Look at This Stuff

I wrote this piece for my school's literary magazine this spring. It made it in; and it has gotten pretty good reception from my family, so I thought I'd post it here.
In some senses it is a response to Don DeLillo's Underworld, which I recently finished reading.
Criticism is always encouraged.

I am the culmination of media outlets and marketing ploys.

A yellow ball bounces across the words, keeping me on track so I can sing-along. “Look at this stuff; isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl—the girl who has everything?”

A whining reminder that I will be the only kid in school that doesn’t have an Easy Bake Oven. I need one, or I won’t be able to make friend. I need one. Mommy, I need one.

A desperate cry to fight against the mainstream conglomeration of pop music and MTV force-fed musical selections. I choose from this stream of marketing a white rapper who knows what I hate. Who hates me and reminds me of this while he screams curse words at me through a pair of old headphones. I memorize all of the words. He understands me. We’ve all got skeletons in our closet and we’re cleaning them out.

A magazine that shows me pictures of stick figure teens, giving one out of 184 pages to a black, an Asian and a plus sized model. A reminder that the eye shadow shade is blue for the spring. A reminder that I am not like the other girls: that something could be wrong with me.

A wardrobe making me a walking advertisement for the clothing I’m wearing. An eagle, a moose, an alligator, a monkey. I am defined by these stupid logos and words that have only the empty meaning of a brand name. Airmail. Last Name & Last Name. United States Bird.

A room that is mine. A mosaic of posters and moments I deem significant. A picture of Andy Roddick. A poster of Pirates of the Caribbean. A sunset. Did I take the picture? Does it matter? Moments stuck in time to be remembered, relived, redefined, reassessed. I live a life in repeat. I look upon the past at every moment because it stares me in the face. It will not shut up. It will never silence. The pictures always stare at me, and I am supposed to cherish them.

An obsessive refreshing. Check the Facebook. Did anyone like my pictures? Has anyone commented? Worth found through characters on a page in a server somewhere in Phoenix, or San Francisco or small town Wisconsin. A two thousand dollar metal box that reminds me that I have friends, or that I don’t have friends. A box that “opens the world” to me. A box that slowly but surely steals my soul if I let it.

A judgement passed based on physical appearance, belongings and income. Hairstyle assessed. Clothing assessed. Shoes assessed. Possessions assessed. Five seconds have passed. A judgement has been made.

Stuff. We are just stuff made of more stuff, a composite of shit we buy and sell, and deem valuable based on a slip of paper that no longer represents the gold it is supposed to. We are the hollow men. We are the stuffed men. And we are stuffed with shit that doesn’t matter unless we make it matter. Or do we make it matter because it does matter? Could it be that I am just a stuffed woman—a composite made of marketing and television and Internet and clothing? Am I anything more than the offspring of capitalism—an offspring of the glorious United States of Stuff? Do I matter beyond what I buy? Or am I just a number stuck in a statistic of bought, recycled, burned, wasted, thrown out shit?

Look at this stuff. Am I anything more?

Fail

Someone failed at BEDA. Hardcore. Someone just kind of let it go to the dogs as soon as she said goodbye to Youtube. Someone pretended as though she cared about the internet during finals. Someone is obnoxiously typing this whole thing in third person.

I'm not going to apologize for screwing up the end of BEDA, because seriously, who wants to read a post of a long, lame ass apology?

Instead I want to give you a few gems of love.





and...



Just like these videos, my last couple of weeks have been all over the map.

Have a good Tuesday, everybody! Maybe I'll be back here soon enough...

Miles

A Youtube Goodbye

I love our subscribers.
LOVE.
LOVE.
LOVE.

We topped off the season today, and I cannot believe the response from people. Seriously. Every single one of them (you) is so wonderfully kind, and thoughtful that I want to give you all hugs. We'll only be gone for around a month, but everyone is acting like this is the total end. Showing us how much they really care, how much they love the show, and how much they appreciate what we're doing. I honestly cannot believe the kindness. I am utterly overwhelmed.
Thank you so much. As much as I try not to find my worth on the internet, you are all absolutely lovely. Sometimes I forget how wonderful people can truly be.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all.



Miles

Sounds of Music

No, this isn't going to be another playlist blog. But I was thinking about all the random sounds in the world that I love that don't get enough credit in my opinion.

Also, this is to combat the fact that THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE SILENT IN THIS LIBRARY ANYMORE. Yes, I'm that person. I'm the one giving you dirty looks for answering your PHONE IN THE LIBRARY. COME ON, DUDE!

