Amber Burg's Blog

“Dreams don’t work unless you do.” – John C. Maxwell

We’ve all heard the line, kids these days don’t know what true work is. Parents say it all the time to their kids and elders harp about it every chance they get. Sad to say it but it’s true. The young generation doesn’t know crap about working hard.

I kid you not, just last week I had a person I hired for work to cover photography for an event. The work they turned in. . . if you could of seen my face. I was shocked, disappointed, and over 50 shades of angry red. I was somewhere on the boarder line of speechless and angry. My rage was about like a confused volcano. It wanted to go off and spew lava and rain down soot but it was too purely shocked to know what to do.

The work turned in was not only blurry, overexposed, underexposed, and not what we asked for but also freaking selfies. Apparently they thought that capturing themselves at the event was more important than doing their job of documenting the people there. Leaving me with dozens of selfies of them showing the good time they had. Facing me with the problem of figuring out how I am going solve this problem of having no photos to use.

If there was ever a moment to be disappointed in the work ethics of this generation, it was that moment. I am downright ashamed for them. The best part was literally the night I hired them they said what they that after college they wanted to work for a magazine doing fashion photography and travel the world.

“A dream doesn’t become reality through magic; it teak sweat, determination, and hard work.” – Colin Powell

They are not going to get there on that work unless a genie pops out of lamp and grants them the wish of a dream job. They need to do actual work. Let a little sweat roll off their brow. Its going to be hard but they need to get over the generation’s thinking of work ethic and actually create one of their own.

“How badly you want something dictates how hard you’ll work at it.”  -Anonymous

These people aren’t going to get anywhere unless they put one foot in front of the other and do the work. Yes that means that they have to get up and do something with their life. Geez it’s their life, their future. Start caring about it. The amount of time, hard work, and effort put in will show. Unless that work is put in, they won’t be achieving their dreams.

My parents taught me that if you don’t care or add the effort then why should your boss care to put the effort in you.  So care. If you want to reach your dream and get a person to notice your work, you have to do the work.

The profile I read was on Aziz Ansari and his comedy career. It mostly focused on his career and how he setup his comedy sketches for a show. I felt that it told more about his career then him personally.

He was framed as a guy who puts a lot of time and effort into his comedy acts. It goes through how he sets up his shows. It makes Aziz come off as a better, down to earth, and not full of himself.

The writer got me to that conclusion by telling me how he goes through his process. In his interview he talks about how you can’t let the number of people in your audience get to your head.

The photos didn’t really help me come to that conclusion. They did make him seem more like a normal person in the one with him and his phone. However, they didn’t seem to make the story any better or relate to the writing at times.

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/05/arts/television/aziz-ansari-prepares-for-madison-square-garden.html?_r=0

You’re sitting on a cold hard rock at the bottom of a hole.  Even if you looked up, you would only get a glimpse of a ray of sunshine. That’s what rock bottom looks like. Dark, cold and hard.

Everyone always says “keep your chin up,” “time makes everything better,” or “it can’t get much worse.” Well, as much as no one wants to admit that those over used Hallmark card sayings are right, they are. Kind of.

It’s not just going to start showering rainbows of happiness down on you. You life isn’t going to become that Disney movie where Prince Charming comes riding out of the sunset on his white steed to save you. He’s not going to lift you out of your hole and throw you onto his horse and ride off together. Especially when your Prince seems to be the problem.

It’s the moment that everyone dreads in a relationship, the moment when the world stops spinning for you.

The text message that blinks across your phone stressing an urgent need to talk. So urgent that he’s driving to see you now. The same phone that will blink across another message saying “we should break up.” The feeling of your heart sinking into quick sand.  The pounding sound your feet made across the tile floor as you ran to the parking lot prepared to fight. You were the doctor getting ready to glove up to resurrect what was left of this beating relationship and not just call time of death.

It happens to everyone, it’s not just you. In a contest of worst breakup stories, everyone is going to think theirs was the worst. On the upside, everyone will have advice of how they got over it and on with their life.

