The Re-Americanization of Christina Freiberg

Another Bizarre Post about Bizarre Wisconsin

2009-11-13T20:11:00.004-06:00

My mother informs, while growing up (in Catholic school out of all places), that at recess she and her friends would fetch a jump rope and start, well, jumping. Their song of choice: something about 'eddie' gein. Disturbing to imagine; six and seven year old girls singing a little ditty about Ed Gein while seeing how long you could keep jumping without disrupting your jump. Not only that, but where were the nuns who patrolled on recess duty!! You think they would whack a girl for saying such sinful and mean things!! Although she forgets the whole song entirely, I would not be surprised if the song ended, 'How many lamp shades did he make? 1. 2. 3. 4.......

Update

2009-11-10T16:14:00.010-06:00

Sorry for the neglect. I have, and brace yourself readers, a job!! A desk job. Cubicle. Highlighters. 9-5. The works. But you can breathe easy though, it is only a temporary/seasonal job in an art dept. Granted it is paperwork, involving a plethora of emails and paper wasted, it is quite chilled. So, when I get home, I have feel very tired, finding myself vegging out in front of the TV.

The biggest benefit of working 9-5 is that it keeps me occupied. I rarely go out in Wausau, because, as everyone knows, I absolutely abhor this joint. So, on the weekend, I try to find the most random adventure and go with it. Halloween weekend, my mom and I went to Horicon to see some birds in a marsh (this was her idea, not mine) Last weekend, I decided to go on a ghost hunt to kick start my campaign, "Wisconsin: the most bizarre state in the Union.' Come on, I need validation to prove my point here. With this said, I packed up the car, took Nanc along with me, and started off on my grand and probably stupidest adventure in recent times.

Quickly, before I get into anything, you might be wondering, 'Why don't you just go ghost hunting in Wausau?' Answer: Wausau is so boring that spirits don't even haunt it. The only known area is being developed, so the snowmobile ghost is probably not going to haunt Shorey much longer.

First stop was Dartford Cemetery, two tiny plots of land in Green Lake. Legend says that if you sit atop the mausoleum, you will be pushed off. Also, some Indian chief, buried nearby, is said to haunt the cemetery as well, along with some civil war heroes. The chief is interesting because he died in a stupid way. Drunk off his ass, he was dared to swim/walk across the Fox River. He did and died in the process. Now, Nanc and myself arrived around 430pm, right as the sun was setting. So, we toured the small plot before making our way over to the mausoleum where I perched myself on top of the brick structure. Immediately, when the sun was down, the place became damp and extremely chilly. Keep in mind, the temperature that day was well into the 60s/23C for those of you reading this in England. Then, I decided to whip out my camera. If you are an avid watcher of all things ghost-like (i.e. Ghost Hunters or Ghost Adventure, which by the way has the biggest tool on TV to date), you know that ghost can resemble orbs at times. See, with the combination of the air temperature (sucking the warmth to manifest itself) and light energy, it will absorb this to become an orb. My task was to take two pictures back to back. And wouldn't you know, I happened to catch an orb or two. Most looked like I captured dust particles, but one picture I had one that was just glowing. Wait, why explain and see it for yourself.

I mean, there were no cars present. There was nothing metallic in the air. How can you possibly describe how this bright orb manifested?

Anyway, after our jaunt in Green Lake, it was off to Elkhorn, Wisconsin. Elkhorn is located near the Illinois border, an hour and a half away from Green Lake. Before I go on, I am fully aware this was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. It is top ten worthy in my all-time levels of stupidity.

