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?