Midterm

YEAAAAAAAAAAH!

The Burger King Advertisements

The King freaks me out.

If I woke up and some plastic looking king was in my bed offering me food, I'd make the assumption that said food contained roofies and chloroform.

I just don't see who the Ads are trying to appeal.

I get the need for a mascot, but where was the meeting that decided on going with a creepy king rather than something a little more... kid friendly.

McDonald's has Ronald. He's a clown. He's kind of creepy too, but just in a wtf-is-that-a-clown kind of way.

Jack-in-the-Box has Jack - the wise cracking "owner" of the brand. His advertisements are funny (or at least try to be) and still get across the new food, or deal, or special, or whatever.

What-a-burger has that voice-over guy who tells you about the new sandwiches with his soothing southern drawl.

Burger King has a Plastic King getting into weird shenanigans while forcing people to eat his food.

"Okay, Okay... so... He'll be partially nude. I'm feeling the medallion... Let's throw the phallic flame can in there... Uh.... Burgers? Pffff why would we show our food in a commercial. C'mon man, take an Creativity Class."

Uh....
Maybe there is a reason why BK sales are plummeting.

And don't tell me the off-key off-tempo singing breakfast commercials are any better. The only thing I like about those is that one where the dude jumps out of a second story window and it says "Don't try this" or something at the bottom. And even then it's mostly morbid fascination with the chance of him breaking his legs.

C'mon Burger King.

How did you get from this version of The King:

"The Old King"

To the seventies porn-star looking guy with a plastic King mask.

Oh well. What can you do...

I like Taco Bell the best anyway.

Extended Warranties and Service Plans

If you've been reading my blog, and from the look of the comments, you haven't, you'll know I work at RadioShack. At "The Shack" (as corporate would like it to be known as from now on) we offer a one or two year extended warranty on most products. It costs more, obviously, and the selling point I am required to bring up is that if it breaks or malfunctions, you can bring it back in and we'll pull a brand new one off the shelf for you.

I guess "The Shack" works...

Let's say you come in and buy a nice pair of headphones for 20 bucks. The "service plan" on those guys costs $6.99. SIX additional dollars. It is unbelievably hard to convince someone to spend six more dollars on a set of headphones. It turns the easy twenty dollar purchase into a thirty dollar purchase. That is kind of a big difference. If the headphones were 19.99, the service plan costs $3.49. Almost no one buys them, and if you do, lets face it: It's because you're gullible. 

Every time the option comes up, I am faced with two ways to sell the plan:

A) C'mon! It's just three extra dollars. If they break or even go out, you'll be covered! And for a whole year! C'monnnnnnn!

Option A

B) I'd recommend getting this service plan because our shitty products will definitely fuck up within a year.

Option B

Option B may not necessarily be true, but I have to spend a lot of energy talking about not only how they will break, but why they will break. 

Take for example cell phone car chargers for an iPhone. It starts out at $24.99. Not too bad. Definitely not the cheapest. The service plan is $6.99. That turns it into a 34ish dollar purchase after tax, unbelievably expensive for a cell phone charger. As such, almost no one does it. But I have memorized a speech that my manager taught my about how they don't make them with fuses anymore, blah, blah, blah, and if you leave it in the lighter when you turn on the car it will get a shock, blah, blah, blah, you should definitely buy it, blah, blah, blah, I don't make any money off of it, blah.

Oh wait, I do make money off of it. I get commission for how many service plans I sell. 

It's tough to justify a 7 dollar gamble on the off chance that something breaks. Especially when the thing gets limited use.

The sad thing is: Stuff breaks ALL the time. How many times have you washed your iPod headphones? Stood on them? Dropped your phone? Cracked your screen? Dropped a bluetooth or something? All of that is covered in the service plan. I had this old woman bring in a phone that had been mauled by her cats. Hey, it was covered. 

As for me, I would not buy the plan. 

But then again I would break whatever it was I bought. I've only had one pair of headphones that I haven't lost or broke, and those are my music-making headphones. 

Whatever. For now, I'll stick to the typical gamble.

After all, only suckers buy those plans.

...

...

...

