Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 30 songs that play (no matter how embarrassing)
Step 3: Strike through the song when someone guesses the artist and song title correctly
Step 4: Looking them up on Google or another search engine is CHEATING!
Step 5: If nobody gets the song right, then you may post further hints.
Step 6. Make your own list
1. If all our life is but a dream/Fantastic posing greed/Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea/For diamonds do appear to be/Just like broken glass to me
Northern Downpour, Panic! At the Disco
2. Mr. Sandman showing his beam/When he walks into the room the walls lean in to listen/Surfed out brain waves flick back and forth/Like old headlights sniffing model glue again
3. I close both locks below the window,/I close both blinds and turn away,/Sometimes solutions aren't so simple,/Sometimes goodbye's the only way.
Shadow of the Day, Linkin Park (Boyce Avenue cover)
4. Oh, little did she know/Couldn't let me go/Already a part of her/So often do I meet/People in between/That just can't get ahold of it
Pas De Cheval, Panic! At the Disco
5. When I was a young boy/My father took me into the city to see a marching band.
Welcome to the Black Parade, My Chemical Romance
6. How long have I been in this storm?/So overwhelmed by the ocean's shapeless form/Water's getting harder to tread/With these waves crashing over my head
7. How cruel is the golden rule,/When the lives we lived/Are only golden plated?
8. Eleanor Rigby,/Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been (Easy one :P )
Eleanor Rigby, The Beatles (The Fray cover)
9. And it's been awhile, since I could hold my head up high/And it's been awhile, since I first saw you
10. Come save me from walking off a windowsill/Or I’ll sleep in the rain/Don’t you remember when I was a bird/And you were a map?
Mad as Rabbits, Panic! At the Disco
11. That summer we took threes across the board /But by fall we were a cover story /Now in stores
12. I won't suffer, be broken,/get tired or wasted,/surrender to nothing,/or give up what I started and stop this/from end to beginning.
13. A daydream spills from my corked head and/Breaks free of my wooden neck/Left a nod over sleeping waves
Behind the Sea, Panic! At The Disco
14. You're a canary, I'm coal mine/'Cause sorrow is just all the rage/Take one for the team/You all know what I mean
15. I used to rule the world/Seas would rise when I gave the word/Now in the morning I sleep alone/Sweep the streets I used to own
Viva la Vida, Coldplay
16. Clouds are marching along, singing a song, just like they do/If the clouds were singing a song,/I'd sing along/Wouldn't you too?
Do You Know What I'm Seeing?, Panic! At the Disco
17. Every morning I put it on,/I walk outside and I am gone/And I don't seem to mind anymore,/I can't think what it was like before/I wore it all the time.
Persona, Blue Man Group
18. Well I was there on the day/They sold the cause for the queen/And when the lights all went out/We watched our lives on the screen
Disenchanted, My Chemical Romance
19. Softly we tremble tonight, /Picture perfect fading smiles are all that's left in sight,
20. You could have knocked me out with a feather/I know you've heard this all before but we're just hell's neighbors
21. Lights go out and I can't be saved/Tides that I tried to swim against/You've put me down upon my knees/Oh I beg, I beg and plead, singing
22. Baby, seasons change but people don't/And I'll always be waiting in the back of the room
23. I'm coming apart at the seams/Pitching myself for leads in other people's dreams now/Buzz buzz buzz
24. Back to the street where we began/Feeling as good as lovers can, you know/Yeah we're feeling so good
Nine in the Afternoon, Panic! At the Disco
25. Oh, how it's been so long/We're so sorry we've been gone/We were busy writing songs for you
We're So Starving, Panic! At The Disco
26. The day's last one-way ticket train pulls in/We smile for the casual closure capturing.
27. When I see your smile/Tears roll down my face/I can't replace/And now that I'm strong, I have figured out
28. Ab heute sind die Tage nur noch halb so lang/Zum Lachen gibt es gar nichts mehr/Gestern war vor einhunderttausend Jahren (Good luck with that one!)
