Gross Stalls, New Walls

Driving 14 hours to stay at a place for a week is sort of frustrating. There are semis going over the speed limit, friends in the car repeating every word on Dr. Dre’s album The Chronic, and cows are the only proof of life existing in these dreadful highway environments. Once you finally pass through a bigger city, though, you soon see many things that you can’t find in Evansville, Indiana.

Graffiti is beautiful, and in Atlanta and Nashville, it is everywhere. It is like a splash of color to a boring wall that needed something. Many artists start out careers while working with graffiti. I don’t consider it bad at all. Destruction of property should be focus on the actual destruction of something. Writing on a wall is sort of like making the once boring object new. It is a new start to a disastrous beginning.

Florida seems like a long ways away, especially in a tiny car. We needed something to listen to, so I brought along some standup comedy specials on cds. The first disc we listened to was the only album made by Demetri Martin. In it, Martin jokes around about haircuts, cologne, and other everyday objects and situations. He has a really funny joke that caught my attention. It just happened to be about graffiti. Martin says, “Graffiti’s the most passionate literature there is, you know? It’s always like, ‘Bush sucks!’ ‘U2 Rocks!’ I want to make indifferent graffiti. ‘Toy Story 2 was okay!’ ‘I like Sheryl as a friend, but I’m not sure about taking things further.’ ‘This is a bridge!’”

That joke inspired me to step over the line in our current society. Every time I go into a bathroom I always see similar, extreme things. It always starts out, “Metallica rocks!” Then someone marks out “rocks” and puts over that “sucks”, making Metallica seem a lot worse than previously expected. Then someone writes, “You suck.” It is a constant battle that eventually leads to, well, nothing. Should I stick to the conventional norms, or should I step out in the graffiti world?

My friend Max beat me to it while in Florida. After that, I had second thoughts on graffiti. We were up late our first night there. Two things threatened us staying at my friend’s house. The first, a well known threat, is being intoxicated during early parts in the morning. The second threat was a pink permanent marker that had Max’s name written all over it. Not literally, though. Luckily, I didn’t find out about this until the next morning.

I went outside to feel the warmth on my skin. Noon feels like Evansville’s summer every day in Deerfield Beach, Florida. The only problem was that there was a gigantic pink Wu-bird drawn on the picnic table. In case you are unfamiliar with a Wu-bird, it is the symbolic equivalent to the gangster rap group, Wu Tang Clan. I would recite some lyrics by the group, but I want to keep this paper’s audience as diverse as I can.

Zack’s mom doesn’t like Wu Tang Clan. It was either that, or she didn’t like Max. This was my mind telling me, “Maybe graffiti isn’t so cool after all.” We stayed at their house for another four days, with similar accidents and incidents being constant. On the fifth day, we were asked to leave Deerfield Beach and find a hotel to stay out. If you could have any consequence, being stranded in Florida with no insight of how much money is left would not be the first pick for me. Unfortunately, that was our only option.

We left Florida a couple days after that. Thoughts of the sand, tanning supplies, and oils still make me sick to my stomach. On top of that, I found myself in a sticky situation with my ex-girlfriend as soon as a got home. I’m unwelcomed there and here. All this rage built up in my system made my stomach upset. Luckily, a public restroom was available downstairs in the Liberal Arts Building at the University of Southern Indiana.

When I sat on the toilet, I started to read the random, yet usual, filth written all along the walls. The first line said something like, “’Stairway to Heaven’ changed my life!” Someone wrote over that, “That is a generic example of bathroom stall graffiti.” Well, it didn’t say that, but you get my point.

I was so angry, and I didn’t have anything to say about “Stairway to Heaven.” I mean, sure, it is a good song, but the rock ballad isn’t enough to brag or gripe about. I soon realized that making fun of bathroom wall graffiti is graffiti itself. I wanted to write something down, but due to past experiences I’ve learned that writing it down isn’t always the best thing to do in public spheres, even if the sphere is a bathroom stall. What would I write, anyways?

