1 Year Island-versary...

It's official.  I have been living in Hawaii for one full year now. I can safely say that I would not have predicted the way things have turned out. I feel I have changed a lot this past year. Looking back on my earlier posts, I was a very angry girl. I think my frustration stemmed from my living situation with the added pressures of being a new graduate student. I was homesick. I missed my friends and family. I missed doing things the exact way I was used to doing them. I was disappointed with my program. I constantly compared Hawaii to Ohio... Now that I have been here for a while, I feel I can say that neither state is better than the other; they are very different. It's like comparing apples to pineapples. I can also say that I am happy, for the most part, that I live on this beautiful island.

I still desperately miss my friends and family back home, but I have met some pretty cool people here too. I am definitely  more comfortable here now than several months ago.  Although I may not have the same quantity of friends here as I did back in Ohio, I have made a few quality ones in this last year. There are still plenty of times that I think people out here don't quite get me, but I handle it better now. Everyone has a different sense of humor. Surprise! Not everyone is going to find me exactly charming, so fuck 'em.

This next year I will be a seasoned graduate student. I will be trying to finish everything as quickly as possible, and it's going to be difficult. I now have a job in my field. I have cool friends. I live in an awesome house with awesome people. I will probably run into some frustrations along the way, but who doesn't? I can also say that I don't regret moving out here at all. Even during the darkest times, I am thankful for the life experiences I had while living on this island. Whether I move next year or in ten years or never leave at all, I will always have these times to serve as a guide for my future endeavors. They will be pinpoints on the road map of my life. (I am so sorry for the cheesiness of that last line)

I am excited to see what the next year here will bring me, and I am excited to share the experience with my friends (both old and new).

Dude... I Might be a Bro.

The newest thing to hit the bro-world is Broetry (Read "Impact." It's my personal fave.)  It's poetry, you know, for dudes. Truth.

The Jezzies over at Jezebel are not fans, to say the least; Nothing but snark as far as the eye can see. I just don't understand all the hate for all things bro. Sure the bros can be obnoxious, but not any more obnoxious than the hipsters peddling their poorly produced music and "ironic" clothing choices. As I was reading some of the broems, it hit me like a case of Natty at a frat party: I might be a bro.

The Bros and I have a lot of shared interests. Drinking beer, eating pizza, watching sports, playing beer pong, action movies, video games, etc. Although I may not talk about "banging bitches" or boobies, my friends and I have spent many an hour objectifying the shit out of the guys around us and on television. We have "lengthy" discussions, if you will. For those who didn't catch it, that was a penis joke.  So does liking these things make me a bro?

In general, I find the bros easier to approach at bars than non-bros. With bros, I just have to go up to them and say something about sports (usually a detailed explanation about why I think their team sucks balls). Boom! Instant conversation and perhaps a free drink or two. I enjoy sports. They enjoy sports. I think they are cute in that wholesome-home-grown-corn-fed-all-American boy sort of way. They think that I am cute in that alternative-pierced-tattooed-pixie-haircut-chubby-vegetarian girl sort of way. Everybody wins.

My usual day-to-day attire is jeans, a pair of flip flops, and some sports related t-shirt. My hair can easily morph into a faux-hawk with a little bit of wax. I can be pretty obnoxious awesome when I drink. I am overly competitive, and I back this up with a false bravado; I have been known to tell people to "suck my dick" on occasion. I keep a picture of The Shoe as my computer and phone wall paper ALL THE TIME. I will kick your ass in beer pong. I like fist-bumping and high-fiving. All of these things are common attributes of bros, right?  So, I think I might be a bro.

Except.... Maybe not.... I definitely have better taste in music than the common bro. Because really... fuck Dave Matthews Band.

Thoughts on Google+ and Why It Won't Kill Facebook (for now)

Since I have been dicking around on Google+ for the last few hours, I am pretty much an expert. Seriously, it is very clean looking and fairly easy to navigate. These were the things that put Facebook ahead of the late (not so) great MySpace. People like things to be clutter-free and easy to operate.  But the things that Facebook has over Google+ is the nostalgia factor and several years invested in building a relationship (albeit rocky at times) with its clients.

I have had my Facebook account for about 6 years now. 6  FUCKING YEARS. I am almost embarrassed by the amount of time I have spent on it. It's  because of these countless hours that I won't be able to cut ties with my beloved Facebook account any time soon. Get comfortable 'cause I am going to take you down a trip down memory lane. Yeah... shit just got real.

Picture it: Summer 2005. I had graduated high school and was getting pretty excited about starting my freshman year at THE Ohio State University. I was spending the weekend in Columbus with a small group of friends from high school (oddly enough, they are the only ones I still stay in contact with, but that's another story). We were going to the Renaissance Fair because we were(are) supah cool. Since no parents were around, there were plenty of alcoholic drinks to be had. I never drank in high school; so the couple glasses of Smirnoff Ice and pink Catawba wine had gone straight to my head.  We all had a little bit of a buzz, when one of my friends turned to me and asked if I had my OSU email address yet. After I responded in the affirmative, they all gleefully (I like to imagine them holding hands and skipping, but it was probably more like a fast-paced stumble) ran to bedroom and brought up Facebook.  I had never even heard of this thing they were so excited about. Once we finished creating my account, I felt like I was part this elite club. It was a club that only people in college could join. 

This was the start of the Golden Era for Facebook. Every new feature was awesome.  Facebook could do no wrong. The ability to add photo albums of my college adventures really rocked my shit. It was this awesome time when you could friend anybody you ever had a class with -- even that know-it-all, pretentious dick from English 110 who thought he was so smart, but totes did not get what the hot TA was really saying about Beckett's Endgame. You totally did though. You connected with the gorgeous thing in jeans and tweed jacket with patches over the elbows. Oh hey! You could friend your hot TA, because he was hip and had a Facebook. Oh no! He did not put anything for sexual preferences!... Gay. Oh well. He is still pretty dreamy... The moral of the story was that Facebook was awesome when it was more selective. Users felt somewhat safe that some creep isn't looking at their profiles. Or if there was a creep looking at your profile, at least the creep was in college.

Then things took a turn for the worst. Facebook allowed anyone to join. At first, it was just a bunch of high school kids and young adults who did not go to college. As it grew in popularity, more old folks wanted to get in on this action. Moms, dad, and grandparents wanted to check in on their precious little snowflakes. These people who could barely text started poking and "liking" things left and right.  Farmville happened. Facebook was no longer cool.

By this time, it had become a huge part of our everyday interactions though. "Did you see my post?" "Did you get my invite?" "I can't believe so-and-so broke up with what's-his-face." It's annoying, but true. Many times I have considered deleting my account, but to do so I would become a social pariah. Not to mention, I would have nothing to do when I was killing time between class. Plus, I have posted tons of photos. Some of the photos have been lost over time due to hard drive crashes. At least with Facebook I will have access to them.  I thought about starting a fresh; Unfriending everybody I haven't talked to in a month. I just couldn't do it. I don't want to be rude. I know how it feels to browse someone's profile and you find they have unfriended you. What's the purpose of social network if you don't network after all?

And this is the reason why Facebook will stick around for a long, long time. People like me who can't let anything go. I have boxes upon boxes of t-shirts from events and groups I participated in. I can't throw them away because they have memories (I promise I am not a hoarder).  Facebook is the same way. It has memories attached to it. Remember those few months when everyone put "stickers" on each others walls ? Or the first time you untagged an unflattering photo?

