The Tale of the Broken Rib

So, I was worried that Thiago and I had run out of topics for our meeting today, but boy was I in for a treat. I started off the meeting by arriving late (payback) at 1873, and opened with a classic overview of the weather patterns that Texas was experiencing. We shared a few sentences about that, before Thiago whipped out his iPhone to show me the weather for the weekend, which shocked me because tomorrow was a high of 18!
Celsius, Sarah, Celsius.
Anyway, after that, Thiago congratulated me on my recent SGA win, and we briefly discussed what that entailed. I told him basically what I do is take complaints and try to fix them, so if he had any, lay them on me! Thiago and I share the basic philosophy that we don't enjoy complaining, so that conversation ended quickly.
I don't know how exactly we got started on rugby talk, but let me tell you I'm glad we did. Thiago played rugby for a few years, up until some injuries prevented him from continuing. I probed in and asked the specificity of his pain, and was I in for a treat!
"Don't judge me...." he started off his story. When those are the first words, you know you're in for a treat. He proceeded to tell me the tale of his broken ribs.
(Don't mind my creative writing mind embellishing a few details)
It was a dark and stormy late afternoon in San Paolo, Brazil. Our hero, Thiago, laced up his shoes and popped in his mouth guard, the only protection allowed in this hellish sport. He wiped his brow and strutted out of the locker room onto the field - his oyster, his battleground. Around him was his team of burly young men, anxious for an opportunity to express themselves in the only way then knew - rugby.
Who dare challenge these men?
Who dare place themselves up to the task?
"No man can beat us!" Was the team's battle cry, which, after this match, turned to an ironic Macbeth-esque flaw.
Suddenly, the other team appeared out of the mist.
20 burly, brawny, muscular, and terrifying players appeared... all harboring two X chromosomes.
Yeah. You read that right. The women's rugby team.
Never one to disrespect an opponent, the teams got to playing. It was soon seen that the women were in a league of their own, much stronger and faster than anyone could have imagined.
Our hero, sensing an opportunity to bring back glory to his team, ran toward the woman with the ball, and tackled her full on. Her weight and the ball came crushing down entirely onto our hero's right ribcage with an intensity that only a female rugby player can bring. Our hero, though in immense pain, did not cry out. In fact, he didn't stop playing. In fact, he rode home on the bus after the game. In fact, he went about his daily routine for the next two days. In fact, he went to a party the next night, and only after realizing that he was unable to laugh did he finally consider maybe a visit to the physician. In good spirits, he went to the doctor and was given a crushing blow to his ribs and ego- broken ribs. That meant no more rugby for him.
The end.
Thiago's version was a little less detailed, but I figured he deserved a real story.
After delving deeper into his past rugby life, I found out that he is really just "terrible" (his words, not mine) at sports. He injured his ankle in a game of volleyball about a year ago, and it still gives him some trouble to this day. Sports. Not his thing. Fair enough.
What IS his thing, though, is photography, as I said last time. He was generous enough to provide me with some business cards, which was super kind of him.
I told him I'd review his work and get back to him for our next and last meeting, where we will actually eat lunch together. We're both super psyched about it.
So, even though I'm getting ready to say bye to Thiago, with these cards I can always say Hello to Motta! (bad jokes on me tonight, everyone!)

