This past weekend, I spent my Friday night taking what I would call a skate down memory lane. Though I know I have been to this place before (or so my mother says), I do not have any recollection of it.
Skateland. Oh, what a place! As soon as I walked through the front doors I was whisked away to simpler times by the atmosphere of decades past. The lobby smelled like smelly feet and mildew unsuccessfully masked by the aroma of Applejack potpourri spray. The carpet had a regurgitation of geometric shapes reminiscent of bygone days. A few of the ceiling tiles had water damage which seemed like age spots on a once youthful face. To top it off, they still accept checks but not debit or credit cards.
Accompanied by Angie, one of my sweetest and most enjoyable friends, we opened the large red doors after paying by check and entered a portal to the past. It was like I was four again or an adult version of myself in an earlier generation. I felt like I could have been on an episode of “Saved by the Bell.” The only thing missing was a human look-a-like of a Ken doll and Screech.
We grabbed our skates and headed toward a bench to tie up the laces of our beige roller skates with pride. I originally had more confidence in my skating skills since I know how to shave the ice with hockey skates, but reality hit me as soon as I tried walking towards the roller rink. I felt like a toddler on wheels, a dangerous combination.
While surveying the area after I was somewhat stable on my skates, I noticed the rink had a large population of little boys and girls supervised by their loving parents and two roller refs. There was also a surprising array of high school boys passing us on their roller blades. However, our main concern dealt with the lonely men of the FM area who have nothing to do on Friday nights but to roller skate by themselves with the hope of impressing fast (on roller skates, that is) women.
One man in particular was obviously a regular. His ponytail, which exceeded my own by a foot, was tied back like any responsible sportsman to ensure visibility on the fast track. He towered over us as he asked me whether or not I was going to join the limbo contest, which I would have if wheels weren’t involved and if the competition would have been taller than four feet. After trying to strike up a few more conversations with us, he whizzed by backwards as he gave me helpful tidbits of advice that I never followed. He displayed his skating skills like it was a male mating call. This forced us to put our ignoring abilities on high.
After 45 more minutes of Angie and me trying to zone him out while we became accustomed to roller skating and avoiding the collapsing kids surrounding our every move, we noticed a little drama on the opposite side. Our skating stalker was keeled over and a large mass of nine-year-old girls and two adults were trying to aid him in his time of need. The word on the rink was that he had to jump over a fallen child which forced him to land in a painful and precarious manner. He had to sit on the sidelines after that scrape. That daring deed escalated his coolometer to hero level in the eyes of all Skateland kiddies. “To skate and protect” is surely a motto to stand by.
Though I do not wish sprained ankles (or whatever happened to him) upon anyone, it was especially enjoyable being there after that occurrence without the obtrusive advice from that pony-tailed predator.
Published April 21, 2011 in MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Indecent Exposure
NOTE: This was for The Advocate's SPOOF Edition...
We’ve all seen it; skirts barely able to cover your derriere and tops that hardly hide your bosom. Fashion no longer has reason to exist because mere scraps of clothe used to cover the most private of areas cannot be considered clothing in any universe. The need for such nicknames as whale-tails and muffin-tops are a sure sign of how polluted our brains have become due to the necessity of having to name such occurrences.
Men sporting v-necks are showing off their chest hair, or lack-of. Their pants are practically on the ground highlighting whether each man prefers boxers or briefs, maybe as a sort of personality profile on what they particularly like. Some even dare to sport penny loafers with bundled up skinny jeans which highlight their bony ankles and calves.
Indecent exposure is a daily occurrence and can be seen on every corner of this campus, which is why we are in dire need of a dress-code.
Imagine how glorious it would be if we never had to worry about seeing these detestable sights. With the way things currently are, one can barely walk out their front door without witnessing immodesty. However, if there was a dress-code enforced by the Public Safety officers, professors and the like, everything would be fixed. Our eyes would once again be untainted.
I propose a few suggestions. From Nov. 1 through April 1, all students and faculty would be required to wear loosely fitted turtlenecks and wide-legged pants that go up past your bellybutton. Close-toed shoes (preferably black or brown with slip-grip) with a heel not exceeding one inch and knee-length socks would also be required to ensure complete coverage.
Makeup is a matter that needs no discussion. It shouldn’t even exist. Everyone should be seen as who they really are without bells or whistles. This will promote confidence in young women which will be seen on grade reports and first dates.
Things such as makeup give women an excuse to hide behind a mask, which in turn makes them vainer and more self-conscious at the very same time. Makeup requires women to check their grease levels much too frequently in little handheld mirrors. Makeup also enables men to be even shallower than they already are and base opinions of women on only face value. Plain Jane should be the name of the game.
Hair should also be changed for the better. No strands should be untidy, no pieces blowing in the breeze as if you are modeling for Tresemme.
