It has revolutionized the way that I use information. It’s called Evernote. It’s free. And it places all of the internet under your command.
I've already got some great songs queued up to listen to the next time I'm looking for something new!
Have you ever been going through your favorite radio on Pandora and realized that you really like the song that is playing? Nine times out of ten you’ll probably forget to write it down, and then you’ll move onto another song and forget about the first forever. Then, when you’re on Spotify, you can’t think of any good new music to listen to! The way Evernote avoids this issue is that it allows you to save every bit of information that you want to remember and localizes it into one place.
You can save web pages, you can take screen shots, and you can put notes along with all of these. I have three key functions for it at the moment: research, music, and recipes. I often browse the internet for recipes, and instead of losing them forever in the virtual ether, now I can save them and always have them for reference. It’s a program I highly recommend! Plus if your phone has a high IQ (aka a smart phone) then you can sync that with Evernote to your computer.
Instructions: Play song, and then begin reading.
Do you like Afro-Cuban jazz? Well you absolutely should. On Wednesday, the Butler Jazz Combo put on a concert of Afro-Cuban music, featuring songs by the famous Tito Puente, one of the most important names in the field. This was all done in preparation for a concert on April 20th as part of the opening of the new Schrott Hall.
It was a perfect break from classes and work. Sitting in Lily Hall, I felt myself transported away by the screaming trumpets, the sassy drums, and the rockin’ piano. You could say that, after all of this, I was pretty jazzed up.
It was like a vacation from my problems. Even though the room wasn’t cold, I could feel the beach breeze blowing past me, the warm sunlight on my face, and the sand in my toes. This is the kind of music that should be used to get people through long winter months.
It was also a good reminder about all of the incredible things that Butler students are up to, and how, as long as I am aware of them, there won’t ever be a dull day on campus. I got to see some of my good friends show off their mad music skills, and did I mention how free it was?
I’ve been called many names in my day, but “buff” or “jacked” have not come up often (or at least not in a tone). Thankfully, the HRC has provided a program to help me change this.
It’s called Sweat to Spring Break. You choose a location, and the number of miles that it is distant from Indianapolis, the number of minutes you must spend in the gym. I have selected a city in South Carolina. The self-competition started at the beginning of the semester and will end when Spring Break starts. That’s nearly a week away.
So I’ve fallen behind. Apparently, in order to succeed in this competition, one needs to be “consistent” and “dedicated.” Pshaw. This has been a busy semester. Why do I have to defend myself? I don’t need to put up with this interrogation! It’s still possible, I just have to buckle down for the next week. With a free T-shirt at stake, I can probably accomplish anything.
My foot slurping into a puddle is not a satisfying sensation. In fact, it’s downright dreadful (it should be known that wet socks are as annoying as loud chewers or people who take phone calls in the library). As I walked through downtown Chicago the day after a snowstorm, the purpose of galoshes became very clear.
I was in Chicago last Friday for my interview with the JET program. It was a one-day affair fueled by granola bars and made possible through the wonderful vehicles of Megabus.
Getting onto the Megabus was spectacular. A double-decker bus always means business. Not to mention the Wi-Fi (incredibly slow, but still). There were even outlets for individual seats. I felt like I was riding first class, bus style.
The interview went very well, but I mainly say that because I have to wait two months to hear the results, and I don’t have the emotional energy to worry about it for that amount of time. So for the next two months, you won’t hear a word about it from me. You’ll know when I get the news, because I’ll either be rejoicing in the streets or moping for a solid week.
It’s easy to go through a day thinking nothing new, doing nothing new. This video breaks through the walls that routine constructs and offers a new perspective of the ordinary. Do yourself a favor and watch the first five minutes of this video. I guarantee that’s all it will take to convince you to watch the rest.
Sky Zone! Where dreams come to soar, where the inner Spiderman is drawn out of all of us, and where people go to jump, induce nausea, and injure themselves trying that new daring trick that would have made them look so fly (pun mildly intended).
