Hunger Drives the Descent of Man

I'm so hungry. Like, so damn hungry. Oh my god, how can hunger like this exist? Ow. Ow. Make it stop! I can feel my stomach digesting its own lining. Oh my god I'm so hungry. I'm so hungry...so...hungry...


It was after my Italian class, and I was waiting at the bus stop for an East Campus Express. Sometimes, if all the stars and planets in the Universe align as I see a shooting star fly over a double rainbow that leads to a pot full of golden pennies that have landed heads-up, the East Campus Express will show up on time and get me to ECV early enough to run in and grab something to eat before horn seminar. But, sadly, today was not one of those days.

Instead, I was stuck pacing and occasionally looking down the street with big hopeful eyes. As the minutes dragged on, my gaze became less hopeful and more downcast and pitiful, and I slowly came to terms with the fact that I would not make it to ECV in time to eat.

As illustrated.

My dreams of getting food were vanishing before my own eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. If I didn't get food before seminar, I would have to go an extra four hours without eating due to very poor class scheduling. I might have been three-quarters self-digested by that point.

Finally, I was able to get on the bus and head to seminar. As we arrived at ECV, I could smell the strange mix of breakfast and lunch emitting from the dining hall. My stomach leaped forward, trying to steer me in to the building. While my stomach was begging to be filled with anything- anything at all- my rational side remained in tact, and I convinced myself to get to class; I was already late enough as it was.

Walking up the fifty-two stairs to the school of music, I could feel myself becoming more and more primal. "Food.." I was thinking, "Foooooooood...foood.." I was slowly reverting back to my basic instincts, becoming an animal. All I could concentrate on was food. I concentrated on it so hard that the word lost all meaning and became merely an abstract. It was something I knew I needed, and images of food rotated around my mind like they were on a carousel, but the actual word itself seemed to morph into a pained groan. "Foooood.." I was thinking as I walked up to the Choir Suite for seminar. I had forgotten why I was even heading this way, but maybe there was food in here. I was drooling a little as I opened the door and peeked in.

A wave of shock washed over me as I was met with the gaze of fifteen horn players all at once. The light bounced off their horns directly into my eyes, and their stares were just as piercing. It was so bright it hurt. I was jolted back into reality enough to realize that I had forgotten to get my horn, but not quite enough to remember that I was a human. I quickly retreated, hissing at them as the door closed.

As illustrated.

Retrieving my horn took several minutes, as I thought that there might be something to eat laying about in my locker. Maybe some unlucky flies had gotten stuck, or maybe a centipede had used my locker as a tomb. I found nothing that I could ingest, not even dust, and so I trudged back up to the Choir Suite to face the humans once again.

As I slinked up the stairs and rounded a corner, I suddenly found myself face to face with a girl.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Please excuse me," she offered.
"SCREEEEE" came my response. It echoed through the stairwell, seeming only to intensify with each reverberation. My eyes were wide and wild, my teeth bared. Had she not run away so quickly, I might have taken a bite out of her. Instead, I settled with more hissing and some spittle flew out of my mouth. I arched my back and paced for a few seconds, making sure she would not invade my territory again.*

The next moments were a blur of confusion, but when I became fully aware again I was among the horn-studio people. They were all staring at me; they must have noticed a difference in my behavior. I could tell that they thought something was slightly odd about me today. Was it that all my hairs were standing on end? Maybe it was because I had gone so long without blinking. It might have been because all the blood had drained from my skin and I was now as pale as snow. Could it be the veins throbbing in my neck and forehead? Whatever it was, I knew I had to hide it and act normal.

Be cool. Use real words when they address you. You know, like use your tongue and syllables and stuff when you talk. Less emphasis on your S's so it sounds less like a hiss. 


"So, Billy," the human in charge was directing attention towards me, "Welcome to seminar. Better late than never, huh?"
"Haheuhyea," I mumbled, not looking her in the eye. I couldn't decide which response of "haha," "uh," and "yeah" would be considered normal, so apparently I had combined all three without thinking.

There was a slight pause. I continued walking to my spot. Left foot in front. Now right foot in front. Good. No, don't let your arms creep up like you're a T-Rex. Keep them down. Stop arching your back! Keep it straight! You can do this..


