Rap lyrics: Usually very simple. The same lines are used again and again, the words are rhythmic, contagious, and very mymicable. But most lyrics to rap songs (rap songs played on Top-40 radio stations) are also not very "clean". By clean I mean kid friendly, and by kid friendly I mean adult friendly... so I guess the age that they are appropriate for is anyone between the ages of I'm-rebellious-and-listen-to-what-I-want, and, I've-been-de-sensatized-to-anything-wholesome.
Five-plus years ago I had the TV on. I was watching a concert by the then-hot (maybe...) group Destiny's Child. The shaky camera found the group outside back beside the concert stage, standing in a large group. All held hands in this tightly knit circle of prayer. "We want to thank the Lord for his blessings of our lives... ect, ect, ect." Show time! The trio bound on stage and suddenly the place erupted. Wearing tiny outfits and (seemingly) trying to shake the rest out for all to see, they danced provocatively... I can only imagine the millions of adolescent boys drooling over their TV screens.
On my way home one night, I flipped on KDWB, the Twin Cities station for "today's hit music" as I do every once and a while. The song "Jesus Walks" by Kanea West (sorry about the spelling) was playing. I had never heard the song before but I was curious what it would be about so I turned up my radio a little... OK, a lot. The lyrics surprised me. He sang about how his mother had worried he would fall away from Jesus, but he hadn't; that he follows (walks) with Jesus now. I was actually a little bit impressed and smiled. Then lyrics went on, "If I mention God you don't play me on the radio," saying that when God is mentioned in songs no one will play those songs... that there is a biased against "religious" songs. Well now, that's kind of cool. It's nice to see an artist standing for something beyond themselves. But wait, the lyrics went on and suddenly the word "sh--" was bleeped out twice. Then he started singing a little faster and used the word "hell" a couple of times. Whoa, wait a minute. Suddenly I was confused. What this guy talks about obviously doesn't affect his vocabulary.
Soon after the song ended, the DJ began a conversation with an emerging rap artist. I can't remember her name but I do clearly remember one thing she said. After the DJ made a comment about her new album she gave a cheery shout-out to God by saying, "Bless the Lord" or "Praise the Lord" or something like that. (Sorry, I guess I don't remember that clearly after all.) Anyway, then she announced her song name (sung with Ludacris) entitled "Shake that Sh--". I'm totally confused now. Actually I'm both disgusted and confused.
I still can't seem to put my finger on what the problem is with these rappers. They don't honor the God or a god with their lives, their bodies, their lyrics, so why do so many thank him? Why are so many "grateful" to him? Why are so adamant about sharing this so-called thankfulness with an audience? I suppose it's to look good, but can that be all? If these rappers (there is a multiplicity of other artists who do this, not only rappers, just thought I'd throw that in as clarification) actually wanted to honor God or a god, wouldn't you find them following "religious" directions? Let me give an example. If someone says, "praise the lord" they are probably referring to the Christian "Lord". Look at this verse found in the Christian's Bible in James 1:26: "If you claim to be religious but don't control your tongue, you are just fooling yourself and your religion is worthless." That pretty much sums things up! But let's look somewhere else too. In the Koran, a Muslims Holy Book it says in The Cow 2.83: "...you shall speak to men good words and keep up prayer..." This too shows that if you have a desire to be religious, you should control the words that come out of your mouth, because sometimes that can be the only witness to whatever "faith" you may follow.
My curiosity about rap and rap artists is still here, of course. My speculations will always exist, but one thing that does become more clear is that in my own spiritual journey one of the most effective ways of sharing my beliefs is by the words I use. When I let wrong things slip out, I start to lose my positive influence on the people around me. If artists think they are setting positive examples by saying things like "praise the lord" they are totally fooling themselves.
"The Lord is righteous, and he loves justice. Those who do what is right will see his face." Psalm 11:7
September 26, 2004
The Goodnight Laugh...
I am so odd... seriously, I am probably the quirkiest person ever to walk the earth. Then again, maybe I'm just the only person who talks about their oddities openly, or maybe the only person who posts them on the web.