29. It's all a game of this or that/Now versus then/Better off against worse for wear
30. He's a stranger to some and a vision to none/He can never get enough, get enough of the one
Monday, February 23, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
The Cookies on the Dark Side are Really Good
Well, the gas tank thing isn't as bad as it could have been - we can patch the tank instead of buy a new one, which brings my dreaded anticipated cost down from $400 to $60. The patch itself won't be over $10, but I had to pay for the gas for Dad to take it to our mechanic (the one he trusts is 45 minutes away) and to go to class. So that's one depressing thing off my plate.
And another thing lit up my day: ICE CREAM WAS ON SALE!!!!! Instead of $4 for the fancy ice cream pints, it was $1. I decided I deserved a little comfort food, so I got some. So there :-P
In other news that no one cares about, I'm brushing up on my Linux command line skills, so I can impress people with things like:
chmod a+x-r *.sh
or
sudo mkfs.ext2 /dev/sdb2
or other things that look like they mean "TYPE ME IF YOU WANT YOUR COMPUTER TO EXPLODE!"
Yesterday was Sabotage Day in Software class. This means that each group had to switch computers with another group, and break Windows. Then, each group would go back to the computer and fix them. We'd all done backups and such in previous classes, so recovery wouldn't be an issue if we really messed them up. But we tried.
**WARNING - GEEK HUMOUR AHEAD PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK**
I am a part of the only group with three people; all others have two. And, to bring imbalance to it all, my group contains three people that know computers really well. One is a mostly-Mac person, one is a mostly-Windows person, and I am a mostly-Linux person. Together, we're rather formidable. We exchanged computers wit a group with one guy that really knows what he's doing, and another guy that has no clue what's going on. We decided to have no mercy. Even though you probably won't appreciate how evil I was (the fun kind of evil), I will describe how we tormented the computer, with hopefully non-geek translations in parentheses, 'cause I'm nice that way.
I happened to have a Linux Live CD handy, so I booted from that (Instead of starting Windows, I can start Linux on a CD without installing it). The first thing we did is shrink the partition to the minimum size (Made the hard drive think it was full). This was a red herring - it wouldn't actually cause problems, but he might think it's the cause. The next thing we did was delete the bootable flag on the partition (This would make the computer think that there's no hard drive, and would not start Windows). Last but not least, we deleted the entire registry (In other words, broke Windows so badly that if he couldn't find his backup, he'd have to install it all over).
When we got back to our computer, we found out that he'd replaced the boot.ini (Made it so the hard drive couldn't find Windows), which was easy enough to fix by copying an old boot.ini over it, once we figured out what he'd actually done (which took a while, I must admit). Next, he'd randomly deleted some of the registry, but we just replaced that with our backup. Lastly, he had deleted all but one user, but that was easier to fix, since we just made them again.
Meanwhile, he was still trying to figure out why he was getting the message "No bootable drive found." As I said, he knows what he's doing, and he also had a Linux Live CD, but still missed the bootable flag. He kept trying to restore backups, recover the system, all to no avail. We were all having fun watching, and he was having fun trying to fix it, and the teacher and lab assistant both laughed evilly when I told them what we did (Did I mention I love this class?)
Finally, when there was ten minutes left in the class, I showed him what we did (to the bootable flag anyways) and let him fix it. He then had to deal with the registry of course, but that was comparitively easy.
So... it was a lot more fun to be there, especially if you like geeky things like that. But the summary is I had FUN in class yesterday.
And another thing lit up my day: ICE CREAM WAS ON SALE!!!!! Instead of $4 for the fancy ice cream pints, it was $1. I decided I deserved a little comfort food, so I got some. So there :-P
In other news that no one cares about, I'm brushing up on my Linux command line skills, so I can impress people with things like:
chmod a+x-r *.sh
or
sudo mkfs.ext2 /dev/sdb2
or other things that look like they mean "TYPE ME IF YOU WANT YOUR COMPUTER TO EXPLODE!"
Yesterday was Sabotage Day in Software class. This means that each group had to switch computers with another group, and break Windows. Then, each group would go back to the computer and fix them. We'd all done backups and such in previous classes, so recovery wouldn't be an issue if we really messed them up. But we tried.