"So did you get any nuggets to remember from this morning's master class?" she asked, slyly. But I didn't hear the end of the question. My mind was still hung up on "Nuggets." So, did you get any nuggets? Is she mocking me? I need food. Fooood. No I didn't get any nuggets!


Taken aback, I turned around very swiftly. Reflecting upon this move now, I realize that it must have looked behind me like I was in a hair product commercial. If I had long hair, it would have been the best hair toss. But I continued to look at her, about to answer, "NO! I DIDN'T." Something stopped me, though. It might have been the look on her face as she returned my intense shampoo model stare or the way the entire room had gone silent for what felt like the next five decades. Nothing moved for so long, and in that time I realized that I had not considered the whole question. Quick, think of a generic and normal human answer! Hurry! Talk about how they played. I'm sure they must have played this morning...


"Uh, I really just can remembered the way great that they can play. And their tones so effortless and easily. I would like want to copy their soundsss."

Perfect. Great execution.


"Oh. Well alright," came her response, delayed by a couple seconds as she tried to decode what had just come out of my mouth.

Everything was eerily quiet as a sulked to my stand. As we were playing, I kept seeing blackness cloud my vision. Eventually it swallowed me whole, and I awoke several hours later.

I have no idea what happened during that time, but I'm no longer hungry and there are weird stains on my carpet now. I can just ask my roommate when he gets back I guess. I'll also ask him why he left his shoes and shirt in the room and why they're covered in what looks like blood. They were already dark colored, so it's kind of hard to tell what exactly drenched them. But it's not like him to leave the room without his shoes/shirt on. He also seems to have been collecting bones or something in the corner of the room. If you ask me, he's been acting kind of weird today...









*As a side note, for me, this is actually a typical encounter with a girl. My starvation cannot be completely to blame in this event.

Co-oped Vocab Story (from high school)

I found this vocab story that we wrote many moons ago and thought I'd share. From what I can tell, the vocab words were: Unwonted, Utopian, Cavorting, Distraught, Credence, Evinced, Viscous, Verdant, Decry, Primordial, and Cavorting..again. Although, I probably don't need to point them out because they stick out pretty awfully since nobody actually uses SAT Words of the Day in real life.

Once upon a time, Antonio woke up unwontedly from a utopian dream. In it he was cavorting about fields of tulips and bunnies. Distraught from waking up from a perfect dream, he began to give credence to his wise mother’s words, “Son, always, always follow your dreams.” He evinced his obedience to his mother and set out to follow his latest dream.

Unfortunately for him, he was an awkward boy who never bathed. This resulted in a viscous layer of filth over him, making his hair a verdant tint. Everyone decried his dreams and that made it hard for him to start the primordial steps of living out his fantasy. Discouraged, he began to weep for help. His fairy godmother appeared in a flash and offered him some helpful hints. “Try growing your own tulips and bunnies from scratch by yourself!” she offered. (Fairy godmothers don’t know much about bunnies.) With new found confidence, Antonio set out again, determined to live out his goal. He smuggled his tulip seeds from the old lady neighbor, named Donna Shannon, and took bunnies from little kids. He dumped them all in a big pen and, with great enthusiasm, he started cavorting through it. It wasn’t like his dream at all, because in dreams, you don’t squish the bunnies when you prance on them. When he was finally satisfied after four hours, he looked, still giggling. When he saw the mess of thousands of trampled bunnies and tulips, he went into shock. He later died of heart problems. Doctors say it was cardiac arrest from the shock, but we know it was really just a broken heart. Dave Chappelle hosted Antonio’s funeral, and he was buried in a casket made of poptarts.

The End

Raise Indirect Bullying Awareness

There is a crisis emerging in the United States. Without warning, your kid could be susceptible to it- whether they are young or old, fat or skinny, short or tall. They are still at risk no matter if they are cool or geeky.  They are in danger even if they're at school.

Especially at school.

Despite what the picture above may imply, the crisis is not kids being run over by reckless bus drivers. While that should also important to you parents out there, the real danger is the fact that your kids are being bullied every day, no matter who they are. Each day, they go into class worrying about what their peers will think of them. They worry about if their clothes are 'cool' enough or if (unless they're middle-schoolers) they smell decently enough. They are worried they might be acting too smart, but at the same time are afraid of acting too dumb. They are constantly trying to maintain some tedious medium of what is considered "normal." Kids just want to be accepted by other kids no matter what it takes.

