Perspective

            An Indian anthropologist studied a tribe called the Asu. The tribe worshipped a rare, strong, bull-like creature called the “Rac”. From the outside looking in, the rac is only detrimental to the tribe. It breeds at such a rapid rate, overcrowding is becoming a problem. The tribe spends excessive amounts of money and effort to pave roads for the racs to walk on. To make matters worse, the racs are prone to racing and crashing into each other. Since only a few people in the community have the right training and selection of charms, treating the rac is expensive. Through all of this, the Asu people still see the rac as essential to their tribe. At the age of sixteen, it’s seen as a rite of passage to appeal to a high priest and receive a rac. In fact, wealthy families own herds of racs to display their prestige. Members of the society without a rac are considered lower esteem.

            After reading this story, most of you would agree that the Asu tribe would be better off without the rac. Most people read the story of the Asu and can easily rattle off different plans of action to help the tribe. Without even knowing the full history of the rac in the tribe, we immediately start to judge them or make up ways to “fix” them.

            Well, the Asu tribe and the rac are not real. When spelled backwards, “Asu” is “USA” and “rac” is “car”. The first time I heard this, it took me a minute, but everything matched up. America spends millions of dollars paving roads for our cars to drive on, car service is expensive since there aren’t many shops, and cars are consistently racing and crashing into each other. Wealthy people show off their social stature by owning collections of lavish cars while people who don’t own cars are often seen as lower class. It’s even expected that we get a license and a car when we turn sixteen. It’s easy to see a problem in someone else, but it’s hard to see the same issue in yourself. For example, I turned 16 a little over a month ago now. On my birthday, I was expected to get my license and a car soon after. In my mind, I need a car. I need to travel to school and to all of my extra-curricular activities and the only way I can do this is with a car. However, someone may argue that I could bike to school, which is safer, or I could ride a bus to my extra-curriculars, which is better for the environment. Even with all of the alternatives and disadvantages of having a car, I’m still convinced that it’s the best option for me. The story of the rac is meant to show us that it’s easy to see the faults in other people, groups, and societies, but hard to see the problems in our own daily lives.  

Link to original story: www.drabruzzi.com/sacred_rac.html

ACTUAlly

Warning: The following blog post is not particularly entertaining, silly, or similar to my previous posts in any way. I’m trying a different, more serious approach. (Who knows how long that will last).

During the past couple of months, I’ve been researching possible first cars for myself. From convertibles to sedans, off-roaders to motorcycles, I think I can say that “I’ve seen it all”. One of the most important characteristics of the car is that it must have low insurance rates. I’m sixteen and, as many people know, men under the age of twenty-five are consistently charged more for car insurance than people of other demographics: middle-aged women, teenage women, elderly men, etc. Angry with what I previously perceived as “age discrimination”, I started to wonder, “who decides these insurance rates anyway?” After doing a little research, I found a group of people called actuaries. Actuaries use recent statistics to predict the likelihood of future events. They estimate the probability and economic cost of natural disasters, design business strategies to minimize risk and maximize profitability, and produce reports to explain their proposals and calculations. I wondered, “Aside from insurance, how else does Actuarial Science affect my everyday life?”

One way is through basketball. Our team examines our statistics and an opponent’s stats to determine how we should play an upcoming game. For example, during the one of our conference tournament games last season, we evaluated the statistics of our opponents. Their top scorer was a 6’5” center scoring over 20 points per game. We also saw that most of these points were scored right after offensive rebounds. To decide how we would guard this player, we looked at the statistics of our own team. A common trend in basketball is that the taller players tend to get the most rebounds. We decided that the best matchup for this opponent would be our 6’2” center who averaged the most defensive rebounds per game on our team. We predicted that this would be the most efficient matchup because it would limit the opponents number of rebounds, therefore limiting their scoring.

I’ve always been pretty set on going to college and pursuing an engineering degree. This past summer though, I went to a camp focused on actuarial science. I learned a lot about this new subject that, before about February, I didn’t even know existed. One primary takeaway from this experience is that actuaries make money. Not to say that engineers don’t make money, but the work to income ratio as an actuary is much more favorable. Maybe I’ll toss engineering to the side and work at Geico one day. 

