Doing Christmas the German way.

What to expect on Christmas: family, food, alcohol and tradition.

Now times that by 10 and you will have what you should expect on a German Christmas. 

This includes: cousins I have never met, sour meat, another shot of schnapps I didn't need - followed by midnight mass.

Let's start with the family. Every year my father, the German enforcer, convinces us that instead of staying home and relaxing we should find some kind of German community to celebrate with.

Sometimes we can get away with making a weekend trip to the Turn Verein (the German stronghold of downtown Sacramento, located at 3349 J Street). 

Each year, shortly after Thanksgiving, the Turn Verein holds a two-day Christkindlmarkt, which is basically just a party with German performers, German food, German drinks and many booths selling German things. Shocking, I know.

Other times, like last Christmas, the Turn Verein wasn't enough for the pops. So he decided Munich was the place to be. Although it may sound like he dragged the family to Europe, I was on his side in the argument to travel abroad for the holidays. Any traveling to a new place is okay by me.

Nonetheless, after the trip to Germany I was exhausted and wished that I had stayed home for winter break to catch up on some much needed sleep and relaxation. Also, I semi-regretted that I was unable to see any of my close friends, who came home from school for the holidays. Instead I met a ton of new people and by people I mean relatives that I didn't know existed.

The food and alcohol involved in Christmas festivities can be grouped together, because much of the cooking requires alcohol as an ingredient according to my German relatives. And if alcohol isn't in the instructions then drinking alcohol while cooking is definitely in order, they assured me.

My favorite part about the Germans is that they use the excuse "it's good for digestion" after every shot of schnapps. The problem being, that they take a shot after every bite. A problem or a gift? That's yet to be decided. 

From weisswurst and sauerbraten to slivovitz and radler, whether it's in Munich or at the Turn Verein, the amount of meat and alcohol consumed at any German Christmas is just about more than I can handle.

I remember one Christmas in particular we flew to Chibougamau, Canada to celebrate with some German relatives. At dinner, my grandma's sister, who has Alzheimer's, grabbed my arm, begin swinging side-to-side - singing a German drinking song and refusing to quit until the entire table had it memorized.

She would then turn to me and say, "This is my first schnopps, right?" 

Her daughter across the table would quickly respond, "Grandma, that's your seventh."

"SEVENTH! Who let me have seven schnopps?!...Well I'd better have another," she'd say.

But what would a German Christmas be without tradition. Perhaps my favorite and the most useless tradition adopted by my family (which is not necessarily of German descent) is attending midnight mass every Christmas Eve. 

After a dinner full of meat and alcohol (as mentioned above), my family thinks the perfect way to top off a night is to fill a pew at the nearest Catholic church...and take a nap.

At first I protested the midnight mass tradition because I didn't understand why one night was worthy of church service when we didn't attend any other night of the year - but then I realized my family's real motive. Whether they'd like to admit it or not, every time we sit down for the midnight mass, my entire family passes out (some even snore).

I know you expected for the tradition to be of Christmas cheer and German derivations, but sometimes that's what make traditions so great - they're weird. And in fact, that's what makes Christmases so great - each family celebrates differently and with a different caliber of weird.

Like my family, who celebrates the German way, with unfamiliar Germans, German meat, German drinks and not so German traditions.

Rationalize the irrational.

Oh the joys of the holidays - a time of the year when everyone gets to be uncomfortably close with family and endure awkward, unwanted conversations daily.

It's a time when even the most disciplined realist falls victim to irrational behavior.

Exhibit A: Listening to a grandpa preach his religious beliefs on you, becoming increasingly frustrated when he refuses to listen to your side and yet still walk away giggling at his stubbornness - because he's your grandpa and unlike everyone else in the world, his old-time beliefs don't bother you too much.

Exhibit B: Agreeing to write a list of ten things you are thankful for - even though you strongly believe that actions speak louder than words and emotions should never be verbalized.

Here it goes.

1) Reliable, mature relationships - After 21 years of dropping dead weight, I finally feel like I have a solid group of close, meaningful friends and family. Some are old and some are new. The old relationships have shaped me into the persona I portray today, which is inevitably flawed, and the new relationships have constantly made me question the persona I portray today, which in turn fosters daily personal growth.

2) Parents - When I think about having children I realize how selfless a GOOD parent must be. The amount of opportunities my parents supplied me are endless. From financing to logic, my parents have fully-equipped me to successfully handle myself in the real world. I can not imagine being placed with some of the parents my best friend's had growing up - I was just happy that at the end my juvenile sleepovers I would get to go home to my parents, where I was the first priority and not an obligation.

3) Variety - I appreciate the evangelical bible-thumpers telling me I'm a whore on campus. I appreciate the car who almost hit me while I was walking to class. I appreciate the customer at my job who asked for ketchup with their lobster tail. Each one of us are unique in some way or another, with different motivations and different insights. Not only does this variety keep my life interesting but it enables me to learn something new about human nature regularly.

