A serious paper?!? OMFG WTFLOL!!!111!!

American = x; Solve.

Being an American could quite possibly be one of the greatest privileges in the world. Being an American could quite possibly also make you an asshole in the eyes of the rest of the free world. On one side of the spectrum, the United States of America is hands-down the most powerful nation on Earth. The American people are fortunate to have many freedoms given to us in our nation’s most important document, The Constitution of the United States. On the other hand, the power and freedom given to us is all-too-often wielded recklessly or without grounds. For this reason, many people outside of our country—and some of our own, for that matter—have a very bad taste in their mouth when it comes to the good ol’ US of A.

When asked to explain what it means to be an American, it is all relative to one’s own personal perspective. A person’s perspective on the subject is formed from a plethora of different variables. Much of it has to do with a person’s race and religion. Other important factors include where and how they were raised and who raised them. If I was to ask a middle-aged, white American war veteran, he or she might say being an American means freedom and liberty for all. Now if I were to ask a Frenchman the same question, I’d be sure to hear a very different spin. Studies have shown that in other countries, the US is significantly less popular than Germany, China, France, and Japan (Pew Research Center no pgs).

Placing a certain set of characteristics on an entire mass of people is simply not fair to said group of people. Unless you’re living in Nazi Germany or a similar situation, you are not meant to fit a set of preconceived qualities. Perhaps this idea of not sharing many common qualities is the quintessence of being American. After all, this place was originally intended to be one of diverse people. Everyone has the right to exercise their own values system and be who they want to be as long as it’s within the law.

At the same time, exercising freedoms such as these is not exclusively American, either. You can’t expect to waltz into Germany or England and become enslaved and told to live by their system of morals and values. It’s just not feasible. This isn’t to say that all countries do have freedom, either. There are many places throughout the world that, for one reason or another, have not caught up to the civilized world and hold their archaic ideas of life to be the best. It may be out of respect for their ancestors’ culture or maybe a fear of change. Either way, they’re living in the past and it is bound to cause their people many difficulties.

Within our own country and amongst our own people, some have developed a strong feeling of distaste for the government. Many of these are well-founded opinions held by people who oppose the way our government has been functioning in recent years. That isn’t to say that they dislike democracy, but they do dislike the things those elected do once they are given power or perhaps how they are elected in the first place. One man I know refers to the US as "The United Empire of America." At the same time, many of these opinions are ignorant ideas picked up from God-knows-where and have no true grounds. They heard it on TV or from their equally ignorant friends. Differing opinions on the war in Iraq is a prime example of a divided view of the United States amongst our own citizens. Some people say we shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Others say we should have and should stay. Many are saying that we "cannot abandon 27 million Iraqis to 10,000 terrorists." (Lieberman, no pgs)

America is known as a place of wide diversity and has been since it was founded. Is it fair to say that all Americans appreciate this idea of diversity? Probably about as fair as it is to say that all Americans are rude and obese, which is the conception of our nation that has been adopted by many foreigners.

"America is experiencing an obesity epidemic. In 1999, sixty-one percent of Americans were overweight and twenty-six percent were obese."(qtd in Why Do People Hate America? no pgs)

I just don’t see it as fair to place these specific labels on a broad range of people. Our constitution says that all men are created equal, but how many people actually give two shits about that? I guarantee you it doesn’t apply to all Americans. Perhaps not even most. Speaking bluntly and honestly, what are the odds of a black man being elected president? Or even a woman? The odds are most definitely against it because rich white guys are running the show. Place the shoddiest rich white candidate up against a much more qualified black candidate and see who gets the votes. But all men are created equal, right? Diversity, right? That’s the American way!

Why is it so easy for these rich white guys to take control of the government? Studies show that most Americans don’t believe that their voice or their vote counts. People need to take charge of their government and have the intelligence and the gumption to question authority. The American people have the power, but by not examining a situation and not questioning authority, they allow that power to be taken away from them. In fact, they’re taking it from themselves in the worst way possible: negligence. One must think about a situation, decide what’s right and what’s wrong and actually do something about it. When asked about for his opinion on the subject, my friend Jeff said, "Most of the people in this country are hideously stupid."

So, what does it mean to be an American? I can’t really tell you that. You tell me. Think about everything that America has done for you, good or bad, and form your own idea from it. No one should be allowed to tell you what it is or isn’t American. It’s not fair to you, it’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to the other 300 million people in this country. Making your own decision on the subject is what really counts. After all, America is a place that was meant to be based on diversity and the tolerance of that diversity. Diverse opinions are needed for this society to function in a healthy way. Perhaps, that’s what it means to be an American to me. I only wish everyone could embrace the idea.