Mr. Thiago Photo

Good news! My lack of preparation today actually paid off!
How so might you ask? Well, I scheduled another meeting with Thiago, finally, and did not use my months absence to create any sort of questions, themes, topics, or anything.
I was going in more unprepared than a native French speaker into the AP Spanish exam, but hey, I was going to do it live, and I did.
I comfortably slid into the warm and inviting booth at my favorite cafe and sports grill, 1873, and posted up to wait. Always fashionably late, Thiago jauntily strode in 17 minutes later, after braving the cold winds from outside. I waved, he waved, it was like nothing had changed, which it hadn't. I immediately dove in, searching my brain for bits and pieces of our previous conversations to draw upon. 
Darts.
What? yeah. Darts. Thiago went to Pittsburgh for a dart-throwing convention last month to help out one of his friends. There are such things as dart-throwing conventions. 
Bullseye, my friends!
So, Thiago spoke to me about his time spent there, and casually mentioned his interest in photography, of which I had previously been unaware. 
I jumped onto that topic and threw myself in. 
We discussed the nuances of film photogaphy, and the time and talent it takes to attempt to capture life on a slip of film. I don't know if you're well-versed in the art of photography, but it's pretty flashy.
Ok that was a terrible pun. Anyway,
Think about life pre-digital, and especially pre-iPhone. I have conveniently blocked out all memories of my life before Apple, and it's for that reason that I don't recall anything before the Christmas of 2011. How would you know if your picture turned out? How would you know if your sorority pose was perfectly thrown? How would you know if your hand wasn't awkwardly placed in an unflattering way?
YOU WOULDN'T.
Not until you took the effort to go through the process of developing your film, which, in my high school photo class, took days.
I "shutter" at the thought(!)
^not apologizing for that one, it's genius.
Anyway, Thiago and I continued to pour our feelings about photography out, and then he let it slip that he had a Facebook page dedicated to his art. I whipped it open in a "flash" (another one, check!!!) and pulled up his most recent pictures from the aforementioned dart convention. After looking through them, I can definitely say that Mr. Franca has an eye for the art. His use of depth and lighting really made his pictures stand out from just those of what the iPhone can take, or anything else. I praised his work and complimented him profusely. I was impressed!
I'm very passionate about photography, and I''m glad I was able to rekindle my obsession.
After that, we simply discussed plans for the future, summer, and everything in between. We're both very "in-the-moment" people, as in we don't exactly know what we'll be doing next, but I know for the both of us, it will be great.
We scheduled our last two meetings and said our goodbyes before he walked out the door into the frigid cold wintery April air, that I am currently procrastinating in 1873 to try to avoid.
All good things must come to an end, though, both this semester, and with this warmth. 
And I think something's burning in here.
Over n' Out!

Where in the World is Thiago Franca?

Good question.

We haven't met in a month.

It's okay though, we're working through it, and to quote Mr. Conversation Partner himself,

"One day we will be at the same place at same time"

One can only hope.

Until next time, when I hope I will have more to report.

Over 'n Out.

Too Much Wit for Just One Quote

This was probably the most difficult assignment that I've had to do for this class. 

How on EARTH am I supposed to pick ONE Mark Twain quote? That's like trying to pick out one gigantic diamond for your picture perfect wedding ring when you're swimming in a pool full of gems of equal weight and size, just different enough in tiny ways to be appreciated on different levels, both initially when one first views it, and then later, after given thought you see it in a completely new light, sending different sparkles outward into your world... 
whoops, got carried away.
Anyway, it's impossible to pick one. 
I could go with the classic Twain-ism, a simple one-liner that is easy to read, easy to remember, and easy to smile at his easy genius. For example

"A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read."

Classic Mark Twain, the man who himself composed at least 2 of the most widely read "classics" of the past few generations. Typical.

Or perhaps, a satirical comment on society itself, that leaves more than just a smile on the readers face, but a thought placed in their head. Example: 

"Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence in society."

Obvious cognitive shift. We were expecting a more literary second half of the quote that delved into how commodities and materials govern our lives and our status, but then he throws you for a loop and gives you the physical opposite. What a clown.

Mark Twain is also so well known and loved because of his personality.I can see him as being the "Juha of the USA," by the way that he is filled with quips of wisdom combined with bouts of hilarity and exaggerations, all rolled together with a one of a kind disposition. For example,

"I have been complimented myself a great many times, and they always embarrass me- I always feel they have not said enough"

His obvious ego is satirical and sarcastic, but it adds to the idea of his Juha-jokester persona. Also, cognitive shift and misdirection. How great.

Mark Twain was also a genius. He understood the world enough to make fun of it, like in my next example.

"where was the use, originally, in rushing this whole globe through in six days? it is likely that if more time had been taken, in the first place, the world would have been made right, and this ceaseless improving and repairing would not be necessary now."

What a timeless reflection on the state of the world that can be applied to any generation. That's why Mark Twain is such a classic- because he's such a classic. Redundant? Maybe. Repetitive? Possibly. But it's true- his quotes are ageless and always applicable. He's a fantastic humorist in the way that he can make his readers twist and turn their interpretations of his words to fit whatever state in which they find themselves. He makes smarter readers, which is a gift indeed. He rocks.

He also would be a really good teacher's assistant in this class, based on this quote about humor and how to properly tell a story: 

"To string incongruities and absurdities together in a wandering and sometimes purposeless way, and seem innocently unaware that they are absurdities, is the basis of the American art, if my position is correct. Another feature is the slurring of the point. I third is the dropping of a studied remark apparently without knowing it, as if one were thinking aloud. The fourth and the last is the pause."

Even Mr. Twain refers to the beautiful cognitive shift. Then it MUST be legit, right? 
Right.