My headphone's left ear just went out.

Shoulda got that plan.

Call of Duty and Halo Reach: What Happens Come November 9th

September just passed, and if you consider yourself a video game fan, you either own or have at least played the new Halo game, "Halo: Reach." It's a prequel to the original game, and rather than being the last surviving super-soldier, you are now part of a super-squad doing super-missions. But no one buys Halo for the campaign. The story is ridiculously hard to follow, and almost every fight sequence is the same.

The new face of Halo

My senior year of High School, Halo 3 came out. Gamers everywhere cheered and claimed it was the best multiplayer experience ever. Then a month later, Call of Duty 4 came out and redefined what it meant to play Xbox Live.

Three years later, the exact same thing is happening. Halo Reach came out and was declared the best Halo experience of any console generation. It was said that the multiplayer was some of the best to ever come out - and hell, it is. I've played the shit out of Halo. I've loved every minute of it. But, on November 9th, Call of Duty Seven comes out, AKA Call of Duty: Black Ops.

Black Ops is being produced by a design company called Treyarch. This is the first time they've been allowed to use the license to produce a game set in the modern world.

For the last five years, Treyarch handled the WWII-era Call of Duty games

The last game they released, Call of Duty: World at War, was still set in WWII, but had some phenomenal multiplayer via Live and a minigame called Nazi Zombies. The Zombie game basically involved surviving as long as you can with a friend while zombies tried to break into your fort. It sounds stupid, but it was really addictive and fun. 

This time, they've upped the ante. 

Call of Duty: Black Ops is going to redefine what it means to play an Xbox Live game. The sheer customization available is unheard of. Gone are the standardized ranking systems, gone is the leveling up, and gone is the memory of getting killed by guns you are nowhere near the level to use.

You buy everything now, with money earned from playing the game, getting kills, and completing challenges. 

In the last game, you had to be level 70 to use the AK47. Getting level 70 could take weeks, or months, depending on how much you played and how good you were. Now? Getting the AK47 is as simple as earning enough money to buy it, regardless of your level. Gun customization is back, with camo now available from the get go and earned via the money system. Back in the day, it had to come from getting head-shots - up to 250 for some of the rarer camos. Now, all you need is the money.

Different scopes that are unlockable - All about preference.

It may sound like its been dumbed down to prevent people that suck from complaining about not being able to reach level 70, but its actually pretty revolutionary. Everyone, for all intents and purposes is on a level playing field. And, the sheer amount of customization is unbelievable. 

For example, there are probably around forty guns in the game ranging from sniper rifles, to machine guns, to shot guns. Every one of those guns can be customized with about eight different attachments and fifteen different camos. The choices are endless. 

Shot Gun with "Red Tiger Camo"

When Halo Reach came out, they added a bit of customization to their multiplayer. The starting ability to choose what armor upgrade you wanted allowed for different styles of play. Halo has always been about everyone being on the same playing field. I think they looked at the success of the Call of Duty games recently and decided to add the small, albeit necessary options to switch up the game play.

What's great is that Call of Duty appears to be doing the same thing. They have looked at the success of the Halo games on a professional level (MLG, TWL, etc) and incorporated the idea of a level playing field (relatively speaking). No longer will the level 70 be dominating with guns that the level 10 can not use. 

Now, level will show experience, rather than what guns you have and can use. 

I'll tell you one thing: when November 9th comes around, I'm going to take advantage of GameStop's trade-in program and return Halo: Reach for a huge discount off Call of Duty. And the sad thing is, I'd be willing to bet everyone else is thinking the exact same thing.

See you guys on November 9th.

Dallas Mexican Food - a critique

I was born and raised on Mi Cocina.

I am originally from Houston, but I was born in D-town. I was born with clubbed feet, and every year and a half I had to come back to Scottish Rites Hospital over on Oak Lawn and get a check up.

Clubbed Feet

While we were in Dallas, every time, for as long as I can remember, we went to Mi Cocina. If you've never been there, check it out, it's a great place. It's pretty upscale, but not "too" upscale. And the prices are just expensive enough to feel like you're taking someone out to a fine-dining restaurant, but cheap enough to where you can come back.

