So last Sunday a trio of YouTube musicians, Dave Days, Alex Goot, and Chad Sugg released a cover of the latest "This is so bad wait why am I singing along what is this witchcraft?" song, "Call Me Maybe." Now, before this, I had only heard the song about two times, and only really knew a smattering of the chorus. After this video appeared in my YouTube subscription box on Sunday morning, I was replaying it, using all three of the guys' channels (you know, to be fair with my views) for the next 48 hours. Continuously. I wish I could explain to you the extent to which I am not kidding.
For full understanding of this post, this might be necessary information: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2mscqMjLFs&feature=related
Now, what is it about this particular video that made it so addicting that I still find myself playing it multiple times in a row, five days after its release? Part of it is the song. It has the One Direction-Justin Bieber-I Hate Myself That I Love This aspect to it. Sure, it's vapid, lacking in any real lyrical substance, and very poorly rhymed. But the thing is catchy as hell. Another, probably larger aspect to this video's hold on me has to be, however, the musicians. They're attractive. I can say that, because I'm 21, and at this age that's still a valid excuse to like someone. But let's not talk about Dave Days in this video because he's wearing a baseball hat sideways and gives these "Hey gurl" looks to the camera throughout the video that unsettle me. They main theme of the video is two guys, Alex and Chad, decide to emulate Dave (who is a very successful and popular YouTube musician) and play some music. But hold the phone now, they're NERDS. Well that just won't do. So Dave Days magically exits their TV and sings the second verse then transforms them into rock stars. The three finish the song in new clothes and a fresh cloud of dry ice.
So here's the thing: both first-half and second-half "types" of guys are appealing to me. And not just for the, "Well, Sara, they're the same people with the same faces so yeah," but the personalities they portray. The ukelele-playing, horn-rimmed glasses wearing guys dancing with clenched fists makes me just as happy as the fashionable teen-girl-dream-fodder who take their places. (On a related note: seriously, how easy is it for guys to dress well? Grab a pair of jeans, a nice button-down or clean t-shirt, maybe a tie or a jacket, done. It's not fair.) What it comes down to is this: regardless of appearance, throughout the video, the abilities and skills of the guys shine through. And I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is nothing more attractive than talent.
So last year for Spring Break I recounted my experiences with a post-a-day for week, and called it BEDFORT because of reasons. I could do that again this year, but that sounds like a lot of work. Instead, I think I'll just rant about some stuff that happened. My roommates and I flew down to Texas for the week and stayed at the house of two of them. To get there, we flew from Hartford airport to Dallas, with a connection in Newark. Now, the flight from Hartford to Newark is very, very short, and only takes about forty minutes. We ended up sitting in the airport for about three hours, because this tiny, insignificant flight was delayed about two hours. At the time we were supposed to be boarding, we were notified the plane was about to leave from New Jersey to arrive there in about an hour. I don't handle stressful situations and delays well. This is a fact. Even though we made the time go faster playing the "I hope Rick Santorum" game, where you come up with funny and awful situations to happen to Rick Santorum. For example, "I hope Rick Santorum falls off Rainbow Road in Mario Cart every time he tries to drift," and "I hope Rick Santorum gets attacked by geese when he visits Oxford." (Which is something that happened to us last year.) We also wasted time by trying to figure out what sport the guys walking around in khakis and white polos played. The final verdict I believe was baseball. But we were discussing it for an embarassingly long time. By the time we finally arrived in New Jersey, we were in serious danger of missing our flight. Racing out of the gate, we discovered we needed to get two terminals away, and boarding had started ten minutes ago. We made our way to the correct terminal as fast as we could, then realized we had to go through security again. At this point I'm pretty much having a heart attack, especially when my friend says while we're waiting in the security line, "Do you think we should ask people if we can go through because we're so late?" and the guy in front of us turns around and responds, "No. We're all in the same boat." Oh, really? You're in the same boat as us? Your flight started boarding twenty minutes ago? WHAT A COINCIDENCE. We all got through security and then proceeded to sprint through the terminal. And I'm not exaggerating when I say we sprinted. I'm really out of shape, by the way. Thank God for moving walkways. Of course our gate was at the very end of the terminal so we ran as far as we possibly could and made it just as they were announcing last call for boarding. My feelings of incredible pride and victory were slightly hindered after this as we sat on the plane at the gate for twenty minutes as mechanics tried to fix some seats that were "uninhabitable". Whatever. I then gave up on doing my reading for Ancient Greece and resolved myself to listening to The Script's album on repeat until we landed. Within ten minutes of doing so, we saw multiple people with rhinestones on sweatshirts and cell phones, where they really don't belong. TEXAS.