Steve Burg, a father, says, “It’s going to hurt. It’ll be like a roller coaster. You’ll think your over it and then you’ll hit a low point again.”

Life’s full of ups and downs but how do you start the climb back up the dark brown clay soil to the glimpse of sunlight?

“Kate Nutzman says one of the most difficult things to do is packing up the collection of objects collected throughout the relationship into boxes. To help her coup with a breakup, she creates a playlist of breakup songs that give off a strong ‘I can do this’ vibe.

A variety of people binge eat sweet food while other go out with their friends and hit the town. Some pull tight on their family ties and use them as lifelines. Sometimes laying in bed is all a person will want to do. Others run until they are physically exhausted.

The best advice that a person once gave me is “Just do what you need to do to get back. Spend time working on you.”

Do whatever it is that helps you but you have to accept it and move on.

It’s a breakup, not the end of the world. Zombies aren’t raining from the sky. You’ll live. You will feel like you’re riding a hurricane and its throwing you every which way it can.  Take it from a person who has experienced this, the best thing you can do is learn from it.

Decide that it’s time to get your life back and live it. Recover and stand tall on your two feet and when you’re ready to throw yourself back into the pond to find another fish, don’t second guess yourself and think it all the way through.

You’re sitting on a cold hard rock at the bottom of a hole.  Even if you looked up, you would only get a glimpse of a ray of sunshine. That’s what rock bottom looks like. Dark, cold and hard.

Everyone always says “keep your chin up,” “time makes everything better,” or “it can’t get much worse.” Well, as much as no one wants to admit that those over used Hallmark card sayings are right, they are. Kind of.

It’s not just going to start showering rainbows of happiness down on you. You life isn’t going to become that Disney movie where Prince Charming comes riding out of the sunset on his white steed to save you. He’s not going to lift you out of your hole and throw you onto his horse and ride off together. Especially when your Prince seems to be the problem.

How do you start the climb back up the dark brown clay soil to the glimpse of sunlight? Spend time replaying what when down and then accept it. The moment the world stopped spinning for you, remember it.

The text message that blinks across your phone stressing an urgent need to talk. So urgent that he’s driving to see you now. The same phone that will blink across another message saying “we should break up.” Remember that feeling. The feeling of your heart sinking into quick sand.  Remember the pounding sound your feet made across the tile floor as you ran to the parking lot prepared to fight. You were the doctor getting ready to glove up to resurrect what was left of this beating relationship and not just call time of death.

Remember the moment you truly felt that it was over. When the last straw was grasped and torn to shreds. The anger you felt and unleashed. He walked over to his shinny blue truck ready to escape to some dark. You knew it was over and he buried you deep into the ground with his unexpected surprise. Remember the thought going through your head. ‘His throwing away three years because… no reason.’ Your furied unleashed when he least expected it and you’ll remember his face when you said your last two words on the matter. ‘F**k you.” His shock as you turned on your heel and never looked back.

Remember that call home minutes later from your apartment where pictures of him plastered your wall above your bed.

“Hello, whats wrong…” repeatedly yelled into the phone as the your family around the dinner table is all screaming to figure what’s going on out.  “He what?”

The moment when your Dad gives deep insight onto the situation. When you find out your whole family hated him from the start but on the face of a professional actor. When you tell your brother exactly what happens including the ending and his face makes the I am so proud of my sister face after it follows a thousand ‘No you didn’t.’ Then it spreads like wildfire through the family of how you ended it, strong and angry. “I’m proud of you” coming from your Dad.

Remembering the instance is just the first step up the clay dirt. You need to remember it all as it floods your system, the good and the bad.

That one time he picked you up in his blue truck to go to the drive through zoo for your birthday and it ended it you waiting for 45 minutes alone in the truck on the cold leather seats while he was inside the house preparing dinner. That picture he took of you that night sitting on the oak chair in your peach sundress with your long brown curls decorating your back as the candle lit dinner lights of your face. Let them fade to just memories.

