Calling Out Ingrid

I went running on Monday afternoon. When I'm running, I try to not think at all about how many miles I have in front of me, so as not to psych myself out of going the distance. I do this by thinking of something random and really dissecting it till I just forget that I'm running altogether. The subject this time was extremely random, as usual: The lyrics of an indie-pop (yes that's a genre) song by Ingrid Michaelson called "The Way I am." Before I went on my Monday run, I really liked the song. Catchy and mellow, sweet and soft, it would come on from time-to-time on the RyPod. But as I began really thinking about it, an evil truth was revealed.

The focal point of this song is that Ingrid's kool-aid accepts her as she is and that's vital to her love for him. "You take me the way I am." Lovely sentiment, for sure. The problem comes in the third verse when the song-writer exposes that she may not actually reciprocate that feeling specifically. "I'll buy you rogaine, if you start losing all your hair, sew on patches, to all you tear." Really Ingrid? Really?

Here's this man that you're writing a love song for, and the chorus, and the most important line of the entire ballad, is that he takes you for who you are. Follow that up with a verse that says you'll help him change who he is, to fit the image of who you want him to be. Why don't you take him for who he is--a guy with some holes in his clothes who may bald at some point down the road--since he did the same with you. I mean that's the entire purpose of the song, and it's copletelely negated within its own structure.

You should know that I take umbrage with this on a personal level also, adding fuel to this blogfire. First off, I have certain clothes with holes in them, not many mind you, but there are some items I believe have character, and I don't want to get rid of them. Nor do I want my squeeze to sew patches on them. I think it's really sweet that you'd be willing to do that, but unless I ask for it, back off broad! Secondly, I'm getting thin up top. I'm not a fan of it, but hey, you can't exactly control the genes you're born with. If I want to take action to control it, that ball's in my court. But please, I'm not settling for someone who needs hair on my head, especially if they're writing songs about how they love me because I accept them for who they are. Similarly, I've always said that I don't try to stay in good shape for anyone else. I do it because it gives me a boost, makes me feel better on a daily basis, which translates to improvements in various other aspects of life. That said, I'm not going to bend to the shallow demands of someone else. Why? Because as Ingrid says they should, "take me the way I am."

The song just seems like a contradiction in terms for me now, which is frustrating in a way because I did at one point enjoy it. Now I'm in the awkward "Rage Against the Machine Zone" which is when you love a tune and hate the lyrics/message of the piece.

Not quite as awkward as the, "oh crap, my Mom reads my blog zone", but that's a tale for another day. Moral of the current day's story: Never trust a cutie pie, especially one who poses with an apple on her head.

Trivial Titling Issues

So I recently, and tentatively, settled on the name "City Cows" for my blog. If you don't understand that name you should read this blog entry...

http://ryforry.blogspot.com/2009/03/city-cows.html

I don't know how long it will stick but I'm trying to find a good blog-name that fits. I like the following also:

1) Greenbleeding- The original title, a bit dated because most of my entries aren't about the Eagles

2) Bi-Polar Bear- Most people wouldn't understand this

3) Ikeem Bart Coppin'- Again, many people wouldn't understand this, but at least in this case it's freakin awesome. It relates to my awesome bastardization of the English language on a daily basis.

4) Cheesesteak Fiend- Just doesn't flow too well, although the Philly tie in

5) Love Parking- Now I'm grasping at straws, (and using awful sayings to express myself) Let's move on....

And the HEAVY FAVORITE to win the blog title is.....

6) Front Porch Lounging- What's not to love. I get creative on my front porch. I love to lounge out there with a cold one, or a date, or a friend. "Front porch lounging" is a reference to a G-Love song so it incorporates one of my biggest lyrical/stylistic inspirations and the city we both hail from: The city of any true cheesesteak fiend.

So until further notice, that will be the name. Any feedback on this issue of the utmost importance would be welcome.

Got 99 Problems and a Blog Entry is One

So i got this problem. 3 of them actually.