The closer we look like each other the easier and more manageable life will become. Many think this would stifle individuality, but on the contrary; it would highlight each other’s differences because our true selves would not be hidden underneath distracting makeup and fashion. Cover yourselves from top to bottom with a cascade of confidence by not adhering to foul fashion!
Published April 14, 2011 in MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate - Spoof Edition.
We’ve all seen it; skirts barely able to cover your derriere and tops that hardly hide your bosom. Fashion no longer has reason to exist because mere scraps of clothe used to cover the most private of areas cannot be considered clothing in any universe. The need for such nicknames as whale-tails and muffin-tops are a sure sign of how polluted our brains have become due to the necessity of having to name such occurrences.
Men sporting v-necks are showing off their chest hair, or lack-of. Their pants are practically on the ground highlighting whether each man prefers boxers or briefs, maybe as a sort of personality profile on what they particularly like. Some even dare to sport penny loafers with bundled up skinny jeans which highlight their bony ankles and calves.
Indecent exposure is a daily occurrence and can be seen on every corner of this campus, which is why we are in dire need of a dress-code.
Imagine how glorious it would be if we never had to worry about seeing these detestable sights. With the way things currently are, one can barely walk out their front door without witnessing immodesty. However, if there was a dress-code enforced by the Public Safety officers, professors and the like, everything would be fixed. Our eyes would once again be untainted.
I propose a few suggestions. From Nov. 1 through April 1, all students and faculty would be required to wear loosely fitted turtlenecks and wide-legged pants that go up past your bellybutton. Close-toed shoes (preferably black or brown with slip-grip) with a heel not exceeding one inch and knee-length socks would also be required to ensure complete coverage.
Makeup is a matter that needs no discussion. It shouldn’t even exist. Everyone should be seen as who they really are without bells or whistles. This will promote confidence in young women which will be seen on grade reports and first dates.
Things such as makeup give women an excuse to hide behind a mask, which in turn makes them vainer and more self-conscious at the very same time. Makeup requires women to check their grease levels much too frequently in little handheld mirrors. Makeup also enables men to be even shallower than they already are and base opinions of women on only face value. Plain Jane should be the name of the game.
Hair should also be changed for the better. No strands should be untidy, no pieces blowing in the breeze as if you are modeling for Tresemme.
The closer we look like each other the easier and more manageable life will become. Many think this would stifle individuality, but on the contrary; it would highlight each other’s differences because our true selves would not be hidden underneath distracting makeup and fashion. Cover yourselves from top to bottom with a cascade of confidence by not adhering to foul fashion!
Published April 14, 2011 in MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate - Spoof Edition.
It's Always a Good Time to Care
With roughly 21 full school days left to complete before our joyful hearts depart from school for the summer, parents should start thinking about what their darling children (ages 18 and up) need in their care packages before finals.
I saw my mother today and she brought me thoughtful and useful goods. Resting in this grocery bag of love was special tea for soothing sore throats (such as mine), shake mix, a few freshly washed items of clothing, a devotional and homemade gingersnaps. She gave me a care package and it’s not even close to finals yet. My heart was warmed.
If your parents are too busy to put together sweet necessities or just don’t want to, they can venture the internet in search of provisional gifts. Many sites are devoted to aiding the poor – the poor college students in people’s lives, of course. Sites such as hipkits.com, boxobo.com, from-mom.com among others are devoted to comforting the collegiate.
After visiting one of these sites, I entered a previously unknown dimension of pre-packaged kindness. If your ma is too busy to make one for you herself, all she has to do is spend hours deciding which package best fits your needs. “Would he prefer the Passover or Get Well kit? No. Maybe I should get him the April Fool’s package. Ugh. I don’t know!”
For exam time, there’s a kit called the Exam Cram which claims to include “Tools, treats, and tips for the final crunch.” It consists of copious amounts of “caffeine, sugar, vitamin C, quick healthy snacks, cool stress relief toys, inspirational messages, plus some practical supplies.” In the picture, a slinky was shown. That toy alone is worth the $39.97 (plus tax). With any luck, a sticker saying, “You rock!” “You go girl!” or “Hey, smarty pants!” would be included as well. Maybe the inspirational messages would say heart-warming phrases like, “You can do it!” or, “You better do it.”
Instead of doing homework, a new form of procrastination is also available: cleaning. If you aren’t exactly a clean freak, your parents could send you a kit devoted to inspiring cleanliness. If you already are a clean freak, this array of cleaning goods would make you the happiest kid on the block. Since I already revert to cleaning as a form of escapism, I would enjoy this kit greatly.
