14 weeks till parole, I mean graduation

This has been a tough few months. Those of you who read my posts and/or follow me, or maybe the collective 'you' in you're are really just a bunch of bots (yay for alliteration!), who knows, ahhh I digress, you know I'm rather sensitive for an INTJ. Actually, I'm just better at expressing my feelings through written word. I figured that out when someone was talking to me about an opportunity and I said "I'm really excited, I would love to do that," and I could feel my face and it didn't exactly feel as if it was giving off the "I'm really excited, I would love to do that"face. At least I acknowledge my shortcomings. I keep dreaming about a certain someone, maybe once a week, and I'm not the type of person to talk myself into hating someone I couldn't exactly stay mad at, let alone get mad at, so it's making it very difficult to 'move on,' more specifically, I haven't met anyone recently where there's a spark…I need the damn spark! What's not helping either is the sample pool of potential dating specimens. I've met some quirky guys, nothing wrong with quirky, I'm quirky, but I've also encountered some not so nice ones too. It comes with the territory, but it's kind of hard for me to wrap my mind around the fact that I 'met' (only messaged online) a guy that told me I don't eat enough (who the hell do you think you are?!), I shouldn't and don't need to work out (again, really who the hell do you think you are?!), and in order for us to have a relationship (again, I never met him!), I'd need to compromise with him (isn't this like a we've been dating for six months talk??) and allow him to cook for me (maybe this could work…), but his cooking would have to be his way because he refuses to cook "healthy hipster Whole Foods crap" (ehhh, I don't think it's gonna work...) and I would need to gain a few pounds (nope. Definitely not gonna work…). I've very picky, I've come to terms with this too. I'm not asking guys out for coffee either anymore. Sometimes I think I'm the one with balls, but I just can't find them…Besides looking for someone I'd actually be willing and wanting to spend time with, I'm working on my last semester. Hopefully I'll graduate with my remaining hair and the migraines and anxiety will magically go poof. Until then, I'll cry just a little each time I find a strand of hair not on my head. One day, my hair will be as magnificent as it was in Kindergarten.

Photography Portfolio

My photography portfolio is finally done! I've put many hours into this and I've gotten some great feedback so far. All the images are mine; I took them all. I'm kind of proud because I think it looks great!

If you'd like to see it for yourself, click here or visit acohen32.wix.com/photography

Postmortem photography research

Dear reader--

We meet again...

I was thinking the other day about how I blog, this is my blog, yet I don't really read other peoples blogs. So why do you read this? Do you find what I say interesting? Or are you bored and you've just now come across this delightful Internet campground full of rants, random essays, poetry here and there, and every now and then, a cute photograph of my pet(s)?

Anyways, this is usually where I inquire to whether or not you'd like to know what I've been up to. Interested? If you are, keep reading--if not, skip to the next blog because this is a focused post (not allowing myself to ramble on, oops, I'm on a tangent)--so I've previously mentioned I've been writing a research paper on postmortem photography: art versus reality. I did a very very very small study in-class on the response towards postmortem images (Image 1 was a Victorian postmortem image, Image 2 was Margaret Bourke-White's photograph of a South Korean holding the severed head of the North Korean (1952), Image 3 was Ambulance Disaster from Andy Warhol's 1963 Death and Disaster series). The results were, lets just say, astounding. My plan was to categorize the responses as emotional or intellectual, but I needed a consistent method to measure each response. So I thought, and I played around with how to decipher the responses, and I thought some more and then the light bulb…I analyzed each response based on whether or not the response consisted of nouns and adjectives! Nouns are concrete: people, places, things. Adjectives are descriptors. Ergo, nouns correlate to intellectual responses and adjectives correspond to emotional responses.

My preliminary research, in which four of my Google+ followers were kind enough to participate, showed that there were two types of responses according to my method; a mixed response (the response had attributes of both an emotional response and an intellectual response) and a purely intellectual response. The results from the in-class study show that these two response types exist. To cut to the point, not one respondent in either study responded to either the concept of postmortem photography or the visual stimuli purely emotionally. My hypothesis was that people respond toward reality-based and artistic postmortem images differently and in fact, this is true. In Study 2 (in-class study), every respondent viewed Image 3 (Warhol's work) completely intellectually. My reasoning for this is because art is representational, the death in the artistic image is representational--this causes a detachment between the viewer and the piece and the response reflects this detachment. My reasoning for my people only have an emotional response in conjunction with that of an intellectual is precisely because the subject matter makes people uncomfortable (it could potentially be too upsetting to allow oneself to respond fully emotionally). This could be related to subconscious versus conscious and the filter…anyhow, that's a separate topic of study.