The best metaphor I could come up with is that Facebook has become the Linkin Park of social networks.  Yeah you heard me. Think about it. You really loved it when  it first came out.  It was edgy, cool, and your  parents hated it. As you grew older, your tastes changed. Your parents started to not hate it. It wasn't cool to listen to it anymore. In fact, you are kind of embarrassed whenever it pops up on shuffle, but you just can't get rid of it. Although when nobody is around, you like to put on that Hybrid Theory album and rock out like it's 2000... sometimes.

Google+ offers me that option of starting over without being rude or deleting the friends I am no longer close with. I can use it as my main social network but keep little ol' Facebook on the side.  Facebook can become more like that email address I use when signing up for discount cards and stuff. I can be much more discerning about who I add, and what gets streamed to me. Finally, I don't have to hear about some high school classmate's toddler doing something completely trite. I don't give a fuck that your little angel does the "funniest" things. I just don't.

My Mid-Grad School Crisis.

I blame my parents and teachers.

They believed in me. They told me I was bright, special and full of potential. While they were filling my head with thoughts of grandeur, I was doing very little. I never felt like I was pushed to apply myself. Everybody around me was more than satisfied with the minimal amount work I put forth. My whole life I devoted very little effort to anything academic, yet I was still managed to rise to the top of my class. Even in my undergraduate classes, I spent little time worrying my work. I never worried about grades. Things had a way of falling into my lap. In fact, I started to push the envelope on how much I could slack before starting a project. I would get this sort of adrenaline high from completing a project just in the nick of time. I would chuckle to myself when I received my grade, "If this is the grade I got without trying, just imagine if I actually applied myself."

Now in graduate school, I find it hard to shake my bad habits. Unfortunately, people don't seem to find me nearly a brilliant as the people in my past. It's as if they want me to try harder, and I just don't know how or what they want from me. So here I am, rethinking all my life decisions.

I think the reason I never put much effort into anything is because I have this intense fear of failing. Or maybe I was never as smart as they said I was. I am fraud. I have tricked them all for the last twenty-four years, and it seems as though the jig is up. My luck has run out.

I have never quit anything. I have never failed anything. I will find a way to make things better. I am sure that smart young woman is still somewhere inside buried beneath layers of idleness and sloth. I just need to figure out a way to coax her out and teach her how to work. I need to figure out how to do this soon.

In Defense of the E-Reader

Because nothing says "procrastination" like writing a blog post.

Ah, yes. To e-read or not to e-read? That is the question. Currently there are several camps in the Great E-Reader War, and I am not talking about Nook v. Kindle (For the record, iPads are stupid and don't count). There are several groups that have strong feelings about the use of e-readers and their place in the world of literature.

 As technophile and a book lover, I often find myself at a crossroad. As cliche as this sounds, I love the smell and feel of books. When I was growing up, I found that most of the kids in grade school and junior high either too cruel or too stupid to deal with. So I used a rather escapist strategy, and fled to the different worlds within my books. Other times, I would read to escape the doldrums when I finished an assignment. There was a long period of time when my sister and I spent every afternoon in the local library. I still have dreams of one day owning a personal library like the one in "Beauty and the Beast" (rolling ladder and all). The smell of libraries and book stores has a calming effect on me. I currently have a position in the school library, and my favorite task is gathering all the books that people requested. I love to wander the musty stacks; Often times, I find more books for myself than I do for the patrons. I love feeling the pages. I even like the risk of a possible paper-cut. It's a battle scar I can discuss over a beer. "Oh, this one? I got this one from spending a late night with Aldous Huxely." I dog-ear pages and write notes in the margins of my favorite books. I love looking at my bookshelf and seeing an entire collection. So, yeah. I love books, but more than that I love the simple act of reading.

Cue my technophilia: E-readers are convenient. With out-of-copyright literature, I have my choice of thousands of classic pieces for FREE. I don't need to drive to a library or the book store. I can read the Epic of Gilgamesh, switch over to Leaves of Grass, throw in some Austen or Shelley (depending on my mood, of course), and finally settle on something by Oscar Wilde while sitting at the beach. At any given point in any given day, I carry with me several hundred books (Not to mention the PDFs of countless journal articles).  Also if I buy a newer NYT bestseller and/or "fun" book like "Chelsea Bang Bang" I can do so at a discounted price, and they don't take up my very limited space in my tiny apartment. So yeah. I love my e-reader too.

When I see internet memes like the Judgemental Bookseller Ostrich or read the comments of  the Hyper Critical "Jezzies", I cannot understand why people are trying so hard to keep this firm grasp on an antiquated past. We should be embracing this new technology, not running from it. It makes literature more accessible to both the casual and avid readers.

And have no fear, the books that truly move me will find their permanent place on my bookshelf.

How Firm Thy Friendship, Ohio?

Once again, I am glad I am living on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  I hear talk of the beach and how bad the weather has been. Sometimes I hear talk about theoretical framework, but I tend to tune that out. I don't hear any talk of Tressel, Ohio State, or shame.

First, I am going to bore my faithful three readers with a delightful anecdote. Picture it: Columbus. Oct. 25th, 2008. The Horseshoe. A Deck. First quarter of the OSU/PSU game...
 A few of my girl friends and I were enjoying the game, cheering on Buckeyes. In front of us stood two twenty-something dudes wearing blue and white. Yeah, a couple of Penn State fans chose to watch the game from the middle of lion's den. Behind us stood (I use this term loosely) some of Ohio State's less-than-finest. They were shouting some unsportsmanlike comments at the Penn State fans. The boys in front of us didn't react, but they did look nervous. Perhaps they had made a bad decision? Not even halfway through the first quarter and the locals were restless. Sensing their uneasiness, my friend, B., turned to the inebriated Buckeyes behind us and asked them to refrain from the unsportsmanlike language. They turned their anger towards her. I prepared myself to jump in, but then this conversation happened.

B: Hey! What would your mother think if she heard you say these things?
Boy: My mom's a bitch! I don't care! *high fives bro*
B: Ok... Well, what would Coach Tressel think? *quizzical eyebrow*
Boy: Oh....
B: Would he say what you said was "classy"?
Boy: No. Not really....
B: Ok. Well let's keep it classy... for coach.
The boys immediately apologized the PSU fans and later were too drunk to noticed we had lost. They were too busy talking to the Penn State fans. TRUE STORY.

That's what Coach Tressel meant to the community. He is more than just a football coach. He was the image of classiness and sportsmanship. At some point at every single party, there was a toast to the man in The Vest.

Ever since Tresselgate broke a few days ago, I have changed my feelings about 17.6 times: denial, rage, embarrassment, rage again, hope, shame, sadness, rage again, melancholy, numbness, malaise, etc.
To say I was/am upset is a gross understatement. I was/am pissed. Pissed at Jim. Pissed at the players. Pissed at the media. Pissed at non-Buckeyes. Pissed at Buckeyes. Pissed at myself.

I kept holding out hope, that this was huge misunderstanding. Jim Tressel would never do something like that. He is a stand-up guy. He has integrity. He has class. He wrote a book about winning at life (not in the Charlie Sheen way) for, pete's sake! He is slow to anger. When he is angry, he doesn't shout. He maintains class under pressure...