Now, as I stated in the last blog, Elkhorn happens to have a werewolf lingering along a back road called Bray. After hearing about this, I had to travel down there and check out the place myself. Bray Road diagonally intersects farm fields, where the dead corn stalks stand tall. Property, if not cultivated, is separated by some dense pine trees lining the side of the road. So, with the combination of corn stalks and trees along the side of the road, anything that jumps out at you is a goner. The moment we turned on that road to the moment it was finished had to be the most intense moment of my current life. AND NOTHING HAPPENED!! The best we got was a were-rabbit. It leaped out of the corn stalks to where my mother yelled, 'What's that?!' Panicked myself, I had to think before I said 'It's a bunny.' This will be the only time in my life I will ever be scared of a rabbit. It darted across the road before making a u-turn and heading back to where it came from. Now, my mom claims the rabbit had red eyes before she saw its reflectors. I, on the other hand, saw his aqua blue reflectors and nothing more. When we completed our short journey, my mother turned to me and said, 'Want to go again?' My response, 'Once is enough for me.' 'You mean we came all this way to drive down a stretch of road just once.' 'Yep. There is no way I am going down that road again. Not for a long time.' 'But nothing happened!' exclaimed my mother. 'But, I am so scared of something that I did not see that I don't want to do it again.' I was literally so shaken up over the possibility of seeing a werewolf, a mythic creature that does not exist, that it was not until we got to Madison, an hour and a half later, that I finally felt safe. Also, this increased anxiety and fear was better than any haunted house I have ever been too!! So, for next Halloween, if I am still around, I am getting in my car and going down Bray Road again. Even though it might cost a tank of gas, it will still probably scare the shit out of me; better than some lame guy in a costume popping out at me in the complete dark.

So there you have it. The latest weekend adventure. I think next weekend is a trip to Madison, which might include some quality tailgating at Camp Randall. Who knows.

Don't Drink the Water

2009-11-01T09:52:00.002-06:00

Look, Wisconsin has to be the state that gets the most sh*t dumped upon them. Why? I do not know. The neighbors on our western border call themselves 'God Country.' Which God actually deemed it as 'his country,' I do not know, but they constantly poke fun at us. I believe ever since FARGO exploited Minnesotans for what they were (those accents were not embellished; people really talk like that), they have been sour ever since. And since this exposure, their whipping boy is Wisconsin. Illinois just takes up our lake front property and wins our lottery. Not to mention they all drive like maniacs. Iowa only touches the southwest corner, but since it is a small portion of the border, there are no complaints coming from either state. If there is, more than likely it will involve some sort of collegiate athletic team or agriculture.

Our biggest city, Milwaukee, is like a small Wisconsin town times fifty! Neighborhoods and portions of the city are known for their bars and the crowds there. For example, if you are on North Ave, it will be the UWM crowd, Brady is recently graduated and semi-upscale meshed with the dive bars, Water is free-game, and the Third Ward is where the posh people go to get their drink on. Because it has Lake Michigan on the eastside, you are in and out of downtown within minutes.

So, in a state where cheese is a fashion accessory, produce the most microbreweries, and happens to be home to the number one most drunk city in the US, you would think that this would be enough to make us a little strange? Apparently it is not. Our reputation has been so tainted by our bullying neighbors and HAPPY DAYS that we stopped defending it. As the saying goes, 'When you say Wisconsin, you've said it all...'

But what does the expression 'I'm from Wisconsin,' really entitle me besides booze, cheese and the Packers? Is it our dairy culture? German ancestry? Athletics? Nope. Since it is the Halloween season, where things tend to go bump in the night, the weirdest things have been coming out of the wood work. Like weird information that no one will know or care to know or care to remember....except me. Case in point:

1) I have no idea if it is Forbes or Times, but Wisconsin is home to the 'most creative' serial killers. Ed Gein and Jeff Dahmer happen to claim the crown for their respective decades of murder, cannibalism, and bizarre behavior. Three of the most iconic horror film villians, Norman Bates, Leatherface and Hannibal Lector, are all based on Ed Gein alone. And according to the German director, Werner Herzog (keep in mind, he could be embellishing on the truth), Plainfield has the highest index of serial killers and abnormal behavior within the surrounding area.

2) In the late 19th century, the Black River Falls area fell under mysterious circumstances. People died of unknown deaths; many felt themselves possessed and killed at will; a Stevens Point woman threw bricks into windows; I mean, just the weirdest things happened in the span of a year. If you do not believe, watch WISCONSIN DEATH TRIP (or read the book).

3) I just found out today that there is a werewolf-like creature in Elkhorn, Wisconsin. Apparently it haunts a stretch of Bray Road, and with some many eyewitness accounts, there is a radio program on AT NIGHT devoted to callers who see the myth-like creature. When MonsterQuest, a History channel TV series, came to town, they submitted everyone who had seen the monster to a polygraph test. All people who participated were apparently telling the truth because there were no indications or spikes on the polygraph.

