Ah, the moment of truth. I've never been much of a liar or a bullshitter. If I didn't do something, I'll admit to it. If I'm not going to finish something in time, I'll keep doing it at the same slow, carefully thought-out pace until I run out of time. A bullshitter, I am not.
I would deserve a D, and apparently the highest grade I'm going to get is a D, so at least I'm honest with myself. I deserve a D because I am a procrastinator and if I know there is time left to complete an assignment, I will utilize it. This isn't an excuse, it's just the truth.
I can accept responsibility and take a C home. That may mean repeating this course again, depending on the new guidelines being thrown about, but I actually liked the class, so that wouldn't be so bad. I don't know who'll be teaching it though or how they'll tackle the course, so that's a little scary. But I have no choice. I'm holding myself accountable.
I would like to clarify, however, that I am not lazy. I used to think I was, but I always start out the first month strong. I keep my agenda filled out and detailed, and I actually take the time to do my homework on time. I always strive to earn my B. I told myself this semester that I would write one blog every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Four blogs a week, as required by this course and Online Journalism. I did that for two weeks. I held my own. But then I became aware of the deadline and realized I had time now that I could use, and I would have time later to finish everything else. Obviously that was a flawed idea.
I am not lazy. I just put things on hold. I put other classes before this. And that was a regrettable choice, as it is for some course every semester. This isn't an appeal to you, Professor Carr. This isn't an apology. I deserve that A. I deserve that A for my hit-or-miss blog and my forced wit and my love of all things popular and all things weird.
I am accountable for my A. Or D. Or C. You're deciding. But I still have HOPE, so...you know. Stick it to Southern and pass me.
As always with LOST, I begin the episode wondering how my mind will be fucked today. There was a break between this week's episode and last week's, so I knew something major was going to happen. The last episode left our Losties in such peril that, following the nature of the show, something even worse was bound to happen. I'll admit that I was frightened.
The episode began in the alternative reality, which still felt like an entirely independent show worthy of its own forty-four minutes. If only. Jack attempted to pressure Locke into being what I presume to be a guinea pig; he was certain that a new procedure could give Locke back the use of his legs. Locke wasn't having it. Jack, being the overbearing maniac that he is, goes to Locke's dentist to get information on how Locke came to be in a wheelchair. Inquiring minds also wanted to know. Luckily, Bernard Nadler just happened to be Locke's dentist. What are the chances? They both realize that they were on the same plane together, as was Locke. This is reason enough for Bernard to break protocol and give Jack the name of a man who should know what happened to Locke - Anthony Cooper.
Anthony Cooper is Locke's father. In the original reality, he shoved Locke through a high-rise window and watched him fall to his presumed death. He survived, but he was paralyzed. In this reality, Locke tells Jack that he survived a plane crash, which put him in a wheelchair and put his father in a state of nonbeing. As always, Terry O'Quinn and Matthew Fox played incredibly well off of one another. This duo always seems like they know an Emmy is on the line when the camera starts rolling.
The original storyline was awesomely fast-paced. The captured Losties were thrown into the Hydra polar bear cages that first appeared in season three. Across the island, Locke and Sayid saved Jack from Widmore's attack and brought him to Hydra Island so that he would convince his fellow castaways to leave the island. Jack refused to leave the island and only agreed to help Locke after he gave Jack this chilly query: If he wanted them all dead, he would have killed them already, so why is he helping them?
This could be seen as noble, but this is LOST, and this man isn't John Locke. He's...the smoke monster. He doesn't even have a name. He places four bricks of C4 in a bookbag and gives it to Jack after the Losties are all reunited. It is unknown whether Locke was going to actually board the submarine with the survivors because, before he could even garner a superior response, Jack shoved him off the pier and into the ocean. A shootout breaks out. Kate is shot in the chest. Everyone heads for the sub and Sawyer closes the door, once again leaving Claire behind. It's a far cry from the end of the fourth season, when he rescued her from a smoldering house. The sub dives. It isn't until our Losties are well enough under the sea that Jack opens up his bookbag and finds the ticking bomb, counting down slowly.