*Breathes* *Smiles a little too widely*

So, from here on out, Mondays are going to be sensory days. I'm going to give you my favorite things in each sense. Today we've got sound!

1) The sound an apple makes when you throw it into the air and catch it in your bare hand. Try it. It's somehow amazingly satisfying.
2) The sounds of a typing (mostly on a Mac).
3) The new Owen Pallett album. Can't help myself. Just bought it this morning.
4) The low rumble of thunder and the resounding crack of lightening splitting the air.
5) The announcement on the Underground for the next stop.
6) The sound of a zipper.
7) Rain.
8) The roar of the ocean.
9) The tap of chalk on a chalkboard.
10) The squeak of dry erase markers.

Have your own favorite random sounds? Leave them in comments! See you tomorrow for confession!

Miles

Weekly Internet Vomit #8 - The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

Ever seen a bad movie? No, I mean like a really, terrible movie. The kind that is so freaking terrible that you can't seem to stand up and turn it off. One that just is so horrible that you find yourself actually beginning to like the bad acting and unrealistic fight scenes? Well, ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't seen one yet, you're about to see several.

First up, we've got an indie film called "The Room." This movie has everything: horrible acting, horrible writing, horrible choreography, cinematography, lighting, green screen shots, and of course: the horrible inability to accept that it is a terrible film.


(via @coollike)

I enjoy the shallowness of the main character, the slurring of the words of the "protagonist," and the terrible fight scene. Oh, and the cliche plot.
Go explore some of the scenes on the side if you're bored. They're sure to make you laugh.

"You are tearing me apart, Lisa!" "I'm fed up with this world!"

Ah. Bad movies.

Next up we've got a "lighthearted, dramatic comedy" called "Of Theatre and Bikinis." Ok, so most of the time I don't like railing on the little guys (this video only has about 500 views) but you've gotta admit... you have no idea what is going on with this movie.



Why is she running around in a bikini? Why is she beating up a man in a ski mask? Why is she barking like a dog at the end? How is this good?

Next up we've got a movie that is in the same vein as Troll 2. A bad horror movie with odd plot line, terrible one-liners and even worse acting.



Kiss Me, I'm Irish.

I have no follow up to that.

And finally, we've got "The Young, The Gay and the Restless." Which, I'm warning you IS NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. *Seriously, it is an awkward trailer.*



My favorite part about this trailer is that it has to tell you it's sexual. No, because I couldn't figure that out from the first 10 seconds. Oh, and thank you for the warning that this is hetero-friendly. I was getting worried you didn't have ENOUGH plot lines to handle.

Oy, vey.

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you've got any vomitous suggestions, leave them in the comments!

Miles

I Haven't Blogged...

...in two whole days.

Because seriously, a) how could I follow Tuesday's post with something about cats (or other useless ramblings)? And b) I vlogged yesterday.



But really, I don't know what to say much now. I need a theme to this blog. I think I'm going to give every day of the week a theme. We already have internet vomit on Fridays... but... Tuesday for confessions? Mondays for...? Well who knows, but I'll work on something.

So yeah, you'll get an internet vomit shortly (before midnight, hopefully), and then I'll try to make myself make sense here. Themes and schedules are good. Just ask ABC television. (bad, not funny joke.... not even really a joke at all -- see, when I don't blog, I just get sloppy... and stupid).

I'm off! Chaucer and the Arthurian Quest awaits!!

*rides off into the sun with the sound of clapping coconuts and an imaginary horse*

Miles

Coming Out

I have a couple confessions. And I'm not quite sure why I haven't made them common knowledge, because they're not the type of things one should keep secret. They explain a lot of me, and I shouldn't hide me to get more view counts or friends. If you want to know Miles Behn (henceforth known as Emily), you're in luck. It's time for some Radical Honesty.

