Mr.Saraceno Goes To Washington

It is partly out of unimaginable excitement, and absolute fear that I will be skinned alive by several members of my family if I were to elect to update this blog as infrequently as the past few months, that I write this new post.
Today was the end of the first day of my internship in our nation's capital. As most of you know, I have been accepted into the John Glenn Washington Academic Internship Program (WAIP), which I mentioned in the previous post. It was only last Friday that I found out where exactly I would be interning, a point that had my father parting from any sort of calm demeanor more so than usual, in sort, he no longer had a calm demeanor. I was informed that I had been accepted into the lone open position in the interning staff for Congresswoman Lynn Woolsey of California's 6th Congressional District. After reviewing her sponsorship, and co-sponsorship, on a long list of Bills and House resolutions, not to mention her position on the House Committee on Foreign Affairs, I had been sick to my stomach waiting for the phone call that would tell me whether I had secured the position or not after a thirty minute phone interview on Thursday.
Much of the work I completed today would be exactly what you would expect an intern to do. Answer phones, sort mail, etc. However, unlike most anything I have ever done before, there was a sense that this work, no matter how tasky it might be, was of real importance. This must be one of those "real world" feelings that you get when your work is no longer restricted to positions under an umbrella organization such as a University. This may be the "fervor of the converted" still though. A conversion from the entertainment industry, to the industry of politics. Only time, and further posts on this blog, will tell its truth, I suppose.
I found myself slightly taken aback, which is impressively hard to do any more after 3 years of absurd experiences in OUAB, while during what I imagined to be a simple coffee run for the Congresswoman ended in myself and one other intern standing in front of two very large wooden doors. Through which, I found myself standing in a chambers where a hearing on the new health care reforms were being heard and debated. A meeting which was being recorded for C-Span, or so I was informed by the other intern. A location to which I eagerly returned with a memo immediately after returning to the office.
I've included a number of pictures of my room, and my housing for your mundane veiwing pleasure. I love the location: 223 Constitution Ave. NE. The housing allows me to skip over the need to take any metro to work and simply embark upon a six minute walk.
More to come soon, but seeing as it is Tuesday night, and Wednesday brings with it an 8:30am seminar, as the "Academic" part of the WAIP acronym, I should begin preparing for bed.

Mr. Saraceno Goes To Washington

Before All Is Said And Done

Well, it has been a third of a year since my last post, it is by my best reasoning that anyone who had checked this site with any degree of frequency has since given up hope, ironically enough "hope" being the central word for the Obama campaign, of which I wrote in the previous post. Back to the topic at hand, I fear that attempting to recap the happenings of the past few months would perhaps be too tedious and long for anyone to read through and provide even the basic courteous "nice post" to any convincing degree, so in the spirit of this truth, I will try to be brief enough, so as not to bore, and long enough, to serve as an apologetic posting for my lack of blog activity.
I suppose the most notable things to have happened in the past few months include what most everyone is already aware of. I was first accepted into the John Glenn Washington Academic Internship Program for the Summer of 2009, which is close to impossible apparently. This program was set up by John Glenn after he saw many of the interns in D.C. having a lack of experience, through no fault of their own, as there simply was no mechanism through which they could pursue valuable experience. In the Internship program, I will intern at any organization or political office I wish, as long as they accept me, four days a week, and one day a week I will attend a seminar on policy writing followed by programs throughout the city. Throughout the summer, I've been charged with writing a policy paper that my internship location will be able to use after I leave at the end of the program. Now, I assume this is where you all would be interested in knowing where I'll be interning. . . apparently in the state of the economy, I can't convince people to let me work for them for free. I'm not too worried though. Is it confidence in my body of experience? Is it insider information? Or perhaps is it the fact that the John Glenn program literally guarantees an internship position? I'm going with the latter. Additionally, through my involvement in the International Studies 65th Anniversary Student Advisory Committee (apparently OSU has the second oldest International Studies Department in the US), the advisor, who has more contacts than the Pope, is talking to everyone she knows so as to make sure I get the best internship to match with the program possible.
The internship acceptance began what was to be the "Year of Dan," as I've so underwhelmingly named 2009. I found out later that as this was the first year the John Glenn program was hosted in the Summer, I was in an applicant pool larger than the sum of the Fall, Winter, and Spring applications combined. Shortly after this news, I found out that I was a top five finalist, though I did not receive it, for the Stanley D. Gottsegen Leadership Award. Gottsegen is one of the highest honors that can be awarded to an OSU student, and carries with it a $1,000 scholarship (though you can spend it however). It's application process takes weeks longer than the other awards and had to be broken down into five finalists who were then interviewed. I remember seeing the four other finalists names, I was up against the PResident and Vice-President of my organization, the President of the Undergraduate Student Government, and the President of a newly formed Multi-Cultural Sorority. I believe my exact words were "I think I'm going to throw up."
Later on in the quarter I was accepted into SPHINX Senior Class Honorary. The induction consisted of a number of current SPHINX members dressed in black cap and gowns barging into my room at 7:00am, while I was still asleep, and screaming "Sphinx Links!" I may have screamed out of fear. . . I definitely was embarrassed. What was amazing though, is that my "link," the member of the 2008-2009 SPHINX class who inducted me specifically, was one of the first friends I ever made at OSU, Vicki Bouttavong. I had lived with her back in Scholars West, and she was also an executive member of OUAB with me. SPHINX, as you might see, is a group that has been active at OSU for just over 100 years, and consists of the top leaders of OSU, or as one of my residents put it, in congratulating me, is made up of people who have "sunlight coming out of their asses." It was made to be one of the most incredible experiences of my life when I saw my Mother, Father, Brother, Sister, and Brother-In-Law stroll across the oval to watch as I was inducted into the 103rd class of SPHINX.
A few short days later, my friend Vicki Bouttavong, as last year's Homecoming Queen, once again abducted me, as she inducted me into the 2009-2010 Ohio State Homecoming Court. This was all a bit overwhelming, to say the least, but certainly made up for the decidedly low key 22nd birthday which I had celebrated, less than a week before, by taking an exam earlier in the day, and working late into the night on a damn near impossible take-home Arabic exam, followed by writing a project proposal for another class.
As a final bit of honor I just recently found out that through my involvement in the International Studies 65th Anniversary Student Advisory Committee, I have been given the honor of carrying the banner for the "Colleges of Arts & Sciences" through the commencement ceremony in Ohio stadium this year. I had been slightly upset that as I would not be graduating "on time" that I would not be able to walk across the stage with those friends which I had grown so close to, so it was an absolute honor for me to be able to participate in the ceremony and literally guide them through it.
Aside from this absurd list of honors, I've also dove into two separate endeavors with a level of casualness that apparently I alone am capable of. Firstly, I added a second minor, so I now will be graduating with a minor in Arabic and Middle Eastern Studies. I was also able to work with the advisor so I will still be graduating in the same amount of time. The second endeavor of mine, only about three days or so before the weekend I jumped into a trip to New Orleans. I had always wanted to go, ever since I missed my chance to go when I did the Katrina rebuild back at Kent State. It was amazing! I also enjoyed seeing many of the places my parents had gone to nearly 33 years ago. Places such as the Dauphine Orleans hotel, and Pat O'Brians, where I had a delicious Hurricane in a souvenir glass, just as my parents had bought. I was decidedly disappointed in the array of "voodoo culture" which may have been better years before, but now was defined by head shops featuring items they had shipped from World Market, and the Vatican. Should you be in the market for a cow hide drum, and candles to Saint Jude (the patron saint of lost causes), I have a fist full of places you can go.
Just a fun fact, we drove the entire 15 hour drive stopping only long enough to fuel up, and stayed in an local hostel. I chose to do this for $80 over flying to Florida, staying in the Sheraton, and getting into Disney World for free. The logic is flawless, I know.
Rather than continue to narrate the weekend, I think it best to simply direct you to the photo album I posted of it. So here:

The Big Easy

Digging Out of an Avalanche

Well, this quarter, though only a few weeks old, has most certainly carried it's own set of defining moments. It's been full of an incomprehensible amount of new experiences, and opportunities. Some good, others in a clear inverse.

I've found that it sometimes is necessary to look through my iPhoto library in order to remember everything that's happened. This is generally due to a pattern of data dumping as soon as I finish one task, so that I have enough space in my head to concentrate on what's next on my plate. Looking through them I've found that I completely forgot about seeing a Bruce Springstein concert, meeting Zach Braff, my Jimmy Fallon show, and a free day trip to Hocking Hills (where I was put in charge of keeping tabs on fifty-six graduate students for seven hours in the middle of the woods, on what equated to a trip an elementary school would take; replacing the five year olds with twenty-five to thirty year olds).

In the spirit of this quite literal photographic memory, and in utilization of my newly installed 1G RAM ( I was running off of 256MB before. . . which is the same amount that the Nokia tablet has), I've decided to further delve into the Google universe of applications and begin a web-album, only about four years behind everyone else around here. I don't have too many from my experience at the OSU/Michigan game, as the upload process is a little time consuming and tedious (only five pictures at a time), but it was my assumption that people may be decidedly more interested in an event I attended which defines the future of the world, rather than defining just how many couches will be burned in the hours following (OSU is known for it, I have no idea why).