This is just a quick story about me. Actually it's something I still do, so I guess it's an on-going story. Whatever.
Whenever I get into bed -- OK, let me stop. I didn't say that right. It's not whenever I get into bed, it's every once and a while. Let me start over: Every once and a while (maybe once or twice a week) when I get into bed, I laugh... out loud and hard. Most of the time it's one of those suppressed laughs. You know when you laugh really hard but your not supposed to, your lungs are suddenly pressurized and they want to explode? It's that kind. The reason I don't laugh out loud (really loud) is that I would probably wake up my sister and / or feel like a freak if someone heard me laughing hard to myself.
So why do I laugh when I get into bed? Well, it's usually because I am literally so happy that I am finally getting into bed that I get extatically happy and - laugh. Some nights I get home very late from work (12-2am) and when I finally fall into bed I'm so grateful to be there I laugh and want to yell, "Oh, how I love my bed!"
So how weird am I? Really weird... oh, I mean differnent. Oh, come on, I can't be the only laughing bed-getter-inner...
This is just a quick story about me. Actually it's something I still do, so I guess it's an on-going story. Whatever.
Whenever I get into bed -- OK, let me stop. I didn't say that right. It's not whenever I get into bed, it's every once and a while. Let me start over: Every once and a while (maybe once or twice a week) when I get into bed, I laugh... out loud and hard. Most of the time it's one of those suppressed laughs. You know when you laugh really hard but your not supposed to, your lungs are suddenly pressurized and they want to explode? It's that kind. The reason I don't laugh out loud (really loud) is that I would probably wake up my sister and / or feel like a freak if someone heard me laughing hard to myself.
So why do I laugh when I get into bed? Well, it's usually because I am literally so happy that I am finally getting into bed that I get extatically happy and - laugh. Some nights I get home very late from work (12-2am) and when I finally fall into bed I'm so grateful to be there I laugh and want to yell, "Oh, how I love my bed!"
So how weird am I? Really weird... oh, I mean differnent. Oh, come on, I can't be the only laughing bed-getter-inner...
September 25, 2004
In Da Club...
I'm writing this as a journalist, I suppose. As someone who reports a story just as it happens. And although reporters are not supposed to put their own opinions into articles, most don't follow that rule so neither will I.
A week ago I was invited by some friends at work to go downtown and visit the Escape Ultralounge... an "upscale" dance club with a beautiful building and a strictly enforced dress code. I was told it wouldn't be a cruddy club like Tropix (I've never been there but would never go anywhere named Tropix), and that it would be so fun that I would enjoy myself all evening.
The day rolled around and no one contacted me. I was slightly (OK, very) uncomfortable about the idea of going and was only considering it so I could do something with the people I work with. I spent my evening with my family, volunteering at my Uncle's office to make telemarketer-like phone calls for the President. I had a fun evening with my family and arrived home around 10pm. I watched TV for about an hour before realizing I hadn't had my cell phone with me all night. I found it downstairs and saw that I had two missed calls. Oh, boy.
I gave my friend a call.
"Hey, it's me. Sorry, I didn't have my phone with me... are you guys all down there? Too bad I missed you..."
"No! We haven't gone! You should come, please! Meet at my house if you want and then you can follow me... can you come?"
"Sure."
It was almost 11:30 and all I wanted to do was climb into my pj's and hop into my nice warm bed with a cup of steamy cocoa and a novel. But I did the opposite. I put on some dressy clothes and went to my car.
The bouncer almost kicked me out. Escape is actually located inside a mall downtown, and after showing my ID, he looked down and said, "Oh, sorry I can't let you in... you're wearing tennis shoes." What an idiot! I had been told not to wear them, but had because they were comfortable. Besides, they were almost brand new, too!
"Who are you with?" he asked. "Them," I said, pointing to the group I was with. My friend, who was dressed up and looked perfectly "club-ish" turned around, smiled, and gave a little wave to the bouncer. "You can go," he said quickly.