4) Curiosity - Every time I hear about an individual researching or discovering a new process or tidbit of information I am enthralled. It inspires me that people in the world are genuinely interested in their surroundings and not just walking through life with a certain air of indifference. If I've learned anything this year it's that indifference solves nothing.

5) Living situation - I live in a beautiful location on 40th Street downtown with my sister, 25. Let's just say a Taqueria and few bars are close by. Convenience paired with a reliable, tolerable roommate equates to a happy home.

6) The State Hornet - Although it is practically the death of me in regards to lack of sleep and insanity, without my job at the Hornet I would be missing the rapid development as a journalist I am now receiving. Not to mention the sense of belongingness working close to like-minded individuals builds.

7) Spontaneity - This is a value that was instilled in me at a young age and without it I would get lost in the "daily grind," especially considering my tendency to overload.

8) Knowledge - We live in a world where knowledge is easily accessible. I am glad that I will soon be able to supply valuable information to the public that will ultimately educate the masses. I look forward to continuing to learn something new everyday and becoming an expert on new subject matter daily.

9) Travel, other cultures - self explanatory.

10) Differing opinions - Controversy is healthy and develops discussion and contemplation that is necessary. More specifically, I only appreciate individuals who are able to intelligently express their opinion with a valid backing. Differing opinions like being too stubborn to actually list things I'm thankful for.

In the grand scheme of things, I guess irrationality every once in a while isn't so bad - especially when it creates a type of self-exploration like creating this list did for me.

Grim Reapers aren't all bad.

A television series based on a group of humanized grim reapers made me grin, smile and even chuckle a little bit.

Although the basis of the series revolves around people dying, I finished watching the first episode of Dead Like Me feeling content and even a little chipper.

Although the plot sounds grim (pun intended) the producers do a good job of portraying the grim reapers not as killers but as "people doing their job" and guiding the dying person's soul away from their body - thus the content, chipper emotions I was experiencing.

The humor used in the show is what really kept me interested. The interaction between all of the grim reapers is rooted in very dry sarcasm. But I suppose if you have to discuss death on a daily basis your humor is going to be a little off-kilter. (Still trying to figure out what my excuse is.)

Here's a visual representation of what I mean: all grim reapers meet at Der Waffle House every morning for breakfast, coffee, bitching and to receive a sticky note from the head grim reaper with a name, address and time of death on it.

If there is any way to make light of death it's by putting it on a sticky note and delivering it alongside french toast.

In particular, the main character, George, has the driest humor of them all.

She starts off the season with a monologue about the creation of time in which she states, "God, lowercase g, was getting busy with creation - as kids these days are saying."

Then she goes on to explain the history of death as a toad who was given an assignment by god to watch a jar full of "death." Then one day toad gave into frog's pleas to play with the jar of death and frog dropped the jar letting death loose to kill all living things. 

She ends the monologue with, "Yeah, frog is an asshole."

Maybe I am partial to George's personality because I can relate to her, but either way she's hilarious.

George is a blonde, 18-year-old girl who is perhaps a little bitter and indifferent, which is ironic since she holds a career at "Happy Time." A perfect depiction of George comes in the beginning of the episode when she said, "I excel at not giving a shit." Three minutes later, George dies.

After George dies she is picked up to work as a grim reaper. This means a few things, she is still alive in the flesh and able to be a part of society, but her face is distorted to look different than her original persona.

The biggest conflict in the first episode is rooted in George not knowing what to do with her life - she is at a stand-still after just quitting college and working a nine-to-five, deadbeat job. Then when she dies the rest of the episode continues in a similar fashion, except now she's trying to figure out what to do with her dead-life. 

Who would of though I'd be so enthralled with dead-lives? There's just a sense of irony to them that I can't get enough of.

Support local breweries? Don't mind if I do.

Most people frequent Rubicon Brewery because it is one of the few local breweries in the Sacramento area. The slogan on their website is, "Change your status from beer enthusiast to beer activist. Support your local brewery!"

No problem, Rubicon. I'm on it.

The inside of Rubicon seems cold and slightly unwelcoming at first glance, with only wood and metal paneling as decor. But as soon as a few of those micro-brewed beers are set in front of you, you're right at home. 

Although I have had lunch at Rubicon before, this time around was the first time I was of-age and able to enjoy a beer with my meal.

As I skimmed through the beer menu my eye fell on one particular brew: the Monkey Knife Fight. With a name like that, who's not going to try it?

The beer in no way reminded me of a monkey knife fight but that's neither here nor there. The american pale ale went down smoothly and tasted delicious on that rainy Sabbath. 

I may not be the best candidate for reviewing beer though, because I will stomach just about any beer. To me, beer is beer and beer is good - but I did appreciate that my beer was brewed locally and I was being an activist in drinking it. So kudos to me?

Perhaps my favorite part of Rubicon is that they deliver quality substance across the board. Their beer is brewed in house and their food selection isn't bad either.

Although my stomach and brain had a debacle in food choice that day, eventually I went with my brain and decided to try something new and unfamiliar - the chicken pesto sandwich. 

