It’s spring break, and I just don’t think I need to think anymore. Pretty lazy pondering, huh? Yeah, but what are you going to do? Seriously though, I noticed tonight that what I’m reading influences how much thinking I’m doing. Whenever I’m doing some leisure reading I find that I think a lot more. When it comes time to sit down in front of the computer and pound out a thought for the day, I have a lot more to say when I’ve been doing some leisure reading. It’s probably pretty obvious, but I haven’t been doing too much leisure reading the past few days.
Marketing Characters
I never realized before how seriously companies take advertising. I was just reading an article about characters that sell products, like The Pillsbury Doughboy, the Trix Rabbit, Ronald McDonald and the like. Companies actually have books full of rules explicitly laying out what these characters can and can’t do. It’s really kind of frightening. They actually think about things like where the Lucky Charms leprechaun, Lucky, can be seen (only in the forest), and that a shot of the Doughboy from behind wouldn’t be very flattering. Somebody actually gets paid to determine what these stupid characters do. Most of these characters follow strict guidelines where the characters are almost always perfect. I think the best part is how these characters are failing. Think of the best character spokespersons. Who’s the best? The M&M guys? I think they’d get my vote. The ad agency doing the M&M ads decided to give the candies a little spunk. They bucked the trend and came up with enjoyable commercials. Now if someone could just do that for all those goofball characters selling cereal, we’d be set.
Quelling the Native Americans
Usually in my Art History class I sit there for an hour and ten minutes and furiously take down five pages of notes, complete with little scribblings of the day’s slides. I usually leave the class with a blur of images and a few thoughts about the American sensibility, whatever that is. Today was different. We were talking about Native American art forms, and how the Native Americans were treated. My professor read a number laws and accounts of how the government dealt with the Native Americans. The idea was basically to outlaw their way of life so they would be forced to conform to our culture and our society. The government attempted to civilize the “savages.”
What I found horribly ironic is what America stands for and why many Europeans came here in the first place. They were fleeing religious persecution. Yet we still outlawed the religion of the Native Americans. My sense of justice and trust in the three branch system of American government has been violated. Doesn’t it seem like somewhere along the line somebody should wave a red flag when the first amendment is being violated? Perhaps I’m being a little naïve.
What really struck me is Mt. Rushmore. Four enormous heads are carved into a mountain side. The heads of four white leaders who helped found and establish this great country. Mt. Rushmore is near Rapid City in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Someone in my class mentioned that the Black Hills were sacred burial grounds for the Native Americans. We rip up the earth and gut a mountain to pay homage to our heroes, a glaring reminder to the Native American–on their own sacred land, no less–that we conquered them. I’ve always thought Mt. Rushmore was an odd attraction. Perhaps it’s just an arrogant symbol of American pride.
Trying
I’m beginning to learn how hard it is to create something. I’m working on a few projects for my graphic design class, and I keep running into difficulties. Maybe it’s just that I don’t have all the tools the professionals have, but this is really hard. I have all these images in my head of what I want, but getting what I want is a completely different matter. That’s assuming I know what I want. Coming up with the ideas is even harder. What really gets me is that when I finally produce something really good, it wasn’t something I thought long and hard over, it was a lark. It was just something I tried on a whim between two real ideas.
Poignant
Write something poignant and go to bed. It sounds so easy, doesn’t it?
What Is Man?
What is man that you are mindful of him? We push on behind our layers of reality, behind our safe layers of civilization. Our rules, our laws that protect us from ourselves. We draw the cord tighter in an attempt to keep it all together, and we come that much closer to bursting at the seams. And out would flow a dreadful mess for you and me. Deep down what remains of a man? You back him into a corner and what will he do? You strip away his livelihood, his possessions, his family, his laws, his rules; what does he have left? His morals? Or do those slip away with everything else? Bad things happen and am I supposed to believe that was by divine orchestration? There is a certain darkness clouding men’s hearts, and it clouds the world as well. We like to hide behind our pretty ads, our clean clothes, our sweet smelling perfume, our new cars, our beautiful civilization. But something primal dwells deep within. Something so horrible that we don’t want to admit that it’s there. But it is there. Only the hollow men, the stuffed men push on and try to ignore it. They proceed not with a bang, but a whimper, and all goes so quietly into that good night. But they don’t understand. They’ve fallen asleep in class, again. They don’t understand the horror, the horror. And they don’t understand that the end has begun–there is a hope, it springs eternal, and it’s not finished yet. It doesn’t have to end with a whimper.