I will never know what was going through his head when he received those emails. I won't pretend to ever know. No one will ever know. To speculate is wrong. Was it pressure to win? Was it paternal instinct for a few stupid kids? Was it just a "rational" decision? Some odd combination? Did he have a really good burger at Thurman's and just forget about the whole ordeal? No one except Jim Tressel will know what went through his head the moment he opened his email account and the months that followed.
What would you do? What would I do? I could bore you with story about my days as games supervisor at Cedar Point (Short story:  I let a friend get away with not shaving because I was short staffed and got in trouble).  It doesn't matter. We weren't there. Who is to say what we would ever do in a situation? We just don't know.

What's done is done. He made a mistake. He should be punished. Yes, his (and the program's) image is tarnished (for now). BUT we should not punish him because of his air of integrity prior to this scandal. He should be punished for his offense. He is human, thus fallible. We have to remember this. His punishment should only be based on precedented cases, not based on our feelings towards him a person. If we are harder on him because he is a "good guy," should we take it easy on the "bad guys" because that's what we expected from them? The shame and disappointment are already added into any punishment for the "good guys." Objectivity is key.

I am not calling for his resignation. I think those who do are blowing this out of proportion. Unless he is found to have helped set up Pryor's paypal, he does not deserve to be fired. After all, in the grand scheme of things he did NOT: hurt someone, sexually harass anyone, or pay to recruit players. He lied to protect a few dumb kids who sold things they believed belonged to them. It's bad. He should do his time for the crime, and then we should all move on and learn a lesson about this.

I believe that people (fellow Buckeyes) are especially angry because of the way information travels this day and age. Non-Buckeyes have been gloating on Facebook for the past couple days. They feel vindicated that the Great Jim Tressel has been taken down a peg. It hurts a lot. It sucks. It's embarrassing. But remember back when Woody punched a kid on television? There was no Facebook or Twitter. It sucked, but his legacy has remained mostly intact. He was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame just five years later. Am I saying we should build a "Jim's" in the Union next to "Woody's"? Not exactly. All I am saying is that we shouldn't turn coat or call for his head on a pike as soon as something embarrassing happens. Let's take a breath and wait to see how everything turns out.

Time and change will surely show... How firm thy friendship, Ohio?...

Attention People of the World

There are major differences between marijuana leaves and buckeye leaves. It's time you learn them so you can leave me alone.

Many plants have leaves with five leaflets. The buckeye tree is one of them. "The leaves are palmately compound with five (rarely seven) leaflets, 8–16 cm (3-6 in.) long and broad" (Wikipedia 2011).
Also, it is a symbol of pride for many Buckeyes. I happen to have a tattoo of a buckeye leaf behind my ear. It was made to resemble the sticker that is placed on The Ohio University's football players' helmets.

This is NOT a marijuana leaf. I repeat: NOT MARIJUANA.

Typically when drawing pakalolo, artists give the plant anywhere from seven to nine leaflets. Also, the leaflets are much narrower and longer than other plants' leaves (eg. the buckeye leaf).

This IS a marijuana leaf.

So the next time you see a young person walking down the street  with a bright green leaf on their shirt (or a small tattoo behind her ear), count the leaves before passing judgment.


Remember one thing:

IS NOT

 










Now that you are aware of a few differences. Please. PLEASE. Leave me the fuck alone. Thanks.

"Why Are You Still Single?" And Other Things You Should Not Say Jan. 13, 2011

“Why Are You Still Single?” And Other Things You Should Not Say

Winter break = Mainland Adventures
During the few weeks I spent in Ohio, I spent several days in my little hometown in southern Ohio. As with any trip home, comes the awkward reunions with old classmates, friends with whom I have not stayed in touch, and past acquaintances (the little old church ladies are the worst). After the initial salutations, people expect some sort of short synopsis of my life since graduating high school. I give the run-down: Blah blah, Ohio State, blah blah, Grad School, Hawaii, blah blah, archaeology. In turn, I inquire about his or her life because it’s the polite thing. The response almost invariably involves something along the lines of getting tied down and/or knocked up. Then the next move is ALWAYS asking me of my relationship status, at which point I want punch the person in the throat.**
Are you kidding me?! I just told you I study ARCHAEOLOGY in HAWAII. Fucking Hawaii! And the only thing you can come up with is “Have you found someone yet?” You couldn’t come up with any other question??! Hell, ask me about the fucking weather before interrogating me about my love life! Is that what makes a person truly interesting? Will I hold your attention longer if I had managed to pop out a few brats in the last few years? Why is my worth as person defined by my relationship status and not my achievements? Is my level of success less because I haven’t managed to “wrangle a man” yet?
 
The worst, and I mean absolutely worst, is when a person asks in earnest, “Why are you still single?”
Because I am a cold-hearted bitch with commitment issues?
What do you want to hear from me? I realize that this person is trying to pay me some sort of weird compliment by asking this, but it is a really backward way of doing so. I would much prefer if the conversation went something like, “Wow, you are supah cool and like smart and stuff. I wish I hadn’t been so hasty in my decision in pledging myself to my current partner. I would totes sex you up.” At least this way I am not left questioning my self worth.
Let’s think for a moment that I am perfectly happy with the way things are. Not content… Not settling… But happy….”Single and Happy?” Blaspheme! Truly this girl must be putting on some sort of brave facade as she pretends to embrace her lonely spinsterhood at 23. She is a creature that needs to be pitied. And hopefully, one day some poor sap will scoop her up and end her misery.
Fuck. That. Noise.
Sooo… We eventually say our goodbyes and I walk away seething. Then I remember that I don’t actually care what this person thinks, otherwise I would have stayed in contact with him or her. All is right in the world again. Cue: skipping off into the sunset.
Moral of the story: If you run into an old friend/acquaintance do not ask of their love life right off the bat unless they freely volunteer the information first. Surprise! People are way more than who they are attached to.
Also, I look forward to being a cantankerous cat-lady with a clowder of kittens (how is that alliteration for you?). I will be sitting poolside, sipping gin and tonics, and harassing some pretty young thing named Javier.

**Note: I have yet to actually punch a person in the throat for this offense.

Mele Kalikimaka, Mother F*ckers Dec. 14, 2010

Mele Kalikimaka, Mother F*ckers.

I LOVE CHRISTMAS. Everything about it. I love the lights. I love the trees. I love the food, the movies, the smells. I love giving presents, and I love receiving them. I especially love the music. I firmly believe that November 1st is the official start of winter tune season.
It’s the one time of the year, I don’t mind seeing snow. In fact, I almost like seeing a winter wonderland outside; provided, of course, I am not forced to be in it for anything other than play time. There is nothing that takes the merriment out of snow more than having to march through it on your way to class, work, or the bar. Or worse, having to smoke outside in the cold.
I am stoked to see my friends and family in Ohio for Christmas. I feel like I will finally get into the holiday spirit. There is something about palm trees and 80 degree weather that seems a little off. It’s my first year here. I am sure I will get used to having awesome weather for Christmas, but I have been pretty homesick.
Oh yeah. If anyone asks me why I would rather be in Ohio than Hawaii for Christmas, I will punch them in the face. Yes. I like the tropical weather, but I miss my friends and family. The End.

Maybe next year people can join me in Hawaii so they too can enjoy looking at displays like this one… And you know, not freeze to death.

