This blogging thing is really fun, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t always think of cool things to write about. Sometimes I just get so busy that I don’t even have time to write anything. I enjoy the challenge of trying to think of something worthwhile that I have to say, something profound I have to add to the world, but sometimes my creative faculties just fall short. Sure, I witness things, experience things, think of things, and say to myself, “I could put this in my blog.” I get lots of ideas sometimes, but so few of them are worthwhile.
There are so many reasons why a blog subject gets rejected. Sometimes I don’t feel like I can do such an involved subject justice. Other times, I just don’t feel like it’s funny enough. There are subjects I reject because of the personal nature. Some entries I don’t write because they would just be entirely too short for my liking. I decided to post my Top Ten List of rejected blog subjects, their premise, and their working titles. I hope you get some laughs.
10. Complaining about my dorm floor, 4th Canevin, and the noise that ensues (“The Best R&B, All Day, Really Loud!”)
9. The radical temperature changes in Canevin showers, and how you can get second degree burns on your feet. (“Feet in the Sahara, Head Full of Soap”)
8. Bob Ross, one of my all-time-favorite painters and TV personalities. I named my fish after one of his paint colors, Thalo Blue. (“Happy Little Trees”)
7. My lack of luck with guys, and the dating world in general (“Dating, Part 4: Why Do Men Hate Me?”)
6. Why I hate make-up (“I Feel Pretty… After Two Layers of Paint”)
5. How the majority of Disney cartoon movies feature people who either come from a broken home or lose their parent during the course of the movie. Snow White and Cinderella both had wicked step mothers; Simba’s father dies; Bambi loses his mother; Belle, Jasmine, and Arial all only had fathers. (“DISNEY: Divorce Idealization through Song Numbers for Endangered Youth”)
4. Sappy, pathetic stories from my former relationship… ALL of them were rejected. With great haste.
3. Various antics from my misspent youth. (“Officer Shaffer, Master of the Playground”, “Hey, Isn’t That Lake Erie?”, “$5 Pizza Never Tasted So Good”, “It’s Jupiter, Now Shut Up and Go To Sleep”, “Thombody… Ith the Devil”)
2. Stories about my high school teachers, for better and worse. (“The Great Tate and Happy Sentences”, “An Atom is Like a Basketball”)
And the number one rejected blog entry…
1. Why I am such a geek. It would have been a long entry. I came up with three working titles: “Beam Me Up, Loser”, “Dang, I Missed My Saving Throw”, and “Tap Two, Gain a Real Life”.
I am sure most of you got the first reference. Many of you may have gotten the second reference, too. If any of you understood the third reference, God help you.
While hanging out with Karissa when she directed me to a Fox Trot cartoon hanging on a cork board in her room. The main character, whatever his name is, was building various snow things that began with man. He made a snow mantis, a snow mandible, a snow mandolin, even snow Manitoba. I looked at the snow mantis and laughed. I then told Karissa my mantis story.
Summer ’04 was wearing to a close, and I started thinking about going back to school. My well-loved, hand-crocheted blanket whose only purpose is to clothe my college bed had been on my floor for all of summer, so I decided it was a good idea to wash it before its return to dearest Seton Hill. It went for a spin in the washing machine, and then I hung it out on the clothes line to dry.
The blanket looked a little better after its washing, so I went out to the line to take it down. I realized I needed to fold it to pack it, so rather than grabbing it off the line and rolling it into a ball to take it into the house (as was my first inclination), I folded it on the line. It was in an easy-to-carry square by the time I was finished, and it neatly went into the box.
The box was packed with my school things, and off I went, back to SHU. I was preparing my room to make it look tidy and presentable, and I got out my blanket to put on my bed. I unfolded it, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw something fly across the room. I looked to where the thing landed, and there I saw a dead mantis, maybe three inches long, lying on my floor. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just kept it. Someone suggested that mantises (manti?) are good luck. Well, it wasn’t really positioned well to sit up, so I often moved it to make it look cool. The creature was quite dead, however, so it soon became crispy, and limbs began snapping off left and right, no pun intended. So I decided to throw the thing away.
Karissa was laughing at this point, limbs snapping off of a deceased mantis. “This is so terrible, I said. Laughing at a dead mantis.”
Rigor mantis! Karissa coined the term, so I give her the credit. It is now kind of an inside(ish) joke.
That’s my mantis story. Hope you liked it.
Seeing as how this is my final semester on dearest Seton Hill, I wanted to get a change of scenery. I was fired/I quit the Biology department… It’s not either or, it’s somewhere in the blurry middle. Like, I was strongly encouraged to leave, and I did so happily. It’s not that I didn’t love working there… That’s a lie. I didn’t love working there. Regardless, I moved on to bigger and better things. I did my first work study hour-and-a-half of 2005 in my brand new area of employment—Seton Hill University Theater Undergraduate Program (SHUT UP)!
