More Than a Test Score

Band of the moment: Veara

With these here recession times, it’s about as easy to be a teen looking for a summer job as it is to write a three-page essay on The Great Gatsby in sixty minutes. 

But if my English teacher says it can be done, then apparently it’s possible. 

The weather is thawing, school is scrambling to be taken seriously, and teenagers start to realize that loafing around at the local pool all summer is going to be considered kind of lame.  Before you run out to the local mall and grab a stack of random applications though, keep in mind some key pointers. 

For one thing, and I know you’re going to make the same face at me that you give your fretting, overworked high school counselor when you’re arranging next year’s schedules, but do what you like to do.  But seriously.  If you absolutely hate people, then working at the drive-through at Culver’s is not the best thing to do.  You’ll probably end up shooting someone.  Or you’ll just be really disagreeable all summer and people will wonder what crawled into your underwear and died.

In the ideal world, we’d all get summer jobs that would benefit us in the direction we want to go.  That is not to say that a future graphic designer/magazine editor would not ever put to use knowledge about how to make lattes and frappuwhatevers, but sometimes I do wonder why I work at a coffeeshop.  

 I don’t like coffee.  I don’t like cash registers.  I don’t like giant muffins that sit on the counter and stare at you, begging you to eat them with your paycheck money. 

And yet I work about ten hours per week at the adorable local hole-in-the-wall coffeeshop never the less.  So, moral of the story is, don’t be like me in job motives. 

The next thing you should ask yourself is if you even have time.  I had friends who scurried out and applied for jobs and then realized that they weren’t even going to be in the country for half of the summer.

If you’ve never had a legit, part-time, tax-paying, minimum-wage-pushing job before, realize that it’s going to take up time.  A lot.  No more random twittering, hanging out with friends, living, breathing.  None of it.  All your time becomes job time.  You’ll be chained to the cash register/check out counter/whatever. 

No. I’m kidding.  But it seems that way after a few weeks. 

Give extreme, unwarranted consideration to the place you want to work at.  Is it big or small?  In translation, how many people work there at a time?  

I can see you scoffing at this question.  But think about it.  Working at a larger place like Menard’s or Walmart guarantees that under no uncertain circumstances will you ever be left to fend for yourself against cash registers and customers and boredom.  You’ll always have someone there to save your butt. 

A small place like a tiny cornerstore coffeehouse, not so much.  Where I work, I’m often the only one in there.  Now, this does mean I can get away with making “practice smoothies” and turning up the music as loud as desired and belting away the lyrics…but when I get inevitably pwned by the cash register (you might not have noticed but I’m starting to hate those things) and its antics…I have no one to turn to.  And so I end up getting a lot of pity tips, yes, but I also have those moments where I want to wither up and die because the customer is doubting my mental facilities.  

Plus, more employees on the job means more people to split up the chores with. 

Make sure it’s a place where the employee discount will actually work.  This is hypocritical of me to say (see that anti-coffee rant above) but the smoothies at the coffeeshop are excellent, especially when half-off, as they are for us employees.  But if you hate Abercrombie clothes, working there will not do you any good.  As glamorous as it is to say that you give discounts to your friends, it doesn’t ever work that way.  People realize that doing so flagrantly will get their butt fired. 

And last but not least, keep it close to home.   Cause who really wants to commute two hours to slave away under minimum wage?

The weather is getting wormer, jellyfish are taking over the planet and final exams are reaching their sweet finale. Summer is here, AKA swimsuits season! I don’t know about you, but shorts, mini dresses and tiny tops are sweeping Israel’s malls. That brings us to the endless bother of life: getting fit for summer. Ok, maybe May is slightly late to start thinking about finally going to the gym, or breaking up with my true love – chocolate chip ice cream. But definitely, on time to bring up the repeatedly buried dilemma – what can possibly be motivating enough to make us struggle our way off the comfy sofa, that has the amazing view on the TV and the perfect location between the kitchen the remote control, and intentionally sweat?

A reliable muscularly male source reported that he’s been working out to impress the ladies, while a skinny female source statement that she’s working out to feel good about herself and be healthy. I’m not judging, nor am I saying that there are right reasons and wrong reasons to work out, but as former slightly chubby kid, I’m just wondering why it was so momentously important to get fit?

