The Stairs That Lead Nowhere

A Demigod's Thirst

2011-11-05T00:31:00.000-04:00

As Bobbyseus traveled thus with Penelope and his men-at-arms, their party came upon a wry old man under the shade of a Bodhi tree. The old man, pointed his rheumatic finger at Bobbyseus, saying you are indeed the son of Zeus, wary thou must be to avoid the pitfalls en route to thine kingdom. Bobbyseus, though troubled by the words of the aged man, could afford to pay little heed to his words, thinking of course that such pitfalls meant the presupposed battle with Demophon and Usurpius. Onward the demigod trekked, his woman and warriors following behind as he struck any who attempted to pass him. As they passed field and vale, Bobbyseus began to thirst and called to a nearby field hand. “ Lo! Come and allow me to slake mine thirst with thine drink”. Little did the god-man know that Hades had taken the form of a field hand as part of his dastardly plot. The field hand handed Bobbyseus the amphora of wine saying, “This is indeed strong fermented juice of the grapevine. Much of its fructose hath been converted to ethanol by yeast.” Bobbyseus said nothing and drank the whole hardened clay container in one gulp. To Hades’ surprise the hero still stood before him unaffected. With words unslurred ere the alcohol entered his divine bloodstream, Bobbyseus called for more of it. Hades summoned yet another amphora and then another. Bobbyseus’ power grew with each container, soon he was spewing words of insight about human nature and why mortals sucketh. Then he spaketh of his love for Penelope. Finally he became surly and filled with rage for Hades had run out of amphorae. Hades thought to himself, “Alas my plan has failed! I have given him Athenian Gentleman, the greatest poison in all the land. Perhaps he cannot be felled by such a mortal concoction.” Hades was nothing if not cunning (from the Middle English cunting which in turn yields the modern English c-word), and soon devised a plan B, which reminded him he needed to stop by the agora and pick up some for Persephone. He gave unto Bobbyseus a small vial containing a protein shake of ambrosia and nectar. Bobbyseus in his great wisdom, took the vial without a chaser and then shattered the empty vessel upon the earth in a fit of rage. His work done, Hades headed to the nearest agora and Bobbyseus staggered forward leading his company towards the city of Argos and thereby, his destiny.

The Bobbysiad : The Road Less Taken

2011-09-20T01:50:00.000-04:00

“ Όλοι οι δρόμοι οδηγούν στη Θήβα, αλλά μόνο ένας στο θρόνο”

Bobbyseus heeded well the words with which Mentor had parted from this life, taking the road less traveled by towards the city. He carried Penelope upon his back for the fates had decreed that chivalry could not die so long as Bobbyseus lived. On the second day of their trek, the young couple stopped to eat a picnic lunch on the banks of the Brandywine River under the ample shade of a Kauri tree. While lost in each other’s eyes, an all too common phenomenon, a party of ants stole away with their food. Enraged, Bobbyseus hauled off after them, each stride as long as a man’s life. He followed his quarry to a large boulder composed of gneiss, a metamorphic rock. Upon the boulder, in a script that had seen too many winters, was written thus: “Όποιος ανελκυστήρες αυτό το βράχο και ανακτά το δόρυ του Αχιλλέα πρέπει να είναι βασιλιάς, ”. “What that I could but know the meaning of such characters! This script is so ancient that I cannot read it!” exclaimed Penelope. “There are few now who can,” explained Bobbyseus. “It is written in the language of Homer, which by the grace of Athena I can read. It says whosoever lifts this stone and retrieves the spear of Achilles shall assume his mantle.”

“His mantle? Wasn’t Achilles king of Thebes?” questioned Penelope. “I see now why Mentor had me travel via this forgotten road,” spake the half mortal. With that Bobbyseus began to power up. With his knees bent at slightly less than ninety degrees, the massive glutes and quads of the demigod tore rock from earth. A resounding flex of his massive traps and posterior delts flipped the boulder above his head. Now with a grunt yet to be rivaled in the gyms of men, Bobbyseus heaved the boulder into the air. The boulder landed a short distance away splitting in two, an outward manifestation of the dual nature of Bobbyseus. The brazen glint of Achilles’ Spear caught the azure gaze of the demigod. Bobbyseus then bent to retrieve it. Hearing a rustling behind him, he leapt around, wielding the spear with the skill of Achilles after consuming multiple amphorae of sierran dew. To his shock, before him stood hundreds of fully armed warriors, having taken their current form by transforming from ants. Wary, he said unto them, “Though your numbers are many, so are the fibers of both my morals and muscles. If ye are not friend, then you can join my foes in Hades.”

The first warrior came forward, lowering his sword and shield. “We pray that you find us to be the former, son of Zeus. We are Myrmidons, battle companions of Achilles. We were fated to remain as ants upon this earth until the heir of Achilles came forth. We are ready to serve you as we did Achilles.” With that the Myrmidons knelt before Bobbyseus, proclaiming their loyalty. Though taken aback, Bobbyseus now realized that with these warriors at his side, he may well be able to defeat the malevolent forces of Demophon and unseat his uncle Usurpius from the Theban throne.

SM - A Note from Zeus, the Stair Master

2011-09-05T11:13:00.000-04:00

Upon the hundreth post on the Stairs that Lead Nowhere, a most worthy blog, I, Lord Zeus, father of Bobby Seus, do hear by comandeth my son to construct me a living room couch-fort worthy of the Gods.

Taste My Lightning!

The Bobbysiad: Birth of Bobbyseus

2011-09-04T01:37:00.000-04:00

Into this epoch of great deeds came Zeus, Lord of Olympus. He traveled down to the realm of mortality to attend the feast of King Peleus of Thebes. Peleus, who had gained both renown and wealth in many battles, was known for the beauty of his daughter, Xanthippe. A youthful maiden of tender years, her beauty was said to rival that of Aphrodite. As such, Peleus had set his mind to marry her to King Brasidas of Sparta, thereby increasing his prestige. Xanthippe, for her part, wanted nothing to do with the aging tyrant of Sparta and wished only to follow her heart. Thus, when a golden youth appeared at the Feast of Anthesteria, she swooned over the new arrival. King Peleus was wary of this newcomer and attempted to send him away, but Xanthippe reminded him of his duties as host. Thus, Peleus could only watch with dismay as Xanthippe fawned over the youth who not only consumed 4 racks of lamb, but polished off 5 amphorae of the choicest wine. As the Feast was ending, the youth presented a gift to King Peleus. Effervescent with nebulosity, the azure drink contained the essence of Morpheus, God of Dreams. Reluctantly taking the drink from the young man he despised, Peleus soon fell into a deep sleep. With Peleus out of the way, the youth led Xanthippe to the deserted courtyard wherein he revealed his divine nature. What followed could only be described as the Immaculate Failure of Contraception. Zeus’ divine nature came through and he made not just Eros to Xanthippe, but they made sweet Agape. When he was finished, Zeus made a prophecy unto her, “Ye and though I must leave you now, do not fear, for I have given you a child to remember me by. Nurture him well, and when the time is right reveal unto him that he is my son. He will be a child of destiny, whose name will one day ring out to all the ends of the Earth.” With that Zeus departed for Olympus, quickly combing his beard and using LISTERINE®, shouldest Hera suspect his infidelity by lack of product placement. Xanthippe, now exhausted from the virility of his lovemaking, fell into the most peaceful of slumbers.

Now in the days and weeks that followed, Xanthippe realized that she must conceal her embarrassment (from which we get the Latin word embarrasado meaning pregnant) from King Peleus, lest he put her out for harlotry. Soon, however, her swollen womb could no longer remain hidden under loose fitting togas and she was forced to admit her indiscretion before the King. In a tirade for the aegis, Peleus berated her with cries words of “loose woman! Whore! Salty Wench! Harlot! Painted Lady! and Trick!”. In her emotional duress, she began having contractions. In only a moment’s time, a child emerged in an aura of divinity. Peleus, now beside himself with rage, made to end the child’s short life with a knife. The infant, swaddled in the essence of the gods, caught Peleus’ hand and threw him to the ground with the strength of a grown man. The skies now opened up and the wrath of Zeus descended upon Peleus with a thunderbolt. As Peleus collapsed in a smoldering heap of charred flesh, a voice spaketh from the heavens saying, “This is my son, who shall be called Bobbyseus! To those who would oppose him, look to Peleus as a model!” The people of Thebes bowed before Xanthippe and Bobbyseus and paid him homage. Below the Earth, however, the all-pervading silence was broken by the rage of Hades. You see, Hades coveted Xanthippe and was yet again outdone by his brother Zeus. In his fury, he vowed that Bobbyseus would not reside for long in the land of the living. DUN DUN DUNNNN

The Bobbysiad: Autolochus Begins The Story

2011-08-30T01:46:00.000-04:00

As the fleeting twilight melded into the realm of Selene, the bacchanalian atmosphere faded to demure recollection. The sound of laughter yielded to the strumming of lyres and enough yarns were spun to put Arachne to shame. For one poet, however, only the greatest of tapestries would suffice. “Hand me my lyre, boy, so that it may speak to those gathered here”. As Proteus fetched the gilded lyre of Autolochus of Elea, he tittered with anticipation. Autolochus, though blind to the world of men, could see a story through to its end with the skill of Apollo and the grace of Hermes. Taking his lyre from the boy, Autolochus began strumming. A translucent aura emanated from the instrument binding listener to story, as Prometheus to mountainside. Autolochus began, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Best in that heroes still walked the earth, the opportunity for valor still lying beyond the next hill. Worst too, in that there was a dire need for these heroes. For the world was a more dangerous place than we can now imagine. Monsters and creatures abounded, the likes of which I have never seen.” The crowd sighed, as Autolochus enjoyed drawing attention to his lack of sight at the expense of his audiences’ comfort. “I tell you not of Hercules, of Bellerophon, nor of Theseus, nor Achilles, nay, I tell of a man greater than them all.” The crowd was on edge, knowing exactly of whom Autolochus spake. “I tell you of BOBBYSEUS! son of ZEUS! first among both gods and mortals! And where better to begin….than the Beginning,”.

Soi Dog of the Week #2--Table Dog

2011-08-29T06:31:00.000-04:00

Soi Dog of the Week & his Table

DK - Soi Dog of the Week

2011-08-18T01:16:00.000-04:00

Hi friends,

It is nice to see everyone blogging again. Soi dogs (street dogs) are lots of fun in Thailand. I've decided that I'll try and keep up with a "Soi Dog of the Week."

Note: Soi Dogs in Thailand are not as pitiful as you would think. In fact, they're generally quite well fed, happy and well behaved. Its like having 10,000 Wandas in your yard. Except they don't snack as much as Wanda.

So, here's Week 1: Soi Dog of the Week

Urinal #1 is a Soi Dog

Cheers,

SM - Stair Master

2011-08-18T01:12:00.000-04:00

Hello everyone,

I am the stair master. Not to be confused with the stair master, bun improving workout machine. Recently, TSTLN has been rather neglected. However, upon attempting to log back in, the blogging Gods questioned even MY identity, and sought credentials demonstrating my right-to-climb the stairs. I was confronted by several strict security questions--one of three options was to be chosen.

1) What is your E-mail? Hint: D**********2
2) What is your phone number? Hint: 5********7
3) Can you answer this security question?

I took a gamble on number the third.

Question: Do you want to eat cookies?
Answer: ...[pause, soul search]........Yes

Welcome back, The Stairs that Lead Nowhere!

Such security measures are to be envied! In fact, I believe that this can best be likened to the advent of the Harry Potter series. A video is worth several million words, so see for yourself.

Sorcerer's Stone Ending

All the Best,
SM

CW: The Mexican Umbrella

2011-08-16T00:36:00.000-04:00

This summer, as I wait to start my adventure in NYC as a volunteer counselor, I am cleaning out my closet that has not been touched in 4 years (as well as working in a chair factory - possible future post; "The American Dream: An Account of a Real-Life Rosie the Riveter). Not to my surprise, I have been welcomed with many memories: pictures from 3rd grade, old love letters, empty handles of Vladimir vodka, and a folder full of poems and stories I had written in grade school.

My dear friends, I am sure I have told you about the legend (wait for it....) ary poem I wrote in 8th grade where my teacher commented, "Awesome, Just Awesome!!" and where my Mom-Mom, to this day, insists I get it published. Well, I have found that poem. So I present to you without further ado...

"The Mexican Umbrella"

Mexico is not a good place to be an umbrella.

This is the reason why I’m such an unlucky fella.

So, let me tell you my hunky-dory story,

I hope it’s self-explanatory.

Mexico’s weather is hot like a fire.

There’s never any rain, which struck my desire,

To be more beneficial at another place,

So I no longer may feel like a disgrace.

Don’t tell anyone, but yes I admit,

That I was green with envy toward that nitwit.

Oh yes, that coat was always allowed to go outside,

While I was left tattered and teary-eyed.

Going outside only when it rains,

Can make an umbrella start to complain.

This is why I was extremely resolute

To get out of this place, even by parachute!

The suddenly came the moment I had always hoped for.

My life would no more be a bore.

My owner told me, “It’s time for you to be boxed!”

Pound! Before I knew it I was deadlocked.

She then drove dreadfully for what seemed like a year.

Abruptly, the brakes went slam! Like the brakes of a train engineer.

The words Salvation Army are what I first saw,

And I was so excited like a child in awe.

Days went by as I just lay on the table.

I was beginning to think that I was mislabeled.

Nobody even gave me a second glance.

The opportunity that I may be bought was a fat chance.

Unexpectedly, a handsome young man picked me up.

I was so nervous, for this was my first close up.

But, the man was so friendly and benign.

He then walked me over to the check out line.

It has been several months since that great match,

And we have forever been attached.

I am always being used outside,

Together, we travel far and wide.

“Umbrella, you’re the greatest object that I have ever had!”

I reply telling him, “Oh no, I’m just a fad.”

Every day we get along so well, like a snake and its rattle.

This relationship is balanced well in since it rain all the time in Seattle!

Two days after I found this simple 10 stanza poem, I found my final 32 page paper I wrote last semester for my psychology capstone class. Oh, education...

P.S. I also found a short story I wrote in the midst of the 2002 Salt Lake City Winter Olympics titled, "Go For It!" a tale of how my sister and I drop out of school to become bobsled olympians. If my life had gone according to plan, I would have won an olympic gold medal in 2010 and be engaged to speedskater, Apolo Ohno.

JG: Islanders.

2011-08-14T14:25:00.000-04:00

Please help.

The NY Islanders are not getting their new arena. Sure, they suck, and sure, who cares about hockey, but I have the foresight to see what’s actually happening here, and it could prove devastating to the 118-mile we stretch we lovably call Long Island.

As well documented on GetOffOurIsland.com, the rampant expansion of Jersey-Shore-type-folk (colloquially guidos) is undeniable, taking a virtual stranglehold over Nassau County and slowly permeating into Suffolk, as they inevitably passed by a few bars they realized they needed to ruin as they headed east to the Hamptons for a few ‘Guns Out’ weekends.

How The Guido Stole Christmas

As the end of the world steadily approaches & an angry God keeps sending erratic weather patterns, erosion is a huge problem for Lady Long Island. With this, the width of the isle is decreasing, thus people must jockey for positioning & power, and with the size of the guido population rising, it’s turning into some kind of fucked-up, fist-pumping version of Lord of the Flies. And they’re not having trouble seizing power either, considering the only people left in Nassau are guidos, old & cranky folk, and the Koster family.