Over in Up-Town

I get beef fajitas everywhere I go. 

I used to get beans and rice wherever I went. I used to be so picky, I never ate meat, hated salsa, and got literally, beans and rice at Mexican places. Then again, I weighed 200 lbs in eighth grade, then 165 when I graduated high school. Clearly my diet choices were great as a child.

Regardless, Mi Cocina has some great fajitas.

But lately, I've been going to new places with my girlfriend. 

And let me tell you, I'm glad I have.

Blue Goose, over on Greenville, is absolutely fantastic. The fajitas are delicious, and they even have an in-house tortilla machine that sits right in the center of the restaurant. The chips are great, the salsa is better, and the atmosphere is awesome - especially sitting outside these past few days when the weather has been perfect. 

Odd name, delicious food

Also on Greenville is Gloria's.

Not going to lie, I'm not much of a fan.

I'd been there a few times and liked it, but... after going there a few times, the food is just overwhelmingly mediocre. It's so bland, and I can't imagine that is what they are going for, especially at a Mexican place. The rice tastes boring and weak, and while the fajitas are good, the lack of spice just makes it pointless. 

Sitting outside is cool, but doesn't make up for everything else.

One thing I will admit is that the restaurant itself is probably the nicest of the three. It looks like a really upscale place both inside and out, but it kills me how lame the food is. One thing it does have going for it though are the prices. It's 9.99 for fajitas - and not like a quarter pound or some small amount. Usually fajitas are at least 13, and after tax and tip, you probably pay like 16 bucks. 

If you love Mexican food, check out Blue Goose and Mi Cocina. If you like nice restaurants and mediocre food, check out Gloria's. And I'm sure I'll get a dozen haters telling me how great Gloria's is and how I'm full of it and stupid and don't know what I'm talking about. 

That's fine, that's what a blog is for. Let me have it.

Or give me a recommendation for place. 

But for now, I'll be eating at Blue Goose.

... and loving every damn minute of it.

What Did That Dream Mean...

The other night I had this dream where I was just moving down a staircase. Except I was not walking.

Or even running.

And I don't think the staircase ended, I'm not sure - but if Inception taught me anything, you don't remember how you got there, or where you went.

How... did I get here...

Anyway, my preferred method of transportation in this dream was using my arms to support my body weight on the railings, and then in a ridiculous fit of acrobatics, pushing myself both up and down the railing. But it wasn't hard, it was really easy. 

What does that mean?

My aunt in Scotland is crazy. She's extremely into witchcraft, Celtic druidism (for a brief period) and even dabbled in Wicca. Straight up nuts. Cool as shit though. She loves doing this dream-reading stuff. 

I'm going to invoke her spirit for this.

I think that the dream represents me finally enjoying what I am doing in School, and ultimately life. The ease of the travel, both up and down the staircase symbolizes how I am finally free and able to move within my own life, represented by the staircase. 

Like this, except on stairs

I've been through a lot of shit lately, at least this past year. My dad died and my families finances were absolutely decimated by his last few months of intensive care (We was retired, we didn't have insurance, my parents retirement money was spent trying to keep him alive so he could sort out financial stuff, but the ailing economy prevented that, blah blah blah)

I am sad my Dad is gone, but I'm definitely not sad he died. He had ALS, and his final few weeks were not only painful for us, but tremendously hard on his pride (See my previous blog post). 

Anyway, enough of that depressing shit.

My Dad did not support advertising. He pushed and pushed for Cox, or even pre-law, and gave me little room to do what I wanted. Advertising has been a blessing. I am doing not only what I want to do, but what I love to do. Since I've been a kid, I've been coming up with ideas for commercials and billboards and posters for companies ranging from Apple and Eve Apple Juice, to Jack in the Box, to those goofy HMS commercials you see late at night on local channels. 

I think this guy is hilarious.

I want to work in Advertising. I want to be an Art Director. I want to own my own agency. I want to make commercials for the HMS guy that conveys the actual emotion of owning your own house for the first time, rather than the barrage of stilted dialogue and poor acting that plague his ads.

I guess that dream means a lot.