The greater of the two events which I'd be referring to is the historic inauguration of President Barack Obama. Thanks to my position as the Resident Advisor of Ohio State's International House Learning Community, I had been given the opportunity to accompany seven of my residents to D.C. to, as most everyone described it, "bear witness to history."

Just for a quick run through of the trip itself. I was housed in a hotel in Baltimore (Inner Harbor). I visited D.C. on Sunday, where I met with some interns, and former interns of the John Glenn Fellows program, of which I am supremely interested in. As well as attended the star studded Inaugural Concert. On Monday, in the spirit of MLK jr. Day, I volunteered at a Baltimore free store, which provides clothes, furniture, and an array of other needs for low income families free of charge. This was housed in an old wooden warehouse which was every bit as cold inside as it was outside. Then on Tuesday, after going to sleep at 1:00am, I woke up at 2:00am and left for D.C. where I arrived to be shuttled to a drop off point on the highway by one of a collection of nearly 100,000 buses commissioned for the explicit duty of spectator shuttling. It was humorous, and in its own way inspiring, to see any manner of vehicle which could run on four wheels and carry at least 45 people, line up as far as the eye could see, waiting to carry the estimated 2.2 million people that would be attending into the city. This included any public transport, area services, private charter, and even those buses made to appear as a trolley.

The bus dropped us off on the highway a few miles from the national mall, and I do mean it dropped us off ON the highway, which had been shut down to allow the shuttles, National Guard Humvees, and the mind-numbing numbers of undercover cars from the Secret Service/FBI/CIA (or whomever). Ironically these "undercover cars" stuck out more than a socially adjusted female at a comic book convention. All of which being jet black Chevy Suburbans with intensely tinted windows, that would occasionally flip on their red and blue lights which were tucked behind their front grill, and shadowed behind their rear window tint.

Once off the bus I was ushered through the city by National Guard patrols, and large highway signs which read "National Mall This Way." It was a really good experience if you ever wanted to know how all those longhorns felt in any number of old westerns when they were herded by cowboys armed to the teeth, apparently waiting for one of the heard to do something unexpected, like stop.

Once at the mall, at approximately 6:30 or 7:00am, I was greeted by the dawning sun, as all the previous events had been shrouded by the awkwardly long darkness of Winter, oddly no security to speak of, and about half a million other people. Once I had secured my position on the mall, a little less than halfway down away from the Capital Building next the the Smithsonian Castle, I proceeded to stand and be cold for the next four and a half hours.

It was during this time that most everyone around us came into agreeance that "this just wasn't worth it." However, once 11:30am came, and we began to indeed "bear witness to history," I have no doubt that these thoughts had been quelled, as the words echoed across the heart of our nations capital, that a new leader had assumed our most sacred seat, and that perhaps after the long darkness that had shadowed us during this Winter the sun would be rising for a new Spring, which promised to never again give way to our nations Fall, or again to its Winter.

Obama's Inauguration

. . .And We're Back

So, it seems my ordeal with my computer is finally at an end. As some of you may, or may not, have known, my beloved Mac Mini had decided to turn on me, and seize itself up at the most inopportune moments. The freeze would be accompanied by a rather uninspiring buzz originating from within the confines of the computer itself, which has been, and continues to be, a mystery to me. After about a week of operating off the Nokia Internet tablet (which I once again profess my profound gratitude toward my Uncle Larry and Aunt Martha for allowing me to use this school year), writing e-mails and researching what my Mac's problem might be, I found that the most likely culprit to be a faulty hard drive. Now my experience with the inner workings of computers has long been defined by my first attempt to insert a CD into my Uncle's desktop. At which point I proceeded to push the disc into the 5.25" floppy drive, perhaps not a good omen for any successful history in computer technologies. So I thought it best to forgo the chance to replace the hard drive myself, and cough up the $36 to have someone who actually knows what they're doing do it. Especially when the best advice I received on how to open the Mini was to employ either a putty knife or thin spatula.
To shorten what could surely prove to be a less than riveting recounting of a week long process, I'll provided this paraphrased version of what was then to come. I took multiple trips to Micro Center, and found their services, though helpful, extremely expensive. I bought a 500G LaCie external hard drive, which I'm relatively certain I'm not using to its full potential, as I dumped all my documents, pictures, and music onto before replacing the internal hard drive, only to re transfer them onto the new internal model. I replaced the original 40G internal hard drive with a new 160G one, it was the smallest size, thus most inexpensive model, they carried. This all totaling to around $225, minus the gas spent driving back and forth. Needless to say I had adopted a bit of a salty demeanor discovering the extent of the charges I would need to front. Mostly after I received the "recommendations" from one of the service members of Micro Center, which would have amassed a total bill to around $400, just a cool $100 shy of a new Mini. Anyone familiar with my stance on spending money, ever, coupled with my disdain for salespersons who seek to increase their sales numbers by pushing products or services on people who neither need nor can afford them, would then expect my attitude to take a less than delightful turn. All has been worked through, and I now am posting to you on my fully operational Mac. I do regret that I now have to reset many small preferences, which I had taken for granted before, but a working Mac is, by far, preferable to a customized broken one.
Well, in other news I've now been at Ohio State for about two full weeks, and have settled in quite nicely. I am hopeful that the chance acquisition of a ticket to see The Mars Volta, one of the few bands I know enough about to talk about on more than a base, "yeah, I like that song," level, will serve as a sign of good things to come. I nearly hawked the ticket to a scalper outside the venue, as I had to skipped a staff dinner, and would be attending the show by myself, also figuring I would be at a notably distant point from the stage, seeing that I arrived after doors had opened for new ticket holders (the band had come two previous times and cancelled both times, so all those who had tickets to either of those shows were allowed in earlier). While inside I took up a spot about 3/4 away from the stage, near the back of the "pit," or the open area where you are forced to stand in exchange for a closer position to the stage. While waiting I was able to validate what was described as a rather mundane lifestyle in middle school, as I witnessed near carbon copies of my adolescent nemesises, not four feet away, discussing amongst themselves just how cool they were. The average age sitting somewhere around fifteen. These self-assured badasses found security in their coolness as one recounted how he "gets mistaken for a sophomore in college all the time," to which I would generally let out a rather deafening "bull shit." The kid came equipped with moshing gloves, or what I imagine he thought them to be. Leather gloves with the fingers and knuckles cut out. He then proudly announced his distinguished history in concert attendance: Puddle of Mudd, Green Day. . . about 14 times, Seether, Papa Roach, and so on. For those unfamiliar with these bands, I would tend to label most of them as a "guilty pleasure," at best. Ones that you do anything but announce to the world that you paid money to see. But perhaps I am being a tad too harsh on the boy, as he seemed to be the only one who passed on the orange Sharpie which his other cronies found great pleasure in jamming up their nose, and sniffing to their hearts content.
Getting back to the concert itself, I was able to distance myself from the teen squad, a bonus as the six or so of them found immense joy in trying to start a mosh, or in other words a "kick the shit out of each other fest," that none of the actual sophomores in college seemed to join in on. . . huh, odd. By about halfway through the show I had made my way, via what I call the ratchet effect, to the second row, dead center of the stage, where I stayed for the remainder of the performance. The ratchet effect consists of allowing the inevitable tidal push of the sea of people behind you to advance you forward, but firmly standing your ground when the tide retreats. The concert was amazing, and lasted a solid two hours and fifteen minutes, without break or opening act. I don't believe I've enjoyed a concert so much before.
Well, as the dull roar of the stadium leaks into my room through my open window, I'm reminded that there's a whole world outside, and I should be getting back to it. So until next time. . .