Fascinating huh? I think so.

The best title I could come up with

I haven't blogged in a while. I know.

School has been overwhelming. One class in particular, a 'nonlinear documents' class, a.k.a photography course, has proven to be tremendously time consuming. I've been working on a research paper on 'postmortem photography in relation to art and reality' for photography class, as well as two other research papers for a film course (Editing of Fritz Lang's M versus Classical Continuity Style Editing and Soviet Editing) and a reception history of Bruce Chatwin's novella, The Viceroy of Ouidah, which hasn't actually been started...yet. In between reading research and writing research papers, I've been working on an idea for erotic fiction. I only have about 2000 words, so it's only an idea at this point. I haven't worked on writing poetry lately (sad face). I've also been going through one of those in-between phases. I guess the best way to describe it would be the scene from Sideways where Miles (played by Paul Giamatti) refuses to drink merlot because he'll go to the 'dark side' or if you prefer Cold Souls, the scene where he says "My soul is a chickpea?!"

Well I guess I've been there for a few weeks now; my motivation (to start anything) is at a very low negative one, that's right, it's beyond zero. I can't sleep and when I do, I wake up every few hours (e.g. I woke up last night at 10:46pm, then 1:30am, 4:54am, 6:30am, 6:57am). All I want to do is bake, watch movies, read, write and sleep. Some day's I worry about my future, the next, I'm pretty much like 'fuck it.' I don't want to be a consultant or travel (unless it's to actually travel to see the world, travel and work is a big fat lie). Any-ways... and then there's the bit about the guy. I watched Benjamin Button and started crying because Benjamin goes away and disappears...it's a reminder of a loss of friendship (or was it not?? Friends don't just disappear when things aren't all smiley faces and warm, fuzzy kittens so in that case, we had nothing but an illusion of a friendship, my fault for misunderstanding), what if's, wants, all that crap you know what I'm talking about. I go from angry to sad to sadder and then saddest of all. I don't open up to people often, it takes years, and I took a risk and I did and it just hurts. But I'm working on letting go, moving on and jotting down whatever comes to mind, in case I get a poem or two out of all of this. It may be surprising (probably not) but I'm good at expressing myself through text, hence the poetry, but I don't share my emotions so well verbally. I come off cold, insensitive and unfeeling if I feel things such as disappointment, sadness, emotional pain, anger, etc. Apart from feeling crushed and slightly heartbroken, I'm still functioning at a relatively high level.

I think I've rambled on about nonsensical things enough now that it would be the right thing to do to let you go back to being productive members on the Internet. Live Long and Prosper.

How much is my education worth?

The new semester and recent articles in newspaper publications have me thinking about the cost of a four year college education and the true value of it. Some people would say that I am lucky to receive the HOPE scholarship – a scholarship based on merit, not financial need. But I worked for the scholarship. I was an A/B student, mostly A’s, in high school, and I maintained my high performance in college from the beginning. I have a 3.80 GPA and “am lucky enough” to have 100% of Georgia Tech tuition paid for. In-state tuition, the amount HOPE pays for, is under five thousand dollars a semester.

A roommate from last semester is an out-of-state student. Her parents, as she said it, shell out forty grand a year for her to attend Georgia Tech. I knew the tuition for out-of-state students was high, but I hadn’t thought of myself, or my parents, paying that much for my education, especially for an undergraduate degree. I was wondering if my roommate thought that she was receiving forty thousand dollars worth of education. But then again, how can you measure the worth of an education. It can’t be based on where undergrads go to graduate school or how much money they make at their first job because these are not guarantees. Georgia Tech cannot guarantee me admittance to Columbia or NYU, nor a job.