My aunt would be proud.

My aunt being proud of me.

And if she ever reads this, I got major brownie points for making her that attractive of a witch.

Show us the definition...

"The trait

of being

spurred on

by a dislike 

of falling

below

your

standards."

Pride.

Although that last picture is a dead give away.

Plums and Pumpkins

I recently read an article on Advertising Age and was enlightened to the term "Plums and Pumpkins." Not only did I find this to be pretty humorous terminology, but the analogy is pretty solid: The plum is the small piece of work, appetizing at first, that is readily doable. Plum after plum comes into your hands, and with each piece of fruit comes the promise of the bigger more lucrative pumpkin down the road. Too many plums though, and the idea of another "chase" becomes less appealing. As one commenter to the article said, "Plums are so sweet though!"

Vendorship.

But how sweet is too sweet?

Churning out plum after plum and small project after small project does nothing but cheapen the relationship between client and agency. If the client promises the pumpkin - the dream gig, the big job, the ultimate in creative expression and fiscal profit - it better deliver.

I feel like advertising should play to emotions... True emotion and the connection that comes with it takes years to grow. If the client is willing to invest in the consumer, why not the agency?


Let plums grow into pumpkins.

Let plums earn their way to pumpkins.

Don't dangle the pumpkin and just keep asking for plums.

 Partnership.

FIFA

The game or the Fédération Internationale de Football Association?

I was never really in to "soccer." 

I've got cousins in Scotland that would kick the hell out of me for calling it that. 


Soccer. I used to find it boring, low-scoring, and full of pretty-boy Europeans with feaux-hawks and no body hair. 


That attitude was pre FIFA. 


Its funny how much a video game can change things. I guarantee you it is not just me affected by this. I'd be willing to bet that every recent soccer fan, and maybe even the recent rise of Major League Soccer, has been influenced by the increasing popularity of the video game. Four years ago, I could tell you the rules of soccer. I could tell you who kind of does what and where he kind of does it. I could maybe tell you a famous player (I would probably yell PELE! if you asked me then, though). 

Now it is almost 2011, and FIFA 11 has just come out.

That's Vela from Arsenal (my favorite team from the english premier leagues), Kaka from Real Madrid (I have a buddy who dominates with Real, I hate them, and I hate him when he plays them), and Donovan wearing his US World Cup Jersey. 

I didn't even look that up.

Three years ago I would have said "Some spanish dude and two white guys." 

FIFA is the fastest selling sports game. That's kind of cool, especially in a country that is not into soccer. Maybe by the time FIFA 14 comes out, the US will not only have a legit world cup team, but a country that cares more than just once every four years (and only for three days until the US is elminated).


Oh well.


FIFA is calling. I'm up on my Real Madrid buddy by 3 games right now. I think the official score is 14-11. It is written in sharpie on my wall in the frat house. 


In the meantime, check out the FIFA 11 trailer.


See you on Xbox Live. I'll be Aresenal.

Argue Against Your Own Position...

Have you ever seen The Cove? It is one of those movies I guarantee you have heard of, even if you haven't seen it.

Recognize it?

If that didn't spark any ideas, I guess I'll just give it away:

It's that dolphin killing documentary filmed in Japan. I 100% support the efforts of the people trying to get these killings stopped. I feel like it would indeed take a global effort to expose and ultimately put an end to it. But... for the sake of this Blog...

Who are we to spearhead that movement? Who is anyone? Japan is a completely different culture. They have been whaling since the 12th century. They eat the dolphins. They put it in highly prized and valued sushi. What right do we have to come into their culture and not only tell them they are wrong, but that they can't do something. We don't eat dolphin. They do. We're different.

What if the Hindu community of a foreign nation decided to launch a huge investigation of how cows are treated during the slaughter process. Then after the investigation, the crucify Americans and make them out to be these tyrants because they like hamburgers. 

I mean, its not like the Japanese are cruel in their slaughter. It's not like they massacre the dolphins with spears while riding a river of blood.

Wait a minute...

Oh... that was a river of blood? Uhh...

Uhh...

...

Damn.

On a more serious note, check out The Cove Trailer.