The times he left you with strangers and forgot you existed. Their faces blurring together and becoming one. All the times you had to put on a dress and plaster on a smile to impress his high classed family who thought little of what you aspired to be in life. How you said every polite thing imaginable trying not to be the homegrown, small town girl that still has her roots mixed in with the farm. A place that they wouldn’t even understand. It’s all just a memory. Accept it.

Relive it, accept it, and move on. Talk it out with someone who has known you your entire life. Get their perspective. Listen to them as they say, “You were in that relationship to the fullest. He needed to grow up.”

Remember your Mom crying at what he did and how much of an A** he was. How she constantly would say “Your better off.” Remember how she thought she would lose you forever because his life plan was to move out of the Midwest and put everything before family. The distressed it caused you to leave them and how you couldn’t speak your mind because your opinion was wrong.

Get all the perspective you can. Then when you have to do the final exchange of items, take that high road and never look back. End it all on good terms. Then let the ending be done. Let it lay there until all the moments become memories.

It’s a breakup, not the end of the world. Zombies aren’t raining from the sky. You’ll live. You will feel like you’re riding a hurricane and its throwing you every which way it can.  Take it from a person who has experienced this, the best thing you can do is learn from it.

Pick your sorry butt off the couch, wipe the streams pouring down from your black circled, puffy eyes and decide that it’s time to get your life back and live it. Recover and stand tall on your two feet and when you’re ready to throw yourself back into the pond to find another fish, don’t second guess yourself and think it all the way through. Who knows when an adorable goldfish might come swimming your way.

Vampire Weekend. No I’m not talking about what Edward Cullen from Twilight does on weekends or what any sparkling blood sucking vampire does. In fact it’s a band, an American rock band that started in 2006 in New York City.

Their album, ‘Modern Vampire of the City,’ released worldwide on May 14, 2013 is classified as Indie Rock music. It’s a twelve-track album. It features the musical instruments guitar, multiple drums, bass guitar, piano, and even violin.  The band itself has been nominated for multiple Grammy Awards and has won the Grammy Award for Best Alternative Music Album.

When the music first hit my ears, I was like yeah this is pretty good. The drumming pouring out of the headphones was abundant and spectacular. The drummer, Chris Tomson, made almost every song better with his rhythm and beats.  Out of the entire album, his work is what sticks out the most. He kept it upbeat in areas or drew my interest in for the first few stanzas before the lyrics started.

If I could just listen to their instrumental versions of the songs I would love this album. However, that version doesn’t exist, I checked.

The lyrics, voice, tone, and pitch bothered me the most throughout the tracks. There was multiple times where the lead vocalist’s voice, Ezra Koenig, drove me crazy. It was hard to make out what he was actually saying. At times it sounded like a high-pitched screech. It’s not just present in one song; the sound of his voice screeching is entwined throughout the album.

My ears withstood the sound of his voice for a few songs. However, when his voice mixed with an excessive amount of repeating lyrics in the songs, ‘Diane young’ and ‘Young Lion’ it drove me crazy.

‘Diane young’ gives Justin Bieber a run for his money with the unnecessary amounts of babys used. I honestly started off loving the sound of ‘Diane Young.’ It had a great beat and I could understand it. It was the ‘baby, baby, baby, baby right on time’ that I disliked. Don’t get me wrong, it was good, at first. The baby verse repeated multiple times in a row at different pitches with a touch of bad computer manipulation in parts. It made it hard to listen to because it was difficult to understand.

The ‘Young Lion’, just wow, it has six words. That’s it. If they would have removed those few words and left it as an instrumental, it would have been beautiful. The piano was astonishing lovely until the lyrics took over. Those six words were drawn out to last which was what made it unbearable. If they would of took the piano part and done something else besides sing ‘You take your time, young lion’ over and over it would have impressed me more.