**WARNING - GEEK HUMOUR AHEAD PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK**
I am a part of the only group with three people; all others have two. And, to bring imbalance to it all, my group contains three people that know computers really well. One is a mostly-Mac person, one is a mostly-Windows person, and I am a mostly-Linux person. Together, we're rather formidable. We exchanged computers wit a group with one guy that really knows what he's doing, and another guy that has no clue what's going on. We decided to have no mercy. Even though you probably won't appreciate how evil I was (the fun kind of evil), I will describe how we tormented the computer, with hopefully non-geek translations in parentheses, 'cause I'm nice that way.
I happened to have a Linux Live CD handy, so I booted from that (Instead of starting Windows, I can start Linux on a CD without installing it). The first thing we did is shrink the partition to the minimum size (Made the hard drive think it was full). This was a red herring - it wouldn't actually cause problems, but he might think it's the cause. The next thing we did was delete the bootable flag on the partition (This would make the computer think that there's no hard drive, and would not start Windows). Last but not least, we deleted the entire registry (In other words, broke Windows so badly that if he couldn't find his backup, he'd have to install it all over).
When we got back to our computer, we found out that he'd replaced the boot.ini (Made it so the hard drive couldn't find Windows), which was easy enough to fix by copying an old boot.ini over it, once we figured out what he'd actually done (which took a while, I must admit). Next, he'd randomly deleted some of the registry, but we just replaced that with our backup. Lastly, he had deleted all but one user, but that was easier to fix, since we just made them again.
Meanwhile, he was still trying to figure out why he was getting the message "No bootable drive found." As I said, he knows what he's doing, and he also had a Linux Live CD, but still missed the bootable flag. He kept trying to restore backups, recover the system, all to no avail. We were all having fun watching, and he was having fun trying to fix it, and the teacher and lab assistant both laughed evilly when I told them what we did (Did I mention I love this class?)
Finally, when there was ten minutes left in the class, I showed him what we did (to the bootable flag anyways) and let him fix it. He then had to deal with the registry of course, but that was comparitively easy.
So... it was a lot more fun to be there, especially if you like geeky things like that. But the summary is I had FUN in class yesterday.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Dammit, Murphy, you weren't supposed to listen!
As of waking up this morning, life is hell.
Somehow in the course of driving home last night, my gas tank decided it wanted some air. I had heard a big *thunk* and pulled over to see what it could have been. I never saw anything in the road ahead of me, nor in the rear-view mirror. I thought I had hit a pothole (without feeling a jolt though) and the hubcap had fallen off or something. I checked, and nothing seemed to be missing or broken. Until my dad woke me up saying the car had a leak, and the once nearly-full tank was down to a quarter, and $50 was sitting in a puddle on our driveway.
It's a good thing I didn't actually have to go anywhere today, but that doesn't make the cost of this repair any easier. I'd just sold a computer to get closer to the goal of buying my own car (Did I mention this is my dad's car, so he's more pissed than I am?), and this'll probably take all that and then some. Not to mention the fact that he was going to take it to get new tires today, but instead is taking up the whole day going to the other house to get the flatbed trailer.
Add to that the general depression of constantly listening to the news, and the fact that I forgot to copy my homework from school to my computer, so I have to start all over... yeah.
Y'know, I wanted to spend the night at my aunt's last night. If I had, this wouldn't have happened. I hate it when you can pinpoint a certain action and still cannot do a thing about it.
I'm still 100% jobless, and I have no good leads at the moment. I'm living off of the Pell grant, which can last me another couple months, if I buy nothing but gas and a meal a week (I have class from 1PM to 9PM at Delta, so I need to buy dinner there, or go without food. Sometimes it's the latter). Maybe less, depending on how much it is to fix the car. Once that's gone... I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I guess that lasts me to the end of the semester, but after that, I'm jobless, broke, and unable to fix either of those.
I have no idea what I can do.
Somehow in the course of driving home last night, my gas tank decided it wanted some air. I had heard a big *thunk* and pulled over to see what it could have been. I never saw anything in the road ahead of me, nor in the rear-view mirror. I thought I had hit a pothole (without feeling a jolt though) and the hubcap had fallen off or something. I checked, and nothing seemed to be missing or broken. Until my dad woke me up saying the car had a leak, and the once nearly-full tank was down to a quarter, and $50 was sitting in a puddle on our driveway.