So, what are you waiting for? Come visit Wisconsin!! It's hell on earth!! As Billy Joel once sang, 'I would rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners have much more fun because only the good die young...'

What's Wrong With America, Part 2

2009-10-28T09:12:00.003-05:00

On today's segment of 'What's Wrong With America,' we are going to explore the concept of the 'backyard' or 'lawn.' Every American outside a major city has a house, not an apartment or townhouse with little room. Oh no. It is wide open spaces both inside and out. I am pretty sure that my parent's living room, computer room and the hallway are equivalent to my friend's flats in Bristol. Yes, we like our space in this country because the moment someone infiltrates our twenty foot personal bubble, Americans freak out. Sometimes it is like, 'Get off my lawn' or 'You're dog is using my yard as his personal bathroom. He does it again, I will get my shotgun.'

I do not understand why people in this society must have a yard of sorts. Big or small, it does not make sense. Yards are like pets, you must groom and keep them under maintenance constantly. My mother LOVES her yard, and yet, with the change of each season, the same ol' complaints come out of the woodwork. It is safe to say she dislikes autumn because the leaves fall onto her property, and thus, once a week, she gets out the rake and an oversize leaf blower to 'sweep' them away. And if you are lazy, then you hire someone to do for you. I know it creates another random job, like private accountants, but come on.....you can do it yourself, no need to waste your money on someone else's misery and painstaking labor.

Why must Americans put themselves under such toil and trouble. You choose not to live in an apartment, departing from anything deemed 'socialist living' just so you can stretch out. You choose to live in a house with a yard. You know the seasons change all the time and on time. You signed up for it, so stop complaining. Yesterday, I joined in the festivities of raking up the leaves. You know what I have: a blister on my left hand and a stiff back. And I only did 1/4 of the yard while my mother, with the leaf blower, was able to accomplish 1/2. That's right, we are still not remotely close to being finish. So, America, learn to enjoy the changing of the seasons. After all, when you purchased your dream home with adjacent yard, you knew that mother nature would be a factor into all of this.

Gosh, I am not looking forward to winter.......

What's Wrong With America, Part 1

2009-10-26T14:22:00.003-05:00

Between job interviews and brainstorming my next, grand adventure, I found myself being sucked into the most comfortable place in the world: one of the many chairs located in my parent's living room. It is like the Bermuda triangle; once I sit down, nothing will get accomplished. The TV is constantly on, and whether I am actually paying attention or not, no work will be accomplished AT ALL.

And yet, while cruising the endless TV stations, I am able to pick up the characteristics of American pop culture. This weekend, in particular, MSNBC programmed TV shows or news segment, catered to the sick and twisted. All subject matter centered on the occult, the Jim Jones cult, interviews with Jeffery Dahmer, inside the mind of a serial killer, and the like. Quite disturbing if you ask me. But getting back on track, I figured, as of right now, there is one show that truly fascinates me. And when I say fascinate, I do not mean that this show tickles my fancy in a positive way; in fact, it is the complete opposite. This TV program is like a big shiny bug zapper and I am the helpless mosquito stuck in a trance, helpless as I stare into the glowing the lights. This show happens to be TLC's 18 and Counting.

The Duggars have basically paid the bills by selling their soul to the TV gods. Their children, if they actually do go to college, will be set for life as TLC helps pay off any juvenile heating and electric bills while the constantly whore themselves out for the US to see. And I am so intrigued by helping them to achieve ratings success that it sickens me. If they are on TV, I will watch. It is as simple as that, but their lifestyle is something I have HUGE problem with.

To start, Ma Duggar is going on her 19th child!! 19th!!! How can she do this? She and her husband (which by the way, I absolutely adore his hillbilly name), Jim Bob have got to be the horniest parents alive!! Each child they produce and introduce to this world are their physical actualization of just how much they love to have sex. She refuses to use any birth control, and subsequently they will have to call upon Ty Pennington and Extreme Makeover: Home Edition to build them a warehouse for them to live in.

Every child's name begins with the letter J. All the older children must take care of a younger one, which means the mother does not do much except brainwash her child with home schooling. Yes, I get they are extremely Christian, but shutting them out from the world is a big problem. I truly believe if any of those children left the safety and comfort of their corner of Arkansas, they would perish and die. They could not survive in the world because the whole 'Jesus help me' or 'I pray to God to tell me what to do' is just a sign of weakness in my book.