Besides reiteration taking over the lyrics and phrases, I mentioned earlier having a hard time understanding what they were saying so I read the lyrics off the handy book that’s tucked into the CD case.  They are depressing. They all either have a negative look or talk about not being accepted by religion. Some people might be into that but it just wasn’t striking a hit with me. It definitely put a damper on a day.

Overall, I give it one and half stars.  The stars are for the instrumental parts without lyrics. I highly think that this band could be amazing if they made the singing understandable.

If you’re looking for a band where voices are hard to understand and some songs border on the line of depressing then this is your dream album. I would not recommend buying the whole CD. If anything I would recommend ‘Diane Young’ just because of its upbeat and drums but only if you can get past the baby repetition. Just make sure to listen before you buy.

It was 8:20 in the morning. There was a chill in the air as I headed to work, something that I don’t normally do on Fridays or in the morning. My schedule requires me on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the afternoon.

It was quiet when my feet hit the red plush carpet. The row of florescent lights blindingly bright.The only sound to be heard was the steady hum of the air conditioner. The office was empty except for two people. It’s usually bustling with people in suit and ties or dresses. There was no clomping of men’s dress shoes hitting the tile floor in the hall. Not even the clicking of a high heeled black stiletto could be heard echoing down the hall. Today, it was empty, empty and dead.

The light oak desks had all the swivel chairs pushed in. Work lay in piles and phones sat on the desks soundless. The place had yet to come to life. The only movement was of the ceiling fan making its rounds around. Still, even it was at its normal pace of spinning.

The place normally had five to six people at minimum running around the office. Phones never stopped ringing. The finger’s of the head secretary kept the rhythm in the room with the steady click of her fingers off the keys.

Today it was not the same place as 1 pm on thursday.

As I sit here in this freezing cold room hiding underneath the warmth of the electric blanket, I listen. I listen to the sounds surrounding me. The constant tick tock of the annoying green clock counting out the seconds passing by. The same ticking that keeps me up late at night due to its annoyance of a sound.

The sound of a young girl screaming as she plays across the street mixes in with the clock. The clicking of the keys as my roommate types on her computer. Then came a new sound. It sounded like a man doing announcement for a sports game. Reminds me of chilly friday night football games where I stood on the usually damp green grass with a camera in hand.

Sounds of people moving around in the hall, opening and slamming doors just hard enough where the frame shakes a little. The people a floor above our room dropping something, yet again. A big thud followed by a serious of more thuds. Still no clue as to what that might be. Sometimes it sounds like a ball hitting the floor others like they threw a 2 by 4 across the room. It’s always a surprise.

The ticking, thudding, clicking, and screaming along with random sounds joining in create the music of the college life room at the Plex. Never a dull moment with sounds like these that keep you wonder what is going on outside the door.

At any moment during the day students enjoy the luscious campus green space, wait in crowded lines in the cafeteria, or linger in dorm hallways with friends. Even at night students pack into lounges or curled up in the Learning Center with a textbook in their lap and a highlighter in hand. Students linger everywhere on campus, except on weekends.

Colleges known to be low on student bodies during weekends are called suitcase campuses. Meaning students never really unpack their belongs because they plan on returning home soon enough. Morningside could be considered to be half of a suitcase campus because students do not go home every weekend but every two or three weeks campus goes dead quiet.

According to the New York Times, “52% of freshmen that attend a four-year public college live within 50 miles of home.”At Morningside, the case is no different. Most students live within a hour drive. The Morningside College Fact Book states that in 2012 37 of the new students were from Sioux City. Spread across Iowa, excluding the 37 from Sioux City, are 120 students. Home is not that far away for some students that attend Morningside.

How deserted campus becomes on weekends depends on the weekend. If few activities are going on, college resembles the emptiness of a desert as a tumbleweed blows across it.

Saturday mornings on campus in the cafeteria crowds of freshly woken-up college students standing, some half asleep and others wide-eyed and perky, stand in line for brunch. Labor Day Weekend was the exact opposite. The grey tables surrounded by maroon and yellow chairs in their usually chaotic rows were empty. Lines that normally hold ten to twenty students hold just one or two people. Brunch lines are a breeze.