I can already hear what you old people are saying to yourselves right now: "Well, duh..I was a kid too once! Don't talk to me about bullying like I don't know. Bullying is just what kids do; even I was bullied!" But let me explain.

The problem here isn't that you were bullied. I completely agree that it's what kids do. The problem is that you were bullied and were bitter about it. Everything in your life became an effort in trying to 'show those bullies that they were wrong.' This view slowly became your mentality and persisted even after you got away from the childish bullying of your school days. You were so bitter, and then you decided to raise children.

Now, I'm not here to judge your irresponsible behavior, but can someone explain to me how this would ever be a good idea?

What happened, then, was that you had children- young children with soft, malleable minds that had yet to form any lasting impressions-  and you bombarded them with your subtle anti-bullying ideals. You had a responsibility in guiding a human life, in molding a fresh human mind, and in teaching them right from wrong. And you messed it up.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's important to teach your kids that bullying is wrong. But the way you did it didn't make the kids decide that bullying was any worse or socially unacceptable than previous generations. You did it in such a way that just made them even more determined not to be caught bullying. In your desperate attempt to raise a generation of peaceful, accepting children you instead raised a generation of sneaky, devious bullies. And these bullies have introduced a new way to exclude, pick on, and generally torment your child.

Just kidding. You haven't messed them up that badly.

What the bullies do now is indirectly abuse your child. Instead of openly picking on your kid, the bullies are beginning to take a more passive, yet still effective, way to build themselves up while tearing others down. They have started to form their own little bully-packs, roaming around the playground and looking to leech self-esteem from your child specifically. In their packs, they wander around, talking openly about predetermined "cool" things. Once their collective views are stated, they begin to discount the views that seem to oppose.

 It's really very smart; they say things like "Oh yeah, John Mayer is such a good singer. All the cool people I know think so, too." And then the whole group agrees while pretty much saying the same exact thing. But they only do this around kids that are by themselves. Because to kids, if you're in a group, you're cool. If you're by yourself, you must not be cool. The bullies know this and always seem to know just what the lonesome kids don't like, so they can parade about proclaiming how awesome it is. And they can't get caught. They're not technically putting anyone down, just building up people who agree while leaving those who don't behind. It's a compliment given to everyone except the target. And it sucks. I know because I've been a recent victim of this type of bullying.

I was walking by myself (the first problem) out of Wind Symphony (actually this is the first and biggest problem. Seriously, fuck Wind Symphony). All of a sudden there was a group of fellow Wind Symphony members behind me, talking to each other fairly loudly. Interested, I listened in.

Guy #1: "Hey, do you guys call it a book bag or a backpack?"
Girl: "Um..a backpack. Duh."
Guy #2: "Yeah, is that even a question? Back pack all day every day."
Guy #1: "Ok good. THAT'S a relief. I was afraid that you guys might have called it a book bag."
[The whole group erupts with laughter. It feels like they've all got their mouths pointed straight towards me, forcing me to hear their laughs.]
Me (thinking): Man..I call it a book bag..I didn't know that was wrong..
Guy #2: "I mean, I don't know of anyone that calls it a book bag any more. I probably stopped talking to all those people in Pre-K."
[More laughter]
Girl: "Yeah, like every time I hear someone call it a backpack, I instantly have a lot of respect for them. I really do."
Guy #1: "I know what you mean. Whenever I hear someone call it a book bag, it just sounds like they're saying it while sucking on their thumb."
Guy #2: "I'm so glad none of us call it a book bag. Let's be friends forever because of that."
Guy #1: "I like that. This is just such an important thing that humans need to bond over."
Girl: "I'll drink to that!"
Guy #1: "A toast, then! Not just to us, but to everyone in the world that calls it a backpack! May we live long and stay strong, cause we're never wrong!"
All three: "Cheers!"
[The clinking of wine glasses echoes through the air.]
Me (thinking): This sucks..Where the hell did they even get wine glasses?

Answer: Out of their backpacks.

So there you have it. This indirect bullying is the latest addition to the ever-growing list of things that threaten your child. Do your part in raising awareness: Start a campaign, put up fliers and posters, talk to your kid, talk to the teachers, or even just pass this blog post around to everyone you know (I am shameless).



Also, if you ever meet anyone that calls their purse a handbag, run away quickly. Because if book bags are for carrying books around, what do you think handbags are for?