Now, the most upsetting thing about this family, and the reason why I find them particular wrong, is how the parents do not let their children make decisions for themselves. Religion and their parent's selfish teaching does not allow these children to make their own decisions. Instead, they seemed programmed, repeating things their parents say. For example, they went to the Christian Film Festival in Texas. The mother, when asked to express her views about the film festival, stated that she loved these films because they are family-oriented, clean, and are truthful. Then, they asked one of their offspring, J'Qaeda, what she thought. Now, this was pointless on TLCs part because this girl said EXACTLY what her mother said!! Then they had the audacity to say that no films produced in Hollywood are family-oriented. Are you kidding me? Just because Jesus and Christianity are not the main focus does not mean the film is not family oriented. In a way, I find them extremely ethnocentric towards other religions. What if these films were produced and made by Jewish filmmakers, would they find them extremely disappointing because it does not mention Jesus anywhere? Or that it would be a conflict of religious interest?

Bottom line, the Duggar parents are hindering than helping. If they have an interest in God and Christianity, then let the kids make their own judgment calls. Do not do it for them. I say this because I was a victim too. I was forced to go to Catholic school and be confirmed in the Catholic faith. I even told my mother I did not want to be confirmed, and I was forced into it anyway. Since then, I have found myself at peace by denouncing a distinguishable God, and the concept of Jesus seems like a cult at times. Besides, that is what religions are: cults! If we could put religion aside, you know how peaceful this world will be. Religion is the core reason for war and destruction, not politics and sadly the Duggars are fueling this fire. So, TLC should pull the plug and quit exploiting this family. And do not get me started on the eldest son and his wife. Until the acne is cleared from their faces, then they are old enough to be parents!! They are still just inexperienced children in my eyes.

Bump in the Night

2009-10-21T08:55:00.002-05:00

Between the random errands and work outs, I found myself alone for the first time yesterday afternoon. My mother had a lunch date which I declined to participate in, so I grabbed my computer and turned on the tellie. Now, if you are in America, home alone and the only thing to entertain you is the television, well, this avenue is not even promising. All it is IS daytime soap operas, random re-runs of my super sweet 16 or some obscure star's offspring whoring it up on a reality tv show in the hopes of becoming a 'serious actor.'

So after channel surfing at least twice through the 700+ stations, (I do not know why my parents need 700+ channels because really, you only need like 50) I landed on the Discovery Channel HD, which is rumored to be better than the Discovery Channel. Today's showing for four hours, all an hour long in length, was A HAUNTING. I thought, since it is Halloween, stuff about spirits haunting people was quite perfect.....or so it seemed.

First of all, whatever actors are cast to 're-enact' these events are horrible!! I mean, if you are cast on this show, it is definitely a career killer than a maker. Second, the creepy music and narrator work to an extend, but why do all shows about the dead have to have a narrator with a low baritone voice, which no doubt is probably adjusted in the sound studio to sound even deeper. Either way, it is a pretty crappy show. But that was not all. After subjecting myself for two hours worth, I started to question the show's motives more critically. Yes, I am fully aware that I could divert my attention elsewhere, but there was nothing else on.

I began to realize all the people being 'haunted' or 'possessed' by the spirits of the after life were middle-class, White Americans. They were either living in upstate New York or some obscure tiny town in the Midwest. All homes were old, dating around the 19th century/turn of the 20th century. And finally, this was my favorite discovery, they all happened to be Catholic!! All episodes, without fail, had the main characters consulting their local priest to either bless a house, contact some psychic or paranormal team, or conduct an exorcism. This part is truly amazing!! So, these questions popped into my head:

Why are the spirits and demons only haunting or 'terrorizing' the Catholics?
How come only Catholics are contacted by the dead? Does this mean the spirits are Catholic?
Why aren't the spirits haunting the Jews, Muslim, Protestants, the Duggars or any other religion besides Catholicism?
Why a priest? I assume 'The Exorcist' did wonderful PR work for priest throughout America!
Why are 'the victims' all white? Either this is racial profiling on the ghost/spirits behalf or the show's executives. I believe it is the latter who is at fault.....
Don't these people know that if there is something strange in the neighborhood, you are suppose to call Ghostbusters?!?!
Why don't these people contact some voodoo doctor, shaman, or Native American spiritualist? I would contact that Native American personally because they are more connected with the spirits of the after life than the Catholics! Catholics have no respect for nature and the ghosts of the world, while the Native Americans incorporate this within their spirituality. Catholics make the spirits scary and demonic; Native American are more calm and are accepting.
Why am I still watching this program?

