11th Dimension

I found a song by Julian Casablancas (best known for heading DChen's ultimate favorite garage-rock band The Strokes) that really inspired me. I was surprised by how much deeper it was than most Strokes songs.

"I'll just nod, I've never been so good at shaking hands
I live on the frozen surface of a fireball
Where cities come together to hate each other in the name of sport
America, nothing is ever just anything
I looked up to you, but you thought I would look the other way

And you hear what you want to hear
And they take what they want to take...

Don't be sad, won't ever happen like this anymore
So whens it coming, this last new great movement that I can join?
It won't end here, your faith has got to be greater than your fear

Forgive them, even if they are not sorry
All the vultures, bootleggers at the door waiting
You are looking for your own voice but in others
While it hears you, trapped in another dimension

Drop your guard, you don't have to be smart all of the time
I've got a mind full of blanks, I need to go somewhere new fast
And don't be shy, oh no, at least deliberately - cause no one really cares or wonders why anymore
Oh, I got music, coming out of my hands and feet and kisses...

That is how it once was done
All the dreamers on the run

Forgive them, even if they are not sorry
All the vultures, bootleggers at the door waiting
We're so quick to point out our own flaws in others
Complicated mammals on the wings of robots

If you believe in this world then no one has died in vain
But don't you dare get to the top and not know what to do"

It's nice to hear a song that encourages forgiveness, faith, and individuality, and in this world, it's becoming increasingly rare.

Julian Casablancas-11th Dimension

The vegetarian post

I have been a vegetarian for almost a year and a half now.

I feel that it would lend credibility to my argument if I explained what I was like in the past. Basically, I was a huge carnivore. Double bacon cheeseburgers were my main vice; I could eat a two-pound burger in half an hour, easily, when I was in eighth grade. Yeah, take a moment to think about how disgusting that is. It goes without saying that I ate pulled pork sandwiches like there was no tomorrow, and that I firmly believed the best seasoning for food was bacon bits. That's why I get irritated when people suggest I don't know what I'm missing-trust me, I do.

Why, then, did I become a vegetarian? Well, there were a lot of small factors that added up. For one thing, it dawned on me that if I'm so squeamish of my own muscles and veins, why would I eat others' muscles and veins? From that point on, meat became kind of creepy. After all, it's no fun when you can't think about what you're eating because you're afraid you'll be grossed out by it. Another factor is that I love animals, and it seemed hypocritical to say I was for animal rights and then go eat an animal. The icing on the cake was the documentary "Food, Inc.", which we watched in health class. It documented the way we get meat in America. To be honest, the way meat is produced is disgusting. The animals are kept in squalid conditions, the workers are exploited, it's often unsanitary, it wreaks havoc on the environment, etc.

All in all, I'm happy being a vegetarian. No one in my family took me seriously when I said I wanted to stop eating meat, so I'm proud of myself for sticking with it as long as I have. I feel better about my eating habits. And I don't resent people who eat meat-in fact, I don't really even miss it anymore.

In short, big changes are not as hard to make as you would think.

Babies

It's not that I dislike babies. In fact, I harbor no bad feelings toward them. Congratulations on the new baby. Props to parents. I just wouldn't want one.

People are really disbelieving when I tell them that I honestly wouldn't want a baby. An older adopted child, maybe. But certainly not a wailing alarm clock. People tell me that "deep down, everyone wants a baby" and "you can never feel the same about an adopted child as you can about your own child" (which I believe is utterly untrue). I have never felt that "maternal instinct" toward babies.

Part of it springs from my natural squeamishness. You have to get blood tests and IVs and shots when you're pregnant, all so you can painfully eject a tiny, screaming mass from your body. Then there's the diaper changing, spitting up, and various health problems babies always seem to have. I always perceive them as being extremely fragile, too; whenever I hold one, I freeze up like I'm holding a raw turkey stuffed full of dynamite.

Maybe someday I'll adopt a child. I like kids, just not babies. I just wouldn't want to bring a baby into the world if I wasn't completely enthusiastic about it, or if I felt it would personally hinder me.

Mrs. Hilston would totally understand this.

Does it offend you, yeah?