The first is that my blog is going to get put in a foster home where it can find someone to care for and sustain it. I feel like whenever one person slacks off on writing entries, other people in that same "network" begin to drag as well. The more material you read, the more you want to write, especially if your style is similar to the blogs you frequent. Is this me saying that I've failed to write much more because others have dropped the ball? No. Is this my inner-narcissist saying that others have less to say due to my ineptitude? No. Is this me rambling on and on in hopes that you may actually consider it a viable blog entry? Uh Oh. Busted....

The second is that I have no reason to be neglecting my blog this much. My life has been nothing short of an (at very least moderately) entertaining story. I got a ton of subject matter. I have some free time to write, but for whatever reason have been utilizing the time elsewhere. It doesn't make sense.


The third issue I have is that my blog is called "CS Lewis" which is not what I wanted the title to be. I do, however want the CS Lewis quote and I want to cite the man properly, given he's a genius, while keeping my page looking snazzy. But I don't want people thinking the name of my blog is actually CS Lewis. I have to find a way to fix this once I'm done ranting about it here.

Actually I have 4 problems. I miss Tommy Boy "Tomas" Buchanan. Nights sipping Hurricanes with him were a staple of my in-semester blues medication. Hopefully I stay sane in the months to come without my owlbrother around. I am currently working out some details to take the plane out to Chi-town to visit him. I feel like Liz, excited at the prospect of flying to the Windy City to see family.


Numbers Game:

3- Problems I addressed just now
2- Friends' names I dropped in this blog entry
1- Neglected blogger webpage that may disown me as its author


PS- I really want to start doing video entries and putting some awkwardly home-recorded tunes on. I gotta start incorporating more media forms on this bad boy.

The Early Bird Gets the Grumpy Ryan

I don't know if I've ever written on this topic, but I do know that it needs to be addressed, even if it is a rerun.

"The early bird gets the worm."
What a dumb saying on multiple levels. I could get into why it is so ridiculous, but I want to get to the point quicker.

I'm a night person. Give me my sleep from 4am-10am and I'm happy. If I need extra sleep I can hit the hay between 1 and 2. I thrive on the night life, both the loud, crazy nights out and the ones where I feel like I'm the only waking soul in the 215. I have the most fun at night, do the best thinking at night, write the best, work out the best, concentrate the best and am in the best mood, all at night. I hate mornings. Please don't talk to me, look at me, don't even think about me in the mornings. My brain is in warm-up mode, whether I had breakfast or not. Sure, coffee helps at first, but I'd rather not have a caffeine crash in the early afternoon after injecting myself with javamazingness. I've learned to pick and choose my spots with coffee so that I can get the most out of it, and appreciate our times together more (See: pajama pants in my last post)So since I'm not slaying D and D drinks at an alarmingly fast rate anymore, I need something to get through my morning. It's called mental solitude.

I post this subject today because upon leaving my (waaaay too) early class this morning I ran into an old high school mate of mine. She apparently is much more of a morning person than myself after further review of our brief convo. I was trying to stay engaged as we went through the normal small-talk routine, but I think she could tell I was zoned out with no hope of my concentration being resuscitated. And she's a great girl, it's not like it was an overwhelming burden making chit-chat with her for 2 minutes...except for the fact I was in morning Ryan mode.

If you see me before the clock strikes 10 and I am surely and miserable, do not take it personally. You could have the best of intentions and be the nicest person to cross paths with, but I will hate you temporarily for acknowledging my existence. Just a good thing to know about me. If I am cheery before 10 and looking like jolly ole Saint Nick on the 25th of December, you can bet there's a reason that such is the case.

I have much more to say on this issue but my mind has only been turned on for an hour and a half, so I'll get back to my day and let you get back to yours.

Los Pantalones de Pajamas

Question: Is there anything more comfortable than a good pair of pajama pants. Answer: Absolutely not.

I busted out my pj pants from my my dresser for the first time in months. I'm writing this very tribute in them presently. See I don't like wearing pants during the hot months, even if they are to comfort what Jesus was to God (the physical embodiment of it). So every time I bust out the pinstriped wonders, they feel more phenomenal than the time before. Even the best, most perfectly suited couples can grow in love for one another when they take some time apart. Such is the case with me and my p-jammies. When the temp drops to below 65, they are ready to go without any complaining.