It's a great documentary.

The Blog

This is the second (third I guess if you count my Ad Lit blog) that I have ever made. The first was for my freshman English class.

I have never really taken blogs seriously. But hell, that's because I don't know anything about them - and I am the first to admit this. I used to think they were a way for hyper-emotional teenage girls to vent to an audience that cared: the vast emotional abyss that is the internet.

The Internet

But as I read more of them, I can't help but like them. While writing this blog for example (although most of these come from random scribblings and thoughts I have throughout the day rather than an actual updated blog) I consistently find myself side tracked not by YouTube, iTunes, or random websites, but by other people's blogs. I just read some random guys blog about being an American in Korea, and how he took this girl out on his first Korean date. I've never been to Korea. I've never dated a Korean girl. But it was kind of cool reading about his experience. I'm not going to say that its almost like I've experienced it as a result of reading his blog, because that would be some vicarious mumbo-jumbo BS. 

But what I will say is that I learned some interesting tidbits about Korean culture (turns out they occasionally cut food with scissors because they cannot use knives) as well as what not to do on a date in a foreign land. 

And ultimately, that information may never be useful. But that's kind of what makes the blog idea so cool. I can pick whatever blog I want, and take whatever I want from it. And what's even cooler is that I can respond. I could write a scathing critique of Korean-American relations. I could share my own personal dating story. I could agree, I could disagree, I could write "Cool story bro, no one cares." and feel better about myself for ten minutes. 

Yeah its been about ten minutes now, and I feel great.

The Advertising Major

I was in my frat's library the other day, studying for one of my midterms when one of my buddies asked me what I was studying. "Just studying for my two advertising midterms."

He looked at me like I said I was prepping for Doodling 101. He was a Biology major. Some premed kid who is up on his own stuff just because he feels like his major is harder. Is Organic Chemistry more challenging than some advertising classes? Absolutely.

 ... what the hell is that?

This is what really grinds my gears though: Some of these premed people, and even the Cox kids, act like advertising doesn't do anything, doesn't mean anything, and sure as hell won't change anything.

You want to talk economics Mr. Cox? What funds the entirety of our democratic media platforms?

You want to talk change Miss Chem? Advertising is going to get you the funding and support you need to develop a cure for X disease. And then its going to sell the shit out of it.

Advertising is important too, and it has come a long way since its roots. It's a 500 billion dollar industry and is continuing to grow. Don't tell me what I'm doing has no merit.

Is it cold up there, Chem Majors? Can you give me the degrees in Kelvin?

The Chemistry Pedestal

I'm in Advertising because I wanted to be. I came to SMU thinking about Temerlin. I'm going to do the best I can, just as all the science people will. But don't belittle my major and career just because you can't remember the mole conversion rate. 

Yeah, I took some Chemistry in high school.

I hated it.

Look at me, now look away, now look at me again.

I love those advertisements. I can't help but grin when that guy mumbles "Swan dive!" and dives into the hot tub. I always laugh when he says "And take you on more of these... while wearing one of these, or one of these... but most likely one of these... all over this."

Old Spice Boat Commercial

For those of you who do not know what I'm talking about, it's time to turn on the TV.

His name is Isaiah Mustafa. He is the new face of Old Spice deodorant.

The Man I Could Apparently Smell Like...

It turns out he's this ex-NFL farm team player and even played in the European football leagues. Now he's the new face of Old Spice thanks to Weiden and Kennedey and their "The Man Your Man Could Smell Like" campaign. 

I've been buying Old Spice recently. I used to swear by axe, but I've never been tackled by a dozen smitten women just because I did a double-pits-to-chestie. 

However much I like these advertisements though, I think the newer ones are kind of stupid. I'm talking about the one with Ray Lewis flying the planet destroying raven with a jet engine where its tail feathers should be.

Ray Lewis

I feel like they are just trying too hard at that point. The Isaiah Mustafa advertisements worked so well because they were different without being absolutely outrageous. It was a nice change of scenery from the typical deodorant commercials of hordes of girls jumping the bones of over-sprayed teens. I'm talking about axe and that tag crap. The Isaiah ads broke that pattern. It was a great step in the right direction. But Ray Lewis flying a raven? And then blowing up a planet?