The room itself, quiet. Quiet enough that if a pen drops it would be heard two tables down. People can hear conversations from across the length of the cafeteria.

Students call out to one another from the high tables colored with sunlight from the windows to the tables and booths that surrounds the flat-screened televisions.

In the dorms the change is more noticeable. The long halls of Dimmitt, usually bustling with young freshman excited about something, are empty and silent. No music blares. No doors slam shut or creak open. There is just rows of silent shut grey doors and recently un-walked on grey carpet.

In the dorms at night, RAs roam the hallways on rounds. It’s an easy night for them. No one is there to create chaos and mischief. The most students on one hall is three.

For the students that go home, their journey starts with Friday afternoon or in the evening for some. They walk to their vehicle, some struggling with overstuffed duffel bags around their shoulders, laundry baskets filled to the brim with dirty worn clothes, and a backpack stuffed with textbooks thrown on their back. They throw their swollen duffel bag in the backseat along with other various things and climb into the front seat to shove the key into the ignition. The car comes to life with the purr of the engine and thus beginning their familiar drive back home.

Some students wonder why others go home so often. For some like Brittany Rupp, a junior, it’s to see their younger siblings at home. She has a 2-year-old blonde haired little sister who is just learning how to talk and still wobbles slightly when she walks. Along with Jade, the little two-year-old, Rupp has another sister who just reached Junior High and a brother who attends high school. Being two hours away she misses the little things of their lives, like her baby sister learning to talk or her brother’s band concert.

Brittany receives messages, pictures, and phone calls keeping her up-to-date on the family activities and developments but nothing beats the drive home down I-29 in her red pickup truck to a fluffy white Siberian Husky that greets her at the door along with a blonde haired toddler who still has a hard time saying her name.

Others go home because a big brown Lab with eyes the color of deep chocolate brown is waiting at the door with their tail wagging. If a person happens to walk into Jennifer Olinde’s dorm room at college they will find pictures of her dog, that she’s had since he was a pup, plastered over the off-white colored walls near her bed.

Olinde receives messages from her mom full of picture of her mischief dog and even phone calls updating her on how much trouble he got into recently.

Staying on campus every weekend just isn’t possible for some students. Colleges hate receiving the label of suitcase campus because it gives them a bad image. However, big parts of students’ lives don’t live on campus. They live miles away sleeping in a wooden crib or curled up resting in dog bed.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/03/education/edlife/at-suitcase-schools-around-the-country-friday-means-its-time-to-leave.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

https://my.morningside.edu/assets/job_search/2012_13_FactBook.pdf

Brittany Rupp  blr002@morningside.edu

Jennifer Olinde  jlo003@morningside.edu

At any moment during the day students enjoying the luscious campus green space, waiting in crowded lines in the cafeteria, or lingering in dorm hallways with friends. Even at night students pack into lounges or curled up in the Learning Center with a textbook in their lap and a highlighter in hand. Students linger everywhere on campus, except on weekends.

Colleges known to be low on student bodies during weekends are called suitcase campuses. Meaning students never really unpack their belongs because they will head home soon enough.

According to the New York Times, “52% of freshmen that attend a four-year public college live within 50 miles of home.”At Morningside, the case is no different. Most students live with a hour drive. (insert fact of how many students live in around here)))).

How deserted campus gets on weekends depends on the weekend. If few activities are going on, college resembles the emptiness of a desert as a tumbleweed blows across it. Morningside could be considered to be half of a suitcase campus because students do not go home every weekend but every two or three weeks campus goes dead quiet.

Saturday mornings on campus in the cafeteria are crowed with freshly woken-up college students standing, some half asleep and others wide-eyed and perky, in line for brunch. Labor Day Weekend was the exact opposite. The grey tables surrounded by maroon and yellow chairs can be found in their chaotic rows but empty. Lines that are usually ten to twenty students long are just one to two people long. Brunch lines are a breeze.