At first glance, I was a little disturbed by the “Sealed with a Kiss” care package. With items such as a Passion Journal, a Love Duckie and hot chocolate titled “Cocoa Amore” I started getting a little uncomfortable. It was then that I read the fine print advising to send this package to boyfriends/girlfriends, husbands/wives and the like. Good, because I’d get a little nervous if someone’s parents were buying them books on “The Art of Kissing,” as is included in this passionate package.
The Wall Street Journal named Hip Kits as the best care package producer because of the overall quality and price, so spread the news to your elders if you desire kindness in a box.
Personally, I would find any of these boxes intriguing and sweet, but I prefer the sweet thoughtfulness my mother thinks of herself. My mom made those gingersnaps for me. She knows I suffer from sore throats almost daily. She knows I love nutrition shakes.
She also knows I don’t have finals right now, but she cares so much she brought these items to me anyway. That’s what I call a care package.
Published March 31, 2011 for MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate.
I saw my mother today and she brought me thoughtful and useful goods. Resting in this grocery bag of love was special tea for soothing sore throats (such as mine), shake mix, a few freshly washed items of clothing, a devotional and homemade gingersnaps. She gave me a care package and it’s not even close to finals yet. My heart was warmed.
If your parents are too busy to put together sweet necessities or just don’t want to, they can venture the internet in search of provisional gifts. Many sites are devoted to aiding the poor – the poor college students in people’s lives, of course. Sites such as hipkits.com, boxobo.com, from-mom.com among others are devoted to comforting the collegiate.
After visiting one of these sites, I entered a previously unknown dimension of pre-packaged kindness. If your ma is too busy to make one for you herself, all she has to do is spend hours deciding which package best fits your needs. “Would he prefer the Passover or Get Well kit? No. Maybe I should get him the April Fool’s package. Ugh. I don’t know!”
For exam time, there’s a kit called the Exam Cram which claims to include “Tools, treats, and tips for the final crunch.” It consists of copious amounts of “caffeine, sugar, vitamin C, quick healthy snacks, cool stress relief toys, inspirational messages, plus some practical supplies.” In the picture, a slinky was shown. That toy alone is worth the $39.97 (plus tax). With any luck, a sticker saying, “You rock!” “You go girl!” or “Hey, smarty pants!” would be included as well. Maybe the inspirational messages would say heart-warming phrases like, “You can do it!” or, “You better do it.”
Instead of doing homework, a new form of procrastination is also available: cleaning. If you aren’t exactly a clean freak, your parents could send you a kit devoted to inspiring cleanliness. If you already are a clean freak, this array of cleaning goods would make you the happiest kid on the block. Since I already revert to cleaning as a form of escapism, I would enjoy this kit greatly.
At first glance, I was a little disturbed by the “Sealed with a Kiss” care package. With items such as a Passion Journal, a Love Duckie and hot chocolate titled “Cocoa Amore” I started getting a little uncomfortable. It was then that I read the fine print advising to send this package to boyfriends/girlfriends, husbands/wives and the like. Good, because I’d get a little nervous if someone’s parents were buying them books on “The Art of Kissing,” as is included in this passionate package.
The Wall Street Journal named Hip Kits as the best care package producer because of the overall quality and price, so spread the news to your elders if you desire kindness in a box.
Personally, I would find any of these boxes intriguing and sweet, but I prefer the sweet thoughtfulness my mother thinks of herself. My mom made those gingersnaps for me. She knows I suffer from sore throats almost daily. She knows I love nutrition shakes.
She also knows I don’t have finals right now, but she cares so much she brought these items to me anyway. That’s what I call a care package.
Published March 31, 2011 for MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate.
An Ambassador of Conversation
Thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, my international communications have flourished over the past five years.
It was the year 2006. Many of my older friends had graduated and I was left in the dusty hallways of our high school to fend for my lonely, 16-year-old self. Missing them terribly, I started my own Facebook account to stay in touch with my older comrades. Back then, Facebook was pretty much a college kid thing to do. I was a bit leery at first to sail in such uncharted territory reserved for more mature participants, but I threw my qualms aside and joined this social network so I could “stay connected” with my beloved friends. I was the second child in my high school to create an account.
After joining this virtual world of status updates and friendly profile-stalking, I soon found a new calling: creating groups. I made various groups that year, two of them for outcasts of society (Strawberry Blondes), one titled “Pizzaholics Anonymous (PA),” and a group dedicated to Zorro which reached over 1,200 members at one point. I also joined random groups like, “Stuffed Animals are Your Friends,” “I Still Can’t Find Waldo” and “I’m a Fermata… Hold Me.”
That was where it all began. That was when my long list of virtual friends started to accumulate. In my overly sociable and curious state of teenhood, I managed to befriend people from Germany, Brazil, Italy, Turkey and other countries.