What I’m getting at here is this: the Islanders at Nassau Coliseum represented a mecca where thousands of regular white guys who like to get drunk & yell things at other white guys could congregate together. Though all we are technically losing is one shitty hockey team, it meant so much more to so many, and is a huge blow in the efforts to prevent our Island’s social makeup from consisting solely of blowouts, in-your-face-go-fuck-yourself attitudes, zero respect for elders (or children), no bar manners, energy drink consumers, and whatever the opposite of chivalry is. (Seen below: The craze corrupting our youth... whatever happened to Pokemon cards?)

Bottom line is: I want to walk into a pizza place and see a cute, chubby little Italian man tossing rounded dough into the air and talking like he’s Super Mario. I do not want to walk in and hear some tan, sleeve-less, hollow, no-condom-wearing twentysomething start loud conversations with phrases such as, “Yo, I was talking to this one bitch last night…” and telling 17-year-old patrons, “Yo, baby, you should come out with me sometime, if you come out with me – we get crazy.”

So I’m not sure what exactly this is: It is, of course, meant to spread awareness, as well as a call to arms (and creativity) to help buck this trend. Perhaps, if the Islanders can stay close by, it can be one small step back in the right direction.

CR: Blovel

2011-08-07T17:42:00.000-04:00

Be warned that this blog is literally littered with tons of bullspit. Take (I highly advise against) or leave what you will of this purely silly work of brilliance. Think cute puppies from the pound and black bottom (or red velvet) cupcakes while reading this. You’ll get it. This is my Blovel (Blog/Novel). Oh yeah I’m a business major, so writing is non-of-my-business. Jajajaja Please excuse minute and inconsequential spelling/grammatical errors. : p

Chapter Neung- Baltimore to Bangkok 101

It’s been awhile blogosphere. I’m sorry for my abrupt exit from your thoroughly informative WebPages. But to be blunt; Blogging Sux!!! It’s just not cool anymore. In the past years, blogging has hit an all time high. Everyone is blogging. Therefore if everyone is doing it, I don’t want to do it. Therefore I have found a new means for my socially needy self. I’ve been hitting the public libraries and hanging out with the seedy characters that tend to occupy them. I recall not too long ago browsing the vast corridors of the Baltimore City Enoch Pratt Central library. If you have not been to this library, you must. It’s an architectural jem! There are librarians and intricate murals sprawled out on the ceilings and plenty of secret places to take naps. Moreover, there are books on colonial economics, vintage Frommer’s: Southern Sudan guide books, and every Britannica encyclopedia to date!!! But let’s not get caught up on those trivial things. Those are for those with a smaller appetite for relevant knowledge. But back to my nostalgia. In my youth, I would share my time and space with the homeless population that enjoyed hanging out at the libraries during the day. You might say, “Homeless people and libraries, how silly Winston?” I would say, “Yes, yes how truly appalling my dear Elizabeth.” This was my exact subconscious exchange the first time I entered this library. But time did tell the truth about this rather peculiar partnership. I finally realized that I had found my new means of social interaction that was neither popular, clean, or demanded I needed a job. I had discovered the most hipster of hipsters; a subculture that defied society. But something was different with these knowledge thirsty urbanites. Their subtly was amazingly refreshing. They knew how to detach themselves from the technological constraints (blogs…man, forget blogs, man) that have started to hinder human interaction. It was so refreshing to see their youthful spirit. Seeing one of my new friends, “Wild” Kevin napping on a pile of Bernstein Bears, reminded me of a young teen catching some zzzzz’s on his “Compiled Works of John Donne”. Dude, the similarities were astounding!!! So independent!!!! I envied my new friends and their lifestyle.

Chapter Soi 2. - Enoch Frattttttttttt

The philanthropist Enoch Pratt was a prime example of the success that an industrious American can have. A true “Rags to Riches” story. Perhaps “Hags (Haggar khakis) to Fitches (Abercrombie?)” for those middle class bros, or a more Baltimorean influence, “(Body) Bags for Snitches”.

This is the life that American’s should aspire to. Working hard in order to change your fortunes and consequently allowing you to do whatever you want (Amurica!!!). In the end, Sir Enoch did what any good human being would have done. He gave back all that he had rightly worked earned. He established the free library system that still exists in Baltimore City. His legacy is never-ceasing due to this. But this is getting boring so let’s get to the point. Dr. Pratt’s established the libraries so that it, “shall be for all, rich and poor without distinction of race or color who, when properly accredited, can take out the books if they will handle them carefully and return them." Yeah this is straight from the Britannica Encyclopedia’s Volume 14 not some super convenient accumulation of knowledge on the internet. I would like you to take note of the last part on handling them carefully and returning them. This will be important for my point later.

Chapter Katoey 3- AAA

So the last two chapters of my Blovel have been complete filler because I didn’t know what to talk about till now. An old friend of mine, who suffered from a mild case of schizophrenia and tended to chill in the American USA history section at the Enoch Pratt library, once warned me she didn’t think that the US economy could sustain so much debt. She told me those “Bitches better start paying those China men theirs monies or else theys gonna get theirs shits pushed in. Then the Man gonna come and take yo cardboard box, yo cart, and your life-time savings of soda pop cans.” As usual I laughed off old Ms. Phyllis’s comment about the US economy.

“Ha, I thought. I’ve taken an introduction to macroeconomics course (at College ha-ha C-o-llege). What do you know?” During my zone out, Ms. Phyllis started a debate amongst herself about the sustainability of US debt. It was quite interesting hearing both of her outlandish opinions. Spending cuts or tax hikes??? Being the super duper independent I just didn’t care. “Whatever, Phyllis you are both wrong.” I said. “America is like totally fine, they just need some more outstanding America indie/folk bands. We keep importing these fantastic musical products from across the pond, but we only export our junk bands (pun of bonds) like Bon Jovi and Flo Rida.” At this point Phyllis, has started talking about the world been getting hot. “Oh Phyllis.”

Chapter Cuatro

Once again I hoodwinked you readers. This blovel is a complete waste of time. You are better off Google searching pictures of Kate Upton or “Are animals ticklish?” But in all seriousness, the current state of the world has reminded me of a few of things that had perked my interest a few years ago. Not to be pretentious or anything, but for those who do not know the world economy is not doing so well. More importantly the US’s credit rating has been downgraded to a measly AA+ rating. There is a terribly devastating drought and therefore famine in Eastern Africa. And Adele says she is going “country” for her third album (her career is over). All this news is truly depressing but nothing’s new. The US economy will be fine. Adele will be fine; she’ll get some good advice from a particular hipster somewhere in Texas.

Homeless man or Taylor DeBoer??? Both!!!!

Yep all is well, except, one thing. The Famine. WTF?? A famine…that shit happened in the Bible. Famines are one of those things that should have been eradicated like smallpox. I’m no self-proclaimed expert on famine or the reasons for famines, but famines, what, famines!?!? We live in the 21^st century; our technology and advances in agricultural science, logistics, and distribution should make famines nearly impossible. I understand that there are numerous factors such as the drought (creating a shortage in food), political instability, and poverty. Ideally, there are plenty of resources in the world for enough to go around (numerous times). It’s quite frustrating witnessing such sad events especially when they should never had occurred. Food and water are the absolute most basic physical human needs. It’s shameful that there are people that must deal with such unthinkable hardships.

So the combination of the economic and social adversities, reminded me of a book that I read not too long ago. The book that I read was called “Dead Aid” by Dambisa Moyo. Moyo is an Oxford and Harvard educated economist and author. In this book, she comments on the affects of Western aid in Africa. Her main argument is that the Aid is crippling to the progress of many of the African nations. This is a very very simple summary of the situation that is occurring in Africa currently. Moyo says that the Aid has been a crutch for the fragile economies leading to their dependence on the Aid. Therefore there is a viscous cycle of dependence and reliance for sustainability.

An example to better illustrate what is happening is, imagine that you have a brother that you love so very much. But your brother loves to hang out with “the wrong” crowd (those closet-freaks known as librarians) at the local library. So you represent the Western nations that provide aid to the African countries, your brother represents the people of the African nations, and the Librarians represent the governments of African nations. So you love your brother a lot so you give him a nickel to run down to the local pharmacy for a Coca-cola fizz. Filled with joy, he sprints out of the front door and down Mulberry Lane to Mr. Wilkin’s General Store. Little Roosevelt (your brother’s name…you should have known this since he’s your brother) is running like the wind. Eyes wide with the prospect of a fizzy threat, he hastens his pace. But wait, he’s an awkward kid and his brain is moving faster than his feet. Bam-Kaboom- crash!!! Roosevelt falls…into a group of kids that were up to no good in the neighborhood. “ Shitttt the Librarians,” Roosevelt thinks.

Blah blah blah. Roosevelt starts to hang out with the Librarians. The attractive yet intelligent Librarians convince Roosevelt that he shouldn’t spend his nickel on his soda pop but on their needs (books on Kama sutra, Ticonderoga pencils, and drive-thru movies). So your brother really loves soda fizz (food, water, shelter); he needs it. But then there are the Librarians (government) that take that money which is for your brother (the people) and use it for what they want (guns, cocaine, sunglasses, Super bowl tshirts). So this continues, until You (westerns) stop giving the money. Then the Librarians (who are hypothetically unemployed/lazy) will stop wasting Roosevelt’s (the peoples) soda pop (food, water) money. Ok, hopefully Roosevelt’s story helped to give you some clarity on this issue.

So moving on, this book (“Dead Aid”) was very interesting, and there were some very interesting economic and social comments. The basic logic of this social and economic injustice is sound. But a combination of the current global atmosphere and my experience with this book, reminded me of a certain company that tries to encourage economic development and therefore social advancements. The company is called Kiva (I’m sure you have heard of it). Kiva is a micro financing company that helps to connect lenders with borrowers in second and third world countries. Micro financing is when a lender gives a small loan ($25-$500) to a borrower who usually would not have the access to financing options (banks, clearinghouses, etc.). In some countries, there is not an established or a poorly implemented economic layout. This lack of financing options might hinder growth because the people are unable to afford running their businesses. Therefore Kiva and other micro financing companies fill this role. They allow normal people such as us to lend money to people that need it.

This is different from Aid because it empowers the people to work hard and it also gives them the resources to develop their businesses and therefore change their lives for the better. As in any economic discussion, there is a side that disagrees in any positive results from micro financing activities. But my argument is that it is a lot more productive and intimate means of helping other people like us around the world. If you would like to discuss this further with me, let me know so that I can say, “Go forget yourself.” But then I’d be like ok, meet me at the Enoch Pratt library on the third floor.

Chapter 5

So I’ve said a lot of nothing so far. This blovel has tried to encompass a very broad range of topics. Through this all this ballyhoo there is a true sincerity of the issues. Kiva is a great company that is trying to address a hugely deprived sect of people. Just thinking hypothetically, just think about how much disposable income we have. Instead of getting five pad thais to challenge yourself or buying an entire Thai soccer uniform for novelty, you could help financing a Peruvian’s llama hat making business or a young woman’s newspaper company.

At the least, your actions would be noble. Even if the entrepreneurs are unable to payback their small loans, it is a small risk for us; those that live in somewhat luxury, and not famine. I know you all as great people that are very selfless. That’s why I appreciate you as a blogspherical family. I urge you to just browse the website or research micro-financing yourself. If you want to try out micro financing with absolutely no risk, follow this link, nigerianmailingscam@snailmail.aol or if you don’t trust that one use this one( the legit on) http://kiva.org/invitedby/christopher6525

This Blovel is not in anyway “hating” on the hardships of the homeless. I am honestly concerned about their well-being. Also hipsters are cool, but don’t let this comment make you reconsider cool. Never ever consider anything as truth without double checking. A pinch of doubt helps everything go down well. Libraries are breeding grounds for knowledge. I also drastically generalized about African nations for the sake of Roosevelt’s tale.

God Bless You Roosevelt!!! R.I.P. and that’s why you don’t fool with Librarians.

MM: LUM Alums

2011-06-07T16:43:00.001-04:00

A few days ago, a TSTLNer sent a desperate cry out into the Facebookosphere. The one and only Chris Topher Robinson called, “The Stairs That Lead Nowhere Bloggers! BLOG!” And thus, I shall.

But what to blog about all these months later? So much has happened to all of us TSTLNers since Shauna’s last inspirational post. Most importantly, we are no longer “Loyola University Maryland students with nothing important to say” but “Loyola University Maryland alumni that should probably start saying something important because we are real people now.” Ew.

Saying goodbye to college was no fun. One of the only cool things about it is that we can call ourselves Lum Alums which sounds funny. But I was proud of our ability to cram in as much food dates, movie-watching, Wii bowling and Truth-or-Lieing, hanging out, (competitive) drinking, and other fun things into the final months of our collegiate careers as we could. We went out with a bang (see below).

But enough reminiscing. It is time to move forward. Immediately after graduation I kept telling myself, “I’m too little to be a real person!” While I still think this is true, the show must go on. And so, I will use this kind-of-second-inaugural blog post to give all the readers that probably stopped checking us out a long time ago an update on where we all are/going.

TSTLN creator DK is one of a few Stairs people that has peaced out of America for some country called Thailand to teach university students English things. I have yet to really talk to him so I really have no idea what he is up to over on the other side Earth. But I’m sure he’s changing the world in the typical DK-way.

JF is also in Thailand spreading his wisdom to the students lucky enough to step into his classroom. He had to shave his beard so the Bruins will probably lose in the Stanley Cup finals. There’s always next year!

PT is currently holed up in Wisconsin playing guitar and having a drink or two while he waits for his car to be repaired after a run-in with a deer. This is just one of the stops on his cross country trip to discover his inner self through nature and solo jam sessions in his faithful car. He will come back a changed man (but of course the same old Pat we know and love).

JG is chillin’ on Long Island and has an internship that involves parks, so he’s basically Tom Haverford from Parks and Rec.

CR is another Teach for Thailand-er. He reports that the food is wonderful and very inexpensive and says that DK is now “DK baby poo poo pants.” I cannot wait to play Sea Battle with him.

TD is preparing for an extended stay in the wonderful state of Texas, where he will jam out and work on his music. Six Pack At The Circus reunion tour anyone??

CW is spending the summer in the greatest place on Earth, suburban Philadelphia, and then will be relocating to NY for a volunteer counseling job. Go-a Christie-a!

KG is in Thailand as well, eating lots of chicken and rice (yum!) and teaching little Thais how to use Paint on computers. Changing lives one lesson at a time.

BB is MIA. I’ve texted him a few times but to no avail. Maybe he has taken up residence at the Warrior Emporium in Fed Hill? I’m not sure one can go in there and ever come out.

SB is currently living with me in Baltimore! She holds the most jobs and will be going to Loyola for grad school. So far she has been a wonderful roommate and I’m glad I have her around to laugh with while watching The Bachelorette and cry with while watching Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition.

Which leaves me, MM. I’m living in Baltimore and working for a seafood restaurant even though I don’t really like seafood. But it’s money. I’m brainstorming for an idea to win the Pulitzer Prize so I can have lots more money and visit New Zealand again. But until then I’ll settle for any internship I can find. Sorry I don’t have anything more interesting to report – in due time.