(In case you were wondering my stomach was yearning for the ever-so familiar fish and chips - that stuff always tastes the same to me, which is very fish-and-chip-like.)

Needless to say, I made the right decision. The sandwich was hearty, filling and had substance. The chicken inside the sandwich tasted like chicken. Wild, I know. What I mean by that is it tasted like the free-range organic chicken my parents barbeque at home, not the cardboard, dry chicken McDonalds frisbees to passerby cars.

On top of the juicy meat and crunchy sourdough roll, there was a pesto spread combined with a sun-dried tomatoes that made for a perfect neutral flavor. Topped with my all time favorite cheese, provolone. Perfection.

And luckily, I was able to achieve the level of comfort I would have with the fish and chips because my sandwich was paired with the ever-so-familiar waffle fries. Score.

In retrospect, I should have known I was going to enjoy my meal because when I ordered our waitress said, "That's so weird. I've been here all day and I haven't had a single table where at least one person hasn't ordered the chicken pesto sandwich."

So what? Apparently I'm a bandwagoner. Who cares, it was a phenomenal sandwich paired with a tasty beer in a plain, calm location.

Not a bad Sunday if you ask me.

Forget zombies, kids are taking over the world.

Children are a lot more evil and manipulative than we give them credit for; take Halloween for an example.

Somehow the youngsters throughout the world have banded together and managed to transform a celtic celebration into a holiday revolving solely around them.

"Mom make me a Cinderella costume!"

"No I don't want to be Bell anymore - that was last week!"

"You guys only have kit kats? (eye roll)"

But my favorite Halloween remark made by the kiddies to date happened this past weekend.

After a five-hour plane ride, I arrived back at my home in downtown Sacramento at 9 p.m. As I lugged my bags up my driveway three kids approached me.

"Trick or treat!"

My response?

"Uh, I don't live here." (Obviously lying, but come on kids I haven't even walked in my house yet.)

As they meander off, being bothersome throughout the neighborhood, I quickly unlock my door, jump inside my house and turn off my porch light.

Once I enter my house I see my sister curled up in the fetal position on the couch.

"Dude, I forgot to buy candy. They've been harassing our house all night," she giggled nervously.

A minute goes by...

Knock. Knock. Knock.

We sit, frozen in terror.

"TRICK OR TREAT!...Come on, it's Halloween!"

Another needy child chimes in.

"Seriously?! We said, 'TRICK or TREAT!,'" the kid whined. "FINE! WE'LL STEAL YOUR PORCH CHAIRS INSTEAD!"

So, somehow a celebration in honor of the dead has turned into munchins with sugar highs, which (apparently) results in angry retaliation?

One question. Where are the parents? I guess one day the parents just decided, "Welp, you're seven now. Off you go," and pushed them into the street without important warnings like, "Don't knock on doors with their porch lights off."

Not only is that dangerous for the little ones, but it is common courtesy. If a household wishes to provide children with their sugar fix they will have their porch light on and will more than likely have a jack-o-lantern on their doorstep. Two things of which I had neither.

Common sense people, let's use it.

Enough ranting, the bottom line is that the aggressive nature of trick-or-treaters this Halloween appalled me. When did children become so self-entitled?

In my trick-or-treating days, it was a good Halloween if I came home without pissing my pants - didn't matter to me whether I had kit kats or laffy taffy. 

But kids now days are relentless. Driving through the "Fab 40s" in downtown Sacramento was like playing frogger - but the kids were the cars and my car was the frog. 

It seemed that parents had bussed their spawn into the richest part of Sacramento so that they would get full-sized candy bars and not have to be in charge of satisfying their kid's sugar craving for the night. 

I honestly feel bad for homeowners anywhere near 40th Street. If the kids are okay with stealing porch chairs from poor college students, who knows what they'll do to millionaires who fail to provide Halloween satisfaction.

I'm telling you, these kids are evil. I wouldn't put anything past them. It's like baby geniuses, all grown up and taking over the world - starting with Halloween.

Maslow is a wise man.

When it comes to finances I listen to Mr. Maslow. As in, Abraham Maslow - the father of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. 

For those of you who haven't been taught this concept seven times throughout your educational career, I'll brief you in. 

Maslow's hierarchy of needs is meant to do exactly what it sounds like; it is Maslow's interpretation of which human needs have priority over other needs. First on his list, ranking at "most important," are physiological needs.

So, thanks to Maslow, when budgeting for the month I think about my physiological needs first. Will I be able to eat at least two meals a day? Check. Will I be able to pay rent and keep my electricity on? Check. 

After placing my priorities in order and putting survival first, I move on down the ladder. 

Second on Maslow's hierarchy are safety needs. So, I make sure I have enough in the ole' bank account to keep a full tank of gas throughout the month. 

Nothing like not running out of gas at 2 a.m. to keep you safe.

And so Maslow's list goes on with my logic in spending basically mirroring his logic in needs:

3) belongingness needs - going out with friends.

4) self-esteem needs - setting aside enough non-work hours to succeed in school.