Just to give you some history on the pj pants, we've been going strong for 6 years now. A friend (who shall remain nameless so as to avoid incrimination) and I used to once in a long while, during our renegade years, receive 5-finger discounts from a well know chain department store. I was a punk kid for sure. But sometimes good things can be extracted from bad periods of life. My relationship with the pants is proof. Yeah, we met under shady circumstances, but true love, or comfort, conquers all.

I can wear my pj bottoms anywhere, but intentionally choose not to. They must be worn only in certain situations. You just know when the time is right, it's hard to explain how. I prefer to wear them shirtless, not so I can sport my rock hard bod. Few people see me in them anyway. Rather, I go topless in them because they feel like I'm cramping their style if I wear other clothes with them too frequently. Also, they serve as legwarmers under my jeans when its super cold out. I figure, if they do that dirty work, they definitely deserve their moment in the spotlight.

So gracias los pantalones de pajamas. I salute you and will drink to your many years providing comfort and toast to many more to come.

Exclamation Points

I slept 5 hours last night. Why does that matter you ask? Well dear friend, if I slept 3-5 hours on a school night it'd be one thing. I usually get that much while in the hustle of a Monday to Friday routine. But on a weekend night when I soak up whatever rest I can get like a sponge-sunlight combo, well, let's just say there has to be a reason my z's are cut short.

And there certainly is. Birds. Not the creatures my Dad goes out and watches on his days off, the pigskin variety. Time and time again I have written about my indescribable excitement for a specific football game that our Eagles have been a part of. Opening Day is one of those times. I am way too amped to be sleeping. To be honest, I'm way to amped to be waking. I fire off text messages in ALL CAPS WITH NUMEROUS EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!! That's just what I do come Football season. God created football to get man through the difficult transition out of summer bliss. Never forget that.

Just so you know, I'm officially back on the Donovan train, at least until he makes me karate chop my TV again. As intolerable as he is sometimes, our season rests on his shoulders, and I would still take 5 over the great majority of QBs in the league. Not to mention he's my fantasy quarterback, so any financial bonuses I can acquire rest on his right arm as well. So in the words of T.O., "I love Donovan", if only for the fleeting hours before the opening game.

FOOTBALL BABY!!!! BIRDS SEASON!!! IT'S HERE!!!

Big League Talent

Oh yea, that's right. 4 blogs in 5 days. Someone cue the Lloyd Banks track, "IM ON FIRE, KEEP HEATIN UP IM ON FIYAAAH. As Chuck Proctor would say, "hatas gonna hate, but ya aint gonna stop me from doin mah thang!!" Or something like that....anyhow, let's get past my ghetto fabulous introduction and into today's topic of conversation: Temple U's female population.

Whenever I'm talking with Dave about what a given place has to offer lady-wise, he uses the word "talent". So I'm gonna take a page out of his playbook and say that this semester's TU crowd has some talent in it. I might even venture to say that from the early scouting reports we've done, there are some major leaguers. This is completely irrelevant to pretty much anyone who reads this blog, but I felt the need to post is.

Listen, I'm not expecting Philly's biggest University to be the winner of any hottest coed challenges. We aren't and will never be a USC or a Florida State. Still, I've heard many men complain about the lack of decent belles on campus, and wanted to give my view on the issue, if only for one semester of my thousand at T.U.

In other news, it's Friday and the first weekend of the long semester is upon us. It started with a bang last night going to Westy's and Lucy's. Westy's has this special called Wings & Yuengs, $5 for a bucket of wings, $5 for a pitcher of Lager. Fantastic! Add to that Pedro vs. Lincecum in a great pitchers duel and the Birds last preseason game and you got a recipe for a great night. Who knows what's going on the rest of the weekend. I do know that I'll enjoy it, whatever may happen.




EDITOR'S NOTE: The author of this blog is as far from shallow as a man can be. That said, a personality evaluation of this year's Temple ladies would necessitate the author coming out of his anti-social semester bubble. Not going to happen, so we're sticking with the present idea.

EDITOR'S NOTE 2: Tell me that the photo posted above isn't absolutely incredible. I dare you. I may have written this entire post for the sole purpose of putting this picture up, I'm not sure.

