Transformers: More than meets the eye

What the hell is this thing in the picture you might be asking yourself. It's called the makerbot. Sounds like the missing transformer doesn't it. It'd actually have been pretty amazing if they'd used this in the movie. In a nutshell you gotta just check out these sites if you don't feel like listening to me ramble. www.Makerbot.com, Thingiverse.com, and http://www.fayettevillefreelibrary.org/about-us/services/fablab.html/ or http://www.youtube.com/user/FYfreelib. Imagine, you've just received your order of the makerbot in the mail. You forked out about $1200 or so to get this so you're pretty stoked. I mean you could have used this money to get the iPad but you opted for something with more practicality in terms of your needs instead. You open up the box and it's like Christmas, only it was the Christmas you had when you were little and there were millions of pieces you'd have to put together that your parents purposely ensured were in the package to keep you busy all day long, so they could take a nap after being woken up at 5am on Christmas morning. You know what I'm talking about. You were so excited you couldn't sleep so you would wake up as early as possible to get to open your gifts. Only this gift was one that would take all day to put together. I remember I got one with little tiny transistors so you could eventually create a transistor radio using a grid. I mean how much more nerdy can you get but I was consumed for hours on end. I was determined to make the grid turn into a radio! It was like a 3d puzzle. So you get your box open and you start to put together the pieces. This time you know better than to enlist help from any loved ones or friends. You know how testy people can get if they're frustrated with pieces not fitting and then someone comes along and fixes it after you wasted an hour trying to figure it out. Word to the wise, if you're putting anything together, just find a nice quiet place to spread out. So this makerbot is finally put together. You did your research and you have already used Google Sketch and other software programs to iron out how to create your designs that you are planning to test out. Don't forget about the huge roll of plastic the printer will use. Eventually the printer is set to go and you're printing your first 3d object. You decided to start small. You opted for a spoon. Cutlery is basic and you're hungry anyways. I mean you could make two spoons and start playing music. But you don't have to stop there! The options are endless and you can go wild. Instead of shopping you can now think about making it before you run out to the store to get it. "This s*&% just got real" and just think of how many people will save money, how homeless individuals can support themselves if these are available at shelters and churches, how third world countries could access these at public locations to provide their families with the most basic tools. There's even possibilities for saving money on medical supplies! Check out the sites! My mind was seriously blown when I learned about this. It's time you blow your own mind. Transformers, they really are more than meets the eye. My class once made our teacher cry because she thought we were making fun of her with this trademark phrase. Go figure.

What about academia?

Sitting in the cafe at the library I'm surrounded by undergrads and more undergrads with the token grad student or staff member of the library. Being back in academia after years of working out in the "real world" I can't help but have a distinctive view. What is it about academics and conversation beat to a dead horse? I praise conversation and welcome it as I missed having educated conversations about issues other than "What should I wear?" or "Does this make me look fat?" to "Somebody get me a latte!" or "Where the hell did my notebook go?" or even "Get him on the phone now!" So maybe my previous years were surrounded by a bit more superficiality and minutia than most fields but that doesn't we weren't productive. Sometimes the conversation needs to end and proactivity needs to begin. Sometimes it is better to act before you think because if you think too much you may overanalyze and end up stifling creativity. Be passionate, be creative, be proactive! Just my thought for the day as I drink my latte while typing away at the keys on my laptop wishing I would be more proactive and take this time to write something worthwhile rather than my thoughts running rampant. Stream of consciousness becomes such an overwhelming distraction. You should be ecstatic I'm not letting my inner dialogue run even more wild. There's some student with his friend on speaker phone talking in another language while I just previously overheard a conversation on taxes, Charlie Sheen, and economic disparity. What the hell does Charlie Sheen have to say now? He can't be "winning." Speaking of which, anyone seen "Anthony Cooper 360" on CNN? Movies to see (Oscar watch 2012): MONEYBALL, IDES OF MARCH, and if you haven't already seen it, THE HELP.

Let the untold wait and bring on the funny

If you have known me for quite a while and even went so far as to know my family, your mouth would drop and your eyes would pop out of your head if I told you about all the things the Stewart family has endured in the last year. We became a cliche but we became a stronger family because of these unexpected events. Now I could bore you with these stories now but I'd rather wait and actually attempt to create some sort of non-fiction attempt of a "book" with numerous edits and reviews from family and close friends before I delve into revealing all. So why would I dangle the prospect of several great stories in front of you? Because I needed someway of segueing from living in Los Angeles, working in the film industry, and writing about humorous products like the "gal pal" to living in Syracuse, NY, attending graduate school, and working towards becoming a school librarian. Most people don't see the correlation between the two so I have to bridge the so called "gap" in some fashion. So why not torture you with "to be continued..." in effort to explain how I got from Los Angeles to Nashville (with several cities somewhere in between for work on the hockey all star pre-game celebration in Raleigh, NC and SELF workout in the park again in San Francisco, NYC, and Chicago) to Syracuse, NY.

Side note: I was working at Buckle over the summer in Nashville when a very attractive co-worker of mine asked the most simple but unerring question that might as well have been rhetorical; "Isn't it tough to have a relationship moving around so much?" Let me preface this with the fact that he's a young musician so he probably understands a little bit of what I've experienced. But YES of course it's tough and I know at my age I should be married according to most cities and states in the U.S., not to mention statistics, but I'm not. Do I regret my prior decisions and the one that led me to return to school to obtain a masters? Heck no. Do I sometimes wish I was married? Yes. But then I realize how much I enjoy my independence and freedom and know that I am still not "ready." Though everyone always says, "You'll never feel ready." Oh the wheels turn and my head hurts. "Blast!" (See if you know what movie that's from and which actress said it!)