It really infuriates me that ‘the rising cost of tuition’ can be attributed, partly, to colleges and universities ‘hiring more administrative staff’. First of all, some of the administrative staff is useless; fewer employees are needed to actually to get the job done. Secondly, if I have a question, I receive an automated response or a response by a student employee. 

I honestly cannot say whether I have or currently am receiving a forty thousand dollar a year education. I find it difficult to give my education a price tag. I don’t know what the true monetary value of the quality of my, or for anyone else’s for that matter, education is. Realtors ask, “How much is this property worth?” Well, the answer is “what someone is willing to pay for it.” If colleges had open seats, and had a pool of applicants that were ‘pre-approved’ and then would be allowed to bid on how much they would pay for that spot, then, and only then would we know how much an education would be worth.

I am in my junior year of college and so, naturally, I am preparing for the future. This means deciding on what to do for graduate school, because let’s be honest, you can’t afford to not make money and I don't want to struggle to live how I want. I’ve come to the decision that law school is what is at the top of my short, short list – that is if I can get into one of the top ten law schools in the US (and I greatly prefer Columbia University or NYU and I do not want to go to a school in California so Stanford is out of the running). If I can’t get into one of the best, I am not sure it would be in my best interest, or in the interest of my parent’s bank account, to go to a lesser school for a J.D. It’s too bad that apprenticeships in the field of law just don’t happen too much anymore (will firms want you if you do an apprenticeship?) because we all hear that it’s experience that facilitates learning. I like the idea that I would take the LSAT’s, apply to law school and then, I would go shopping around for a sponsor, a law firm, that would pay a percentage of my law school tuition (some or all of it) guaranteed if I commit to working for them when I graduate for a period of time. This way I would be guaranteed the funds to make it through law school with little to no debt, and a job (that's unheard of...just kidding)! Anyone out there want to be my sponsor? Yes? 

Friday the ... 19th

So yesterday I fell out of a bus (read post from yesterday) and I felt fine. Today is another story. First of all, my ankle hurts really badly. I have a bruise on one arm the size of a golf ball. My wrist hurts and the right side of my right leg hurts too. And for some reason, the left side of my face hurts (I didn't think my face was involved in this mess).

I don't feel great either. I think I'm getting ill. I have nausea, headache, lightheadedness and I'm tired (but that is a normal every day thing since I don't sleep well here). Oh, and my stomach hurts. The only thing I could manage to eat today were some pretzels, anything else seemed repulsive.

At least it's Friday.

Favourite word of the day: flummoxed

"a series of unfortunate events"

Today has been really really really bad.

I don't even know where to start. How about the beginning? I hear it's a good place to start.

I went to my first class and couldn't focus at all. I would just start to stare off into space. Just like I did before writing this post. I drew more today than I actually learned. I do have to say my manga people are looking better.

I took the bus to my second class and slid out of the bus. Yes. I slid out of the bus. On my ass. And my my leg ended up all twisted somehow. I can't go a week without falling or sliding down the steps on the bus. But the thing was was that the bus stopped on a hill and the bus driver took his foot off the break and the bus went forward (down the hill) just as my right foot was attempting to land. He hit the break and the bus went backwards and my boot slipped off the edge and ... you get what happened.

Then I got an email about meeting with a potential voice actor for a radio drama. The host of the show said I had to work everything out with the candidate. That's fine. But what do you want me to do? Record the guy auditioning? With what? Oh, yes, that's right. I would need to record the audition with borrowed equipment from the library and then email him the file. I have never recorded anything in my life except a Calculus III class using voice memo on my iPhone. And I don't ever go into the library. (I went last week but I couldn't find the books - I just found the newspaper/magazine thingy where you put the slides in and see the pages on a computer like thingy). So, I am useless to this part of the radio drama production. And I couldn't make a poster for it because I don't know how to use InDesign. (what have I learned that is actually useful? I don't know...)

Then I had computer science workshop. That didn't go so well. We had a quiz. My mind went blank and you can probably see what happened. I know it was supposed to be simple, but it ended up a total mess.  I had to write the code for a pentagon using a for loop. The for loop was the issue (now I am thinking about pentagrams...I know that the only connection between pentagon and pentagram in the five part)

And then the bus schedule changes at five so I walked back to my dorm. Nothing bad happened then at least. Well, that's all for Ari's unfortunate adventures and injuries portion of today's The Spout post. I hope your day went better or at least you got a laugh at all of the above. If not, that really sucks.