5) self-actualization - buying a new book and educating myself.

All the way down to the sixth most important item, aesthetic needs. By this point my funds are usually running pretty low, but it really doesn't stop me.

Sure, I'm a college student who works three jobs and still manages lives below the poverty line, but I think it's important to spend the money I earn on things I want. Isn't that what we all work for? To buy things we want?

I don't get fulfillment just out of looking at my money, so instead I like to see my money transform into things (as materialistic as that may sound).

I think it is important to splurge, but to splurge with moderation. Normally, I spend about $100 per month on aesthetic things like new clothes. 

Another chunk of that $100 is normally spent on alcohol consumption and letting loose - which I sometimes consider medicinal, but for all-mature purposes I'll place it under aesthetics where it actually belongs.

The way I view finance is this: human beings are at the top of the food chain for a reason, because we have developed logical minds.

Being logical is the leading factor behind Maslow's hierarchy of needs and in turn behind my own personal finance philosophy.

For example, I maxed out my credit card on flights and train tickets for my trip through Europe this summer, but I did this knowing that I had a job lined up as print managing editor at The State Hornet for the following year. Already, only two months into the semester I have paid off half of my debt.

Although not all members of society speak fluent logic, having a logical mind puts us in a place of power. A place where personal finance should not be daunting.

Instead of stressing over finance, let's just all collectively use our brains and make the right decisions.

For example, don't want to fall victim to credit card debt? Don't spend money you don't have or know you won't be able to have sometime in the near future.

Listen to Maslow and choose dinner over the newest coach purse.

The man your mother told you to avoid

After turning down a full-ride scholarship to the University of San Francisco, Dan Walters, columnist at the Sacramento Bee, decided to drop out of high school.

"I'm the person your mother told you never to associate with," Walters said. 

Walters, who now writes about Sacramento politics, was a National Merit Scholarship winner and would have graduated fourth in his senior class at his high school in Eureka. Instead, Walters bypassed his final required class and continued on as copy boy at the local paper.

"The powerful truth is that the one class I didn't pass to reach my diploma, was civics," Walters said. "Ironic because this is basically what I write about now. I've written books about it. I've taught it in college classes. Just haven't passed the high school class."

As a teenager, Walters was an emancipated minor, going to school and working as a copy boy at the paper six nights a week.

"Frankly, I was just having too much fun," he said. "Working at the paper, online poker games, girl friends - they all led to another and high school just lost its allure."

Walters has now been in the journalism field for 35 years and has written approximately 7,500 columns, every one of which he said he thinks is perfect.

"I try to write like I'm telling a story. I like to be conversational and straight forward. Sometimes with an ironic twist and play on words," he said.

Walters originally began writing columns because he didn't like being stuck in the story form of regular news writing.

"I didn't like having to try to get people to say what you want them to say and the burden of quoting," he said. "I just wanted to be able to say, 'This is the way it is - period. Take my word for it.'"

Walters' writing career began in Lancaster, Calif. at Antelope Valley High School. Because Walters changed high schools frequently he entered Antelope Valley half way through the year.

"I was interested in photography but the school only had a position on the paper as a writer - so I took the position and really liked it," Walters said. "The next year I became the editor and the rest is history - I never really did anything else."

Before working in Sacramento politics, Walters was the main editor at three separate newspapers: the Hanford Sentinel from 1966-69, the Chronicle Oregon Herald from 1969-71 and a Eureka publication from 1971-73. Walters said all newspapers were small but still built up a lot of his experience.

"It was an odd career," he said. "Being editor of three different newspapers before I was 30."

In '73 Walters began working at Stockton's edition of the union, while "moonlighting" as an adviser to the University of Pacific in Stockton.

"The truth is, I had a couple of kids and I needed the extra money for the teaching, but I still enjoyed it," Walters said. "It definitely wasn't a chore to me."

Eventually, Stockton's edition of the union shut down and Walters moved to Sacramento. From there he applied for the opening at the capital bureau and was accepted.

"Since then I've been in the same building on four different floors," he said.

Although Walters now has his niche in Sacramento politics he said he is in no way a "political junkie."

"A lot of people in my business are political junkies - I'm not. I don't particularly care about politics in terms of campaigns and conventions," Walter said. "I find it to be mostly boring and irrelevant. I write about it, sure, it's what I do, but what I'm really interested in is the interaction of government and society."

Power and money? Welcome to America.

In the United States, nothing is ever enough and people always want what they can't have. These are innate feelings for most Americans, and are rooted in the United States' capitalistic society, where money is power, power is money.

And let's face it, money and power lead to corruption.

Privatization is one major concept prevalent in American society that nurtures any policy surrounding money and power.

David Streitfeld, New York Times' columnist, recently covered the issue of a private company taking over public libraries in Santa Clarita. Streitfeld included a visual description of the main library's environment in Santa Clarita and said, "It was a portrait of civic harmony and engagement."

Who really wants to paint dollar signs and bigots into that holistic of a portrait? Not me.