I could take one person, living or dead, out to dinner, I would pick Mark Twain, and we would discuss just how greatly the reports of his death were exaggerated back then, and how accurate they were the second time around.

More Than Words.

What's funny?
Again I have to ask... what's funny?
This blog post won't be.
But for once, that's okay. 

This past weekend I attended Frog Camp Training and was given the opportunity to watch the TCU spoken word production called "More Than Words." It's sort of a rite of passage for all incoming freshmen to experience, and it centers around the power of words.
Words.
Words of hatred, words of fear, words of ignorance, intolerance, words that spread anger, and words that cause pain. Words that leave scars much deeper than skin.
Words that are more than words.
Words that are knives. Bombs. Gunshots ripping through the soul of a human. 
Words that are maimed, twisted, and turned into weapons of destruction.
They aren't just words.
They weren't just kidding.
In this class we haven't really delved deeper into the depths of the darker side of humor.
Who wants to face that? The fact that people can take something so beautiful and light and mutilate it into a channel of hate... it's not a laughing matter. 
They aren't just words.
They weren't just kidding.

It's only a joke, right?
As we've learned from our Humor Around the World presentations, each society seems to have their go-to group to place as the butt of their jokes. Some of these are silly examples of stereotypes that leave no lasting impression on the teller or audience... but sometimes they mean more.
Sometimes they're mean more than they're funny.
Sometimes jokes provide an opportunity to express a racial thought in a socially acceptable way.
Sometimes jokes provide the lighter fluid to ignite a fire of hate toward another group of people based on things the civil rights movement worked to counteract.

They aren't just words.
They weren't just kidding.

"Making fun" of someone is such an odd term. How can you "make fun" of another person, when the connotation is that the target is left hurting? Whose fun are you making? How is it "fun" if it causes pain? I don't see the fun. I see the pain. 


Sticks and Stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me.

Lies.
The amount of stories of bullying and teasing that lead to effects of depression and suicide are real.
The aftershock that words can leave on a person's psyche is real.

Everyone remembers some comment that affected them. That left them wondering "is it true?" or "does everyone think that?" Some comment that left them questioning themselves, and left them doubting. Left them crying, left them hurting. Left them a shell of what they once were.
Snide, sarcastic remarks that elicit a ripple effect on the recipient.

They aren't just words.
They weren't just kidding.

They're everywhere. Bullying and word based wars aren't left in the dramatic locker and lip-gloss filled days of seventh grade girl cliques. 
No.
They're here and now. In college campuses around the world.

Jokes, right?
It's just a party theme.
it's a joke.
I'm not really a racist!
That's so funny!
I was only joking.

well... that might be so, but just think.

Jokes are a catalyst of thought. 

Watch your thoughts. 
They become words. 
Watch your words. 
They become deeds.
Watch your deeds.
They become habits. 
Watch your habits. 
They become your character. 
Watch your character.
it becomes your destiny.


Personally, my destiny is to use words for good.
To use them to heal.
To use them to change the world.

words are powerful.
words are limitless.
words are 

more.

than.

words.

Library Lolz

I think I'm addicted to blogging. I was just deep into studying my Spanish vocab words, when suddenly  a thought popped into my head and I was unable to let it be swept under the metaphorical rug of my cranium. Like a hyperactive hamster in a spinning wheel, it would not relent. Yeah, out of all the metaphors in all the world, I chose that one. I needed to rush that was attained from putting finger tip to key, and my hands whipped open my computer and clicked my blog, incidentally now my number one visited site. I was given a blank sheet before I even knew I was done studying Spanish. 
Like I said, addicted. 
But, back to the thought that plagued me- the, as Vonnegut would say, "amber of the moment."
Something that gives me great joy, to the not-so-great joy of others, is pantomiming in the library.
I don't know why, maybe it's because I can't rely on vocal inflection to get my point across, but I find it completely acceptable and utterly necessary to over exaggerate every interaction with another person when confined within the walls of the Mary Coutt's Burnett Library. Just a moment ago, after waving to a friend, I pantomimed my goodbye as an epic scene as if I was losing her forever as she bravely walked weaponless into the ravaging battlefields of World War I, ne'er to return again.
Why?
Because it was funny.
I think, I probably just caused yet another disruption by breaking yet another cardinal rule of the quiet section. 
I'm notorious for that. Last semester I thought it was fun to find the loudest possible food to crunch on in the basement quiet-quiet section. My findings were:

1. Baby Carrots - the more bites utilized to consume the better
2. Granola bars - the extra crunchy kind that crumble into 10,000 pieces when you attempt to break them 
3. Pita Chips- every chip you grab is yet another excuse to crumple the bag and create extra noise
4. Whole apples. Large Red Delicious, if possible. 
5. Super fizzy soda that hisses every time you open the cap

I haven't been allowed back down there this semester, if that tells you anything.