Bottom-line: Why is it that when everything goes to hell in a hand basket that people, who normally do not go to church nor pray, seek the advise of holy father of sorts to help alleviate their problems? If you were functioning on your own just fine, you can get through this problem on your own as well!

Busting Out of Boredom only to find I was there the entire time!

2009-10-20T12:20:00.004-05:00

After being diagnosed a 'freak' by a certified medical technician, I thought it would be better to leave my humble abode and actually interact with the world. That, and watching FREAKS AND GEEKS again was not helping my case. So, as the weekend approached, I packed up my bag and headed to Neillsville, Wisconsin. You are probably wondering,'where in the world is Neillsville?' And you have every right to ponder the existence of this tiny town. Although its population barely exceeds 2000, it happens to be the county seat of Clark, an obscure county that has a large Amish index and tinier towns than Neillsville. That and it has the world's largest talking cow, but it will only talk if you feed it a quarter.

So, after the world wind tour, thanks to its newest resident, Kim, I was able to experience the fine dining of Donna's Cozy Kitchen followed by a high school football game. Let's just say the mighty warriors of Neillsville are better suited for the chorus line than the football field. Now, nothing is more exciting than prep football season, but apparently I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was wearing a pea coat with a flannel scarf topped off with a nice hat that would have been worn in the 1930s than 2009. Epic fail? You be the judge.

After the game, it was off to Madison for homecoming. As we woke up in the early morning hours of Saturday, we made it to Camp Randall around 10pm, an hour before the game. With no tickets, we joined other countless fans and headed to one of the bars. Now, this is my first time integrating myself back into the Wisconsin's favorite past time: drinking excessive amounts of alcohol at a sporting event or affectionately known as tailgating. In the past, I lived for these moments. Beer chilling in the cooler; brats on the grill; taunting the visiting team's fans. On that Saturday morning, as I found myself surround by drunken Badger and Hawkeye fans, I felt myself extremely uncomfortable. I love my personal space with a circumference of 2 feet distance from friends and 7 from strangers. The closer a massive amount of strangers come, the more discomfort I experience. So, this was how my day started off, returning to my 'freak' status as a I tried to ignore advancing glances and millions of people rubbing up against me as they walked out of the bar.

Then, to make matters worse, I spoiled my taste buds while living aboard. You see, American beer produced by a corporation is the most disgusting beer I have ever tasted. It is all water with the other four elements, malt, yeast, barely and hops comprising of a tiny percent. I nearly gagged on every cheap bottle of Bud Lime and Miller Lite, wondering if this would bring about my demise. Since I was wearing, well, black attire, the only red I had on was an Arsenal scarf. I had one woman that shouted 'Go Silva' in my general direction and a french-born, badger graduate quiz me, asking if I knew anyone French on the Arsenal squad. Since I could not recall anyone, I just said there was Arsene, to which he replied there were two people on the squad. Oh well.

Around the second quarter, we tumble weeded to another bar down Regent, just south of Camp Randall. Here is where I might have experienced the highlight of the football game. Since I have been trying to expand my writing career, you will always find me carrying around a black, leather-bound notebook. I usually will find time to write down the interesting and random behavior or quotes from people whether we are having a conversation or I am eavesdropping. For example, my pals became friends with two older gentlemen sitting at the bar. As I was eavesdropping in on another conversation, I pulled out my notebook. One of the men at the bar, right as I am writing, asks what I doing. Kim: Oh, she's a writer.' Now, this man began treating me like I was celebrity, that I was actually important for once in my life. 'Are you writing about me?' 'What?' 'Are you writing about me? Because I am a great guy, but don't use my real name. It's Jason.' 'Jason, I did not know what your real name was now until you told me.' 'Give me a fun nickname like Jake.' 'I'm not writing about you, Jake.' 'Better yet, call me Shark. Write that down.'