We entered a long, low-lit hallway that wound around and finally brought us right to the middle of the dance floor. The feeling in the pit of my stomach grew stronger: I did not like it here, not one bit. I have never seen so many people packed into one building. My first reaction was disgust. There are too many people here, too much alcohol, and not enough oxygen. My two friends seemed relatively comfortable, and one said... actually she yelled (the music was so loud, but I'll get into that in a minute) "Let's go find my friends!" Then she dove into the dancing crowd. I dashed to keep up with her, pushing by people, rubbing up against at least 200 people, and finally finding.... no one. We turned around and headed back to the edge of the group, realizing we had lost our other friend. "Oh great," I thought. Then he popped out of the crowd. "Weird! I can't believe we found you!" we both screamed at him. Then the three of us, led by one, plunged back into the mass of bodies, trying to get into the middle of the crowd. Once there, and touching at least three people all the time, we tried to dance.
Anyone reading this realizes that in order to have fun dancing you must either, A) be happy, be with your friends, or want to dance, or B) be drunk. I was neither, and had to convince myself to dance. I tried my best to fit in, but there were a couple of factors I found distracting.
First of all, the music was so loud, my blood was probably whipped up into froth from the bass. I have never experienced bass that intense. My nostrils were buzzing, making me want to sneeze. Because of the pure volume of the music, all thought was driven out of my head. I was now a warrant of the club. Whatever they played or said, I heard... actually I did more than hear, every noise was pounded into my skull. Even now, days later, I still have offensive rap lyrics slipping through my mind.
Second, the floor moved. As the mass of bodies bounced in synchronization to the beat, the floor moved up and down from the sheer weight of the crowd. This was especially unnerving because it was so dark that their was little sense of which way was what.
Thirdly, the heat was almost unbearable. Dancing in the middle of the crowd was like baking in a giant oven. I could literally feel waves of body heat flowing from my feet up to the ceiling. Every once and a while, a cold wave of air would be shot out into the middle of the room. Whoa, what a feeling... it's like you could breath.
Looking back on that experience gives me two feelings: One is relief that I'm not there right now, and the other is a feeling of being thankful... I'm thankful that I am not trapped in a life like many of those people are. I have standards, morals, resolutions, dreams of something so much greater than dancing with whores I have never met.
The people at Escape had given into their animal instinct... the instinct that is inside us all, but doesn't come out with as much vengeance. It's like everyone there gave themselves - their minds and bodies - to everyone else. If you wanted to get on someone, get to it. If they wanted to get on you, they should feel free. This attitude was reflected to me the very moment I entered the room, and it terrified (and continues to terrify) me.
So what's the wrap-up? I went to da club in da hood with some peeps... I felt ill, rumbled, shook, baked, coughed, and tried to dance a little. I don't think I would ever EVER go back there, and I don't recommend it to you either.
I enjoy doing things with friends.... bowling, watching a movie, spooning... after my club experience these activities seem so lame... and so absolutely wonderful.
A week ago I was invited by some friends at work to go downtown and visit the Escape Ultralounge... an "upscale" dance club with a beautiful building and a strictly enforced dress code. I was told it wouldn't be a cruddy club like Tropix (I've never been there but would never go anywhere named Tropix), and that it would be so fun that I would enjoy myself all evening.
The day rolled around and no one contacted me. I was slightly (OK, very) uncomfortable about the idea of going and was only considering it so I could do something with the people I work with. I spent my evening with my family, volunteering at my Uncle's office to make telemarketer-like phone calls for the President. I had a fun evening with my family and arrived home around 10pm. I watched TV for about an hour before realizing I hadn't had my cell phone with me all night. I found it downstairs and saw that I had two missed calls. Oh, boy.
I gave my friend a call.
"Hey, it's me. Sorry, I didn't have my phone with me... are you guys all down there? Too bad I missed you..."
"No! We haven't gone! You should come, please! Meet at my house if you want and then you can follow me... can you come?"
"Sure."
It was almost 11:30 and all I wanted to do was climb into my pj's and hop into my nice warm bed with a cup of steamy cocoa and a novel. But I did the opposite. I put on some dressy clothes and went to my car.