It's a good thing I didn't actually have to go anywhere today, but that doesn't make the cost of this repair any easier. I'd just sold a computer to get closer to the goal of buying my own car (Did I mention this is my dad's car, so he's more pissed than I am?), and this'll probably take all that and then some. Not to mention the fact that he was going to take it to get new tires today, but instead is taking up the whole day going to the other house to get the flatbed trailer.
Add to that the general depression of constantly listening to the news, and the fact that I forgot to copy my homework from school to my computer, so I have to start all over... yeah.
Y'know, I wanted to spend the night at my aunt's last night. If I had, this wouldn't have happened. I hate it when you can pinpoint a certain action and still cannot do a thing about it.
I'm still 100% jobless, and I have no good leads at the moment. I'm living off of the Pell grant, which can last me another couple months, if I buy nothing but gas and a meal a week (I have class from 1PM to 9PM at Delta, so I need to buy dinner there, or go without food. Sometimes it's the latter). Maybe less, depending on how much it is to fix the car. Once that's gone... I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. I guess that lasts me to the end of the semester, but after that, I'm jobless, broke, and unable to fix either of those.
I have no idea what I can do.
Monday, February 16, 2009
IZ MAH BURFDAY!!!!1!
I promise that's the only LOLspeak I'll use. Ever. Until next time, when I forget this promise.
I am now 20 years old. In fact, as of writing this sentence, I have been 20 for 9 minutes. The best part? I can go on forums I used to love that are now overrun with illiterate teenagers, and mumble "Those damn teenagers..." without implicitly condemning myself.
I shall enjoy this.
I am now 20 years old. In fact, as of writing this sentence, I have been 20 for 9 minutes. The best part? I can go on forums I used to love that are now overrun with illiterate teenagers, and mumble "Those damn teenagers..." without implicitly condemning myself.
I shall enjoy this.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Playlists
So.
I decided to start making playlists based on my friends. About half an hour ago. Friday nights are dangerous times for me to be both bored and thoughtful.
The songs vary drastically, as do my friends. The songs are taken either from reminding me of specific moments with the friend, or the lyrics make me instantly think of them.
So far I have five playlists created, though some of them currently have only one song in them. Not that that's the only song that reminds me of them, it's just all I could think of at the top of my head.
I currently have the following playlists:
There are some friends that need two or three playlists, I think. Or one really, really long and varied one. Because people change. Or you get to know them better. Or both. And yet some people can be explained with a single song, or very close. And still more... you just can't find a song to fit. Yet. Give me time. I'll make one up if I have to.
Why am I blogging about this? Because I wonder who will comment back and ask "So, what song reminds you of me, huh?"
I decided to start making playlists based on my friends. About half an hour ago. Friday nights are dangerous times for me to be both bored and thoughtful.
The songs vary drastically, as do my friends. The songs are taken either from reminding me of specific moments with the friend, or the lyrics make me instantly think of them.
So far I have five playlists created, though some of them currently have only one song in them. Not that that's the only song that reminds me of them, it's just all I could think of at the top of my head.
I currently have the following playlists:
- Don't Die In The Pudding!
- Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?
- Giselle!
- Redemption
- Rotten Apples
There are some friends that need two or three playlists, I think. Or one really, really long and varied one. Because people change. Or you get to know them better. Or both. And yet some people can be explained with a single song, or very close. And still more... you just can't find a song to fit. Yet. Give me time. I'll make one up if I have to.
Why am I blogging about this? Because I wonder who will comment back and ask "So, what song reminds you of me, huh?"
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Paging Mr. Murphy
YES! It's a non-dark color scheme! Mostly because Blogger kept saying "UPGRADE YOUR TEMPLATE IT'S SO TOTALLY AWESOME IF YOU DO!" so I upgraded and I'm tooo lazy to tweak it at the moment. It needed to be refreshed anyways. I'm just doing it bits and pieces at a time.
I know that after writing the following sentence, Murphy's Law will sneak up behind me, trip me into mud puddle, trample over me, laugh, and gather a crowd to see just as I realize it is one of those nightmares where you realize you're walking around naked (which I've never actually had come to think of it), but I'll say it anyways.
It can't get much better than this.
