Judging Books by Their Covers

I do judge books by their covers. Not in the figurative sense, but in the literal "wow, that book cover is solid brown with vomit-colored letters. It does not deserve a spot on my regal bookshelf back home" sense. I am not ashamed of this perceived superficiality and here's why: if a book were really worth its salt, wouldn't the publishers put some effort into making their books prettier? And even if the book is bad, the publishers would want to make the book appealing so suckers like me would pick it up and give it a shot. Plus, if a book is pretty on the outside, it will probably increase its likelihood that I will stick with it to read it until the end.

Maybe it is the artist in me, but I really do like things to be pretty, which is why I cringe every time textbook season comes. While most books achieve ugliness by being painfully plain, their offenses are not too blatant like my Statistics or my Accounting books. Please do not put a picture of a calculator on the cover and expect me to be giddy like a schoolgirl.

I really think textbook manufacturers should put a little more love into their textbook illustrations and cover design because those graphics set the mood for the whole class. Pretty book = excitement for class and general interest in the subject. Ugly book = I will not even bother paying attention or doing my reading if it means having to look at this thing. This ultimately leads to flunking class, then being having to drop out of high school or college, then for financial reasons, being forced to be the bearded lady at the travelling circus in order to pay the bills. Lesson of the day: make pretty books so people will buy them and also, if you make ugly books, there will be a spike in bearded ladies at the circus. Fun for some, not for all(i.e. the bearded ladies).

Cliche

Is it cliche to write about cliches?  I'll take the risk...

As a student, I constantly hear my professors tell me cliches are bad and I shouldn't use them in my writing.  The inclusion of a cliche in a paper is an automatic F.

I just don't understand why, on an academic level, cliches are so taboo.  I understand that our educators want us to create new ideas and be innovative, but at the same time, I recognize that people ignore something very special about cliches.  

In a world of over 6 billion people, we can find ways to unite ourselves through commonalities. That's pretty special to me.  

After thinking about it for a while, I discovered why academia shuns cliches:

One of our basic drives as humans and competitors is to differentiate ourselves from one another.  I have to prove I am more creative than Joe Shmo to get the new promotion.  I have to showcase my unique talent to win Miss Teen Georgia.  Cliches prevent us from setting ourselves apart.  And academia puts them aside because the smart thing to do is to assert one's sense of adventure and inimitability.

Rather than put cliches in the "been there done that" pile, I think we should further explore them just to see how intricate and interesting our humanly connections are.  This world is full of evil and hate, so it is especially important to cherish the few bonds we do have with one another.  These bonds keep us sane.  They keep us connected.  They keep us real.    

Carpet

My mom hates the carpet in our house, and for good reason.  Carpet is pretty nasty.  It traps all sorts of nasties and unless you want to whip out the old, clunky carpet cleaner, it is pretty hard to scrub clean.  

So, my mom has gradually been changing out the flooring in our house to either tile or wood.  Now, I totally understand her reasoning behind this.  However, whenever we talk about doing it in my room, I get sort of hesitant.  Why is that?  I don't know, maybe it is just the feeling I get when I wake up in the morning and place my feet on the ground and instead of hitting a harsh, cold wood, my feet sink into a plush, inviting and warm carpet.  

I don't know about you, but I would much rather start off my mornings thinking about the warm and cuddly things than harshness.  

Come to think of it, I love the current flooring situation in my house now.  Instead of being punched in the face by the hardness of a wood floor, I get to gradually get adjusted to it.   I wake up, put my feet on the thick carpet, saunter off and walk on a slightly harder rug to get to my bathroom, feel the cold tile against my soles, then head downstairs to the wooden floors and finally, when I get outside, hit the concrete.  

It is almost like the flooring sequence in my home mimics the steps I take to fully wake up, get out of my la-la dreamland, and face the harsh and cruel world.  The carpet is soft and comfortable, like the environment I experience at home.  Then there's the rug that covers the tile, the tile, the wood floors, then finally, the concrete outside.  The concrete-harsh and rough, like the real world.

Frilly Toothpicks

Not wanting to trek fifteen miles to grab lunch, I decided to replicate my favorite turkey club from the local sandwich shoppe. I carefully toasted my nine grain slices, delicately slathered on yellow mustard, sprinkled a dose of salt and pepper, layered thinly sliced turkey breast, snuck in a piece of lettuce, added a dash of love and admired my beautiful creation. There was one last step...add the frilly toothpick--the exclamation point to a beautiful sentence, the encore at the end of a concert...the essence of a deli sandwich. When I stuck the frilly toothpick in, I was disappointed to see it slide right back up, out of the bread. I thought to myself, "this is definitely not right". I shoved it back in and much to my dismay, out it came. This got me thinking...just HOW do restaurants get those little things to stay in there? Perplexed, I grabbed the toothpick and examined it. No wonder I could not get it to stay in, it is straight as an arrow and smooth like the wind. How could something like that bind to warm, oven fresh bread and juicy turkey breast? Impossible. It was then I decided to send a message to the toothpick manufacturers...I decided to send them said message through this very blog:


Dear Diamond Brand Toothpick Manufacturers,
Sometimes I wish to make a deli replica sandwich in the comfort of my own apartment...a feat which is only made possible with the addition of a frilly toothpick in the center of my sandwich. However, your poor design makes it impossible for normal folks like me to duplicate deli sandwiches. Your toothpicks are straight and offer no structural anchors to bind to the sandwich. This is a severe problem for your consumers. However, I have offered a remedy. Have you ever seen a trident? Listen, I know it sounds farfetched, but I truly believe that creating a trident-shaped toothpick will not only interest potential customers, but will reinforce to your consumer base that you care about them and the ambiance of their sandwiches. I don't even mind if you take the credit for this one...I am not all about the glory. i just want my sandwich to be perfect.

Sincerely,
Concerned Sandwich Connoisseur