Until the next TSTLNer awakes from their blogging slumber…

Peace out!

Meag

SB: Shona-isms

2010-11-11T00:40:00.000-05:00

Friends not Foes.
Variety is indeed, the spice of life.
Life should be a musical. Prime example, Elf. I’m in a store and I’M SINGING!
4 year olds are sadists. I’m all about babes but if I got one of them, I’m gonna do my best to lease it out for a year until it grows out of the evil phase. I advise you to do the same
Samwise Gamgee is the true hero of Lord of the Rings. He is not in love with Frodo, he is just THE best friend in all the land.
Produce is a very scary thing.
Hand written letters are a forgotten art form.
On a happy note, Muppets. Jim Henson you are a genius. There’s nothing the muppets can’t do! Take Manhattan, Treasure Island, manamanoh! So much joy! MANAMANOH
Email and facebook on a phone is stupid. If you get your email and facebook on your phone then what’s the point of having a computer? To make spreadsheets and word documents? Bitch please.
If you find glitter on your face, it means you are happy.

JG: Aidan's Monsters

2010-11-01T22:21:00.000-04:00

So, I am currently buying a picture of Gill Man. Not only is he my favorite character in the 80's classic The Monster Squad, but it is in support of possibly the coolest charity I've heard of (and I read about it first on Barstool of all places). The charity, Aidan's Monsters, is to support Aidan, a 5-year old boy recently diagnosed with leukemia. Below is a little more about him:

"Aidan is no ordinary 5 year old boy, in fact he is quite extraordinary. What sets him apart from most kids is his love for all things scary. He loves monsters, clowns, drawing, and dressing up. He does not wait for Halloween to roll around to have an excuse to wear a costume. And you better believe while in costume he will break character for nothing.

Another thing that makes Aidan different than most children is that on September 13, 2010 he was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL). He was strong and pulled through his first round of chemo all while teasing his nurses and vistors. Although this was a small victory Aidan, unfortunately, must go through 2 to 3 more years of chemo treatments and everything that goes along with that."

After considerations to sell the house due to staggering medical bills, the family decided to start selling some of Aidan's absolutely fantastic drawings of monsters to help offset the impact of the costs. The art is not only for a great cause, its all awesome as well.

So far, he is reportedly doing well. Though, just two weeks ago he was diagnosed with a Staph infection that is postponing his chemo for a month. The charity is also thriving, gaining lots of popularity and significantly improving the family's situation.

Prints are 8.5x11 and are an absolute steal at just $12.00 American dollars. I'm going to get Gill Man, but there's some pretty sweet ones, like this Mr. Potato Head.

Check out these links:
Learn About Aidan
Buy The Monsters!!

MM: The Sing-A-Long Man

2010-11-01T11:18:00.000-04:00

This weekend some TSTLNers and I traveled to our nation's capital to explore the Georgetown nightlife with our dear friend GTP and to check out the Stewart/Colbert rally. I don't have time to recap, but I thought I'd share this video of an inspiring DC Metro bonding experience. As people packed themselves into the Metro cars, sacrificing their personal bubble all to have their sanity and/or fear restored, Stairs blogger JF fulfilled one of his life-long dreams and became known to all in the Metro car as "Sing-a-Long Man."

Not pictured in video: Man who whipped out a harmonica to accompany the beautiful singing.

I hope everyone had a fantastic Halloween!
Peace out,
Meag

PS. Just one of many awesome signs at the rally:

Kanye West Has Lost His Fucking Mind, And I Love Every Second Of It

2010-10-24T15:58:00.001-04:00

Soooooo Kanye "I'm A Crazy Person" West decided to make a 30-minute movie called Runaway in order to promote his new single Runaway (the movie features new Kanye West songs, including the single Runaway). I decided to document my experience...

Runaway: An “As I Watch It” Description

Open on Kanye running. Cut to Kanye in an expensive car, speeding through the woods. Kanye rapping in the background of course. With only a few deer as witnesses, shit goes down. Fire everywhere, the car destroyed. The news thinks a comet has hit the earth, but in front of his car Kanye finds a beautiful winged-woman lying in front of his car. Clad in only the wings on her back and the trace amounts of feathers that wrap around to cover her naughtiest of parts, she awakes in Kanye’s apartment. She sees the news, which is explaining its theory. The TV is shut off, and Kanye has his first line: “First Rule In This World Baby, Don’t Pay Attention to Anything You See on the News.”

Boom. More music. More images of explosions. The winged outer space woman, who has two yellow, extra long fingernails on each hand, begins crawling around Kanye’s backyard, which features a rabbit, a sheep, and one of the deer from earlier. Inside, she does some sort of erotic dance. Kanye takes her to see fireworks. A marching band plays, but we don’t hear them over Rihanna. She laughs. There appears to be a giant blow-up Michael Jackson head in the center of the marching band.

Back home. Silence. She is very intrigued by an ornate mug.

More Kanye music. Cut to a long white dinner table in a large, otherwise empty warehouse. Everyone at dinner wears a nice white suit or dress, except of course for the unnamed woman from outer space with wings – though she does appear to have her hair done nicer and a brand new golden headpiece. She smells her soup, then picks up what looks like a bejeweled loaf of bread.

FUCKING EXCELLENT.

A woman just served water, then got silent, and the man next to Kanye looks at him and says, “Your Girlfriend is really beautiful.”

Kanye: “Thank You.”

Man: “Do You Know She’s A Bird?” (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Kanye: “Nah I Never Noticed That.” (NOO FUCKING WAY!!!!!!!)

Man: “I mean, like, is a monkey in a zoo?”

END. Yes. Holy Shit. Yes. Great Fucking Dialogue. This is fucking CHAOS!

Kanye walks to a random piano and hits a few keys. About twenty ballerinas run into the room. Back to Music. Plays that song that goes “Let’s Have a toast for the douche bags…” and they dance to it. The winged woman… err… bird watched intently in the background. Everyone toasts but her. It’s been a few minutes since I’ve seen any explosions – have they gone away from that? Line of note in the song: “24/7, 365, Pussy stays on my mind.” Lots of ballerina close-ups. Dragging on a lot, this is probably their big break. The Shins ballet idea was definitely ripped from Kanye. Oh my goodness who wants to get this on a big screen and have a viewing party?? It’s just one ballerina now, having a pretty long and intense solo. Kanye gives a half-bow with his hand over his heart. Everyone seems pleased as the ballerinas run out.

Back to dinner. NO WAY. They serve a giant turkey RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER!!! Her wings, now fully extended for the first time, are revealed to be fucking huge and begin to flutter. She backs up and starts crying and doing some weird bird scream thing as more Kanye music starts. Side Note: she now has long fingernails on all her fingers.

Cut to explosions – Phew, I was getting nervous. She is depressed and sitting next to the sheep. Cut to clouds.

Bird-Woman: “Can I ask you a question? All the statues that we see, where do you think they came from?”

Kanye: “I think that artists carved them years and years ago.”

Bird-Woman: “No. They Are Phoenix Turned To Stone.”

Kanye: (laughs) “Baby…

Bird-Woman: (interrupts) “They are phoenix turned to stone. Do you know what I hate most about your world? Anything that is different you try to change. Try to tear it down. You rip the wings off the phoenix and they turn to stone. And if I don’t burn, I will turn to stone.”

Kanye: “What do you mean burn?” (Kanye’s voice honestly sounds like a 3-year-old’s)

Bird: “If I don’t burn I can’t go back to my world.”

Kanye: “But I don’t want you to go back to your world. I want you to stay here with me.” (Is this shit ripped out of a kids movie or something? Peter Pan, don't leave Neverland?)

Bird: “I have to go back.”

Kanye: No. I’ll Never Let You Burn.

END CONVERSATION. WOODS by Bon Iver starts playing as they kiss for the first time. Fantastic! Great segue!

Cut to the bird-woman riding him, though Kanye is still in a full suit. Only 6 and a half more minutes of this masterpiece. Cut to another explosion (I guess he came?).

Overhead shot of backyard pans to show Kanye waking up on his sidewalk in a blue suit and slipper shoes. He goes into a dead sprint into the woods. Cut to explosion where bird-woman arises as a Phoenix!!!!! Cut back to Kanye’s sprint from the movie’s opening. It’s still the song where he samples Woods. She is flying above the woods. Now she is wearing a golden chest piece over her breasts. Shit is going down. This is a fucking must-watch for everyone. What looks like a comet is soaring straight up in the air, but we all know it’s her, the unnamed bird woman from a different world, the phoenix.

The End.

FUCK. I wanted that shit to last forever. I was cheated of the last three minutes because I wasn’t anticipating the credits. Rookie mistake I guess. I do recommend listening to the ridiculous thing that plays during the credits.

Anyways, here's the movie... Do Enjoy...

Ps. Does anyone remember this?

DK: Vonnegut

2010-10-15T14:09:00.001-04:00

Thanks to (http://www.robertlpeters.com/news/?paged=5)

JG: Bars in Baltimore.

2010-09-22T23:06:00.001-04:00

Sooooo, someone had to do this, and since I’m better at procrastinating than all of you, here goes…

Since I arrived in the Charm City, I realized it was a place that could be very fun (the day I hit 21). I’ve longed to explore the city that a bench once described as ‘The Most Beautiful City in the World’. This is our last year here, and my first as a legal drinker. As much as I want to see everything I can, I also want to drink in as many places I can. I have finally drank in Powerplant, but at the end of the day it truly perturbs me that I’ve already been inside Favorite’s Pub approximately six times, so lets start moving. Here’s to exploration (and alcoholism).

Canton:

Looney’s:

It looks like a hole-in-the-wall, but apparently its pretty big and fun.

******My goal is to explore Canton this Friday, as I hear its great and any time I’ve been down there I’ve noted my desire to drink there. My plan is to get dinner and drinks at Mama’s (cool little seafood place next door) or Portside Tavern and then venture here and a few of the other bars. Hopefully all will join – expect mass texts soon.******

Portside Tavern:

No idea on price, but supposed to be a good time.

Fell’s Point:

Max’s Taphouse:

Now, I’ve wanted to go here since freshman year, but generally assumed I would not be allowed in. This will probably get a bit pricy, but the food menu is reasonable and they have happy hour specials during the week. Plus, it’s basically my beer heaven. Hell, it even has an A rating on the always-snooty Beer Advocate site.

Let’s go to the numbers: 3 bars in 1, 102 (yes, 102) beers on tap at any time, and a selection of approximately 1200 bottles from around the world.

Word.

J.A. Murphy’s:

Happy Hour Mon-Fri, 4-7p.m. = $1 shots of anything in the bar.

Slainte:

Apparently, this is THE place for day drinking (and soccer (and rugby)(is it acceptable to put ( ) within ( )?). Since we don’t live in Europe, there are basically soccer games played all day every day. This place shows them all (and some rugby) live, and ensures that you can always go and have a pint with some Pat Taylor-types (the common nomenclature is hooligans).

Cat’s Eye Pub:

Old school, music every night, supposed to be a great place to drink a beer.

Federal Hill:

The Abbey Burger Bistro:

Got voted the best burger in Baltimore… What else is there to say? Oh, there’s beer too. And apparently they’re big into Arsenal Futbol.

Random:

Hamilton Tavern: This seems more up me & DK’s alley – it’s not supposed to get too wild and apparently has a bangin’ without the G burger. (Hamilton)

Pratt Street Ale House:

Passed it and it looked cool. Apparently has 27 TVs and brews its own brew.

The Laughing Pint: This is a dive bar, apparently with some solid food and microbrews. This is meant solely for those who love Jerry’s Famous Tavern. There is no TV, but there is pool, board games, shuffleboard, and I’m pretty sure ping pong (yes!). The goal here is conversation, folks (calling all Jacob’s Lofters?). (near Canton)

Brewer’s Art:

Not sure where this is, but Shauna tells me I would like it, so I must go soon.

Random Events/Good Excuses to Day Drink

Oct. 2-3: Fells Point Fun Festival (Free)

(lots of shopping and a beer garden with live music)

Oct. 7-17: Baltimore Beer Week

(Random events at random bars for eleven random days)

Oct. 9: Octoberfest ($20)

(I think this is the day of Craig’s Bi-Annual Fest anyways, but just fattening up the list)

Sunday Oct. 17: 2010 Baltimore Beer Festival ($35)

All Saturdays & Sundays Through Oct. 24:

The Maryland Renaissance Festival

Ok, so this is about outside Baltimore (just outside Annapolis), but this sounds awesome, so let me know if anyone’s seriously interested. Tickets are $18. Check out their link… http://www.rennfest.com/index.php

A Brief Background of our Show: The Maryland Renaissance Festival has become the region's premier outdoor event and the second largest Renaissance Festival in the country. Since the Festival's first season as a ramshackle village in 1977, the event has matured into a large theme show with more than 1,300 participants and 280,000 guests per season.

The Maryland Renaissance Festival employs more than 600 people during each season, working in entertainment and customer service. Eighty-five acres of parking space handle an average of 14,700 customers daily. The English Tudor village is 25 acres of woods and field that transport patrons to an era of chivalry, bawdiness, and good fun. There are more than 130 craft shops displaying many wares handmade by the village artisans. Forty-two food outlets provide a feast of foods rarely seen at other festivals. Each season, more than half a million beverages are served at the Festival's eight soft drink stands, five beer stands, and five taverns.

More than a single business, the Festival attracts thousands of tourists and tour groups to the region. The Festival has twice been recognized by the American Bus Association as one of the 100 best events in North America. United States Department of Commerce figures show that special events generate $2.40 in the local economy for each $1.00 spent at the show. An exit poll reveals an extremely satisfied customer base with 99.6% saying they will return the following year.

The Maryland Renaissance Festival, more than a fun event of entertainment, food, crafts, and attractions, is a success that has exhibited continued growth without compromising customer satisfaction.

That's all for now... see you at high school drunk.

SB: The Adventures of Smeagol

2010-09-22T00:39:00.001-04:00

This is Smeagol at the Chinese Grauhman's Theatre

This is Smeogal at the In and Out burger eating a burger animal style. Yeah he's a carnivore.

This is Smeagol and I in front the treacherous Mount Doom!! EEEEK!

This is Smeagol in San Francisco with a foggy view of Alcatraz in the distance.

This is Smeagol in a fabulous lagoon in Rarotonga Cook Islands!

This is Smeagol on the Hobbiton set in Matamata New Zealand!

This is Smeagol in Beverly Hills. Classy fellow.

This is Smeagol getting in touch with some art. He's an intellectual.

PT: Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

2010-09-20T03:40:00.001-04:00

She took both my hands,
Looked me in my eyes
And said
"There's something I've wanted
to tell you for years.
I know you hate vodka
And I know you love beer.
You can hold your shit
But please don't boast
Always remember that

JORDI DRINKS THE MOST

MM: Oh Crap! My Book Just Died...I Gotta Go Plug It In And Recharge!

2010-08-31T15:57:00.000-04:00

The title to this post is a sentence that was never meant to be spoken in the past, present, or future of the universe.

