Most Dictatorial/Sorriest

I am sorry.

Wait, no, I am not. I have not posted for a while, suck it!

Sorry, I was trying to be aggressive. Erica has been hounding me to quit apologising every play we make on the pitch.

See, Erica is the one to aggress you; I am the one to caress you. Actually, literally. Erica is known to be impressive and scary and awesome and great, but scary. She commands the pitch. It may not seem like it, but trust us. I, on the other hand, stand there blubbering apologies as I pick up the bludger that just made high-speed contact with your left temple.

We make an interesting team.

Anyways, not the point of the post. This is being made to say, you guessed it, 'sorry' to you all avid readers, all six of you ("Hi, mum!") for not posting for ages. I have been busy, so busy, in fact, that I would let this blog slowly die under its cobwebs... meaning I have caught up on nearly every one of my started television programmes, and my bludger-throwing is getting quite a bit better (see, busy).

I doubt I will post too much more. I am going to leave this shell of a blog for later. Perhaps, one day, I may return to it, I do need to work on my writing, but today is not that day.

Anyhow, maybe I should, surprise surprise, stop procrastinating and get back to the real world. So, à bientôt my reader, to another day!

Shameless plug!

I am in the process of creating a transit plan, and I need all the information I can get. Here is a survey for citizens of the Coachella Valley. Please, take 5 minutes and fill this out. All the help I can get is wonderful!

Here it is!

My Future Family Size

I think my family size is now determined to be large (like Catholic-Irish large) just based on my inability to create normal-sized portions of meals I make. Seriously, tonight, for just myself, I made enough ratatouille to serve six. Granted, it will last the week, but still, I cannot, for the life of me, judge serving size, always to my detriment when I make enough to feed an army. So, it is done, I will have a large family just because of this.

Also, it was fun to photograph:

Arts One in a nutshell

I decided, in my procrastination* of packing for the summer, to lay out a quick guide to Arts One reading, group A. Since it is the second year of these readings, it is time for an adjustment of the book list, but here's to you hoping it won't change too much. Anyways, a flash guide to the reading list of 2011/2012:
*Also, don't do this too much. Soon, you will have accumulated days, not hours, on the couches in the commonsblock, most of which was watching reruns of Seinfeld and How I Met Your Mother, telling yourself that after just the next one you will write a paragraph or two, that inspiration is in that very paragraph, and you know, deep down, that it really isn't, but somehow you will find a way to finish just before the time runs out and you will make it back to bed with the bittersweet feeling that although you finished a not-quite as good as it can be paper, you will be going to sleep and happily forget how miserable you were until the week after next when the cycle renews itself.

Book of Genesis
Eat an apple, go through remarkable pain once a month–for women only. For men, you get a slap on the wrist and an eternity with women who now have this monthly gut-punching.

Kant What is Enlightenment/Conjectural Beginning of Human History
Giving the finger to God and getting kicked out of Eden? Good thing.

Irvine Socrates on Trial
...cannot remember ...come back

Plato Euthyphro
...cannot remember

Sophocles Oedipus
Parents worried that their son would sleep with his mother and kill his father, so, of course, they made sure of it happening. They find out, it gets bloody. Kids are probably scarred for life.

Seneca Oedipus Tyrannus
See Sophocles, except make it into a soap opera and add more vaginal stabbings.

Plato The Republic
Philosophers are the best, everyone else are just sheep. We have metals in blood, meaning if you do not have a good metal, you are screwed. Also, man escapes from cave in Allegory of the Cave; men are given the chance to choose good/evil, they choose the opposite everytime they die, philosophers are the only ones who know what's up, of course.

Machiavelli The Prince
Lie, cheat, steal, and know your history to be a good prince. Don't be an idiot.

Marlowe Doctor Faustus
It may seem like a good idea to get everything you wanted for, you know, nothing big, but just your soul... it's not. Generally, trades with the devil, not a wise idea.

Brecht Life of Galileo
The Church is always right, even when it's wrong. Galileo was essentially given a horse head under his covers to shut up.

Shakespeare Hamlet
Doesn't do anything, ever... and when he does, he fucks shit up. All because he is an emo child.

Rousseau Discours on the Origin of Inequality
We were better off as post-Eden apes.

Shelley Frankenstein
Man builds monster, realises he built monster, chaos.

Lippman The Scopes Trial
The American South was a scary place.

Nietzsche On the Geneology of Morality
...forgot/no fucking clue

Wells Island of Dr. Moreau
Cutting open animals while still alive, good thing?

Chopin The Awakening
Spoiler: She kills herself.

