The First 100 Posts

First off, the blog is neither dead nor dieing. I think the blog is much more enduring than the ocho's foray into jumpstyle. I haven't posted in over a month now (ok much more than a month), but I like to think that the blog and I were just on a break. You know, like a break in a relationship when you say that you need time apart to figure out how you feel about each other, but really just want to break up but it's too hard to just say it so you draw it out for a long time. But in my case, I really didn't want to break from teh blog for good, and I've come to realize that the blog still means a lot to me, and I hope I still mean a lot to it.

Anyway, I'm going to post more about my summer and some original content soon--after I wake up hopefully, or after the weekend if I don't have time--but for now I'm going to post what I was going to post a while ago before the blog and I took a break.

I was planning on commemorating the first 100 post of our blog with allusions parralleling it to the first 100 days of a presidency. However, neither is this still topical nor do I have the energy to think up many such allusions at the moment, so here are some of the highlights I was planning on posting before:

• Stadium 110 enters the blogosphere
• The blog goes down after one day, but has been going strong since.
  
• 5% of our posts supposedly pertain to wingsuits. Not bad, but we could do better.
• Mark posts an entire manifesto, makes a lot of veiled threats about future posts, so far has failed to follow through on most.
• We say farewell to BK, on a sad day the fellowship is broken
  
• BK is voted the most popular member of stadium 110.
  
• The 12 steps to the best spring term ever
• BK arrives in Russia, begins writing his novel: Russia and Me: The BK Story.
• Alfredo makes an appearance.
  
• Tim and I give the first lesson in our drinking course. Apparently we've been too hung over to show up for any more lessons.
• Stadium 110 goes live all over the world. We still do it sometimes here.
• The blog withers for a week, but is revived with: A recap of the missing week, a much more fuzzy recap of the previous weekend, more wingsuit related content, and some dank ass astro shit.
• The International Year of Stadium 110 begins on the 21st day of the first lunar cycle after the vernal equinox.
• BK adds a bunch of pictures to his novel.
• World Clock Wall!!!
• Jumpstyle comes to Stadium 110.
• And what ended up being the 100th post: Mark becomes a published author (not just on the blog) and, despite being drunk, is still as coherent as most of the other submissions in The CLAP

I think this list shows we accomplished quite a bit of blogging in our first one hundred posts, and maybe it will serve as inspiration to revive the blog. Keep checking in, because I'm sure there is a lot of good stuff to come in the next 1,361 posts (yes, that is an allusion).

By the way, for those still celebrating, today--the Aphelion, the fourth of July on the Gregorian calendar, Independence Day in America, Liberation Day in Rwanda--is the 13th day of the 4th lunar phase of the International Year of Stadium 110.

My Summer as a Camp Counselor

My turn for a mid-summer "oh hello there, I still exist" blog post.

This summer I am working at a YMCA summer camp (or a "Cult Camp" if your name is Tim) in Western Michigan. After a week of orientation and two sessions, we take a week of for the week of July fourth. So until Saturday, I am back in the OP to relax with my HS friends, eat some delicious non-camp food, and rest up for what we call the marathon.

The marathon is 5 weeks straight with no extended break. Starting July 5th and going until August 10th. Yes, we do get some weekends off. But let me explain that a weekend off at camp only lasts from 5:00pm on Friday (when the last kid finally leaves and we have our staff meeting) to Sunday at 10:00am, when we have our start-of-the-session staff meeting. Not much of a weekend if you ask me (but when the kids are gone, the wonderful balance of mischief and relaxation is king). But the marathon is fun, and it when all the unorganized bullshit that exists in the beginning of the summer has been figured out.

It's been fun so far. I'm working with the teens this summer, so for the past two weeks, I was training 16 year olds how to be a counselor. In other words, what to do with kids who are homesick, vomiting profusely, or starting fights with other campers. But its a little more than that. There is a big child psychology aspect to it, which through teaching it to others, I have learned more about it myself.

One example is positivity. A child is less willing to respond to, "Don't leave that wet, sandy towel on the cabin floor." than to "Can you please pick up that towel off the cabin floor?" It may seem like a "duh" principle, but consider how often you say the words "no," "not," "stop," or "don't." It may surprise you. Try speaking in only positive terms for a day. If you are a lifeguard for example, say "Walk on the deck!" instead of "No running on the deck!" It's actually really tough. Or at least for me. I can never last more than an hour, but then again, I have to deal with kids who are doing stuff they aren't supposed to be doing practically my whole day.