Some of you may believe I have lost my mind. I am not here to defend myself. You're absolutely right. I guess what I'm really trying to say is, shaving with razor wire instead of a razor blade just isn't very efficient, though it can make you look TUFF.

Good Morning, America

Ever wonder what my mornings are like? Sure you do! I’m sure everyone asks themself that question at some point or another. Well, today is your lucky day because I’m here to tell you exactly what happened this morning. It was a perfect example of such things that happen in my daily life. Please keep in mind that some of what you hear may shock or offend you.

My morning began as it usually does with the marching band consisting of all the members of the Senate and House of Representatives coming into my room to play me a tune in place of an alarm clock. What better way is there to start a day than by being awakened by the men and women of the United States Congress? They had been doing this for me since before I could remember. Every time I wake up I look at them and say, "Good morning, America." We all get a laugh.

After they finished playing their rendition of Beethoven’s 9^th Symphony, I applauded their efforts and dismissed them to go about their law-making and cheese sandwich-making (little known fact: Congress is made up of some of the finest cheese sandwich-makers in the world. They own a small chain of restaurants called Subway).

So, after my lovely band experience was complete I headed to the lavatory to partake in my morning shower. My shower was hand-crafted from pure gold for me by a guy from India called Ghandi. It is probably the finest shower ever created by man (intergalactic showers should not be allowed to compete with our’s anyway). I began my shower with water that is heated to exactly 98.2 degrees Fahrenheit to match my own body temperature (obviously, being a bit different from your average everyday cat, my body temperature is lower than most humans by four-tenths of a degree). My assistant, an Indonesian Mountain Weasel named Frank, helped me wash my hair as he does every morning. I truly don’t know what I’d do without my small weasely friend Frank.

I completed my shower at exactly 6:54:03 a.m. This presented me with a great deal of distress. I was 14 seconds later than yesterday. It was Frank’s fault, and so I banished him to 3 lashings from the cat of nine tails before dinner this evening. But that is neither here nor there.

It was time to get dressed. For this task I need no help. I knew exactly what I wanted to wear today. One of my outfits is crafted from the reeds that grow along the Nile river in Egypt and was taken from the crypt of Tutankhamen. My good friend president Hosni Mubarak of Egypt gave it to me as a gift a few years ago. I didn’t really like it but didn’t have the heart to tell him. Today was definitely not a day for that outfit. No, instead I donned my tuxedo made of the finest Chinese silk money can buy and my original series piano key neck tie. You just have to respect a man in a piano key neck tie.

Finally, it was time for breakfast, one of my favorite parts of the day. It is the most important meal, after all. I descended down the 18 flights of stairs to the kitchen on the wings of a griffin. You may have heard of these creatures in myths. They are real, and they live in my home. Emeril Lagasse was in the kitchen blurting out his exclamations of happiness as always. "BAM!" That one is my favorite. He was making my favorite dish: 37 and a half quesadillas drowned in turkey gravy. I devoured the delectable meal quicker than you can say "I devoured the delectable meal."

Now it was time to head off to school. It was tough deciding whether to take my 1978 Ford Pinto or my 2004 Lamborghini Diablo. I made the choice any sane person would make; I took the Pinto.

So I took off down the road doing a whopping 38 mph. It was a new record. Unfortunately, I was rear-ended by a 1981 Ford Escort and my vehicle burst into flames. I luckily escaped the burning wreckage and made it to school by way of jet pack. Arriving at school at 7:58 am, I had made it just in time for my first class entitled "The Difficulty of Breathing on Mars and Other Planets in the Solar System (excluding Neptune)."

Well, now you can say you’ve experienced a bit of what I go through every morning of my life. It sure as hell ain’t glamorous, but I manage. I wouldn’t wish all of this on any of you and I hope you never have to hear such a twisted tale of poverty and desolation ever again.

Home, Sweet Home

I truly cannot express to you in words the joy and nostalgia I begin to feel looking back on that memorable event. It was the defining moment of my life, the very pinnacle of my happiness. Not many people I know can look at themselves and say they accomplished such a feat as this. It is not a task easily completed by the faint of heart. It took a great a deal of planning. It took a great deal of love. Mostly, though, it took a lot of sugar and cream cheese. Of course, I’m speaking of that beautiful spring season when I built a home entirely out of cheesecake.