The bouncer almost kicked me out. Escape is actually located inside a mall downtown, and after showing my ID, he looked down and said, "Oh, sorry I can't let you in... you're wearing tennis shoes." What an idiot! I had been told not to wear them, but had because they were comfortable. Besides, they were almost brand new, too!
"Who are you with?" he asked. "Them," I said, pointing to the group I was with. My friend, who was dressed up and looked perfectly "club-ish" turned around, smiled, and gave a little wave to the bouncer. "You can go," he said quickly.
We entered a long, low-lit hallway that wound around and finally brought us right to the middle of the dance floor. The feeling in the pit of my stomach grew stronger: I did not like it here, not one bit. I have never seen so many people packed into one building. My first reaction was disgust. There are too many people here, too much alcohol, and not enough oxygen. My two friends seemed relatively comfortable, and one said... actually she yelled (the music was so loud, but I'll get into that in a minute) "Let's go find my friends!" Then she dove into the dancing crowd. I dashed to keep up with her, pushing by people, rubbing up against at least 200 people, and finally finding.... no one. We turned around and headed back to the edge of the group, realizing we had lost our other friend. "Oh great," I thought. Then he popped out of the crowd. "Weird! I can't believe we found you!" we both screamed at him. Then the three of us, led by one, plunged back into the mass of bodies, trying to get into the middle of the crowd. Once there, and touching at least three people all the time, we tried to dance.
Anyone reading this realizes that in order to have fun dancing you must either, A) be happy, be with your friends, or want to dance, or B) be drunk. I was neither, and had to convince myself to dance. I tried my best to fit in, but there were a couple of factors I found distracting.
First of all, the music was so loud, my blood was probably whipped up into froth from the bass. I have never experienced bass that intense. My nostrils were buzzing, making me want to sneeze. Because of the pure volume of the music, all thought was driven out of my head. I was now a warrant of the club. Whatever they played or said, I heard... actually I did more than hear, every noise was pounded into my skull. Even now, days later, I still have offensive rap lyrics slipping through my mind.
Second, the floor moved. As the mass of bodies bounced in synchronization to the beat, the floor moved up and down from the sheer weight of the crowd. This was especially unnerving because it was so dark that their was little sense of which way was what.
Thirdly, the heat was almost unbearable. Dancing in the middle of the crowd was like baking in a giant oven. I could literally feel waves of body heat flowing from my feet up to the ceiling. Every once and a while, a cold wave of air would be shot out into the middle of the room. Whoa, what a feeling... it's like you could breath.
Looking back on that experience gives me two feelings: One is relief that I'm not there right now, and the other is a feeling of being thankful... I'm thankful that I am not trapped in a life like many of those people are. I have standards, morals, resolutions, dreams of something so much greater than dancing with whores I have never met.
The people at Escape had given into their animal instinct... the instinct that is inside us all, but doesn't come out with as much vengeance. It's like everyone there gave themselves - their minds and bodies - to everyone else. If you wanted to get on someone, get to it. If they wanted to get on you, they should feel free. This attitude was reflected to me the very moment I entered the room, and it terrified (and continues to terrify) me.
So what's the wrap-up? I went to da club in da hood with some peeps... I felt ill, rumbled, shook, baked, coughed, and tried to dance a little. I don't think I would ever EVER go back there, and I don't recommend it to you either.
I enjoy doing things with friends.... bowling, watching a movie, spooning... after my club experience these activities seem so lame... and so absolutely wonderful.
September 16, 2004
The Problem with People... It's Go Time...
To anyone who reads this: The problem with people is that they are just like other people.
I may know you and I may not know you. But one thing I do know is that people like being just like other people. I know I do. I like buying what my peers buy. I enjoy looking like my friends look. I enjoy shopping and hanging out and doing things not only with everyone but like everyone. But many people don't realize this one thing... if you step away from being like everyone, you step towards greatness. You see, you can't please everyone. That's what most of us try to do. We try to be the someone that agrees, complies; we try to be the "yes man" in situations at work or school. We think that makes us seem strong and we try to be strong because we can. We try to be strong because we can handle it. We all have that attitude. (If that isn't something you have experienced, you will.) But handling everything and doing it all so we don't miss anything isn't right. What happens? We burn out or get kicked out... both options leave you feeling pretty crappy. Trying to be like the next person does guarantee you with one thing... an "invisible cloak". And I suppose that's why we do it. We want to be quickly checked out, not thoroughly investigated. We want our lives to seem open, but actually be closed.
