Dexter

       When I get interested in a television show, it’s hard for me to stay away. I will start on episode one and go straight through every episode as far as the show has currently gone. I have done this for multiple shows, including Entourage, The Simpsons (ten out of twenty-four seasons so far), Community, Parks and Recreation, Modern Family, American Horror Story and Mad Men. However, none of these can match my obsession with the show Dexter. Summer before my freshman year here at TCU, my brother told me about this show he watched that he was hooked on. So I decided to check it out. I didn’t realize how much my social life would drop after I began the show. I watched the first three seasons of the show, a total of thirty-six hours of television, in the first month of school. Yes, there were probably other things I could have done with that time. But... I regret nothing.

       The main reason I love the show so much is because the characterizations of each person on the show are so definite. The show follows Dexter Morgan, a blood spatter analyst for Miami Metro Police Department. When he was three years old, he witnessed his mother murdered and sat in her blood for two days before he was found. Ever since then, he has had a “dark passenger” that causes him to need to hurt and kill. As a teenager, his adopted father, Harry, discovered this badness in Dexter and gave him a code-- a specific way about executing his kills and deciding who his victims would be-- to live by in order to satisfy this need but keep himself from getting caught. From then on, Dexter would only seek out murderers not convicted or people who he believed deserved to die, as his victims. He becomes a vigilante.

       With that said, Dexter is not Batman. He is a regular human being who has extremely severe subconscious problems that cause an addiction. But yes, Dexter is a serial killer that works at the police department. The overall explanation of the show sounds dumb and too fictitious to ever work. However, what makes Dexter such a sensational show is how flawlessly it seems to bring this odd character to life, and how even with Dexter’s dark tendencies, we are always able to connect and sympathize with him. Obviously, we are not serial killers. But the overall themes of the importance of family, our ability or inability to repress our emotions, loneliness, fear, insecurity, personal vs. professional lives and where they cross, and many more allow us to follow Dexter’s complicated life and be entertained while relating certain aspects of the characters’ lives to our own. In no way does the show display Dexter as the good guy for killing these people. In fact, Dexter states multiple times that if he could just stop his addiction, he could live a safer, happier life. However, he can’t get rid of his dark passenger and must follow the code to keep himself from getting caught.

       The shows supporting characters, which includes Dexter’s sister from the adopted family, Debra, who works as a detective at Miami Metro, are also incredible and help create a believable world surrounding Dexter’s life. The show follows Dexter as he deals with the suspicions of coworkers, keeping his secrets, discovering other serial killers, evading arrest or death, starting a family while keeping his secrets, and most importantly, the consequences of having this dark passenger. If you have not ever seen the show, you should at least watch the first episode. However, I will warn you now, it is extremely addicting.

Cross-Country Snow: Male Bonding and Obligations

       Cross-Country Snow has a way of displaying the way that men bond in its truest form, as well as dealing with the choices we all face in life and which path we should take. This story starts with Nick and George getting off a ski lift and skiing down a mountain in the Swiss Alps together. As soon as they get to the bottom, they hike over to an inn to get a drink. They sit inside the inn and drink and talk about life for awhile before getting up, putting their skis back on, and skiing back home.

       One of the reasons I like this story so much is because it displays how many friendships of men are formed-- through shared experiences. While there is definitely some grey area in between, I do believe that men and other men become friends in different ways than women become friends with women. When I think of my best friends-- and this is how many would describe their best friends-- they are the people that have been with me through thick and thin, who have had fun with me, who have helped me through problems, who have experienced amazing things with me. When I think of how some women bond, I think of them talking to each other, getting to know each other, understanding each other and being there for each other when one needs to talk. The skiing used in this story is a perfect representation of how I have bonded with my best friends. It is the unspoken things. We don’t need to talk about how awesome something was, we don’t need to try to explain it, we don’t need to spill our feelings about it, we just experience it, and once you have that shared experience with someone, you are bonded. Nick and George both know the feeling that each gets skiing down those slopes. It does not need to be explained; it is an unspoken bond they feel. This is good male bonding at its best.

       The other reason I liked this story is because of the relatable situation Nick and George face in the tavern. Let’s look at the big picture. Both men are in a tavern in the Swiss Alps, away from the rest of the world and from any worldly problems. However, they have things waiting for them back in the real world. George “got to get educated;” he has to leave that evening on a train to take him back to school. Nick is going to have a baby with Helen, and does not seem too excited to return. In fact, both don’t seem too keen on returning to their normal lives and responsibilities. As George says, “Gee, Mike, don’t you wish we could just bum together?” 