I’m starting to realize that almost all of my posts on The Stairs are me complaining about change. I apologize. But I feel very strongly about this so here we go again…

A few days ago I went to Barnes and Noble with my mom because I wanted to buy a book and I knew if I went with her she would offer to buy it and I would insist that “no, no, I got it, don’t worry about it,” and then she still wouldn’t let me pay for it and I would get a free book. Win!

Anyway, we walked into the store and were greeted by a giant display counter with Nook stuff all over the place. For anyone who is not in-the-know on the latest technology, the Nook is this small rectangular device on which you can buy and read books. That’s about as technical as I can get describing it without making a fool of myself, but I can explain it in plenty of other ways. A tragedy in the world of literature. The end of books as we know it. One of the many steps society is taking toward a future of lazy, boneless individuals who are unaware of the simple pleasures of the world around them. Picture the future depicted in WALL-E. That’s what we’re headed for. All because of the Nook. (Let’s just hope WALL-E and Eeeeeeevvvvvaaaa will be around to save us from imprisonment within our lifeless bodies and unstimulated minds.)

My mom had been considering looking into buying one of these satanic devices for a while, so the display grabbed her attention. I made the mistake of abandoning her to go search for my book, and returned to find a Barnes and Noble employee asking her which cover she would like for her new Nook. NOOOOO!!!!!!

I’ll admit; the Nook guy was pretty convincing. If I wasn’t so opposed to change and a little bit less poor, I probably would’ve been walking out of there with a Nook too. My mom ate up everything he said, but my skepticism and love for books had me rolling my eyes as he exclaimed that you could buy a book in seconds and that it didn’t hurt your eyes and that it had a built-in dictionary. I got the impression the guy didn’t like me very much. But whatever, I will never turn to the Dark Side.

Unfortunately, for my mom to get anything out of her new Nook, she needed me to help her set it up. As most of you know, parents and technology should never be combined. While I didn’t want to enable the use of this blasphemous purchase, my mom had bought me a book before we left the store, and she would be providing me dinner for the next week, so I begrudgingly set up the device. I got to know the thing pretty well, so I think I am informed enough to argue against it. Here are just a few of my problems with the Nook and eBooks in general:

BOOK vs. NOOK

Something tells me the Monster Book of Monsters
wouldn't be the same as an eBook

1. The Nook can hold up to 1500 books and if you somehow own more than 1500 books there’s some backup archive thing so no worries!

That’s all fine and great, but it’s no replacement for an actual library. How are you supposed to build up a façade of intelligence and sophistication with shelves of Hemingway and Tolstoy and Faulkner for all the people that walk into your home if your books are contained inside 8x5 computer? Buying a Nook means you forgo the colorful covers and spines that give your book character and an identity. The Nook makes your favorite book just a few megabytes in a digital database that no one will ever see.

2. The Nook makes life easier for you: no need to lug heavy books around or even use the energy to turn pages! And you no longer have to get up off the couch and drive to your nearest bookstore the buy a book – just power up your Nook and download it in seconds!

It is true that the Nook does make reading-on-the-go way easier. There have been many times when I couldn’t decide which book I wanted to bring along on a journey, so I brought two or three, which take up a good amount of space in my bag. And the fact that you can put all your textbooks on it is pretty convenient. I cannot deny any of this. But I think having a backpack bursting with books as you run to catch the bus builds a lot of character, especially if it splits open and spills all your precious documents into a puddle. Children are now going to grow up to be a bunch of softies that complain if they have to carry anything more than a pound father than five feet.

3. The Nook is saving the environment! Less paper equals more trees, fresher air, less trash.

Yeah it’s saving the environment, but it’s also going to take away jobs from countless people. The companies that supply the paper, the companies that make the covers, the companies that bind everything together, the companies that print everything…I’m sure I could come up with a dozen others. And going back to the previous point, by eliminating the need to go to bookstores, the Nook actually eliminates the need to even have bookstores. Soon enough, that dude that sold my mom the Nook will be sitting on his couch, unemployed, cursing the Nook he is holding in his hands because he is out of a job and cannot even afford to buy anything on the blasted device.

4. The Nook charge lasts for about 10 days worth of reading (or 20 hours!).

Twenty hours of battery life is more than I would have estimated, but the fact that you have to recharge your book still baffles my mind. Like every piece of technology, the battery life will deteriorate and the system will start to lag and you’ll probably have to return it or get it fixed at least twice. This is not how reading is supposed to work! You’re supposed to be able to take books on the beach without worrying about getting sand on them. If you get caught in a thunderstorm and your book gets wet, that’s unfortunate but once you let it dry it has a nice weathered look to it and is still completely readable. Dropping your nook in some sand or dirt probably won’t end too well. In fact, I would guess dropping it at all isn’t advisable. And spill some water on it you’re out $150.

5. The Nook offers so many things that books never could: digital lending, a built-in dictionary, Wi-Fi that gives you instant access to pretty much every book ever written…

Here’s where I just throw up my arms and turn into an old person who says “what is this world coming too!? Back in the good ol’ days we drove to the library if we didn’t want to buy a book. Or we’d borrow one from friends. Or we’d save up and go to the bookstore and browse the shelves with the physical books right before our very eyes. Shelves and shelves of thousands of books! It was quite the sight…”

The dictionary is pretty cool though. But there’s always Google. Or an actual dictionary but that’s something that our grandparents can lament the obsoleteness off.

My main point is this: Nooks take away what books actually are – binded pages that tell a story. The essential parts of the book-reading experience are opening up to that first page, turning each one as you feel it beneath your fingertips, leaving a ticket stub or receipt in the spot you stopped reading. All of this disappears with the Nook. You have to press a power button to read your book. This is just absurd, I cannot put it any more eloquently. No matter how many times you read your favorite book on a Nook, it will never show the wear and tear and love that that book received. No more bent spines or dog-eared pages or coffee stains. Just an impersonal, weightless file on a computer.

To each his own, I guess. My mom is so proud of being more technologically advanced than me and makes a big show of stretching out on the couch and powering up her Nook every night when she reads. She’s happy, so I’ll let this particular Nook customer slide. But if you run across me ten years from now sitting on a bench reading from a Nook, please slap me in the face, steal it, and throw it in the nearest trashcan or body of water. I’ll be eternally greatful, I’m sure.

Peace out!

Meag

DK: Old Dudes that Rock

2010-08-30T01:08:00.003-04:00

This post is about old dudes that rock.

Wyatt Earp

Abel Tasman

Do ya homework.
Whoever JG and CR are, I wish ill upon you both.

PAZ. DK.

JF: A Poem for Toys R Us Kids

2010-08-16T23:22:00.000-04:00

Ed. Note: After reading Meag's post on graduation/general explosions of youthful glory, I decided to post this similiarly-themed poem I wrote last week. Also, this poem was originally written on my kickass typewriter. Enjoy.

Miracle Bubbles

Mother mixes soap & water in a stone washbasin
      & combs the mixture with a wooden fork.

You & I take turns raking the wind,
     berthing a stream of translucent planets,
     a rainbow in e v e r y o n e.
We haunch low beneath their wobbling orbit
     & do our best to break them on our nose-bridges,
     another miracle exploding into the afternoon sky.
You & I, we giggle like little kids
     because that’s what we are.

CW: Listen, I Just Don't Understand Domestic Animals

2010-08-16T19:02:00.000-04:00

I don’t know when I came to this realization, but I do not understand domesticated animals. Dogs, cats, ferrets, birds, fish… I don’t care if it’s swimming, running, flying, I just do not understand the appeal of having an animal live in your home. Many people rag on me about my anti-pet mindset, which prompts many debates where I just cannot win and conclude with saying, “different strokes for different folks” but not this time avid Stair readers!

Today I took the advice of MM and instead of packing for college I watched “Marley and Me”. Why would a person like me watch such a movie? Because I WANT to understand pets, more specifically…dogs. People freaking LOVE dogs! WHY?? Last week I had my first experience babysitting a family who has a dog. As I walked in the dog and I just had a stare down; we both knew we were in for a challenging night. The kids and I were having a great time dancing to Michael Jackson in the basement until I went upstairs for some waters. Not much to my surprise that filthy dog peed on the floor. Taking the 6 years old’s advice I cleaned the pee up with Windex. Does Windex have some special dog repellent in it? Does it have a strong chemical that secretly does an exceptional job at killing dog pee germs? I asked myself these questions as I forwent the Lysol for Windex. Who am I to question the dog-loving 6 year old? Not knowing the excretion system of dogs I figured it needed to let some more waste out, so I released it outside. The children exclaimed the dog didn’t have its collar on so all three of us went running outside after the dog. The 8 year old finally caught it and put it on its leash (should I not be calling this dog an ‘it’?). We tie it up to the basketball net and continue to play nicely outside, enjoying our dear old time; talking about Shark Week and jumping over ropes. Again, not much to my surprise the dog is digging in the dirt, getting all dirty! That’s what dogs, by wild nature, are supposed to do. But this dog lives in a beautiful home on the mainline of Villanova. I’m sure mud and dirt and worms are unwanted on this family’s Ralph Lauren couches. I immediately take the dog inside to its cage, wag my finger at it and sternly say, “bad dog!” even though I don’t think it did anything wrong, it’s a dog, but don’t they need to be reprimanded in some way? Eventually the kids want the dog out of the cage so I let it out as we go upstairs. Mmm less than 10 minutes upstairs, the 8 year old tells me the dog is pooping…on the carpet. I just look at it, telling the kids I have no idea what to do, I don’t know what to do with dogs. Eventually I clean it up, put the dog in the cage, wag my finger and say, “bad dog!”

This suit would have been nice to have for the dog.

Now, I do not blame dogs. How are they to know any better? They are wild animals who belong in nature, free to sniff butts, poop anywhere, lick anything, run around and worry about knocking over laps or tearing up furniture. It’s what they do! I blame humans who try to tame animals for their own emotional benefit and hedonistic pleasure. I’m a psych major so you’d think I’d understand this cognitive/emotional attachment thing, right? Nope. But, I do know that many beliefs and thoughts stem from childhood. Growing up I had 4 older siblings, two little brothers and a fish. That’s all we could handle. Why have dogs when you have the love and attention from 6 siblings? It’s really annoying to me that I don’t understand dogs and the emotional “man’s best friend” connection. That’s why when I’m older I want a dog for my children so they don’t have to suffer through harangues from their friends about how pets love you no matter what, they don’t judge you, they’re so friendly and cute, they don’t care if you got a bad grade or a horrific haircut. Whatever. They don’t know because they’re animals!!

Someone must be trying to tell me something because in the last 2 weeks I’ve had more encounters with pets than I ever have. I went to my brother and sister-in-laws’ apartment where I tried to bond with their two cats. FAIL. I tried to cuddle them and pet them and hold them, reassuring them I wasn’t going to hurt them, but they didn’t believe me and ran away!! I’m trying here, cats! Give me a chance, listen to me, let me TRY to love you! Then I went to my boyfriend’s house where they have pee-pads set up near the door in case the dog isn’t let out in time. You’re just going to have a pee-soaked pad in your house? Even worse, he stepped on the pee-pad! I don’t want that in my home where I eat and sleep and lay and play. Let’s face it, animals are dirty and I don’t want some four-legged creature running around my home or a smelly fish tank or unsightly bird cage. Life is hard enough, people. Why burden yourself with a pet?

[SPOLIER ALERT!!] Honestly, at the end of “Marley and Me” I got a little sad when I saw the kids crying, not because the dog died, but because the kids were so upset! Poor kids, getting so emotionally involved and wrapped up in a dog…that doesn’t even speak! If that dog I was sitting said, “Hey, girl I really gotta go. Can you let me out so I don’t poop all over the place?” I would have responded, “Yeaaaah doggie, of course! Thanks for letting me know. When you do poop, could you pick it up? I have friends coming over for a BBQ.”

GET AT ME.

*Note* I understand that humans are also animals, but c'mon, there's no arguing we're way superior than most.

MM: Calling All Toys R' Us Kids!

2010-08-15T12:07:00.001-04:00

I really tried not to vent about this but I failed...

A few weeks ago I received a very solemn letter in the mail. “URGENT: Graduation Materials Enclosed” was stamped in red letters across the front, inciting a long, drawn out “NOOOOOOOOO” inside my head. As much as my friends and I have been saying we cannot believe we are seniors in college, I had never actually had to confront the official idea of it until that dreaded letter showed up in my mailbox. My fellow classmates also felt the pain of that horrible correspondence.

Where did the carefree summers of our youth go!? Why do we work instead of sleeping in every day and enjoying the sunshine? We’re not supposed to pay bills; that’s something grownups do! We’re not grownups! We’re supposed to use our money to buy clothes or movies or concert tickets or alcohol (because while we are not grownups we are 21 and can do such things!). How were we nervous, awkward freshman just yesterday and now we’re seniors having to confirm degree audits and actually think about what we need to do to graduate and leave college behind…FOR. EV. ER.? Cue the “I Don’t Wanna Grow Up, I’m a Toys R’ Us Kid” song.

When did we get so big we couldn't even fit on Big Wheels anymore?

To which I say, let’s not grow up! For now, anyways. Let’s enjoy these last couple weeks of summer in our respective locations and then unite at Loyola and live up our final months as kids yet to be thrown into the gauntlet that is the real world. We’ve had our small taste of it, and for the most part it is not very delicious. Kind of tastes like the most disgusting vegetable you can think of (for me: beets).

Then and Now: These clowns are still livin' it up 3 years later; why shouldn't you?

So do not pass up any opportunities to bask in the glory of being young and not completely responsible yet. If you’re ever torn on whether you should go out or not, GO OUT. We don’t even have to resort to the cramped and smelly confines of Murphy’s or Craig’s anymore (though they, of course, will be frequented). If you find a day where you have nothing to do and you wonder if you should do some homework, DON’T DO THE HOMEWORK. Homework is for the night (or hour) before class. Do something fun instead. We have one year left to explore Baltimore and leave our mark on a city we have been living in for three years. Let’s not hold back. Who knows if we’ll all be together again? (Oh dear, that is depressing; I apologize. Who knows when we’ll all be together again?)

Love your friends.

I’m obviously not promoting failing out of school or getting fired from jobs or anything. I don’t want any of you working at McDonalds for the rest of your life (nothing against that fine fast-food establishment). I’m simply calling everyone to take a step back, realize that this is all the time we have left, and to not let it go to waste by stressing over work or grades or being a real person. We don’t have to be real people quite yet. But when that time does come, I’m sure you’ll all own it.

Okie doke, gotta go slice some deli meat all day so I can fund this upcoming year of fun.

Peace out!
Meag

JG: I'm Losing Things.

2010-08-11T18:19:00.000-04:00

Today, I realized I had lost two stories I had written about a year ago. Then, in a fit of awesome, I found one of them. Here it is before I lose it again.

All in Jest

*inspired by Shel Silverstein

There once was a young boy who followed around the local jester wherever he would go. The boy wanted nothing more than to be just like the jester. He simply wanted to make people laugh and see the smiles upon their faces. It was said that the young boy’s smile was the most beautiful thing in the entire kingdom, and he was the happiest little boy anyone had ever seen... But wait, this isn’t the story of the boy. This is the story of the jester. Let’s start over then, shall we?