Well, I know it can get better, but not by much. I'm feeling almost completely better (Though the Day-Quil and Sudafed might have something to do with that), and my brain is no longer hurting from caffeine withdrawl. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that when I got sick that Pepsi just killed my throat, and so I had to choose between prolonging the cold as well as having a raw throat, or three days of pounding headaches and a messed up sleep schedule. Considering that my sleep schedule was messed up anyways, and adding a headache was just another symptom, I let go of my caffeine, and where was I again? Oh, yes. After I felt better I had more Pepsi though, just not as much as before. Though you might have guessed that based on the previous sentence.
It's been a good day. Sickness almost gone, just enough left that you remember the illness and appreciate being healthy. And then you go and ruin your health all over again by buying the pizza you've been craving for all week. Well, that's what I did, anyways. IT TASTED SO GOOD!!!! Not only that, but my ears no longer are hurting from being stuffed up, so listening to music wasn't agony. And I felt nostalgic for my childhood, so I'm currently listening to the Prarie Home Companion Annual Joke Show. Enough corny jokes to last all year (Example: What do you call a doctor that graduated at the bottom of his class? A doctor), and it lets me pretend I don't have a care in the world. Doesn't happen that often any more.
Besides that, I've also been reading a bunch of Terry Pratchett. Been a fairly productive day in the "I'm putting off homework and other responsibilities" sense of productive.
Hey. A blog entry without a rant. I'm slacking.
I know that after writing the following sentence, Murphy's Law will sneak up behind me, trip me into mud puddle, trample over me, laugh, and gather a crowd to see just as I realize it is one of those nightmares where you realize you're walking around naked (which I've never actually had come to think of it), but I'll say it anyways.
It can't get much better than this.
Well, I know it can get better, but not by much. I'm feeling almost completely better (Though the Day-Quil and Sudafed might have something to do with that), and my brain is no longer hurting from caffeine withdrawl. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that when I got sick that Pepsi just killed my throat, and so I had to choose between prolonging the cold as well as having a raw throat, or three days of pounding headaches and a messed up sleep schedule. Considering that my sleep schedule was messed up anyways, and adding a headache was just another symptom, I let go of my caffeine, and where was I again? Oh, yes. After I felt better I had more Pepsi though, just not as much as before. Though you might have guessed that based on the previous sentence.
It's been a good day. Sickness almost gone, just enough left that you remember the illness and appreciate being healthy. And then you go and ruin your health all over again by buying the pizza you've been craving for all week. Well, that's what I did, anyways. IT TASTED SO GOOD!!!! Not only that, but my ears no longer are hurting from being stuffed up, so listening to music wasn't agony. And I felt nostalgic for my childhood, so I'm currently listening to the Prarie Home Companion Annual Joke Show. Enough corny jokes to last all year (Example: What do you call a doctor that graduated at the bottom of his class? A doctor), and it lets me pretend I don't have a care in the world. Doesn't happen that often any more.
Besides that, I've also been reading a bunch of Terry Pratchett. Been a fairly productive day in the "I'm putting off homework and other responsibilities" sense of productive.
Hey. A blog entry without a rant. I'm slacking.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Historians are Dumber Versions of Philosophers
Please forgive this rather drugged-up essay of random proportions. I assure you, it all made complete sense when I wrote it, which should actually be really terrifying, but we'll see when I'm better. I am sitting in bed at 10:24 PM, having just had my latest dose of Ny-Quil and Sudafed, as I am sick. I don't think it's the flu, as the last time I had that I was unconscious for at least 24 hours. No, this is simply a very persistant cold that deftly crept up on me on Friday, and then fully ambushed my senses on Saturday. It is now Monday night, and I am still going downhill, though at a snails pace. I west to class today, zoned out on medication, having mom drive me there and pick me up (I've found that even Benadryl has a nasty effect on my driving abilities, and the bumper of the car of a nasty lady at my former place of emplyment can attest to that). Luckily, no class tomorrow, and I am once again finding a benefit to unemployment.
I have also found that a cure for sinus congestion-induced insomnia is listening to an audiobook of George Orwell's 1984; which, along with listeneng to talk radio against my will all day, is the basis for the following rant. I have the foresight to use spell-check though, so it won't be too bad. Gramatically, I mean. Subject-wise... did I meniton I had Ny-Quil? Ye minions of Xendor, I wonder what miniscule subjects would intrigue me if I did real drugs.