       Both would much rather stay in Europe and just ski. However, they both have obligations to fulfill. George has made a commitment to get an education and is determined to complete that. And as much as Nick doesn’t seem to want to go back to the wife of his child, he must. Why? Because it’s the right thing to do. Many times in life we are faced with a choice: do what we want to do, or do what we believe is the right thing to do. And I truly believe it is at these moments that our character is tested the most and eventually determined. Nick and George both decide to do what they believe is the right thing to do, and to ignore what they want to do, to stay and ski. Through this, they both grow as men. Being a man does not mean not doing what you want. Rather, it means taking responsibility and following through on obligations.

The Three Day Blow: Real and Relatable

       The Three Day Blow, one of Ernest Hemingway’s stories of the life of his fictional character Nick Adams, was one of my favorite stories of the year because of how relatable and real it was. The story follows directly after The End of Something, in which Nick ends the relationship with his girlfriend, Marjorie, because “it isn’t fun anymore.” In the new story, Nick arrives at Bill’s house, who met up with him right after the break-up, and they sit and talk for awhile about different subjects and drink some Scotch and whiskey. Eventually, Bill brings up Marjorie and Nick begins having second thoughts about the break-up, but is comforted by the thought that he could always go back if he wanted to.

       One of the reasons I loved this story so much was because how real it seemed. At the beginning of this blog, I mentioned that Nick Adams was a fictional character of Hemingway’s imagination. However, Nick feels as real as one of my friends. One of the reasons the whole atmosphere of this story feels so real is because of the language of the scene. It is not emphasized by huge descriptive words, but rather states that we are in Bill’s cottage and leaves the rest for our imagination to fill. Sometimes, I enjoy knowing exactly what the author had in mind when he/she was thinking of a setting, and therefore descriptive words about the area are needed to place me in that exact environment. However, in this instance, the conversation between Bill and Nick was more important than knowing exactly where they were when they were talking.

       Another factor that helped the realism of this story was the subject of conversation between the two men. They start with small talk about the Cardinals, then which author is better between Chesterton and Walpole, then fishing, the whole time continuing the drink more and more whiskey and Scotch. What is the point of having this small talk before getting to the main point of conversation which is obviously Nick’s breakup with Marjorie? Personally (and I’m sure this isn’t what a lot of scholars would argue), it added to the reality of the scene. When a friend comes over to my room, I don’t immediately divulge into whatever important topic we might have to talk about, especially if he has just broken up with his girlfriend. Our conversation might go something like this:

Me: “Hey man, what’s up?

Friend: “Hey, not much, just seeing what you’re up to.”

M: “Oh nice, well I was gonna take a break from studying. You wanna play Halo?”

F: “For sure. I need me some good Haloing right now.”

M: “Did you see that Broncos game?? Tebow is the MAN!”

F: “Maaaan, that was bull. He’s so overrated. Just wait until he stops getting lucky and the Broncos won’t win another game. I’ll bet you money.”

M: “Pshhhhh, whatever. You know they’re a force to be reckoned with now.”

F: “No way. What book are you reading in Lit and Civ now?”

M: “Nick Adams Stories. They’re pretty good. I like Hemingway. He’s to the point and easy to read and I like his subtlety.”

F: “Oh yeah I read a few of those in high school. He’s okay. I like John Steinbeck better though for sure. The Grapes of Wrath was so good.”

M: “What! That’s what I read if I couldn’t get to sleep. It’s so boring.”

F: “Agree to disagree, man.”

M: “Okay okay... Anyway man, I heard you and that girl broke up.”

       I would not immediately bring up the conversation about the girlfriend. I would let him get comfortable, small talk with him, relax for a little bit before getting into anything serious. I believe Hemingway created this dialogue about the Cardinals and favorite authors in order to add to the realism of the scene.

       Nick mentioned at one point that Marjorie’s mother thought they were engaged at one point. Obviously, this relationship was not one of a fleeting nature. Anyone who has been in a lengthy relationship that has not worked out can relate to Nick in this situation just after breaking up with Marjorie. While he is not enjoying the relationship anymore, this is the woman he has been with for however long and has gotten close to; no matter what, he is bound to have feeling drawing him back, making him second guess his decision.