To all: Be someone different. Don't run with the good crowd or the bad crowd. Run with yourself. We are all called to be leaders in some way, and for some of us, it's go time. Here are some helpfuls: (1) Find someone wise in your life and walk with them; most will let you. (2) Develop your own personal board of directors (group you can learn from). (3) Focus on the "how" and "why," not just the "what" - people will notice. (4) Be an encourager! When you catch people doing something right, tell them!
If you are struggling like I am with your future plans, then try to develop what you focus on... in other words, when you find something that gives you great satisfaction, write it down! Read it over and over... think about things that make time go quickly, those are the things you are meant to do.
Be a person with four things: A Vision, A Mission, A Strategic Motivation and A Plan. Know yourself so well that you find great confidence in living. These four things will focus your life much more than you can imagine. Having a positive mindset will ease stress, even when you aren't exactly sure where you will end up.
"Leadership is willing to rise to the bottom."
-Dr. Glen Schultz
I may know you and I may not know you. But one thing I do know is that people like being just like other people. I know I do. I like buying what my peers buy. I enjoy looking like my friends look. I enjoy shopping and hanging out and doing things not only with everyone but like everyone. But many people don't realize this one thing... if you step away from being like everyone, you step towards greatness. You see, you can't please everyone. That's what most of us try to do. We try to be the someone that agrees, complies; we try to be the "yes man" in situations at work or school. We think that makes us seem strong and we try to be strong because we can. We try to be strong because we can handle it. We all have that attitude. (If that isn't something you have experienced, you will.) But handling everything and doing it all so we don't miss anything isn't right. What happens? We burn out or get kicked out... both options leave you feeling pretty crappy. Trying to be like the next person does guarantee you with one thing... an "invisible cloak". And I suppose that's why we do it. We want to be quickly checked out, not thoroughly investigated. We want our lives to seem open, but actually be closed.
To all: Be someone different. Don't run with the good crowd or the bad crowd. Run with yourself. We are all called to be leaders in some way, and for some of us, it's go time. Here are some helpfuls: (1) Find someone wise in your life and walk with them; most will let you. (2) Develop your own personal board of directors (group you can learn from). (3) Focus on the "how" and "why," not just the "what" - people will notice. (4) Be an encourager! When you catch people doing something right, tell them!
If you are struggling like I am with your future plans, then try to develop what you focus on... in other words, when you find something that gives you great satisfaction, write it down! Read it over and over... think about things that make time go quickly, those are the things you are meant to do.
Be a person with four things: A Vision, A Mission, A Strategic Motivation and A Plan. Know yourself so well that you find great confidence in living. These four things will focus your life much more than you can imagine. Having a positive mindset will ease stress, even when you aren't exactly sure where you will end up.
"Leadership is willing to rise to the bottom."
-Dr. Glen Schultz
September 15, 2004
The Dead Drunk...
It's a headline you read all too often: "WOMAN KILLED BY DRUNK DRIVER" Drunk driving is something our alcohol-prevalent society deals with much too often. In fact, in 2002 17, 419 people died from drunk driving accidents. That mean that over 40% of all traffic deaths are alcohol related. In 2001 over 500,000 people were injured in drunk driving accidents... That is a huge number!
We've all seen it. We drive past a car or truck that has been pulled over. There some jerk is, walking the line. You chuckle (at least I do) and probably mutter "moron" or some other polite saying under your breath (do you scream it out the window?) So what are the most common ways that state officials tell someone has had a little too much to drink? Here are some of the common Field Sobriety Tests (FSTs):
-Have the Driver:
-Try to walk in a straight line, heel-to-toe.
-Say the alphabet backwards (I don't think I can do that!)