Here, There, and Everywhere

Well, it has certainly been awhile since my last post, placing me once again in the hypocritical spotlight, as I mentally accost those who update infrequently on their own blogs, all the while ignoring my own irregular tendencies. Seeing as I still was at OSU the last time I posted, that would place this post around a month and a half later. And seeing as, due to the absurd nature of events that tend to define my life, which make any given day capable of filling several chapters in the yet unpublished and unwritten "Life of Dan," which, due to lack of willingness to obstruct my nap schedule, I tend to imagine will never be written (fear not, I never really intended that I or anyone else should undertake this endeavor), it stands to reason then that I've had much to write about, much time to write it, and no fruits of these two qualifying conditions, which, when paired with my outward critiques, culminate in my own aforementioned hypocrisy.
The first few weeks of this summer had been employed as semi-relaxation periods, in which I continued to do my work with OUAB, and further increase my stress levels, but beyond this, not much was accomplished, which seems to scream a negation of my "everyday shit happens" statement made a few short sentences ago, though in far more graceful vocabulary, but seeing as I'd rather speak in mild hyperbolas than even lengthier footnoted exceptions, I'll continue to let things like this slide, which means you probably should as well, as I don't intend on changing that fact in this format anytime soon, and your failing to relax on this issue may lead to your suffering any number of mildly serious stress induced disorders from keeping track of these minor inconsistencies. Continuing on, much of this time frame was spent meeting up with old friends, sleeping away most all, if not very much all, of the morning hours, and lounging around the house.
While this Labowski-esque lifestyle would, in theory, or perhaps more accurately, cinematicaly, have no repercussions on the psyche, I did in fact become distinctly bored, and found myself referring to me, more and more often, as a "waste of space." Not to say that the first few days didn't hear me utter those words about myself, but the sincerity of such statements were never really present until the latter part of those two weeks. It may be at this point that the, "what will be,will be," mantra rung true. Which, if I'm not mistaken, I referred to previously in a post, as I lamented my lack of acceptance into multiple internship programs.
After speaking one night with my Aunt Martha and Uncle Larry, I learned about Akron, Ohio's International Institute, which served to better the lives of refugees in the Akron area. Working with refugees had been something I looked at doing in Columbus, but seeing as it was a volunteer position there, just as here, and I would have to pay for food and housing along with untold other expenses, not featured here, I decided against the Columbus venture.
After an application, and short interview had been fulfilled, I began work at the institute teaching English to refugees from Burma, Nepal, and a number of other areas. Though teaching to read, write and speak English to around forty people whom, at any given time, a significant number of which are illiterate in their native language, and an overwhelming majority know absolutely no English, by using nothing but English, has been the gravest test of my commitment, fortitude, and speaking skills (Which tend to be implemented most often for speeches at University conventions, or grant proposals. Carrying with it, a lexicon which, though I attempted to avoid my first day, led to the ultimate confusion of just about everyone), I've never been so happy or proud of what I am doing. Damn fate!
I would tend to argue, however, that much of my communicational difficulties suffered that first day, had more to due with the fact that I was prepared to teach a small group of "level 3" students, who already can speak English semi-fluently, and work on more sophisticated vocab, and grammar structures, which is the level I had been told I would initially be assisting to teach, only at the last minute to be traded like a cheap deck of cards. After getting a rather jarring feel for how I would need to restructure my approaches, and moving to an even larger class, things have becoming increasingly more progressive and enjoyable.
In other news: Just this past weekend, I made a trip back down to Ohio State, leaving Thursday night and returning around 2pm on Saturday. What struck me immediately was just how empty campus had become. At 10:30pm, a time relatively early into the evening during any other academic quarter (lending reasoning to why its streets would normally be considerably populated by students and whomever else), I would see only one, maybe two people at best, at any given time. That night I watched the midnight release of "Batman: the dark knight," which, though long (2.5 hours), was quite phenomenal. I then returned to my friends house, where I would be staying for the next two nights, to find his neighbor's house broken into (while the houses occupants were there and awake), along with a cacophony of police cruisers. Much of this stay, which reminded me just how odd my life can be, consisted of some minor administrative meetings, and a few catching up moments with old friends. Though the parallels are quite possibly outweighed by a few notable exceptions, walking around that empty campus, during the day as well, I was reminded of when someone who declares "High School was the best four years of my life!" (footnote: no way in hell do I consider myself one of those people), returns to the halls of their Alma Mater over the summer to finish some pre-college/post-graduation paper work, and there is nothing but the cold lockers, muggy uncirculated air, and the distant hum of a floor buffer being run by that janitor that you never really did figure out the gender of.
I do wish I was able to visit the Steidl Forest Pow-Wow, by no means did any members of the Steidl family refer to their "cabin" adventure by this title, but due to some confusion on times with people at OSU, I was continually unsure of what times I had free, and what times I had to be back, which made the hour drive impractical by the time things were sorted out at 7:30pm on Friday.
Well, seeing as it is now 4:15 am and I'm starting to take naps while continuing to write, I feel that my best option is to cut things off here, rather than risk a serious head collision with the keyboard and table, or in the least providing a string of inane accounts, well decidedly more inane accounts than usual. Until my next fit of hypocrisy. . .

Metaphorically Banging My Head Against The Wall

So my junior year at Ohio State is coming to a close. I've been done with my exams since Monday now, so I'm pretty much just sitting around, checking residents out of their rooms, and distracting other unfortunate souls who still have exams to study for. I seem to be finishing the year pretty strong, as it stands now A-, A-, B+, A; but I have this nice awkward feeling that, even though the grades would beg to differ, I haven't really learned too much of anything this quarter, other than how to swing some decent grades without really applying myself.
I think that I may be done with my one quarter stint as a Communication major, which is very comforting news when you're going into your senior year. I've been looking into why I liked Anthropology, and what had attracted me to Communication, as well as my lamenting not being a Business major at such a prestigious Business school, when they seem to be opening their doors to me a bit too late. Basically it has boiled down to, or at least for time's sake, a few key points. Anthropology: I love cultures, and actually found my last course, which dealt with the globalization of capitalism in the developing world, to be a redeemer for a major which has jaded me with the cranial capacities, "interesting" features, and time frame of about twenty five hominids (aka cavemen/monkeys). Communication: I love what I do in OUAB, and was looking at a career of it, but a few things came into play. Firstly, I'm not actually helping anyone, which sucks. Secondly, apparently the Communication school at OSU is considered, by in large, laughable by people even in the major. Spending so much time and money at a school like OSU, I would at least hope to emerge with a degree that carries some extra weight to it. Finally, I'm not all that interested in Communicational studies. In the broad sense, I am, but acutely speaking, I'm much more interested in interaction itself, rather than the theories there of. Business: My interest in a Business major stem from two things. 1: I like achieving things that accompany respect (Fisher College of Business is 12th in the nation), I'm an attention whore, but we already knew this. 2: I actually like the business side of what I do for OUAB. I'll lay out numbers to figure out the best price per capita cost for an event, my own or others.
So where does this leave me? Hell if I know. There is a major called "World Economy and Business," which blends studies in the College of Business, such as "Feast or Famine: the global business of food," and "International Marketing," with International Studies. The nice thing is that it is still under the College of Arts and Sciences, my present college, so the General Education Courses should, key word "should," be the same. Calculating out, I'll be here one extra quarter, but that's better than a full victory lap ("victory lap": due to an increasing number of college students requiring a fifth year to complete their degree program, rather than the traditional four, the term "victory lap" has been assigned to their fifth year. This is in reference to circuit races where the winning driver, after completing course laps of the given race, takes an addition lap around the circuit in a show of victory, generally to applaud and fanfare.).
Switching topics. What is interesting about the summer, which now is rushing head on light a freight train, is that their is a great sense of urgency and Big Lebowski "dude-ism" to it. I want in the worst way to start getting ready for this "real world" I'm supposed to be working in soon, so the will to find a bankable internship or experience is getting to me, to say the least, while at the same time, I like the idea of being free to move around a bit. There had been plans mentioned to visit a friend studying in Spain, with a stop in the UK, where another friend of mine from Kent lives, and had offered me a place to stay if I visited. I also would love to make a second trip to LA, which I still talk to people about. Be quite assured however, the Catch 22 of this situation is not lost on me: I need a job to get money and afford any excursion, as well as this Ohio State education, but I need free time too, in which to make such trips. I think it is the even more domineering thought of graduation, which has me scrambling to travel while I can. All I have heard, again and again, is "Travel while you're in college. You'll never have the time, money, or ability to do it again. The real world (there that term is again) takes too much from you to allow these kind of things." But I can barely afford this "pseudo-world" as is, and taking a break like that would, for lack of a better term, kill me financially.
Granted there's always the go to, return to Water Works, but I like being a man of my word, and when I announced, "There's no way in hell I'm coming back next year," I'd like to stay true to that. Especially after my declaration was met with the almost cliched response of "You'll be back." It would seem, however, that my options are disappearing quickly, as spots have been filled long ago for many internships, and my experiences wont carry me as far as I thought. Now must decide between resume building volunteer positions, or pittance paying odd jobs, such as the bakery, which doesn't really do much of anything for me professionally speaking. I suppose I'll figure out these details in due time, I always do, or perhaps time always seems to decide for me.