It seems like people take offense to absolutely everything these days. Offhand remarks are so easily misconstrued, and entertainers and politicians are walking on eggshells trying not to say something politically incorrect. When one of them slips up, he or she is torn apart by the media. And these aren't even Mel Gibson-sized slip ups; many of them have nothing to do with race.

I'm not saying that people shouldn't be sensitve to others and their lifestyles and beliefs. But everyone's human, and everyone says something they regret once in a while. And everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion.

The play's the thing

I just started pit orchestra for the spring musical, and it made me think about all the details and hard work that go into planning something as ephemeral as a school play. For all the times I have been to plays, I have never once taken into consideration the immense effort it took to make that three-hour production happen. I feel kind of guilty about that. I've been in some plays, too, but even then I only thought about the part I was involved with.

Think about it: the actors go through auditions, casting, read-throughs, choreography sessions, music rehearsals, run-throughs, and performances. All of them have to coordinate their schedules around the play. The stage crew has to figure out how to interpret the play and adapt it to the particular stage it will be performed on, then make it a reality. They have to obtain the materials, put them together safely, make it look presentable, make adjustments, go to all the rehearsals, move everything, and manage scores of important props, all while doing their best to stay out of peoples' way. Throw in costuming for sixty people. Every single one of them needs a well-fitting outfit, and some need clothes designed specifically for the play. While all this is going on, the tech crew has to figure out the logistics of lighting and sound, often dealing with irritating actors and choreographers. They also have to know the exact cues for lights, mics, and sound effects. The orchestra has to be assembled and must practice over and over again until they know the parts well enough to be able to play at the drop of a hat. And then all of these elements have to come together and adapt to each other.

In a lot of ways, a play is like a giant animal. Every contributor is like some sort of organ. It's easy to only focus on what you do and not see the forest for the trees. It's an amazingly intricate machine, and all of the parts have to be working in order for it to succeed.

Next time I'm at a play, this is all I will be able to think about.

Old Stuff

Whenever I go to my grandparents' old house (my grandpa died and my grandma has Alzheimer's; we're in the process of cleaning out the place) I make a beeline to an old cabinet in the living room. The top part is filled with antique medicine bottles, which haven't exactly aired out, so it's nausea-inducing to get within three feet of the cabinet. I hold my breath and open the lower part of the cabinet. I always grab a book or two to take home and read.

My grandparents kept a plethora of old books. My grandpa would buy them up at garage sales; he couldn't bear to see them being thrown away. These books are more valuable to me than any inheritance. There are almanacs, photo albums, novels, journals, encyclopedias, newspapers, and letters. Every one of them contains interesting little tidbits of information, and I love reading them. I've kept the majority of them because I don't want to see them get thrown away.

They say that this obsession with history is passed down to the oldest child of every oldest child in my family. It makes sense, then, that I, the oldest child of my father, who is the oldest child of my grandpa, would inherit this love of history.

Maybe I should listen to Beethoven...

I recently stumbled upon an interesting study that compares students' SAT scores with their favorite music. It breaks down the music by genre, and then by specific bands and musicians. I thought it was intriguing because of how stereotypical it seemed-Beethoven listeners racked up the top scores, while Lil Wayne fans were among the lowest. It also showed the range of scores; more popular musicians tended to have much larger score ranges due to their broad reach.

Basically, the study made wonder: do we like certain music because of our intelligence level, or is our intelligence level affected by the music we listen to? Personally, I think the first seems more logical. People tend to gravitate towards music that resonates with them. It would make sense, then, that people with similar intelligence levels would listen to the same type of music. Of course there are outliers, and I know that correlation does not prove causation, but it does seem like a viable theory.

I think that in some ways, the music you listen to can inhibit your intelligence. I mean, studies support the idea that playing Mozart for your baby will make it smarter (though I don't know how much of that is fact and how much is just people who want to brag about how smart their kid is). I know from personal experience that I enjoyed the Beatles's, Ben Folds's, and Regina Spektor's music long before I even knew that they were the ones who had written it. My favorite song when I was little was "Octopus's Garden" and  I only recently found out it was by the Beatles.

In a lot of ways, this study is inconclusive because it doesn't include any information about other factors that go into the type of music people enjoy, such as friends and location. I have to admit, though, that I did a little fist pump when I saw that Sufjan Stevens fans got the second-highest scores.

See the chart