My real name is Emily.
I'm an Open Theist.
I'm a Christian; I am a follower of Christ.
I support gay rights.
I do not think homosexuality is a sin.
I don't smoke.
I rarely drink.
Mega churches scare me.
I plan to wait to have sex until I'm married.
I've never actually cheated on a test.
Sometimes I don't do the reading, and bullshit my answers.
Yes, I swear sometimes.
I'm a vegetarian, but not because I love animals.
I don't believe in a literal translation of the Bible.
I don't think Christianity should be easy.
I don't believe in the seven day creation story.
I think the Bible should sometimes be reinterpreted by cultural context.
I've hidden a lot of these beliefs because of the negative connotations with most of the words.
I'm an egalitarian.
I'm shaped by what people think of me.
I'm nothing like I was in high school, and sometimes I wonder if that is necessarily a good thing.
I've let my relationship with God fall to the wayside. We haven't spoken in a while.
I have a superiority complex.
I don't believe in pushing my agenda on others.
I believe in inter-religious dialogue.
I don't think your field of study in college defines your career path.
I'm not going to college so I can get a job.
I'm a skeptic.
One of the reason I write is to prove something to my mother.
I can be a conspiracy theorist.
I don't have much faith in the human race as a whole.
I will lie to protect others/myself.
I believe women can be pastors.
I believe I am equal to you no matter your race, gender, education, income or system of beliefs.


Tear me apart if you so desire; disagree with me if you must. This is who I am. It may change, it may not. All I know is what is true in this moment, right now. And I'm in love with who I am.

Emily

Sweetness and Light

This entry has nothing to do with Keats.

It does however have everything to do with cats. YES, I said cats.

Hell. Freaking. Yes.



I just gave you the best 44 seconds of your life.

That is all.

EDIT: Quick note... Did anyone else notice ceiling cat up in the corner JUST STARING?? Freaky...

Music That Just Never Stops Being Beautiful

I've got a lot of homework still to do for the evening, but I'd like to suggest a playlist for you. I'm listening to a lot of mellow tunes as of late, and they're very calming, no matter what style you like (okay, now I'm just getting full of myself. As though YOU all like my music style). Nevertheless, I'm blogging a playlist tonight.

And you can't stop me.

First we start with this; an amazing piece of music that gives me chills. Echoes by The Morning Benders.

Yours Truly Presents: The Morning Benders "Excuses" from Yours Truly on Vimeo.

Following the mood, we have As I'm Leaving by David Gray.



Ingrid Michaelson's The Chain



Alexi Murdoch's Breathe



And finally Kylie From Connecticut by Ben Folds



Hope week goes well!

Miles

Weekly Internet Vomit #7 - The Great American Job Search

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

So, it's that time of year again. The weather is warmer, the school year is winding to an end... and college students everywhere are scrambling to find last minute summer internships. But what happens when you can't find one of these internships? What happens when you sit lonely and broke all summer?

You turn into this guy. And create horrible (and sadly--catchy) music.



You dress up in pink tiger striped too-tight pants, you bang a drum, wear a pigs head, and pretend to be ghetto. Can you say cha-ching?
Nope. You can't. Because you're broke.

Don't be sad dude. Get this song stuck in your head instead.



I hate/love myself for getting this song stuck in your head. Tomorrow morning, you'll be eating breakfast and this will pop into your head, and you'll want to punch me in the face.

Good thing you don't know where I live.
I hope.

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you've got any vomitous suggestions, leave them in the comments!

Miles

Parallel Lines

Bad news bears. It is now almost three AM, and I still haven't blogged today. AND it's an internet vomit day (which is now going to be tomorrow).

Today, I actually do want to talk about something interesting (and useful) I found on the internet.

So Phillips (the guys who makes TVs) have started this marketing plan for their new TV coming out with "ambient lighting." They've called the project Parallel Lines. Basically what they did was get five pretty unknown filmmakers, gave them all identical scripts and sent them on their way--giving them free reign to just do what they wanted. The short films that came from them are absolutely amazing.

Each film contains six spoken lines; the rest is up to the director's interpretation.

What is that?
It's a unicorn
Never seen one up close before
Beautiful
Get away, get away
I'm sorry

From there stemmed five gorgeous, heart-breaking five minute films. One is fully animated, one is both CGI and real film, one is painfully real, and the others are a mix. Some are funny, some are sad, some or horrifying, and yet all of them are beautiful. I am completely and utterly shocked at how much emotion, pull and gorgeous cinematography are crammed into these films. I could watch them over, and over and over again.

Check them out at www.phillips.com/cinema and comment with your favorite. Mine is Dark Room.

Parallel Lines is an absolutely amazing concept, and I would fully support other companies jumping on this band wagon. Give the people what they want--originality.
Miles

Emoticons

Today I cheat... because I vlogged.



Internet vomit tomorrow!

Miles

The Nation of Procrasti

I'm procrastinating a ton of really boring reading by posting this. If you are my Western Religious Traditions professor... LOOK AWAY!

To everyone else, hello! I like you.