Dear Glee... Nov. 11, 2010

Dear Glee…

We are breaking up. It’s not me. It’s you. You aren’t the same show I fell in love with.                                                                                                      Sincerely,                                                                                             Jenny
Yes. I enjoyed watching people who are waaaay to old to be high school students sing covers of pop songs…
Cue flashback:  It all started when I heard Brad Falchuk and Ryan Murphy were creating another show. I loved the early seasons of Nip/Tuck and even stuck around way after the show went sour. So I was actually excited to give this new show a try. I watched the early pre-season preview of the pilot and thought, “I can get into this.” After all, I grew up in Ohio, was somewhat socially awkward, and I sang in the Varsity Singers when I was in high school.
Not to mention the eye candy is quite yummy.
Then I forgot all about the show. It wasn’t until my friends started talking about it that I decided to give it another try. The DVD of the first half of the first season had just come out so I borrowed it from a friend. I was hooked. The writing was fairly entertaining. The humor was slightly dark at times and campy at others. I loved it. Besides who doesn’t love rock songs played as a Capella show tunes?
Cue downward spiral: I watched the second half of the season with fellow Gleeks and had to hide my disappointment with each and every new episode for fear of being maimed by the people who thought the “Power of Madonna” episode was actually good. The clever writing disappeared, and the show simply became What-Pop-Icon-Can-We-Suck-Up-To-Next.  Thanks to Joss Whedon and NPH, there was one great episode. Also they got rid of Jessalyn Gilsig who had one of the more interesting, albeit insane, characters.
This last episode, “Never Been Kissed,” might have turned me off for good. Not only was the music completely over-processed (I.e. “Teenage Dream”), but the plot was just… bad. The whole giant-neanderthal-bully-is-acting-out-his-frustration-because-he-is-actually-gay thing was way too cliche, and it overshadowed the one bright shining spot in the whole episode — Kurt’s blossoming romance (Damn my weakness for gay boys). I found the treatment of Bieste offensive and not funny. The whole character is just sad: a larger, masculine looking woman coaches football and she is really good at it, but has a dismal personal life. Oh and her name is Biest (pronounced like Beast)
Really?
I really want to know what the writers were thinking. “Oh! Let’s make fun of her appearance the whole episode, then we show everyone that uglies have feelings too. Let’s make her a super pathetic 40 year old who has never been kissed. Then we make the hot teacher give her a pity smooch.”
Yes, because that’s what every single person who has ever felt ugly or like an outcast wants. Fucking pity.
Why couldn’t she be happily married with a nice husband who loves her? Why can’t she be sleeping around, getting plenty of ass? Why can’t she have an awesome life doing whatever she wants? Why did they write her as this pathetic, sad character? For that matter, how come the only other overweight character is without a love interest? Being of amazonian size myself, I would like to see a bigger character get the love and attention she (or he) deserves— without pity.
So kids, the take home message is that if you are fat (therefore hideous) you will probably die alone, EVEN IF you are a GOOD person.  If you are lucky, a good-looking person might feel bad for you just enough to look past your gross exterior and at your sexy heart.

There's Always Someone Cooler Than You Oct. 29, 2010

There’s Always Someone Cooler Than You

I really thought I was over all the little  insecurities I felt when I was in high school. Back in the day, I always felt a little out of place talking to people who were prettier or more popular than me. It was like they just didn’t care what I was talking about. While at OSU, this problem became non-existent (because I was supa-cool). Now I’m in grad school, and BAM! here come my insecurities, rushing back  just after a few minutes of talking to some people in my cohort.
There is a definitely “cool/uncool” separation among the grad students (well as cool as any anthropology graduate student can get). Instead of being the calm, cool, and collected person I had evolved into as an undergrad, I turn into a babbling dork rambling about something from class trying to get the other kids to like me. I am rendered useless,  completely unable to form an interesting or intelligent sentence.
I only feel this way around people from the department. When I’m around non-anthropology people and I mention “archaeology,” I turn into something like this:
   
Or this

But around other anthropology grad students (especially the cultural kids),  I turn into some sort of mouth-breathing-dorky-lab-rat who lacks the social skills necessary to carry on a conversation and who ends up just trying too hard.

 OR maybe I am overreacting?

"Welcome To Hawaii" Oct. 25, 2010

“Welcome To Hawaii”

 In my lifetime, I have come in contact with several people who can’t help but talk with a condescending tone. It’s almost as if their idea of self-importance has so completely warped their sense of decency that they are unable to communicate in a polite manner. These people exist everywhere. I can’t really seem to escape them.  Lately there is this phrase that keeps popping up randomly in conversations that just irks me: “Welcome to Hawaii.”

Yes. I realize I have only been here two months, and there are a lot of social intricacies that I have yet to learn. But surprise! I do actually understand the way societies and cultures function. It’s not like I haven’t spent the last four years studying human cultures or anything. The best (and by “best” I mean “most fucking annoying”) part is that the people saying “Welcome to Hawaii” are not the people who have lived their whole lives here. In fact, most people who have said this to me have been here less than a year. Are you fucking serious? You are trying to tell ME about the way of life here when you yourself have not lived in Hawaii any longer than I have. Go fuck yourself.

Here is an example of a conversation I had with another new graduate. Please note that I am just trying to keep a dying conversation going by discussing a recent observation:

Me: The attitude towards marijuana on the island is very different from the Midwest. Back home, you would never see a student standing outside his dorm in the middle of the day smoking a bowl…(at this point I am interrupted by the other new graduate student)

Other Student: Welcome to Hawaii.

Me: … (I refuse to say any more because I am seething and close to ripping this other person’s face off.)

The simple fact that I am making a commentary on an observation means I am somewhat, if not, fully aware of my surroundings. AND if this person had let me finish my thought he or she would have realized that I had an interesting point and/or comparison to make.

This sort of thing happens all the time. I can be discussing the traffic, the weather, the politics, the sports, or ANYTHING and some other new person will tell me “Welcome to Hawaii” like he or she is some sort of island lifestyle expert.

Sometimes people say it even when I mention something related to Hawaii:

Me: Man, I hate riding TheBus (Remember, this is the name of Hawaii’s public transit service). I tend to get confused by bus routes, times, and stops. 

Other Person: Welcome to Hawaii.

Me: …

No. No! NO! Although I was talking about TheBus, I could have also said the same thing about COTA or any other bus service in the world. I was just expressing my distaste for public transportation in general.

Or how about the time I walked into a room soaking wet after getting caught in a quick rain.

Me: Hehehe… I got caught in the rain.

Other Person: Welcome to Hawaii.

Wow. Thank you. I did not realize that living in a tropical climate meant sporadic rain showers. After all, there hasn’t been some sort of precipitation every single day since I moved here. For the record, I have never been caught in a sudden rain shower anywhere outside of the island, especially not in Ohio during the summer. Quick showers are truly unique to Hawaii.

There is absolutely no reason to say this phrase to another person unless you are actually welcoming them to the island. Saying this phrase for any other reason is just obnoxious.

Fair Weather Fans: A Discussion Oct. 19, 2010

Fair Weather Fans: A Discussion

Now that I have had a few days between last Saturday and me, I feel it’s time to discuss a topic near and dear to my heart: Fair Weather Fans. There is some debate about the exact definition of the Fair Weather Fan because they often get lumped with Bandwagoners. You be the judge.
As I have mentioned before, October is a great month for sports; However, with great sports come the boo-birds, the pessimists, the trash talkers, the fair weather fans, and a plethora of other obnoxious spectators….

In case you were not aware, The Cincinnati Reds made it to the playoffs for the first time in fifteen years this season.