Fear And Loathing In Columbus

Granted I've never seen Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, yet the two terms tend to string themselves together in a manner that so well exemplifies my present thoughts on, well everything right now, I felt it necessary to utilize the reference. After submitting a cacophony of resumes and cover letters to pretty much any company stretching from New York City to LA, or least those companies that I have at least an iota of interest in, and receiving either rejection notices, or refusal to answer/return calls, I've become a little frustrated, to say the least. I've seen my abilities and responsibilities grow, only to have them drop to nothing as I inch closer and closer to returning to that cement hell that has become my past four summers. Where all that University knowledge and expertise has culminated into my fishing some kid's shit out of the water for $7.50/hr. Though a job is a job, as I have proven my commitment to in taking some of the worst side careers in exchange for some extra dough, I feel it is time that I start getting something to put on a resume that actually invokes some level of respect. Not to say I'm against getting a killer tan in a week, as I make jokes about the blondies lathering up with oil to try to catch up. I feel like, "proven genetics, which allow to tan to what people consider another race" is far less lucrative than one might initially think, when bulleted on a resume. So some sort of real world experience, aside from what I do in OUAB, might be of benefit. I suppose I'm more or less just frustrated that no matter how hard I work, and how much I do, it never seems enough to secure the positions I apply for: Google, Homecoming Court, Sphinx Senior Class Honorary, Live Nation. . .
I tossed around the idea of an internship abroad for the summer, only to remember that I do not have a passport, which is necessary even if I just wanted to take a trip to hang out with the McKenzie brothers anymore.
Match this dread of, what should be, the best part of the year, with mounting responsibilities in OUAB, as Colbert declined our original offer; which is still salvageable, provided I manage to coordinate a near unprecedented event schedule, and can convince several people of some workable conditions, both in and outside of OSU. This has me a little worried, as I've increasingly begun to doubt my skills in persuasion, due to several recent failed attempts.
Also take into consideration that I, once more, am doubting my present major, as person after person states the abysmal level of my new major program. And to sprinkle some extra spice onto things, consider that my present job, quite literally, makes going home the equivalent of going to work, as well as a fried brain, academically speaking, which knows that it needs to work even harder if it's going to get above a 3.45 in order to beat out that other guy who keeps kicking my ass for jobs.
Roll all this together, and what do you have? A stress level that has ceased to allow me to function as a human being anymore.
The slight light at the end of the tunnel is that I will no longer have to work on my academics over the summer, though the lack of a bankable occupation, and continuing OUAB dealings will still make it their job to turn the light into a freight train.
Recently I've been looking towards finding a intern position in some sort of research, or even as a volunteer to help teach English to refugees, which would admittedly be amazing. I've been continually telling myself that "what was meant to be will be," which has proven surprisingly accurate thus far, yet honestly, the whole "fate twists events like a cloth between its fingers" bullshit is getting a little old right now.
I did have a bit of a revelation last Friday however, which has given me just enough pride to carry on through, when I was working the Flight of the Conchords show. I was standing on the restricted side of the stage barricade, watching the show, next to the stage, with Flight's agent, and about three other people. I looked out at the 7,000 or so that filled the lower bowl, and thought about how none of them had the privilege I had at that moment, how I was given special right to stand where I was standing, due to the work I had done in the best University programming board in the nation (I'm not being all conceded on that last point, we actually were titled that in 2007). Even other OUAB members could not stand where I was at that moment. It was an amazing feeling.
Well it has become late, and I have things to do, namely sleep, so I will leave you on this high note (and with this picture), after a long detailing of the anatomy of my stress.

Shaking Hands With Indisputable Power

This is a picture of me and Frank Lucas, not the picture I spoke of earlier, which he specifically asked me to join him in, but was one of the "cut and paste" photo ops. By "cut and paste" I mean, the talent stands in one place, as one person after the other saunters up, tries to make some memorable quip of a remark, puts on a goofy ass smile that they think looks natural enough for people to mistake them as friends with *insert name here* and walks away, repeat this process about twenty times. Either way, this is the only picture I have, I did not give any contact info to the, once more I'm at a loss for a correct word, fan who took the other picture.

You Can Call Me "Curly"

So Yesterday (Monday that is), I was afforded the chance to work a show with the most notorious heroin dealer of all time, Frank Lucas. If the name doesn't ring a bell, he is the true life figure behind the film American Gangster, being played by Denzel Washington. Lucas was brought to OSU as a featured lecturer through OUAB. Now I know this is already an iffy topic with, well mostly everyone. I'm not blind to the fact that Hollywood has succeeded in popularizing and celebrating another criminal figure. One could argue that this has been done with Al Capone, as well as Don Corleone, from the Godfather series, but there is something very distinctly different here. Firstly, Don Corleone was never real, so we can forgive him any assassinations and dirty dealings, though the movie and book make note that he refused to deal in drugs, perhaps giving this fictional character, who is in no need of defending, some decency. Secondly, Al Capone was never a figure that would be allowed to step into a public University, and even if he had, certainly not to a room filled at least one-hundred people past capacity, all cheering, and asking to meet him. At least not back then. Capone does, if nothing else, seem to lay the foundation for a welcomed criminal celebrity. Given a different manner of portrayal, perhaps not Denzel, or perhaps not with the massive response from the Hip Hop Community, pulling famously retired rapper Jay-Z back into recording under Frank Lucas' fame, maybe the public would have held a very different response to his arrival. That being said, it is worthwhile to note that Lucas has since renounced his past doings, named crooked cops to be imprisoned, and started a foundation under the tag line "Get Grades, Not Drugs, Not Guns."
While working the event, I was asked to be the green room guard, along with another OUAB member. I tend to think that we were chosen simply due to our height, as me being intimidating is almost completely laughable. The man I saw before me, the one from all the pictures we had posted around campus, the strong domineering figure portrayed on the silver screen, had now been reduced to a wheelchair, with limited use of his hands. No matter the person, I find it saddening to see such a reversal of existence. See also: Uncle Pauly, Samson, or Jurgis. I began talking to him strictly for business sake. We needed some DVDs and pictures signed, so I asked him if he wouldn't mind, as well as helping him with the pictures and pens. I didn't know what to say, not for a lack of knowledge of what place in history he held, I was acutely aware of his past, more for a lack of certainty. Though I had never seen American Gangster, I did know of the famous scene with the $25,000 alpaca rug which was stained with blood. We didn't speak much to each other, I explained he could stop whenever, and very little beyond that. After a bit, I mentioned that some people wanted to know if he had in fact told a butler, "That's $25,000 alpaca! You blot that shit!" as the man tried to remove the recent blood stain from a man Frank had shot. Frank laughed and told me that had really happened. He asked a man who never left his side named Ruben, I apologize if I should know their relationship, if he too was there, which Ruben nodding his head agreed to the affirmative. Frank then continued to inform me that that particular rug was $25,000 back in 1968, working with inflation it would be about $200,000 now. Either way, it's one hell of a rug. Seeing me laughing about the image of such a scene, he then continued on to tell me that he sincerely regretted that moment everyday, but he had done it, there is nothing that he could do now. He stated that that is how to live one's life. Do not lull on what has already happened, for you cannot change that, but rather look at what you can do now to fix it. This coming from a man whose net worth in a heroine smuggling ring in the 1960's grossed to one billion dollars.
After awhile, I began to talk with Lucas more and more. A man who first came off very business like, and intimidating proved to be extremely sociable and kind. He spoke so highly of his young son of 10, who earned straight A's. He would call to the janitorial staff to come and have a talk with him. After a while Frank began to call me Curly, not the most fitting name perhaps, but I was obliged to take to it. He asked me what I was studying, and introduced me to a man who remained unnamed though certainly not unintimidating, as he recommended that I look into working for the government. We continued to talk, and no matter what I would speak of, be it school work, or High School Swim Team, he would ask me why I was not the best, with a little laugh, but with a tone that indicated a true level of seriousness. After resting from a run to the nearest food stop to retrieve some coffee for Lucas, someone who was in the back room, a random fan, "fan" is not the right word but it works, who was already back there when I arrived, asked Frank if he could have a picture of him alone. Frank wheeled up next to the couch I was sitting on and said "Curly, get in this picture" I responded "I don't think they want a picture of me Sir" to which he added "I don't care, I want a picture with you" I didn't quite realize how unique that was until later, when people were enamored by that specific aspect of my back room experience.
There's a lot more, but it gets too dull to write, or perhaps I just lack the will to word it well enough. The lecture itself was well done. The entire format consisting of Q&A with an OUAB executive member. During the audience Q&A, things began to get a little ridiculous as people began to ask favors and for special meetings, followed by a bum-rush onto the stage, with me alone holding back, quite uselessly, the oncoming sea of people, with the proverbial broom.
An interesting part of the night was when an audience member asked if he had in fact shot and killed a man on the street as was portrayed in American Gangster. Lucas then proceeded to inform the questioner that there was no statute of limitations on murder, thus if you murdered a man 100 years ago you may still be tried and convicted of it. He then ended his comment with, "and that's all I have to say about that." This left the audience in an uproar of laughter. It's not quite Colosseum scale, cheers for murder, but it's warranted enough to make mention of, I think.
It was strange how excited I was after the event was over and Frank said good bye. I can't even remember how many people I told about it. What was sobering though was the call I made the next day to my Father. A man who is generally as giddy as me, toned down certainly, but the key notes in his voice are always there. I told him about who I met, and the nickname, and so many more things I didn't have time to mention here. And all of these were met with "yup. . . mmm-hmmm. . . alright." I immediately thought of when I was about 13 years old asking if I could have a 1:12 scale replica of Al Capone's mob car, to which my father would answer "He's a criminal!" Capone seeming more like an iconic celebrity than a murdering "drug" lord (alcohol counted back then). Perhaps Capone and Lucas are not so different.
I cannot say I did not find Frank Lucas to be a good man in the time that I knew him, but my opinion of a few hours is perhaps negligible when compared to history's.

"Someday You Will Find Me Caught Beneath The Landslide. . ."