I Can't Sleep Here! And more...

You know what's a great invention? Earplugs. That's right. That should be the first item on dorm room necessities list. Fo Realz.

I can't sleep well here. If it's not an incredibly loud banshee scream, it's someone running down the hall or playing really really loud, horrible music. I wake up at least four times a night. Don't these people sleep? What the hell is wrong with sleeping? Maybe there are giant cats living in all the other apartments. Cats are nocturnal creatures, so this could be a good theory.

(giant cats)

You know what's also annoying? Emails from the RA at least three days a week threatening you. Either you and your roommates me and sign an agreement, or you'll have to see the hall director. I'd rather see the hall director at this point. It's six weeks into the semester and I have yet to see one of my roommates. The other two, I have seen for less than ten minutes total.

I have a really good story for you, but you'll have to wait till I am done ranting.

Last week, I scheduled the appointment for us to meet. I asked the two that actually exist and was told they could make it. Tuesday, at 7:30pm came and went and guess who was the only one that showed up? That's right. Me. I'm not making another appointment.

So, I guess you might want to hear that story?

Well, I was sleeping and at around 2:40am, I heard banging coming from outside the apartment door. I thought it was all in my dream. The banging lasted for only a minute and all was quiet once again. I drifted back into sleep and didn't wake up again until 4:15am. I heard voices, yelling, crying and a seriously self incriminating story. That's right.

A roommate was found passed out in the hall. Apparently, the one who shall remain unnamed (I'll refer to her as her and she), drank too much. 'But I don't drink,' oh, but you did. And the legal drinking age is 21, not .02. And don't tell a cop you used a fake i.d. I guess no one ever told her to just say 'I want a lawyer.' I don't know what good it would have done, but she didn't need to tell them she used a fake i.d. I was just listening in my room when I heard a knock on my door. Two cops were standing there (both looking very tired), told me the story and then asked me if I wanted to 'watch' her.

'Ya know, so she won't fall.' One said.

I can't be responsible for her. What if she does fall or chokes on her own vomit? That's a HELL NO. I'm just glad some mysterious person I didn't see decided to just take her to the hospital. And then I went back to bed. But I couldn't sleep. So I read Edison's Eve by Gaby Wood. It's actually very interesting.

It's Wednesday...it's chump day!

Yesterday was horrible. Just horrible! It was gray outside, raining and humid. The first few minutes of the day were fine. But then, it took a turn for the worse at around 8:40 am, about fifty minutes from when I woke up. I decided to make coffee. I like coffee. I put two teaspoons of the freeze dried coffee into the cup, heated the water until boiling and that is where my problems began. The plastic was hot so I burned my fingertips. I then poured the hot water into the cup and again, I was burned from the splashes of boiling water droplets. I then took the spoon, mixed the coffee and water, left the spoon in the cup, turned around to get my mini -moos, picked of the spoon and of course it was hot and I burned my fingers again. I then put the lid on the coffee mug and took a sip. I should not have done that. I burned my lip.

Let's fast forward to around 1:00pm. I just got out of class and am now standing - wait, I need to go back. I just got out of class. I left the building through a side entrance and before me stands a massive puddle (and it's still raining). I'm not wearing rain boots. I repeat. I am not wearing rain boots. I see a ledge across the puddle, maybe a foot and a half away. I tried. I failed. I made it onto the ledge but inertia decided to bounce me right back in the opposite direction. I landed with both feet in the massive puddle. I sighed and tiptoed my way through the puddle to the concrete walkway. Yay, I made it. I continued on and reached the bus stop. I went underneath the covered 'shelter' at the stop. The sign said the blue bus would arrive in five minutes. Five minutes. Okay. While I was waiting, some real piece of work in a white Pontiac (I think) with a pizza delivery sign drives right along the curve at at least twenty five miles and hour and the water conveniently forms a wave that hits the concrete and hurls toward me. I take two steps back, stepping on another person waiting for the stop, missing the wall of water by one foot. Thanks a lot pizza delivery man.

