Times New Roman kills

There are a number of facts about fonts everyone should be aware of. Calibri often induces an uncontrollable desire to hug the printed word. The use of Arial has been linked with terminal unoriginality. And Times New Roman, well, Times New Roman has a tendency to drive readers to murder.

Who wouldn’t, after seeing those demonic curves, those mind-crushingly heavy lines, those rapier-sharp serifs? The “h,” “m,” and “n” seem to bind the free human spirit and cram it within a single letter. The absurd “g” with two constrictive loops handcuffs the eyes and chains them to the dense, heavy print upon the page. The alternating lines, one ridiculously thick and the next paper-thin, make for a blatantly dull, impenetrable block of text that seems to quash the soul beneath its heavy load. The letterforms of Times New Roman puncture the human consciousness, leaving gaping holes of revulsion and repugnance.

And then they are repeated. And repeated. And repeated. Repeated. Repeated. Times New Roman cannot be evaded. It permeates our world. Every student paper, every hastily contrived flyer, every amateur website employs this deadly font. Times New Roman follows us everywhere. There is no escape. It surrounds us, crushing our souls with its banal arcs and lines. We must end this torture. Humanity deserves better.

Please refrain from using the typeface Times New Roman.

A minor proposal (Yes, another English paper. But it actually has something to do with me this time.)

I wish I were a music major. Not only are they incredibly focused and dedicated, they get to take a number of amazing classes that are verboten to us mundane economics, philosophy, math, or engineering majors. I would enjoy taking classes such as music theory, music composition, or ethnomusicology, but I chose not to major in music, and these classes are reserved for music majors .

I had never seriously planned on majoring in music; my idea was to get a music minor in conjunction with a more profitable degree. But that plan burned to ashes in a spectacular pyrotechnic bonfire when I learned the requirements for ASU’s music minor. The requirements were absurd. Not only would I be required to learn the “Fundamentals of Music Notation” but I might have to study “Elvis Presley,” “Hip-Hop,” or “The Beatles.” And this intensive course of study would be added to such erudite courses as “Mac Literacy for Musicians” and “Concert Attendance.”

That’s sarcasm, by the way. The course of study prescribed by ASU’s music minor is ridiculously simple. It requires no performance, theory, or study of traditional art music. It is a conglomeration of throw-away music history courses that seems to be intended for lackadaisical liberal-arts students looking to pad their academic resumés.

It could be so much better. A music minor could be a music major in miniature—a taste of the incredible voyage that those brave souls who study music education, composition, or performance embark upon. ASU’s music minor could, in its 21 credits, be far more meaningful.

My proposed music minor would consist of one semester of music theory, three semesters of ensemble performance, two semesters of studio lessons, as well as two of class piano, a semester of ethnomusicology, and six elective credits to be used in the fields of history and theory. This would be a deeper, broader study of music than is currently offered, yet fit in the same number of credits as the current program.

I must confess, though, that this selection of classes is not entirely my own. All of these classes are required in the first two semesters of a BA in Music degree. A minor in music is much more meaningful when it draws from the same basis as the programs offered to music majors. This proposed minor could even help grow the music major programs by showing students the joys of the study of music. It certainly would benefit me; I’d be able to take the music classes I want without devoting my entire life to the pursuit of a music degree.

Of course, this program will probably never be implemented because it would require the music school to do the unthinkable: open music classes to non-majors.

Are any of you married yet?

My ASU 101 teacher asked that this week. To a class of freshmen. At ASU. The second biggest party school in the nation.

Apparently it had something to do with a stress quiz that we took. Getting married causes a lot of stress, after all. And some people had had incredibly high scores on the test. So maybe he assumed that they got married recently?

Hey, I found something else in my basement

(Sorry about the weird iridescent moire patterns—the scanner I used isn't very good and apparently it didn't align very well with the halftoning used on these ads.)

These were on the back of a couple of magazines from the 1950s that for some reason I have in my basement. (I'd tell you the whole story but it's long and convoluted... Fine. So for some reason, Bro. Hutzler found himself in possession of a large quantity of music related material dating from the 1930s to the 1950s. And for some reason he decided that he would give it to my mother. So he did. And this stack of old musty, disintegrating magazines was in a box with a huge Marlboro logo on it. I decided not to ask questions. Anyway, I was bored one day and I looked through it and found these ads. Not only did I find them, I found them hilarious.)

Bob Jones University is the Evangelical equivalent of BYU. (Their initials are even almost the same.) It has even more of a reputation for nerdy religionism than BYU does, apparently for good reason. Can you imagine BYU running an ad like this?

So if I study at Bob Jones University, I'll be sent to fiery purgatory? Or maybe I'll get heartburn? Not really a stunning endorsement of BJU. Then again, maybe they're just trying to warn potential students of the average temperature in South Carolina. It almost makes me want to go to BJU, just so I can shout "My heart is aflame!"

And modernism is sin. I wonder what this ad's copywriters think about post-modernism... And in order to be righteous, apparently you must be "aggressively" taught the gospel. I can only be faithful if I have gospel truths pounded into my head on a daily basis?

BUT IS KEEPING THE FAITH ENOUGH?

I hate public transportation

I'm on the bus. It is 3:42 PM. I left ASU at 2:35. I'm still five miles away from my bus stop, where I get off and drive five more miles home. I hate public transportation.