And now for something completely different...
History. It's a funny thing. A class you had for years in school, probably one you dreaded and procrastinated the most with homework. The war of 1812. The Great Depression. World War II. George Washington. Abraham Lincoln. Franklin D. Roosevelt. Stalin. Hitler. Mao.
All these little blurbs floating about in your head from history class, that your brain stubbornly refuses to forget. In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. The Holocaust was bad. The New Deal was good.
Ever stop to think about what history really is?
Probably not. You're a normal person. Bu I'm not, so I'll continue rambling.
History is keeping facts we want, and discarding those we don't. Often, we make up facts to replace those cast aside. In large or small ways, history is as much a work of fiction as any random book on your shelf. Especially if it's a history book.
What strikes me as funny is how historians love to use personal journals as historical references. For one thing, whoever wrote that journal was only writing it for themselves... or if they were writing for others, they skewed the facts even more. I for one know that my journal isn't the most factually accurate nor balanced piece of writing out there. Even if I write about an event moments after it happens, I can't remember everything, and I usually don't write until a day or two after. And, well, I tend to exaggerate. A lot. I like literary drama. The thing is, when I go back and read my journal, exaggeration or no, I can still remember whatever event as if it had just happened. I don't write everything down, just small bits of it, and they trigger the entire memory. Yet if someone else were to read my journal, it would just seem haphazard musings, and could probably be described as angsty (then again, what isn't these days?). But if I were to scribble out something about a historically significant event, or were to become famous, a historian of 25, 50, or 100 years from now would find my journal, call his fellow historians over to marvel at this spectacular discovery, slowly open the yellowed, aging pages, and stare in confusion at what appears to be mad ink scratchings made by a rabid cat.
When they finally figure out that they were holding it upside down, and can find someone that can decipher my atrocious* handwriting, they might find something they deem historically significant.
Suppose, in 50 years, a historian finds my diary and is researching 9/11. It's about as relevant to them as Pearl Harbor is for us today, namely the fact that it is only mentioned by old people, and history textbooks. The journal they find will not be my current wonderful Moleskie notebook, but a dollar-store version, with the generic diary lock that can be picked by any 9-year-old and a paperclip (speaking from experience) and a fluffy kitten on the front. But it's a primary source! ritten at the time! It must be relevant! So the historian opens it up and reads**:
It seems utterly absurd, and yet that's exactly what they do.
As for the throwing out of facts, don't be surprised if 50 years from now, the same textbook mentioned before reads something like this:
My point is... heck, do I really need a point? It's time for another dose of Ny-Quil. The first one isn't working fast enough. But my point is that I'm sick of politics and the "history" and precedents we keep hearing about.
Meh. I really should learn to rant in private. 'Scuse me, the medicine cabinet and I have an appointment.
*As has been mentioned, some have complimented the asthetics of my handwriting. Unfortunately, these eople never actually read what I write, so they don't know how illegible it truly is. It's like those letters you see from the 1800's in the background af "historical" documentaries as someone reads them aloud. Oh, sure, someone was able to read them, but they're also paid to decipher hieroglyphics. It's the same thing. Pretty, but as useful as Swahili to a normal person. In any case, this is why I never bothered creating a code to write with.
** Yes, this is my actual diary entry. I found it. It was in my closet along with my other half-finished and barely started journals. Still just as easy to open the lock. And still as pathetically boring as the rest. My journals don't realy get interesting until last year, and even then it's more like "HAHAHA!!! Wow, that's pathetically funny!" kind of interesting.
I have also found that a cure for sinus congestion-induced insomnia is listening to an audiobook of George Orwell's 1984; which, along with listeneng to talk radio against my will all day, is the basis for the following rant. I have the foresight to use spell-check though, so it won't be too bad. Gramatically, I mean. Subject-wise... did I meniton I had Ny-Quil? Ye minions of Xendor, I wonder what miniscule subjects would intrigue me if I did real drugs.
And now for something completely different...
History. It's a funny thing. A class you had for years in school, probably one you dreaded and procrastinated the most with homework. The war of 1812. The Great Depression. World War II. George Washington. Abraham Lincoln. Franklin D. Roosevelt. Stalin. Hitler. Mao.
