This is stupid

Ok so drew walked away from his coputer while he was babysitting me cuz my mom and dad went to the sinfony and he sad that this blog was pretty cool for whitman so maybe what i rote on it would be pretty cool. my name is steven i am 11 and the coolest thing i think would be fall out boy or yin yan twins they are the best and coolest bands specialy on mtv which is my favorite show. sometimes the yin yan twins talk about slapping hos so once time my mom was getting out the shower and i walked in with a piece of wood which was my pimp cane and i slaped a ho. she got really mad and put me in my room but then i just started on the snoop dog video and rubbing my crotch so she heard it and came in and made me wear rubber pants because she said i was dirty and jesus was sad for me. then another time my dad came home with anoter one of my aunts and he said not to tell mom that aunt bambi was over but instead i went to get the webcam and watched dad annd bambi fight over who got to be king of the hill. so then dad saw me in the window and said that he wud rip my head off if i didnt give him the video but i had already put in on myspace and everyone friendedm e cuz i had my dad and bambi NAKED on myspace and everyone loves it. then one my day friend billy came over and we decided to go get some candyh but we didnt have any money cuz billy cant work legally and neither can i so we got some squirt guns and black spray paint and made real live guns. we got some masks from the daycare and went to selveneleven and told the guy give us your money and candey. he got really scared for a second and then blew billy away with a pump action. i was scared but then i jumped the counter and grabed a weird display knife and put it in his gut while he put two more rounds of buckshot into the ceiling but he mised and i got all the candy i wanted and lots of money and beer. this was the story of the first time i got drunk off of beer and drew drank some too and we both got PSPs.

love
steven

The Origins of Magic

There is a lot of academic onanism going on when it comes to the subject of mythology. People dedicate their entire careers to becoming experts in the religious and occult practices of ancient cultures. Magic is inherently tied to these ancient practices. When browsing the various dictionary sites, I found that finding a suitable definition for the word "magic" is very difficult. Defining "magic" as "the use of charms and spells" doesn't enlighten someone at all. The thing is, we all know what magic is from fairy tales and books we read. What magic is and does is ingrained in our souls. So, when it happens around us, everyone recognizes magic when it happens.

Now, I'm not going off on some nerd vision-quest. I am trying to tell you that magic is real, it's just been a little skewed over 10,000 years of history. Humans use the word magic to describe anything another human can do that can't be explained. For example: There is a japanese man named Takeru Kobayashi who repeatedly wins the Nathan's hot dog eating contest. He weighs 110 pounds. He competes against men who weight 300+. Plenty of people reference how they think Takeru is able to eat so many hot dogs while remaining so small, but nobody really knows. Any strategies someone comes up with could not be reproduced by anyone walking down the street. A physicist could tell me how n theory Tony Hawk was able to do a 900 degree spin on his skateboard in a half-pipe, but that theory couldn't be brought into practice by anyone other than Tony Hawk. The only explaination is that magic is somehow involved.

The first human to be able to make fire was probably the first magician. Since then, humans have just been doing crazy shit that couldn't be explained and so the blanket term "magic" was always used. I'm sure the witches burned in Salem were probably just freaking people out because they could "fly" but really they were pulling some sick varial heelflip to nosegrab action in the first skate park in human history. Rasputin was "magic" because he could always guess what you ate for lunch just by smelling your burps. ALWAYS. It freaked some people out after a while. Merlin, probably the most well-known magician of all time, was the first human to ever grow a beard.

Magic still happens today. You just have to look around. When someone throws a bowling ball and it jumps to the other lane and gets a strike, that's not luck, that's some dark magic that that person unwittingly summoned out of the abyss. When your drunk friend throws a dart behind his back and nails a bullseye, that's holy magic. Just keep your eyes open.

Sanskara

My psych class has been doing a lot of dream work lately. I used to be a big fan of Freudian dream analysis (mostly because it made me feel smart) but lately it's falling out of favor with me. The problem with Freudian analysis is that it is looking for universal patterns instead of context sensitive patterns. I understand that Freud believed that a suitcase represents the womb, but who cares? Freud was one guy and if you break down the elements he chose to imbue with symbolic significance, you start to get a picture of a pretty fucked up old man.

A dream interpretation approach that I'm finding much more interesting comes from Fritz Perls' person-centered therapy. Perls' believed that everything in the dream, all the characters, the setting, the objects, the sensations and events, EVERYTHING IS THE DREAMER. There's this great example in a video where Perls (who looks like Karl Marx after a four day cocaine binge) is walking this student through a dream. In the dream, the student is going up a mountain path when he has a surreal encounter with a friend. The encounter isn't even interesting to Perls, he focuses entirely on just the path until the student realizes himself that he doesn't like being tread upon by others. He is the path. It's really powerful because instead of a doctor telling you what your dreams mean, Perls' approach allows the dreamer to discern the significance on their own. Remember, every fucked up thing that shows up in your dreams is self-created. You are what you dream and Freud only came up with a translation tool... Perls challenges his clients to write their own language.

Buddhists call things that reoccur in the mind "Sanskara". Sanskara are ideas, thoughts, feelings or events which continue to play out. Some people can't get over feelings of inferiority, the time they hit a deer on the road, or resentment at a peer for getting a promotion. However they manifest, I believe that Sanskara play an especially important role in Perls form of dream analysis. My theory is that you can combine the approaches of both Freud and Perls in order to create an interpretive method for your own dreams.

