Monday, September 8, 2014
Sunday, September 7, 2014
What's In My Name?
My numerology results are correct on some fronts, and incorrect on others.
It says that my interests "relate to the abstract, the spiritual, and utopian dreams." I'm not a particularly spiritual or religious person personally (I guess I consider myself an agnostic atheist), but I'm very interested in religion/spirituality or other abstract and "out there" ideas just because I like to think about how they originated or the psychology behind them. For example, I love reading about conspiracy theories and unexplained events (UFOs, time or reality shifts, parallel worlds, supernatural events, etc.). I don't necessarily believe them but I don't necessarily just read about them to laugh at the people who do believe them. I just find them genuinely interesting.
About the "utopian dreams" part, I'm not a particularly optimistic or idealistic person—in fact, I consider myself pretty cynical. However, I'm still very invested in the idea of making the world a better place in terms of social justice and the like, but I don't think that a "utopian" society is possible. I also have big dreams for my future, but I try and keep a realistic point of view towards them. Unfortunately the realistic point of view tips to a pessimistic point of view far too often.
It says that I may possess some of the negative 11 traits are being tense or nervous, which is certainly accurate. I deal with anxiety disorder and OCD, which both produce a great deal of tension a lot of the time. It also says that I'm too sensitive and overly emotional which, at first glance, I dismissed as being inaccurate. However, after reading further to where it says that sometimes these sensitivities are quite repressed, which leads to more nervous tension. I realized that this is actually pretty accurate. Along with the anxiety and OCD I've also been diagnosed with chronic depression which often results in me being overly sensitive to very small events in the day which can, against my will, trigger a very negative emotional response. I always try to repress these reactions, or at least not be obvious about it because I feel that not only are they highly inconvenient for me, but also for my friends and other people I interact with.
The last part states that 11s are not very practical because of "extreme idealism" and that there's a "degree of self-deception" present, as well as inflexibility due to a fixed idea of right and wrong. I do have a very prominent idea of right and wrong and I tend to get irritated or angry at people who are more insensitive and not as socially aware as I would like them to be, resulting in them crossing into the "wrong" side of my right/wrong dichotomy. Despite that I do think that I have a more grey sense of morality, or at least believe that morality is a spectrum, with wrong on the far left and right on the far right. I don't think that most people fall into a black and white binary category of "right" or "wrong" or "good" and "bad," and I do try to be forgiving and not inflexible when it comes to people who have crossed a line in my point of view, but I do tend to not forget when someone has said or done something that I found offensive or was morally opposed to.
All in all, the numerology analysis was somewhat of a mixed bag, though while I was writing this I did realize that it was a bit more correct than I initially thought it was.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Current Event Quiz 9/2/14
1. Who donated the largest amount of money to the University of Texas during their eight year fund drive which ended Sunday night? Page 1 "UT fund drive raises $3.1 billion…"
James and Miriam Mulva donated the most money at 75 million dollars.
2. What is the proposed national minimum wage that President Obama would like to see in place this year? Page A2 "Obama renews push…"
The proposed minimum wage that Obama would like to see in place this year is $10.10 an hour.
3. What do you think the political cartoon on Page A9 means?
The political cartoon, labeled "The Eyes of ISIS," depicts the eyes of what is presumably a personification of the Iraqi "jihadist" terrorist group that is currently driving Iraq to the brink of a civil war with a skull reflected in them. It's simply making a statement claiming that it's only goal is death and destruction, no matter what they claim.
4. How many people were killed in accidents over the holiday weekend? Page B1
Three people were killed in accidents over the holiday.
5. What happened to UT quarterback David Ash over the weekend that has UT football fans upset? Page C1
Ash suffered what is only being referred to so far as a "head injury," and it's unsure if he will ever play for the Longhorns again.
6. What is a "hyper lapse video? Page D1 Life and Arts - not the travel section
A hyper lapse video is the kind of video that can be created with Instagram's new app, Hyperlapse, which stabilizes and smooths time-lapse videos, in which frames of video taken at different times are stitched together to create one single video.