In Streitfeld's article he received commentary from the advocates for the library's privatization who "acknowledge(d) there was no immediate threat to the libraries" and that they just "wante(d) to ensure the libraries' long-term survival in a state with increasingly shaky finances."

My grandpa, a farmer in South Dakota, would respond with, "Don't fix something that 'aint broke." I understand this is a hard slogan for most Americans to follow, but it's true.

There is a common, underlying motivation throughout most of the United States, which makes this kind of sensical slogan irrelevant and that is the want and need for the bigger and the better.

If a large Coca-Cola wasn't enough now we have a Big Gulp. But why stop there? Get a fountain soda machine and install it in your home. This is the mindset of most Americans.

Anyone who has seen "Sicko" knows what I mean. In this documentary film by Michael Moore, he exposes the corruption that runs rampant in privatized medicine.

Moore calls out insurance companies for giving raises and promotions to employees who deny medical attention. In one case a man was denied attention because his treatment was considered "experimental;" in other words, it was too expensive for the company to want to cover. The man died shortly after.

If that's not a perfect example of what kind of corruption can fester due to privatization, then I don't know what is.

If the libraries are privatized in Santa Clarita similar, but less serious, corruption will occur.

Streitfeld interviewed Frank A. Pezzanite, the outsourcing company's chief executive, who had no pity for the libraries or opponents of the privatization in Santa Clarita.

"A lot of libraries are atrocious," Pezzanite said. "Their policies are all about job security. That's why the profession is nervous about us. You can go to a library for 35 years and never have to do anything and then have your retirement. We're not running our company that way. You come to us, you're going to have to work."

Furthermore, Streitfeld wrote, "(Pezzanite) has pledged to save $1 million a year in Santa Clarita, mainly by cutting overhead and replacing unionized employees."

You are not fooling anyone, Pezzanite, try to hide the corruption of privatization by saying it will "save money" all you want. In the end, what you just said is: I want to save you money, so I can privatize, make myself more money and take away any unions that will question my position of power.

And that, my friends, is corruption in its purest form.

Crossing borders on a budget

It is 3 a.m. on a Tuesday morning at a closed, vacant train station in the middle of Germany. My best friend JD and I sit huddled against a cold brick wall, hugging our backpacks for warmth and hoping the polizei (police) don't kick us out for being vagabonds.

This is what happens when transportation through foreign countries is not intelligently thought out. Take notes, kids.

When we originally planned our over night train escapade from Brussels to Munich we were sitting in our cozy bedrooms in the United States.

We thought to ourselves, "This is perfect. We now have one night's sleeping arrangements settled while traveling to our next location - all on the same dime. Win-win, right?"

Not right.

At some point (maybe the night before we left) we realized that the trains in Europe do not run directly to and from where we want and that "layovers" would be in order.

Three hour layovers at 3 a.m.? No big deal. We'll just grab a bite to eat at the train station in the middle of the night. Midnight snack, right?

I mean if Walmart can do 24 hours, why can't you mr. random, sketch train station? Wrong again. Nothing in Europe is open 24 hours - stupid Americans.

So, two misguided colleges students jumped trains that Tuesday morning (night?), which involved falling asleep, waking up to bells whistling, frantically scrambling to get off the train and stumbling to find a new sleeping headquarters at the nearest platform.

While I enjoy telling stories of my epic failures, this cold, strange night taught me a few things about transportation abroad.

First of all, no matter how young, how brave or how healthy you are if you spend a night jumping trains you will catch a cold.

Secondly, trains are the most expensive form of transportation to cross borders in Europe, but also give you the most opportunities to see the landscape. To some people this is an important aspect of traveling.

Personally, I would rather be in the countryside - not flying by it. That's what painting are for.

The most expensive and confusing transportation medium in Europe is renting a car. Let me break it down for you in simple mathematics: Daily cost of rental car + gas + toll freeways (due to no taxes for roads in France) = pay your way home by way of brothel.

Let's not play pretend anymore - as Americans in Europe we are tourists and we are lost. Just get on a bus and put some head phones in. It makes everyones life easier.

Now for some good news, there is one cheap and fairly painless way to travel across countries in Europe: easyjet and ryanair. These two airlines are no where near luxurious or fancy but they get the job done.

The tragic Tuesday train ticket from Brussels to Munich was $210. Plane ticket on ryanair from Munich to Barcelona - which required no train hopping - was $80.

Although, a few downfalls of cheap airlines are evident they are much less intrusive.

First of all, the airports for these airlines are more than likely about 30 minutes away from the major cities, but they have buses that run to the major cities at the same intervals that flights arrive and depart. So, only half-of-a-downfall there.

Also, flights are less likely to be on time when a ton of money is not invested. So, if for some reason you're in Barcelona on business - take the company's private jet and make your meetings. But for my purposes, I was on vacation - time should not and did not exist for me.

My biggest annoyance with these cheap airlines was the amount of advertisements the plane offered (most likely to make up for the money they lost on the flight.) Sometimes by the end of the flight I genuinely thought I wanted JLo's newest perfume, but I can only really blame myself for that.

