the campaign of all campaigns

People who don’t know me well may not understand how aware I am of the critical issues that define our lives and shape our futures. While the war in Iraq, the current healthcare system, and the economy are all important issues, I am more concerned with the issues that live on in apartment 17 of the Brittany apartments. That is why I have decided to get down in the trenches to work at these problems and that is why I have followed the example of my older sister in running for favorite roommate in 2008.

You may wonder how I could possibly do this. It’s not easy. It’s not easy. And I couldn’t do it if I didn’t passionately believe it was the right thing to do. You know, I have so many opportunities from this apartment, I just don’t want to see us fall backwards. You know, this is very personal for me, it’s not just political it’s not just public, I see what’s happening. And we have to reverse it. And some people think that elections are a game and think that it’s about who’s up and who’s down, it’s about our apartment, it’s about our dating life, and it’s really about all of us together. Some of us put ourselves out there and do this against some pretty difficult odds, and we do it, each one of us, because we care about our apartment. But some of us are right and some of us are wrong, and some of us are ready and some of us are not, and some of us have thought about what we will do the first day and some of us haven’t thought that through enough. When we look at the array of problems we have, and the potential for spinning out of control, this is one of the most important elections our apartment has ever really faced. I just believe so strongly at who we are as an apartment so I’m going to do everything I can to make my case then the voters get to decide.

The Brittany apartments are broken! I have spent the last five years working in the private sector and I have fixed everything. When my roommate would sing incessantly, I put a stop to it. When there was a fight amongst roommates, I stood in the middle and worked it out. I can do this! I can fix the broken Brittany apartments!

Now what we need to ask ourselves is what kind of change we want to make. Now everyone will make a change, a change for the bad is still a change. So what we need to decide is who will make a good change. The change of all changes. The mother of all changes, if you will.

My ancestors were born without a shirt on their backs so I should be elected. It’s not about having a liberal apartment or a conservative apartment, we are one apartment. It’s not about having a clean apartment or a dirty apartment, we are still one apartment! And I had a dream about it one time!

So, if you really know what’s good for you, you will vote for Tadd, Favorite Rooommate in 2008!

making a list

It may be a little too late to be making New Year’s resolutions but a good friend of mine gave me a good idea of what I can do with all of my newly discovered free time. You see, time was commodity I’ve never had enough of, but with my new school schedule, I have realized that I have more free time than I thought. My friend stopped by the other day and told me that one of her friends makes a list on her birthday of things that she’s going to accomplish before her next birthday. Her list consists of one thing for each year she’s been alive and I’ve decided to try it out this year and see what comes out of it. This being my twenty-third year, I’m trying to make a list of twenty-three things to do but I’ve only managed to think of fifteen. Some of the things on my list are big things like visiting Washington D.C. and running a half marathon. Most of the list, however, are little things such as solving a rubrics cube or watching the Lord of the Rings (which I have never seen). Anyways, the reason why I’m blogging about this is to reach out into my vast blog readership of three people and suck all of the good ideas that you may have. I understand that this invitation to all of you leaves me open for snide, sarcastic and sardonic remarks about getting married, getting a life, or picking a “real” major but it’s a risk that I’m willing to take. Besides, any joke regarding those subjects has probably been used and overused on my older brother and has therefore unwound all threads of humor. Anyways, happy blogging!

stuck in the middle with who?

My truck is prehistoric. I’ve dated girls who are younger than it. It’s been in the family since its birth which I have no recollection about. As far as my memory extends, it has always been old. Lately, my truck and I haven’t gotten along so well but it’s not because it’s old. Last week my truck added some new sounds to its operation without my permission and I’m kind of upset about it. Whenever I start her up (yes, it’s a “her”), it sounds as if a three-year-old is playing wac-a-mole on my engine block, and I’ve never liked that game.

The strained relationship between me and my truck is shared as I haven’t been the most careful operator. I added a new feature to my truck that will in no way improve its sales value unless I’m selling it to a demo derby driver. The feature I added comes with a story that might offer some philosopher an experience to overanalyze.

A few weeks ago, one of my good friends accompanied me to birthday party for two of our mutual friends. After the party was over (which occurred surprisingly at the same time as our departure), I took my friend and dropped her off in the parking lot of her apartment complex (I wasn’t in the mood to be a gentleman). It had snowed earlier that day and the cold night turned the snow and water in the paring lot into a ghetto ice skating rink. Between the parking lot and the street was a driveway which could also double as a halfpipe for skateboarders, and this too was covered in ice. I reversed my truck into an empty parking stall so I could go down the halfpipe-like ramp headfirst. As I started to go down the ramp, my truck slid until I was perpendicular to the walls on both sides of the ramp, and I started going down the ramp sideways. I got stuck in the sideways position about halfway down the ramp and responded to my precarious situation with a fit of laughter. I had done it now!

I didn’t want to be the only one to enjoy this experience so I called the girl I had just dropped off and asked her to come out and “help” me (all I wanted her to do was be a witness of my stupidity). I quickly surveyed the situation and discovered that I would have to use my bumpers for what the were designed for: bumping. With only six inches from the back and front bumper to the wall, I didn’t have a lot of room to work with. I stepped on the gas and went forward until I bumped the wall in front, then I rolled the truck back until I hit the wall (which happened to be a building) behind me. I continued this pattern until I was able to complete my twenty-three-point turn and get enough angle to finally straighten out. After messing up my rear bumper and leaving a racing stripe on the building, I finally got out of my situation.

This experience has given me something to think about. In some ways, I have felt like I have metaphorically been in a similar situation as my truck over the past few months. I have been unable to go forward with life without getting bruised and unable to reverse without suffering the same affliction. Because of this, I was content to stay put until I was forced to go one way or the other. Well, for me the time has come and I’ve got to move. And it won’t be without some pain but I will be better for it.

I went through the car wash yesterday so my truck and I are on better terms. But if you know of a demo derby driver who’s looking for a new ride, I’m willing to make a deal.