Now for the funny. I'd like to take this moment to introduce a character who may as well have been my introduction to Syracuse, NY outside Syracuse University. You have to understand that Syracuse University is fairly small (not nearly as small as Trinity University but maybe about the size of Vanderbilt University minus the medical school and hospital) and a bit of a bubble. There are plenty of opportunities and ties with the community but Syracuse itself is only a college town because it coexists with SUNY Upstate Medical, SUNY, and LeMoyne. But the mention of Syracuse University to most people not in a university setting brings on a nod, tightened lips, and silence. What is that?! I still don't quite understand it but maybe Syracuse University is considered pretentious in this town. I call it a town because Syracuse the city itself is rather small in comparison to what I'm used to.

It was a Monday morning when my mother and I reached my new home. It was a two story house in a quiet neighborhood with an exterior that looked a bit unfinished. Exposed wood on the front exterior but new siding and some strange pole that looked like it was anchoring the whole house. I'd already seen the apartment on the 1st floor where I'd be living with two other girls via video chat so I knew the exterior did not begin to reveal the better looking interior. I knocked, my roommate Carli opened the door with a barking, hyperactive chihuahua. Kona is cute as can be though not my ideal choice if I had a dog but she is more friendly and less of a yippy dog than the other chihuahuas I'd encountered. As we entered the apartment it was exactly what I'd seen on video chat only better. It was cute, comfortable and well furnished considering Carli was a PHD student in environmental engineering and Joanne who was in Haiti at the moment and a med student at SUNY Upstate Medical. Then came my room; the smallest in the house, smallest closet I'd ever encountered in a bedroom, a huge scratch or dent rather in the floor due to the roommate who had moved out, and it hadn't been cleaned as there may as well have been a layer of grime across the hardwood floor. What landlord doesn't clean and charge a cleaning fee to the prior tenant? WTF?! But there was a bed and a desk to which the prior roommate had left for me which saved me a lot of money and storage space in my car. That's right, I stored a good bit of my stuff so I only brought what I could fit in my Honda Element. Call me a tightwad but I just call that smart packing.

I had called the landlord earlier that morning after an email days earlier to ensure that he would be there at the house with my keys and a checklist to go over my room. I'd already learned that he had a poker tournament to go to even though it was a Monday! No wonder this guy acted so "slick." Keep in mind, I'm imagining an Italian Jew or some creepy looking fifty something with dark slicked back hair who attempts to manipulate any situation. But the point is he wanted me to call him again when I got to the apartment. Overwhelmed by having my mother with me, meeting Carli and Kona the dog, checking out the place, and seeing my room and what I was going to be living in for the next 1-2 years depending, I flat out forgot to call the landlord. Seeing as it was about to start raining we moved my stuff in with Carli's help quickly and efficiently into the living room. I had a missed call. Assuming it was the landlord as I suddenly realized I was supposed to call him again I made the call. This landlord was not only raising his voice at me for not calling but cussing up a storm while telling me that when he asks me to do something I'm expected to do it as if I was his employee or child. Excuse me?! Apparently he had said not to move anything in before he got there but he was late! Tired, frustrated, and wanting to share my inner dialogue with him, I closed my eyes, held my tongue from expressing how I truly felt, and explained that I'd forgotten to call and apologized explaining I could happily move my items in a more condensed area in effort for a "walkthrough" which technically was supposed to have happened before I arrived with my two roommates and then would happen again with me there to review the walkthrough and include my own notes. Word to the wise, avoid moving into an apartment where the tenants have already been there a year or more.

Aside from the drama surrounding my roommates and this landlord, the fact that there was all sorts of confusion over the "walkthrough" and that I could tell there was more to this story than I was told, I braced myself to meet this landlord character. Remember my impression of him over the phone? Well let me just explain what walked through the door; a tall rather large man who looked cornfed and probably born and raised in Western New York on a dairy farm. He had glasses and a loud bark and reminded me a bit of a Miss Trunchbull from "Matilda." A vision far from what I expected. Talking in circles, gruff, and obviously scattered he trudged in with orders to his assistant, a kind hearted but older woman who looked a bit rough around the edges. These two were quite the pair with their banter. As this landlord talked us in circles, may as well have attempted to verbally attack my roommate Carli to which my mother and I were ready to pounce in her defense like cats fighting off a big dog he finally left in a huff because he was going to be late for his poker tournament. The lasting thought I had was that if he won he would be easier to deal with and if he lost, well I might get charged for a maintenance fee and cleaning fee before I had even started settling in just because he felt like it.

The drama certainly didn't stop there as I wasn't even given a set of keys as they hadn't made copies and I had to sit down again with the landlord for two hours after several attempts to go over the lease and listen to him vent about the drama with the two apartments. Did I mention he had lived the year before in the apartment above us with a PHD student who had just moved out and another guy who was still living there. Only he now lived with now a law student and grad in fine arts. What landlord lives with students or better yet, wants to?! Furthermore, I had learned from my roommate that they had almost moved out after I said I would be living with them and sent in my rent because our landlord was so frustrating. Not only had they not even mentioned that but what else had they failed to mention?! Talk about unwanted drama and a lot of questioning whether I had made the right decision.

Alas, a couple week later things settled and though the landlord remains to be a constant but flittering annoyance, I am luckily content with my decision to attend grad school now that classes are underway and now live with two great girls who are my roommates. Happy ending for now, but to be continued...