-Tip his or her head back with eyes closed and try to touch the tip of the nose with the index finger
-Stand on one foot
But here's the question I'm posing: Why is that drunks in car accidents seem to be (commonly) less injured that pedestrians or other sober drivers? I've heard multiple accounts in which the driver (who is drunk) kills other innocent people but yet finds himself completely healthy. I've done a little research and have found nothing yet, but I assume that it's because the drunk person's body is so relaxed. Right before an accident, anyone would reactively tense up, preparing for the impact. But a completely clueless drunk that has no idea what's going on... Looking out the windshield is like watching a video game... is so unaware of what will happen, his body position and tension doesn't change. When the car gets impacted, his body flies where it wants, but he has no tension in his body that would help in muscle damage. Remember, I'm speculating here... but as I write this I'm more and more curious. Hmm..
So drink if you want. Just don't you dare drive around me. Once you let alcohol into your body, you give it the keys to not only your personality, but your intelligence. I for one enjoy having control of both of those things.
If you don't engage your culture, your culture will engage you.
We've all seen it. We drive past a car or truck that has been pulled over. There some jerk is, walking the line. You chuckle (at least I do) and probably mutter "moron" or some other polite saying under your breath (do you scream it out the window?) So what are the most common ways that state officials tell someone has had a little too much to drink? Here are some of the common Field Sobriety Tests (FSTs):
-Have the Driver:
-Try to walk in a straight line, heel-to-toe.
-Say the alphabet backwards (I don't think I can do that!)
-Tip his or her head back with eyes closed and try to touch the tip of the nose with the index finger
-Stand on one foot
But here's the question I'm posing: Why is that drunks in car accidents seem to be (commonly) less injured that pedestrians or other sober drivers? I've heard multiple accounts in which the driver (who is drunk) kills other innocent people but yet finds himself completely healthy. I've done a little research and have found nothing yet, but I assume that it's because the drunk person's body is so relaxed. Right before an accident, anyone would reactively tense up, preparing for the impact. But a completely clueless drunk that has no idea what's going on... Looking out the windshield is like watching a video game... is so unaware of what will happen, his body position and tension doesn't change. When the car gets impacted, his body flies where it wants, but he has no tension in his body that would help in muscle damage. Remember, I'm speculating here... but as I write this I'm more and more curious. Hmm..
So drink if you want. Just don't you dare drive around me. Once you let alcohol into your body, you give it the keys to not only your personality, but your intelligence. I for one enjoy having control of both of those things.
If you don't engage your culture, your culture will engage you.
September 14, 2004
College Dropout? Let me explain...
So. This is my first entry into what will be (what I hope will be) an outlet for my writing craze... and a fun place that my friends (and non-friends) can visit to be intrigued, entertained, saddened, maddened, crazed, startled, or energized. If you think of any other adverbs that will fit, please feel free to contact me.
So let's get started. I suppose I should first explain the "College Dropout" headline. This won't take long (that's fortunate for you) but isn't that exciting (that's unfortunate for you AND me)... Oh well, I'm dawdling (is that how you spell that...? I suppose that's wrong) but please, before I get going, let me just tell this stupid story.
After being homeschooled basically my entire life, I started attending my local highschool my freshmen year. I was thrown suddenly into public school surroundings. I was so incredibly nervous my first day. I didn't know how to handle myself; who to look at, who to NOT look at (a cousin of mine gave me this advice: "While walking through jock hall, don't make eye contact with anyone") Luckily, I wasn't that afraid, and ignored this so-called advice. One of the things I was most nervous about was eating lunch. There were THREE lines! I had no idea which line had which food and how much it cost. So for the first couple of months I brought my own bag lunch. My mom made it for me (bless her) and to keep it cold I would put it into once of those thermo-lunch bag things. But I was too terrified to show anyone that I had one of those thermo-bags so I kept it in my locker. Each day I would hike it on over to my locker to remove my brown-bag lunch from it's thermo-bag. I would then bring this to my lunch table and quickly devour it.
But then something happened.