Henceforth, Jason the Shark was incepted even though the only mention that he will get from me is in this blog. Although quite an entertaining fellow, who constantly asked me to guess his age, I found him quite boring and a little drunk. It made me wonder where his wife and presumable offspring were doing at that exact moment. Then, after the defeat of the Badgers and the sore losers of the Badger nation quit their drunk crying, we left that bar, found my brother, and went out for some Mexican.

With the combination of horrible liquid that has the audacity to parade itself as beer followed by some Mexican food, I suffered from a common disease called Montezuma curse. I found myself hours later with a headache and nauseous, restricting myself to the couch watching Friends re-runs while my two friends went to a haunted house. Coming full circle, it appears I better off alone, watching Television and staying secluded from the environment around me. After all, I am a freak and we tend not to thrive if exposed to an extrovert society for too long.

Viewer Discretion is Advised

2009-10-15T14:47:00.001-05:00

Well, it was the yearly (in my case, two year) check-up. Got the whole works done. I must say, technology has come a long way. Everything is done electronically and pain free EXCEPT the silly pap smear. I am sorry, but come on!! We must progress pass the cold, metal clamp that resembles a car jack!!

Anyway, that was not the worse part. I had give some blood. Hey, there are two Freiberg women needing medication to function correctly, while the other does not need any pills to make her better. I just wanted to make sure it stays this way. After sitting in the waiting room forever, Medical Tech Jane showed me to a comfy blue chair. Right away I inform her of my last experience; 'The last time I was here, I was poked and stabbed five million times. Each time they could not keep the blood they drained out of me, so they had to finally prick my middle finger and milk me as if I was a cow.' Jane reassured me that she would use a children's needle, 'the butterfly needle,' and that she would make this experience as pleasant as possible. Then, inappropriately, I mentioned that I could never be a heroin addict because my veins were terribly tiny and there would be no point to stab myself when I could snort it instead. Medical Tech Jane did not find this funny.

So, she got the rubber band and tied it to my upper right arm and told me to squeeze my hand. She was able to find a 'nice' vein, but to be safe, she moved over the left. Turns out, the left arm is the money arm because the vein in that arm was bulging. So, she went to get the needle, connected it to a straw that emptied into a vile. As she warned me that this was going to sting a bit, she injected the butterfly needle into my arm. Now, apparently, most people, when being injected with a needle look the other way. Did I? OH HELL NO! As Jane sits there, draining my blood, she noticed that I was watching. She said, 'OH my. You are watching this! Most people turn their heads.' Me: 'Yea. What's the problem?' Jane: 'You're a freak.' Me: "Um, thanks?'

That's right. The nurse draining my blood called me a freak!! At least she was not afraid to admit to my face, because, most people have called me a freak but in a more politically correct way, using words like 'unique' and 'different.' So, to the doctors and aides at Stettin Centre in Wausau, I am officially a freak because I watched myself get stabbed by a needle and witnessed my blood being drained into two tubes for testing. If I was a girl scout still, and every time I was called weird, a freak, unique, or different, I would need at least four sashes for all those 'freak patches' I have acquired over the years.

Conspiracies

2009-10-12T19:37:00.003-05:00

Sometimes Americans cannot accept cold-hard facts. Instead, they advert to a state of denial. Allow me to elaborate. Tupac Shakur was killed by a hail of bullets, discharged from unknown killer's gun at some intersection one evening LA. He's dead, period. And yet, every four or five years he seems to come out with a new single or CD. These unpublished songs have convinced the weirdos of America, those who affectionately believe in conspiracy theories, that he is indeed alive, living in some obscure existence.

But the number one conspiracy theory, the one that has the most devoted television time sometime around November, is the mystery surrounding the JFK assassination. Although the Warren Report, after much research and reenactments, declared Lee Harvey Oswald alone killed Kennedy, many believe otherwise. Some believe that the FBI did as a cover up for the Cubans. Others believe the Cubans did it. My personal favorite is the mob conspiracy (it does give Jack Ruby a M.O. to shoot Oswald grosse point blank). All could be right IF PROVEN SO, but you can't. One has to make believe these things in order to convince others that this could happen.