Actually, it just scares the living daylights out of me, and is always way too hot or way too cold.

So, is everything just 10x funnier in the quiet section because it's not allowed to break down into gut busting giggles? 

It's taboo...

like the obscene humor we were talking about earlier.

it's the forbidden fruit.

Ok I should really stop this blog before I compare laughing in the quiet section to the fall of man in the Garden of Eden.

Also, I should really get back to that Spanish homework.

That's Punny!

I stumbled across one of the greatest wordplays I have ever read just a moment ago. It is as follows:

Mahatma Ghandi walked barefoot most of his life, which produced an impressive set of callouses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him very frail. And with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This quite literally makes him a "Super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis"

WOW.

THAT IS A PUN. 

Talk about your wordplay. That provides an extreme manipulation of the English language in order to produce a sentence that so closely sounds like Mary Poppin's favorite phrase, "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious." You know someone had to work to find similes, homonyms, and a somewhat believable story to twist those words, and it works so perfectly! 

Truly impressive, but I'm biased for puns. I live for them. My humor revolves around puns, or short quips followed by long groans. My world is a complex battlefield, full of plays on words and forced alterations of the English language to fit my fervent attempts at one-liners. Some people herald puns as the jokes of the feeble minded, or pitiful stabs at humor that end in blank stares with maybe one forced chuckle, if you’re lucky. However, I believe that a truly exceptional pun requires a more intelligent, in-depth understanding of multiple elements- like the English language and the subject you’re manipulating. My life without puns would be like a marathoner’s life without exercise- it wouldn’t “work out.”

Ex 1: Why did the pony cough? Because it was a "little horse!" 

In creating the perfect pun, one has to have an adept knowledge of the English language. You need to know the ins and outs of homophones and homonyms, combined with intentional malapropisms and discreet metonymies. An above average pun will draw on several of these factors, and will leave your listeners racking their brains in attempt to derive the humor and finally “get it.”  

 Ex 2:  Forget Louis the XIV, King Henry VIII was the real “son” king!

(Hint: King Louis XIV was called the “Sun King,” and King Henry VIII was intent on having a “son.”) 

So, as you can see, I live for these things. Puns are my thing, and without them, my life would be like a broken pencil. Downright "pointless."

Dorothy, Cows, and a lot of BBQ.

"Like so many Americans, she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops."
-Slaughterhouse Five

If I had to understand my life based on what kitschy items I stumbled upon in the KCI airport, I would be a very different human being indeed. Let me explain. Kansas' biggest selling points are as follows:

• Dorothy. If I lived my life based on this item, I would live like Dorothy. I would live on a farm, have a small dog, and be attacked by tornadoes every other Wednesday. My world would be black and white, (figuratively, I promise that Kansans do live in color) and I would dream of escaping to a world somewhere over the rainbow. I would be a naive simpleton, with brown hair and big blue eyes, singing away my sorrows and narrowly avoiding my crazy, bike-riding witch of a neighbor.

• Cows. So, if I constructed my life based off of this item, I would live a complete and "udder"-ly different life. (hahaha, I had to.) This shirt sets the stereotype of Kansas City, Missouri being a farmland full of cows, tractors, and hay. I would create a lifestyle based on this idea by conforming to the stereotype, and living on a farm, chewing a stick of hay out of the left side of my mouth, and rocking the denim overalls. I would own farm animals, provide for my own food by milking cows and raising chickens. I would drive a truck, and never wear shoes. I would be the Dorothy that people attribute Kansas to, even though this is ironically depicting Kansas City, Missouri. I still don't know how to explain the difference between Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Missouri, and I don't think I ever will.

• Barbecue. To quote my main man, Kansas City native rapper Tech n9ne, "I'm hella fine like the food at Ollie Gates." My last item is a postcard featuring Gates' signature slogan, "Hi, may I help you?" If you've ever eaten at Gates, you'll understand the meaning of this simple sentence. The workers yell (nicely) it at you as soon as you walk in the door, and expect your response in an order form to come whipping right back. (Tech N9ne would recommend the "strawberry soda, baked beans, and mixed plate.) Now, if I constructed my life based on this item, I would have diabetes. More importantly, though, I would have a very "others" driven state of mind. I would open every conversation with this simple question, and I would live to serve, if not with a heaping slab of Kansas City's finest ribs, than maybe a helping hand, or a hug.
• 

So, thankfully I don't live my life based on the items I discovered in the KCI gift shop, or else I would be a naive little farm girl who owned cows and was a doormat for everyone she met. Thankfully I don't conform to the misconstrued stereotypes of my hometown. 

