Plead the 4th

There's New Year's, which has turned into a night of drinking and partying to start off the year. There's Halloween, which has turned into a night of sweet-tooth indulging. There's Thanksgiving, which has turned into a fiesta for the fat. There's Christmas, which has turned into a yearly fix for America's spending addiction. However, of all the self-serving holidays a country can have, I think the 4th of July is the worst, not only in terms of how we've twisted the day (we tend to do that) but, more perversely, what birthdays are in general. And I'm not saying this because I didn't get invited to any parties today.

Now, most of you who know me well understand that I have a general distaste for birthdays. I don't mean that I like bashing on birthday bashes or being a killjoy or anything like that. If anything, I love celebrating friends' birthdays as an appreciation of having them as a friend. I do not subscribe to the idea, however, that birthdays are someone's "special day" so that they can get whatever they want, that they are somehow "entitled" to special privileges not normally given to them on any other day.

No, birthdays are a day to celebrate your presence on Earth, not your command of it. It's self-serving even to assume that somehow your birthday is any better than any other day, because everyday is someone's birthday. I don't mind giving you a gift, but I hate people who say shit like, "But it's my birthday," or "C'mon, not even on my birthday?" because it just shows their immaturity and their obsession with themselves.

A wise comedian once said, "There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11."

And thus, that leads me to the the 4th of July, which is the birthday of our obviously fine, fine country.

Don't get me wrong, I love birthdays as fine reminders of our lives and the beauty if life in general, and I definitely love our country, the wealthiest and arguably most driven in the world (both in terms of motivation and number of cars per capita). But I think all this celebrating, these parties, fireworks, sales, advertising and all this crap is just so excessive. We don't need to waste literally millions and millions of dollars on a day about ourselves. That's just self-serving and interestingly, very stereotypically American.

And I don't think a country this great should be about that. I don't have any alternative ideas for celebrating, but using our birthday as a ticket to the shitshow, as an excuse to get drunk and vomit all over our birthday selves is just pure narcissism and vainglory.

In addition, I hate fireworks. They are literally exploding goddamn lights in the goddamn sky. I have glow-in-the-dark stickers on my ceiling, and they light up at night. Is there anything fucking special about that?

AND THEY'RE THE SAME THING EVERY GODDAMN YEAR! It's just lights of different colors and shapes in the sky! WTF?! Is it so novel, so amazing that you have to clog up highways and crowd random areas to watch it? We spend more time looking and finding places to sit than actually seeing the damn show itself.

It's just frustrating to see so much fuss made over something so trivial on a day where we are supposed to be celebrating our country's birth. Instead we strategically place lines in our speeches thanking "for our freedoms" and "for the men and women fighting overseas." Do you know what the American troops are doing today? They're freaking marching in Afghanistan in the fucking desert while we get drunk and throw our pool parties.

The 4th of July is easily the worst of the holidays, in my opinion. Not that the other ones are much better in their perversity. "There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age 11." We should have stopped with the celebrating in 17goddamn87.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LONG! (Yes, it is a story...)

It had to be a dream, he thought.

This couldn't be real. The sun was too perfectly warm, the beach too nice. The waves were just the right temperature. This was too close to heavenly.

So he closed his eyes tightly, expecting to be greeted by his ceiling and the comforts of his room when he opened them again. Yet, he was still at the beach, within the setting of a perfect evening.

Shrugging, he started walking along the lines of the tides, meditatively and contemplatively. He just walked quietly, the sounds of the waves his comforting companion.

Then, as he turned around, he realized he was being followed. He stopped and saw all his friends. They were following him but all stopped as he stopped. They were standing separately, too, silently. He tried to walk back to reach them, but it felt like he was running in place, never to hug or embrace his friends. He was sad, because he thought he was alone, even when his friends were there.

So he kept on walking, and they kept on following him.

After a few miles of walking, he came across a boat that was tied to the beach. An old man was sitting by a booth and greeted him.

"Hello there, friend!" the old man said. "You're supposed to take this boat!"

He was confused. Where was he? he asked the old man, and where did the boat go?

"Well," the old man started to reply. "This boat leads to heaven, and you're supposed to go." The old man smiled convincingly.

