Sunday, September 2, 2012

Discovering Science


It was an early morning after coming home from closing at my minimum-wage-earning cafĂ© job when I first remembered that I loved science. I had no homework (well, I did, but I was willing to forget it)and no further responsibilities for the day other than eight episodes of Doctor Who with my name written all over them. That was the goal: get home, check Facebook, Doctor Who all night long. Sleep if for wussies. Inevitably in my “check Facebook” part of the schedule, I got sidetracked to one of my favorite meme-carrying websites. That took me to a two-minute clip of Bill Nye, the science guy, talking about traveling the stars, curiosity, and exploration. From that point, Doctor Who was priority number two, because my master and idol, the only man who made science make sense, was talking. The Science Guy was back, and I was ecstatic.
Now, remember I said I had to remember my love of science. Any Doctor Who fan knows that memories can be forgotten but they’re usually right there right below the surface, waiting for the trigger that brings them back to life. When I was a kid, science was one of my favorite subjects. I never had to study for a History or Science test right up through about fourth and fifth grade. This was a bad habit to get into, because pretty soon I was upon Biology and I didn’t know an electron from a neutron. Looking back on that, I probably still don’t. So, my brilliantly apathetic brain and I just decided to give it up for dead there, bury ourselves in the magical world of Harry Potter and The Hobbit, and forget that science existed, let alone science homework. (Note some redundancies, yet?)
Then my step-mom gave me this book called The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy. Go buy it if you don’t have it. In it, I found the term ‘Anthropology’ and science found me again. Social sciences are easy for me to understand; I can rattle off a lecture on cultural paradigms faster than you can spell antidisestablishmentarianism. Anthropology is sociology, psychology, history, religion, osteology, and statistics rolled into one beautiful ball of multi-national, time-defying yarn for my inner kitten/three year old to play with. So science and I started to become acquainted again without me consciously realizing it, but this was just my toes in the end of the kiddie pool.
Back to Bill Nye. The science guy is part of a YouTube production called “The Big Think” where a dozen scientists have come together to discuss and lecture on their various fields. After watching Bill Nye’s current seven episodes, I was left with this empty place in my brain where more Bill Nye should be. To fill the void, I watched a 42 minute lecture by Theoretical Physicist Michio Kaku called The Universe in a Nutshell. Some barrier in my mind exploded, and I was on the verge of tears at being reunited with my old forgotten friend, Science.
I began to wonder what had kept us apart for so long, and with a slow, creeping chill I realized that it was my education. It was the difference between the dryly captioned graphs and pictures in textbooks and Bill Nye’s use of color, humor, and reliable objects, yes, but it was perhaps also the grades. I am a curious person, but a terrible student because I have an irrational, mortifying fear of getting information wrong: Anything from a person’s name to a quote from a popular movie can send me spiraling into a very carefully concealed panic attack. I learned from people like Bill Nye and Steve Irwin more about the world than I have from any classroom and what I learned from them stuck with me to this day: Partly because I wanted to know, partly because they didn't grade me on it
These guys don't judge you on you marks, they deduce your worth... WITH SCIENCE.
But I’m a big bad college student now. Why aren’t I taking classes on Physics like I should be? It’s sad, really… I’m not smart enough. I’ve tried and failed at remedial math classes, and aside from that am stuck in a never-ending loop of prerequisites everywhere I turn. I really don’t care if I’m graded on what I know; I would read a textbook on theoretical physics in my free time if such a thing didn’t cost two hundred dollars and up. Why does it feel like the educational system is impeding education? Why does it cost so much money to learn?
All I’m saying is, if text books were twenty bucks, I’d have a shot at being a Theoretical Physicist.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

Romancing the Friend Zone



     A short blog by Writting Rabbit.


The odds are never in your favor.

When I started this blog, I never intended to cover a topic so full of borrowed advice as ‘relationships,’ but this friend zone thing is trending. I’m not here to tell you how to get out of the friend zone. I can’t even give you surefire steps to keep you out of one. What I can give is some helpful tips from a girl to help guys (Ladies, if I could help us, I would.) have a better chance in the world.

-Let’s remember that everyone has been friend zoned at one point or another. It doesn’t mean you’re ugly or lacking, it just means that there’s nothing there to build on. It hurts and it sucks, but move on: It’s the healthy thing to do.

-Guys, please note that whatever sitcoms teach you, REAL ladies don’t need to be complimented every five minutes: We don’t need to be put on a pedestal. We are not queens, princesses, or megalomaniacs (usually) so don’t treat us like we are. After all, hollow compliments are really just lies, and no relationship should be built on lies. (TLDR: “You’re cool” is an adequate compliment to be used only when it fits the situation.)

-Over-protection is not a virtue. A girl can have guy friends that are not on her list of boyfriend material (that friend zone thing, remember?) and she does not need you to scare her friends away. In fact, that might just be a one-way ticket to whatever is past friend zoning. Purgatory zone?

-Have common interests. Yeah, that same old lame advice: But a house can’t stand without a foundation. Common interests are that foundation.


-Balance. Be a friend, but don’t be a friend so long that that’s all she sees you as. How do you find that balance? Get to know each other and find those mutual interests. Somewhere between a week and a month should be enough time. If you discover no mutual interests, stop there. Being just friends is sometimes okay.

-Balls. Grow them. Make a plan for a date. Say something like, “Let’s go here and here as a date.” Make sure to tell her it’s a date. Yes, there is the chance she will say she doesn't want to date you, but, hey, it saves you money and a long awkward night of both of you knowing this is a date and you being the only one happy about it.

I hope I helped a little,
Writting Rabbit
     (because rabbits can't spell)

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Daydreams and Delirium

Let's face it, weird just isn't weird anymore. The full-body tattoo suits that once drew crowds of onlookers at fairs and circuses now barely prompt disdainful glances and shakes of the head. The nerd society who once read their comic books and Tolkien in the shadowy confines of school locker prisons are now a free, even overpopulated, pop-culture. Now it requires joining a whole new sub-culture just to try and prove yourself weird, because God forbid you actually did like Tolkien's books before they were movies and wind yourself up in the hipster category. In this topsy-turvy world of cool strangeness what does it take to be an oddball?

Well, it certainly isn't posting your own mini-autobiography on the web for everyone to see--that's normal. The stories are real, but the names are fake: everyone feels like a spy and no-one gets hurt. Actually, a mini-autobiography is my whole purpose for blogging, just in case I die before my semi-satirical, profound(ly useless) opinions have been relayed in a book format I can make retirement money off of. This way I can rest assured that when I do die, an anthropologist thousands of years in the future will find my hopefully well preserved skeleton and know that I stood a lot and held a pencil a lot and that I probably ate colorful uranium because Heinz told me it would be delicious; but random strangers on the internet would know me for the cheerfully self-destructive, coffee-swilling, addictive personality that I am. How's that for immortality?

So back to what makes weird. I wish I could say that that is the most important question to life and the universe, but the answer is not 42 so it must not be. We will have to settle with the answer "I don't know." Weird is not made by creed or nation, by color of skin, eyes, or hair whether yours be black or green. Weird is not a jibe or a title, but perhaps a state of being. It has nothing to do with religion or culture, not really. Weird seems to be what goes against the norm, what chafes the fabric of daily life. By that definition, is weirdness... being happy? Depression has hit an all-time high, drug and alcohol abuse and suicide rates tell us that the world seeks escape from the life it is in. Addictions of each and every kind are merely behaviors which make us feel better, if only for a while.

 My name is Writting Rabbit (because rabbits can't spell) and I live my life addicted to caffeine, daydreams, and the laughter of my friends.