Here's how it works: Keep a dream journal for at least two weeks. Make sure that the paper and pen are close enough to your bed that you don't have to get up. Getting up ruins your remembering. Jot down every detail you can about the dream- it doesn't have to be chronological- sometimes I find that I begin remembering more as I'm taking notes. Resist the temptation to interpret! At the end of the two weeks, take note of tangibles which reoccur in your dreams. Not feelings, like "Oh, in my dreams I'm always lost". I'm talking about things- Racoons, Squash, Periodic Tables, whatever. Now continue your dream logging and the next time you have a dream with part of your sanskara present, take that dream into a counseling situation where you can work out the personal symbology. The important thing is to prepare yourself to know what to look for before moving forward and trying to recognize its significance. Within a few months, you can construct an entire dictionary of personal dream analysis.

The untested problem with this theory is that the human mind is real clever. Once I know what my dreams mean, my brain might start fucking with me. Reminds me of this Beck song, except I think he's singing it to a girl, but I like to sing it to my brain. And just for you curious cats out there, one of the elements of my sanskara is Zombies.

"You have: 87 unheard messages. First message..."

For me, Spring Break is officially over. For others, it will be over on Sunday evening. For another marginal group the big SB will never end because it continues on in their hearts year-round. These are the people wearing flip-flops in the dead of winter and talking about doing things "hella." The perpetual Spring-Breakers don't ever want to live anywhere other than Cancun or Daytona Beach, and undoubtedly their solution for ensuring eternal fun in the sun is something along the lines of teaching surfing lessons or selling fake passports.
When I say SB is over, don't think that anything has actually changed. The legitimacy of saying "I can do this thing I normally wouldn't do because it's SPRING BREAK" is no longer valid. You have to come back to the real world now, in theory. If its Spring Break and you stay up all night drunk and high playing video games, that's cool. Why not go for a pizza and take a nap in the bed of your pickup truck? Fuck it, it's Spring Break. If you did this when it wasn't Spring Break, people might call you a number of names, not the least of which might be "vagrant" or "transient" considering your unusual propensity to sleep in the beds of pickup trucks. Undoubtedly there will be those males at Whitman College and all other colleges around the country who decide this Sunday night will be the night they "party" the "hardest" becuase "it's the last night of Spring Break!" (I am using quotations a lot because you can't say the word "party" with a normal tone of voice; you have to try to mimic Sean Penn in Fast Times At Ridgemont High.) These sad souls will find each other like moths find a burning baby carriage. This is unexplainably sad. For whatever reason, dim-witted nostalgia for dim-witted pastimes is always sad. There are guys out there who really fucking liked the XFL, and it would be sad for me to meet these people and try to have a logical discussion about how shitty the XFL really was, despite the hotness and/or looseness of the team cheerleaders.
I am sure none of the readers of this fine electronic news source would ever dream of such a departure into Neanderthalism. But, if you really must send off Spring Break with a bang, try a new trick I learned and shoot a flare into a McDonald's dumpster. There are colors you wouldn't believe.

New Yorkers are Unhealthy

After spending the last four days in Manhatten I have come to a basic understanding: New Yorkers are unhealthy people. I observe this by their height, plain and simply. I'm a tall guy. Not hugely tall, but normally one of the three tallest people in any social setting (outside the basketball court, which I don't attend, so that solves that) but in New York I saw only two men during the entire trip who were noticeably taller than I. I got back to the Northwest and was immediately comforted by not being the looming giant on the subway or streets. I think there's something about the constant contaminating effects of surliness and toxins that stunts New Yorkers' height. I'm no scientist, but I know something about unhealthy living. And New York aint healthy.

Oh, Gross! That's Gross!

With all this talk about academic-speak, I had to throw in two more cents.

(1). We at the Monstro often talk about 'mental or intellectual diarrhoea.' As seniors, we happen to be very good at it. Oh noes! A paper is due in 3 hours? Just poop something from your mind, and it'll probably be good.

G(r)eek that I am, I know the roots of the word dia- "through," rhoea- "to flow." I've always wanted to create the proper Greek noun to describe what's actually happening. The best I could come up with is phrenorhoea or noosorhoea. These words aren't particularly funny...I have done to myself a great shame.

Which brings me to my next topic!

(2). When you say something just way too nerdy (as I just have), whether in class (when you reference another class's material), among your friends, out to dinner, wherever! You have "nerded" yourself. That is to say, you have soiled yourself with "nerdery." When you commit this bungle, this faux pas of all social blunders, just announce it to your friends: "Oh dear, I've nerded myself."

Should you say it with enough deprecation (hint: practice saying it as if you HAD soiled yourself), you will certainly diffuse your embarrassment. Welcome back to the pack, noob!

(Note: I do not take responsibility for the consequences that may arise should you say this on a first date or among the elderly).

Anonymity

Over the last week or so, our Blogue has become active. People have been commenting more than ever before and to our great delight they are hiding behind that false visage of anonymity the internet provides. We are members of a community which makes up the vast majority of our readership. If members of that community feel confidently enough about their opinions that they would air them publicly, then they should certainly take accountability for those opinions. All members of the Blogue post under their own names and stand by their material, whether it's written in seriousness of jest. Play along and banter with us, riff even, just don't hide in the Federal Witness Protection Program.