One day my mom ran out of brown paper bags and had to put my whole lunch DIRECTLY into the thermo-bag. After reaching into my locker and realizing this, I (obviously) panicked. What would I do... There was no way in I was going to bring a THERMO-BAG to my lunch table and face pure ridicule from my peers. So I devised a plan. I stuffed each baggy of food into the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. Then, with a bulging stomach, I marched to my table, sat down, and removed each food-item one-by-one. I ate each one and pulled out the next...
Why did I think this was less weird that having a Thermo-Bag? I have absolutely no idea.
The first few days of band was strange too. I sat down by this creepy kid who only dressed in black... he introduced me to another kid by saying, "That's Brian, he's gay". I was confused. Was he really gay? Whoa. (Turns out he wasn't gay... I don't think...) Anyway, I got kicked out of band that same year and got a two-day detention for something I didn't do. While walking to the front of the room, all the guys were yelling, "Go to your room, Jeremy! Haha! I bet that's what detention is like in homeschool!!" They were loving it.
A year later I joined the marching band. On one of the school bus rides to our football game, we drove by my house. Just as the bus passed by a girl named Nicole stood up and screamed "LOOK! IT'S JEREMY'S SCHOOL!!! ... Do you live in a bubble?" Laughter, laughter, laughter. Good thing I'm so self-assured.
I went to a community college last year. This is actually the part of the story the article is named after. I went for one year and then... Well, here I am now. Schoolless, have a crappy job, I live at home and have a three-legged, one-eyed dog. Scratch that last part.
There's more to come... Stop by again soon.
So let's get started. I suppose I should first explain the "College Dropout" headline. This won't take long (that's fortunate for you) but isn't that exciting (that's unfortunate for you AND me)... Oh well, I'm dawdling (is that how you spell that...? I suppose that's wrong) but please, before I get going, let me just tell this stupid story.
After being homeschooled basically my entire life, I started attending my local highschool my freshmen year. I was thrown suddenly into public school surroundings. I was so incredibly nervous my first day. I didn't know how to handle myself; who to look at, who to NOT look at (a cousin of mine gave me this advice: "While walking through jock hall, don't make eye contact with anyone") Luckily, I wasn't that afraid, and ignored this so-called advice. One of the things I was most nervous about was eating lunch. There were THREE lines! I had no idea which line had which food and how much it cost. So for the first couple of months I brought my own bag lunch. My mom made it for me (bless her) and to keep it cold I would put it into once of those thermo-lunch bag things. But I was too terrified to show anyone that I had one of those thermo-bags so I kept it in my locker. Each day I would hike it on over to my locker to remove my brown-bag lunch from it's thermo-bag. I would then bring this to my lunch table and quickly devour it.
But then something happened.
One day my mom ran out of brown paper bags and had to put my whole lunch DIRECTLY into the thermo-bag. After reaching into my locker and realizing this, I (obviously) panicked. What would I do... There was no way in I was going to bring a THERMO-BAG to my lunch table and face pure ridicule from my peers. So I devised a plan. I stuffed each baggy of food into the pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. Then, with a bulging stomach, I marched to my table, sat down, and removed each food-item one-by-one. I ate each one and pulled out the next...
Why did I think this was less weird that having a Thermo-Bag? I have absolutely no idea.
The first few days of band was strange too. I sat down by this creepy kid who only dressed in black... he introduced me to another kid by saying, "That's Brian, he's gay". I was confused. Was he really gay? Whoa. (Turns out he wasn't gay... I don't think...) Anyway, I got kicked out of band that same year and got a two-day detention for something I didn't do. While walking to the front of the room, all the guys were yelling, "Go to your room, Jeremy! Haha! I bet that's what detention is like in homeschool!!" They were loving it.
A year later I joined the marching band. On one of the school bus rides to our football game, we drove by my house. Just as the bus passed by a girl named Nicole stood up and screamed "LOOK! IT'S JEREMY'S SCHOOL!!! ... Do you live in a bubble?" Laughter, laughter, laughter. Good thing I'm so self-assured.
I went to a community college last year. This is actually the part of the story the article is named after. I went for one year and then... Well, here I am now. Schoolless, have a crappy job, I live at home and have a three-legged, one-eyed dog. Scratch that last part.
There's more to come... Stop by again soon.
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