This week's episode of "Glee" was particularly awful. I know that seems to be redundant, because "Glee" dishes out a fun dose of awful every week, but this newest development was a new brand of disappointing and even offensive. The premise of the story is that Will Schuester, the Glee club leader and high school Spanish teacher, is trying to get tenure, which is difficult because... he doesn't speak Spanish. At all. Throughout the hour, Will tries to get his students to relate to the Latin culture through a variety of stereotypical and borderline racist escapades. Now, secondary education is a field I hope to one day enter, and the idea that schools hire and continue to employ such ignorant employees, especially during a time when jobs are scarce, is ridiculous, but also terrifying to me. It's clear the writers and producers of "Glee" have an incredibly warped and awful view of the American education system, and they are perpetuating it through episodes like this that reach an international audience of millions. I am the first one to find faults with my country's education system, and Will Schuester now represents everything that is wrong with it. Observing in actual schools and interacting with my peers, I see a passion for teaching that is intrinsic to people, and not because it is the only job opportunity available, which is how "Glee" made it appear. In fact, at the end of the episode, when Will gives his job over to someone who actually knows the language (SHOCKING), and is asked what he will do now he says, "There's an opening in the History department... and I like History... or the History Channel anyway." Excuse me. EXCUSE ME. This is not a resolution. If teachers have no passion or even interest for the subject they teach, how on earth are they supposed to make their students care about it? I have been led by enough bad teachers to know how this ends. It seems as if this show believes excitement or talent only belongs in the arts or onstage, which is just not the case. People can love Science just as much as singing, and those who dedicate their lives to academics are just as worthwhile as those who turn to entertainment. Just because a job may not have the same prestige does not make it less important or worthy of dedication. I still love this show, but I was truly, truly disappointed with how they chose to portray the teaching profession.
Sorry for the lack of hilarious in this post, but I needed an outlet to eloquently let my feelings out. And I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS.
Here are some things: -I have vivid memories of my AP European History teacher telling us to never, ever use the word "things." Oops. -Speaking of AP Euro, in class one day, we had a sub (who was really hot, but that's beside the point) and he told us it was a work day, and there should be no talking. After a while, one of the more obnoxious guys in class started chatting with one of his obnoxious friends. This really pissed off my friend, who wanted to actually do work, so she started telling him off... in Mandarin Chinese. Both she and the guy in question speak it fluently, and they just went back and forth for a while, with the rest of us amused and perplexed. This led the sub to say, "Well, definitely no talking in languages I don't understand." -Initially growing up in a Congregational Church, I learned one version of the Lord's Prayer, and then continued to say that version alone, to myself when we moved and went to a Lutheran Church. When I was confirmed in that church, I finally switched over to that version of the prayer. However, I attended a wedding the other day in a congregational church, and then had to once again say a different version silently to myself. I just cannot win apparently. Oh man. Christianity problems. -The band One Direction is a fairly big deal on Tumblr, so I finally decided to check them out. I should have realized the flaw in this from the start, because, as I am fully aware of, I have a notriously embarrassing taste in music. So as soon as the prepubescent little fellows started singing on my screen, I start internally rocking out. That crap is catchy as fricken anything. But I can't admit that to anyone. Also, their videos are gold. In one, they ride on the roof of a double-decker bus (because they're British, even though you can't tell, which I feel is a problem. If you're English, let those accents out there. Geez.) through London, so of course that was fabulous. In another, they're out in the woods, and there's a definite Camp Rock thing going on there. They're also adorable. Not in the way I usually mean, but in a "Aww I'm going to pinch your cheek, pat your head, give you a cookie and send you on your way, you little scamp." -In one of my class notebooks, I started writing song lyrics in the margin (a common practice of mine when lecture is boring, which admitedly is most of the time) without realizing I'd already drawn a dalek farther down the page last week. So I just worked around it. But now there are lyrics to a sappy love song around the dalek, making it look like the homicidal alien is singing the words to the song about love and loss. -I have no idea what band is playing on my itunes right now. Oh, wait, it's Metro Station. Whatever, they all sound the same. -I follow Nick Jonas on Twitter and I have no idea why. I have absolutely no memory of ever thinking it would be a good idea to follow him. These were some things.
Exactly a year ago today my friend Emily and I met those British guys I've written about quite a bit before, and because I'm a sack of sentimentality I thought I'd mark the occasion by telling the story of that day. Over the past year, I've had to field the question, "Oh, how'd you meet them?" from many, many people when they find out I met authentic, genuine British people. And frankly, while it is one of my favorite stories, it is also fairly lengthy (at least the way I tell it), so I want to just get it out once and for all. So now, if anyone asks me that question, I can snort in derision, say "You so obviously do NOT read my blog," and walk away in a huff.