All these little blurbs floating about in your head from history class, that your brain stubbornly refuses to forget. In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. The Holocaust was bad. The New Deal was good.
Ever stop to think about what history really is?
Probably not. You're a normal person. Bu I'm not, so I'll continue rambling.
History is keeping facts we want, and discarding those we don't. Often, we make up facts to replace those cast aside. In large or small ways, history is as much a work of fiction as any random book on your shelf. Especially if it's a history book.
What strikes me as funny is how historians love to use personal journals as historical references. For one thing, whoever wrote that journal was only writing it for themselves... or if they were writing for others, they skewed the facts even more. I for one know that my journal isn't the most factually accurate nor balanced piece of writing out there. Even if I write about an event moments after it happens, I can't remember everything, and I usually don't write until a day or two after. And, well, I tend to exaggerate. A lot. I like literary drama. The thing is, when I go back and read my journal, exaggeration or no, I can still remember whatever event as if it had just happened. I don't write everything down, just small bits of it, and they trigger the entire memory. Yet if someone else were to read my journal, it would just seem haphazard musings, and could probably be described as angsty (then again, what isn't these days?). But if I were to scribble out something about a historically significant event, or were to become famous, a historian of 25, 50, or 100 years from now would find my journal, call his fellow historians over to marvel at this spectacular discovery, slowly open the yellowed, aging pages, and stare in confusion at what appears to be mad ink scratchings made by a rabid cat.
When they finally figure out that they were holding it upside down, and can find someone that can decipher my atrocious* handwriting, they might find something they deem historically significant.
Suppose, in 50 years, a historian finds my diary and is researching 9/11. It's about as relevant to them as Pearl Harbor is for us today, namely the fact that it is only mentioned by old people, and history textbooks. The journal they find will not be my current wonderful Moleskie notebook, but a dollar-store version, with the generic diary lock that can be picked by any 9-year-old and a paperclip (speaking from experience) and a fluffy kitten on the front. But it's a primary source! ritten at the time! It must be relevant! So the historian opens it up and reads**:
9-11-01AH! HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE RIGHT HERE!!!!! I must publish my findings in an important thing!
Dear Diary,
The World Trade Center fell today. 2 planes were hi-jacked and 1 crashed into each tower. The same thing happened to the Pentagon, except it is still standing. 10,000 dead est. from the World Trade Center.
I am terrified. Who knows whan will happen next?
It seems utterly absurd, and yet that's exactly what they do.
As for the throwing out of facts, don't be surprised if 50 years from now, the same textbook mentioned before reads something like this:
Yes, that twelve-year-old girl was terrified for her life, thinking at any moment more white supremist terrorists could take over another airplane and crash it in her backyard. The entire country was held hostage by this fear of the group of terrorists, calling themselves The Capitalists. Meanwhile, our illustrious hero, Comrade Barack Obama, was working to defeat the leader of this terrorist organization, George Hussein W. Bush.What, haven't you ever read 1984? Hell, haven't you ever read the New York Times? History is only taking the facts, squeezing out the parts the historians don't like, and adding a couple white lies to fill in the gaps. A generation later, no one knows the difference, and those that do and complain are hushed and sent off to assisted living facilities to eat Jell-O and soup and play Bingo.
My point is... heck, do I really need a point? It's time for another dose of Ny-Quil. The first one isn't working fast enough. But my point is that I'm sick of politics and the "history" and precedents we keep hearing about.
Meh. I really should learn to rant in private. 'Scuse me, the medicine cabinet and I have an appointment.
*As has been mentioned, some have complimented the asthetics of my handwriting. Unfortunately, these eople never actually read what I write, so they don't know how illegible it truly is. It's like those letters you see from the 1800's in the background af "historical" documentaries as someone reads them aloud. Oh, sure, someone was able to read them, but they're also paid to decipher hieroglyphics. It's the same thing. Pretty, but as useful as Swahili to a normal person. In any case, this is why I never bothered creating a code to write with.
** Yes, this is my actual diary entry. I found it. It was in my closet along with my other half-finished and barely started journals. Still just as easy to open the lock. And still as pathetically boring as the rest. My journals don't realy get interesting until last year, and even then it's more like "HAHAHA!!! Wow, that's pathetically funny!" kind of interesting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)