So as I have told about a dozen people, I taught myself how to knit over break. I learned this valuable skill in preparation of working under Sue O’Neill, the costume shop lady, who genuinely appreciates my work. This year for the musical Pippin, the costume shop was planning on making chain mail armor. No, not out of chains, but out of yarn! Anyone who has seen the most wonderful epic film Monty Python and the Holy Grail knows how beautiful sweaters can take the place of chain mail. Yes, the chain mail shirts in Holy Grail were actually sweaters.
I am thrilled to work in the theater department. As I have said in the past, I often feel like I don’t have a lot of creative leeway as a scientist. For this reason, I am a proud member of the beloved Eye Contact. Working for the theater department is going to be another outlet for my love of art. I am sure that this semester is going to be full of exciting twists and turns, many of them blogworthy.
My other four work study hours still belong to the SHU Chem Department. I got an e-mail from my supervisor, asking me to get started right away, making the following solutions for Monday’s lab:
1. 1.0 M acetic acid - 100 mL
2. 1.0 M lead acetate
3. 1.0 M NaOH
4. 1% hydroxylamine hydrochloride
You can see why I feel like I have no creativity. If I switched from 1.0 M NaOH to, oh, 10.0 M NaOH, my boss probably wouldn’t be happy. If I decided that lead acetate just wouldn’t look right under the hood, I couldn’t switch to sodium acetate for better color complementation. Sure, I enjoy working for the Chemistry department, I love it. It’s just a different bird.
To give my chosen area of study a little credit, I do have fun things involved in my major. As Vice President of the Chem Club, I get to design really nifty signs. Those awesome signs for Chemistry Club meetings? The ones with all of the colors and pretty pictures? Yep, that’d be me. I also get to write articles for the Communicator and design the newsletter.
I will always have this need to be creative no matter what I do. Even after I’m employed full time as a Ph.D. chemist working 40 hours a week, I’ll still be sewing my own costumes, knitting my own scarves, and Irish jigging at concerts. As my semester draws to a close, however, I’ll be able to earn money doing something I do for free for myself—sewing.
Last December, for my French final composition, I had three prompts to write from. The first: How do you feel about money? The second: What are your plans for the future? The third: Who are you?
Naturally, I couldn't resist the great question of our times... Qui êtes-vous? So I chose that for my topic. I thought about it for awhile, and then decided that I couldn't just say the obvious--chemistry major, short, blonde, blah blah blah. I wanted the document to really express who I am. The beginning was the basics, but the rest of the document really resonated with who I really am. I now respectfully submit my French final paper, both in French (mediocre French at that) and English.
Qui suis-je ? C’est une question très ardue, mais je voudrais penser que tu me connaisses un peu plus mieux après que tu auras lis ça. Je m’appelle Stéphanie. J’ai presque 22 ans, je suis de petite taille, et j’aime beaucoup des musiques classiques et jazz. Je suis la cadette de quatre, j’ai les cheveux blondes et les yeux verts, et j’adore lire. Mon mieux ami est mon chien, Simon.
J’aime penser à moi-même d’une fille remarquable dans une vie ordinaire. Le monde autour de moi est aussi fantastique, mais je vis très simplement. J’aime le plus les choses commun. Les étoiles, les arcs cieux, les coups de foudre, tous les choses sont extraordinaires pour moi.
Je suis catholique, et j’avais été catholique depuis je suis né. Ma mère m’élevée catholique, mais je l’ai choisi aussi. J’aime la religion beaucoup. Ma religion m’apprenait copieusement des choses importantes. Je parle avec Dieu fréquemment, et il répond dans les mots merveilleux. Les petites coïncidences, c’est la main de Dieu avec laquelle il t’aide.
Ma personnalité est une mosaïque de toutes les choses qui j’avais connu et envisagé. Mes rêves sont toutes belles, et mes espoirs sont tous grands. En dépit de ça, je peux rester à la terre. Mes amis sont tous importants, et j’aime les entendre quand ils ont besoin pour quelqu’un. Je donne mon cœur souvent aux personnes qui a besoin pour l'assistance.
[english]
Who am I? This is a very arduous question, but I would like to think that you will know me a little better after you will have read this. My name is Stephanie. I am nearly 22 years old, I am short, and I really like classical and jazz music. I am the youngest of four, I have blonde hair and green eyes, and I love to read. My best friend is my dog, Simon.
I like to think of myself as a remarkable girl in an ordinary life. The world around me is also fantastic, but I live very simply. I like common things best. Stars, rainbows, lightning, all these things are extrodinary for me.