Gimme a fucking break.

I'll take my Ray Lewis playing for the Ravens. 

ba da BA DA BAH ba DA DAH!

(That's the old spice theme.)

Apple vs Android

I bought a macbook when I went to college. Just the basic, all white one.

I bought an iPod when they first came out. Must have been the dancing sillouettes.

I bought an iPhone 2g. I bought an iPhone 3g.

Then I stopped following Jobs and his world of sheek, stylish technology, yet unbelievably out-dated and obsolete.

Oooooohhhhhhh!

Don't get me wrong, if someone offered me a brand new MacBook Pro, for free, I would drop everything to claim my prize. But come on, if I hear one more time how the iPhone 4 is the end-all-be-all of the smart phone line up, I'm going to lose it.

The iPhone 4 is not the best phone on the market. It is not the fastest. It is not the most up to date. Its screen is not the best. Its operating system is not the best. Its cameras are weak. Video Chat is only available on a WiFi network. It can't support additional memory. Its antena is built into the grip of the phone, killing all signal if you hold it a certain way. The AT&T plan is the most expensive smart phone plan on the market.

Watch this video.

iPhone 4 vs. Evo

Hey, the iPhone looks cool though.

Switch to Sprint. It's cheaper, the phones are better, and the 4g network is pretty sick.

Crazy Customers

Let me preface this by letting the world know that I work at Radio Shack. It's kind of embarassing, but I need the money to pay for what financial aid refuses to: the fraternity. And hell, it's an easy job. Mostly I chill in the back room with my co-workers, bullshitting about random stuff until a customer walks in the door and needs some obscure battery.

Come on in. Let me make up some stuff so you'll buy something.

Easy.

Every once in a while though, you get a crazy.

A few days ago I had this woman come in wanting to buy a computer. She was in her fifties, and looked like the typical highland park mom that usually comes in. She found out what frat I was in, and "apparently" her brother was in the frat, and she asked if she could get the computer for free because she's a sister-of-a-brother. I told her no, but made a joke about if she wanted to swing by the back alley at midnight, there may be a computer waiting for her.

She laughed. I laughed. My co-worker laughed. Whatever.

So I explain to her the differences in our computers. I compare them. I might have contrasted them. Next she decides to look at a GPS. Then a cellphone. Then an expensive set of land-line phones. She kept me walking around the store while I tried to sell her a bunch of stuff, but she was too busy telling me her entire fucking life story.

Listen... I don't care.

I get paid on commission. If you buy a big item, I get a percent. If you buy a cellphone? I make bank. If you keep me occupied for two hours telling me everything little thing about yourself, and why you are important, and why I should care, I don't make a damn thing. In fact, I lose money because I lose customers.

She left, finally, after about 3 hours of talking to me, asking me my name, asking if she could buy me dinner, asking all kinds of weird questions, and telling me WAY more personal information than I needed to know.

Then called the store, asked to speak to me, told me I was an awful representation of my fraternity, threatened to have to older ex-frat brother come and "make me buy" her the computer she was looking at. Also, apparently I was extremely offensive.

... because I made that joke about leaving the computer out back... during the first thirty seconds she was in the store.

 Uhhhh...

Look, if you need that much attention, go get a web cam and open up on YouTube. Go and call a friend. No friends? Get on MySpace or Craigslist and go nuts. Don't come into my store and waste my time. I'm gonna assume you're crazy, and treat you accordingly.

I work at Radio Shack on Lovers Lane, if you come in I'll get you half off.

This Social Bubble...

When I first came to SMU, I was blown away by the newly acquired freedom. I had gone to a pretty strict private school in Houston, Texas, and had my wild instincts severely dampened by teachers, parents, and friends alike. All of that changed when I arrived at College. 

From This...

My first night, I ended up at this off campus party drinking with my Spanish roommate and all of his friends. I didn't know anybody at SMU, and I was glad to be included by my new roommate (Even though I spent the majority of the time trying to figure out what was being said - they did not speak in English just for me). I spent the next two semesters going out, drinking, experiencing everything Greenville, and by extension, Dallas, had to offer. 