And so, here it goes. There once was a typical jester in a typical kingdom ruled by a typical king. Every day there would be a grand luncheon and the jester would entertain the king and his distinguished guests. The crowd would laugh and the jester would smile, and the jester would return with merriment to his comfortable quarters. The boy was there too. But one day the good jester lost his touch, and he simply could not hear the laughter anymore.

The jester was the only person who could dare get away with making fun of the king, and on this day he decided to joke about just that. The young boy watched as the jester cracked about everything from war to his treatment of others to how the king simply dressed. On any other day, this speech would be a riot. But today it seemed all too condescending, and the jester was met with silence. The king stopped the show; kindly hinting it was not the jester’s best performance. The king knew he’d see better tomorrow. And off went the jester.

The jester was upset yet confident he would come back strong the next day. Tomorrow I’ll sing, the jester thought. Everyone always got a kick out of the jester’s singing voice. And so with the young boy following close behind, the jester went into his number. But today the jester just could not seem to hit the right notes, and once again was met with silence. The king was not at all pleased. But he was a tolerant king, and did not want to lose his cool in front of his guests. He did not raise his voice, and the king kindly asked the jester to do better the next day. And off went the jester.

On the third day, the young boy watched the jester pack everything from apples to bowling pins. On this day, the jester would juggle. Everyone always loved when the jester would perform his grand juggling act, especially the king. But today the pins would not fall the right way, landing not in his hands but upon the floor, and for the third straight day the jester was met with silence. At this point, the king was furious. The once tolerant king could bare it no longer. He stood up, rousing the crowd, and shouted: “IF THIS HAPPENS AGAIN TOMORROW, YOU’LL BE A PEASANT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!” And off went the jester.

That night the jester was so heartbroken that he could not even prepare an act for the next day. The young boy followed the jester to the dining hall and watched as the jester looked blank and confused. Finally, the jester somberly spoke. He spoke of just how it felt to be an unfunny jester. He spoke of sadness and rain. He spoke of coldness and pain. He spoke of anguish and hardship and devastation and woe. He spoke of what its like to simply not know. He spoke of being unsure of what’s funny and what’s right. He spoke of being too ashamed to fall asleep at night. And just when the jester thought he could say no more. The guests laughed and laughed until it hurt their core. They laughed until their sides ached and their bellies screamed. They laughed harder and harder than they could ever have dreamed. The king was delighted at the sight of the scene, laughing so hard it even hurt his spleen! A tormented jester was truly the funniest thing he ever had seen.

But all rhyming aside, the now-jovial king bid the jester adieu. And off went the jester.

Having caused quite the stir, the jester returned once again to his quaint quarters, followed only by the uproarious howling of the crowd and, of course, the young boy. The jester had maintained his job, the people were happy, and the jester was the center of attention once again.

Yet, this time the jester did not return with his usual merriment; he had not shared in the laughter. For the jester was a man of his craft, you see; he took great pride in his work. And as he fell down into his seat, so did his tears, silhouetted by a lone candle. The jester cried all the night through, and the jester never quite found the same laughter again.

It was said that the sight of a crying jester was the saddest thing the young boy had ever seen. The young boy had lost all hope in the jester, and with it had lost all hope in his own self. The boy did not cry, but to this day has never laughed again.

And off went the jester.

JF: What's Wrong with TSTLN Bloggers?

2010-08-02T22:19:00.001-04:00

How about some professionalism guys?
I don't know how many times I've had to log on solely to edit the title line of a post because you knuckleheads keep goofin' it up. I know DK probably does a lot of the same.

The headlines on this particular obscure blog go like this
(First initial)(Second initial) (Colon) (Title)
Ergo...
JF: What's Wrong with TSLN Bloggers?

Also, in terms of standard journalisitic protocol, you should probably be capitalizing all the major words in the title.

We look like g-d amateurs guys!
Tighten up!
Ship shape!
Darn tootin'!

TD: Vinyl

2010-08-02T20:25:00.001-04:00

If Pat, Joey, and I have not already announced our "Hipsterdom" with our posts about the best and brightest from underground music or film through our very boastful opinions, than this post is the tipping point (for me atleast). No, but seriously: Vinyl is fantastic. A few weeks ago I ventured to a D.C. suburb with my fellow WLOY crew to collect over 1,500 records from a former NSA lingusist who raises cats--she had 27 felines. After spending nearly three hours sifting through the cat hair to collect Springsteen's "Born in the USA" and Frampton's "Peter Frampton Comes Alive!", the kind and quirky cat collecter offered me a shitty but free record player.

Pat, Jordie, Jack, and I (aswell as several guests that frequent our Mt. Washington pad) have been enjoying the wonders of vinyl. From The Strokes "Is This It?" to The Beatles "Abbey Road" we've spent countless hours listening to the classics in our damp, candle lit basement. After being a vinyl enthusiast for only a few weeks, I can say with confidence that "the crackle" is all its crackled up to be (no pun intended hehe). If you like music, buy a record player. You seriously will not regret it.

I'm keeping it short.

goodbye.

TD

MM: Book It!

2010-07-15T23:35:00.001-04:00

(In reference to the title of this post...I hope there are some people out there who know/remember what Book It is. Basically: Read books --> Get free personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut. A second-grader's only motivation to read anything.)

I am going to jump back into the blogosphere with a post on something we have yet to address here on The Stairs (I think)…books. With summer here, many people are looking for a good book to read on the beach or in their backyard as they soak up the UV rays necessary to get that coveted tan/sunburn that will turn tan (or if you are Irish like me, sunburn that will turn back to pale splattered with freckles). Apologies to those who are too cool for school and have “I don’t read” under Books on Facebook…I’ve attached some pictures to help you through this one.

NOTE: I have recently made it my mission to read as many “good” books as possible from now on. While my definition may differ from yours, by “good” I mean “not Nicholas Sparks or anything along those lines.” I know his books are worshipped by a majority of women ages 16 and up, but after reading The Wedding and predicting the ending a couple chapters in, I cannot give the guy any respect. There are only so many times you can write the typical romantic novel, and 14 times is simply overkill. So while Taylor, Pat, and Joey have embraced the music/movie snob roles on The Stairs, I’ll step in as the book snob, a.k.a. the nerd. I’m a bit behind on what is new and noteworthy but these ones are all from the 2000s. With that said, here are some books I have recently read that you should too:

1. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

Props to Joey Guisto on this one, who suggested I read it after he devoured it during our two-week journey around the South Island of New Zealand. I had never heard of the book or the author before, though I had heard of the movie based on his first novel, Everything is Illuminated (which I intend to read soon). Foer’s story of nine-year-old Oskar Schell searching for the lock that matches a key he found in his dead father’s office is a hilarious, heart-wrenching, and inspiring work which I can only sum up as “weird,” but in a good way. Foer uses a bunch of unconventional methods to frame his story, from one-word pages to run-on sentences to pictures (like the doorknob below) to stream-of-consciousness letters and passages that allow the reader to look into the minds of various characters in the book. See if you are not hooked after the first few sentences, which introduce you to the mind of Oskar:

“What about a teakettle? What if the spout opened and closed when the steam came out, so it would become a mouth, and it could whistle pretty melodies, or do Shakespeare, or just crack up with me? I could invent a teakettle that reads in Dad's voice, so I could fall asleep, or maybe a set of kettles that sings the chorus of 'Yellow Submarine,' which is a song by the Beatles, who I love, because entomology is one of my raisons d'etre, which is a French expression that I know.”

2. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

Chabon has quite a way with words in this story of two cousins (Sammy and Joe) who create a comic book chronicling the adventures of The Escapist, a superhero with powers to escape pretty much any situation. The Escapist is able to overcome the obstacles that the two boys are still trying to defeat in their lives, from Sammy being crippled from polio to Joe trying to rescue his family from the clutches of the Nazis in Prague. The interesting thing about this novel is that there is a story within the story. Chabon crafts the characters of Sammy and Joe and the people around them with great detail, and still manages to thoroughly highlight the legends of The Escapist, from his birth into superherodom (I think I made that word up) to his escaping abilities to his superhero counterparts. And there is more to the story than comics, for those like me who have never picked up a comic book in their life. There’s humor, there’s romance, there’s sadness – all the essential ingredients for a book that will stick with you after you’ve read the last word.

3. The Road by Cormac McCarthy

Not really a summery book by any means, but I feel impelled to put it on here. Save it for a rainy day (you’ll only need one to finish this). You’ve most likely heard of The Road -- it was released on the big screen back in December. I have yet to see the movie so I cannot say if the book is anything like it, but whether or not you liked the movie, you MUST read the book. It is dark, it is depressing, it is scary, but somehow at the end it leaves you inspired (though still incredibly sad). McCarthy writes so honestly – he doesn’t mess around with flowery language or sappy, over-the-top dialogue; everything is to-the-point and essential to the plot. He connects you to the two main characters – a father and his son – and enables you to sympathize with them as they travel in search of a safe haven in a world on the brink of non-existence, even though you never know their names. As a book that has won the Pulitzer Prize and has made it to the top of countless “Books of the Decade” lists, I highly recommd it.

Not quite The Road

That is all for now…more to come soon for all you bookworms out there.

Peace out!

Meag

DK: Oh, Dorito girl!

2010-07-13T00:26:00.003-04:00

The Dorito Girl Chronicles

Joey has been so kind as to kick off our blogging once more. Rally behind his example, oh members of the Stairs! My topic for today? None other than the bodacious-Dorito-loving-beauty. You guessed it. Dorito girl.

While we were in New Zealand, Doritos finally landed on Kiwi shores. Meag loves them, and ate them on the reg'. 3% of the hundreds of dollars of gas that we spent at Mobil stations down south turned into Doritos.

Kiwi math.

Money = Gas + Free Dortios

And perhaps..

Divided friendships by greedy Dorito consumers

(Remainder; Pat and Brit still fighting about everything)

So began the legend of the Dorito girl--New Zealands finest snack model. Please enjoy the below photo shoots.

Dorito girl hits the Kepler Track--one of New Zealand's great walks

Dorito girl looking good at Milford Sound

Dorito girl perches gargoyle-like atop Mt. Thomas with the southern alps in the distance

And she hits the Franz Joseph Glacier!

Oh, how lucky I am. She graces me with her snacks. I have been chosen over the foul Topher

Welcome home, friends.

Come play at Loyola.

Update! A response from Frito-Lay!

Here's our response to your e-mail - RE: Doritos, Reference #011103960A

Hi Daniel,
Thank you so much for sharing your blog with us, the pictures were beautiful!

It's always a pleasure to hear from our consumers, especially when you tell us how much you enjoy our snacks. Fans like you keep us energized to provide you with the highest quality, best-tasting snacks on the market.

Again, we appreciate you writing to us and hope you and "Doritos Girl" continue to enjoy great-tasting snacks from Frito-Lay.

Best regards,

Natalia
Frito-Lay Consumer Affairs
011103960A

The sunflower and corn oils used in Frito-Lay snack chips contain 0 grams of trans fat and are higher in the "good" fats that have been proven to reduce LDL (bad) cholesterol and maintain or increase HDL (good) cholesterol levels, which has been associated with a reduction in the risk of heart disease.

JG: Feed Me Beats.

2010-07-12T17:20:00.001-04:00

"Can We Pretend That Metaphors Are Like Similes Without Using Like or As. I Should Really Learn To Write Right Now, Write Right Now (echo effect)."

If I'm not mistaken, this will be this blog's first post about music.

Ok, so I'm not content with American radio. I'm sure no one is. Also, that MGMT cd meag sent me is either not good or not for me. (I've also heard rumo(u)rs that this band Abel Tasman would be releasing a very pretentious, purposely vague and esoteric album this summer, but I've seen nothing of it.) This, coupled with the fact my ipod speakers inexplicably broke about six months ago, means I must make a Compact Disc. I ask you all to help me complete it. It is summer, so do please try to avoid any singers that stabbed themselves in the heart (twice). Here is the list as stands:

You Don't Know Me (feat Regina Spektor) - Ben Folds
Past My Shades (Feat. Lupe Fiasco) - B.o.B. (sure I just made fun of him, but this is just too awesome slash hysterical)
Kick Drum Heart - The Avett Brothers (thank you jerry)
Look At Me (When I Rock Wichoo) - Black Kids
The Daredevil Christopher Wright - The Daredevil Christopher Wright
The Ghost Inside - Broken Bells
Close to me - Ballyhoo! (sorry I have a thing for shitty bands that wish they were Sublime)
Cousins - Vampire Weekend
When We Swam - Thao with The Get Down Stay Down (YES, YES, & YES)
Butt Ugly Slut - Roger Alan Wade (best song ever made??)
Baby Boomerang - The Shins
I Woke Up Today - Port O'Brien
Shape Of My Heart - Noah And The Whale
The Way You Make Me Feel - Michael Jackson
I Don't Care - Justin Townes Earle
and of course....
Hit or Miss - New Found Glory (I refuse to go more than three years without bringing this song back)

I await your esteemed input....

DK: Exit Poem

2010-05-24T08:22:00.006-04:00

Hullo! Its been way too long since I've made a post.

I want to follow up Taylor's bit about heading back to the states. Leaving the Land of the Long White Cloud has weighed heavily on my mind recently. So heres an exit poem. I it wrote while waiting to head to Queenstown, alone in an airport. I'm working sections of it into a song.

Peace and Love.

A Sojourner's Song
by Daniel Koster

My heart is full of an unrequited desire

To be

I’ve found love in adventure

I already dread the flashbacks

Filled with longing

For the things I never once cared

Synthetic material, fit for a trek

A 2^nd hand jacket from the Gap

In Leigh—Up north.

And in an interview

For a doctorial program or

Who knows what ditch of a formality life

Backs me into

I’ll be asked

“Why New Zealand?”

And I’ll respond

“To see how beautiful this world can be.”

Ace in the hole.

I have to try so hard to ignore the fact

That this is all going to end soon

That I need to concentrate at rest

But the sobbing of a child offers a substantial distraction,

A double-edged knife

Don’t you dare, young man, forget to be

Don’t you dare, young man, forget

In Jerry’s words

There’s a worlds worth of road and

Even more ocean before we get home

And I guess he’s right, put in a cryptic way

That we’d reassign our concept of home

To the New Zealand outback,

To ourselves.

Perhaps the only thing that silences

My rumination is the prospect of return one day

But that day won’t feel the same

My youth extinguished,

Beaten and battered into the shape

I’ll die in

For now, I’m as malleable as a glacier

The world a pick axe—wielded by the sturdy hand

Of the Tour Guide—

If my parents were right.

But all that is above me, today

Let me advise you,

You static-walking-corpse-to-come

Don’t forget to be, old man

Don’t you dare forget

TD: Goodbye Copenhagen

2010-05-15T14:47:00.001-04:00

Well I'm sadly packing up my room and getting ready to fly back to America tomorrow. A few days ago I thought I was ready. But now that it's crunch time I can't even think about it. After hearing a speech at our closing ceremony in which a comical kid from Skidmore explained how much he hates the "study abroad will change your life" phrase cause it takes something so unique and personal and makes it generic. And that it did change his life, but he couldn't explain that to everyone because everyone didn't stay in Copenhagen. I think he was right, it changed my life but I'm not going to stamp a cliche like that on it.