Foosball Chronicles

A few days ago, I was halfheartedly doing work during my free period when a friend challenged me to a game of foosball. For the sake of his privacy and self-esteem, we’ll call this friend “Charleston”. I, being my overly competitive self, accepted his challenge. We played 3 or 4 games at “low intensity” and, after he won 2, Charleston started to get cocky. He made a bet with me that the first person to win 3 games would get a medium basket of tater tots from the “Cracked” food truck.

This was his first mistake. Charleston and I have been friends for a while and he knows that I would never agree to a bet that I couldn’t win. He won the first game but I won 3 games in a row. A medium tot was waiting for me whenever I wanted it. Instead of taking the loss and leaving with his dignity, Charleston asked for a rematch. He said, “If you win the next game, I’ll get you 2 medium tots from Cracked. But, if I win, you don’t get anything.”

That was Charleston’s second mistake. After taking a serious butt-whooping in the first few “high-intensity” games, he should’ve realized that he was no match for my foosball skills. I accepted this new bet and won the game with ease. Now 2 medium tots were calling my name. Later that day however, I was talking to a senior, we’ll call him Noah Red, about my recent foosball victories. Mr. Red reminded me of the fact that Cracked doesn’t sell medium tots, only small and large. Knowing this, I marched to the lounge, and informed Charleston of the news. I challenged him to yet another duel but, this time, I made the bet. I told him, “If I win, I get 2 large tots from Cracked. If I lose, I only get one small.” He accepted my offer.

This was Charleston’s third mistake. He’d already been smacked around in the last games. Why try your luck in another one? Long story short, I whooped him again. I had more tots waiting for me than I could eat, and that was the problem. What am I supposed to do with all those tator tots?! I would probably end up sharing them with Charleston which takes away my abiblity to gloat. So, the next day after school, I told him I didn’t want the tots; I wanted the monetary equivalent of the tots ($7.50) and, if I lost, he would only owe me half of the money. Can you guess what happened? I’ll give you a second to think…

Yes, I beat him again. Somehow though, Charleston still had hope left. He decided, if I scored the next goal, I would get a whopping $15 but, if he scored, I’d only get $5. It was a risky move, but I accepted. Actually, it wasn’t risky, it was just stupid on my part. But the trend continued that I won. Charleston continued to make foosball-based bets with me until the end of the week and is now in $20 debt to me. Lesson here? Gambling addictions are tough. Call 1-800-522-4700 for help.

5 Commandments

There are many things that happen on an everyday basis that make me angry. However, you’ll only read about 5 of them in this post. Why? I’m lazy. You may think that some of these are nitpicks, but whatever.

(P.S. Some of these situations apply mainly to males. This has become a common trend in my blog posts, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to change this in future posts)

Thou shall not smack on food or gum in public. Okay, I get it. You just came from P.E. and you’re looking at that leftover spaghetti like a lion staring down an injured gazelle but, just because you may feel like a raging animal from the Serengeti, you don’t have to sound like one. Just because your orange Trident gum may be juicier than an actual orange, don’t chew it so loudly that you end up sounding like a hungry giraffe.            

Thou shall not look or talk to me while I’m using a urinal. This should be self-explanatory, but I’ll try to make it clear for all of the personal space violators out there. The bathroom is a sacred place. It’s where we’re able to let out all of our… negativity. It’s the one place in any building that nobody can judge you. Staring at me will only make me uncomfortable and cause me to stare back at you. Trust me, you don’t want to be in a staring contest while trying to use the bathroom. If you know someone very well, you may be able to hold a short conversation. Familiar Person 1: “Hey Jim”

Familiar Person 2: “Hey John”

1: “Nice weather today, huh?”

2: “Dude it’s great”

Unless there’s about to be a natural disaster near the building and you need to notify people of the impending threat, there shouldn’t be much more talking going on until you’ve both moved on to the “hand-washing” stage.

Thou shall consistently wear deodorant. What many people don’t understand is that wearing deodorant really isn’t for you. It’s for the people around you. We understand that you may be having a pretty long day and it’s 999 degrees Celsius outside. However, this doesn’t give you the right to ruin the day of the people sitting next to you.

Also, know the difference between deodorant and cologne/perfume. Deodorant kills the stench while cologne and perfume just mask it for a short time period. Be smart and invest in a stick of deodorant or a bottle of spray-on deodorant.