Sayid tells them how to disarm the bomb but before he can rally off the risks, Sawyer performs the task and the countdown speeds up, surprisingly. Sawyer looks stupid at this point.
And then everyone about this episode went from awesome and amazing to utterly depressing. Sayid tells Jack where to find Desmond and tells him that he is the candidate, and in a span of perhaps five seconds he is gone, taking the bomb as far away as he can. It detonates in the center of the sub, killing Sayid instantly. Frank is hit by a door and left for dead. Water begins to blast in. Hurley takes an unconscious Kate and exits the sub. Jack and Sawyer attempt to help Jin free Sun but she is trapped. Sawyer bumps his head, knocks himself out, and Jack is left to take him to the ocean surface, demanded to so by Jin. If I could cry, I imagine I would be in tears now. Alas, I cannot. Sun begs Jin to leave her behind, but he promises to never leave her again, and the two drown holding hands.
THEY JUST FOUND EACH OTHER AGAIN! How ridiculous.
The remaining Losties (Jack, Kate, Sawyer, Hurley) all make it back to the beach, and when Jack breaks the news that Jin and Sun are gone, they all let their emotions seep. Sad day. The episode ends as Locke senses thatt he sub sank and that everyone isn't dead. He leaves Claire on the dock.
NEXT WEEK: Epic, timeless, awesome episode that I shouldn't know anything about but I do and I can't wait. Allison Janney. Jacob. Man In Black. For one hour.
I have this idea that, if I uphold my end of the moral bargain, eventually those that I interact with will return the favor. If I treat others nicely all the time, eventually they will be compelled to be nice to me and to others. I have this annoying fear of being disliked, so I’m always consciously making sure that doesn’t happen. I like the satisfaction of being seen as a nice guy, in my personal “now” and I would like to be seen that way in my professional future as well. More importantly, though, my parents instilled in me the idea that being moral and ethical is not only pleasing for society, but that it is simply the right way to be.
I notice that I can completely fabricate a story on impulse. I told someone that my dad used to force me to pee in public restrooms when I was younger because I’m slightly pee-shy, which is a half-truth. He does get annoyed when I say I have to go to the restroom and I don’t follow through, but he’s never forced me to pee. It seems like he would if he could, but he hasn’t. I also told a friend that her hair looked just fine when she put it into pigtails. I waited twenty minutes to tell her that she looked ridiculous.
I have a habit of slightly embellishing stories to make them funnier. I like to be liked and I don’t mind embellishing to do so. I don’t think it makes me any less truthful. I also don’t mind lying to my friends about their hair or clothing or general appearance if it will avoid an awkward conversation or spare their feelings. I tell everyone that I will lie to their faces though, so I feel that they can sense when I’m trying to nice. Again, I don’t think it makes me any less truthful.
I do tell the truth when I think it counts. I won’t tell someone what they want to hear if it means putting down someone else. If my friend is mad at her boyfriend for something and the situation is actually her fault, I will tell her so. She would want me to simply agree with her, but I can’t do things like that. I feel that when you defend someone when you don’t have to, it’s good karma. And it’s simply the right thing to do.
If that didn't seem coherent, that's because it was one fluid thought. And those never sound right.
Art. According to Dictionary.com, art is the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance. What is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance to me?
Coldplay's sophomore album A Rush Of Blood To The Head was released in 2002 to critical acclaim, winning three Grammy Awards, a Q Award, and a BRIT Award. It is ranked as the 473th greatest album of all time by Rolling Stone, and as the 65th most definitive album of all time by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
None of this mattered to me. Before 2008, I thought of Coldplay as a depressing emoband. That's what I was always told, anyway; Their only accomplishment was that complex piano song they had a few years prior, but that was all they really did. When I was a freshman in college, in 2008, I downloaded a huge file of music; it was easily accessible and I didn't want to risk not finding it all later. In that huge file, buried deep were three albums that I loaded into iTunes and completely disregarded: Parachutes, A Rush Of Blood To The Head, and X&Y. All Coldplay LP's. A few months later, a song called Daylight came onto my shuffle; the warbling guitar riff peaked my interest but the quirky bass line sold me instantly. I haven't questioned their artistry since.