The day my school group left for London, we were all sitting in JFK waiting to board the plane, Emily saw me reading Mockingjay and we began a conversation. She brought up that she knew a YouTube gathering was going on in the city the following Saturday, and I invited myself along. From pretty much that point, the two of us were kind of attached at the hip, so much so that people in our program thought we were friends prior to the trip, but that's neither here nor there. So the following Saturday, our first real free day there, Emily and I met up to head over to the gathering location, near the London Eye. Of course, we were still new to the city, so we took two different bus routes to get there, and that method meant it took us about an hour to get there. A little later, we would figure out the convenience of the Tube, and were able to get to the same location in about ten to fifteen minutes, so that's a tad embarrassing. We arrived at the location, which is called a "park" but is really just an expanse of grass by the Eye, at the right time, but the thing about these gatherings is you don't really know what the people you're meeting look like. Or we didn't, at least. So we spent the next hour wandering around the area, looking for internet-y looking people. There is a stretch of sidewalk by this park that is a common place for street performers and those weird people who pretend to be statues (which I have SO MANY problems with). Because it was Saturday, it was really busy, and while Emily and I were caught up in the homeless magicians, Statues of Liberty, and tourists, I ended up giving ten pounds to an old lady "for the children" aka "for the crack addiction."
After an hour of aimless and unsuccessful wandering, we eventually spotted a group of 15-25 year olds that looked promising. Now, true to form, I was too intimidated to go up to them, because we still didn't know for sure they were the right people, and you can't just go up to strangers and ask, "Hey, are you from the internet?" But that's pretty much exactly what Emily did, adding on a, "Hi! We're American!" for good measure. The next hour was spent avoiding akward silences and bonding with the guys and the occassional other person who would amble over from the other group that had collected there. One of these was a young girl from Ireland who, very loudly, shared with everyone a mark from where a guy had bitten her. About this she said, "Don't worry, though. I bit him too. I kind of have a thing for that." I was extremely uncomfortable.
After that the whole group decided to move en mass to the the nearby Waterloo train station to grab something to eat. On the way over, Emily and I tried to work out which guy was which (I think for the first few hours I was convinced Greg was Josh) and asked them the in-retrospect possibly stupid question of if this Waterloo was THE Waterloo. After some discussion and a group decision that it wasn't, the five of us left the big group to go to the station's Starbucks because Emily was cold and wanted a hot drink. After realizing the cafe was in an open-air part of the station and hence almost as chilly as outside, we sat and bonded some more anyway. As I went to check that I still had the American money with me just in case, Greg insisted I show it to Josh, who had never been out of the country. As he stared at my country's currency he said, "Wow, it really is green." Yes, Josh. Yes it is.
We then met back up with the others long enough for everyone to decide to just disperse for the day, and the guys then took us across the street to a pub, mine and Emily's first in England. zwwzwwwwppwwwzzzzz- that's me fast-forwarding through some embarassing moments you don't need to know about. We bonded, it was a good time, people broke out smart phones and friended other people on Facebook. After taking another retrospectively-embarassing long time figuring out how to get back to our flats, we finally left. We then saw them about once a week for the next four months, until we flew back to America. And that makes the comment Ben made on Facebook that first night, that "we should hang out one more time again before you guys leave" slightly hilarious. Now, we all know I hate emotion, so I'll just say they're cool people and it's possible I miss them and I suppose I don't not love them.
It's now well into January, and this winter season has only seen one decent snowstorm, and that was back in October. I'm conflicted on how I feel about this, because at my best I tolerate snow. While I appreciate the beauty of a white Christmas, I've had enough white Easters back in Minnesota that I can do with a few holidays remaining snowless. Still, in the spirit of seasonal cheer, I thought I'd share some snow-themed anecdotes, because isn't that just adorable.
-One weekend afternoon during my senior year of high school, my best friend and I were out about town, adventuring, as was usually the case that year. On this particular day, she needed to prepare for and complete a photo shoot she needed to do for her Photography class, using me as a model. Don't be too impressed, I was in jeans and a sweatshirt.
Weirdly enough, I'm actually wearing that same sweatshirt right now. I didn't even plan that.
The spot where she wanted to shoot was at a local park. Now, it had snowed quite a bit the night before, as it does in the Midwest seven months out of the year. While the streets had of course already been cleared by the well-practiced Minnesotan plows, the park's parking lot had not been. I don't know what I was thinking, or if I was just outrageously over-confident, but I thought my little car could manage to drive over the drift by the entrance and just park on the snow, no problem. This was sadly not actually the case. My car ended up being completely and totally stuck in the snow. To add to the ridiculousness of this situation, my friend and I quickly discovered someone else was in the area taking pictures. He, however, was taking pictures of us. So that was a bit unnerving. After laughing at my stupidity for longer than I'm proud of, I decided to call my friend, who lived close by, to come meet us with a shovel. After no doubt rolling his eyes in a "Why am I not even surprised Sara did this" kind of way, he came and, with the aid of some helpful passers-by dug me out of the snow. Following this, I easily parked in the completely clear parking lot of the church next to the park.