Well, it has been a little bit since my last post, certainly less than the previous lapse though. As you may have noticed, I've changed things a bit, the Kittinger photo being the most obvious. Kittinger was the true first man in space. Before Armstrong or Gagarin made their famous voyage, this guy was strapped to a weather balloon, with the first space suit (which failed to seal around his hand) and floated into legal space (106,000 feet). He then was given the lofty task of jumping from his wicker basket and parachuting back to earth. On the decent he broke the speed of sound, before hitting the denser atmosphere below and slowing down. I don't know why, but I always have found his story fascinating, and a little emblematic. During the three hour ascent he surely must have begun to consider his little basket a safe haven, and then he had to leap from it into an unknown void. The point being, he would have died had he remained in the basket, which he felt to be protective, floating off into the dead depths of space. Reguardless, the picture above is a shot of him falling back to earth, taken from a camera mounted to the bottom of the basket.
As the post title may indicate, I've been a bit overwhelmed lately. Just a side note to that; it is quoted correctly, as it is not a feeble attempt to pick out Stevie Nicks lyrics from "Landslide," as it's from "Champaign Supernova" by Oasis.
Much of the stress has been due in large part to my intent focus on the future, and general ignoring of the now, at least when it comes to academics. This has gotten exponentially worse after I decided to finally change my major to Communication only last week. After nearly three full years as an Anthropology major I have to start all over again. All of the Gen Ed classes remain the same, as Anthro and Comm are in the same college, but I still have to do some catching up if I expect to get out of here in any sort of timely manner. As of now, If I take four classes for three quarters, I've come rather accustomed to three at a time, I can graduate, sans minor, in only one extra quarter. Not my favorite option, but figuring in that I transfered, and switched majors late, that's not all that bad.
While talking to my adviser, she thought that I should check out Fisher College of Business, currently ranked fifth among public Universities and twelfth overall in the nation. Fisher is notorious for rejecting applicants. It runs through a two application system. First you apply to be a general business student, but in order to graduate you will have to specialize. My adviser suggested Marketing. In order to specialize you will have to apply yet again. Many students will remain in a "Pre-Business" stage, as they can not even make it into the college their firsr few years, if and when they then manage to, generally as a sophomore or junior, they are then stuck in the limbo-esque stage of General Business applying frantically to become a fully specialized major. This is generally achieved just before or within their Senior year. Then they only have around four to six classes to go.
The reason for me mentioning all this is that while I visited one of the Fisher College advisers, I was told that I could basically skip this entire process and become a fully specialized Business major practically that day if I chose. He sat with my grades, both those earned at Ohio State and Kent, and went on and on about my ability to succeed. As he walked me through what would be necessary to graduate I found that I would have to take four courses at a time through Winter of 2010. A workload that I wasn't entirely keen on, especially figuring the course-work I would be covering: accounting, economics, etc. Which as far as I've gathered from other Business majors, are veritable soul eaters. While it was extremely flattering to hear these special opportunities I'd be afforded, I know I would be extremely unhappy doing this, and decided to let it pass, though grateful for the offer.
It might also be worth noting that my ADD had gotten the best of me just discussing Business Marketing, not exactly the best sign for a future in the major. While the man was feeding me his string of praise, I amused myself with the lyrics to a song "Paper Planes" by the next music talent OUAB is bringing, MIA: "All I want to do is *gun-shot* (x4), and a *gun-hammer cock* *cash drawer* and take your money." Complete with hand gestures under his desk. This kinda sounds like I've taken to gangsta rap, which I do have a found spot for TuPac and Nororious BIG, but I find this song extremely infectious in that its course lyrics are set to an uplifting pop beat and are sung by a very beautiful, very small, British-Shrilankin girl who dresses as if it is 1993.
Bringing things back to the statement that I'm getting caught beneath a torrent of stress and work. . . This might be due in part also to my fears that I will be returning for a fifth year to Water Works as a lifeguard for my summer employment. As some of you may have heard, I did not receive the position at Google that I was so very excited about. I was pretty down about that for awhile, but have since tried to push for more. There is a position in Seattle which I have applied for, but seeing as I know absolutely no one out there, makes it a bit of a jump from a wicker basket (nice full circle momment if you ask me). A friend of mine mentioned that she has family out there which I might be able to rent a room from, which could make things a whole lot less stressful. This is an internship with LiveNation, which puts on the concerts at the House of Blues venues, along with most of the other major venues I've heard of. The position is in Corporate Sponsorship/Sales, and sounded pretty interesting, so I hope to see something come of it. I was contacted a short while ago for some basic information: can I get college credit (since it's unpaid I will need to get this, which I can), and did I have any plans to go to Seattle (Which I said my plans are to go wherever I get an internship). I'll keep you up-to-date on this. There are several more I would like to apply for, but which require a cover letter. As I have never written one, I want to make a stop at career services to get some help first, before trying to butcher one out myself.
Well, seeing as a general lack of sleep may also be a decent contributer to my stress levels, I'm going to take a quick nap, before going off to the first of two meetings today. Huzzah!

A Short Recap Of A Long Period Of Time

Hypocrisy is an astounding thing. I sat just moments ago, being a bit judgmental that I had not seen any new blog postings from my family, only to realize that I in fact have been the most lax in the posting department. So first allow me to apologize for some bitter assumptions you were never even aware of, and then further continue with what I have been up to since January, as that was my last posting.
On the more vain part of things, I worked a Will Ferrel show, put on by OUAB of course. Most of my job consisted of sitting in the front row as a seat warmer for an unnamed VIP, which never actually showed. While the show was funny, there was not too much to comment about, perhaps this is due to distance in time, for which I apologize, as my retelling of the night might certainly have been more interesting had I written this sooner. Or perhaps my lack luster retelling is due more in part to my more recent experience as shows have begun to lose their overwhellmingness that they once possessed. In either case, I will end it at, I met him for about two minutes in a room with about twenty other people, and he seemed nice enough.



A far more interesting topic, I suppose, would be my trip to St. Louis. For those of you who had not heard, I had applied to attend the NACA (National Association for Campus Activities) national conference in St. Louis, through OUAB. The organization would then select up to five members to attend and pay for their airplane tickets and hotel. As one can assume, considering I said "my trip to St. Louis," I was selected. There arose a problem, however, when the demographics of those selected had been considered. I was the only guy out of the four other members and the advisor. I had been told that they could not ask the girls to stay in a room with me, and could not justify spending the money on a room for myself. After stating that I had a strong wish to attend no matter the circumstances, I was then able to stay in a room, on a cot, with some friends of the graduate advisor from The University of Georgia. This worked out quite well, and I became good friends with my roommates and the people from their programming board. Beyond that, the hotel in which I stayed, Regency Grand, was also decidedly for affluent in its accommodations than the Holiday Inn Select which is where the rest of the OUAB crew stayed.
At the conference itself, I was able to meet talent and celebrities from most any field and recent generation imaginable, all looking to be booked by any one of the hundreds of universities attending. From Mr. Belding (Saved by the Bell), to Phil Varone (drummer for Skid Row). The more interesting of meetings would certainly have to be Daryl McDaniels, or DMC from Run DMC. I got decidedly quite nervous, as has only happened once before: the night I met Kat Von D. I started off explaining what an honor it was to meet him, and called him "Sir" just shy of twenty times or so. In whatever case it was to a number I can not be certain of, but still to a point where neither I, nor Mr. McDaniels, were totally comfortable with. He was quite kind however, and the speech he delivered prior to me meeting him, over the history of hip-hop, was quite well done. It is unfortunate I might add, that his line had been greatly diminished by people wishing to relive their middle school days by rushing to see Lance Bass, former N'Sync singer. The rush was so great that the fifteen foot wide cardboard archway into the meet and greet area was strained to contain the mass which moved beneath it. Perhaps more positively it allowed me to meet McDaniels without too much wait, as I was third in line.
Academically I had become very strained that quarter, due in large part to the trip, which consumed five days, three of which were school days. I ended up with two A-'s and one B+ in Arabic, which I feel lucky to have received.



Beyond all this, the most exciting thing that has happened since my last post, has been my trip to Los Angeles. A trip which I can safely assume most all of you are aware of, as you are either a direct relative of mine, or I've mentioned it to you on far too many occasions. Though the trip was long (two and a half hours to Atlanta with a two hour lay over, followed by a four and a half hour flight into LAX), it was by and large the best trip I have taken to date. I of course insisted that we see the Pacific Ocean, which I had never seen before, and only the fifth time I had ever seen any ocean, and we did so many other touristy things. Above all, seeing Jeff, Anna Marie, and Sebastian (whom I quietly referred to as Sea-Bass only once) was overwhelming. It's a little humorous I suppose in that I can translate the simplest of thoughts into a page long narration, yet I still cant quite convey how much I enjoyed that week, so I think I'll just leave it at that.