I get on the second blue bus. I get off the blue bus and I attempt to close my umbrella which opened without my permission. It's not closing. Why is it not closing? I think there may be a piece of the fabric stuck towards the point where all the little evil spiky things reside. No nothing is stuck, but are you not closing?! I wrestle with the stupid umbrella until it bites back. It closed. While slicing my finger which is stuck where the sharp, pointy button thingy is. Is it bleeding? No, I don't think so. It's just a little red, but no, no. Still no blood. I take two steps and think, my, my finger really does hurt. I look at it. Bright red blood is trickling down the side of my finger. Blood is bursting through the cut, it's dripping onto the pavement. I can't get it to stop. It won't stop. I am now feeling faint...not really. But it really did bleed. And it freakin hurt (and still does more than 24 hours later)! And it didn't stop bleeding for a while. But that's not all that went wrong...

I finally make it back and by now, I'm a bit hungry. I decided on a frozen all ready been prepared entree, 'glazed chicken.' From the picture it looks, eh, somewhat appetizing. I opened the box, stuck the frozen tray in the microwave and waited for exactly five minutes and thirty seconds. Beep! Beep! Beep! My frozen entree is now unfrozen and from the looks of it, very hot. So I carefully choose to touch the tray at the corners. The tray is hovering about a millimeter above the microwave base when a puff of ridiculously hot steam erupts from the exact edge that I happen to be holding with the tips of my fingers. I drop the tray, try to reassure my fingers that they will be okay, say a few choice words to myself and then, again, I pick of the damn tray. I am now burned and it hurts. It REALLY HURTS. I take this 'food' back to my room after acquiring a lovely paper plate to carry the infamous tray. And I begin to eat. The 'chicken' is interesting. It's bouncy. And sometimes crunchy(?). The 'glaze' is more like brown, sticky, unappetizing goo. The rice, well, it's, it's...it's crunchy on the left and not crunchy on the right. The few slivers of green beans look as though they have been petrified and just walked out of hell. Apparently, there were peanuts. I thought I saw a piece of one. I ate. I wish I hadn't.

I almost forgot that I also took my trash out. You may say, you took your trash out and you're telling me that you had a horrifying experience? Yes. Yes I am. I had my keys on a crappy lanyard that the school gave me - thanks school for the crappy lanyard. I went to the trash room. Opened the latch and through the garbage down the hatch (heh :) rhyme ). I walked back to my room and, I can't figure out to  spell a throat sound of pure horror, when I realized I had one key but I was supposed to have two! I retraced my steps, nothing. I began to sweat within 15 seconds of losing my key. I looked everywhere. Did I lose it in the classroom? No, you had just unlocked the door. Oh yeah. Did it go down the trash shoot? Huhhh!!!?? I didn't hear clinking... It has to be here...and I found it. It was hiding under the corner of the rug.

I decided I wasn't going anywhere else today. I didn't until 8:12pm. Right when I was fifty four minutes into The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus (awesome movie, highly recommend, it reminds me of something, maybe how I think? could be...) there was a fire drill. I wore flip flops. I like flip flops, I've never said anything bad about flip flops. Anyway, They (the evil ones) made me go on the grass, which was wet and muddy. 'We know it's wet and we're very sorry' says some asian guy. Whatever. I took one step and my foot squished and sank into the grass. It reminded me of a school field trip to a marsh. If you are ever near a marsh, RUN AWAY. If you think you want to go to a marsh, YOU DON'T. Anywho, my foot was filthy. I made my way to the wet concrete and wiped my foot off. I couldn't decide if having my foot covered with grass and mud was worse than taking a chance and getting little worms squirming up and into the bottom of my feet. I gambled with the worms. And as soon as I got back, I rinsed them off in the tub. But instead, the water came through the shower head...and then the bottom faucet. I then slathered my feet in antibacterial gel :) . And went to bed. Because I couldn't take anymore.