I will be the first to admit that baseball is one of my least favorite sports (to watch on tv), right after golf. Was I excited that Cincy was in the playoffs? Yes. Does this make me a Fair Weather Fan? (By some people’s standards) Yes. I lived in southern Ohio for 11 years (and central Ohio for the last 4 1/2 years). My family went to Reds games all the time when I was young. As I grew up my interest in other sports grew, and I simply did not have the time, energy, or motivation to set aside hours and hours to watch baseball. So yes, some may call me a Fair Weather Fan. The simple fact that I never jumped ship nor changed teams is not enough. There is really nothing I can do to change their mind. So fuck ‘em.
I guess I have a different definition of a Fair Weather Fan. AND I hate to say it, but a lot of my friends fall under this definition…
This past Saturday was a hard one for any Buckeye out there. There is nothing worse than hearing the chants of “Over-rated” from a bunch of fucking Badgers. Logging onto Facebook, I was most disappointed in status updates from fellow “Buckeyes.” Instead of being upset by the loss and crying into their beers (like moi), they were talking shit about the team they supposedly supported. Those people are the true Fair Weather Fans. Upsets happen. It sucks. It’s how you deal with it that makes you a real fan. Me? I found solace in a few shots of Jager and watching UH beat Nevada. Others cried (I did that too). Some douche-bag “fans” decided to trash their own team. I get it. Everyone expresses disappointment differently, but it pisses off the other supporters to hear that kind of talk right after a loss. So why don’t you take off that Number 2 jersey before you start ripping into Terrell…Oh, I’m sorry. I was distracted by the photo of you in a sweater vest. What were you saying about the inadequacies “Tresselball”?…
Just shut the fuck up or start following another team. We don’t want you.

On a slightly related note:
There are teams out there that just suck year after year. When you are a fan of those teams you wear the jersey with pride and hope for the best. When you lose, you shake it off and pray for a miracle. You don’t switch to a dynasty team just so you can watch a Championship game. Really? You follow the Yankees, The Steelers, The Lakers, AND the Red Wings? …Go fuck yourself.
I feel like the Browns fans (all Cleveland teams, in general) understand this the best of any group of fans out there. They understand their team sucks, yet every year they have visions of Super Bowls rings dancing in their heads. They have learned to deal with the shittiness of their team. They might even joke about their team, but will fight to the death defending them to any other fan. I respect the teams and the fans, even if I don’t particularly like them. *cough* Who Dey *cough*

Ah, Tailgating: America's True Pastime Oct. 15, 2010

Ah, Tailgating: America’s True Pastime

Today I received this email from the Vice Chancellor of Students. I have highlighted in bold print particularly interesting lines regarding proper drinking practices. I have also added proper translations.
Aloha Students, (In case you didn’t already know, we are in Hawaii) 

As you cheer on our Warrior football team this weekend (woo hoo!) at Aloha Stadium (Don’t forget, you are still in Hawaii), the Vice Chancellor for Students Office would like to remind you that we expect all students to follow the Student Conduct Code ( i.e. don’t get caught doing stupid stuff) while commuting to, tailgating and attending the event.  This includes complying with the Hawaii Underage Drinking Laws summarized on the following website: http://hawaii.gov/ltgov/drug-control/underage-drinking. 

Due to complaints of liquor law violations at Aloha Stadium, especially at tailgate party activities, these will be monitored by authorities including the Liquor Commission and appropriate enforcement actions may be taken.

The Manoa Alcohol Project (www.manoaalcoholproject.org) would like to offer you the following low-risk drinking tips:
1. It is illegal for anyone under the age of 21 to purchase, possess, or consume alcohol. (i.e. Don’t get caught)
2. If you are 21 or older, it is illegal to provide, sell to, or purchase alcohol for anyone under the age of 21.( i.e. DON’T GET  FUCKING CAUGHT)
3. If you are 21 or older and choose to drink:
• Pace and space your drinks by sipping slowly and keeping it to 1 drink per hour (Nurse that motherfucker until it gets so gross and warm you never want to finish it, OR you can bong every beer you come in contact with)
• Stay hydrated by having a non-alcohol drink such as water, soda or juice before having another drink containing alcohol. (One shot of 151 in said non-alcoholic drink won’t hurt because you are staying hydrated)
• Eat before, during, and after consuming alcohol.
• Plan a safe ride home before you start drinking (Make sure the DD stops shotgunning Icehouses by 3rd quarter).
• Count and measure your drinks (Keep a running tally to prove how awesome you are at drinking).
• Follow the medically recommended alcohol consumption limits of:
• Men = Never more than 4 drinks (Stop at 4 drinks if want everyone to think you are a pussy)
• Women = Never more than 3 drinks (Stop at 3 mixed/malted beverages because you will get sick. Switch to beer. It tastes like water at this point anyway)
• Know how to say “No” when offered a drink you don’t want. ( How do you make that drink? I have never heard of it)

We appreciate your individual contribution to our community’s safety while attending this UHM-sponsored event.  (DON’T GET CAUGHT!!!)

GO WARRIORS!!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T Oct. 14, 2010

R-E-S-P-E-C-T… Find Out What It Means To Me.

 **This Just In/Breaking News**
I finally have a “horrible roommate” story to tell people!

In the past couple of years, I have been very lucky in the roomie department. Even when I was randomly assigned roommates during freshman year, I met two really great girls (and one meh). In fact, when trading “horrible roommate” stories I often embellished them to make the Meh Girl seem worse (shocking I know). BUT FINALLY after five years of living away from my parents, I have one of the worst stories you could ever possibly have. It’s like in the Top Five Worst Roommates after: murderers, thieves, drug addicts, and Furries. Just what did this girl do that places her close to Furries, you ask? I will tell you..
This vile sub-human violated the sanctity of MY bed and baby blanket, “ME-ME Blankie,” by FUCKING SOME RANDOM DUDE ON IT!!!
GROSS…
But it’s not JUST gross, it’s horribly disrespectful to me and my property. She invaded my personal sleeping space and contaminated everything with her slattern musk. The part I can’t get past is how my ME-ME Blankie was profaned. That blanket was knitted by my grandmother. It’s soft and fuzzy. It reminds me of my youth, my home, and my family; then that tramp desecrated it.  Her actions show that she has absolutely no respect for me or my stuff. I just can’t deal with that sort of trash.
Would you like to know what I was doing while the strumpet was spreading her herpes all over my baby blanket and Columbus Crew afghan? I was trying to write a paper (since it was a Sunday night after all) and make sure HER unconscious friend would not choke and die on his own vomit. After I finally got him on his stomach and checked that he was breathing normally, I thought it would be safe to quickly grab my computer so I could write and keep an eye on the drunk kid. After I walked in the room, I was met by the sound of grunting and a flurry of naked limbs on MY bed. I got my laptop and got the fuck out of there. I wish I had Lysol at that exact moment since my poor computer was within three feet of the STD-ridden-cum-bucket. The next morning she tried to hide her smile as she “apologized” for the random act of sluttiness because she was “so drunk.” (I have been “so drunk” before too, but I managed not to be a completely disrespectful whore) Throughout this whole “apology” she had MY fleece blanket that MY mother gave ME wrapped around her fucking waist (I might have to burn it).
An ironic little twist to this lovely story is that she is from New Jersey and is constantly saying how she is nothing like the folks on “Jersey Shore.” According to her, the show is perpetuating (I’m paraphrasing because I don’t think she could use the word “perpetuate” in a sentence) an unfounded stereotype.  Yeah…OK…

Needless to say, I will be transferring out of that whorehouse as soon as possible. This was the final straw. Basically it was just the turd-icing on the shit cake I have had to put up with since moving in. I have been getting EXTREMELY sick and tired of: her moving my stuff (so sorry I left a couple silly bandz on the shelf in the bathroom next to my shampoo), constantly making passive-aggressive comments about my study/eating/working-out habits, being a selfish person who only thinks of/ talks about herself (if I have to listen to one more story about how people in NJ don’t pump their own gas, I might shoot myself), listening to shitty music/ liking shitty movies (FACT 1: “Crazy Bitch” was never and will never be a good song…ever Fact 2: Transformers 2 is HORRIBLE. Just plain horrible), not doing her dishes when she said she would, bringing random guys over all the time(it’s not necessary to get a number EVERY SINGLE TIME you go out to the bar) and just being plain obnoxious. I don’t like her as a person. I would have never talked to her in the first place, if I wasn’t forced to live with her. I normally don’t associate with sorostitutes who can only talk about their “glory days” in their whorority. Great, I am really glad to hear about how you earned your Greek letters by blowing eight dudes in one night.
I don’t feel like I am over-reacting. I haven’t been truly happy since moving in with that self-absorbed, disrespectful slut.
Hopefully I will be out of there sooner than later. Until then, does anyone know where I can get a full-body condom?