A Rush opens with a swell of ambiance, followed by a pounding repetition of drums delivered by drummer Will Champion. The majority of albums begin with a song that should prepare the rest of the album, and in that vein, Politik prepared me for greatness. The slow-down of the bridge followed by the blast of energetic sound makes for an epic opener. The album slows down with the first single In My Place, a mid-tempo plea for a lover. The simple guitar melody carries the song amidst strings and cymbals. God Put A Smile Upon Your Face follows with a catchy guitar melody and a pulsating chorus that leaves you so high that that the next track, the easily-recognizable The Scientist, seems to be pulsating as well. The Scientist is depressingly beautiful, a track that I would have anticipated from Coldplay before I knew of them. Singer Chris Martin's vocals are often praised for this ballad. The next track is the track of the album. This track, along with 2008's Viva la Vida, is one of the band's signature songs.
The epic, awesome, award-winning Clocks pretty much floats through you. I don't think there is a way to listen to this song and not smile or tap your feet or hum a little. There honestly isn't a proper way to capture its "-ness" in words, in my opinion. The strings and keys are just...full of "-ness." This is a song that must be sung to the rafters. The aforementioned Daylight follows Clocks with the same sense of urgency. Daylight features a warbling electric guitar by guitarist Jonny Buckland that carries on throughout the song. Bassist Guy Berryman plays a diddly, almost sensual bass part throughout the song that is highlighted during the bridge. The following song, Green Eyes, is a nice guitar piece that slows the album down for a few minutes. I personally skip this song once I stop replaying Daylight in my head. The following song is one that Martin himself has said he wishes the band never recorded.
Warning Sign is my favorite Coldplay record, perhaps because it isn't an obvious tune of theirs. Perhaps that is why the band seldom plays the song live? Warning Sign is a pop/rock song at best, with the basic arsenal of drums, guitars, a piano, and introspective lyrics. It doesn't ask for too much deciphering and it doesn't have a dazzling piano melody or a synthy bass line. It's just a song. But it's basic pop/rock done by Coldplay; it has this quality of being so much more than a filler track. The up-down guitar that plays right after the chorus is so alternative and Martin's droning vocals push the song out of the mainstream and into the world of sappy-indie-kill-me music that just makes me smile. I wish Martin and the band would think twice about the value of this song. They recorded it for a reason.
A Whisper picks the album back up to a pounding number that eases from gentle edgy guitars to a resonating chorus with piano and drums. I find it forgettable like Green Eyes, but it doesn't disappoint. The final two close the album out with themes of sadness, regret, and foreboding. The album is named after track ten, A Rush Of Blood To The Head, which could be described as a tale of blind faith. The track never surpasses its soft level of assurance that what is being said isn't necessarily right. The chorus raises the volume to the point of acknowledgment, but not past that to pressuring the listener. Amsterdam, the final track, seems to be about a love that has ended on one side, and that one side is pushing the other to move on. The first two verses and chorus are strictly accompanied by Martin and the piano. The last verse builds up with the addition of the band and concludes again with the piano. The album ends with Martin's seldom-valued lower register.
If anything in the world is art, A Rush Of Blood To The Head certainly is. To me, music is the best kind of art. It can leap so many bounds to reach people. Coldplay and A Rush Of Blood To The Head shattered my perception of what is good music and has forced me to start anew, and I couldn't be happier to do so.
What television show/website/musical performer best reflects American culture?
Initially, I was going to discuss how Bob Dylan has shaped American culture. There were too many television shows to choose from (and too many that I wouldn't bother to watch, no matter how culturally relevant they are), far too many films to choose from, and far too many artists to choose from. Everything that came from this country is essentially reflective of the culture at some point or another. The band Nirvana set out to make music, and in popularizing a genre, also created a fashion craze with plaid and torn jeans. Britney Spears made people feel comfortable enough to bare their stomachs. Bob Dylan not only inspired so many singer-songwriters, but he was socially aware and strove to make changes, two aspects of his fame that have been widespread. I thought him to be the perfect candidate.That was, however, until I saw this:
Christina Aguilera has an amazing voice. She is a great talent. I'm not particularly a fan; I leaned more towards Britney myself. But there is no denying her talent.That's not what I'm going to discuss, though. Let's discuss, instead, how insanely desperate and reused this entire video seems to be.