Neglecting wonderfully yummy desert was definitely not a choice of a free will, nor was getting up early every Saturday in order to exercise the result of same. Even though personal health and well being plays a leading role, the desire to get some impressed remarks and looks around the streets (on the beach, in the mall… well, you get the idea) is unquestionably a loved co-star.

And besides, aren’t we all still programmed at the same way as our ancient primitive versions. Sure, the times have changed, but is it still a reflex that makes us act the way we do? Or is it just all about the looks?

I don’t think that this confusing diarrhea of thoughts and wonders would end any time soon. So, please let me hopelessly beg for your opinions. Why do people work out, and stress so much about their weight and appearance? Is it just for personal well-being, or another attempt to lure our new crush? (Summer, cute lifeguards, we all know that cliché)

My head was spinning when I walked into the gym; I felt as if all the breath had been forced from my lungs.  Who knew the Marion High School gym could clean up so well? There was something about the way the lights encircled the dance floor and how the streamers hung that just made everything feel so prom like. It was dark, luxurious, and gorgeous. I guess the fact that I felt beautiful helped quite a bit too.

I was wearing a borrowed dress with borrowed shoes, my hair had been curled with a borrowed curling iron in my small bathroom, and borrowed makeup glittered on my face. But the way it all blended together in the end, made the look purely mine. I was a fifteen-year-old girl at my first prom. I felt like a princess.

I spent that night dancing with my cousins and trying to muster up the courage to ask the cute senior boy, whom I’d had a crush on all year, to dance while I ogled all the older people around me. Someday, I told myself, that’s going to be me. If anything, the prom only made me more excited for my own. It lifted my expectations and left me with a strong yearning for the moment when my prince-charming-date would pin a corsage to my wrist and whisk me away to one of the best nights of my life.

I can’t say I was disappointed when, two years later, I walked into the Honeywell Center with a purple-flowered corsage glittering on my wrist only to have the breath knocked out of me once again. If the prom I’d went to as a freshman was amazing, this prom was Spectacular. Beyond spectacular. Hanging in the center of the ceiling was a huge crystal chandelier with large strips of white silk attached to it’s center, spreading out to reach the walls.  All the tables were covered with white tablecloths of the same fabric, with rose petals scattered across them. The center pieces were 1-foot miniature Eiffel towers, and a lovely photo album sat at each place, ready to be filled. The music was quite brilliant, and the dance floor was huge with lights criss-crossing all over the floor. And, of course, there was a HUGE big screen television on stage which played music videos to go with every song.

Perhaps this prom is the reason I was so disappointed with my own (which took place a couple weeks later). After all that glamour, the crappy paper mache decorations and the live goldfish that were used as center-pieces just seemed crappy. I suppose it didn’t help that my best friend, who was there as my “date”, had her drink spiked. Total mood-killer. All in all, it was a complete waste of forty dollars and painfully hand-stitched tulle tu-tus.

So now, as prom time rolls around once again, I am left with a difficult decision. To Prom or not to Prom?

I mean, the entire point of graduating early was to SAVE my money, not spend it. What if it’s a total waste just like last year? Or, what if I don’t go and end up missing out on something great. My last chance to really hang out with all my friends before we go off to college… does that justify spending like $300 just to look pretty and dance while drinking punch? My heart and mind are battling; I’m not quite sure which will win.

So tell me friends, Prom or no-Prom?

Wander around an arena crammed with teens (think the mall, concerts, or even opening night of the Hannah Montana movie) and it won’t take long for your ears to pick up something like this:

“That was so lame.”

And yet, not one brain registers this blasphemous misuse of language, much less objects.

Improper remarks litter our daily conversations, slipping past our tongues without even a second thought to the meaning. No, the phrase is not a stab at the disabled, but rather another synonym to the word “stupid”. Yet, have we ever paused to think of the connotation of the language?

Stop for a second and think about the conversations that you’ve had in the past 24 hours. Do the words “retarded”, “Jew” and “gay” ring a bell? Derogatory epithets are especially prevalent in this generation even if they are not necessarily targeted at a certain group of individuals.