You may be thinking, "Austin, are you crazy? What kind of person builds a home out of cheesecake?!" Well, there are no easy answers to your inquiries. But, to be perfectly honest, yes, I am crazy. Crazy for cheesecake. The reaction you’re experiencing is one of sheer jealously. It’s completely understandable. I can see why you wish you thought of it first. The plan is an ingenious one. Whenever you feel hungry, you can just look around and say, "Oh, gee, this window sill looks tasty!" or, "Boy, would I like a bite of that fireplace mantle!" And when that piece of furniture tastes a little like heaven, you realize how great of an idea it truly is. Next time you’re hungry, try to taste your window sill and try to tell me you don’t wish it tasted like cheesecake. You do.

My plan was simple: hire the finest cheesecake construction guild in the world and have at it! Much to my dismay, I discovered that there were no cheesecake construction guilds in my area. Not even Google could turn up a local result for me. It was then that I realized this would be tougher than I had previously deduced. I decided it may be a good idea to come up with some figures for what I would need to construct my glorious house of delightfully tasty sensations. It turned out I needed about three million tablespoons of sugar, a million cups of graham cracker crumbs, three and a half million tablespoons of melted butter, one million packages of Philadelphia Cream Cheese, three and a quarter million cups of fruit juice, and 24 million ounces of Cool-Whip®.

I commenced venturing out on the largest spree of supermarket heists in history. You may have heard about it on the news. That was me getting supplies for the construction of my beautiful home. Trust me, it wasn’t easy trying to walk out of a place with three million tablespoons of sugar. In the end, though, I obtained all my supplies and it was time to begin construction of this monumental piece of architectural splendor.

I hired many workers to help me complete my project. They all had green cards. Don’t question my integrity. We went to work one March morning and completed the illustrious structure in April. The construction was perilous. We lost many good men to accidents involving the giant strawberries we placed on the roof or suffocation in the cheesy mixture. Some of the bodies were never found.

The final product was amazing. There were walls, doors, windows, couches, dishwashers, toilets....all made of delightfully delicious cheesecake! The roof was constructed of a graham cracker crumb crust. Hoisting it upon the roof was quite an adventure and also attributed to the loss of good men’s lives.

The first few months of living there were difficult. Many a time I caught my conniving, devious Native American neighbor, Jedd Pickens, trying to take bites from my garage or my exotic bird bath. "I think not, Mr. Pickens!" I would exclaim, "My home is not for your dining pleasure! It is for living!" Always he would scurry away back to his home, but he always came back to gnaw away at my domicile.

I was once asked to donate my cheesecake dwelling to the underprivileged of the world who needed food. It was, after all, thousands of tons of cheesecake that I was living inside. The thought crossed my mind many times, but then I realized it was all a government ploy to cover up my amazing project. They wanted to sully my creation. Not on my watch, Uncle Sam!

And then it began. I felt the sensation deep within myself and could not control it. What was it? Gas pain? Colon cancer?! NO! It was the deep urge to consume my creation. I wanted that shelter of cheesecake in my belly and I wanted it there now. All of its delicious features were gnawing away at my stomach and my self-control: the delectable television, the oh-so-palatable love seat, even the mouth-watering, savory toilet!

I couldn’t take it anymore. I began to consume my home from the inside-out. The television went first. Hell, it didn’t function anyway. Why did I even make a cheesecake television? Next went my collection of life-size models of NASCARs. Why did I have cheesecake NASCAR models?! After that I ate my entire library of ancient texts. Cheesecake books?!

After I finished ingesting the interior of my home, I commenced devouring the walls, doors, windows, garage doors, pets, plants, vehicles, anything I could find. I ate for days, weeks, even months. Finally, I got very, very sick. I didn’t understand it. How could I be sick? And that doctor, he just looked at me and said in that somber, serious way that doctors do, "Maybe it’s because you ate a home made entirely of cheesecake."

I let the words sink in. It was almost too much to take, but I knew he was right. I did eat an entire cheesecake habitat. And now I had to pay for what I had done. Looking back, this story really isn’t as happy as I thought.

Hello everyone,

I've returned. As you may have noticed, all my previous posts are gone. They have not been deleted, but they are set on private so only I can reminisce on my memories. The reason for this happening is that I have decided to begin posting random writings of mine, mainly ones written for my College Writing class at school. It's more or less for me to look back on and see my writing as it progresses throughout the year, and hopefully you'll enjoy reading my papers as well.

So, enjoy.

-Austin