Another upside to flights across countries in Europe is that they only last about an hour and there are no stops along the way. It is a guaranteed connection - plane crashes aside.

With a little research and preparation, traveling across Europe can be enjoyable. But if you try it out like me and hope that mommy's "good will" will get you where you need to go you will fail.

Know the cheapest mediums, know your stops and don't just think, "Eh, we'll figure it out when we get there."

Rebel yell.

Carlos Gonzalez Guitierrez, the consul general of Mexico, spoke at Sacramento State on Monday to share his perspective on the relationship between "Mexico and California: together 200 years" - a topic that any Californian should be interested in.

Before Guitierrez was introduced to the audience, Sheree Meyer, One Book faculty coordinator and English professor, walked up to the podium and made an announcement aimed to all students who were there on "class-obligation." The announcement was this: evidence of your attendance to this lecture can be obtained at the front desk.

Immediately, mumbles and mutters broke out across the University Union Ballroom.

"Oh thank god, I was going to ask about that."

"Ok cool, didn't want to come here for no reason."

 Nothing like a warm welcome for our guest speaker.

Let's be honest, I was there on "class-obligation" as well, but I definitely was not trying to make it so obvious.

"Hey Mr. Guitierrez, I only expect to get class credit out of your insights, okay thanks!"

Talk about disrespectful.

Sure, requiring students to attend a specific event can be useful to many classrooms, but looking at this announcement from the Guitierrez's perspective places it in a whole other category of rude.

When Guitierrez begin to speak, his first words addressed how much he had anticipated speaking at Sac State. He said, throughout the week leading up to the speech, he boasted to his Carmichael neighbors about his publicity he had on Sac State's light-up billboard.

After Meyer's announcement his ego might have dropped a bit, but it is kind of hard to take parts out of a speech when reading them verbatim off of a script.


The problem with requiring students to attend an event, like this lecture, is that most students have an innate need and want to rebel.

Anything assigned is immediately less appealing; for example assigned reading.

If a teacher assigns you a book - you automatically dread reading it. Because reading a book for a class means deadlines and gateway assignments. Even if the content is interesting and insightful you will look past it and "skim-read" just to get the information necessary to pass the class.

If a friend recommended that same book during the summer, things would be much different. You would probably read it in one sitting and then rant and rave about it - maybe even decide to write a book review. Just for fun.

The only difference between these two circumstances is that one was assigned and one was recommended but to the reader the differences are worlds apart. 

Furthermore, there is no way any one teacher can keep his or her eye on all the students spread out across the Union Ballroom - So students were simply getting the information they needed from this speech within the first five minutes and then talking and cracking jokes for the remainder. Inhibiting any audience members who were actually there to hear the speaker's sentiments - which seemed to be next to none.

Admittedly, I am not a saint. I was victim of being a stereotypical student with a need to rebel, at this lecture, but at least I passed notes instead of talking way above a whisper.

The problem for me is that I recognized my indifference to Guitierrez's speech.

I turned to my classmates as I walked away from the ballroom and said, "Well, I wish I wasn't such a brat and actually listened to him speak, because any other day - if it wasn't assigned - I would have probably learned a lot from what he had to say."

A waste of theme.

There is nothing worse than a unsuccessful themed party, event or gathering.

Why do parties need a theme anyways? The point of a party is to have time off to celebrate and have fun. Not to worry about whether the napkins are going to match the balloons.

Normally, a lack of creativity is not to blame for a failed theme, instead the blame can be pinned on lack of time and money; two things everyone wishes they had an unlimited amount of.

Only the wealthy, which most students are not, have anywhere near unlimited amounts of time and money - and even then, time will eventually stop them.

Just to clarify, by themed parties I do not mean ABC (anything but clothes) parties - get your mind out of that (high school) gutter - I mean real, tasteful themes that go beyond costumes. Themes that uniformly incorporate decorations and entertainment. Themes that only the Playboy Mansion can pull off.

Tasteful parties? The Playboy Mansion? Isn't that an oxymoron? Well yes and no. Naked girls aside, the Playboy Mansion is known to throw extravagant and uniformly-themed parties. 

Why are their themed parties always successful? Because they have a fortune and all the time in the world.

On the other hand, one recent and more relatable event, hosted by students in the University Union at Sacramento State, was representative of time and money cutting creativity short. This event was Phlagleblast, a celebration to familiarize students with features of the Union, held on Sept. 15.

"We had a brainstorming meeting and the jungle/safari theme came up, so we ran with it," said Zenia LaPorte, UNIQUE programs adviser.

Unfortunately, the Union staff did not run far enough or fast enough to convince the Sac State campus that the Union had been taken over by a jungle, much less a safari.

Which brings up another point, how are a safari and a jungle related?

The visual that comes to mind with a jungle includes an extensive canopy, monkeys, vines and a half-naked Tarzan. The visual that comes to mind with a safari includes fields of dry grass, zebras, jeeps and "adventurers" in silly outfits.