Then Freshman year ended.

... And Sophomore year was spent going through pledgeship in a fraternity, dealing with the failing health of my father, and trying to convince SMU and the government that I was talented enough to deserve financial aid.

And here I am, a little over two years later, bursting forth into a new social bubble all over again.

Let me tell you something: Nothing beats living in a fraternity house. The food sucks. The noise sucks. The bathrooms suck. But oh my god is it fun. There is always something to do and someone to do it with. I've never experienced anything like it.

... and as a result, can't help but compare it to the first time I began the whole "Freshman-year" experience.

To This.

It's been tough. 

Freshman year was relatively easy to manage. School was not a huge increase in work from my high school. I could balance going out with school, friends, and family.

Now I'm into my major classes, working thirty hours a week, living in a fraternity house, trying to be a new father figure for my sister and mother, making money, spending money, and looking for an internship.

But what's that, bro? Oh, you want to shot gun a beer?

Absolutely.

My Creative License

I was doing some reading for my Introduction to Creativity midterm and came to the part where Gregory insisted I put the book down and draw something.

I listened to his advice:

I do not mean any offense by this, it is just the mood I was feeling. Its tough looking outside and seeing a beautiful sunny day and I'm stuck in the Sigma Chi
House library pouring over advertising and drinking Arizona Ice Tea.

(On a side note, how good is that stuff? Ninety Ninety cents for a huge can? Hell yeah.)

I have never been good at drawing. Or let me rephrase that with a more Danny Gregory friendly
phrase; I have never allowed myself to be good at drawing.

But to be honest, I've never enjoyed drawing very much. One thing I do love though is music, and it is my personal favorite output to be creative. It started a while ago, probably two years ago my freshman year when I met a friend of mine who actually got me into making my own music.

I hate showing people what I've made. I absolutely hate it because it is almost always met with excruciating judgement. I'll only even mention something new I have made to someone if I'm extremely close with
them. And even then I feel self-indulgent and pushy.

But you know what, Gregory said to invite the audience, and enjoy being creative for the sake of being creative.

None of this leaves the room:

Rem the Mad Scientist - A Demonic Encounter


The song is called "A Demonic Encounter."

It starts kind of weird, but it is a joke song, you gotta give it time.

I walk into my room, encounter a demon, then rap battle him in hell.

It's a good family ready rap song.

...
Lots of swearing though.



I made everything you hear, none of that is pre recording loops. I did all the drums and instruments using MixCraft 5 and a virtual keyboard.

I recorded it using a simple USB microphone in my room one day.

Hope this creative license pays off, or I'll have something to say to Mr. Gregory.

A Little Thing That Drives Me Crazy...

Don't judge me for this.

I'm a 6'1", one hundred and eighty pound guy, that I feel like can handle himself in most situations...

But uh...

I uh...

...holy shit, I hate stickers.

I can't even look at this.

Stickers.

Bleghghghghghghhgh.

It's not a fear, or some kind of obscure phobia. I don't need to see a therapist (I don't think...) about it.

But ever since I was a small child, I've just hated them. I hate the way they look, I hate the way they feel, I hate how shiny they are... hell, I just hate 'em.

I think I can trace this hatred back to when I was a small boy in Aberdeen, Scotland. I was sleeping at my cousins house, and they had this tendency of putting stickers on everything - absolutely everything: the wall, the tv, even bowls and stuff like that.

But I didn't hate them then.

No... it was not until I had a bowl of Frosties and took a bite only to choke and gag on a disgusting soggy sticker 

Oh Tony the Tiger, how you betrayed me.

Ever since then, I've gone to great lengths to minimize my contact with stickers.

After getting a shot at the doctors, I would politely refuse the sticker they offered me.

After getting an A on a spelling test in primary school, I would ask the teacher to not include on of those goofy "Great Work!" stickers. 

My freshman year of college, my friends found out about this hatred...

... and then for april fools day COVERED my dorm in stickers. All over my pillow, bed, shower, books, cabinets, toothbrush, etc. EVERYTHING had a sticker on it.