Many are aware of my menagerie of, as one of my friends titled them, “e-friends.” Joseph was the first internet friend I made. I added the Canadian tennis player after he joined my Zorro group and caught my eye with his witty remarks he had posted on the group’s wall. He then invited me to his “I don’t know you, but I really like pancakes” group. We’ve been virtual friends ever since. In fact, we Skyped for the first time last week. After being Facebook pals for five years that webcam-to-webcam chat was long overdue.
Later that very same year my gregarious cyber self was introduced to a German man named Sascha. He was mutual friends with an exchange student I had known. Since I thought he was cute I asked him to be my newest friend. Our light flirting over MSN messenger spanned across four years of broken-up English and the level two German I took in high school. I like to think that his modeling career took off because of my unwavering encouragement.
Cem and I started our friendship in a different manner. I actually met him in person, and I even met him before we added each other on Facebook. While I was playing the piano at a resort on Pelican Lake, this handsome Turk walked into the room to hear me play “Clair de Lune.” Conversation soon took flight. After spending one afternoon and evening talking to the man, I’ve never seen him again. Thankfully, the World Wide Web has helped us stay in touch. He is now engaged to a beautiful woman and is serving his required 6-month term in the military. A 2012 wedding is planned. I better receive an invitation.
Social networking sites have allowed people to make friends they will never have to face in person. I have only grazed the surface of my collection of e-friends I’ve acquired over the years. However, these “friends” will never be able to meet me for a chat over a cup of coffee. Instead, I’ll be eating a taco and doing homework while we chat by way of keyboard with minutes of time lapses in-between each sentence. Oh, the thrill of it all!
Being a sort of ambassador of conversation with unknown people can be rather fun, but it has grown stale in recent years. I suppose I’ve already grown out of that phase of my life, for now anyway.
Published March 10, 2011 in MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate.
It was the year 2006. Many of my older friends had graduated and I was left in the dusty hallways of our high school to fend for my lonely, 16-year-old self. Missing them terribly, I started my own Facebook account to stay in touch with my older comrades. Back then, Facebook was pretty much a college kid thing to do. I was a bit leery at first to sail in such uncharted territory reserved for more mature participants, but I threw my qualms aside and joined this social network so I could “stay connected” with my beloved friends. I was the second child in my high school to create an account.
After joining this virtual world of status updates and friendly profile-stalking, I soon found a new calling: creating groups. I made various groups that year, two of them for outcasts of society (Strawberry Blondes), one titled “Pizzaholics Anonymous (PA),” and a group dedicated to Zorro which reached over 1,200 members at one point. I also joined random groups like, “Stuffed Animals are Your Friends,” “I Still Can’t Find Waldo” and “I’m a Fermata… Hold Me.”
That was where it all began. That was when my long list of virtual friends started to accumulate. In my overly sociable and curious state of teenhood, I managed to befriend people from Germany, Brazil, Italy, Turkey and other countries.
Many are aware of my menagerie of, as one of my friends titled them, “e-friends.” Joseph was the first internet friend I made. I added the Canadian tennis player after he joined my Zorro group and caught my eye with his witty remarks he had posted on the group’s wall. He then invited me to his “I don’t know you, but I really like pancakes” group. We’ve been virtual friends ever since. In fact, we Skyped for the first time last week. After being Facebook pals for five years that webcam-to-webcam chat was long overdue.
Later that very same year my gregarious cyber self was introduced to a German man named Sascha. He was mutual friends with an exchange student I had known. Since I thought he was cute I asked him to be my newest friend. Our light flirting over MSN messenger spanned across four years of broken-up English and the level two German I took in high school. I like to think that his modeling career took off because of my unwavering encouragement.
Cem and I started our friendship in a different manner. I actually met him in person, and I even met him before we added each other on Facebook. While I was playing the piano at a resort on Pelican Lake, this handsome Turk walked into the room to hear me play “Clair de Lune.” Conversation soon took flight. After spending one afternoon and evening talking to the man, I’ve never seen him again. Thankfully, the World Wide Web has helped us stay in touch. He is now engaged to a beautiful woman and is serving his required 6-month term in the military. A 2012 wedding is planned. I better receive an invitation.
Social networking sites have allowed people to make friends they will never have to face in person. I have only grazed the surface of my collection of e-friends I’ve acquired over the years. However, these “friends” will never be able to meet me for a chat over a cup of coffee. Instead, I’ll be eating a taco and doing homework while we chat by way of keyboard with minutes of time lapses in-between each sentence. Oh, the thrill of it all!
Being a sort of ambassador of conversation with unknown people can be rather fun, but it has grown stale in recent years. I suppose I’ve already grown out of that phase of my life, for now anyway.
Published March 10, 2011 in MSUM's campus newspaper, The Advocate.
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