Just That Much of a Wuss
Have you ever noticed how physical, bodily experiences can so easily consume your thoughts? I suppose it’s kind of obvious, but it struck me this morning. I’ve been sick with a cough for the past several days. Today it was being especially obnoxious during church–I felt like I was interrupting the sermon every time I turned and coughed into my elbow. But I found I could barely concentrate on the message. It was something about prayer, and that’s all I remember. I could tell you a few illustrations, and I know he pulled a few verses out of Isaiah, but I wasn’t following him at all. My mind was preoccupied with my physical discomfort, and I couldn’t think about anything else. I find that kind of interesting. It really makes me wonder how people can endure torture. I also can’t help but wonder if it means I’m just that much of a wuss.
Coughing
You wake up coughing and go to bed coughing. It’s been one of those days. Although I suppose it’s not as bad as it sounds. The in between wasn’t that bad. It’s just the morning and evening when this cough likes to attack and drive me nuts. Although it sets the tone for quite a lazy day. When you get out of bed only because you’re coughing too much to fall back asleep you really don’t feel like doing much. But the energy did come and the cough did subside. One week until spring break. Not even. Five days of school. Sometimes you just need a break. You’ve stretched yourself far enough and stretching yourself much farther is possible–just not very healthy.
Discontented Jeans
That’s it. I’ve had it. I’m not putting up with it anymore. I came to a point today where I realized I am completely discontent with my jeans. That’s right, denim pants. I’m fed up with mine. Maybe it’s just the static in the air that’s making the material suction to my already skinny legs. Or maybe I’m actually getting bigger. I don’t know what it is, but something is causing me to be completely dissatisfied with my jeans. I’m not sure what it is, but they just don’t fit right. I walk around feeling self conscious like I’m stuck inside some 80’s music video where everyone’s wearing tight pants and t-shirts with no sleeves.
Sometimes I need to work my jeans in a little bit. They come out of the wash a little too stiff and that first day is a little uncomfortable. But by the second day they’ve loosened up and feel fine. That hasn’t worked lately. The second day is just as bad as the first, and at that point I’ve given up by the third day.
Not only do my jeans not fit right, they’re just not as cool as everyone else’s. Maybe I just don’t buy my jeans at the right store. Maybe I shouldn’t let my mother buy them anymore. Everyone else’s jeans are torn and ragged in just the right spots. I wonder if they do that on purpose or if they wear like that. Everyone else’s jeans are the right color, the right fit, and have just the right amount of grunge. The closest I have to grunge is my most comfortable pair of jeans. I had to resort to them today. They used to be very grunge. A ragged whole in each knee–air conditioning. But the holes kept getting bigger and they had to be patched. Which launches my fashion far beyond the grunge and into the patched realm–which isn’t anything cool and original. I stole the idea from my fiance (she was the one who patched them).
It’s my jeans-dilemma, and frankly I’m tired of it. I’ve decided I’m heading to the closest thrift shop and buying cheap jeans that fit. So why is this worthy of my daily thoughts? I don’t know, I’m too fed up with my jeans to worry about it. You can draw your own connection between my discontentment with my jeans and the state of our society.
Naptime
Ever have one of those days where it seems like the best thing to do is take a nap? Today was one of those days. So I’m not too sure what I’m sitting down to tell you tonight. Take a nap, maybe that’s it. Sometimes we could all use a nap, even if we’re not in preschool anymore. It’s kind of fun how similar college and preschool or elementary school are. Simple things never cease to please, you enjoy TV shows no one else understands, and a nap is more a necessity than a luxury.