Staind Surprise

Sunday night, Breezy, Jake and I (along with 3 other people who don't read this blog) went to a concert at the Festival Pier. It was a beautiful night, a perfect setting to witness 3 of Dan Lacey's favorite bands: Chevelle, Shinedown and Staind. We all were there primarily for Shinedown, even though they weren't the closing act, so we had to decide whether to stay for Staind or bounce out of that joint early.

Shinedown came on and rocked out, despite a pretty short set. At around 9:30ish, it was time to choose. Do we stay or do we go now?

The group split. 2 left, 4 very hesitantly stayed. For the first half of their set, we were regretting our decision. The sound wasn't quite right and we weren't feeling the songs. But things started improving as songs we knew were getting played. They concluded the first set strong, and we thought to ourselves that leaving before the encore was pointless. Best decision we made.

While waiting for the encore some shouts were heard from behind us. At first I thought a fight had broken out, and people started pushing in the opposite direction of the stage. When we turned around, Aaron Lewis was sitting at the sound booth alone, accompanied only by his acoustic guitar. The mix-up literally turned the whole audience around while simultaneously giving the venues energy a 180. Love his voice/music or despise them, Aaron Lewis seems like a dude who hasn't let fame get to him.

He talked about how sometimes he didn't know what the heck to say on stage because he was just baffled at the fanbase he had. Then after playing "Outside" he gave what was the most memorable aspect of the show, at least to me.

He started prefacing the next song he played, and I'm going to paraphrase what he said (but I'll still put it in quotes for affect):

"Before the band, before anyone knew who I was, I used to just go around to local bars. Any place that would let me play, I'd bring in my acoustic and play. I mostly played covers, because that's what people want to hear at bars. Once in awhile, I would play this song I wrote, and people would use that time to talk with friends, get another beer at the bar, go to the bathroom and whatever else. It makes me laugh today thinking that this was the song..."

And he begins to play "It's Been Awhile", one of the bands hugest hits. I'm sure you read all this and I'm sure I didn't do it justice even one iota, but as a artist of sorts I thought this was an incredible moment in the show. Aaron was escorted back to the main stage after the acoustic sing-along, and they rocked out for the final song of the concert, as was the right move. The band won me and Breezy over completely, and we left the show more satisfied than we imagined we'd be after Shinedown finished their set. Bottom Line: Live music rocks, and if I even moderately enjoy one of an artist's tunes, then if they're good folk I can certainly enjoy a show they put on. Great times, and a great conclusion to Summer 09.

Eye Boo-Boo Syndrome

I woke up yesterday morning with blurred vision in my right eye. Naturally, all my classes yesterday were in big lecture halls so I had 3 periods of guessing what was typed on the projection screen. Fantastic start to (OFFICIALLY!!) my senior year. Well at least the classes themselves don't look too bad...er, sound too bad.

This morning I arose from my craptastic bed to find that the problem had not subsided. Off to the emergency room of the Eye Hospital, which, of course, was just as packed as any other E.R. Greeeat. I call out of work, as this seemed it had become an all-day process. After having my vision checked by 2 people, my eyes poked and prodded at, and 6,000 colors of light flashed at my opticals from every direction I was finally diagnosed:

"Welp, I definitely see what you're talking about. Don't get scared when I tell you what you have, it sounds a lot worse than it is."

Wonderful, I thought to myself. I clearly have glaucoma or cataracts or an inoperable eye tumor.

"You have posterior vitreous detachment."

Ok doc, you clearly have no idea what's going on with me and are looking to your imaginary medical word dictionary to find something that a dumb bloke (I guess "bloke" is officially in my pretend-that-I'm-British dictionary) like myself, would buy. I instantly had to bite my tongue from saying, "Is that the eye boo-boo disease? Or is that you're way of telling me you're a hack who's going to hope my problem goes away before my scheduled follow-up.

But alas, it is a real condition, and a nasty sounding one at that. PVD has officially screwed my vision till further notice, and that my friends, is how I'm getting this semester rolling...

Anyways, if you're tremendously concerned with my well-being haha, feel free to check the link below. One part says that it affects 75% of people over the age of 65. I just turned 24. I guess I really am aging quicker than I thought.


http://www.rnib.org.uk/xpedio/groups/public/documents/publicwebsite/public_rnib003660.hcsp