       There is a funny quote that I’ve heard multiple times that the only honest people in the world are children and drunk people. While this is obviously not entirely true, there is at least some inflection in it. Children do not know any better, don’t process the consequences and don’t think that it might be wrong to be completely honest at a given time. On the other side, being intoxicated has a way of loosening people up and allowing them to act in a more primal, childlike way without thinking before speaking. I think that the whiskey and Scotch in this story serve that specific purpose. Nick and Bill continue to get more drunk. As they do, and the conversation of Marjorie eventually comes up, Nick’s emotions come to surface. It is obvious that he is regretting his decision. “All he knew was that he had once had Marjorie and that he had lost her.” Then Bill mentions that they shouldn’t talk about it because he wouldn’t want Nick to get back into it. “Nick had not thought about that. I had seemed so absolute. That was a thought. That made him feel better.” He had considered him and Marjorie done forever, but the thought that it wasn’t absolute, that he could go back to her if he wanted, made him happier. I believe the drinking serves the purpose of displaying Nick’s emotions with honesty. Had they not been drinking, he probably would not have felt such a yearning to return to Marjorie-- the fact that the spark was not there anymore would have been fresh in his mind. However, we are described what he is feeling as he feels them, without thought or logic interfering-- raw Nick. And in this instance, he is missing Marjorie and is comforted by the fact he can have her back.

Stella

       My vehicle has had quite the history in its short life. My dad bought this dark green 1998 Ford Mustang convertible when it was new in 1998 for my mother for their fifteenth wedding anniversary. When my brother turned fifteen in 2002, he received the ‘Stang as his first car. In 2003, my brother and uncle traded cars, with my uncle receiving the convertible until he blew out the engine in 2005. In April of 2006, I had just turned fourteen and therefore had just gotten my learner’s permit, allowing me to drive anywhere as long as an adult was in the car. My parents surprised me by fixing up the vehicle and giving it to me as my first car ever. Of course in their eyes, it wasn’t my car officially until I could legally drive it myself, but in my eyes, it was all mine already. I’ve had that car now, which I named Stella after the first time I drove her, since that fateful day in April 2006 and she has been a pleasure to drive.

       I’ll start with the exterior. Dark green with a high shine, no matter what the weather, Stella is always glimmering. The top is a light brown saddle color that retracts to open up to the outside. This is by far my favorite feature of the car. As a fan of the outdoors, riding around in the summer with the top down is always one of those little things I look forward to throughout the year. Stella is definitely a summer car.

       The interior of the car is made in standard Ford Mustang fashion: 150 horsepower engine, leather seats, two-door, four-seat, black dashboard, brown console and brown foot rugs. However, Stella is like my second room. Everyone’s rooms are personalized to fit who they are and what they like. The same can be said for Stella; the items I have in my car help to add some personality.

       One advantage of having one car for nearly six years is the amount of memorable things that I rediscover within the two doors. This is what I find in my car... 

       On the driver’s side, I see sunflower seeds next to the right hip between the seat belt and middle console. A full, warm, year-old water bottle sits right next to the seeds. Hanging on my mirror are a variety of items from events of my past. There is an elastic eye patch from our pirate-themed homecoming junior year; a headband I wore during state tennis my sophomore year; a scented necklace made out of Lebanese cedar trees  that my Grandma brought back for me two summers ago; a miniature Star Wars action figure hanging from the eye patch; a stretchy giraffe pinned between the mirror and windshield; and at least six scented car fresheners that have accumulated over the years and needless to say do not serve any purpose anymore. 

       The floor of the passenger seat is surprising clean, probably because I throw any trash or clothes immediately into the back seats, where I now look. On these pair of seats, I find a pair of sweatpants, three loose burnt CD’s, my CD case, the first season of Entourage (I was looking for that!), a bag of McDonald’s trash, my camera tripod, and twenty-two cents. On the floor, there is a collection of water bottles that has now probably reached the low twenties, some empty, some not. Obviously I don’t clean any of this out, because it would take away from Stella’s character.