You can stack the two ideas next to each other, parallel to each other and on top of each other but they just do not blend together in any way.

"If it were a longer day and if we had a bigger budget, maybe we'd do more entertainment - but we were definitely busy enough with what we did have, plus staffing a table and helping out in general," LaPorte said.

The decorations were scarce and the entertainment was confusing. Magicians, caricature artists and balloon artists just do not go together - at least not in my mind.

The efforts of the staff were, I'm sure, well-intentioned but most of these employees are full-time college students: broke and busy. What may once have been a brilliant idea turned into Party City throw up.

Can you blame a group of college students for running out of time and money? 

No, give them a break.

But it does pose the question of why people, above the age of 12, who are not rich celebrities, attempt to throw themed parties?

With more free-time and funding (a rich man's toiletries) Phlagleblast may have been an A-list event.

Instead, the Union looked like...the Union with a few inflatable monkeys and balloons.

If a party is going to be jungle/safari-themed there needs to be a tiger. Or at the very least a petting zoo.

My point is this: a party is a party, and will be successful as long as fun is allowed. So, why waste time and money on any unnecessary favors?

Have a sporadic party and enjoy yourself. The people that matter will come.

Just like those students who wanted to learn about the various functions of the Union would have learned - jungle/safari theme or not. 

Call me young and stupid, hostels rule

Hotels are lame. Let's all just admit it. Number one reason being: noise complaints. 


If I'm in a hotel, then I'm more than likely on vacation - which means I want to get rowdy. 


Pretty please, fellow hotel residents, let me have a bit of fun? Psh yeah right, I am not 10 years old anymore and this is not an all-girls soccer tournament, so I'd like to do whatever I want. 


Number two reason hotels suck: you never know which one of your neighbors will be cooking meth next door to you at the Motel 6.


Thankfully, a solution has been found to these hotel imperfections. The solution is hostels - where debauchery and tom foolery run rampant; two of my very favorite things.


Sure, some hostels claim to "maintain order" past midnight, blah blah blah. For example the hostel I stayed at in Barcelona, Spain wrote on hostelworld.com, "You'll have a nice time here and enjoy the city. In this hostel we won't allow disrespectful people who disturb the rest of the guests. No football supporters are allowed here."


Joke's on you Backpackers BCN Diputacio. Your hired night aid was the one who was up until 5 a.m. rallying together the guests and playing drinking games - and I loved every minute of it.


Before this summer, hostels were an abstract thing to me. I figured anyone who stayed in a hostel ended up with their eyes burned off like in the disturbing, yet popular, film Hostel. Yes, I partook in the idiotic stereotypes of hostels thanks to American pop-culture. Sue me.


The important thing is, I got over it. When my best friend, JD, and I decided to backpack around Europe we knew the cheapest and most logical accommodations were hostels. 


"How bad could it be? The worst thing that could happen is we'll get our achilles tendon sliced in half," I chuckled, nervously.


Nerves or not, I was not going to let a silly film stop me from wandering around Europe. 


I stayed in five hostels on my month-long trip and each and every hostel impressed me.


It wasn't the quality of each hostel that impressed me, it was the quality of the people who worked and stayed at the hostel that impressed me. And honestly, for approximately $30 a night, I could care less how "classy" my sleeping arrangements were. I was so tired from being a tourist all day, all I cared about was taking a shower, drinking a few beers and having my own bed to fall down on.


The best part of it all, I was surrounded by individuals I actually wanted to drink a few beers with.


My first night at Astor Hyde Park Hostel in London I thought I had met my future husband (and by future husband I mean day long interest). He was foreign, handsome and going to law school. What else could I want? Well, he left the next day.


The next night my 12-person dorm room cleared out and 10 new bachelors entered; once again I thought I had met my future husband. As this continued to happen night after night, I realized these weren't future husbands at all - I was just finally surrounded by people who didn't annoy me. Shocking. 


Every person I met at a hostel was there with a common interest - education. Each and every one of us wanted something more out of life, rather than sit in our home town and do the regular nine-to-five, monotonous business. It was refreshing and made me regain my appreciation for humanity.


Not only that, but every person was willing to offer their advice and help. A big change from a hotel front desk aid smacking his or her gum in your face and telling you "I dunno, I'm no tour guide."


For those people who don't like meeting fascinating individuals, gaining quality insight and being a little more exposed than usual - don't stay in a hostel. I understand that it may not be every person's style, but, nonetheless, I think you would be a lot happier person if it was your style. So, maybe just try it anyways.

What did art fairs ever do to you?

A shooting occurred at 12:13 a.m. on Sunday near J and 18th streets downtown. The shooting killed VIctor Hugo Perez Zavala and injured three others. 


Debate has now sprouted between Sacramento community members and authorities as to whether the art fair, Second Saturday, was to blame for the shooting.


Opponents of the art fair argue that what started out as a quirky midtown art exhibition has now grown into a big, fat excuse to get drunk and wander aimlessly. 


