Street Art and Fun

I got this from here. I really didn't look at that site very long, so I have no judgments or opinions on it, but this particular pic of some grafitti seemed to catch my attention. I think in particular, my fascination (...an overexaggeration) with this stems from the trauma of all those standardized tests that I've been forced to take since grade school. At least in grade school though, the threat only came from nuns with rulers and with a penchant to grab the hair on the back of your neck. When high school hits, the standardized tests become of greater and greater import...as things like college and potential careers begin to register in your brain as standing off the horizon with a scowl and a determination to make your life miserable.

At any rate, I'm going to visit Beth this weekend in West Lafayette, and with the World Series going on in Chicago this weekend, it seemed like a more than fantastic idea to try to buy tickets for one of the games this weekend. I made a comment of this to my lovely brother, and before I knew it, I was knee-deep (luckily not in fertilizer, as in the ad hanging inauspiciously amongst ads for proctologists and bail bondsmen in the outfield walls in "Cleveland Stadium" in the movie Major League II) trying to coordinate a massive effort to get my brother to fly stand-by on Continental, using my uncle's buddy pass, to Indy.

A whole bunch of complications arose from this:
1) We were planning on going to the Sunday night game to accomodate Beth's friend's friends (I think you need to use some sort of associative or distributive property of algebra to figure out that massive and inane possessive phrase. You will also find that the phrase does NOT commute. To do this, you will need to treat "Beth" and "friend" as linear possessive operators and work from there.). Unfortunately, Scott would not be able to go because, and this is a testament to the will and power of my father, "SCOTT MAY NOT MISS SCHOOL, AND THOU SHALT NOT MISS SCHOOL EITHER OR I WILL EMERGE FROM THE BLOODY SEAS TO SQUASH YOU FOR YOUR IMPUDENCE AND ILL-TIMING."

2) I had made the proposal to Scott that I would graciously and benevolently purchase either a) his ticket to the game or b) his stand-by buddy passes to and from Cleveland (note that both of the showcases in this showdown are of equal to near equal value) as an early birthday present to him. The natural consequence of this is that I would NOT buy both. I made the logical recommendation that he seek assistance from dad and implore the "But My Birthday is in Two Weeks" clause, made famous in the year nineteen-dickety-two. My father was again unrelenting on this extremely not-so-trivial issue. Scott then made the "If You Pay for me, I'll Get You Back Later" clause of aught-five. And in the wild and frenzied moment, I all too generously agreed to clear out my bank account in the name of having a fraternal presence with me at the World Series. THE F'ING WORLD SERIES!!!

3) It was made known to me that the tickets would go on sale on whitesox.com starting at 12:00 PM on Tuesday the 18th of October. Since Beth and I had made the concession to go to the Saturday night game instead of the Sunday night game in order to accomodate Scott, I made plans to spend the entire time between my Math Methods and Quantum Mechanics courses inside the Blocker Computer Lab.

4) I began making travel preparations for this postseason convoy. Using very delicate and precise intstruments to predict the probability of me and my brother successfully getting onto flights as standby passengers, I began slowly and methodically navigating the pages of Continental's employee website in order to build a monstrous itinerary from the ground-up by scratch (and when I say scratch, I MEAN scratch...I was summoning and directing the most fundamental of particles, such was the care and expertise that I exhausted on this particular endeavor and most noble of causes).

After intense deliberations with my brother over possible flights and heated debates with Beth over possible places to stay, everything seemingly began to come together. Periodically, I was forced to retreat to my corner where I begged my trainer, "Cut me Mick, Cut me." But I kept my "Eye on the Prize," and slowly, but surely, my confidence began to grow. I was navigating the internet with a swagger and had the look of a champion in my eye.

It was at this point that Scott told me that he had to take the ACT on Saturday morning. Sadly, all was for naught. Sucks. Which brings me back to my point, in standardized tests, you're just another number in the system, a statistic, a casualty. You're not an individual; you're a barcode. You can take your dreams, aspirations, and desires and flush them along with your World Series hopes right down the toilet.

Oh yah...and within fifteen minutes of going on sale, the tickets for both games this weekend could no longer be bought in a pair or triplet or quadruplet...

Sucks. I hate the White Sox. Serves me right for trying to go see them in the World Series.