art studio is a closet, 6 feet wide and 10 feet long. It’s really cramped but many great paintings have come out of it. There are no windows in the closet. It’s lone light source comes from a half-burnt bulb on the ceiling directly above the center of the closet. The walls of the studio are lined with shelves filled with art supplies. Stencils, pencils, paintbrushes, paints, papers, oils, charcoal—if it can be used to make art, my Grandma has it in her closet.

But there’s something else in my Grandma’s closet that if seen, would change people’s perception of her. What I’m about to tell you is a secret known to nobody but me and my Grandma. Until now.

In the far-right corner of the closet is a metal stake that sticks into the concrete floor, and wrapped around that metal stake is a metal chain, which connects to the right leg of—and I’m not lying—a small Elf.

This Elf has no name, but he wears a deep blue button-down shirt with green cuffs and gold linings and a pair of striped yellow and black pants with pointy red-velvet shoes. He wears a matching blue beret hat with a feather on the left side, which really accentuates the curls in his dirty brown hair that runs down his neck in a directional frenzy. But the thing that really strikes me about the Elf are his purple eyes—I’ve never seen so much truth as I did when I looked into them and met his stare for a brief moment. Those eyes hold a lot of soul.

I’ve felt guilty about this for a while so now I must confess the truth: Everybody thinks my Grandma makes those paintings but the truth is that she doesn’t. Her Elf does. She locked him in that closet and forces him to paint. If he doesn’t produce artwork, he doesn’t get fed. My Grandma makes the best cookies, so I guess that’s why he paints so much.

I can’t help but feel sorry for the little Elf though, because no matter how much he does for my Grandma, he never gets to remove his chain and leave her closet. The only way he can leave that closet is through his paintings. Even though the Elf must hate my grandma for keeping him prisoner, he loves when she tells him all the compliments she receives for her artwork. He feels hope knowing that even though he is never seen, he is heard—at least in some small way.

The Elf admitted to me once that he’s thought about murdering my grandma so that he could escape her closet. He’s afraid to do it though, because he doesn’t know if there’s a place for elves in this world. The Elf told me that if he were to escape, he’s not even sure where he would go, or if people would still appreciate his art, knowing that it came from an elf. I told him not to worry—my Grandma is 95 years old and she’ll be dead soon enough. Once she passes, he’ll be free to leave her closet and show the world his artwork.

I hope for the Elf’s sake that he does leave her closet one day, but part of me wonders if he’d prefer to remain in there since it’s all he’s ever known. I told him that if he decides to stay, I’ll do him a favor and continue to send out his artwork to the shows and exhibits. That way, he can remain where he’s comfortable and still be free.

The Worst Men in History

You read the title—who do you think they are?

Make a list and write down the first names that come to mind. Who’s on your “Worst Men in History” list? Is Hitler on that list?

Let me give you my opinion. I hope it rubs you the wrong way because if it does then it means I’m making you think.

I don’t think Hitler qualifies among the worst men in history. In fact, I place Hitler among the greatest men. Morally, Hitler was inept and uninformed. He failed to recognize the potential in all humans, not just the potential of his own race. But Hitler indisputably had vision and ambition. He had a goal and fought hard to accomplish it. He inspired millions to follow suit. Hitler’s actions incited a global war whose outcome dictated the future of the human race. Luckily he lost that war, but that’s beside the point. Hitler saw an unsatisfactory world and actually did something about it. For that reason, Hitler was great.

A man who paints his vision is an artist. A man who fights for his vision is a soldier. A man who sees his vision before anyone else is a leader. Hitler may not have had love for all people in his heart, but he certainly had a vision and was determined to achieve it. For this reason, Hitler was great man. A bad man, but a great man. I am not ashamed to admit that I admire his drive.

The WORST men in history are neither bad nor good. The WORST men in history are complacent. These men sit around and fit in while the world changes for them. These men do not lead; they are led. They do not provide; they are provided for. These men are filler. They are not of value. They are normal. There is no negative number on the greatness scale. You’re either great, or you are not. Where do you want to be? If you do wish to be great, get out there and fight for your vision.

Ego Death: The Modern-Day Suicide

Deep down, we all want this to be over. We love happiness, yes, but we run desperately from sadness. When we spend too long in the light, life loses it’s luster. Immersing ourselves in darkness makes us greatful to be in the light again. That’s what keeps us living.

Yet even when we enjoy the light, darkness pulls at us and intrigues us in the deepest possible way. It makes us curious about the unknowable. And each time we turn to it, we hope to get a glimpse of what lurks deep in the murky water: Truth about our purpose and about our existence; truth about what we really are. It’s these dark fantasies that drive people towards death.

Now we live in a world riddled by anxiety and uncertainty. More data is available to us than ever before, and it leads to more confusion because more answers create more questions. With the advent of the World Wide Web, we have access to an unprecedented database of knowledge. It’s too much for any single one of us to process, and this realization is what makes us feel helpless in the modern world. This is why suicide rates are higher than they’ve ever been.