I think it's a great thing that I don't want to leave. And I'm sure I feel completely American again after only a few days of adjusting. But those in NZ (or Ireland), who still have a month or so left, cherish every fucking moment, because you're not going to want to leave, and you're probably going to feel pretty shitty your last day as you think back about a crazy semester in a foreign country! It's a good thing though, fo sho. I felt the need to get this past out there, my mind is racing.

I look forward to seeing all your beautiful faces either this summer or in the fall, when we're seniors.

That's all for now,

Taylor

PT: Alex Chilton Remembered

2010-03-21T18:14:00.000-04:00

I don't have much time, about fifteen minutes, so sorry that I can't get too much into explanation here. On Wednesday, the music world lost a key figure in Alex Chilton. Whether you know it or not, Chilton has been an influence on basically anything, mainly with his band Big Star. Big Star have a huge cult following like Velvet Underground, only Lou Reed was loud and knew he was fucking cool. Alex Chilton was the kid sitting in the corner just being a boss and not making everyone see. However, his body of work is exemplary and should be viewed by all. To honor him and Big Star, I'm going to post ten Big Star songs everyone should know. Not all were written by Chilton, but he had a major effect on all, either melodically or musically.

1) Thirteen - The first Big Star song I knew because of Elliott Smith. An absolute classic. One of the sweetest and most innocent songs you will ever hear.

2) Kangaroo - Taylor and I once listened to this on a night drive back to his house, and spaced out for the entirety of the song, lost in it's brilliance.

3) I'm In Love With A Girl - A short, but meaningful song. He says everything so simply, but with a voice like his, it sounds so complex.

4) Holocaust - The epitome of sad song. Chilton was falling apart during Big Star's third album Sister Lovers, and this song is completely emblematic of it.

5) Stroke It Noel - Power pop with fantastic strings always gets the best of me.

6) Ballad of El Goodo

7) September Gurls

8) In the Street

9) Nighttime

10) Blue Moon

R.I.P. Alex Chilton.

TD: The loss of an Indie Legend, Alex Chilton

2010-03-19T19:00:00.000-04:00

Goodbye Alex

As I sit here in my dorm room waiting for Michigan State to I'm going to reflect on the late Alex Chilton. Pat Taylor would certainly post something about Chilton and since he's in the African bush, I thought I'd fill the void. Chilton, the lead singer of the 70s rock band Big Star, is often considered amongst musicians as the king of "indie." And as this blog is mostly made up of counter culture yuppies I thought you folks would appreciate a little praise for a lesser known classic rock icon.

Chilton did solo work after Big Star and was in a pop band, Box Tops, before Big Star's formation in '71. His unique voice and melancholy lyrics make him an influence on several musicians including the late Elliott Smith and REM. He was considered a media recluse, unwilling to do interviews or appear in public throughout his years post Big Star. He was known amongst those who knew him as being blunt but charming, in a very southern way (he hailed form Memphis, TE). The bands' three albums in the 1970s were a definitive example of Big Star's short but influential stamp on rock music. They were set to reunite for a performance at South by Southwest which is currently happening in Austin as we speak.

It's too bad that he passed at only 59, just days before their show. The music world won't forget the voice of Chilton and I suggest, if you aren't familiar with Big Star's music, you download/youtube a couple songs in his passing honor. "Thirteen" and "Nighttime" are two of my personal favorites but they have many gems.

That being said, I hope everyone is having a wonderful time in their world travels. Those back at Loyola, enjoy the beautiful weather Baltimore's having.

That's all for now.

Taylor

MM: Cool Places Where I Have Eaten Lunch

2010-03-14T08:28:00.001-04:00

I recently asked a good friend of mine if he had ever eaten lunch on top of a waterfall, to which he replied:

“Once. When I was in the Secret Service. We were in Hawaii, Maui actually, and we were forced to camp out in the jungle for about six days. By Day Six we were starving, unprepared for such a long stay in the heat. So finally, I whittled down sticks to spears and killed about two birds. They were tiny, but enough to sustain us. So that our fires weren't seen, we built them atop a waterfall and ate those roasted birds as if we'd never eat again. It was wonderful.”

So no, he hadn’t eaten lunch on top of a waterfall. Which got me thinking…Since I’ve arrived in New Zealand, I’ve been to so many places that I didn’t even believe could exist before I set off on my journeys. Sure, I had heard about the beautiful beaches and clear, blue waters and towering mountains, but I never thought all these things would actually live up to the expectations that I had set for them. The fact that I have perched on a rock on top of a waterfall in northern New Zealand and consumed a ham sandwich just does not seem real to me. Doing something so ordinary, something I have done every day for the twenty-one years of my life, in a place that was so extraordinary really hit home the fact that I was in a completely different world than suburban Philadelphia or Loyola. I don’t have to construct some far-fetched story about roasting birds in the Secret Service to answer the question of whether or not I’ve eaten on top of a waterfall, because I actually have. How many people can say that?

All of these deep thoughts prompted me to make a list of the cool places I have eaten lunch in the past month:

1. In-n-Out Burger – To Californians this may not seem so out of the ordinary, but for me it was quite the experience. For months before setting off for New Zealand, my friends and I had been looking forward to the nine-hour layover in San Francisco mostly for the opportunity to eat a legendary In-n-Out burger. The moment I sat down at the table outside the restaurant, my burger, fries, and Coca-Cola in front of me as I was surrounded by equally excited and hungry friends and the warm San Francisco air, I knew my adventures had finally begun. In the end, the burger wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be, but it was a fitting last meal in America for four and a half months.

2. On a beach in the Bay of Islands – I wish I could tell you the name of the beach we ate at during our bus tour of the Bay of Islands, but all of the confusing Maori names blend together for me sometimes. Ignorant, I know, and I’m working on it. I remember it started with a T though. Anyway, it was surreal to be sitting in the grass slurping on strange fruit-juice concoction (New Zealand is all about combining apples and oranges and various other fruits into one drink) as breezes flew by and the water crashed on the beach right in front of us. It was nothing like having lunch on the beach in Jersey, where there are people every few feet and the sand has bits of trash everywhere and the water is gray. It was literally just us, on a beach, where the water was blue and the sand was spotless and white.

3. On top of a waterfall – As I mentioned before, I have eaten a sandwich on top of a waterfall, and I can only accurately sum it up as “unreal.” We almost seemed out of place, all forty Americans sitting on rocks and grass, munching away as the water rushed by. I felt like I shouldn’t be allowed to perch on the very edge of the waterfall, where one wrong slip could end very horribly. TSTLNer Jerry kept saying how he just wanted to jump into the pool below, which goes to show how out of our element we really were. Being in such naturally beautiful place messes with your mind a bit – it almost seemed a waste to be sitting there and not jump off the edge.

4. On a grassy patch on Queen Street in Auckland – A couple times I have grabbed a five-dollar kebab or some kumara fries on the main road in Auckland – Queen Street – and settled on a grassy patch just outside the Sky City Cinema. It’s not a particularly enchanting spot – it has a lackluster view of the construction of Aotea Square and of a Burger King, among other random restaurants and shops – but the atmosphere is something different for me. It’s a great people-watching place, as pedestrians bustle back and forth on their way to or from wherever they are going in Auckland. I think the appeal here is that I am sitting in the middle of a city I have anticipated coming to for so long, eating food and getting burnt by the unforgiving sun, like I belong or something. I certainly am starting to feel like I belong here as I become more confident in finding my way around, which is a comforting feeling considering I’m all the way on the other side of the world from my true home.

5. At a hostel on Waiheke Island – This one is technically dinner but I’m still going to include it. A couple weeks ago a bunch of TSTLNers (DK, Joey, Jerry, Chris), Britt (that really good volleyball player that Jerry blogged about a while ago), Pat (this kid from Georgetown that we have deemed worthy to join our crew) and I took a ferry to Waiheke Island, which is about 30 minutes away from Auckland, and eventually settled into a hostel by the beach for the night with fixings for a barbeque. Once all the burgers and sausages had been made and we were all sitting around a picnic table outside, a little buzzed off our drinks and getting our first glimpses of stars, I started to realize how lucky I really was. I was in New Zealand, just a five minute walk to a beach where I would be able to see countless stars, sitting next to a dog we named McBarkley. Had I not been given the opportunity to study in New Zealand, I probably would have been at home lazing around or preparing for a night out at the shitty bars on York Road. I became restless after a while, wanting to go experience everything at once. This place has that effect on me – I feel like if I sit for too long I’m missing out on something.

All in all, the point I’m trying to make is that I’m finally here in New Zealand, a place my friends and I had jokingly deemed a fantasy land before we arrived, and I still feel like it’s not real. Every day I learn more and more about the people and the places around me, but then things like waterfalls and volcanoes and star-encrusted skies get thrown my way and I start to wonder if this is all a dream.

Which is why I’ll end this post with a picture of graffiti on the Grafton Bridge, which I cross every day to get to classes and the city. When you read this, you also get a nice view of Rangitoto, a volcano near the city (I couldn’t capture it in the picture, but it’s there, I promise).

I’ll try to find some even crazier places to eat lunch to entertain you with in the future -- maybe eat a sandwich while chillin’ with a kiwi bird (they are nocturnal and so far very elusive so this would be quite a feat) or consume on Mount Doom (apparently this would involve hiking for eight hours so I highly doubt I will do this, but I won’t rule it out completely). Also I’m open to hearing about all the cool places people have eaten in their lives – I’m sure there are some secretly awesome spots at home that I’ve just never discovered.

Peace out!
Meag

TD: Abbey Road

2010-03-07T15:36:00.001-05:00

I've always been fascinated by iconic cities--the ones that influence music, film, entertainment, and even history. Many cities manage to fulfill some of these duties, but if you were to ask a random person on the street to name the most famous cities in the world, I can guarantee that London would be in the top five, if not the top three. I came back to Copenhagen today after a week in The Queens Country, surrounded by the history and culture that you see in so many films and hear in so many songs. In fact, I nearly watched a "Waterloo Sunset" from outside of Waterloo Station as the Kinks sang about.

Of course there are the usual landmarks--The Tower of London, London Bridge, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, The British Museum, etc. Then there's the less "known"--Notting Hill, Camden, Brick Lane, Covet Garden, Tate Modern, etc.

And then...there's Abbey Road. It sits comfortably in its own category as a musical mecca. Beatles fans worldwide travel to London to sit in front of Abbey Road Studios or walk across the street just as the Fab Four did in their famous album cover photograph. I considered shedding my shoes for a barefoot stroll like McCartney but the 45 degree whether forced me to restrain myself. Even being what I'd consider as a moderate Beatles fan (Much more since living in Europe), I was in awe. In the middle of a very quaint (and very rich) residential neighborhood, is where perhaps the greatest rock band in world history recorded a volume of music that may never be topped.

A white wall lines the front yard of the small studio and on it are messages to the legends themselves. "We love you, yeah yeah yeah" and "Beatles >God" are just a few I noticed. Some more unfavorable messages like "Let it Be--Paul" also appeared. There was no retail store in sight (no commercial "Beatlesmania gimmick stores or touristy boutiques around this Rock monument)...just a white house where the studio is still functioning, a long wall with the marks of the inspired, and a cross walk.

Music fans of all kinds owe a little something to the Beatles. That's how I looked at my thirty minute journey from Central London to the residential community of St. John's Wood (City of Westminster) where the studio resides--As a thank you.

Taylor

DK: On the Auckland Domain

2010-03-03T18:03:00.002-05:00

In the Park in the City of Sails on an Island in Oceania

By Daniel Koster

I’m surrounded. It’s February, but summer. My being is enveloped by the leafy crown of a vibrant tree; my body coddled by its roots. The shooters poking out of the ground provide a convenient seat. My back rests on the big guy’s trunk. A comfortable spot, I’ve found. It must be an ancient tree, as many that he lives near are indefinably old. His home is the Auckland Domain—a park minutes from my new home in the City of Sails: Auckland, New Zealand.

As I attempt to look through the tree’s encompassing perimeter, a perimeter composed of leaves and branches; I can see bits and pieces of my friends and dorm-mates. They’re playing a game of footie, or soccer in other regions. I chose not to join. Instead, I’m sitting of to the side enjoying a chilly New Zealand Lager and listening to jazz and blues. I wouldn’t trade this.

When I began to write, the western sky was aglow. Pink and purple clouds danced over the rolling hills of the Domain. As I continued to write, their ritual would not wait. They tangoed over the museum, a classically beautiful building atop a hill. It wouldn’t feel out of place in Washington, DC—my home’s capitol. The clouds waltzed past the six or eight cricket games being hosted right off the grandstand. By another field, they two-stepped over the heads of rugby players. As the games rage on, wives grill kiwi style sausages as children watch their father’s bash on towards glory. Although currently beyond presentable recognition, they see in their fathers what they one-day hope to see in themselves. By why stop there? More than one child might envision himself an All Black—just as a Brooklyn boy might see himself a Yankee. Here, especially in the context of this upward-looking- piece-of-literature, it’s quite easy to remember that the sky’s the limit.

As the clouds move on, they haka’d over the fernery—home to a nursery of native ferns and indigenous plants. You know, I bet they even saw their reflection in the courtyard’s pool located in between the two winterhouses. The residents of this courtyard, four romantic statues, one labeled “summer,” another labeled “winter,” another labeled “spring” and yet another labeled “fall” likely found the cloud’s passing as enjoyable as they had the first evening they’d witnessed such a scene.

The light show continues westward. While its 8 pm on a Wednesday here, back home in New York it’s 2 am. As far as days of the week are concerned, my friends and family and everyone that I have ever known has finally caught up—but only for a little while. The sun keeps traveling! It keeps traveling so that my friends in New Zealand can have a night to sleep to. But it also travels so that those I love back home can have a Wednesday. The sun’s fair that way. We’ll talk tomorrow. But wait, isn’t that today?

BB: The land before rhyme (or reason)

2010-03-02T02:05:00.001-05:00

In the words of the late Cecil B. DeMille, "film transcends". Plots, settings and ,of course, emotions. Film can transport us, the lowly mortals so often jaded by the rough truths of the world, to a place of ethereal beauty. Here feelings flow freely as visual and auditory stimuli fuse into a cathartic river. A river straight to the heart. As a firm believer in the ability of film to express beauty so often overlooked in our individual human dramas, I feel a strong sense of vigilantism whenever the sacred medium of film is denigrated by bad movies. Thus, my friends, I am embarking on a quest to seek out and destroy deplorable dramas, condescending cliched comedies, and all other genres which defame quality cinema.

I begin today with a children's classic: The land before time. A heartwarming adventure that follows Littlefoot's path from the Great Beyong to the Great Valley, this film also serves as a coming of age story, as Littlefoot must find himself in order to find his way. Dealing with the death of his mother, the movie endeavors to shop kids the transparency of death, as well as carrying on in the face of adversity. All in all, a masterpiece. Thanks Mr. Spielberg. I have no beef with this movie.