Apparently, the root of all evil.


The fact of the matter is, Second Saturday ends at 10 p.m. and the shooting occurred at 12:13 a.m. 


So maybe Second Saturday has turned into an excuse to drink and look at art, but that does not mean that every person in downtown Sacramento can't handle their liquor.


Second grade teachers don't scold the entire class because one class clown sticks a "kick me" sign to the back of the class nerd. Just like, the city of Sacramento shouldn't scold the entire Sacramento area for one person deciding to be real brave and shoot at a crowd of innocent people.


If you want a more relatable, slightly-offensive, but honest argument: just because one student at a university decides to pull out a gun, doesn't mean the city is going to close down the university forever. 


Face it, we live in a world that is not filled with rainbows and butterflies, and I think everyone should recognize that, right now. 


Crime is going to ensue if it wants to. The one thing the city can do is heighten their police force and maybe close the art fair down to a smaller area that is easier to maintain.


According to the Sacramento Bee, Mayor Kevin Johnson said in a written statement, "We will not turn our back to violence in the City of Sacramento. We will not hide. We will not run away. We will not dismantle a tremendously successful event enjoyed by tens of thousands of law-abiding residents.  Second Saturday must and will continue."


While I don't agree with his phrasing, I do agree with his sentiment. 


In the past, fairs, like Second Saturday, have been closed down due to similar events. In 1998, the city closed Thursday Night Market on the K Street Mall after crowds of young adults called prompted repeated police response, according to the Sacramento Bee.


The interesting thing about this is that Thursday Night Markets still occur weekly in downtown Folsom.


So, maybe the the city shouldn't have placed full blame of the weekly markets at the K Street Mall and instead should take a look at why the young adults in Folsom can handle it and we can't. Maybe the answer is more opportunities and education for the youth in our area. Just an idea.


Too often, in order to avoid a sticky situation, officials take extreme measures. For example, shutting down a popular art fair because one person lost it.


Sure, I suppose that's the easy way out. But this time, let's instead take a look at what was really the root of this shooting and go from there. 

Playing a bit of catch-up

A month meandering around Europe, with only a backpack of clothes, was my remedy to the tough and stressful spring 2010 semester.  The only downside was coming home a week before the start of school and realizing that the fall 2011 semester wasn't going to be much easier.

With a 15-unit schedule, an internship, a part-time job and the position of print managing editor at The State Hornet, it hit me - my days of drinking pints in the Haufbrauhaus were over.

Guess I will have to drink in the office instead...

Responsibility? Deadlines? Sleeping? I don't even remember what that is like. A month of doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted had tainted me.

So, I landed in San Francisco International Airport a week before the start of school, but the truth is, I had to go to Sac State the very next day to start training section editors at The Hornet.

I didn't just get thrown into the lion's den - I got thrown in without clothes on.

And speaking of being in public without clothes, that's exactly how I felt in my first week back at Sac State. Sprinting around campus, spreading myself way too thin and forgetting everything along the way...maybe that trip to Amsterdam killed more brain cells than I thought.


The production of our first issue of The Hornet fell on the first day of school and was less than perfect. Technical difficulties mocked us throughout our sleepless Monday night.


Why would InDesign make its CS4 application incompatible with its CS5 application? It just makes no sense to me. The same product and they cannot coexist? Nothing like capitalism to ruin my day.


This incompatibility was the main issue that kept my boss, Leidhra Johnson, and I awake throughout the night. We opened all of the blank templates in CS5 and placed advertisements and then when our editors went to design their pages they couldn't open the document in CS4. And since we only have two computers with CS5, things moved a lot more slowly than usual. 


A few other road blocks we encountered included: adobe not opening without a password (a password which doesn't exist), PDFs growing phantom strokes, all adobe applications systematically shutting down without warning, editors forgetting to "apple save" and losing all of their design at 1 a.m., the server shutting down for three hours at 4 a.m. and having no copy editors. 


Pish-posh applesauce. We handled it. Sure, the paper wasn't sent to the printers until the last second but our first paper was completed - and that's all that matters.


Paper was finished at 9:57 a.m. and my class was at 10 a.m. So, I ran to Mendocino Hall - powered by no sleep and five red bulls. 


Classes continued throughout the day and needless to say, I drooled a little bit on my desk. Good first impression. Not.


After classes I went straight to a budget meeting for the third issue of The Hornet. Literally, I was at Sac State from 10 a.m. on Monday to 7 p.m. on Tuesday. 


When I finally take a step off of Sac State's campus that Tuesday I remember that it is my best friend's 21st birthday and that I am obligated to go out on her party bus extravaganza. So much for catching up on sleep.


So, I  pushed through the first three days of school on four hours of sleep.  


The rest of my first week was a lot of going through zombie-like motions and when I got the chance to catch up - I did. 


So maybe I'm "running myself into the ground," but when else am I going to have all these opportunities and enough energy to conquer them with? The answer is never. Life's a bitch and then you die. So get used to it people and enjoy every minute of it.