-A few years before that incident, when I was 15, I was just learning to drive. One afternoon, my dad let me drive home from somewhere, presumably somewhere close to our house. My sense of direction didn't really develop until I was driving myself places and so it absolutely needed to if I was going to survive. While this car was not brand new at this point, it was definitely closer to new than not. And on this particular afternoon it was snowing quite fiercely, and the plows had not gotten to all the streets yet. I, quite understandably I think, took the easiest route home (there were about twelve), which involved one quite long, windy, hilly road. Between driving my dad's car and the snow falling heavily, I was close to a heart attack already. Then I reached a rather steep upward length of road, and needed to really step on the gas to make it up. When the road leveled out, I started spinning out. For those of you who don't drive, or only drive in sub-Saharan places where snow doesn't fall, you will never know the intense panic that accompanies driving a sliding car on snow. To my young heart, this was truly the end. While I did my best to not actually die, and recovered quite well, the car did end up partially in a snowbank, a few feet from a tree, to top it all off. And what was my dad doing while all of this was happening and I was fearing for my life? The jerk was just sitting in the passenger seat, laughing his head off. Hilarious.
-Around that same time, my sister was looking for possible colleges that would most help her succeed in the theater business. (HA that was joke. "Succeed in theater." LAWL. As if.) One of the schools she was looking into was in the city of Chicago, and one weekend in the winter my sister, mom, and I took a trip down there so she could see the school and interview for acceptance. While my sister was presenting her portfolio to what I can only assume was a group of people wearing various colors of berets, my mom and I went searching for a Dunkin Donuts we knew was nearby. This was another instance where it had just snowed the night before, and I was not prepared for this. I thought I would be fine trudging through blocks and blocks of snowy Chicago wearing thin socks and thinner canvas shoes. After three streets, I was uncomfortable. After ten streets, I was cold. After fifteen, I was angry with everything. After twenty, I lost the ability to feel, both physically and emotionally. By the time we arrived at the Dunkin Donuts, my feet were soaked as if I had just dunked them in a pool of ice water, and then kept them in there for ten minutes, for some reason. I immediately sat down at a table, and in full view of the other customers, proceeded to take off my shoes and socks and massage my bare feet in public. Another strong moment for me.
Snow's ok, I guess. But it can also be kind of a dick.
-This summer, I took a break from cashiering then doing nothing to hang out with my friend who came to visit America. This picture was taken in Boston, by the harbor, after being caught in a sudden rainstorm. In my life, instances such as this are normal.
-Later in the summer, my friend Greg also visited America, so a few of us met up and hung out for a bit. Which meant a few of us ended up in onesies. Obviously.
-I absolutely love my suite at school, which is dubbed "The Flat" because my roommates and I all met and lived in London last semester. We had a spread of various soaps available in the bathroom, and it was decorated extensively for Christmas. We had our tree set up in late October, so initially we decorated it for Halloween before switching for Christmas. It was the perfect atmosphere for the "fake Christmas" I celebrated with my friends.
-On my birthday, I went apple picking with my roommates. Along with the apples, we also picked up pumpkins, and I carved my first jack-o-lantern ever a few weeks later.
-This semester, I took a Latin American history course, and have never been so bored in a class in my entire life. The silver lining to this is I drew some truly great Doctor Who and Harry Potter-inspired doodles in my notebook.
-After going to see my friend from middle school in a hockey game, some of us decided it would be fun to go ice skating. Even though it had been a while since I had skated and my legs were sore the next day, I did not actually fall. So, you know, success.
-In October, we had a massive snowstorm. Pretty much the rest of the entire state went without power for the next week, but on campus we were totally fine, even though the storm did cancel a scavenger hunt I had been planning for a group of us. You win some, you lose some.
-A few weeks ago, one of my roommates had to take the GRE because she is the smartest of all the people, and I drove her to the site with a few friends. Instead of driving there and back and there and back, we stayed down there and adventured. We came across a trail white driving through rural areas looking in vain for stores, then tried to find a waterfall that didn't seem to exist.
mulate Dave (who is a very successful and popular YouTube musician) and play some music. But hold the phone now, they're NERDS. Well that just won't do. So Dave Days magically exits their TV and sings the second verse then transforms them into rock stars. The three finish the song in new clothes and a fresh cloud of dry ice.
: both first-half and second-half "types" of guys are appealing to me. And not just for the, "Well, Sara, they're the same people
with the same faces so yeah," but the personalities they portray. The ukelele-playing, horn-rimmed glasses wearing guys dancing with clenched fists makes me just as happy as the fashionable teen-girl-dream-fodder who take their places. (On a related note: seriously, how easy is it for guys to dress well? Grab a pair of jeans, a nice button-down or clean t-shirt, maybe a tie or a jacket, done. It's not fair.)
again: there is nothing more attractive than talent.
