It Needs to Stop

This is going to be off-topic for purposes of this assignment, but I can't think of anything else because I'm so frustrated.

Major-shaming needs to stop. I am sick and tired of it. Everywhere I go on this damn campus I hear engineering and pre-med students going on and on about how they take the "real classes" and the "actually hard classes". They discuss how they're going to make the most money, and how they deserve it because "not everyone can handle the difficulty" of such an elite major. It's bullshit.

I could major in engineering if I wanted to. I could be pre-med too, just as easily. I don't want to choose those, however, and not because they are "too hard". I just can't see myself getting a career in those fields and being happy. (Also I hate math. I'm not bad at math, I just hate it, so I put in minimal effort to pass the AP Exams and place out of it.)

Money isn't everything. Having a lot of money is nice, sure, but if money is all success is based on, this world is more twisted than even I believe it to be. I'm in a "statistically low-paying major", sure. But so what? Why do people care? How does that make me worth less than others? I still have something to offer this world.

I literally had a girl in one of my classes say that "There's competition in the pre-med and engineering fields because that's where all the smart people go."  I'm not exaggerating. She said it three times during her argument, as if it were fact. There is no such thing as an elite major. People have different interests, people make different choices! What ever happened to wanting to be happy, to doing what you love and loving what you do?

I am an English major (please don't judge my writing skills from this rant). I experience some sort of major-shaming at least every other day. I hear if from my peers, my parents, and even strangers. It's tiring! I feel like the world is against me, as if everyone is trying to get me to regret my choice before it even has any actual impact on my life. I doubt myself now all the time. I'm slowly beginning to feel as if I will be a useless failure, and that's a horrible feeling. I haven't had a chance to do anything yet, and already it's as if it's too late for a success story to blossom.

What's worse is that major-shaming scares people out of even trying to do what they love. I have a friend who wants nothing more than to be in theater (and she'd be good, she already is). Yet she refuses to major in theater, because she's worried of how it would look and how she would be perceived. She will only choose it if she is able to double major in theater and something "legitimate" (legitimate was not her exact wording, but was the gist of the speech). Another friend of mine says rather frequently that he "wishes he would just major in english" and that "[I'm] so brave for actually choosing english". It frustrates me to no end! Am I sacrificing myself? Am I really doing something so inconceivably dangerous that others marvel at my apparent stupidity? Every damn compliment I'm given seems to be a backhanded insult.

The point I'm trying to make is this: every major is worth something, and none are inherently better than any others. Engineering and pre-med people, keep on trucking, you can do it. Everyone else, don't get dragged down by ignorance, you can be successful too. Please, stop major-shaming.

It's Nuts

If you are not reading Marvel Comic's The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl, you are missing out on what I hope will be the next cultural phenomenon. Squirrel Girl has leapt out of a tree and into my heart, becoming my new favorite superhero. The concept and its execution are just ridiculous enough to work, and the series thus far has managed to create a legitimate story while simultaneously making fun of both itself and Marvel's past endeavors. If Squirrel Girl doesn't get a movie, I will be thoroughly disappointed.

So, how does this relate to anything? I feel that comics, in a way, are the in-between in the transition from literacy to electricy. Text is involved for dialogue and sound, but even on their own the images are able to tell the story and fuel readers' emotions. Comics are also a media platform that was born on paper but evolved to fit the internet. Web-comics follow the same principles as classics from Marvel and DC, but have their own style and presentation. Some are long stories with developing characters and plots, while others are quick commentary on daily life (the modernized political cartoon or newspaper comic). Then, of course, there are also the "Rage Comics" born and raised on Reddit.

While this may not be a perfect example (hell, I could be entirely wrong), I think that comics are at least a stepping stone toward the electric age. If anything, the creation of films, television shows, and video games based on comic book characters and worlds is enough to argue for their place in electricy.

Seriously though, if you remember anything from this post it should be that Squirrel Girl is awesome.

(I know the art style isn't "great", but remember, it's making fun of itself)

Unanswered Questions: The Truman Show

What temperature was the set kept at?

Did Truman ever experience seasons?

What would they have done if Truman had died onscreen as a child?

If it was possible to break into the set, why didn't Sylvia try to break in at some point?

Why was it so easy for people to break in?

Why did they teach Truman world geography?

Why did they have a travel center if they didn't want Truman traveling?

What if Truman had become a criminal?

What if Truman was a psychopath by nature?

What was the plan for the show if the director died? (I mean, he was clearly quite a bit older than Truman.)

Why did anyone find the show to be interesting in the slightest?

Was Truman's birthday an international holiday?

Did people watch other shows, or was the Truman Show a monopoly on the entertainment industry?

Were child labor laws broken, or is this some kind of loophole because it was his life?

It was said that Truman was given up for adoption and adopted by a corporation. How many people came forward claiming to be his mother and demanding money for their son's work?

How long had that man been in that bathtub?

Where's the Fire?

I realize that I forgot to post yesterday, and I apologize for that. I was staffing a weekend-long Model UN conference that kept me busy and sleep-deprived during all hours of the day Friday-Sunday.


I theoretically almost killed my roommate last week.

The fire alarm in our building goes off so regularly (due to testing and pranksters) that the entire floor has taken a relatively passive approach to responding to it. When it sounds we all poke our heads out and have a debate over whether or not it's real, and whether or not we're going down. This debate involves not just discussion, but checking emails and looking out windows as well. It is our carefree approach to fire safety. This relates somewhat directly to the events of last week.

It was approximately 9:30 a.m. when the fire alarm woke me up. The closest alarm to my door is outside and down the hall a little ways, so it wasn't very loud, and it took me a moment to process that it was actually coming from my building, and not the one across from me. The next logical step: check my email to see if it's a test. The email told me that the alarm was being tested from 9:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. on January 29th. I was immediately annoyed that they would wake me up at such an hour, but felt reassured and planned on waiting for it to stop screaming so I could go back to sleep. A few minutes later it finally woke up my roommate, who I relayed the contents of the email to. We stayed in our beds, waiting. I would have continued to lie there, annoyed but unconcerned, if it hadn't been for a text from my friend saying that everyone else was outside and being forced away from the building. I was confused by this, so I finally checked the date on my phone.

It was January 28th.

Panicked now, I told my roommate to get up and we hurried outside, unsure of what exactly was going on. We were not the last ones to evacuate, a testament to the confusion caused by the email.

In the end, there was no fire. We would have been fine, and our carefreeness was a true reflection of life in the building.

But if there had been a fire, we would have been in trouble.