       There is a space between the back seats and the trunk into which the top reclines that is consistently filled with water from a hole in the top. Fortunately, this rarely leaks into the trunk, which I usually keep tidy in order to fit everything I need. Here, I find a blanket, a towel, a sweatshirt, a giant bag of assorted candy, a pair of socks, my tennis shoes, my tennis bag, my golf bag, my golf shoes, four loose tennis balls, a lug wrench, a jack, and underneath the carpet and cardboard, a spare tire. At this point, you’re probably thinking, “Now Brandon, Mustangs are not that big. How in the world do you fit all of that in your trunk?” Well, curious young readers, if you’ve ever played a game of Tetris, it goes a bit like that; everything must go in a certain place for it all to fit. And because I never know when I’ll be playing golf or tennis or changing a tire or just have a craving for some delicious candy, it all must fit. 

       Every person and his/her car have a relationship. Some, like newlyweds, are excited about the adventures ahead and interested to see what more there is to learn. Others, like seventy-years-married-still-in-love old couples, have a hard time parting with their first true car love. Even others, like the disgruntled middle-aged couple who got married too soon, just want out and are tired of the same old ride over and over again. Stella and me? Well, after six years, I can truly say I am still happy with my first car. We’re like those high school sweethearts that actually worked out. I am leaving for Italy in January and won’t be back until May. It’ll be a record time away from my car. In the meantime, there is a definite possibility my mom will discover that sweet feeling when she rides with the top down on a warm, sunny day, and I’ll come back and discover Stella’s been renamed Francisco and is now in her possession full-time. It’d take me awhile to bring Stella back to her old self, but as we saw from those old people in The Notebook, love will always bring you back, and we’d be reunited at last.

An Afternoon with Ruben: Part II (Meeting 6)

       I have two cousins that go to TCU and every Friday, we and a few other friends from home meet up and talk and eat dinner. This Friday, we were going to Fusion, a hookah cafe, then to Fuzzy’s for dinner and I decided to invite Ruben along because we wouldn’t be able to meet the week of Thanksgiving and because my cousin always talked about how she spoke Spanish really well and I wanted to give her the ultimate test. While waiting for my cousin to arrive, I got to learn more about Ruben’s Venezuelan friends, Jane and Lina. Lina is nineteen years old and is in the highest level of English that the ESL program offers, therefore the closest to fluency. I had noticed that whenever Ruben or Jane were explaining something and couldn’t think of the right words to say, they would turn to Lina and say something in Spanish, then Lina would come out with the word they wanted. Jane is twenty-seven years old and was a journalist in Venezuela. However, she explained, Hugo Chavez was not fond of journalists because of the way he was represented in the media and therefore journalism work was hard to find for June in Venezuela. Therefore, she moved to America and is planning to continue journalism here until she finds the right opportunity to return. She has been married for one year (and wears her ring on her right hand, as they do in Venezuela), but does not have any children yet, although she plans to soon. I also found out she is a Spanish conversation partner, helping someone with their Spanish like I help Ruben with his English, and this someone is Mr. David Belpedio, who may or may not ever read this blog.

       Once my cousin arrived, the Spanish began. Even though she had been out of practice for a semester, my cousin definitely held her own and Ruben later told me he was extremely impressed with her Spanish. As a side note, however, the three South Americans had to slow down when they talked by at least three times the speed they would normally talk. But talking to my cousin Julia after, it was amazing not only how much the language came back to her talking to native speakers, but also how excited she got about it again, asking me to help her set up a Spanish conversation partner like Mr. Belpedio has.

       We then went to Fuzzy’s, which none of the three had been to before. Standing in line, they all asked me what they should get and I suggested the baja tacos or burritos. We had a good five minute conversation about how “chips and queso” was not the restaurant trying to be authentic but that most Americans called the hot, cheesy dip “queso,” even though in Spanish that encompasses all cheese. They also laughed at the appetizer “borrachio” beans, which in Spanish means drunk. We had a delicious meal and then Ruben drove me back home. During the car ride, we got stuck at a light for about four minutes, in which time he explained to me every Columbian would have ran it by then. He said nobody obeys the traffic laws there, and that, for example, if someone got pulled over drunk, but offered the police officer a bribe, he could get off scot-free. After seeing the traffic in Mexico, I was not surprised that this kind of corruption existed in Columbia, but it is still crazy to think how different American culture must be to them compared to a culture in which bribing a police officer is a regular occurrence. After a good four hours with my Columbian conversation partner and his Venezuelan friends, I felt that I had learned an amazing amount more about these people and their cultures and hopefully they were able to come out feeling more confident about their English skills.