Skateboards and Mopeds and Bikes, Oh My! Oct. 13, 2010

Skateboards and Mopeds and Bikes, Oh My!

Ah, the trials and tribulations of being a pedestrian. Everyone has their own reasons for walking around cities. It’s eco-friendly! It’s good exercise! It’s economical (aka you’re too broke to buy a car)! I’ve noticed a lot less people (around campus) drive cars. After all,  it doesn’t make too much sense considering the public transit system is fairly reliable and the island itself is not that big; It is only 597 sq. miles while Franklin County in Ohio is 543 sq. miles!
You think this place would be a pedestrian paradise, instead it’s more like running the gauntlet. Hawaii has one the highest pedestrian death rates in the United States. Crossing the street at a crosswalk on campus should really become an Olympic sport. You know how they (Barney and Friends) suggest before crossing the street you should “look left, right then left again before crossing”? Well in Hawaii, it’s more like “look left, right, left, let three cars run the red light THEN quickly dash across the street before the red hand appears.” There are signs everywhere that say “No Right on Red,” but I have yet to see a single driver abide by this rule.  Back in Ohio, I was a jaywalking-professional like so many other students. No crosswalk? No problem! Let’s just cross directly in front of the UDF, since the closest light is all the way over there next to the CVS, like a full block away… In Hawaii, I don’t even attempt to cross the street unless I am in the designated spot and the signs clearly indicate I should walk.

Crossing the street and bad drivers aren’t the only obstacles for pedestrians. When walking along the sidewalk you have to be on a constant lookout for bikes, skateboards, and even FUCKING mopeds. I was kind of used to bikes on pathways and sidewalks. Columbus only recently started posting “Share the Road” signs, so a lot of cyclists used the sidewalks instead of risking death by vehicle. So the bikes on the sidewalk don’t really bother me as much considering the horrible drivers on the streets. But I was not expecting to be run-down by skateboarders or FUCKING mopeds drivers. Seriously, who drives a moped on the sidewalk? A lot of people that’s who. There are more mopeds around campus than cars. I just don’t understand why they are on the sidewalks. That’s why there are roads! But the skateboarders are the most obnoxious. One in five people* skateboard to class, and only half of those people actually possess the necessary skills to not fall off or run into crowds of people. Most are just kids who think they look cool. A lot of times they slowly skate side-by-side with a pedestrian friend/cute girl, taking up the ENTIRE SIDEWALK. So the other pedestrians are forced to move out of the way (possibly into oncoming traffic) for these people. Back in Ohio, whenever I saw a skateboarder I (and everyone else) automatically thought “Douche.” Here it’s almost NORMAL to skate to class. I have to keep my ipod at a lower volume, so I can listen for the tell-tale rolling thunder creeping up from behind. At least once every couple of days I have had to jump of the sidewalk to avoid getting hit by an errant skateboarder who lost control going downhill. IF YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO SKATE, DON’T SKATE AROUND A CROWDED CAMPUS!
All in all, being a pedestrian around University of Hawaii sucks. You can get hit by a car crossing the street or get taken out by a number of other wheeled vehicles on the sidewalk.
Good thing I shipped my bicycle over. I might snap and start taking out some skateboarders.

* 83% of all statistics are made up

Hawaiians Don't Make Good Cat-Burglars: Part I Oct. 10, 2010

Hawaiians Don’t Make Good Cat-Burglars: Part I

I really should just change the name of this blog to “Making Generalizations About Groups of People Based on Subjective Observations of a Few Interactions.” I am an anthropologist after all. But that is a mouthful to say, and isn’t nearly as catchy as “Buckeye Warrior.” So here goes:
Hawaiians* Don’t Make Good Cat-Burglars: Part I
Ever notice when people wear flip-flops/thongs/sandals/slippas simply by the cadence of “flippity-flap” as the footwear hits their foot and pavement? Obnoxious, right? Unfortunately, it’s an almost unavoidable sound in the warmer months. People want to feel the breeze on their toes and be comfortable when they aren’t working. I completely understand. However, I don’t understand why people buy sandals that are ill-fitting or made of cheap/hard materials. How can they walk around without annoying themselves? Since it’s warm all year in Hawaii, flip-flops/thongs/sandals/slippas are a necessity. It seems like most people are just deaf to the sounds their feet make as they walk along.  Which brings us to the topic of this entry: Hawaiians don’t make good cat-burglars because you can hear them from a fucking mile away. Good luck trying to creep around or make a sneaky get away with noisy footwear. Also, I don’t remember Selina Kyle or Felicia Hardy ever wearing flip-flops.
Flip-flops are not the only problem. You can still hear people walking around wearing regular shoes because so many people don’t pick up their heels when they walk. I am not expecting people to high-step around or anything, but it just seems like everybody is just too fucking laid-back to pick their feet more than half an inch off the ground. When you add cheap sandals to the mix you have an entire percussion section of noisy pedestrians. Every other person sounds like drunken sorositute making a walk of shame at 5 in the morning wearing broken heels slurring the click-clack cadence as she stumbles home….  Very bad for business, especially if your business requires any type of stealthy movements.

*And by Hawaiians, I mean all people living in Hawaii. Not a particular race or ethnicity.

Gotta Love October Oct. 9, 2010

Gotta Love October…

I was going to write an awesome post about how Hawaiians could never make good cat-burglars; however, college football was much too exciting for me to focus. Jim Tressel won his 100th game. M*ch*g*n lost to MSU. ‘Bama lost to South Carolina (Cock-a-doodle-doo!!!). Auburn almost lost to KY. Florida lost/ everyone got to see what a douche-bag Les Miles actually is (that play was shady). All in all, a great day. Totally made up for yesterday’s losses (CBJs, Crew, Reds). I will end this short post with a lovely photo:
.

Oct. 5, 2010

Apparently, I have readers now?
This was taken from my window in my bedroom. Suck it, bitches.

Hawaiian Commercials: Good Advertising or Great Advertising Oct. 4, 2010

Hawaiian Commercials: Good Advertising or Great Advertising?