Thanks to Demetri Martin, the words came out much better than how I expected them to. I wrote on the stall downstairs, “Toy Story 2 was okay”. There are only two things a reader could retrieve from that statement. Either Toy Story 2 is worth mentioning, or arguing isn’t always necessary in life. Whether you are arguing with girlfriends, parents, or angry people on bathroom stalls, someone is going to get hurt. Keep conversations clean, and keep graffiti nice.

The next time you see anything bad written on a bathroom wall, whether it is racism or just a joke going too far, write next to it “Toy Story 2 is okay.” I mean, it sounds really silly, but it means something. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think anything with Tim Allen’s voice in it is significant, but that goes for petty arguments as well. They aren’t needed. I soon learned that after scribbling on the wall.

Everyone should start writing over the walls that are already painted with trash. Maybe less people will argue. Either that, or Toy Story 3 will be made, making this act of graffiti a little bit outdated. Either way, be nice to others. Only us as individuals can decide on what is right and what is wrong. Being nice to others is right, right? Right.

Analyzing a Blog

Jacob Gay
Dibacco
English 201
25 February 2009
Understanding Change: New Beginnings from Old Testaments

Third grade was the year for me. My sister was so involved with Crossroads Christian Church. She attended each Sunday and participated in many Wednesday studies. She influenced me and my mother to start going to Crossroads. Even though the church is gigantic, especially for a chubby, short kid, I soon developed new friendships and met a lot of interesting people. It was the same for Lumanor in her blog, Citetez.

Every Sunday was a day to look forward to. I would eat too many doughnuts and bagels to the point where even God found it unholy. Church had its perks without the highly saturated fat. I would play this Bible game for the Nintendo Entertainment System. Not the Nintendo 64 or the Gamecube or the Wii. Crossroads kept it old school (either that or the Bible games got blown away by animated rocket launchers and machine guns).

I forget the main objective of the game. All I know is that you could walk around town and jump on things while talking to people about Jesus. It made religion adventurous. It was like a holy war for a little kid who rides his bike around and screams Bible verses at old people.

Lumanor went to church for a different reason. “My nearly 13 year marriage had been troubled for a very long time - pretty much since the 2nd year. And one of the biggest reasons it lasted as long as it did was religion. It was morally wrong to get a divorce (Lumanor 1 paragraph 4).” She writes on, “About 6 months before I made the decision to contact a lawyer and truly get my divorce going, there was a very dark time in my marriage in which I wanted to separate. I was mostly getting guidance from church folk, whose message was ‘stay at all costs’.” She wanted to listen to herself instead of a book, though (Lumanor 1 Paragraph 5).

She soon left the church to follow her own path, just like I did my freshman year of high school. I started to realize that a man being swallowed by a big fish isn’t too likely. I also thought that if God has the power to do anything, why wouldn’t he make everyone Christian? There is no point in Earth if Heaven exists. Everyone would want to live there. It’s like telling someone that they will live in a mansion after living in the dumpster at the back of Hooters if they do good deeds. I just want the mansion.

Not everyone agrees with that, though. Whenever I left church, there wasn’t a massive following of ex-followers following me out. That might be a tongue twister, but I lost my church friends. Surely they weren’t just hanging out with me because I had a prominent voice during prayer, but I guess that was overestimated.
It just became awkward after that. Recently the music minister called me and asked to go out to lunch, but it is just sort of hard to explain that I don’t really fit in with Jesus anymore. Lumanor writes, “I will admit right now, I don't really keep in touch with my former church friends. After I'd stopped going, I did received a few phone calls here and there but honestly the talks were uncomfortable to me and so a bit stilted. I didn't have it in me to explain things very well, and so I didn't (Lumanor 2 Paragraph 2).” I blamed not going for a funeral. She blamed hers on a divorce.

Her blog really made me feel like there are more people like me. She is very humble to say that she just runs on emotions. She makes a lot of good points as well. The Bible, at times, can seem very outdated to current day standards. She mostly writes for friends, but it seems to be that anyone can relate to her situation. She lost her guide, or the bible, when she decided to leave her church. After that mishap, Lumanor figured out the most interesting thing in life: there is a lot more to figure out.