An Afternoon with Ruben: Part I (Meeting 5)

       I met with Ruben for the fifth time on Friday and with him were his two friends from Venezuela, Lina and June. We met at Barnes and Noble again, which has become the regular now. I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so I brought along a Potbelly’s sandwich. He asked what was in it and I told him ham, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, mayonnaise and jalepenos. To my surprise, at the thought of eating jalepenos, Ruben cringed and explained to me how much he hates hot food. I had just assumed that any person from Mexico or South America would be a fan of salsa or any of its counterparts.

       I then asked him what kind of food he would usually eat in Columbia and he told me that they ate a variety of everything, just like us. He said he would have burgers, hot dogs, pasta, pizza, and of course, quesadillas and tacos. One food he said that might be considered a Columbian specialty was an arepa, which is like a thick pancake with butter and other spices on top.

       We then talked about each other’s plans for Thanksgiving. He said that he is meeting up with his aunt and grandma, who both live in the area and just spending time with family for the weekend. He asked why we had a holiday called Thanksgiving, and I told him the whole story about the Pilgrims and Indians, but that the main reason is to step back and realize what is important in your life and to give thanks for those particular things. While the holiday itself is not globally honored, being able to give thanks for the blessings in one’s life is a universal quality that Ruben and everyone can appreciate.

       From there, Ruben asked me if I knew of any good bars around the area. I told him that I knew of Old Rips and Rock Bottom, but that I didn’t know if they were any good because I was only nineteen. He thought for a second and then remembered that the drinking age here was twenty-one, compared to eighteen in his home country. He told me that he thinks America is extremely uptight about the drinking age laws and that he believes it should be switched to eighteen here as well. I told him I agree. While I can understand why the drinking age is twenty-one, I still agree with my eighty-seven year old grandpa that if someone can fight, defend, and die for his/her country, then he or she should be able to have a beer. Ruben told me that while the drinking age is eighteen, most Columbians begin younger. For example, Ruben began drinking when he was fourteen. Based on our societal norms, this sounds disastrous and sad. Generally, underage drinking is associated with troublemakers, bound for a future not as good as what could have been. However, when I look at Ruben now, he is an incredibly nice guy, has a solid job, a degree in engineering--basically, he seems to have a great life. It is interesting to see the perceptions of other cultures about certain subjects that America takes extremely seriously.

Convo Partner Meeting #4: Friday, 11/11

       Ruben and I are really starting to get to know each other at this point and I can actually see many improvements in his English. One thing specifically that he has asked about every time we have met is English tenses and how well he uses them correctly when he is talking to me. In our first meeting, some sentences he would say would be similar to, “I graduate in May 2009,” and even though I knew what he was saying, the tense on the verb would be incorrect. Now however, he is even using conjunctions with his tenses, such as won’t, couldn’t, and can’t. It is just interesting to watch as someone moves closer and closer to fluency in a language.

       I asked him what he was doing this weekend and he said he was going to mostly relax and maybe take his sister to “the cinema” to see Paranormal Activity 3. He then asked me what I was doing and I told him that my fraternity was having a party that I might go to. For some reason, it did not even cross my mind that Ruben wouldn’t know what a fraternity was. When explaining fraternities to someone who has never heard of them, it is difficult to describe without getting some weird looks and a lot of questions. “A brotherhood of men that share many of the same ideals who are bound together by the sacred bonds of ritual.” Ruben really didn’t know what to think when I told him about it. I was laughing. It really did sound sketchy and weird. And to top it off, our name was made up of Greek letters, which Ruben had no knowledge of. I think right when I told him, he believed I was part of some secret cult on TCU’s campus. But after I explained the various things we do around campus and how many students at TCU join fraternities and sororities, he began to grasp what being in a fraternity entails. He told me that at Columbian universities, there is nothing like this and most stress is put on the academics, although he didn’t seem completely against the idea of fraternities (after he knew they weren’t cults).

       Overall though, I find it riveting to explain parts of American culture that Ruben does not know about yet because he is learning about our country and able to compare it back to the country he knows best. Vice versa, it is always fascinating to learn about other countries, like Columbia, because it allows us to view our lives from a different perspective than that which we’ve always known and grown up with.