Taylor D. Actually posted his views on modern television and I'd just like to throw out my response (thank you, Taylor for providing me with some material on which to base my final blog post).

I couldn't agree more. Perhaps TV is just a dying industry and so caters to the lowest common denominator of viewers. I think a very appropriate opinion on television was best expressed by a good friend of mine, "It just seems like television is more or less white trash entertainment."
Sorry if that offends anyone but when I think of the amount of crap that one could watch, the amount of time once could dedicate to watching crap - then yes, I'd have to agree with him.

Also commercials. I fucking hate commercials. Waste of time, absolute waste of time. I have a select number of network shows like The Office, and Battlestar Galactica (mmmm, yes) that I can just find on-line for free. Why doesn't everyone just find the shows they like on the internet (they are out there).

I save so much time by not having to deal with such depressing requests for me to purchase Life Alert, Cash for Gold, or Extense "natura" Male Enhancement. You used to be able to tell a lot about viewer profiles based on commercials alone. Now, they are fucking everywhere. Doesn't matter if I happen across the discovery channel or cartoon network (late at night) I get asked to send my family heirlooms for (legal?) tender, while also getting barraged with subliminal messaging informing me how attractive I am while putting back a classy bottle of Budweiser.

I got no judgments, I just call it like I see it.

Cheers! (this is another show which is easily obtained on these new-fangled interwebz)

As the last day of classes approaches, followed by finals, students must look to alternative options for motivation, sleep, and a number of other important things.  Sometimes we have dogs that come in to relieve stress, sometimes you see a spike of students at the Davis center pool table.  Everybody's got their own thing that they do in the finals time.

Me?  I listen to music, and write.  There's nothing like blasting music until you can feel your brain vibrate, and writing with the emotion that kind of song listening can only give you.  That's how I get through finals week.

What do you do?

What is the difference between a song and poetry?

Both can rhyme, or not.  Many poems have rhythm, like a song would. 

Maybe the difference is in the intention of the poem (gasp! Intentional fallacy all you english majors!)  Poems are to display an image in your head, and while most songs do the same thing, most songs are a story of some kind.  A specific story, not neccesarily one wth a bigger meaning.  A poem isn't really a poem if it doesn't show you an image, and suggest the shit out of it. 

What do you find are differences, or unobvious similarities between songs and poems?

Thanksgiving Break.  It can be a time for joy, a time for thanks (obviously), a time for family, or it can be a time of other things.

I believe my Thanksgiving Break fell under the "other things" category.

While I had lots of family up, which is always great to see (other than the incredibly stereotypical comments about my foreign girlfriend).  We had so much family up, in fact, that I was kicked out of my room to sleep on the couch.  Better still, was the fact that my house at night is heated by one pellet stove.  Naturally, the heat rises.  The stove is in the Kitchen I was asleep on the livingroom couch huddled with my dog for survival.  He's a Mini Dachsund, it didn't work all that well.  Although, my call of "could get this worse", was soon answered at 6am every morning by my nephew playing bongo drums next to my head.

Hope all your breaks were less chaotic than mine.

Josh stands - lucky s.o.b. - and looks down the hall to the double doors. I can hear shouting. On the back of my chair hangs a backpack; same one I've had since 8th grade. I take out a picture and stare at it. I think it's my ex, Kinki. She was...hmm...seems like a lifetime ago now but I guess it was only a month before "The Event" that we split. I wonder if she made it down here too.

I slump back down, the memory of my last day's before the crash. Reveling in the last brief moments, standing against the breeze and the sun-.

I hear my name being called, "Chad," - oh right, that's me.