Chicago's Philosopher King

Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh.....there isn't one. After having written the final and after having thought about the concept a lot, I've come to the conclusion that there never has been, and never will be a philosopher king in America. This is because America is a democracy, and the philosopher king rules contradictory to the idea of a democracy. The democracy is about what the people want, a philosopher king is about what he wants and what his ideal state looks like. Because he's a gd philosopher. That's not to say that some mayors haven't been more like a philosopher king than others, but none of them are actually philosopher kings, because if they were, they'd probably be impeached. That's not to say that our lack of a philosopher king is a bad thing, either. The closest that civilization has ever come to a philosophical regime is a fascist regime. And, well, I think we all know how warmly received fascism has been.

Good Food Review

Amarit Thai

I eat at a lot of Thai restaurants, and I can pretty safely say that Amarit Thai is one of the best I’ve been to thus far.

Food: In the spirit of being a true restaurant critic, I decided to be adventurous and try something new. After a ridiculously drawn out survey of the menu, I decided on Rama Chicken, because I’ve never had it before, or really even heard of it. I was a little apprehensive because I’m pretty predictable with my food orders, and courageously ordering some weird dish you’ve never had before can be a dangerous game when you’re really hungry.

As it turned out, however, Rama Chicken was absolutely amazing. It was served on a bed of broccoli and rice and was covered in spicy peanut sauce and was one of the more delicious things I’ve ever eaten. Amarit gets a thumbs up for cuisine.

Atmosphere: The atmosphere at Amarit wasn’t really all that memorable. It was basically a long, slender, generic diner layout(minus the counter) with a large leafed green plant here and there. They blasted soft rock on the radio, mostly 90’s soft rock(i.e. Sheryl Crow). With the plants, sake menu, and slender crisp white plates(standard Pan-Asian restaurant issue), and Engrish speaking wait staff, Amarit kind of had an authentic feel, but in the way that a squirt of “Realemon” kind of makes your water taste like lemonade.

Service: The service with perfectly good, the waitresses were very attentive and nice and definitely laughed at all of our non-funny jokes. The only downside was that their English really wasn’t that good, which caused a bit of confusion.

Miller’s Pub

Food: The food at Miller’s Pub was alright, but nothing fantastic. I had tiramisu and coffee. The tiramisu wasn’t really anything fantastic, but it was still tiramisu, so I thoroughly enjoyed eating it. The coffee was bottomless, so that was a plus. The menu, however seemed a bit overpriced for the quality of food I received.

Atmosphere: For a place donning the name of an Englishman, the interior of Miller’s Pub seemed to be Italian-American overkill. There was an excess of wood, there were countless top-lit, gold framed oil paintings that seemed to have no common theme except “This is an oil painting”. My favorite, tackiest piece of Miller’s décor, however, is the stained glass in the back of the restaurant, which decided to forsake the traditional Catholic-themed images you expect from stained glass art, and take on a more appropriate image: steaming steak and sausage. All in all, Miller’s Pub made me feel like I had walked out of Chicago and directly into a scene from The Godfather, with just a few unintentionally hilarious twists.

Service: The service at Miller’s Pub wasn’t very good. Our waiter was a little impatient with us, despite the fact that the restaurant wasn’t very full, wasn’t very present or attentive like the wait staff at Amarit. Worst of all, when we made a little joke about his v-necked apron, he got even more impatient and even a little defensive.

Of the two restaurants, Amarit won, hands down.

Winter Poem

I found a way to wrap

seconds to minutes in

softy snowy clock hands, I

I did this by

freezing my watch I left it out in

the snow, I

let it go, now

it moves slow.

I found a way to smiling like

sunshine is pouring in

the room, I

I did this by

turning the heat up and

listening to soul,

it's winter I know, but

But life's too short to waste in the cold.

I am a Shoe.

I'm a shoe.

I'm not the same as when I started out.

Some people think that's a bad sign and some people think it adds character.

Some people don't care what I look like.

Some people care entirely too much.

Some people are extremely comfortable with me.

But some people can't stand being with me for a whole day.

Some people get tired of me very quickly.

And some people will refuse to let me go, even if I'm not doing what they want me to.

I'm always going places: some are big places, some are dirty places, some are slippery places, some are places where everyone can see me, some places are hidden(and you'll forget where I am).

If I've been somewhere I shouldn't have been, then you can see it all over me.

If I'm not given a rest, I'll expire too quickly.

The first time we meet and you like me, I'll be exciting.

But if you're with me everyday, I won't be exciting anymore.

Other shoes will go much more quickly than I will.

Yet some other shoes won't last as long.

But no shoes will last you forever.

I'm a shoe,

I have a tongue.

Sports in my life.

They aren't. I try to pay attention when the Bears are on during a Sunday afternoon. I try to keep my mind on the game and off churros when I go to Comiskey with my family. I've even kept reddening, unblinking eyes glued on the tv when I come across a basketball game on tv. But all I end up thinking is "Jesus, this is boring."



The only sport that was ever fun for me was cross country. I absolutely loved to run. As a dancer, I loved the idea of being physicaly active while not having to play well with team mates. Not that I'm hard headed or difficult to get along with, I just get my head stuck in the clouds and drop the ball, no pun intended. But cross country brought a new fire to my life: competition. I could run a whole race, with my mind wandering wherever I wanted it to, and all I had to do was make sure I could run faster than most of the girls there. I was good at it and it was awesome. BUT then I got a stress fracture which never healed quite right and now whenever I run I get a sharp pain in my left leg. So there that went.



Well, this blog made me sufficiently angry at the sport of cross country.



Boo, sports. Good riddance.

Thankful for a classmate.

I guess the most obvious choices for me would be like friends of mine.

So, Hannah Bernard and Nicole Middleton. They're both pretty swell gals and I'm glad they're around.

But everyone's going to say something like that, so I guess I have to be a little bit more creative like that. Beyond any specifc people, I'm thankful for all of my classmates. That's not to say that all my classmates really contribute to my daily life whatsoever, and not to say that the majority of my classmates are not, in my mind at least, interchangable or replacable. Now you're probably wondering "Am I replacable? Am I interchangable with all the other faces of Whitney Young in her eyes?" The answer is probably. Should you care? Probably not.

My bigger point, I guess is that wether or not I've spoken to some classmates in depth, or wether or not I can remember their names (which isn't a personal thing, I have a short attention span and an even shorter short term memory), they've probably had some effect on me in one way or another. Whether I hear something they say to a friend in the hallway that catches my ear, or dye their hair some impossible color that I swear to God I've never seen before, or they write something in their blog that I've never considered before, it affects me.

I am thankful for the friends I have at Whitney Young. But if I were surrounded by people who agree with me about most things or have the same sense of humor as me or whatever other similarites make friends compatible, I wouldn't have ever grown into who I am, and if it weren't for all my classmates that show and say and write things that are completely foreign to me, I wouldn't continue to grow like I do at this school.