Don't worry though, I got the ring leader back. She hated bananas, so I made it rain in Tom Thumb and hid about a dozen bananas around her room. 

Some people hate spiders, some people hate snakes, and some people hate rats.

Give me a paper towel, and I'll gladly move a spider outside.

I'll run and catch any wild snake.

I'll pick up and play with rats, hamsters, gerbils, etc.

Put me in a room where all of my possessions are covered in stickers though, and I am putty in your hands.

The Best Advice I was Ever Given...

... came from a guy that owned an exotic pet store in Houston.

I used to love reptiles as a kid. My parents used to take me to this pet store called Pets-A-Plenty, kind of this... mom-and-pop run store that held a bunch of animals - everything from little garden geckos to six and a half foot alligators to deadly cobras and anacondas. It was a little boys dream.

One day I went into the store, and the owner's son had a bandage over his hand. He knew me by face and came over to say hello and show me his injury. Apparently while he was handling a Red Cobra, it reared around and bit him on the hand, sinking two venomous fangs into his thumb.

I asked him if it hurt.

He paused for a minute, then grinned. I'll never forget what he said:

"Yeah it hurt, but you should have seen this snake. She was beautiful."

One of the most famous snake bite photos ever. This guy got owned.

I thought this spoke to the man's passion. He was not only willing to care for the snake, but completely unfazed when it sent him to the hospital. I've tried to apply this to my life, my dreams, and my goals. If I could have the same passion for something I was interested in, I don't think I could be stopped.

For now, I'll give everything I have to school.

... even if it rears its ugly head and sends me to the hospital.

After all, I have stepped on the seal in Dallas hall.

 (But that was my second week as a freshman, I'm still here curse, send your tanks.)

Smoke, Smoke, Smoke that cigarette.

I like the song, but I no longer like the subject.

After about a year and a half of smoking relatively frequently, I have quit smoking.

Pause for the cheers.

Yeah, all of that up there? I'm done.

I first started smoking during pledgeship when I was frequently asked for cigarettes. One of the few breaks I got was during the times when brothers were nice enough to invite me to smoke with them. Over time, I smoked them on off times with my pledgebrothers to relax. Eventually, it caught up with me as I began to carry more to make up for the ones I would smoke or lend out to people.

It crippled my bank, but it sure as hell won't cripple my health.

My mom is happy, my girlfriend is happy, my lungs are happy, and I am happy.

It's nice to be done with it, Tex Williams lied to me. It definitely doesn't make you 25% cooler. 

But I'd do anything for a cigarette right now.

... just kidding.

The Moment I realized I was wrong... a boy, a car, and a battle lost to materialism.

I used to drive like an asshole.

When I was a senior in high school, my parents in a triumphant nod to my maturity, helped me buy a used Nissan 350z. It was beautiful - black on black, two seats, manual, mind blowingly quick - my god I loved that car. The months wore on, and while at first I could not drive manual to save my life, I eventually became an expert in slipping the clutch ever so slightly and whipping the car from first to second as smoke rose from the rear and a glass-shattering screech echoed down whatever road I happened to be driving.

Eventually I became more and more fearless, and one stupid thing lead to another, and with every risky move I made I feel more in love with not only my car, but what my car made me.

Then I t-boned someone going 90 in a 35 on April 12th, 2008 and forever changed my life and my mindset.

Fun fact: This happened to be the day after I went to mustang days at SMU for just-accepted orientation or whatever that goofy stuff was back in the day.

The first thing I thought when I hit the woman trying to cross the street was how stupid was she to not recognize my speed. How could she stop in the middle of the road like that? What the hell was she thinking? Why did she take my car away from me? Why why why? Whine whine why me why me...

About a week later I had the biggest reality check when I realized I was wrong, I was the idiot, and I was completely, one hundred and fifty fucking percent at fault.

I will never forget that feeling - it was almost a relief. I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders because I knew I had been wrong. How could I not? I had been dealing with crippling guilt for almost two weeks.

Since then, no more crazy driving, no more aggressive moves, and no more materialistic-my-head-is-so-far-up-my-butt-bullshit.