I realize that my summer job is pretty untraditional. But I wouldn't have it any other way. I do more in the time from when I wake up (7:00am Michigan time) to when I go to bed (11ish) than many people do in a whole week. I also am outside for the whole day, except for when I am eating Breakfast, Lunch or Dinner, or sleeping. But thats not even true, I've been sleeping in a tent for the last 3 weeks. Being outside that much is good for the soul. And it means that I'm probably more tan than everyone except for our funemployed friend from Cali.

Elliot often told me last year that soon I will have to get a real job. That may not be the case... First off, for what I want to do with my life (teach), I don't really need an internship. And if the point of an internship is to get real-life experience in your field, being in charge of a dozen or so kids at a summer camp is fairly close to actual teaching. Plus, I'm climbing up the ladder at my camp. Some of the more administrative posts are opening up next summer, which opens up a new type of position and experience, to be sure. So maybe I'll just delay the real world for a few more years/summers. I know I get paid crap, but I don't really need the money at this time in my life and it's the most fun I've ever had.

That being said, every time "I Love You Always Forever," "Someone Great," "You've lost that Lovin Feeling," "Jumpin All Over the World," "White Collar Boy," Chromeo or The Go! Team comes on my iPod (thank you SadSteve), I get reminiscent of the past year and the epicness that was Stadium 110.

So I hope everyone reading this is doing well and that your summers are enjoyable.


Also, only a few will understand this: I brought Charlie to camp with me and I am carefully planning some big ol prank with him. So stay tuned.

The new way to look at joblessness: Funemployment

As we are all aware, unemployment in the U.S. is at levels that have not been seen in quite some time. Moreover, as members of the graduating class of 2009, those of us entering the real world (ie no grad school are part of "generation screwed." These past couple of weeks have been tough, until I realized something new, something revolutionary, there can be some fun in unemployment. Now it is with great pleasure that I introduce you to a new way of living without a job or the prospect of a job.....funemployment.

The first pillar of funemployment requires one to actively seek a job. The fun aspect of fun employment can only happen if the person is trying to find a job.

So now let's get to the good stuff:

Pillar 2: Spend some time during the day looking for a job, and dedicate the rest of the day to something fun. You'll feel good about yourself knowing that you looked for a job (send out a resume or two) then go live like you have no obligations.

Pillar 3: Funemployment can not occur if you are impatient. As many older people will tell you, jobs do not come in a day. There are some rare exceptions, but no one is going to hire you as their new CFO right away.

Pillar 4: Try to hang out with your funemployed friends. No one likes to hang out alone. You can do a resume session then go to a surf session. Maybe you share job insights then go pound a few......beers

Pillar 5: To be honest, a lot of funemployment is based on the person who is living it. Post a comment or two and express how you live the life of funemployment.

As allways, I'm sure my enttry is filled with spellying mistakes, so fel free to korrect them.

Untitled.

The lack of original content over the past few weeks has brought this blog to a point of near death: we've got a pulse, we're just not breathing (too soon?).  I can only hope that my efforts at resuscitation prove more effective than those of the cardiologist Dr. Conrad Murray (too soon?).  

That being said, there are a number of very important issues that I would like to throw out on the electronic "table" for your consideration.  Many, if not all, have to do with what I have experienced since I arrived home late last Sunday night, the 21st of June.

I shall start by saying that as dogs age, they calm down.  I never thought this would ever happen with my dogs.  They are two of the most rambunctious, energetic, and neurotic creatures known to man.  They always have been.  I figured they always would be.  But now, at the ancient ages of 9 and 11, they are beginning to chill.  They sleep all the fucking time.  You used to not be able to enter or leave the house without a barrage of barks from both of the bitches.  Now, you can do either and hear nary a noise.  The best part is, if you enter the house while they've been sleeping, they wake up once the door opens and amble down the hallway towards you with these bleary-eyed looks on their faces, partially annoyed that you came home and thus woke them up, but also completely guilt-stricken since they know they weren't competently performing the only job they've been given - guarding the god damned house.