Today, I had lunch with some family friends. The youngest child, who was not present, is a sophomore at my much-despised alma mater, DCE High. If you are a smarty arty in history, then you probably take the honors track. So, sophomore year, you take a course called 'American Seminar.' This class is taught by the same two goons who have been teaching this class since the 80s. AND! These two goons have not changed their course topics since before the fall of the Berlin Wall!! Basically, this girl is taking the same course as I did when I was her age. The first part of the semester, comprising of half of the semester, is learning to write a research paper. The topic: the JFK assassination. I mean, if you have been teaching this course for twenty some years, you would think by now you would change up the game here. These two teachers have probably read every known conspiracy theory written that they must be bored of the topic. That or they are extremely lazy to change it (which means this girl will doing a presentation about the Vietnam War followed by the dreaded history day exhibit. The latter is a joke to all history classes simply for the fact that, when I competed, not one judge knew the significance of Charlie Chaplin on the US film industry. Yes, I am fully aware that this town is not the smartest place in the world).

ANYWAY, upon hearing that the topic of research paper conversation has not changed, my eyes probably bugged out my head. Like I said above, how could someone read all the conspiracy theories? How could you sit there while some 15 year old is trying to argue why THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED? Yes, the writing could be convincing, but the facts are complete fiction. So, I told the girl's old sister the following: Tell your sister to drop her topic and say some disgruntled monkeys from the Dallas Zoo shot JFK. Come on. It is as credible as the Cubans infiltrating Dallas, getting a gun at some expo, putting on a cowboy hat to blend in, and popping the president as he cruised through Dealey Plaza. All you got to do is convince the teacher that this happened.

You see America loves a conspiracy theory because they will not come to term with the actuality. This constant state of denial is numbing and quite-frankly stupid. So, until then, I stand by convictions: JFK was killed by a gang of monkeys who escaped from the zoo. They were treated cruelly, so they overtook their trainer by hanging him from the trees in their pen. After they escaped, they took to the streets. Upon seeing people and police crowded in the streets, they panicked fearing they would have to be deported. So, they wrestled a cop down to the ground, taking his gun. As the cop and monkeys fought over the loaded gun, it accidentally discharged. The bullet's projected path hit JFK in the shoulder, then his head. Now, who would not want to believe that conspiracy theory!! It is about as dumb as the other ones!

What My Feet Remembered.....

2009-10-06T16:21:00.002-05:00

Ah. Nothing screams 'America' like getting behind the wheel of a car. You do not have to rely on some public transportation device, but instead can get yourself from point a to point b in the most efficient way possible. You can go from doorstep to doorstep, versus train station to train station with the additional transportation to and from the train station. Independence is its motto and the American Dream is its cry. The car is your kingdom and the rest are just suckers starving for that attention.

But I hate driving. After experiencing break downs and a fire, I reached my limit when it comes to driving. Luckily, I will no longer drive that black coffin of death (i.e. my old car that my mother drives now) again! Today was my long overdue haircut appointment. If this was England, I would have walked to the salon instead of driving or taking the bus, crappy day or not. You see, Bristol was so congested that a car was not needed. Everything is in walking distance if you live near the center. Even though I walked up steep hills and marched back down them, the concept of time completely changes. For example, to walk to my friend Femke's flat, it would take about 40 minutes to get there (10 by car). Why? Because I had to hike up Park St Hill and wind in and out of various streets affectionately called 'shortcuts.' Once thing America takes for granted is the grid system. Originally designed and conceived by Tsar Peter the Great, he built his great city, St Petersburg, based on a square by square planning where streets would intersect at ninety degree angles. Pretty revolutionary and ground breaking for 18th century urban planning. England, on the other hand, most of the cities had been around before the invention of the car or carriage. Streets were only wide enough for a wheelbarrow to navigate through them. So, when the car came along, it was difficult to accommodate. Sure, roads have become somewhat wider, but it is not enough. Nothing screams fun as a taxi cab drives 40MPH down a road that has been cut to ONE LANE because the farmers on both sides of the road refused to give up their land to make the road wider.

