Month: November 2015

Why am I So Awkward? 2: Return of the Awkward

/ Tim Severson / 2 Comments

People really seem to enjoy hearing about my awkward adventures back in May, so I decided it may be a good idea to delve a little deeper into this issue. For your laughs and for my own self discovery.

I can’t explain where these… let’s call them tics, come from. I live most of my life doing everything I can to accommodate everybody that I come in contact with, and, everything I can to accommodate these people with out being an inconvenience to everyone else in the world.

It’s exhausting.

Just thinking about this makes my chest tighten.

My brain forms associations quickly when I am experiencing all of the symptoms of what I consider to be an awkward situation. I have become so familiar with the symptoms, that I am like a idiot superhero trying to save the world from them.

This is what I have decided anyway…

Let’s go through some examples, shall we? Continue reading →

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Movie Review for iKnowBadeaux

/ Tim Severson / Leave a comment

I have become a punchline with boys over at iKnowBadeaux since I am supposed to be the “Official Movie Reviewer.”

Recently, they played a baseball-movie themed game (you can listen to the episode here) and I am disappointed in the things those morons had to say about an amazing film.

Here is your movie review, idiots. Continue reading →

Huddled Masses

/ Tim Severson / Leave a comment

Hate.

Hate is what has been left in the wake of the tragedy that happened in Paris last week. After all of the #prayforParis and people changing their profile picture to be colored in the likeness of France’s flag. Hate comes forth in the end.

We are a country that was formed by immigrants. Thrived because of immigrants. Became the greatest country in the world because of immigrants.

The terrorists are winning.

Interesting that a sonnet “The New Colossus”by Emma Lazarus is bronzed on the Statue of Liberty (a gift given to us by the French) but the words that adorn this plaque seem long forgotten.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

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Today, we shut off the lamp and we turn our backs.

Why? Continue reading →