I feel like I have been a little hard on Hawaii lately, so I have decided to write about something Hawaii excels in: ADVERTISEMENTS. I mean it’s not a popular destination by accident (of course the beautiful weather, awesome beaches, great hiking etc doesn’t hurt). Who hasn’t seen a commercial for Hawaii and thought, “Wow. I am going to move to Hawaii.” ? Or something to that effect…The truth of the matter is that Hawaii knows how to market itself like a well-trained professional athlete (or a well-trained whore).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kudh6aIxnis (I guess every college has these come hither commercials
So you saw the advertisements, and you moved to Hawaii. It’s every thing you dreamed of: Palm trees, sandy beaches, weather that stays perpetually at 80 degrees, and a nice ocean breeze. You have been laying out in the sun for a while, and you decide to go inside and veg in front of the TV. After all, living the island life can be quite draining. What kind of commercials can they offer now that you are here?  AWESOME ONES. Local advertisements are the best. Whether it’s a jingle on the radio, a political ad, an anti-meth poster, or a local business commercial, the advertisements are a notch above those on the mainland (Well at least Ohio). I can’t even think of one memorable jingle from a central Ohio business, and I lived there for five years. (However, I do know “that the ‘T’ in Turnpike means truck — Yes, the ‘T’ in Turnpike means truck”) Yet I can hum three Hawaiian jingles any time, any day.  Why is that? Because Hawaiian advertisers know what the people want.
Some are motivational:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hq1w2KHmdsk  God, I love this song. I sing it in the shower from time to time.
But most are hilarious. Unfortunately, there are very few out there in cyberspace. So I can’t really share the good ones with you. BUT the best part about commercials in Hawaii is the diversity. Back home, I never really connected with all the blond-haired-blue-eyed women they paraded around in the Ohio commercials. Out here they tend to throw a little more  flava into the mix rather saturating the media with some white-bread would-be actors. There are Pacific Islanders, Asians, white folk, and (my personal favorite) the ethnically-ambiguous ones. Also they don’t use stick thin, anorexic looking girls. Some of these girls are corn-fed, fo sho (or perhaps taro fed?). They look healthy and happy. Which, in turn, makes me feel happy and more likely to buy whatever they are peddling.
I really wish I could find TheCab commercial (422 2222) or the Windward Dodge Chrysler Jeep jingle. Alas. I will have to settle for a random Zippy’s commercial which is totes not even funny in comparison to some that I have seen out here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wz8z8a6cZ2A

A College Football Post Oct. 3, 2010

A College Football Post

To say that I “like” college football is an understatement to say the least. I LOVE it. There is just something so perfect about college football that other (professional) sports just seem to lack. They play because they love the game and have pride in their school.
Seriously there is absolutely nothing better than Saturdays in the fall in Columbus. I love waking up early, hopping in the shower, and cracking that first beer of the morning. Making eggs/ grilling out while a “Game Day” play list is pumping through the speakers. Adding layer upon layer of scarlet and gray clothing as the season progresses. Making that walk to the stadium with other scarlet and gray clad fans cheering was we go. Losing my shit when that sousaphone player dots Script Ohio.  Jumping into Mirror Lake while screaming at the top of my frozen lungs, “Fuck M!ch*g@n!” Singing Carmen Ohio. Going crazy after every first down. Standing up on the third downs. Yelling obscenities at the refs. Participating in the call-and-response of OH-IO.  Hearing the victory bell at the end of games. I love it all.

It’s the time of year that my tv doesn’t stray far from ESPN. After all, I need to know what those bastards are saying this time about my beloved Buckeyes. I’m talking to you, Lee. I love to watch upsets and cheer on fellow Big Ten teams (when we aren’t playing them, of course).
When I moved to Hawaii, I was super excited to be a Warrior. Hawaii has a good little thing going on in the WAC. I was told this was a “big football school.” Naturally, I was excited to be surrounded by people I can talk sports with. Maybe I have been talking to the wrong people, but it seems like no one I talk to is passionate about anything out here. I would take a Wolverine or a Gator right now, because then I would have a good argument. People just seem indifferent about sports, in general.
I have yet to make it to game, so I cannot accurately comment on the tailgating situation. I am prepared to be disappointed. I think UH’s problem is that the stadium is several miles away from campus and the downtown area. That means no corn hole in the yard. No beer pong on the porches. There is no mass movement of daydrinkers to the stadium. It’s a bunch of people getting in cars and buses and tailgating in the parking lot. It completely separates the school from the   atmosphere. At OSU if you are on or around campus you can’t escape football in the fall. It’s everywhere, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Getting to Know You. Getting to Know All About You. Oct. 2, 2010

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you…

I may be beating this dead horse, but things are a little different from my undergrad days in Columbus. Maybe it’s because I surrounded myself with people I actually liked. Maybe it’s a mid-west thing. I can’t explain it, but I seem to be sticking my foot in my mouth a lot lately. It seems like every time I make a comment about some stupid pop culture icon, I get the death stare:
Me: Oh man, another Katherine Heigl movie? Gee, I can’t wait to find out what happens in this one. Do you think she is going to end up falling in love with the male lead in this sure-to-be-cinematic-masterpiece like the rest of her amazing movies?

Other Person: I love Katherine Heigl. She is such an amazing actress. <— Seriously not being sarcastic.
Me: (FUCKSOCKS) I mean …erm.. I thought Knocked Up was entertaining…. (Insert foot in mouth)
See what I mean? I can’t even complain about Top 40 pop songs lacking creativity and musicality without hurting some one’s fucking feelings. How am I supposed to survive? I tried holding it in, but I swear to god if I hear one more fucking Rihanna or Nickelback song I am going to explode into a fiery ball of rage…
Is this what it feels like to be a hipster? Oh God. What have I become?! Am I going to start growing ironic facial hair, wear scarves and hats that hang off my head?
I mean I used to judge people by their music and movie tastes for fun (you know, socially, like at parties and things), but now I can’t stop. As soon as someone tells me they like (insert random singer/band) I instantly form a not-so-nice opinion about them.
Ke$ha- Dumb Slut
Kanye- Douche-bag
Any band on an Apple commercial: Pretentious asshole
Back in the day, my friends and I could make fun of Twilight for hours. Now without my core of friends, I sound like a whining sack of bullshit. Or perhaps I am truly a bitch?… nah that can’t be right.

To Be or Not to Be PC Sept. 29, 2010

To Be or Not To Be PC

Let’s get one thing straight. I am hilarious.  Well at least, I find myself pretty fucking funny sometimes. For the most part, I think other people around me find the shit I say somewhat humorous on occasion. That is until I moved out to Hawaii…
Being a new kid, I didn’t want to offend people right off the bat. So I kept a lot of my less PC (albeit wittier) comments to myself. Gotta toe that line right? After being here for a couple of weeks,  I felt a little more comfortable. Big mistake. After trying out a little story that would normally result in some sort of guffaw (or slight smirk) from my friends from back home, I was met with a blank stare.
There are a few possible reasons as to why my little anecedote didn’t go ever so well:
1) I have mastered the art of disguising my sarcasm/satire to the point that other people think I am being real. It’s possible that my satirical tone has morphed to completely mimic my normal speech inflections and tone. My bad. I guess I have to work on being more obvious while still veiling my true meaning.
2)The sarcasm was there, but the person doesn’t get satirical/facetious type of humor. The type of person who likes slapstick over dry humor. The kind of person who thinks The Hangover is God’s gift to comedy.
3) The person understood that I was not being serious, but just didn’t think I was funny. <— (least likely of the options, because as I said before: I am hilarious.)
We are going to go with reason number 2. It’s obviously the other person, and not moi.
With that being said, it’s going to be a long ass year. I really don’t how I am going to survive, if I have to preface every single midget/ginger/ random pop culture whore/wheelie/meth/child slavery etc joke with “I am about to say something I don’t actually believe or endorse. Please don’t think I am being serious”
For your amusement, here is that little interaction that warranted only a blank stare from my new friend:
Picture it: September 2010. The place: TheBus (Hawaii’s public transit name. How dumb is that) after a long day in the sun. There is a sign that says “No shoes or slippaz on the seats. Mahalo” I take a picture and send to my friend in Ohio who will be referred to as “C.” The text conversation went something like this.
Me: Silly Hawaiians, they are called sandals. *
C: Those natives are making up words again? *
Me: Umm they are not called natives anymore. I think we are supposed to call them “Noble Savages.” *
C: They are only “Noble” after they have given us their land and died from European diseases.*