For about half an hour a rather giddy woman sat next to me. She kept trying to start conversations. "I need a pedicure. [to the teenage boy across from her] Do you want a manicure? Get it? MAN-icure?" No one took her up on her offer of such a reasoned, erudite dialogue, but this didn't stop her. She continued to talk as if she were holding a great conversation. Occasionally she mentioned how much fun riding the bus was—how many people you meet and friends you make. Occasionally she coaxed a word or two out of someone with an energetic "Right?" I couldn't decide whether she was drunk or just slightly crazy. Did I mention that I hate public transportation?

On Thursday, I had an engagement to take the Collegiate Learning Assessment at 5:30 PM at ASU. I drove to school, hoping to avoid the huge waits associated with riding the bus home at that time of night. But since I don't have a parking permit at ASU, I parked at Michael's apartment, which is less than a mile away from campus. The test was inane, and I finished in 20 minutes. I walked over to the Orbit bus stop and waited for the Jupiter forward bus. Supposedly, they come every 15 minutes. And I waited. Well, there went the Mercury bus. And I waited. I walked over to the other bus stop, wondering if I had missed something. And I waited. Another Mercury bus went by. And I waited. Finally the Jupiter bus barreled past the stop, flashing a rude "DISCHARGE ONLY" from its electric sign. And I waited. I finally got to Michael's apartment at about 7:30. Did I mention that I hate public transportation?

It's now 3:57, and I'm still two miles away. Did I mention that I hate public transportation?

The implausibility of doing one's best (another English paper)

This paper is not the best I could write. I don’t believe I have ever done my best at anything, nor do I believe that anyone else ever has.
After all, what does it mean to do my best at an action? If I am truly doing my best, there is no change that I could make that could improve the outcome of the action. But in any action, there is always room for improvement. I could have spent an extra hour writing this paper. Or an extra two hours. Or even longer. If I truly wanted to do my best on this paper, I would have dedicated my life to it from the time I learned of the assignment until five minutes before class. This is not a very likely or desirable situation.
This complaint is, in theory, easily resolved, merely requiring a few qualifying words: “to do my best under the circumstances.” But this merely substitutes the implausible with the unknowable. If I were to state this, I would be claiming to be able to solve an incredibly complex optimization problem involving dozens of variables over large ranges. I would have to account for such disparate inputs as amount of sleep, time spent choosing ideas, time spent writing, caloric intake, emotional state, and many others. Even if I had a miraculously omniscient function giving me the quality of my work given each of these inputs, finding the maximum thereof would be incredibly difficult.
Then there is the difficulty of defining the “circumstances.” What set of constraints should I place on my productivity? Should I allocate a set amount of time? Should I take my emotional state as a given? Should I assume that I had to go to that party Friday night? Should I consider myself responsible for mistakes I made years ago that hindered my intellectual development? Not only are the constrained maxima unknowable, so are the constraints themselves.
If I were to believe that I had done my best on this paper, I would be engaging in self-deception. There is no justification for stating that I have done my best. All I can say is that it should be good enough.

In defense of God's morality

I wrote this for my English class; another person in the class had written a paper arguing that God was immoral, and while on the way comparing the relationship between God and man to that of a father and child. He implied that he now had the moral standing to judge God, which is what prompted this particular argument against that paper.

My six-year-old brother Jarett loves to play games on the computer. Before doing so, he is required to obtain permission from my mother. Of course, he frequently flouts this requirement and plays whenever he can. When caught, he protests with a complaint like “That’s not fair!” or “You are wrong, mister!” To an adult, this situation is fair, and my mother is not in the wrong, but explaining these facts to Jarett is fruitless. He simply does not (and cannot, until he is older and more mature) fully understand the morality of the situation. He does not know everything that my mother knows and thus is not in a position to judge her actions. He does not realize that not only does the computer not belong to him, but his parents have the right to limit his access thereof for his own benefit.

So it is with humanity’s relationship to God. We are His children, with emphasis on the childlike aspect. We have not yet developed the spiritual strength and maturity to understand God’s adherence to a strict moral code, just as my younger brother has not yet developed the mental faculties and maturity to understand why he is not allowed to use the computer. Nor do we even have access to all the information God has. Even if we did, we would be unable to comprehend it all.

Those who rail against God’s perceived moral flaws suffer from a vital misconception—since they are physically adults, they must have the moral and spiritual right to judge God. But we are all still children in God’s eyes. None of us has developed the perception or acumen that He possesses, and none of us has His boundless knowledge. We cannot presume to judge God on our limited knowledge and weak conception of eternal morality. To do so is equivalent to Jarett’s announcing to my mother that she has “a million hundred thousand forty-seven minutes [of time out].”

Addiction and procrastination

So a long time ago, I was thinking about procrastination. And I came up with some interesting ideas about it, ideas that I wanted to blog about. So I put the title of this post down, and ignored it for three months. (Of course I have problems with procrastination. Why else would I be thinking about it?

In any event, I was reading a P.J. O'Rourke book which contains a description of cocaine addiction. He gives an interesting depiction of an addict drinking coffee in very self-destructive ways, clearly aware of what it is doing to him, yet simply not caring. I would quote it for you, but I don't have the book any more. Just take my word it was very funny.

And very poignant. When I procrastinate, I sit in front of my computer browsing the internet, searching for some sort of distraction so I don't have to do work, knowing full well the sort of damage this is doing to my future. I know that I will have to do the work at some point, but I don't care. At times I've even thought as far as "This is really hurting the future me. Is this website really worth it?" but somehow my thought process stops there.

Procrastination is an addiction.