The room itself, quiet. Quiet enough that if a pen dropped it could be heard two tables down. Conversations can be picked up on across the length of the cafeteria.

Students call out to one another from the high tables colored with sunlight from the windows to the tables and booths that surround the flat-screened televisions.

The long halls of Dimmitt, usually bustling with young freshman excited about something, are empty and silent. No music blares. No doors slam shut or creak open. There are just rows of shut grey doors and recently un-walked grey carpet.

At night, RAs are found roaming the hallways on their rounds. It’s an easy night for them because no ones here so no one causes any problems.  The most students they have on their hall are three.

For the students that go home, their journey starts with Friday afternoon or in the evening for some. They take the walk to their vehicle, some struggling with overstuffed duffel bags around their shoulders, laundry baskets filled to the brim with dirty worn clothes, and a backpack stuffed with textbooks thrown on their back. They throw their swollen duffel bag in the backseat along with other various things and climb into the front seat to shove the key into the ignition. The car comes to life with the purr of the engine and thus begins their familiar drive back home.

Some students wonder why others go home? For some like Brittany Rupp, a junior, it’s to see their younger siblings at home. She has a 2-year-old blonde hair little sister who is just learning how to talk and still wobbles slightly when she walks. Along with her she has another sister who just hit Junior High and a brother who is high school. Being two hours away she misses the little things of their lives, her baby sister learning to talk or her brother’s band concert.

Brittany receives messages, pictures, and phone calls keeping her up-to-date on the family activities and developments but nothing beats the drive home down I-29 in her red pickup truck to a fluffy white Siberian Husky that greets her at the door along with a blonde haired toddler who still has a hard time saying her name.

Others go home because a big brown Lab with eyes the color of deep chocolate brown is waiting at the door with their tail wagging. If a person happened to walk into Jennifer Olinde’s dorm room at college they’d find pictures of her dog, that she’s had since he was a pup, plastered over the off-white colored walls near her bed.

Most colleges don’t like receiving the label of suitcase campus. It gives them a bad image. They want to be seen as a campus that has a wide variety of student population and activities at all times.  Organizations like MAC, plan events on weekends for students to get them to stay. They host midnight movies and have comedians and various entertainers come perform in hopes of getting students to stay.

The college wants to make the school feel like a home to students, not just a place away from home. For some, like Brittany and Jennifer it’s a second home, its just missing important people and animals.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/03/education/edlife/at-suitcase-schools-around-the-country-friday-means-its-time-to-leave.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0

Brittany Rupp  blr002@morningside.edu

Jennifer Olinde  jlo003@morningside.edu

They say there is no such thing as a stupid question. False. A question can be stupid and you’ll know by the person’s facial expressions if your question counts as a stupid question.

Her long brown hair swept down in front of her face covering her left eye. It was the calm before the storm. I looked at her seriously and with a straight face asked her how to drown a fish. Her hair flung back around her head. Her hands shot up and then smacked the old oak chair she was sitting in. Her hazel eyes rolled back into her head. The sassiness of her attitude released full blown at me. “You don’t. You hold him above water and he suffocates.”

The second person was more scared. I was leaning against her doorframe with a green notebook in hand. She was aware and scared of the notebook. “Are you doing another study again?” Her blonde hair shook when she spoke. I asked her my question and got a look of deep thought. She stood there quietly thinking about the how to drown a fish for what seemed like a long time. “Okay, first off, are you trying to eat it? Because usually if you drown it it dies.” Her face was serious. A person nearby starting laughing and the conversation got off the topic of how to drown a fish really quick.

A guy wearing  a grey t-shirt and a smart-aleck grin sprawled across his face. Once asked the stupid question he didn’t even blink an eye. he spat out an answer without even thinking about it. “Well, you take it out of water, I guess.” Looking at the words in his sentence makes it seem like their was a hesitation or a slight pause for questioning. However, there was absolutely none. He then proceeded to fire back a question that was equally as stupid but didn’t stick to the conversation at hand.