Read one of the obituaries found on page B4. Read one of the longer ones. What elements make up an obituary? What kind of information is available. What thing would you expect to read in an obituary that you rarely find in one (see if you can deduce this one on your own)? Did you know that many new reporters first assignments are to write obituaries? What would you think about having to write one of these?
Obituaries are typically made up of a brief summary of the deceased's life, their hobbies and accomplishments, and who their remaining living family members are, as well as their death date and age at death. Rarely you will find a description of their specific cause of death, however. I didn't know that many reporters' first assignments are to write obituaries, and honestly I would feel disappointed if my assignment was simply to write someone's obituary, especially if they weren't well known.
Of course if I was assigned it I wouldn't be disrespectful to the family and I would try my best, but I would be disappointed that I didn't get assigned something more relevant to current news to report on.
Three people were killed in accidents over the holiday.
5. What happened to UT quarterback David Ash over the weekend that has UT football fans upset? Page C1
Ash suffered what is only being referred to so far as a "head injury," and it's unsure if he will ever play for the Longhorns again.
6. What is a "hyper lapse video? Page D1 Life and Arts - not the travel section
A hyper lapse video is the kind of video that can be created with Instagram's new app, Hyperlapse, which stabilizes and smooths time-lapse videos, in which frames of video taken at different times are stitched together to create one single video.
Read one of the obituaries found on page B4. Read one of the longer ones. What elements make up an obituary? What kind of information is available. What thing would you expect to read in an obituary that you rarely find in one (see if you can deduce this one on your own)? Did you know that many new reporters first assignments are to write obituaries? What would you think about having to write one of these?
Obituaries are typically made up of a brief summary of the deceased's life, their hobbies and accomplishments, and who their remaining living family members are, as well as their death date and age at death. Rarely you will find a description of their specific cause of death, however. I didn't know that many reporters' first assignments are to write obituaries, and honestly I would feel disappointed if my assignment was simply to write someone's obituary, especially if they weren't well known.
Of course if I was assigned it I wouldn't be disrespectful to the family and I would try my best, but I would be disappointed that I didn't get assigned something more relevant to current news to report on.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
The Big Day
A grey rain fell from a blank sky, slicking the asphalt so that it hissed when his Volkswagen's wheels rolled over it. His heart beat an aching, urgent tattoo in his chest, urging the car to accelerate further, for the monotonously bleak landscape to blur past the window faster. He could practically hear the fatalistic wedding bells tolling as he drove, ringing out his desperation.
He wasn't going to make it. He was too late, far too late.
The apathetic drizzle had begun to escalate into a full-fledged downpour and besieged his window-wipers, nearly causing him to rear-end a sluggish trailer ahead of him. It was almost completely veiled from sight by the curtains of water. The man's foot practically slammed the break, moments before he would have added another dent to the discolored vehicle. A frustrated swear escaped his lips and he wiped his forehead with the sleeve of the black suit he had splurged on simply for the chance, the possibility that he could reach her in time. It was suitable for both a wedding or a funeral—he supposed only time would tell which it would be.
He maneuvered his car gingerly around the trailer with jerky, anxious movements. Once he was free of its speed limit he put on speed, disregarding the safety measures that would typically be taken during driving in this sort of deluge. Water fizzed under his tires and he took deep, shuddering breaths as he continued to drive, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.
Flat moors morphed into mountains and mountains morphed into the destitute buildings that tended to cling to the outside of city sprawls. He was almost there. A day's drive with practically no pitstops, all for her.
The anxious knot in his stomach had begun to loosen. He wasn't far now. Soon he would reach her, be able to tell her, to warn her. He imagined her being fussed at by her bridesmaids and mother and aunts as the ceremony crept closer and closer, how beautiful she would look in her dress, blissfully unaware of the monster she would be legally yoked to in just under half an hour.
He was so caught up in his fantasy that he nearly drove straight into a moving train. His brakes slammed on just in time and he grimaced as he jerked forwards, the slack in his seatbelt tightening just in time to keep his forehead from connecting with the steering wheel.