Happiness Is A Warm Blog

Things have been a little slow around here, in the sense that nothing eventful has come up. I'm quite possibly the busiest I've ever been, and I've been trying to actually study and not bullshit my way through things, which has been a practice of mine for some time now. This is due to an epiphany realized only after I witnessed the sincere disdain my Cultural Conflict professor retained after receiving a stack of reading quizzes, many brimming with the ripe smell of ambiguous vagueness, that is a hallmark of the common bull shit. He quite blatantly put it that he would much rather receive a paper stating that the student had not done the readings than one trying to convince him otherwise, which he saw as an insult to his own intelligence. Fortunate for me, I had in-fact done the readings. I intend on doing so for the most part, let's be realistic here, of this quarter.
Arabic has become increasingly difficult, and it culminated in a mental breakdown today during a quiz. I could not concentrate, and I could not even make sense of simple words that I know I had heard before. I scheduled a meeting with my professor before class tomorrow so as to get some extra help, as there is pretty much no turning back, language-wise, now, plus I really do enjoy the language and I want to be good at it. By the way Uncle Larry, "Until the blind squirrels. . ." it's not exactly grammatically correct, but close. My stats class is not even registering as far as my academic concerns go. I was afraid after reading reviews on the difficulty level of the course, I am already 1/3 through it, and I still have yet to feel challenged at all. This may be due in large part to my hellacious times with Math 151 and 152, which saw me spending every waking hour studying for even the daily homework assignments.
OUAB is continuing to go well. I will soon be applying to serve as an executive member of the organization, and be more directly involved with talent and venues. This will hopefully be huge on a resume if I do end up selling my soul to the entertainment media monster in exchange for a salary. Tonight was the first event of the quarter that I've worked. It was a lecture on business, as best as I can gather, from Drew, the creator of Toothpaste For Dinner, and Married To The Sea. This is a picture with me and his wife, Natalie Dee. I was really happy to see just how nice they were. Before the picture was taken I was actually not incredibly awkwardly hugging the two of them. I was standing to the side as they hugged each other, and it was said that I was being awkward being by myself. Looking back, my original position was probably the better of the two stances to be taken.



I have been going to every free event possible, since they're free and I dont feel like spending money to be entertained; one of the last being a free showing of "Across the Universe." It was a movie musical based on The Beatles' music, which I will admit that I actually really enjoyed, though I continue to get incredible amounts of flack for this. I even found The Beatles to hold the monopoly on needle time with my turntable for a good few days after the movie. It seems to be a situation with extremes, a person either loved it or hated it, but I have tended not to find any voices in the wasteland between. Most people complain about the LSD trip scenes, which was done in the typical 70s fashion (e.g. color shifts, photo negative effects, and sped up footage) which I found more to be an homage than a true attempt at drug experience representation, or the poor plot development in some parts of the story. I found neither to be all that intrusive in the experience as a whole. Yes, some ends were left a little untied, but hey A: that's life, and B: not every movie has to be an epic, you are allowed to enjoy films of a simpler caliber from time to time.
The RA job has been going. . . it's going. I have had a few program plans running now, the first was a discussion on the Irish in America, inspired by my still, as of yet, unfinished summer reading "How the Irish Became White" by Noel Ignatiev. The program would be augmented by taking 14 residents to a Irish rock concert. With only about two names to pull from out of that category, which people would recognize at least, I chose Flogging Molly since they would be playing in Columbus soon. I ran into considerable trouble finding a professor who possessed any proficient knowledge on the subject, it was then that I switched it to a program on the punk sub-culture, and the stigmas against it. I ended up securing a speaker for both program ideas, and getting approved for the $150 ticket price tag, only to have the ticket office sell off the tickets I had reserved. And such is life. There are other programs I have going, a trip to a tattoo parlor for a discussion on Body Modification, arraignments to attend the Arnold Classic body building competition in Columbus. . . that's about all I've got actually. But I'll think of something else. I also was able to secure $320 for 20 foreign films for the front desk, to be checked out by any resident in my building. OSU tends to operate on a policy of, "You buy it then we'll pay you back," but with tuition due, I dont have the cash to back that up, so I'm going to get a hold of the university credit card which has NO LIMIT! Its a very fun thing to hold, in the purely materialistic capitalist sense of enjoyment, which though I often criticize, I surely subscribe to.
Well, yeah that's about it. . . bye.

I Disgust Myself Sometimes

I just thought I'd make a little note about the great amount of hypocrisy I just recently realized I'm capable of, considering my hatred of all things of a pop culture nature, at least when it comes to what one savvy in such circles would construe as "news," e.g. Brittany Spears' sister getting pregnant, Desperate Housewives, and most all Reality TV. Commentary of which I feel E! Entertainment is quite possibly the greatest culprit. Thus my overzealous interest in working for such a pop cultural news juggernaut becomes quite a point of self loathing. I think I may point my intentions for internship otherwheres, though the job described in the article still remains the new ideal.

Victoria's Secret Saved My Life: and not in the creepy way

So while waiting for the bus this morning I grabbed a copy of The Lantern, Ohio State's student newspaper. It was Friday's issue, which would be disposed of early monday morning when the next issue came out. Normally I abstain from reading the student newspaper, a habit I picked up at Kent State after I began to tire of correcting grammatical mistakes made by the university's journalist hopefuls. I will attest to both paper's usefulness however when the matter of drying a wet bench or jamming a door open becomes an issue. Getting back to the point of this post, which was not taking cheap shots at university newspapers I promise you, it was in this issue that I had found what, for now, seems to be the answer to my professional quandary, regarding what I plan to do for a living. It was an article about an Ohio State graduate who found a job doing PR with Victoria's Secret. The job consisted of booking media appearance, and Victoria Secret events, as well as ensuring that the models were sufficiently happy. This, save the extensive travel mentioned in the article, seems to be doing exactly what I love with OUAB. After reading the article I found myself in a bit of a moral conundrum, as the bus had taken me to church, and my mind kept returning to that article, and, as expected, Victoria's Secret. After getting back to the dorm I immediately began to develop a resume. Not being sure what exactly should be in it, I began to just list all the famous people I had worked with for university events, including one Ron Jeremy and Nina Hartley (the name of the female porn star whose name had previously escaped me). I began to find sample resumes and found that simply name dropping wasn't going to cut it. I also began to search for internships across the US, so that during the summer I would not have to make the walk of shame back into the lifeguard chair at Water Works, after I had touted that I would not be returning. A phrase I had heard so many times only to see the once defiant face return the next year, whistle in hand. Some of the most interesting seem to be with E! Entertainment in LA, who generally requires little to no experience. Positions to which I plan to submit a resume for within the very near future.
If you want a look at the article: http://media.www.thelantern.com/media/storage/paper333/news/2008/01/04/Arts/Recent.Osu.Grad.Gets.Victoria.Secret.Dream.Job-3146230.shtml

Comfortably Numb in Columbus

I've been back in Columbus for my first full day, and already it is back to business. Classes started today. I attended my first class this morning at 9:30, which afterwards I promptly dropped. I actually really enjoy the professor teaching the course, and was quite reluctant to do so, but found that a 20 hour course load may end up being more detrimental than anything to my GPA as I will be starting my first quarter as the president of the Transfer Student Activities Board, an organization I founded after some heavy criticism I articulated to the university at a staff conference last year regarding the lack of attention put on the transfer student community. I also will be serving as an advisor for the Arabic Language Club as it begins to form itself, if not as its president as well, as I have been asked to do so several times. If so, you can be sure that, contrary to my previous leadership roles, I will be far more of an idea man that delegates duties, as I can not even imagine to run two groups in totality. I also have my role in OUAB, which I hope to push into higher responsibility, so as to aid me in ascertaining an executive position next year, comedy committee chair person or the like. There also is my job as an RA, and any shades of a social life that I remarkably seem to retain after all this, along with school itself, which I have been told is the reason I'm actually here. Long story short, I felt that my class schedule was one too many, and in need of a drop. The remaining classes consisting of Arabic 102, Statistics, and Cultural Conflict.
Being home, needless to say after reading my responsibility repertoire, was a much needed and appreciated break from school. I did not pick up any jobs, as I have done most previous winter breaks. While this resulted in a substantial hit on my wallet when it came time to buy presents, it did have the positive effect of making me not so anxious to get back to school, where I was not expected to put in seemingly endless hours cleaning toilets, scrubbing vent hoods four times over, and other such menial jobs. I was able to enjoy the company of my family, and sleep-in until the hours that postdated the double digits. Christmas was extraordinary, though a little unorthodox from previous years, as my sister was not there for the ritualistic walking of the stairs to take in the site of a beautiful Christmas tree seeming to rest upon a sea of presents. All the while being videotaped by our Father, who, yes, still continued this tradition by taping both me and my brother of a quarter century. While I received many amazing gifts, ranging from obscure and unique clothes, CDs, and movies along with a DVD rack big, and unique, enough to hold them all. But by and large my favorite present has been the USB turntable that I received from my mother and father. I had been told that my Dad found this to be a decidedly bad present, thinking that I would not appreciate its convenience. I have, though not an extensive, a, content-wise, respectable collection of vinyls; whose ratio has only recently shifted toward me, rather than my mother, with respect to ownership. It took a bit of a learning curve to understand the software, as the software meant for beginners was only available for PCs, and the professional software was all I was left with. A few tutorials later, however, and I seem to have the basics down. I've been listening to so many songs that I could previously only do so while at home. The one album that has found itself beneath the needle most often being The Jimi Hendrix Experience's debut album "Are You Experienced?" Another much loved present of this Christmas from my parents.
I have a pretty good feeling about this quarter, even though I've recently had a panic attack about what I want to do with the rest of my life, which then translates into what major I'll be perusing. I've listed a few requirements I'd like any future occupation to fulfill: I'd like lots of money, I don't really want to have to do anything, and I want people to know me. Short of a cult leader, or trophy husbandry I seem to be at a loss for ideas. Rest assured that I'll repost as soon as that is figured out, in the mean time, I'll let you know should anything else of relative importance arise.