This was perfect! He's going to heaven! He felt a surge of relief when he realized his life's work had led him here. Before he got aboard, however, he saw his friends. Were they coming too?

"I'm sorry," the old man said. "You have to leave your friends here. They really aren't invited."

This didn't make sense. His friends definitely belonged in heaven too! He couldn't imagine going anywhere without knowing his friends were within contact.

Then he stopped and discerned. He had to decide. Stay back with his friends or not go to heaven?

The old man didn't seem to care too much when informed of his decision.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," the old man said as the boat left.

He was sad, but at least he was in the company of his friends, at least he knew he had friends. No matter how silent they were, he knew they were his friends.

So he kept on walking, his friends following behind him in a strangely loyal way.

Before he knew it, he came across an old hut where another old man lived.

"Hey, there," the old man greeted. "Welcome to heaven."

He was confused again. Didn't the boat just leave for heaven?

"Oh no," the new old man laughed. "That was Satan trying to tempt you into hell."

Why didn't someone stop him? It's not fair to innocent people walking by to be tricked.

"Well," the old man replied. "We don't mind too much. We want to see who would choose their friends over themselves. That way, we can weed out the selfish people. People who make it here are the ones who really belong in heaven."

And with that, all his friends ran up to him, hugging him and laughing and celebrating.

And Long knew, like he always did, that heaven wasn't where someone else told you to be, heaven was where you choose to be with God. And where better can you find God than in your friends?

"Where two or three have come together in my name, I am there among them." - Matthew 18:20

Happy birthday, Long! God's there with you always =)

Birthday Blog

I guess now is as good a time to blog as any other. I've been watching movies again lately. For some reason, I've been gravitating toward animated films. I recently saw the Hayao Miyazaki classics, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind (1984) and Castle in the Sky(1986). I also watched The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (2006) and Bolt (2008). They were all good. I particularly enjoyed Nausicaa and The Girl Who Leapt Through Time for some reason. I didn't think the others were as good, but were still enjoyable. I might do reviews later. Anyways,

I'll start with last week. My father came to visit me in Stockton last Thursday. I had just woken up to his abrupt phone call.

"Andrew, I'm here."
Groggily, I replied, "K. Dad. Lemme get ready." Click.

I gathered my books and whatnot and joined him in the passenger seat of his pedophile/kidnapper white Nissan Quest van. My brother and I had merrily placed a "Mystery Spot" bumper sticker years ago on the back bumper so as to avoid the inevitable stares of passers-by who might find the van shady. Needless to say, the yellow sticker only made the van creepier.

But the creepiness wasn't new to me, as I walked down the stairs of my residence hall into the passenger seat of my dad's van. At this point, I was so tired that I delayed putting on the seatbelt. I just sat there lazily, body as exhausted as I usually feel when woken prematurely.

We got onto the street without any trouble, my seatbelt still unbuckled, and, talking sparsely as only father and son could, we continued driving. We came up to a stop sign and saw a police car parked, seemingly looking for stop sign-violators. My dad commented uneventfully, "Doesn't it seem like the police are everywhere?"

Before I could come up with a cynical I'm-tired-dad retort, I heard the saddening siren of a police car. I put on my seatbelt. I knew what was coming. We pulled over.

"I pulled you over," the police said callously, "because he wasn't wearing a seatbelt." He pointed to me.

"It's National Click-it-orTicket Week, so we are told to look out especially for seatbelt violations. How old are you, son?" the law enforcer asked.
"Eighteen," was my weak, and notably only possible, reply.
"I'll be right back."

I swear the whole time my dad was smiling as if he wanted to seduce the policeman out of a ticket. I myself am guilty of trying to laugh off the ticket. He came back.

"Sorry, officer," I said. "I'm still in college. You know how irresponsible I can be."
He laughed. "That is true. Let me see your license." I gave it to him.

I thought it was money in the bank at this point. Surely, he saw I was charming and couldn't possibly give me a ticket now. Still, a few more jokes wouldn't hurt.

"What's your address, Andrew?"
"My home address or my school address? Well, I can't really call it home since my parents kicked me out a long time ago. You can see why," I said, pointing to the seat belt.
He laughed really hard this time.
"Yep, those things are mighty inconvenient. I'll just use the address on your license."


And then I got a ticket.