It was a free trip to one of the coolest places in Indianapolis. After an excitement filled bus ride during which my friends and I formed one of the world’s greatest dodge ball teams (Carmel Cavaliers HOOOOO!!!!) and getting lost around Fishers, we arrived. At this point we learned that we would be jumping without shoes OR socks (ewwww, some said) I forged ahead undaunted! I quickly learned that I wasn’t very good at dodge ball, was the world champion of trampoline long jump, and that there is little more disgusting than going to a public bathroom without footwear.
The night ended with free pizza and drinks. It’s important to rehydrate after all of that jumping (that’s why I had three cups of Dr. Pepper). I also got a free sweat band, which at this point may be more sweat than band. If you’re looking for a fun way to burn some calories and work on your trampoline dunking (that’s right, I did an alley-oop on a ten foot rim) then check out Sky Zone!
I’m not someone driven to thoughts of vengeance often, but when I learn that fellow blogger and student Bekah ate dinner with Chuck Klosterman while I was home cooking up mac and cheese and bantering with my utensils, I start asking a few questions.
Just look at that face! Devious.
1) What does Bekah have that I don’t have?
2) Why is the universe toying with me?
3) Sure I had class all afternoon, but I couldn’t I have at least been asked?
4) Did I ask for the wonderful works of Klosterman to appear suddenly in my life, followed quickly by his visit to campus and the possibility of meeting him, and then in a ironic (I daresay maniacal) twist of fate miss that very opportunity?
5) I’m not making a big deal out of this, am I?
While the answers to these questions are most likely 1) Plenty 2) No 3) Yes 4) No 5) Yes, I’ll continue under the assumption that those questions are rhetorical, and that I am correctly justified in my outrage.
This isn’t to say that life would have been better had I been given the opportunity to eat with him. I probably would have informed everyone I know my of my luck, and then thrown it in the face of our waiter or waitress that I was in fact eating with Chuck Klosterman, and then thrown it in Chuck Klosterman’s face that I was eating with Chuck Klosterman, and then laughed that he’d never have the same opportunity, and then complained to the manager that Chuck Klosterman’s table deserved better service, a round of applause from the entire restaurant, and maybe a tiger jumping through fiery hoops.
Because I haven’t heard anything to the contrary, Bekah probably acted more appropriately. For that I tip my hat.
There’s a point in everyone’s life where they are watching a sports movie, and the clock is running down and they make the final point or goal or basket necessary to win the game. At this point usually you’ll roll your eyes and think, well this is absolutely ridiculous. That would never happen in real life. Right?
That’s what I keep thinking, but the Butler Basketball Program has succeeded three times in proving that this sort of thing isn’t only possible once every fifty years, but three times in the same season.
After watching Butler basketball excel in Hawaii, against IU, and now against Gonzaga, I find myself giddy at the thought of what March may hold. At the same time, I’m nervous. Have we ever gone into a tournament with this much energy, this much momentum? The Butler way seems to be as an underdog. Speaking of which, Trip is soon to replace Blue II. This may just be the end of an era.
I get back from class and I am exhausted. The last thing I want to do is stare at more words, and exercise my brain after the three hours of mind-numbing lecture I just went through. What to do? Nap? I’m trying to break the habit. Eat? I just ate lunch. And then I knew what had to be done.
Whip up some homemade bread, that’s what. Retrieving my copy of Marcella Hazan’s “Essentials of Italian Cooking” I found the recipe for Foccaccia, a traditional type of bread. So, in a break between classes I was kneading flour, yeast, water, and a touch of olive oil into a ball. I let it rise while I was in class, and when I returned it was ready to throw in the oven.
The bread was pretty tasty in my opinioin, and it will supply some great sandwich bread for the next week, but more than anything it was a wonderful catharsis. For a few minutes I could take my mind of the responsibilities of my final semester at Butler University and slap a wad of dough against a table (it’s part of the kneading process, fer serial).