I didn't get to write a post last week. But, I figure you were all dying to know what kind of bad stuff happened. I did burn my finger, but more importantly, I fell off a bus. I don't know how. I just know it happened. I think I may have fallen asleep for a millisecond of time as I was attempting to exit the bus. I can distinctly remember the concrete curb. At one point it was right in front of me - then towards the upper left of my sight - then to the right of my sight and then right in my face. I scraped up my knee, but suffered no major physical injuries. The emotional injures can go away for a small, small donation of $5 to whatever amount of money you would like to donate to my 'rainy days' fund (notice the s on the end of days...)

I hope you all take the time to appreciate this post because it took away valuable study time... Be grateful people. Be grateful.

Josh Groban Music Beloved By College Students

Who knew Josh Groban was super popular? I didn't until I heard one of Groban's songs blaring through the wall. I don't particularly care for Groban tunes, but still, you know it's too loud when I can Shazam it in my room...

My first spout...awww...how adorable...hissssss

It's 6:56 pm. I am mildly pissed, agitated and somewhat depressed. This isn't my normal self, well, almost. I am listening to the incessant hum and drip of my Haier mini fridge. It's now 6:58 pm. It's now 7:00 pm. You may be asking yourself, "what is wrong with this girl?" I'll tell you. It's the English. It's all their fault. I am sitting in my rectangular dorm room, furnished by Walmart and Kohl's - but mostly by Walmart - with a teal, magenta, mustard yellow and gray color scheme. It does look lovely, courtesy of Mommy and Daddy, but still.  I have no dog, no Chihuahua nor Pekingese, nor my menacing cat that bites. At least I can watch Fox News Channel on my phone and Fox News Live Online...And for all of you who say FNC is a bunch of nonsense, I'll tell you that Fox News is "fair and balanced" and if you disagree, well then you're just plain biased and ignorant*.

*It's my blog so I can write whatever the hell I want and you can't stop me. Until the first amendment is repealed, I can voice my voice...so there!

So back to the English. It's all their fault that I, and thousands of others are at colleges and universities - ripped away from their families! I knew when I was six years old, SIX years old people!, that I didn't want to ever leave home. Right about now I expect some of you are thinking, "going away to college is a 'good' thing, it promotes personal growth." Well, what if I am already grown and I just happen to know that I didn't want to leave home. To society, children above eighteen living at home is like a disease- maybe like Bullous Pemphigoid, but I am certainly not a blister. In other countries, it's perfectly acceptable and 'normal' (American word of choice). I am sooooooo tired of people saying "It's normal to go away to school, is that behavior normal?, that's not normal to not want to leave home... And growth is another crap word too, "she''ll grow, you'll grow, you'll both grow..." You know what happens to things that grow? They eventually reach maturity and then die! So I guess, in effect, I'm like a droopy, discolored, depressing looking plant about to keel over the side of the terra-cotta pot. Why can't people let other people die slowly, happily and in peace? Why?

The English were the first to travel around the world and 'civilize' the poor, uncivilized people. The English do-gooders, with their "white man's burden" and frilly clothing forced their religion onto native persons, purged them of their culture, brought death and disease, and ugly ass wigs covered in dust. And that is what our society is based on, a bunch of meanness, narcissism, filth and ego.

Because of the English I am suffering. Suffering, yes, suffering from societal norms. I loathe these societal norms and this "peer pressure" from other human beings. Who gave humans this kind of power? Why, it must have been god because that is where the English and all the other ruling civilizations got their "mandate" to force their ideals onto innocent, happy people.  It's all about fear. Fear - fear is power. Religion was created to instill fear within mass populations for one reason, to gain power.

Do you see my point? If you do, great, kudos to you.

If you don't, it's most likely because you are brainwashed. Your mind is saturated - polluted with these exact societal norms I speak of. Maybe you aren't a free thinker, maybe you'll never understand. The best thing you can do is to repent your sins by no longer casting these hellish ideas and pressures onto others because who are you to tell others that you know best? You and I are animals. Highly functioning animals that can be cruel, terrible and ghastly. We are mere creatures that roam the earth for a finite amount of time. So be kind and make no generalizations upon others because each individual knows what is best for themselves. I do not need nor desire anyone's advice or 'words of encouragement' (i.e. "you'll be fine"... [my ass])  from anyone unless asked. I just want my furry people, my blanket and pillow, and my home where the people who care most about me reside.