You've Never Been More Proud Of Me, I'm Sure Of It

So I finally received a copy of my picture with The Ohio State University's latest featured speaker. A man of honor integrity and respect. A man who devoted his life to the mentally challenged by receiving a Masters Degree in Special Education. I am of course referring to none other than famed porn-star Ron Jeremy, he seriously has an MA in Special Education. Words can not express how truly creepy this man appears in person. Standing at a towering 5' 6", and weighing in at a healthy 275lbs or so, hair, at least what remains of it, slicked back into a maine using only the natural oils graced upon one's head by God himself, one could do little more than stand in a silent awestruck state. After two physical contacts with the man, arm around his shoulder for pictures sake, I ransacked the nearest CVS for every possible prescription of "Crabs-No-More," and "Stop the Burn" that I could find.
The event was a debate on pornography with Mr. Jeremy and Craig Gross, the founder of an anti-pornography church called XXXchurch.com. I really enjoyed the debate, despite its obvious scripted nature. Lines were said in a manner I might liken to those said in a high school musical, or by William Shatner. The question and answer portion I enjoyed much more, as it made things more in the moment, and, while they seemed to lean toward arguments that they had obviously rehearsed on even if it did not directly relate to the question asked, there were decided moments involving new thought processes. Something I did really appreciate was the sense of mutual respect. While on stage the rehearsed arguments seemed to be combative, however to anyone more concerned with the debate as a whole would notice friendly tonalities shining through the fabricated disgust and anger, something which I would later confirm back stage as both the master-debaters, its a posting on porn give me a break, joked with each other and caught fruit in their mouths which they'd throw in the air.
I was a little disappointed that I wasn't able to use any of my cheesy quips, as he was obviously not in the mood for them. During the picture taking, we took one picture which didn't come out, so the camera person said she was taking another, to which Ron replied "This is it, no more." I decided not to even bother with the mountain of gold that I had rehearsed. I really wanted to get a picture with Craig Gross, the youth minister, but he had, while far lower numbers surrounding him, far more faithful to him, time-wise, which would not leave. I did however receive a nice card which I've posted in my room which reads "Stop Floggin' Your Dolphin" on one side and "Don't Spank That Monkey" on the other. Fun night I guess, something different to do.

adrusu alairabiia, lakin la arifu kalima wahhida

That is a rather rough romanized version of a sentence I used in my first arabic mid-term, as it was a dialog in front of the class. I've found writing arabic words in english characters a bit of a challenge, as there are frequent sounds that do not exist in english, and visa-versa. Just ask an arab person to say "pepsi," if they weren't exposed to english before the age of 12 they wont hear the difference between "b", which does exist in arabic, and the "p", which does not. The result will be a slightly humorous "bebsi." I'm assuming you would like to know the meaning of the title: "I study Arabic, but I don't know one word," ah yes, lame bilingual irony.
The past few weeks have been going well for me. My first exams in every class, now that I think about it, received an A-. This is a drastic change from my last few quarters where I was ecstatic to have a D which would then be curved to a B. Hopefully this trend continues, In Shaallah, so that my GPA, which took a hit those last two quarters, has a chance to recuperate.
I still try to hide the cover of my Vampire Studies class while I walk around. Unlike another person in the class, I tend not to, "fly my dork flag rather high." I like to lead people into thinking I'm normal before I spring my eccentric tendencies on them. I do however appreciate the dry, sarcastic humor of my TA, which I fear is lost on largely freshman audience. The class in it's own strange way has rekindled the pride I once had in my Slavic heritage, one that took a back seat to the Sicilian side, which for the first half of my life I had no idea existed. It was only as people made more and more references to the vowel at the end of my name, and how people were decidedly more responsive to talk of an Italian, even though its Sicilian, heritage, that I began to become more attune to it. Once more, my flaunting of Italianism was done so out of a lack of knowledge of where my last name came from, and what that entailed. Going through this class and citing moments of clear cultural recognition, I bear far less hesitation, if any at all, when explaining to people that while my last name and features might point in one direction, I was in all honestly raised quite Slavic. That is, up until our departure from St. Michael's Byzantine Catholic church, and our re-settling at St. Anthony's Italian Catholic church, which I'm sure did not help the cultural identify issues mentioned previously. I think about trying to find my way to a Byzantine Catholic church more and more, however, when I did so two summers ago I had been supremely disappointed in seeing a static state of affairs accompanied by a great void where the slavic nature of the parishioners once shined through, generally in the Slovak spoken during mass, which is no more. All the same, I'd like to try somewhere once more, and it is my understanding that, while not immediately accessible, there is a Byzantine Catholic church in Columbus.
Another nice realization I have encountered through this class is that while Nosferatu may be hard to watch as a silent film, it becomes increasingly more interesting when set to the music of Portishead, a trip hop band that I have yet to clearly define, much like trying to transliterate an arabic word into english I suppose. Imagine acid jazz, with a hint of hip-hop turntableism, and a female lead singer who also happens to be the illegitimate child of a 1970s James Bond theme singer and a witch. I only realized this after I had found myself dozing off to the pipe organs, which I had truly wanted to watch it with, I had previously seen the movie with a new "industrial" soundtrack which sounded more like the standard beats available off Aunt Martha's synthesizer which Caleb seems to revel in dancing to. I slipped out my iPod and began to play the first track, and while the music didn't necessarily fit every mood of the film it certainly made things more interesting, and creepier. If you've listened to portishead in the dark before, you know what I mean.
On another note, I have been given the opportunity to represent OUAB to a large talent agent, as I track down information for Rainn Wilson, "Dwight" from The Office, for a future show on campus. I've done this before with other talent, but this is the first time I've been given the run around, and it has been quite honestly rather exhilarating to work through the bureaucracy to get some real answers. At first, I took it poorly, but when I confronted the issue and received results, it was actually very satisfying. The experience gave me, if nothing else, a feeling that I was in fact working for an organization that commanded respect, a fact that I don't think I understood, or at least recognized, entirely enough, as I had, more or less, began to take my membership in the organization for granted.
Back to to school, I have an appointment with my advisor scheduled for this Friday at 11:30am, so that I might not continue along my way to becoming the most oddly informed undergraduate. Thinking back to the previous few quarters I can remember a barrage of off the wall electives which I'm relatively certain don't all apply to my major: Scuba, Rise and Fall of the USSR, Italian Cinema, Social Dance, The Vampire in Eastern European and American Culture, and probably some others from Kent yet. I explained to this woman that I needed guidance, and as I can remember from my last visit to her, while I may not be happy about the classes I'm taking she makes sure I take them. So with all these things in line I'm beginning to feel studious once more, and have gained a certain pride in my work here at Ohio State.

So I've Been Sufficiently Weirded-Out For The Day

For the past few days I've been a little under the weather, so to speak, something that seems to be going around it seems, as a common place conversation around my building has become, "Guess who's sick." I slept for nearly 12 hours last night in an effort to recharge after a week long round of 4am bed times, due to necessary tasks, or personal ignorance. I awoke feeling much better, and astounded that the strange dream I had during the night was, in fact, real. My friend called me at 4am to ask the name of a band our mutual friend had playing on a video game menu screen. That oddity aside, I nearly skipped my vampire class, that still is weird to say, in favor of more rest, but thought it best to go the day after an exam, which I did rather well on I think, only missing "Hercegovina" after Bosnia, which would be the country's full, and proper name. While in the class, we went through the gambit of evil this, vampire that. It was during the discussion on "limited good" (the idea that there is only so much of a good thing, land, money, love, health etc. Along with a belief that when one gains one of these things someone else has to lose it in equal proportion), and the cultural tendencies that accompany it that I kinda felt out of place in the class, or rather right in place with the discussion. The professor went on talking about the tendencies to hide any nice things one may have, by closing off the inside of the house from others' view (constantly closed curtains), and hiding any nice things from public view (Christmas tree away from windows, my car in the garage), and that one does not show, or speak of, nice possessions to unknown or foreign people (which I can numerously count those instances), because all people potentially want what is good of yours. This, he noted, being a predominant belief outside of the United States but existing in small cultural pockets within it as well. Now I understand that my family is balanced perhaps more on the policing profession of my Father than culture, but it is very interesting to note that these "limited good"-esque tendencies are prevalent in Slovak (Mom) and Southern Italian (Dad) cultures. Many of the things that the professor had mentioned and others seemed amused by, I could directly relate to. I basically had a shit eating grin for the duration of that discussion. After limited good had been discussed, we continued on to the "evil eye," and who has it. By far the most talked about was those "born in a caul," or with the amniotic sac fully or partially intact and covering the face, which in the least it, if not in life, is suspected, that my Grandmother had been. Those being "born in the caul" are likely to have extreme luck, "second sight," and/or special abilities, at least within societies that find it culturally relevant. Once more he spoke of the cultural pockets in America that see this, if nothing else, as something special, and important, (in contrast to what he stated the majority of Americans would think) which I can not lie, I would feel at least different about any child I knew born in such a state, after hearing accounts of my Grandmother's "uniqueness." As weird as I felt with him basically stating that I was not in the majority, I seem to revel in it, as I tend to be someone vastly interested in not being the expected. It was nice for a change I suppose to study something I at least in part know from personal experience, as opposed to trying to imagine.