Take the word “geek” for example, used to refer to the “nerds”, another offensive term. Originally in the 19th century, the word meant a bizarre circus performer. Specifically, a bizarre circus performer who likes to bite the heads off chickens.

So essentially, we’re equating the academically successful to a freak who enjoys ripping heads of live poultry.

That’s saying a lot about our Hollister-clad, I-can’t-live-without-my-cell-phone, Twitter-obsessed teenage culture. And not in a good way either.

Given, the evolution of language is completely natural and unavoidable. For example, as a person born in the 30’s the definition of gay and they’ll answer “bright and merry”. Ask another born a couple of decades later and they’ll respond “homosexual”. However, ask a typical teen today and they’ll most likely reply “stupid”.

Survival of the fittest (word that is). It’s enough to make Darwin proud…

Why do we have such a predisposition to adopt words negatively? There are a plethora of other terms synonymous to stupid (foolish, dumb, boneheaded, etc.), why is it that our language have solidified incorrectly used words appropriate synonyms? Ultimately, the connotation is that being different, whether regarding religion, ethnicity, political position, physical appearance, or sexual preference is a bad thing.

Reality check: The grand old U. S. of A., known an the “Melting Pot” for a reason, will never be homogeneous.

It’s time for a language update. Eliminate these words so that we, as a society, don’t use them anymore. Filter he slangs and eventually, the meaning will die out.

WARNING: MAY BE PLOT SPOILERS( if you live under a rock and have never read the books.)

And the Grammy goes to…. Harry and the Potters?

Well, probably not any time soon. Unless they decide to create a category for “Best Wizard Rock Album”.

That’s right, Wizard Rock. And we all know which wizards I’m talking about (hint: the ones from JK Rowling’s best selling book series, “Harry Potter”). I acknowledge that the book series is complete( I still shed a tear over Fred Weasley every now and then) and there are only 3 more movies to go. But what limits fandom to literature and cinema?

And that’s where Wizard Rock comes in. Attributed to brothers/Harry and the Potters members Joe and Paul DeGeorge, the genre was founded in 2002. You can read them full story on here, but pretty much music love + Harry Potter love = Wizard Rock(also known as wrock). Well, it’s Hogwarts, a History( coincidentally another wrock band) from there. There are now over 500 wrock bands.

While the wizard part is entirely correct, the rock part it slightly misleading. Wrock music takes influences from all genres, from “Swish and Flick”‘s hip hop beats to “Voldemort”‘s heavy metal throwbacks. I mean, tell me you’re at least a little tempted to watch documentaries like “The Wizard Rockumentary: A Movie About Rocking and Rowling” or “We are Wizards“

Even if you’re proud to be a muggle and can’t stand anything Harry Potter, there’s one thing you should appreciate. Many Wizard Rock bands work with charities. Often bands will play at libraries to benefit organizations like “First Book”, that promote literacy. The “Harry Potter Alliance” is another organization related to the genre, that brings awareness to issues found in the book that relate to real world issues such as discrimination (“Wizard Rock EP club of the Month” anyone?). While we don’t exactly have to worry about Cornelius fudge in the states, Wrock also dabbles in politics. During the elections there were campaigns to “Wrock the Vote” and the DeGeorge brothers were reppin the Democratic campaign with a wordplay “Voldemort Can’t stop Barack.”

It’s not that musically epic, but it’s fun. Really fun. “Emo Fawkes” by The Sneakoscopes(Fawkes, get your emo on/we need some phoenix tears tonight), “I Heart Weasleys” by Ministry of Magic (We’re the Weasley clan and we love everybody/If you came over you’d be a Weasley too. Yes, it’s true.), and the list goes on and on.

Okay, maybe you do have the heart of a Deatheater and don’t care about the world. But at least give the music a listen. Because “A Ministry Approved Christmas” is the best holiday song since the Maine’s cover of Wham!’s “Last Christmas”.

Check Out: http://wizrocklopedia.com, http://wizrocklopedia.com/bands/band-listings/, http://www.wizardrockumentary.com/merch.html, http://www.wizardrockumentary.com/merch.html