So since I got home, I really haven't done a ton.  I've been searching for jobs, talking to alumni, doing a little bit of research work for a small renewable energy start-up, playing Frisbee twice a week, and eating ice cream while watching movies.  I've been "out" 3 times.  The first time I went "out", I went to Bray's Brewpub in Naples, ME.  I played horseshoes in the dark as I drank their "Stanley Steamer UnCommon Ale".  I eventually was driven home by a friend.  We drove through Windham, ME instead of taking the shorter route because we (I) wanted food.  We went to Burger King and enjoyed some chicken fingers.  We realized that you can get four piece tenders from the dollar menu, but an eight piece for 2.69.  So, needless to say, we got two four piece orders and saved $.69.  Just remember, whatever you do, don't go to bed before the King.

After Burger King (which I must add, we went to partially because I had just seen those commercials linked above), we went to Tim Horton's and got an Iced Cappuccino and a sour-cream-glazed donut.  Hell yeah.  Given that none of you Stadium dwellers have a Tim Horton's in your state, I will be courteous enough to give you some background information.

So this brings me to the second time I went out.  If I recall correctly, it was actually the first time I went out, but since I didn't play horseshoes and drink "Stanley Steamer's UnCommon Ale", it wasn't as memorable, so I'm mentioning it now.  I went to the Dogfish Bar and Grille on Free Street in Portland, ME, where I met my sister for a few beers.  The Dogfish is the sponsor of my adopted summer league frisbee team, and is a place where my sister once worked.  It's probably one of the best restaurants in Portland (if you ever decide to visit), as it provides a great atmosphere, a low cost, and pretty much kick ass food.  We discussed life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, drank two Rogue Dead Guy Ales each, and then I went home to bed.

The third time I went out was last night, a Monday.  I met my brother, sister, and a friend of theirs at The Snug, another bar in Portland.  It's an Irish Pub, and let me tell you, they don't fuck around in there.  I'd never been 'til last night, but apparently over Christmas my brother went in, wearing an argyle sweater.  He paid with an orange debit card, and the bartender, when taking his card, looked at him and said, "Look at you with your orange card, ya fancy fuck!"  The Snug was decent, but we got bored, so we went to Brian Boru.  While Brian Boru is the name of an Irish king, it is also another Irish pub in the quaint city of Portland, ME.  It's also probably the only place that had anything going on last night.  There was a one-man gig going, a dude with a guitar, singing some sweet tunes.  I will get to this more in a second.  

But first, I'm going to make a comment on drink prices.  Last night's special: PBR tall boys, $2.00.  First off, that's a deal.  No place in Northfield would ever come close to 16 oz. of beer for $2.00.  After that, I ordered a black and tan.  A black and tan at the cow costs $6.50.  At Brian Boru it cost me $4.75.  For Little Orphan and Nonberg, that adds up to $1.75 saved!  Bottom line: prices in Northfield are terrible.  That's the one single reason I can find that makes me happy to have left the place.

So, we're sitting in Brian Boru, listening to this dude play some music.  After playing, "The Weight" (Take a load off Annie, take a load for free), he said he was done.  Then he started playing Stairway to Heaven, and improvised all the lyrics.  He talked about the bar, the bartenders ("His name is Jim, because that's what his motherfucking Mom named him"), and used the refrain "Now I'm drunk" and also the line "It's not close to closing time so buy more beer".  I wish I had a recording, because it was hilarious.  Unreal.  It will never happen again.  But it was all to the tune of Stairway to Heaven.  He played the whole damned song, and improvised all of the lyrics.

Completely switching gears now.  You may or may not recall that I woke up Sunday morning of sixth weekend and could not move my right leg.  My knee cap was swollen much larger than it should have been.  This was the result of an unfortunate stumble I took while running with broken sandals.  I ended up essentially laying out onto the concrete in front of Brooks House.  But, as I did not bleed anywhere, I kept telling everyone I was superhuman.  I did not know that my knee was incredibly, incredibly hurt.  So, I woke up the next morning and my first words were "Fuck, I can't move my knee.  That hurts so much."  So, the pain subsided and I could walk again.  I figured everything was fine.  But, after seven weeks, I still can't kneel on it and there seems to be an indentation in my patella with a bunch of chunks of something moving around.  So, I called the doctor, explained, and he didn't even bother seeing me.  He just said, "We're referring you to the orthopedist.  You'll get x-rays."  Tight.

Lastly, I highly recommend working Reunion to any underclassmen that read this.  I cannot publish the reasons why.