I am Cahtolic, and I have been Catholic since I was born. My mother raised me Catholic, but I chose it also. I like the religion a lot. My religion taught me copiously of important things. I talk to God frequently, and he responds in marvellous words. Little coincidences, it's the hand of God with which he guides you.
My personality is a mosaic of all the things that I have known and imagined. My dreams are all beautiful, and my hopes are all large. Despite this, I am able to stay grounded. My friends are all important, and I like to listen to them when they need someone. I give my heart often to people who have need for assistance.
Hopefully, after reading this, you can understand me a little better. I believe that this short essay helped me discover a few things about myself.
Now that I have a cellular phone, receiving phone calls on my dorm phone is becoming increasingly rare. Still, I answer all incoming calls, never knowing when one is going to be Publisher’s Clearing House or the president of the American Chemical Society. I could be receiving so many important calls that I cannot bring myself to ignore the phone when I hear that beloved double ring. More often than not, however, my phone dread is correct, and the person on the other end of the line is trying to give me a credit card.
Credit cards were invented in the early 1900s by a Baton Rouge business man named Jacques Crédit. The national monetary system was so alluring to him, he said to himself, “Sacré bleu! Wouldn’t it be amazing if people could buy zings zat zey really can not afford? Zey could pay for somezing over ten years instead of just purchasing it outright! I am, how you say, ze genius!” He went on to devise a plan on how he could make people owe him money forever, and in exchange, they received a piece of plastic about the size of a note card. As his plan of financial security continued, he placed his greenback thumb into more and more areas.
“Zis is ze greatest idea yet! It is called a ‘credit score’! Wizout a good credit score, people can’t buy new cars or new houses! Now people, zey are required to take my plastique and owe me money for zeir entire lives!”
After Jacques’ early death at the hands of an angry Louisiana lynch mob, it was already too late. Credit cards and the idea of credit scores had already taken over in the financial world. Any college student knows the joys of credit card applications and phone calls, and many of them know the thrill of the card itself. I can’t afford this—charge it!
What I resent to is a credit card company calling me in my dorm room, in my own personal world, where school is supposed to be my only stress. All of the sudden, these telemarketers who are so worried about my financial future are calling me at least once a week. This is my first day back on campus, for Pete’s sake, and I already received a phone call. These calls are always the same.
*ring ring… ring ring…*
Me: I had better answer that. It’s an outside call. Maybe I’ve won the million dollars.
(picks up phone)
Me: Hello?
Voice: HellothisisEverybankUSA,andIwasjustwonderingifyouwantedtotakeadvantageofournewoffer.Yousee,
it’sveryimportantfortoday’scollegestudenttoownacreditcard,soallIwantyoutodoisanswerafewsimple
questionsandgiveusyourfirstbornchildandyouaremorethanwelcometogiveusyourmoneyfortherestof
yourlife.IhopeitisokayforustotaperecordthisconversationthatwayIknowforsureIgoteverythingright
andIcantellifyouarelyingtomeaboutanyofthequestions. (breath) Is this all right?
Me: Um, I don’t really want a credit card.
Voice: Butthisissuchanamazingoffer! We’reofferingyouzeropercentAPRonallbalancetransferrsandwearealsonotmakingyoupayustogiveyou
thecardinthefirstplace.Youhavetobuildupyourcreditnow!
Me: I really don’t make enough money to warrant a credit card.
Voice: Butthiscouldbeacardforemergenciesonly.Wedon’tchargeyouanythinguntilyouactivateit,andI’mcertain
youhaveemergencies,afterallyou are acollegestudent,areyounot?
Me: No, thank you.
Voice: Wellifyoueverneedanything,besuretocallourphonenumber, 1-888-5477277.
*click*
And those are just the people that call that can speak English fluently! I shudder whenever I talk to the people that are obviously not native to this country who are trying to give me a credit card that I really do not want anyway.
“We have new offer… we give you credit card. Yays?”
But still, I fall for it every time. The phone rings, and I answer it. Occasionally it is someone important, but not often enough that I shouldn’t consider screening my phone calls. Some day I will get a credit card, for sure. I will. I don’t want one right now, though. I don’t want to be like the hundreds of thousands of college students hopelessly in debt, not only because of student loans, but because they use a credit card like it’s cash. These credit card companies deliberately seek out students, too.
Not to mention the letters. I think I get an average of two credit card applications in the mail every week. I rip them open, take out the sensitive information, shred it, then toss the rest. I barely look at it. I do look at the Standard APR, and if I ever find something with a nonridiculous percentage rate, I may just get one sooner rather than later.
All in all, it is exciting to hear the phone double ring. I get some odd sense of importance every time, even knowing that it’s most likely just a telemarketer. As long as people don’t start calling my cell phone to try to sell me things, I think I can deal with it for a little while longer.