Today was a much better day than yesterday, thankfully. A lot of stuff worked out that had gone horribly awry yesterday, and I got to talk to my family for a while. My mom is out of the hospital (she went in yesterday for appendicitis), and I'm getting my car fixed after the accident I got into yesterday (told you it was a bad day). I'm even okay with spending the majority of my day in the library doing homework. I took a solid break to read Will Grayson Will Grayson (which finally came in the mail! Hurrah!)
I spent some time laying in the grass with my best friend, drinking mango Jamba Juice. I had a couple of good talks with professors, connected with William Faulkner, and drank my fair share of coffee. The sun was shining, people were extremely kind and today I just felt loved. It felt really nice.

Sooner or later, I'll come up with a theme for this blog--something more than just my ramblings, hopefully. But until then, thanks for reading and responding. Maybe during BEDA I'll figure some sort of motif through all of this. I commend you greatly for sticking with me.

Miles

Botany

So after a horrible day that I'm trying to put behind me, I'd like to pose a question to you: you wonderful, BEDA audience.

What the hell is this tree?


I'm working on a novel involving trees, so I tend to get addicted to them. I think I want to use this tree at some point, so it would help to know what kind of tree it was.

I'm still trying to find my favorite (tree that is). Do you have a favorite? Is it an absurd question for me to ask? What is your most absurd favorite type of thing? Like plastic, or unrealistic fear?

I want to know. I love to know. People's thoughts always, somehow make me happy.

Hope your day was better than mine. I hope all of your days are wonderful, I really do.

Spontaneous Overflow of Powerful Emotions

The Romantics were the first of the emo poets. Keats is like one giant emo concert if put to an acoustic guitar or screamo lyrics. Coleridge is the poster child for messed up lifestyles, for profound thinking while drugged up. Byron is a sexed up hipster with too much time on his hands. And Shelley, Shelley is just sad a lot.

But what happened to melancholy? These writers inspired so much, finally made depression an okay feeling. Hell, they made depression a desirable emotion. So why do we shy away from it so much today?

Emo is a bad thing. Okay, I'll grant you--any word that starts off as an abrev is probably a mistake (pun intended), but why is it bad? Is it because most of the time it's expressed by sweaty, over hormone-pumped teens writing bad poetry? Is it because we see sadness as a weakness? Is it because in our modern society we refuse to accept anything other than happiness because it means getting messy?

When are we justified in sadness: broken love? physical pain? death? Is there a point when we should say "yeah, ok, you are allowed to feel sad about this?" Should that be our job? Are we giving standards where standards are not needed? Why are we not allowed to be sorrowful some of the time, but it's justified other times?

What happened to the desired melancholy of the Romantics? What have we become since then? And are we any better for it?

Told you this might get emo.

Miles

Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood

This weekend has been an odd sort of convergence pathways in my life. Like any soon-to-graduate college student, I find the stress of planning a life post-college spiraling out of control. I've got about fifty different choices, all of them picking and choosing from one another, fighting like chickens in a coop for the most attention.

I can go to to grad school, get a doctorate in English Lit, and teach undergrad.
I can run away to England, get a job as a barista and write all day until I publish my novel.
I can take a year off and intern for a while.
I can go to seminary and start a small church; one that finally has all that I want.
I can search my entire campus for a man, marry him within a year and guarantee financial security.
I can move to New York City, work in publishing and be a successful business woman.

A plethora of options, I know, and don't get me wrong, I'm extremely grateful to have so many, extremely grateful (I know what it has taken to get me here), but I just don't know what to do. My passion is writing, but the novels I want to write may take a while. And is that really what I'm supposed to do? Every option I fear will spiral out of control into a dead end job, a midlife crisis and a life I never wanted to live. I feel as though my life is not in my control, not something I can fashion to fit me.

How do I make this happen?

A Question of Integrity

I woke up late,
ate breakfast,
wrote
and edited.

Oh, and I made this.



While in England we reenacted the Cobb scene from Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.

So, the day hasn't been a total bust, and I do feel accomplished, but all day I've found myself questioning authorial integrity. I'm working on a young adult novella, following the life of a girl who must watch the destruction of her best friend. The problem however is that it is sort of based on real life. The characters feel pretty darn real because they are real. The situation is real, the pain is real (if re-written). So how much should I change? And how much can I keep?

Where is the line between fiction and reality? And who will I hurt if I walk it?

Weekly Internet Vomit #6 - Wait, You Tattooed What?