Yet, a milder means of suicide is steadily on the rise as well, a type of suicide that isn’t conventionally considered as such. I’m talking about ego death.

When experienced, ego death obliterates our mental but retains our physical. Our conception of self dissolves and The Walls Come Tumbling Down, as Eyedea would say. Once we regain control and our ego rebuilds itself, we’re no longer who we once we’re. Our understanding of self simultaneously increases and decreases, increasing because we understand ourselves to be more than this personality we contrived, and decreasing because we realize if we are not who we think, then who are we? These questions draw our eyes to the darkness, where we intuitively seek answers to all that which cannot be physically observed. So there it is in a nutshell: we look into death in hopes of finding the answer to life.

Feel sorry for those who seek ego death because their curiosity is simply a consequence of the uncertainty in these modern times, but do not condemn these seekers. In their quest for answers, these people tread the tenuous line between this world and darkness and come back with insights about the unknown. Do not be deceived, however; the darkness is unknowable as long as we are alive. Those who choose to enter darkness receive a mere glimpse. Their curiosity remains unsettled.

In older times, religion helped to negate our curiosity by offering a map of the afterlife to those who needed it. Nowadays, we condemn religion, in the process removing it’s safety blanket from our backs. We are desperately in need of a new map. These seekers of darkness are gradually giving us one, using ego death to come back into the light and tell a story.

Freedom to Hate

This is inspired by Steven Crowder and his debate with Veronica. It was pleasant watching a girl I used to debate with try to hold her own against a true pro. I think she did a great job, but if I’m being perfectly honest, I think I would have done a better one. Veronica has always been smart but I’ve always considered myself smarter. Hey, that’s just my opinion and for now, I have the freedom to say it.

My opinion is simple. Humans should have freedom to express themselves however they choose to. That includes speech. I believe we should have the freedom to say whatever we want. However, HOWEVER, (and I cannot emphasize this point enough) if you speak hatefully, you are not free. You cannot be free if you hate, because your hate destroys the freedom of others. If your words are intended to degrade and tear down people as they express themselves, you are confining their freedom. You are speaking freely as an individual, but in the process, are preventing others from doing the same.

Thus we see the root of the issue: limited space. If we lived in a universe with infinite space and potential, then we could build, and build, and build, without ever having to destroy. We could truly speak freely. However, as human beings in 2018 our range is limited. We cannot speak freely without impacting others. The fact is that repercussions from our own free speech will inevitably restrict other people from also expressing themselves freely.

The good news is that the universe is expanding and that we are advancing as a species technologically and intellectually. Our range of freedom will only continue to increase. We will still have limits on freedom, but we will have more of it than we once did and more room to express ourselves freely, including the ability to speak hatefully without affecting others as much. Praise the future!

Victoria (2015) Review

Have you ever watched Birdman?

You know, that movie that everyone raved about because of how seamless it felt, and it looked like the camera never even cut. It was truly impressive which is why it was awarded best picture for its year. However, a year before Birdman came Victoria, a film by Sebastian Schipper, in which a girl in a foreign city is paraded around town by a group of friendly guys, having a blast while committing small misdemeanors until eventually, just as every story does, the stakes heighten. Oh and did I mention it was shot in ONE SINGLE TAKE?!

None of that gimmickee bullsh*t you see in Birdman. They don’t ever pull the old, “super zoom into the door and cut” trick that fools us into thinking the shot never ended. No, this movie brings you from the first minute where we’re first introduced to Victoria, to the last, where we end our journey with her walking down the streets of Berlin, and it doesn’t stop rolling. Apparently, they got funding for just three tries (again three single takes), and third time was definitely the charm in this case.

Beyond just the accomplishment of successfully filming this German adventure in just one beautiful take, the story, acting, and camera work were all phenomenal. Do you realize how hard it is for a camera man to get fantastic shots when he’s been filming nonstop for two plus hours? It’s indescribably difficult and the fact that they were able to showcase such amazing camerawork whilst doing so is probably why the director made sure the cinematographers name was the first on the credits.

Couple all this with the raw, unfiltered acting from our five main protagonists and what you get is a one of a kind film that has been categorized as a must see. Laia Costa, who plays Victoria, wasn’t able to break out of character for the entirety of the two hour and twenty minute run time and boy did she do an exquisite job of not only remaining in, but becoming her character. Through all the heartbreak, frustration, excitement, ecstasy, and pure anxiety that this movie immerses you in, the actors hold firm to their roles, providing one of the more convincing stories we’ve ever seen.

Now, leave this page, find some way to watch this movie. Don’t look it up, read about it, or watch a preview, none of that. This isn’t a movie that you have to like, so no need to analyze whether or not you want to watch it, since you have to watch it. Sit back, press play, and enjoy the experience.

Verdict: 4.75/5