*on a side note: I would like to apologize to whomever I apparently offended with my last post, regarding having to "dumb things down" as I originally wrote, and my obviously inflated ego, which had been brought to my attention via a rather nasty anonymous post which has since been deleted. I take a great pride in how I write, as I had been told most of my schooling that I was extremely poor at it, and behind the others, due to by still prevalent poor spelling ability. It was extremely frustrating that after I had finally been able to show people that I was in fact intelligent, through my writing, that I would be asked to change my vocabulary again, after I had already done so since the first documentation. Writing had, and still is, what I would call an empowering medium for me, as it gives me the ability to think through my thoughts and express them clearly. I did rewrite the ending to the original post because I did note a decided amount of douche baggery, so I do apologize for that, but I do still find my frustrations crippling, as I literally gave up on one documentation, knowing that I would be asked to change it once more, and passed it off to another RA, giving her any knowledge I had on the matter and allowing her to filter it into acceptable writing. Something which is my problem, as opposed to the residents.

Part Duex (read previous post first, unless you like being confused)

So as promised I would finish explaining what's been going on in a second post, since class time dictated that I had to leave, and considering I seem to get side-tracked a lot, I thought it best to do so now.
This past Sunday my Mom and Dad came to visit. I had told them that I already had a place picked out to go for brunch, Jack & Benny's, a local all breakfast diner, which stays open until three in the afternoon. It was really good, my Dad, a strong Bob Evan's advocated, had even stated on several occasions that he liked this place a lot because 'it taste[d] like home and not a restaurant.' After the quaintness of a cheap brunch stop, we shifted the proverbial gears and had a nice little trek through the more affluent part of Columbus, to which I had never been exposed. We went to Easton Mall, and area which I assume begs to liken itself to Rodeo Drive, with road side store fronts for stores such as Express, Apple, and an extremely expensive gardening store. I couldn't help but to walk around looking at the places and people with the word "toolshed" at the forefront of my mind, completely aware of the irony in my own hypocrisy. It was a neat place I do admit though. In the Gardening store I noticed a set of very unusual, and very expensive orchids, which I coveted to replace my fig tree which was in dire need of a new location with more sunlight, as a good three fourths of its leaves had since fallen off, and the remaining had started to brown. Finding the fifty dollar price tag a bit too daunting, even though it had been offered as a gift from my parents, we proceeded on to Trader Joe's which low and behold, had orchids of the same variety, and more, for thirteen dollars, of which my mother picked up two for my room (one of which is pictured below, along with a present from Steph and Ben's honeymoon in Jamaica). At Joe's I picked up a good deal of mochi as well, which I'm surprised some still remains uneaten.
Later in the evening we made a stop at Bucca di Beppo, a favorite, semi-chain, restaurant of mine specializing in Southern Italian and Sicilian food, served family style, that is, a huge plate of food that everyone grabs something from. As always it was very good, and quite a nice change of pace from campus food. To finish up the trip we swung by the German Village to get some Cinnamon Raisin bread from Ivan's Deli, and to see "The Book Loft" a book store that you quite literally can get lost in, as I was so within a matter of minutes. It looks like a small single house sized book store, that seems to give form to, if I am not mistaken, the house in "House of Leaves" a book which Jeff had been reading quite a time ago which featured a house bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Each room leads to another, and in some cases just dead ended, I received a call from my mother asking my whereabouts to which I replied, "If I knew, I'd tell you." All in all it was a very nice visit.
Later in the week I received a short talk from my boss, although it seems strange to refer to her as that, about the manner in which I write documentations, which are used as information sources for the university when an incident (be it alcohol, rape, drugs, noise violation, EMS call, etc.) occurs, and which is read to offending parties when necessary, mostly in the student misconduct situations. I braced myself, quite fearful that I had missed omitting any dark humor, sarcasm, or the likewise which has come so naturally to me after a lifetime in the Saraceno household. Contrary to my fears, however, I had apparently upset her and others in the university by using too good of grammar, as can be seen by the university officials wanting to know which dorm was 'housing Thoreau as an RA.' The students had voiced their complaints by stating "I can't say I agree with [the write-up], because I don't even know what it says." Something I would attribute more to a problem with the student than me, but alas I must oblige.
As far as I can recall that has been about it for now, so until something else comes up. . .

Scarlet As A Vampire

So I've been back at Ohio State for a little over a month now and have been working at my new job as a Resident Advisor, and everything seems to be going well. My free time seems to escape me as I seem to zone out during it only to find that it's over and I need to get started on something else. Since I've been back I've been trying to re-secure the connections I made last year with the campus figure heads. I surrendered my position in ONE Campaign OSU, as I nearly gave myself a coronary last year with the planning of LiveOSU, the concert to promote The ONE Campaign, which evolved into a rather expensive dud, in favor of a backseat role this year, I now assumed the responsibility of being a liaison with the Columbus area Republican and Democratic Parties in the hopes of attending a local convention and meeting their respective candidates for the 2008 election when they make their way around here, citing the experience itself as good publicity on both ends, as ONE has grown to the point of pop culture status and therefore drags along with it all the easily swayed youth that each party is looking for.
As far as my role with the RA position, I have never experienced so much drama before in my life. It seems that once one situation is resolved another pops up, sometimes without the common courtesy to wait for the aforementioned preceding drama to resolve itself first. By my estimate I've had to document eight situations already, while the vast majority can count theirs on two fingers or less. The job, in and of itself, is not too bad, I enjoy the single room, as in the previous two years at college I have found myself rooming with someone of strong pungency, and not having to pay for it is by in large its greatest advantage. For those of you who don't know, or remember, I've been placed on the "International House" floor, which means about half of my residents are from a foreign country, the two trends in origin tend to be Korea and India. I very much enjoy this opportunity as it rarely presented itself at Falls High. To start off the year about half of my floor went across the street to an enclosed soccer field and played a game of cricket, which was actually really fun. I must admit, I felt exceedingly badass while in the possession of a cricket bat, as compared to a baseball bat, mostly as I reminisced about "Shaun of the Dead" I suppose.
OUAB has began once more, to a decidedly slow start, with at least three comics canceling on us (Steven Colbert, Charlie Murphy, and Kevin Heart), but with any luck it will begin to pick up and I'll be able to further inflate my ego by getting pictures with random celebrities. One of which I find myself in quite the moral quagmire over. On November 4th, a Sunday, I will be working an event with Ron Jeremy. However, I have decided since it is set as a debate on pornography between him and a youth minister, who is apparently a good friend of his, I feel like it's ok, or in the least less bad.
As Ohio State is in fact a school, and not just a place for me to network, and hang out with porn-stars, I suppose it would be of relevance to mention my course load, which would also bring me to the title of the post. I have signed up for three classes, which equates to 15 credit hours, not wanting to overload myself the first quarter as an RA. The first and perhaps hardest of the classes has been "Archaeology in the Near East." The difficulty is not really in the subject matter itself, but more of its presentation, as I consistently find myself looking for shiny things as my ADD kicks in during the two hour lecture, followed by the one hundred pages of reading for the week. My language course, which I've been doing surprisingly well in is Arabic 101.01, what the ".01" is for, I have no idea. What is rather interesting to me is that by now in most of the other language courses people have begun to conjugate and create sentence structure and we have yet to finish the alphabet. But all in all I like it. I also find that if you say you are taking any romance language people tend to say, "Oh, okay" with an almost expectatory tone, where as when one mentions they are taking arabic, a certain degree of respect is immediately commanded. I just think it's funny because my "cultural ambiguity," as one friend so eloquently put it, then prompts further questioning as to my personal ethnic background. This has proven true enough to the point that I have convinced a number of people quiet easily that my name was Muhammad, which I then proceeded to correct, after a personal chuckle of sorts. Finally my third course is probably the most infamous of the three, and one which I must get to rather soon truthfully, "The Vampire in Eastern European and American Culture." It was just last night, as I dictated one of the various forms the vampire can take in slavic folklore, that I stated, "I can't believe I'm getting credit for this." I decided to take the class after rifling through different departmental classes for something interesting last year. I came upon Slavic Studies and decided that since I was in truth raised more Slovak than anything else that I should check out some of the available course work. I remember watching, on at least one occasion, a vampire movie with my slavic grandma, during and after which she told related stories of which she had personally experienced, and heard. I remember noting her decided perk in enthusiasm on the subject, and thought that I might get a better sense of her if I were to take such a class. The Scarlet in the title is a reference to OSU's colors, scarlet and grey, but as it is a glorified term for red it is also the color of choice for vampire skin tone in slavic folklore, which is rather counterintuitive to my personal ideas after seeing the pale fanged corpse version in films, also to my disappointment they never had fangs either. I was about to continue on about vampires, but as time would dictate, I need to go to that class, and I really don't need to teach it to you.
I do have more to say but I suppose that will have to wait for another post: here's a little teaser though. . .
Mom and Dad came to visit and my fig tree has about kicked it.