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

So, we've all made mistakes. Sometimes we go out a little too long, and wind up waking in a pile of our own vomit. Sometimes we think that streaking through the McDonald's parking lot at 2 AM is a good idea (I don't know from experience, I swear). And sometimes we get really stupid tattoos.

If you haven't been to www.ugliesttattoos.com yet in your life then you are missing out, my friend. Countless hours of wasted time, and repetition of the phrase "Oh, sweet goodness, WHY?!"

So, what are some of my favorite $500 dollar mistakes?



Wait, what happened here? Oh, I got it. This person wanted to make a tribute to Will Smith's two best movies: Wild, Wild West and Men in Black. Solid artwork friend.



You know what's great? Pooh characters.
You know what's better? Eeyore on your ASS.

And finally, the greatest tattoo in the history of all tattoos. The motherload of important things to tattoo on self.

DAUGHTER.
COUNTRY.
STAR WARS.



I have no words. This man's back says it all.

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you've got any vomitous suggestions, leave them in the comments!

Miles

BEDA

So. I have five minutes to write this post before it becomes midnight, and I officially miss my first day of BEDA. Oh dear.

Some notes about my future BEDA entries, if this is any indication. (4 minutes!)
1) They might sometimes be a little short. Because, well, some days I'm just not feeling profound.
2) (3 minutes!) They might be a tad emo. Some days I think profundity means being emo. On these days, it might be best to just ignore me.
3) (2 Minutes!) They might not make any sense. This being a solid example.
4) I'm not a blogger by nature. What the hell do I write here?
5) And finally, this is a giant experiment. Sometimes I'll put stupid clips of things (1 minute!)
And sometimes I'll just rant. Who knows. I hope you join me on this crazy ride. I love you all, no matter what!

Miles

Guess That Musical (Answers)

Musical 1:

c) The Little Mermaid

Musical 2:

c) Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog

Musical 3:

b) The Lion King
(but you're my hero if you write actually write the musical Macbeth: A Romping Musical!)

Musical 4:

a) Hello Dolly!


How'd you do?

Weekly Internet Vomit #5- Nightmares

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

You know what scares me? Clowns. Like every other person in the United States, I channel most of my fears through these paint faced, brightly colored, always happy MONSTERS. I also fear talking pets, and animatronics (mostly those moving reindeer lights).

So, it would seem that I don't need any other things in my life that give me nightmares. Ah, but the internet says I need more. And you know what, I say you need more too.

First up is one of the most horrifying concepts I have ever experienced in my life. Things that were once tiny and cute, turned HUGE and DEADLY CREEPY. It's My Little Ponies. Life size. ON STAGE.



Next up we have another music video from the depths of hell. This vampire man serenades you in Russian while somehow looking like he doesn't really exist. Don't believe me? Hit play.



Please, tell me all about those nightmares in the comments. I can't wait.

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you've got any vomitous suggestions, leave them in the comments!

Miles

Weekly Internet Vomit #4- Bring on the Shackles, I'm Your Prisoner

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

This week in internet vomit I give you something I swore to never talk about ever again. It's a beast we all had to ride last November, and will all ride again in a horrible four months (pun... yes, I know it's there). It sparkles in the sunlight, and stalks you in your sleep. It is deathly pale, and horribly corny.

It's your own Twilight MANLLOW!


(via @maureenjohnson)

Yes, ladies and gentlemen it is now time for your very own life-size Edward Cullen or Jacob Black. That vampire hasn't messed tweens up enough, oh no he hasn't, because he's now here to replace ever desire a boy could ever give! Why hug a boy when you can hug your manllow? Why go out with friends when you can hold your very own werewolf all night long? Why kiss a boyfriend when you can make out with Edward Cullen forever (he's an immortal pillow)?

Worried that this could get a little risque with those hormonal teenagers? Don't. Edward Cullen and Jacob Black are completely PG. They're only torsos.



Order yours today! Your manllow could be at your house in a week's time, and from then on out you'll never see the light of day again. Just like a real vampire!

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

Weekly Internet Vomit #3- Kitten Fever

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

When googling cats, you often find scores of near brain melting capacity. Your eyeballs slowly begin to turn to mush as you view page after page of pictures of cats--your "aww!"s and "cuuuuute!"s never enough to satiate the nauseating cuteness of them. It's as though cats were created by the internet to make your head explode, make it so that you think about investing in a blood screen for your computer.

But what happens when you search "cat" on Youtube? This, my friends.