What I do "have beef with" is "The land before time III: The Time of the Great Giving"....also read as "The Land Before Time III: The Quest for more money". Spielberg would have done well to dissociate himself with this picture. A simplistic storyline (even by children's standards) combined with a half-assed critique of bullying made the film sub-par. But what made it an affront to cinema is the flawed environmental science on which it is based. In this land (before time) herbivores live harmoniously in a green utopia. Tree-stars are a-plenty and there is zero predation. Any predators that enter the valley are perjoratively known as "sharp-teeth" and are demonized without regard for their ecological role. As apex predators, the sharp-teeth are not mindless monsters, but are merely fulfilling a niche. The convoluded food web of the Great Valley will no doubt result in an unmitigated disaster. Without sharp-teeth, the herbivores will reproduce beyond the carrying capacity of the environment, exhaust its resources, and starve. Sorry Littlefoot, no tree-stars today. Be sure to thank your elders for overgrazing. Dumbasses, no wonder dinosaurs went extinct.

Another, more minor problem was that of accurate species portrayal. This became quite apparent when the herbivores were attacked by what can only be deinonychus ( the real raptor from Jurrassic park). Deinonychus, for you non-Precalc majors/Paleontology minors out there measures between 5 and 6 feet in height and averaged 180 lbs. An Apatosaurus (long-neck) measured nearly 75 feet in length and weighed close to 25 tons. In the film, this "sharp-tooth" came up to Grandpa's shoulder. That's Bologna.
Next time I might actually write a serious critique of a truly bad movie. I'm open to suggestions.
Get Some, BB

JF: Dancing With Braced Ankles

2010-02-12T16:02:00.027-05:00

Dancing with Braced Ankles

Brittany Born, Loyola's star libero, balances her passion and the simple life

Ed. Note: Hey guys, I know most of you have met Britt before but I thought I'd share this with you before we all left for New Zealand together. I wrote this piece as an assignment for my Sports Writing class so it is a bit dated but I feel like it's an adequate description of her persona. I know it's a bit long but please take the time to enjoy it.

BALTIMORE - Before last Sunday's match against St. Peter's, Brittany Born meets trainer Steve Austin in his office to be treated. Austin places pads on her back, two on her upper back and two on her lower, and channels electric currents into her muscles.

She does this before every match.

The process takes 15 minutes and makes her quiver, but she claims it is painless. It stimulates her sore back muscles and allows her to bow with the grace necessary for the libero (pronounced LEE-beh-ro) position. After some icing, she is ready for warm-ups.

The rest of the team wears their home blacks but not her. As libero, Born, 20, is designated a lime green jersey that makes her more noticeable to the officials - and everyone else. By now, she is used to standing out.

Jogging lightly, Born ducks her head under the net and bounces up on the other side, swinging her arms like a willow in a windstorm as the rest of the team warms up. The song playing on the loudspeaker is House of Pain's "Jump Around" - her favorite. Born mouths the lyrics along, swiveling her hips to the beat as she fields serves to assistant coach Rich Zwolinski. He does his best to shake off a smile.

After the balls are shagged and the game is ready to begin, she stands off to the side of the net, beams bright and darts towards freshman middle blocker Taylor Koncelik. The two meet mid-jump, Born delivers an enthusiastic two-handed high five and lands soundly on her braced ankles. Electrified, she lets out a fervent cheer to rally her teammates for the upcoming contest.

"I live for game day," Born said, with a thin-lipped, knowing smile, "it's so exciting."

What you wouldn't assume is that this game is the last in a disappointing season that began with four straight losses and ended with the NCAA tournament still out of reach. You wouldn't assume that their opponent was a struggling St. Peter's squad who had also buried the hopes of a playoff berth, coming into the match with a lowly 8-21 record.

You wouldn't stop to think that this was Born's last time donning her ankle braces and lime green jersey before she skips the spring season to study abroad in New Zealand.

Brittany born is this enthusiastic every game - and she hasn't missed one of the 362 sets Loyola has played since she arrived three seasons ago.

"I calculated it and, during the season, it's a full-time job," Born admits, almost guiltily.

At times, the commitments of Division I college volleyball makes her feel restricted, tied down. However, she does not let this affect her. She maintains her constant enthusiasm - for the sake of the team.

"[I try to] be loud, you know, celebrate every point," she explains, "every game matters...nobody likes to lose."

"You'd go nuts if you had six of her," Loyola coach Scott Pennewill jests, "but she's got the ability to get people fired up."

Senior Kimi Gabriel subs in for Born during much of the match, but Born continues to cheer from the sidelines, never completely removing herself from the action. The Hounds dig deep to overcome a late rally by St. Peter's and finish off the Peahens in five sets.

Then, it's over.

The team wraps up another disappointing year, finishing 15-18.

Following the match, they hold a banquet to honor the seniors who won't be returning to Loyola for the coming season. The next day, Pennewill gets busy courting five new recruits signed on for next year and the team takes some much needed time off.

For now, the 20-hours of weekly practice and the early morning workouts are through.

"It hasn't even hit me yet that we don't have volleyball."

Brittany Born sits in her bed across from me, legs folded Indian style, and hugs a pillow in her lap. She dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, the outfit of a girl reviling leisure. no make-up, it's not worth the effort today. Her crimped silk hair falls easy on her shoulders.

She is taking her time, letting her weak ankles rest, and enjoying the good life

BORN INTO THE SPORT

Growing up in Ellicott City, Md., Born learned to cherish tranquil things. She remembers sitting in the bathtub at the age of three, splashing along to UB40's "(I Can't Help) Falling in Love with You" while her father, Michael, worked outside on the porch and her mother, Lori, prepared food in the kitchen. This was about the same time her parents introduced her to the sport of volleyball.

Lori and Michael born, who met in college, were doubles partners in beach volleyball. About the time their daughter was a toddler, they began bringing her along, sitting her on a blanket a safe distance from the net with toys and snacks to keep her occupied.

"They were actually pretty good!" she laughingly admits.

Her father, a graphic arts teacher at the Center of Applied Technology North in Anne Arundel County, Md., brought Brittany up with a carefree spirit. A printer by profession, Michael Born also surfs, skateboards and plays the drums.

"She was always really, really smart and outgoing," he said, "always willing to speak up, always

curious. You can see it on the volleyball court, (laughing) she never shuts up."

As she grew up, her affinity for the sport only amplified. In sixth grade, Brittany quit her dance lessons and joined a local youth volleyball team that her mother coached.

From then on, she flourished.

At Archbishop Spalding High School in Severn, Md., she established herself as a leader. A four year letterman, born quickly adopted a reputation for being a successful setter. She set a slew of school records including setting percentage, most sets attempted, most sets made, most assists and highest passing percentage.

Serving as captain her senior year, Born developed a drive for leadership that her father say in her from a young age.

"[Volleyball gave] her an outlet for her energy and her emotion and her athleticism and her leadership and her competitiveness," he said.

In 2007, she walked on to the Loyola squad after turning down a scholarship to set at Salisbury University, an NCAA Division III school. When Gabriel, the incumbent libero, suffered a back injury, Born was pieced into the position. She acclimated herself quickly, averaging 5.22 digs per game and setting a single-season record for digs at 626 in her freshman year. As a sophomore, she led the team again with 489, crossing the 20-dig mark on nine separate occasions.

But enthusiasm and prestige is not without pressure.

They call the position libero - the Italian word meaning "free." As libero, Born is not subject to normal rotation rules - she remains on the court for most of the match, only substituting out every other serve. It is the most important position on the team.

"She's a live wire," Pennewill remarked of his team's emotional backbone. "Not all players are built that way...there is just a positive energy that she infuses through the team."

"It's really an asset to have her out there," junior outside hitter Nina Camaioni related, "She's almost like a leveling balance out there...there's definitely a different feel on the court when she's in."

Pennewill, a wrestler by training, expects intensity and commitment from his players.

"Work ethic. Perseverance. Workhorses." That was the mantra he recited to me.

"She's the one who has to be the best. She mentally has to be it. We want her getting to all the first balls."

The position is not completely unrestricted, though. The libero is prohibited from attacking balls above the plane of the net. Instead, she is the defensive stalwart, responsible for digging out hard hits to rally her team. While she readily accepts this role and uses her coach's expectation to drive herself, sometimes she needs a release.

As we sit in her bedroom, she opens her iTunes and puts on that same cool rhythm her father once filled the house with when she was three years old. The lyrics follow: "Wise men say only fools rush in/But I can't help falling in love with you..."

She lays back on her mattress and closes her eyes.

"How could you not love this song," she asks me.

FOUR MONTHS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD

Auckland, New Zealand, is 8,669 miles away from Baltimore - a 19-hour flight with a 9-hour layover in San Francisco. There, the people refer to themselves as "kiwis" and rugby is the sport of choice - not volleyball. Auckland is a scenic city famous for the quaint sailboats that stir in the harbor; perfect for those looking to stimulate more than just their back muscles.

On Valentine's Day, 2010, Brittany Born will be taking that 19-hour flight, complete with the lengthy stopover. She'll be gone until late June, missing the 5-practice weeks and mandatory weight training sessions that make up the off season. Instead, she'll be climbing glacier on South Island, skydiving in the country and juggling conversations with what she calls "regular students" over a meal of what is ominously called "Vegemite."

"I'll be totally refreshed and ready to come back after," she said, "[The Season] is really hard but I absolutely love it."

"But honestly, I could study abroad in Iowa and still have a good time," she jokes, "just because there would be no volleyball."

"We always call non-athletes 'normal people,'" Camaioni commented. "It's going to be so nice to just be able to enjoy being a student without that commitment."

After her, no other Loyola athlete will do the same. Born and Camaioni - who will be studying abroad in Rome - are the last two varsity athletes from Loyola allowed to study abroad. The Loyola University Athletic Department has decided that the demands of Division I athletics are too heavy to be packed into suitcases and carried abroad.

"Yeah, it's going to be so nice to have a break," Born says, rolling out the words slowly, savoring the idea with every syllable, "I love volleyball but it takes a toll on your mind and your body and your social life and your experience of college life as a whole..."

For a second, she loses herself in the fantasy, biting her lip lightly as if to remind herself she's not quite there yet.

"Yeah..." she finally spills, trailing off with an inflection borrowed from her father. It sounds like she's letting something drift away.

She lets her thoughts wander for a second but springs back to life when I bring up the prospect of bungee jumping.

"I'm very scared of heights but I'm going to go - it's going to be great," she said, "All I have to do is get that initial jump."

The very thought is liberating: her standing at the edge of the Greenhithe bridge, looking up - straight up - feeling the cool air drifting up from the river below as it pushes her hair back wildly. Just a quick step and then a fall - everything rushing at once. For an immeasurable instant at the lowest point she'll be perfectly still.

Suspended.

Finally free. Libero.

After that instant of total release, she'll be pulled up backwards by the cord tied to her delicate ankles.

And, for once, it'll feel more like being grounded and less like being tied down.

JF: In Honor of the 2010 Roster Freeze

2010-02-12T10:35:00.004-05:00

Since the 2010 Winter Olympics will include many standouts from the NHL, the league has decided to "freeze" rosters for the duration of the tournament - meaning that no players can be traded, waived, or sent to the minors until after the closing ceremonies. The freeze is also indicative of the spectacle that is the Olympics as all 32 clubs will take a break from the politics of professional hockey and enjoy the pleasure of playing simply for the pride of your nation.

Here at TSTLN, our roster is constantly growing. I think fluidity of characters is part of this blog's appeal. Therefore, we won't be freezing our rosters anytime soon. However, I would like to honor the Olympics in some way, be it ever so simple.

Therefore, I give you, on February 12 (the same day as the NHL Roster Freeze) the 2010 TSLN Rasta Freeze:

Hey Senca, whatcha smokin?
Nothing mon, I'm BREATHING!

I went a long way for that little pun, huh?

Stay warm my rasta brothers,
Jerry

KMG: The Stairs Lead to Cork, Come Visit Me Screw New Zealand

2010-02-11T01:16:00.011-05:00

Hello to those who valiantly traipse through the unknown treacherous trails of life, I'm Kaela. I've been meaning to write many a post for months now but I haven't gotten my act together. Tonight is the night. I figured I'd start with some advice for our readers many of whom will be traveling to New Zealand this Sunday (safe travels dear friends!!) to the others, hopefully this will resonate with your experiences.

I've now been in Cork, Ireland for one month and 9 days, this in no way makes me a pro-study-abroader but I'd like to share a couple things I've learned with you all.

Pack Goldfish. You could even have despised this salty cheddar snack at home in

the states, cursed your mother out when she put it in your Hey Arnold lunch box, but in another country you will crave it. You will feel a slow burn low in your stomach that only Goldfish can satisfy. When you ask for it at grocery stores they'll direct you to the local equivalent of PetSmart, yummy. No really, I would do sick, sick things to get a box of Goldfish right now.

Try to stay awake once you touch down on the tarmac. The trip to your new home is incredibly enlightening. The unfamiliar landscapes rolling past will help you realize you are finally thousands and thousands of miles away from home. Enjoy the epiphany, take in the view.

There's no better way to learn about your new home than by taking a trip to the emergency room (called A&E here). Everyone should have a firsthand look at their country's healthcare system. And if its because you hit your head in a McDonald's bathroom and are profusely gushing blood even better. Ten points if you end up in a bed next to a Romanian gypsy man who spends the whole night vomiting up blood (gave me TB goddamnit). 15 if they wheel your stretcher into a hallway while you are sleeping and leave you there for a prolonged period of time. 100 points if you leave the hospital with a matted gore head wrapped in gauze like a sadistic version of Rambo.

Prepare for your first grocery store experience. You'll realize you aren't in Kansas anymore. Culture shock times a million. I am now a firm believer that grocery stores can show you more about a culture and a people than most walking tours. Browse through the brands. Here in Ireland they have almost an entire aisle dedicated to different varieties of mayonnaise (ick) and 1/9 of a shelf devoted to salad dressings, which the Irish call salad cream. I was also pleasantly surprised to realize the Irish are very health and environmentally conscious, not only do they not have preservatives in much of their food but they also make you pay for plastic bags! yayyy

Have your fair share of fun in the evening hours but don't ever leave by yourself, especially when you have no idea how to get home. This could result in you wandering around blackout in Cork City by yourself for 2 hours in subzero temperatures while your friends play a particularly nasty game of Where's Waldo. Don't worry you find a way home. You slur a plea for directions from Gardai (Irish police) and they kindly offer to escort you back to your humble abode. Except when you pull up and hop out to greet your friends they realize a strange old man has driven you home in an unmarked windowless green van. NOT GARDA. I'm extremely lucky the Irish are so kind and virtuous. The Kiwis? ehhh I doubt it. DONT LEAVE BY YOURSELF EVER.

Don't be bashful of acting like a tourist, yea be all sophisticated and shit but I can guarantee the locals will know you don't belong. So go ahead whip out the fanny pack but mostly do every touristy thing you can find and take as many pictures as possible. Inhibitions out the window people!!

I can't wait to hear about all your adventures and stalk the crap out of your facebook pictures. Safe travels. Go zorbing and take a pic of a glo-worm cave for me.

Always true,

Kaela G

DK: Wandering Strays

2010-02-10T18:58:00.012-05:00

The Wandering Strays

By Daniel Koster

“That dog is going to die if we don’t feed it,” I said as I pointed to a Mexican stray with his ribs protruding from his sides. Otherwise, it was a lovely mutt, most likely possessing a fair deal of Dalmatian blood.