Freud Dora, Sexuality, etc.
Subconsciously, all you want to do is sleep around with your father (or mother).

Foucault History of Sexuality Vol. I
Is the war on sexuality being waged? This one was a bugger...

Plath Bell Jar
...

Else The Case of Robert J Oppenheimer
Man builds bomb, realises he built bomb, chaos.

DeLillo End Zone
A stoned football player questions football.

Walter The Zero
Did not get this far in my readings.

McCarthy The Road
All hope is lost... Also, humans will scare the shit out of you after this one.


I will come back to revise and finish this, but, for now, that is pretty much Group A's list.

Summer Project

Just like "Julie & Julia," Aurora and I have a little blogging project that we will be doing this summer. In my obsession with everything Columbia (I mean, who takes a picture of Columbia St. and Broadway... in Vancouver?!), I was browsing the Lit Hum reading list and noticed how similar it was, in structure, to my Arts One class. Brushing off the bit of pride, it became a personal goal of mine to try and read through that list, a list towering alongside my Arts One education, a right Seneca and Sophocles. Well, in telling Aurora, we took the challenge together and, this summer, we will be mixing sharp wit with some good, old-fashion discussion. We also rose the stakes, seeing some of the selections as 'simple' (or rather seeing the Gospel week and looking back on our Catholic education), and decided to raise their books with ours along with a great film ending each section. So, without further ado, here is the tentative structure of our plan:

Section I (6 May - 20 May):
Homer Iliad
Hymn to Demeter
Homer Odyssey

Film:

Section II (21 May - 7 June):
[I needed to extend it because of my Hungarian class]
Herodotus Histories
Aeschylus The Oresteia
Sophocles Oedipus
Seneca Oedipus Tyrannus

Film:

Section III (8 June - 22 June):
Euripides Medea
Thucydides History of the Peloponnesian War
Aristophanes Lysistrata
Plato Symposium

Film: Manhattan / Annie Hall [Woodie Allen]

Section IV (23 June - 7 July):
Book of Genesis
Book of Job
Gospel of Luke
Gospel of John
Selected works from the Quran
Selected works from the Torah

Film:

Section V (8 July - 22 July):
Virgil Aeneid
Augustine Confessions
Dante Inferno

Film:

Section VI (23 July - 6 August):
Boccaccio The Decameron
Montaigne Essays
Shakespeare King Lear

Film:

Section VII (7 August - 21 August):
Cervantes Don Quixote
Shakespear Hamlet
Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice

Film:

Section VIII (22 August - 5 September):
Dostoevsky Crime and Punishment
Woolf To the Lighthouse
Nietzsche On the Geneology of Morality

Film:

Section IX (5 September - 19 September):
Sartre Being and Nothingness
Foucault Histoire de la Sexualité/History of Sexuality
Kant Critique of Pure Reason


Film:

The Battle of the Stations

Have you ever read something that you just needed to share it? Mixing transit, New York, Columbia, wit, and education, this article captured my attention such that I needed to share it, not just wanted to. So, here it is, in its entirety. Enjoy!

A Battle of Subway Stops—Is 116th Superior to 110th?

Victoria Wills and Mark Hay engage in a battle of local subway stops. Read this and more in the upcoming April issue of The Blue & White.

Illustration by Adela Yawitz, CC '12

AFFIRMATIVE—116th or Bust
by Victoria Wills

Mark asked me to commit.

He wanted me to pick a side, buy a ticket, and follow him all the way. What Mark failed to mention is that once you’re in, the only way out is the way you came. He asked me to meet him at the 110th stop.

It’s not the first time he’s pulled this. For weeks, Mark has tried yanking me away from 116th. Which is to say, distancing me from all that is beautiful, all that is familiar, all that sits close to home. In both proximity and aesthetics, 116th personifies what I value; Mark has proven time and time again that he just doesn’t give a shit.

A relationship means meeting in the middle, and Mark can’t seem to grasp that. Things have to be his way. If he opened his mind for even a moment, he might realize that there is absolutely no logical reason to walk six extra blocks to the subway.

Sure, he’ll probably give you some anachronistic, aphoristic wisdom about the merits of strolling Broadway—some of that Baudelairean hogwash he tends to spew. For all his talk of superiority, Mark is no more than a manipulative, pseudointellectual name-dropper, unable to face reality.

Fine. I can play his game. To borrow Mark’s pretentious rhetoric: why, if more intellectually stimulating, does the journey to the 110th dump the unlucky rider in The Cave? The 110th stop is claustrophobic. It is poorly lit, noisy, and has no windows to the outside world. Devoid of the lofty arched ceilings and tiled mosaic of my beloved 116th, that southerly station feels placeless—a dark world of meaningless shadows.