I often wonder why people do the things they do. Like this man, who translated a cat fight.



And finally, I end on a high note. This little gem.



Oh yeah, that song's going to be stuck in your head for the rest of the week. Don't worry, I hate me too.

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you have any vomitous suggestions leave them in the comments!

Miles

Weekly Internet Vomit #2 - Of Babies and Men

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

This week in internet vomit, I give you a website spawned by the demons of Lolcats and Failblog. One of my new favorites sites that sucks hours out of my life, but really increases nothing of my brain power. A site that I find myself asking "why?!" and then giggling into oblivion. This site, my friends, is manbabies.com.



It's these pictures, ladies and gentlemen that cause me to wake up in horror in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, only to nearly pass out from laughter seconds later.






For more manbabies visit manbabies.com

Don't forget, the internet is like any magical place; there are often inappropriate things just at the corners of the imagination.

If you have any vomitous suggestions leave them in the comments!

Weekly Internet Vomit #1 - Seduce Me With Your Hands

The internet was a place created to connect a plethora of different peoples in a new and simple way. It was created to be a place to share knowledge, and to learn new skills, facts and information. And then society took it. And society killed it.

This week in internet vomit, I give to you some very special Youtube Vomit. From the depths of hell these two music videos take weird, to weirder, and cute, to OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!

Enjoy.


(via @woodytondorf)

What could possible scare me the most about this video?
Is it the fact that the singer's name is Mini Daddy?
Is it that his "hot chicks" are 10 year old girls in outfits from the 90s?
Is it the extremely awkward hand motions he makes when dancing that are certainly not appropriate for a boy his age?
No. I think its the gangster Aeropostale shirt he flaunts. You've got cred, my brother.


If a tiny fat kid singing a rap song wasn't enough, I give you more. A music video that looks like it was made in the 80s with a very sad, and depressed crew, that was actually made in 2001. Ah... times are moving forward.



(via robertpopper.com)

Again, another video in which the hand motions make it. Rock on, Maxine Swaby. Rock on.

Vicarious

ca-thar-sis n. the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions

vi-car-i-ous adj. experienced in the imagination through the feelings or actions of another person

Since a young age I have always been infatuated with the concept of passion. Not just in the physical sense, but the ethereal being that drives us to commit incredible acts, that gets into our guts and makes our skin almost rip off of our bodies. The type that you can feel in your blood, that hides behind anger, lust, sadness, anything that is stronger than we are. Passion is what drives us; it means the difference between a mistake and a regret, something done, and something committed.

Passion is a beast from which we cannot hide. It waits deep within us, hoping to claw its way out, poring into our bloodstreams like a toxic chemical, a drug that is self-medicating, silently waiting to tear our insides to shreds, leaving us breathless and scared. It uses everything we have, every molecule of our being to meet its ends. It feels no pity, only strength.

This infatuation passion and I have shared is a tough battle of dominance. It is a sort of drug, always pumping in my blood, waiting for me to let it loose, wreak havoc on my insides. And I let it. In controlled doses I let passion, in whatever form it may take, completely envelop me until I feel nothing but a single emotion—anger, fear, lust, love, excitement. I feel one thing, concentrated and true, one of the purest things left into which I can tap. These moments are fleeting: small doses of a thick drug. They never last more than a few seconds, but when they are done, I feel empty. When passion leaves, I feel empty.

So like any junkie, I find other ways to experience this catharsis. I take it from others, silently stealing the emotions, feeling passion vicariously. I share in the anger of a scorned woman, the lust of a fictional character, the all-encompassing depression of a songwriter, the love of a cookie-cutter movie romance. I need these things, as though without them I cannot feel at all, as though my own emotions are not good enough. I need the extremes to feel like I’m feeling, to feel like I’m living.

Without passion life is just a series of events without a cause or motive. Emotions are just weak feelings, quickly becoming dormant and subdued. They have no strength, no colour. There is suddenly no motive behind any act; the man behind the curtain is revealed and he is sad and sick.

Passion is what makes us who we are. We are defined by how we react in these moments, fleeting and short, but shaping who we will become, how we view the world. And for some of us, these moments are not enough. These short, significant bursts are too short, too weak. We need this passion to make us feel. We define ourselves with passion, rather than letting passion define us. We seek it, instead of letting it seek us. We are junkies to a drug we create; we live vicariously because we feel as though it is the only way to live. Our emotions are not enough.

For us, life is best lived vicariously.