Thou shall not impede on personal space. This is sort of like the urinal etiquette, but more general. The “personal bubble” is a space where, most of the time, you and only you can be in. Standing too close to someone is just as bad as going to the urinal directly next to them when others are available. It’s unnecessary, it makes everyone uncomfortable, and it allows other people to smell your possibly bad body odor or breath.

Thou shall not excessively complain. With that being said, I’m going to stop complaining. Thank you for reading this huge paradox brought to you by The Department of Redundancy Department.

Crack Kills

No, I’m not talking about the drug. In the title, “Crack” refers to the mortal enemy of every pubescent teenage male; the voice crack. A voice crack is nature’s off-putting way of telling everyone in the room, “ALERT: A pubescent child is among you”. For the females out there, or boys who haven’t yet experienced the discouraging effects of having a voice crack in front of a large group of people, let me explain. Actually, before I start, pretty much all of the information that you’re about to read is pretty subjective.

Wikipedia says, “Voice break generally refers to transitions between different vocal registers of the human voice”. Basically, you can go from sounding like the Greek God of manliness to sounding like an elementary school girl for about half of a second. While it may not seem like such a big deal, trust me, it is. Voice cracks seem to only happen in front of a lot of people or in front of very important people. For example, while talking about the of the sacred Rac of the Asu tribe in the discussion section of my SOC 100 class, I thought of a great point to add to the conversation. I raised my hand and began to speak. Everything was going fine until my voice cracked harder than an iPhone 7 dropped from the top of the Eiffel tower. A few girls sitting next to me giggled a little bit, but then it was all over, for them at least. For me, the struggle had just begun. See, when you’re voice cracks, everyone notices and they only care for about 7 seconds. However, the mental effect on you is much deeper. You start to forget what you were even talking about. You’re instantly insecure about your “manhood”. Your entire world revolves around the fraction of a second that really had zero significant impact on society. The worst part is, there’s really no remedy for the embarrassment a guy. You can’t play it cool like it never happened, because you’ll probably end up making it seem more dramatic than it was in the first place. You pretty much have to “walk it off”.

With all that being said, the next time a guy’s voice cracks when you’re talking to him. Do one of two things. You can contain your laughter and remember that it’s a key part of them becoming a man and you shouldn’t make fun of them for it. Or, if you have no soul, Act like you have to go to the bathroom and laugh in there. Sorry for ranting but my voice cracking is something that I’ve genuinely had to deal with for a long time and it’s annoying.

Sidenote/P.S.: You should read about the Asu tribe and the sacred Rac sometime. It’s a very interesting story.

Pickup Basketball: Scrambled Thoughts

I started consistently playing pickup basketball when I moved to Champaign in 2014. This was when I first gained access to the Stephens family YMCA, more commonly known as “the Y”. During the school year, you can find me at the Y Friday night, all day on Saturday, and all day on Sunday. When school’s out, I’m pretty much at the Y for 6 hours a day (Sidenote: I’m mostly playing basketball during those hours, but I can also be found lifting weights, waiting for a court to open, or trying to talk to some girl that’s out of my league). I truly feel like it has made me a better basketball player in a way that no drill, film review, or workout routine can. However, my friends and I have noticed that kids are really straying away from pickup games. People from my grade play pickup at the park or the Y, and so does the grade above us. Even college students and adults are seen often at the Y playing a game or two. But it’s rare for us to see a freshman or sophomore that’s serious about playing pickup.

Now, what do I mean by “serious”? 98.765% of pickup basketball players have, at some point, argued about how seriously a game should be taken. Since there’s no clear “reward” for winning the game, it’s hard to determine how much effort should go in. You should never play a pickup game like your life depends on it. Then you risk injury and, if you’re playing pickup basketball to get better for the actual competitive season, an injury isn’t helping you at all. You also shouldn’t feel like you’re dragging your team down. You shouldn’t be letting your man, the guy/girl (because it’s 2017) you’re guarding, score with ease each time down the court. As a general rule, be a role player. Score where you can. Don’t let your man score. Pass more than you shoot.

I could talk for weeks about pickup basketball, but at this point, you’re probably just hoping that I would find a synonym for “pickup”. You may even be considering buying a new pickup truck. If so, stop by the Y on your way to the dealership. You may even see yours truly.