I swear Kansas City is urban, cool, hip, fun, awesome, and a great place to be from... and NO, I didn't ride a tractor to school.

I took my horse and buggy, thank you.

Only joking!

April Fools?

What is April Fools day?
A day when you can mercilessly prey on the trust of your friends and sabotage relationships without worrying about their feelings? A day when you can ignore the rules of social norms and outwardly lie to the people you care about? A day when you can essentially mend any qualms with the slip of "April Fools!" afterward? It's ridiculous! Especially when the most popular "pranks" are just excuses to be mean in ways one usually cannot. A quick google of "pranks" brought up this example perfectly. 
Some of the most popular practical jokes are...

1. Not Tasty

Take a box full of candy you know the victim likes (Whoppers work good). Remove the candy and replace it with Play-Dough in the shape of candy. Watch him/her be surprised when they get offered Play-Dough candy! (Be careful not to let them actually eat it though!)"

how is that funny... you're simply forcing someone you care about to eat play doh. they were probably really excited about the candy and you just ruined their day, and your friendship. Jokes on you.

2. Sour Joke

Put a few drops of green food coloring in the milk to make it look as if it has soured. When someone pours it in the morning, they will think it has gone bad.

How is that funny... you're just forcing them to go out and spend money that they probably don't have on milk that they definitely don't need, probably furthering their fiscal problems until they go into debt and enter into a deep depression and turn to substance abuse to solve their problems.

Haha?

3. Old News

Take a few pages from the inside of last week's newspaper, and substitute them for today's issue. (Sports pages work great, or comics--whatever is the victim's favorite section!).

okay, really, how is this in any way funny. First off, who reads the paper. Second off, when the paper isn't available, how difficult is it to snag your smart phone and look up whatever information needed? Third off.... no.

4. Not My Plot>> NEW <<

Leave a list where you know your victim will "accidentally" find it. On the list, state several devious but cryptic plans for pranking your victim. Then, never carry any of the plans out, leaving your victim wondering when the impending pranks will begin.

Actually, this is the only one that I like, and incidentally, it's the only one that I did. I told my poor roommate that I was "too tired to think of anything to prank her with." She however, thinks very highly of me, and is now expecting an onslaught of pranks, which will never come. Ha. Joke's on her. April fools!


So, as another April Fools day comes and goes, I am again left without a prank. I am okay with that, because no one "got" me, and also, more importantly, no one hates me because I swapped their Whoppers for Play-Doh. 

Stalk the LOLz: Reporter at Large

I'm behind enemy lines as I type this. Behind enemy lines as in I'm eavesdropping on the "enemy" and attempting to derive what exactly is it that is making them laugh.

It's a bright Monday afternoon, and I'm currently seated outside 1873, training my ears and averting my eyes on the two conversations happening around me. Unfortunately, I'm a highly distractible person, and the two conversations are kind of bleeding into each other, and there's a guy with a leaf blower so that really isn't helping my case.

WAIT
There is was. The first chuckle. It's from my conversation to my left, which consists of a guy and a girl seated across from each other in the shade, discussing something that I haven't quite figured out yet. But, the first laugh came from the guy saying "I wish it was an April fools..." and the girl erupted into a brief burst of chuckles. I suppose she laughed here to either lighten the mood from the bomb he just dropped on her (linguistically speaking of course) or she actually thought his connection to the days date was humorous. Either way, it was a brief chuckle. I digress.

So, ironically enough, I turn around and the other conversation that I am currently stalking is in fact Mackie talking to her conversation partner, and they just laughed because we both realized that we were doing our assignments. She and her partner shared a laugh about the fact that so many people just entered into their conversation and interrupted it. Oh the irony.

Back to the other conversation... it's sort of dying down. I think it might be a more serious conversation, which makes this a bit awkward. Hopefully some pity laughs will enter in that I can blog about.

Nothing... la de dah... also I'm currently turning toward this couple which makes me a bit less incognito....

But I think people throw laughter into their conversations when they
A. Feel like they need to change the pace of the conversation
B. Don't have anything else to say
C. Share a joke

Unfortunately I'm not that good at being behind enemy lines. So I don't know what that says about me... I guess no future in espionage.

Dang.