I was in college. I was in Mexico. What had brought me there was a service/immersion trip to the Tijuana region of the Ameri-Mexican border. For a week-and-a-half, I lived with my peers in solidarity alongside some of the developing country’s poorest. On this afternoon, we found ourselves being served lunch at a facility that harvested honey from beehives. Right before lunch, our group gathered around one of the Mexican ladies as she explained to us the mission of the farm that we were visiting. A member of our team translated her monologue into English.

“The honey will be harvested and put into tubes,” her words were translated by a young man who had volunteered to guide our group. “From here, it will be distributed and sold to members of the community. Its invaluably healthy, compared to what the children are used to eating. They love junk food,” he chuckled. “Additionally, it greatly helps children develop resistance to local allergens…” The young man continued on and eventually, lunch was served.

“These ladies can cook,” one of the girls announced to the group. Everyone’s head was buried in a plate.

“Like nothing I’ve ever eaten,” I responded. By the end of my meal, I had eaten so much that I felt as if I had wrapped a tire around my waist.

All the while, I knew that there were those who would be granted no such feast. Countless human stomachs all across Latin America would go hungry. These countless stomachs belong to countless faces that to this day lack voices as far north New York, as far north as San Francisco, or DC. These faces were hidden within the communities we were visiting, or they could be seen in plain sight on the streets. Today, children, women and men would all go hungry. Yet some of these faces were on all fours, circling our tables as we ate. Some of these faces were being tormented by the smell of fresh beans and newly heated tortillas.

One face in particular caught my attention—it was here that I encountered the aforementioned dog. Sitting with perfect K-9 posture, my new friend eyed me. Ehh--more accurately, he eyed my tortilla. Regardless, his eyes revealed that I was his last shot at life. Like moths to a flame, his presence at our meal was drawing quite a crowd of my team members.

“Why isn’t there an ASPCA down here? I hate to see these dogs on every corner,” a girl remarked. “How hard could this problem be to fix?”

“Considering how many people are going hungry in this city alone, something tells me that stray dogs aren’t on the top of the Mexican government’s list of priorities,” I reminded. “I licked my plate clean, now its this guy’s turn.”

I exited the hot Mexican sun and stepped into the building to grab a handful of tortilla chips. I knew I had to be subtle. To feed a stray inhabitant of the Mexican streets is an action universally looked down upon.

I knew what I had to do. With ten to fifteen tortillas on a plate, I reentered the Mexican-midday-inferno. I looked over at the girl to my right, a short and pretty brunette that I had had my eye on throughout the course of the trip. I locked eye contact, and with a flat affect said, “woops.” I kicked my toe into cinderblock, and executed a control fall to the ground. Tortillas rained down upon my Dalmatian-mix.

“Don’t let the dog get those!” Our trip’s supervisor, had been wise to my wily-ways. “I know its difficult to see them standing there like this. But the area is covered with strays, and if we feed this little guy now, he’s never going to leave the people who live here alone.” Like a swat team on the ready, from either side, members of the team shooed the dog away from his prospective meal.

“Nice try,” the girl that once stood to my right consoled.

“We’re feeding that dog, or I’m walking back to Baltimore,” I openly declared.

“Count me in,” she smiled.

“We can have our cake and eat it too. We won’t feed him here. It’ll just upset everyone,” I told her.

The two of us, united for the first time, began to pick up the now dusty tortillas that had fallen in the dirt. All the while, the dog’s eyes were locked on the plate, craving what must have felt so close, yet so far. We walked down the driveway, through the gate, and out onto the street.

“We’ll walk a block or two,” I suggested.

“Is that really going to trick the little guy?” she asked. “He’ll be back as soon as he’s done.”

“Principle.” I clarified.

That day, I acquired an invaluable commodity. During my entire trip, I had seen so many hungry people. I had been introduced to so many problems with no realistic solutions in sight. I wished often that I could multiply myself by a thousand. A million. Only then could I feed all of the children that Mexico needed fed, mix all the cement that Mexico needed mixed. Only then could I irrigate every dusty football field or dry farmland in Latin America. But I can’t. I am one boy, becoming one man—not a thousand men. Yet through this K9, I have since found a way to justify the baby steps. I’ve learned that while I may be damned should I try and fix everything, everyone will be damned should I try and fix nothing.

After we took our two or three block walk, we placed the plate on the curb.

“I think he’s happy,” she observed.

“Then allow me to live vicariously through him,” I suggested.

She leaned against me, her arm locked with mine. We took a few steps back and watched our new friend eat.

JG: Happy Birthday.. To Me!

2010-02-09T23:45:00.005-05:00

Hi friends.

As I was hungover and bitter on the morn after my 20th birthday last year, I wrote this...

2/11/09

And then there was 20. I don’t even know what to say. Perhaps the f word. That might make me feel better. What perturbs me is this: if I’m this dissatisfied with my first score, how am I going to feel at 40. Fuck mid-life, I need a quarter-life crisis just to get back on track. I’ve lost any semblance of motivation I ever possessed. I’m more than half convinced (yet again) that there’s absolutely no need for college and I shouldn’t be here. In general, I’ve felt its unnecessary being before, but I never really thought it could hurt. Yet now, I think this place actually might be hindering me. I feel like I’m taking crazy pills. I know. I’m a bitch. I can hear me too. But shouldn’t I be doing something with my life? Shouldn’t I be smiling? Shouldn’t I be outside? Shouldn’t I be? I’ve been trying to find beauty in the little things, and to many extents, it’s working. But wallowing in a cumbersome layer of self-

pity is expediently trite, and the gloom of this dorm room isn’t helping much – just miles & miles of clichéd carpeting. The word mundane means lacking interest or excitement; dull, and I’ve used it often lately to respond to the hab

itual inquisitions of ‘how are you’ and ‘how’s it feel to be twenty’. Firstly, this word should not be a go to in my vocabulary. Secondly, this definitely should not be the response to such casual niceties as the aforementioned inquiries. But it just seems to come to mind. And again (I’ll make this piece full-circle here) I just don’t know wh

at to say. I know how to respond, yes, with sadness, anger, perhaps even further self-pity. But I still don’t know what to say – not even out loud, just an internal whispering of how to overcome. But I mustn’t fret because, despite my -1000 self esteem, I do admit I have one good (& refreshing) trait,

and that’s the fact that at

some point in my worries, I laugh. Sometimes it takes longer than others, hell, maybe I even have to cry first, but eventually it happens, and it’s brilliant. Just laughing something off because, well, in the long run, I really don’t care. I’ve never been a big fan of the inquiry ‘why?’ Sure for personal matters worth truly caring about I’ve used it many times. But in general, not a fan. To me, we are where we are, we can’t change the past, so who gives a [insert curse word here]? Go forward, move along, go yonder (whatever that means), do something. Hell, write a diary if it helps. I still love the Vonnegut quote – “Here we are stuck in the amber of this moment; there is no why”. And that’s brilliant to me, even if it was a quote from an extraterrestrial being. We’re here, we’ve reached some current brink, don’t overanalyze, just do – live your life, your moment, embrace the temporary, put quite simply - be. (Aside: this is also why I’ve never quite enjoyed history classes, but let’s not delve too deep and get carried away). I guess the whole point of this is that I’m confused. I need to explore more, and I mean that in the broadest sense. I’ll never be convinced on the school ideal, I never have been either, and yet I keep coming, so there must be something to it. The only real question is whether I’ll care enough to continue obtaining decent grades. That and the fact I’m no longer a teenager, coupled with the world of metaphorical losses I feel are a side order of dropping the ‘-teen’ from the end of your age. But right now, I don’t even know what to say. Just be.

...And my attempt to follow...

2/09/10

As I drink beers alone on the eve of my 21st birthday, I feel it's only right to wax nostalgic. As per my self-scrutinizing manifesto of a post from about a year ago, let's analyze. Quick recap, My goals: explore, be happy, be myself.

What's wrong with it is that I actually was happy sophomore year, and I've always been pretty damn good at being myself, or else I really wouldn't make so many misguided fashion decisions. It's just that when your hungover, angry, still slightly maudlin, and tell yourself you should write something, you tend to write things of this nature. But one year later, as I again shit my pants in the wake of the realization that my immature self is fast approaching the real world, I feel pretty much the same person, and I'm about 78% proud of that fact. I still lack self esteem, I still don't know what I'm doing in school (though by no means do I hate it, I just still don't

know what a Marketing major actually does), and I still sip 'n scribe (copyright DK). In my effort to embrace life, I feel I am doing so. A man named Robert once told me to "Rage", and I try to live my life by his words. I am drinking beers. I am going to a double-island fantasyland called New Zealand. I am seeing a Wilco concert. Will I steal street signs or break hilarious objects, well that is yet to be seen, but I feel whatever happens it will be right. Either way, what I think I'm trying to get at as I lay in my bed and sip a pseudo-American Budweiser, is that I'm content. Basically, on a list of emoticons, I'm a standard smiley face, and in a world where Avatar & Twilight are considered groundbreaking and Sandra Bullock is up

for an Oscar, I think that's all I can ask for - in fact, I'm overjoyed. So here's to you, fellow comrades and TSTLN'ers, cheers, I love y'all (except perhaps for whoever CR is, I think that's more lust than anything else). Hey, I just wrote a whole paragraph without even cursing, maybe I am growing up.

SB: The Face of Evil

2010-02-04T23:19:00.003-05:00

While optimists such as Meag McKeron speak of the joyous faces of puppies, all I can think of is the face of evil. The hippo. You may not think these here hippos look evil, but deep down they are carnivorous assholes who prey on the helpless and roll around in their own doo doo. If you see a hippo in swamplike area lake thing, do not, I repeat, DO NOT go swimming or fishing in that same body of water. They WILL get you.

BB: Rage - A Social Commentary

2010-02-04T21:34:00.002-05:00

Rage. Most love it, a select few live it. Wikipedia (a veritable treasure trove of information endorsed by academics everywhere) defines rage as, “a mental state that is one extreme of the intensity spectrum of anger”. While I’m a simple Nebraska boy so I dont done reckon I know what an “intensity spectrum” is, but I do know that Wikipedia done got it wrong. I’ve since tried to edit this page, but I am still blocked from editing Wikipedia for past transgressions. I digest. Getting back to the topic at hand, rage is defined by myself as an expression of disdain for societal constraints. Society, however, is a big fish (great movie) to fry, so often it is necessary to take performance-enhancing drugs. Now, i’m not talking about steroids, HGH, or dietary fiber. What I AM (yahweh) referring to is the crisp pilsner taste of natural light or its more powerful and mysterious cousin natural ice. With such aids (too soon) one can perform the noble task of sticking it to the Man, i.e. society. Whether its urinating in public(now a sexual offense in several states), stealing hilarious street signs, or breaking hilarious objects, rage empowers the individual to do what he/she pleases, regardless of what stuffy old society says. I had the opportunity to fully live rage in the land of new Z’s. There, police don’t carry weapons and thus are pushovers. Even without rageahol, one feels empowered. With the addition of a few bottles of what happened, one can show the kiwi establishment who’s boss. Whether it was breaking handrails and trash cans, urinating on landmarks of national significance, or blockading highways with the help of the ubiquitous safety cones, I really showed that stupid country why the rage, white, and blue gets it right. Here in Amurica, rage is so prevalent that society and its butt-buddy government have created all sorts of laws and statutes to hinder individual expression. In order to counter this, we, as Americans, must rage even harder to overcome such fetters. I never realized until I trekked to NZ that Americans rage harder than any other nation. (Though I did see us defeat Germany [again!] in the cinematic adventure Beerfest) As the keepers of rage, Americans have a responsibility to the world to show them the light. Citizens need no longer chafe under the yokes of totalitarian regimes. Indeed, if Iranians (Persians) raged more, instead of wearing nice jewelry and designer clothes, their oppressive government would surely crumble. With this in mind, I leave you (the reader) with the words of a true titan of rage, the Reverend Dr. Sir Martin Luther King Jr. M.D. Esq. PhD. who said, “The time is always right to rage”. On this Thursday night, Dr. King, I believe you’re right.
-Bobby Brown

MM: Puppies: My Anti-Drug

2010-02-04T15:48:00.007-05:00

As my days in America dwindle away and I find myself having minor heart attacks every few hours at the thought of flying all the way to the other side of the world to the mysterious and fantastical island of New Zealand, I require something to calm my nerves – some sort of happy potion to take away all my anxiety and transport me to a world where there are no worries, just laughter and love.

My drug of choice: puppy videos. There are various kinds of puppy videos out there on the Youtubes to brighten your mood and melt your heart when you need a nice pick-me-up. This may not work for heartless, puppy-fearing souls such as Christie Welch, but I think a majority of the human population will agree with me when I say, “Puppies are freakin’ awesome.”
(That's my doggie, Gordo, by the way. He enjoys protecting our house from squirrels and stealing gum out of people's purses)

1. HELPLESS PUPPIES
After watching a helpless puppy video, you just want to pick the poor thing up and give it a big hug. How could the wittle doggie’s owner allow such torture to occur? But it does make for wonderful entertainment, I will admit.

Now, if you watched that and are legitimately concerned about whether or not the puppy ever righted itself – fear not! DK found the epic conclusion to this video.

2. FROLICKING PUPPIES
Puppies playing, puppies running around, puppies falling over, etc. Pure puppy fun. This one made me laugh:

3. SLEEPY PUPPIES
We all love puppies when they’re rolling around and jumping on things and having a grand old time, but they are just as entertaining when it’s time to turn it in. Often times they are not quite ready to admit defeat, but eventually sleep wins.

4. PUPPIES VS. CATS
This category is pretty self explanatory. Puppies > Cats. End of story. Try to argue it; I don’t really see how you would win.

5. PUPPIES BEFRIENDING OTHER ANIMALS
Puppies love everyone. For example, this puppy loves a duck. I just hope the guy that adopted the puppy doesn’t plan on eating him. I can’t help but think that every time I see a Chinese man with a dog, due a traumatic 8th grade Social Studies lesson that I really don’t want to get into detail about right now so stop asking me!

6. DUMB PUPPIES
One of the most endearing characteristics of puppies is their stupidity. Whether they are chasing their own tails, terrified of the vacuum cleaner, or, as in this puppy’s case, fascinated by their own reflection, they capture our hearts with their silliness.

7. SCARED/DEFENSIVE PUPPIES
As they become acclimated to their environment, puppies often feel the need to defend themselves and their surroundings. Watch as this dog engages in an epic battle with some really sweet robot that I kind of want.

8. CUTE PUPPIES
Sometimes the puppy doesn’t need to do anything but be adorable. The “happy feet” are not what is cute about this video; Rosie’s good looks carry the whole clip. By the way, this puppy is not doing “happy feet” as her obnoxious owner claims; she simply wants to get down the stairs! Poor thing.

9. BABIES AND PUPPIES
What is almost as sweet as a puppy (but not quite)?: A BABY! Put the two together and you’ve got an overload of cuteness. This video is a bit drawn out, but just watch at about 0:25. What a beautiful moment.

10. DRUNK SQUIRREL
Yeah I know, squirrels are not puppies. They are not even close to being on puppy level. In fact, they are the worst animal ever to set foot on this planet. But I enjoy watching this rodent struggle after eating fermented pumpkins. Enjoy!

I hope these puppies brightened your day! Don't do real drugs!
Peace out!
Meag