The train took its time. Graffiti and metal blurred past and yet there seemed to be no end in sight. His jaw tightened to a degree at which he believed his teeth would crack as he listened to the seconds tick away with every swipe of the window-wipers that still swept back and forth even though the rain had ceased almost an hour before. After a seemingly immeasurable stretch of time passed he cracked, slamming his hand on the wheel and allowing profanities to spray from his lips.
His head slumped down to press against the steering wheel, defeated. His throat hurt from yelling even for a short time and his heart had sunk to his stomach. Of course, it was only then that the train passed and the gates lifted.
Uncaring of how many speed limits and traffic rules he broke, the Volkswagen sped to the church. The clouds had cleared above it, leaving a blue halo to bless her falsely holy, joyous day. He had to tell her, he had to tell her, he had to tell her, he chanted to himself with every step. Out of the car, onto the sidewalk, up the stairs, to the church door. Would she still be getting ready? Where would he find her?
As it happened, it was much easier to find her than he thought. She stood at the altar, her hands in his. He was too late.
The church doors slammed behind him and he stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the aisle, shoulders slumped in defeat. His eyes met his, and that devil of a man smiled smugly at him, while she looked at him expressionlessly, as if she barely knew him at all.
Wedding bells rang in his ears.
He wasn't going to make it. He was too late, far too late.
The apathetic drizzle had begun to escalate into a full-fledged downpour and besieged his window-wipers, nearly causing him to rear-end a sluggish trailer ahead of him. It was almost completely veiled from sight by the curtains of water. The man's foot practically slammed the break, moments before he would have added another dent to the discolored vehicle. A frustrated swear escaped his lips and he wiped his forehead with the sleeve of the black suit he had splurged on simply for the chance, the possibility that he could reach her in time. It was suitable for both a wedding or a funeral—he supposed only time would tell which it would be.
He maneuvered his car gingerly around the trailer with jerky, anxious movements. Once he was free of its speed limit he put on speed, disregarding the safety measures that would typically be taken during driving in this sort of deluge. Water fizzed under his tires and he took deep, shuddering breaths as he continued to drive, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.
Flat moors morphed into mountains and mountains morphed into the destitute buildings that tended to cling to the outside of city sprawls. He was almost there. A day's drive with practically no pitstops, all for her.
The anxious knot in his stomach had begun to loosen. He wasn't far now. Soon he would reach her, be able to tell her, to warn her. He imagined her being fussed at by her bridesmaids and mother and aunts as the ceremony crept closer and closer, how beautiful she would look in her dress, blissfully unaware of the monster she would be legally yoked to in just under half an hour.
He was so caught up in his fantasy that he nearly drove straight into a moving train. His brakes slammed on just in time and he grimaced as he jerked forwards, the slack in his seatbelt tightening just in time to keep his forehead from connecting with the steering wheel.
The train took its time. Graffiti and metal blurred past and yet there seemed to be no end in sight. His jaw tightened to a degree at which he believed his teeth would crack as he listened to the seconds tick away with every swipe of the window-wipers that still swept back and forth even though the rain had ceased almost an hour before. After a seemingly immeasurable stretch of time passed he cracked, slamming his hand on the wheel and allowing profanities to spray from his lips.
His head slumped down to press against the steering wheel, defeated. His throat hurt from yelling even for a short time and his heart had sunk to his stomach. Of course, it was only then that the train passed and the gates lifted.
Uncaring of how many speed limits and traffic rules he broke, the Volkswagen sped to the church. The clouds had cleared above it, leaving a blue halo to bless her falsely holy, joyous day. He had to tell her, he had to tell her, he had to tell her, he chanted to himself with every step. Out of the car, onto the sidewalk, up the stairs, to the church door. Would she still be getting ready? Where would he find her?
As it happened, it was much easier to find her than he thought. She stood at the altar, her hands in his. He was too late.
The church doors slammed behind him and he stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the aisle, shoulders slumped in defeat. His eyes met his, and that devil of a man smiled smugly at him, while she looked at him expressionlessly, as if she barely knew him at all.
Wedding bells rang in his ears.
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