Aguilera has said numerous times that she is a sexual person and that she doesn't shy away from expressing her sexuality. Cool beans. That would explain her raunchy 2002 video for single "Dirrty." If anything, that video defined Aguilera as the risktaker among her pop star colleagues. But while she is all about the sex, she also has integrity and talent. It makes one wonder why the hell she would make a video that is so quick and bright and glaringly a rehash of several other videos. The white backdrop that the video uses is oddly reminiscent of Lady Gaga's recent epic video for "Bad Romance." As is the fire and the hair and the red lingerie and the sunglasses. Several scenes from Aquilera's video seem to be pulled straight from Madonna's 1989 video for "Express Yourself." Considering that I was born in 1989, I didn't catch the older inspirations, but the more recent ones stuck out like sore thumbs. It was almost comical, considering how Aguilera has publicly denounced the comparisons between her and Lady Gaga.
In addition to the video feeling like a mashup of so many sexually-charged ones before it, it just seemed SO sexually-charged. The making out on the bed was uncomfortable. The product placement was awkward. The ball-and-gag number was, albeit pretty cool, so very forced. Everything about this video seemed forced. Frame 1 was "Look, it's me,"; frame 2 was "Look, it's me again, but sexier"; frame 3 was "Wow, can you believe how incredibly sexual I am?" So many controversial scenes were forced into three minutes and nine seconds and it showed.
At times, America baffles me. This country often boasts about its reputation as the "land of the free," but it also rationalizes its blatant discrimination with the idea that the nation has a one-dimensional morality.
Less than sixty years ago, there was a legitimate law called the Racial Integrity Act that, among so much more, outlawed interracial marriage. Could you imagine living in a time when you couldn't marry someone if you were white and they were any other race? Could you imagine that being the norm? Could you imagine not being able to go to school with your best friend because you were white and they were any other race?
Today, to a hopeful majority of people, that kind of discrimination would be blasphemous. Yet, it is still happening. What once used to plague American people who weren't white is now plaguing American people who aren't straight. Non-heterosexuals (which encompasses homosexuals, bisexuals, transsexuals, transgendered) are not equal citizens in this country. There are several classifications that can chock you down in terms of equal rights in this country - you can murder someone. Murderers aren't allowed to just roam the streets once they have been deemed guilty; even after they serve their time, they aren't allowed full freedom. People who break the law are not given their access to the endless possibilities that life has to offer. But they have done something to be less than an average citizen. They have literally done something. What has a bisexual done, other than come to terms with themselves and their sexuality? What has a homosexual done? What have these groups of people done to be denied the same rights as every other law-abiding citizen of the country?
This round of questions obviously applies to the military. It's the freaking military. It's voluntary. If someone wakes up one day and decides they want to serve and protect the country, they shouldn't have to think twice whether or not their sexuality will be an issue. Blacks weren't allowed to serve in the military not insanely long ago. The rationale was that the white soldiers might not all be comfortable serving with people of color. It might be a distraction during battle. Lyndon B. Johnson bravely put an end to that bullshit with the Civil Rights Act of 1964, against heavy resistance from the south. But he did it. And it stuck. Today the rationale for non-heterosexuals soldiers to serve in the closet is that...the heterosexual soldiers might be uncomfortable serving with gay men. It might be a distraction during battle. Men and women serving the country shouldn't have to hide a portion of their identity, especially a portion that isn't harmful or offensive to anyone.
Slavery and racism are black notes on America's lengthy report card. When will the nation look at the past and realize that Don't Ask, Don't Tell and civil unions are black notes as well? Separate but equal is a heinous way to live.
I would deserve a D, and apparently the highest grade I'm going to get is a D, so at least I'm honest with myself. I deserve a D because I am a procrastinator and if I know there is time left to complete an assignment, I will utilize it. This isn't an excuse, it's just the truth.