But petty intellection misses the mark: my opponent is entirely oblivious. Doesn’t he see that I need my space, that I need options? I take comfort in knowing that, having entered a station with someone on the east side of Broadway, I can still go uptown while she goes down; I can even leave the station entirely. I like knowing that there are two staircases, and I that can choose either one. I like knowing that even after a 45-minute trip from Brooklyn, I can duck out at the 115th exit. It’s about the high ceilings; it’s about having room to breathe.

If anything, Mark’s choice of 110th over 116th reflects his poor understanding of what a girl wants, what a girl needs. A good relationship with your subway station is of the utmost importance.

Like Mark, 110th comes on all too strong. 116th eases you into things. It’s like the mandatory 24-hour period before calling after the first date.

Like Mark, the 110th stop steals you away from yourself. At 116th, you can hear birds, smell the NUTZ4NUTZ, feel sunlight, and see flakes of snow fall through the metal grates. It allows you to be in the relationship, but keep your independent interests. It doesn’t go into your iTunes and delete all your guilty-pleasure ’90s girl-pop.

Like Mark, 110th is the paranoid boyfriend who doesn’t let you chat up the guy in the ticket booth.

In fact, the station is so hostile, ticket-sellers don’t deign to set up shop there. Sometimes you need that face-to-face connection. I’m not asking for physical contact, but is it so bad to like a man in uniform?

At least tell me this: when you have $1.90 left on your Metrocards, who, Mark, will consolidate them? Not anyone at the 110th station, and certainly not me.

Illustration by Adela Yawitz, CC '12

NEGATIVE—110th All the Way
by Mark Hay

Victoria thinks I’m making this all about me, me, me. She acts like I’m trying to control her, to own her, to lock her down in this one-way stairway to what I presume she thinks is a living hell.

Well, though most Columbians do see it that way, the borderlands of 110th are not the River Lethe; each successive subway stop south of 116th is not another circle of Hell. Manhattan Valley was not laid out by Dante Alighieri. Nor is it about commitment. My insistence on using the 110th subway stop is about self-respect, dedication, and an everyday practical education that Little Miss Columbia Bubble 2014 needs to drill into her head if she wants to make it in the real world.

Because that’s what the 110th stop is: The Real World. Where people stop being polite and start getting real. Or at least they stop being anthropology majors and start getting real jobs.

Victoria tries to convince me to meet her at 116th because it has choices. It’s a station made for someone who comes tearing in at the last minute, having miscalculated the time, but knows that just so long as they make it to any corner of 116th, they’ll be fine. But 110th takes preci- sion. It takes situational awareness and knowledge of one’s geography.

110th is for those who sharpen their minds in their everyday lives and believe in forethought and punctuality. 116th is for people who can’t live without iPhone navigation and a constant connection to GCal.

But, Victoria protests, it’s not all about the entrances. It’s about proximity. It makes no sense for her to hoof it all the way to 110th. And to that I say for shame, Victoria, for shame. You are truly a sloth. I bet you order all of your food via GrubHub. We scholars are an atrophied breed. If you have ever stood out front of Butler, you will realize that all the students within and hipsters without are chicken-legged and brittle. They hobble on their stilt-shins over to the nearest subway station and cling to the pole for dear life. But those who choose 110th, regardless of (or in fact due to) its distance, are of a heartier stock. We live our lives with health in mind. We are the Greek ideal of balance between physical and mental education; Juvenal’s mens sana in corpore sano. I especially pride myself on the maintenance of calves that can only be adequately described as majestic. True, we are Columbians, and 116th is “our spot.” But what does it do to us to linger under- ground and stare at walls glorifying our names, to see our institution hailed as the ultimate end of all travels? 116th is the death of humility and the greatest ego boost ever to poison Morningside Heights.

110th is escape from the Ivory Tower. It is the physical manifestation of its riders’ balanced minds and bodies and their noble, humble spirit. 110th is a reality check with regard to one’s place at Columbia; it asks that acute attention be paid to even our smallest actions. It challenges our identities and pathetic Ivy superiority complexes.

110th is sublime, profound. And that’s why my love of the 110th stop makes me so much better than you, Victoria. It makes me so much better as a human being. So much better.

Original article can be viewed here: The Bwog.

I do not generally do this...

This video is just absolutely stunning. Tears were forming in my eyes. Please, just take two minutes, watch this.