Then I told my new friend about this little conversation between C and me (mainly because I wanted her to know why I was giggling like a 12year old on a Pixie-stick and Mountain Dew diet). My new friend just looked at me with disgust, and said nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. So instead of hanging my head in shame, I tried to salvage the story by using my go-to over-explanation method (a genuine crowd-pleaser to be sure).
Me: You see, it’s funny because I’m an anthropologist. I am supposed to be sympathetic to indigenous people. And my friend has syphilis and a host of other European diseases**…. And it’s more funny now because I am over-explaining the joke, which is never funny under normal circumstances except when you are aware of it and make a conscious effort to be obnoxious about it. See? It’s funny…erm..ok….. I guess you had to be there….
See? Comedy gold! Now this person probably thinks I am some sort of racist- insensitive-asshole-who-doesn’t-know-that-having-to-explain-a-joke-makes-it-less-funny. Fuck.
*Paraphrasing since I no longer have the original text conversation due to a full inbox, but you get the idea
**Not true…. that I know of.

Paradise: Not Where the Heart Is. Sept. 8, 2010

Paradise: Not where the heart is.

I know I am living in paradise. I know I am learning exactly what I want to learn. I know this is what I wanted for the last few years. I made the choice to come out here, but I can’t help but second guess my decision to come make this trek. I know it all stems from being homesick. I haven’t even been here a whole month, and I can’t stop thinking about all things I have missed and will continue to miss until December: Friends, family, football games, birthdays, nights at the Library, watching Disney with my best friends, puppies…
Don’t get me wrong. I do like it here. I can see myself settling out here in the middle of the pacific ocean in the future. It’s just whenever I am by myself, my mind starts to wander back to Ohio. Hopefully I will find my niche soon and this heartache won’t be so intense.

Buckeyes And Warriors Sept. 2, 2010

Buckeyes and Warriors

Like a child waiting for Santa, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. I am much too excited. Thursday is a huge day. It’s the beginning of college football season. My beloved Buckeyes take on one of my favorite teams, The Thundering Herd. Growing up so close to Marshall, I went to so many Herd games as a child. However, Columbus is where my heart is. Don’t get me wrong now. I love watching Marshall play, and I wish them the best every season. And it’s just so cute how Marshall fans think they can take on THE Ohio State University. I really truly hope the boys in green play well, but I want to see the Buckeyes crush them all the way back to their adorable little conference.
Another reason why I am so excited is that Thursday is the first UH Warrior game AGAINST USC! I am pretty pumped that this a football school that knows how to tailgate. I hear they can throwdown with the best of them (of course nothing beats Columbus on a Saturday in the fall). Also I just really want to see USC bite it.

This is going to be a good year. I can feel it in my bones. I can’t wait to cheer on my Buckeyes (and my new team the Warriors) all season.
I am going to miss those crisp fall days when the whole city turns scarlet and gray. though.

M*ch*g*n Still Sucks.

Aug 28, 2010

Instead of doing homework, my roommate and I went to Waikiki… good choice or great choice?

Island Paradise or Inefficient System Aug. 22, 2010

Island Paradise or Inefficient System

Lately I have found myself getting really really REALLY frustrated with the UH bureaucratic system. They are quite inefficient and they seem to wait until the last moment to send important information. They tend to use snail mail for important document that could easily be put into pdf. They send emails the day before something is due. Here are just two personal examples of the inefficiencies in the system. TB tests. Apparently they were required before registering. I had no knowledge of this before I jumped on a plane and flew across the ocean. It is very possible that the information was slipped in on some email that I overlooked. Or I thought it was junk. Or I just didn’t receive it. The fact of the matter is that I have to wait several more days until I can register so I can get the test and the results read. If they had sent an email with the subject saying something like “IMPORTANT  PLEASE READ” I definitely would not have missed it. After all, I have never missed a deadline on anything IN MY LIFE. I am the kind of person who promptly responds and takes care of my shit. I worked in place for almost 2 years that did TB tests. I could have got one for free (or at least discounted)… But then I look out my window, feel the breeze, take a breath, and remember that I am in Hawaii and things seem to work themselves out. The other example is one involving shipping stuff. I didn’t feel the effects of this one as badly as the TB test debacle. We were told before moving to not ship anything before the dorms were open. This makes perfect sense. When we all show to check-in we had to sign a paper stating that we understood that the office (of the dorms) will not be signing for any packages other than United States Postal Service. That would have been fine except there was absolutely no mention of this before. Some people had there stuff perfectly timed so that UPS or FedEx would be there the day we moved in. Those people are pretty much fucked. They have to call their respective carriers and find some way to get their stuff. Basically sit around all day waiting for the truck, all because the housing office doesn’t want to sign for the packages. Luckily I had waited to ship my shit, and with one quick text was able to avoid certain disaster. See that. One text and I was to send important information to the people who needed it. Why can’t Hawaii do that? With the technology out there people can receive up to date information almost instantly. I have been trying really hard not to compare UH to OSU, but OSU has their game down pat. They can move in nine thousand people in one day. All incoming students were properly informed about what is expected from them. This school can alert 50,000 people that there is a snow day. Why can’t Hawaii adopt some of these practices? They have the technology. I think it’s because the people running the system lack a sense of urgency that is necessary to properly run a school. Maybe it’s an island vs midwest thing. Maybe it’s an isolated problem. Maybe I have reached a point in my life where I am just slipping up. Whatever it is, it’s something I am going to have to deal with and fix. So on my many walks around campus to fix these foul-ups, all I have to do is look at the palm tree growing in front of the classrooms and relax. I am in Hawaii, bitch.

My Hawaiian Migration: An Introduction Aug. 21, 2010

My Hawaiian Migration: An Introduction

Go Bucks! I know what you are thinking. “Great, this is just what the interwebs need: another blog about the mundane daily activities or the boring ramblings of some semi-anonymous person.” That’s right. I am helping to add to the clutter of useless junk floating around out there. Deal with it. I have always been one to follow the ridiculous Internet fads. I had a Xanga, Myspace, and Livejournal. I still tweet and keep my Facebook regularly updated with new pictures and posts. And now it’s time to keep people updated on my life via tumblr. Because Facebook, Twitter, Skyping, texting, plain ol’ calling, or email is simply not enough. I need to make sure anyone who ever knew me, and the many who never will know me know exactly how I feel about every possible subject ranging from music to politics to college football (Go Bucks! Go Warriors!). At least for the first time in my life, I feel I have something slightly interesting to contribute. For instance being a college graduate I am so much more worldly than my Xanga days. More importantly I picked up and moved from my own private corner of Heaven (Columbus and The Ohio State Campus) to a tropical island paradise. So this blog will be about the trials and tribulations of a poor graduate student who has been transplanted to the most beautiful place in the world.

Note: This is a picture I took on the Big Island. Currently I am attending school at University of Hawaii Manoa on Oahu. Big difference.