If that was not enough, England and America, as stated numerous times, have this ongoing war of the meaningless, and one battle that they are still fighting is where the driver shall sit in the car. In America, the driver is on the left; England is the right. Most of the time, when I had the luxury of riding in a car, I would without fail follow the driver to his side of the car, which is normally the passenger side in my world. When they realized their personal bubble was being attacked, they would turn around and ask, 'What are you doing?' 'Oh yeah, that's right. You drive on the right side.' And then I would proceed to go around the car to the passenger side. Only England and its former colonies abide by this driving principle, the rest not so much. But, in England's defense, on major road ways or tourist spot, if you are walking, on the ground painted in bold letters will be either 'LOOK RIGHT/LEFT' That way, there will not be a lawsuit on somebody's hands. Top marks!

So, today, as the rain poured (love that irony. England weeps while Wausau mocks me....and it is only day two!), I got behind the wheel of my sister's car. My fear is that I would look right first at an intersection, begin to pull out before being T-Boned by some car approaching from the left. Luckily, I trained myself to look right-left-right, that way I will be completely startled instead of heading off in an ambulance somewhere. I must admit, everything went really smoothly. There were hardly any cars on the road, and one jerk-off that cut me off got what he deserved: the middle finger and a curse. But the biggest thing was how patient I was. In the past, I have had some sort of road rage, speeding seven miles per hour over the speed limit fearing I would miss my appointment of sorts. Now, not so much. I go the speed limit and that is fast enough for me. Walking to a destination, a foreign concept in the city of Wausau, is much more stressful. And depending on the day, you would break out into a sweat, which is not the best look on anyone as they hurry to meet up with a friend or boss or adviser. Plus the panting because that hill you just marched up was extremely steep. I mean, no matter how fast you would walk, you would be bound to be late from that appointment.

Although today went smoothly, I may not return to this way of life for a while. Maybe it was because I got extreme motion sickness within five minutes of my drive back to Wausau from Chicago. Readjusting to this sort of speed is taking a toll on my stomach and head, but it is another slow process I must get used to.

Greetings from Wausau

2009-10-05T18:21:00.002-05:00

After two days of traveling, I have finally unpacked my bags and settled into my parent's house....again. And boy, did I pick the WORST weekend to return. No, it was not the flight. Not customs and my ongoing battle with Chicago and its disgrace of an airport, O'Hare (Current score: Chicago 5, Christina 0). Not even experiencing stomach sickness as my diet returns to an American one (i.e. unhealthy). Today is Monday Night Football. The teams: the homeboys of Green Bay versus the queer Vi-queens (it is really Vikings, but that purple is not fooling anyone). Now, this game is the first meeting of the two teams. Arch-enemies since the Vikings came into being, The Packers will be traveling to Minnesota to play at the Metrodome. It's not a pretty place, but hey, they are currently building a new stadium as we speak. And I hear there will be no roof. Risky Minnesotah, Risky.

Now, for years, Minnesota and Wisconsin have an unhealthy rivalry, where sometimes friendships end by a decision of a game, season, player's career, etc.... No matter the sport, whether it is college or professional, both states are at each other's throats. Can be a pretty gruesome at times, and I am surprised my ego has survived intact and unscathed.

So, why is this Monday Night Football so special. Well, it is all because of Brett Farve. People from the States understand, and depending on which side of the divide you lie, you are either taunting or fire is bursting forth from your ears because you are teaming mad. The golden boy Farve, for those reading this overseas, was the Green Bay Packers' starting QB since the early 90s. For some sixteen/seventeen years, he carried the team. Then, two years ago he went into retirement, but came out of retirement three months later to play for the Jets. After that season, he went back into retirement (2009). Once again, that did not last. And this time, he pulled off a move so foul that everyone in Wisconsin wants him dead. He sold his soul to the purple and gold, and now, the two teams are meeting TONIGHT.

Your hero is trying not to get involved. After living aboard for a year, I have become every subdued, not really caring what happens; it is only a game after all. And all was going to plan, until my mother, in line to inherit her father's season tickets at Lambeau Field (this is another story within itself), began yelling. Spotting a man pumping gas on Wisconsin soil, he happened to be wearing in a Vikings jersey. You know what she said. She told me to shoot the poor fella. With my eyes bugging out of my head, I responded, 'I don't have a gun.' Then, she proceded to make a gun with her fingers and pulled the trigger. Five bucks says she was not the only person thinking this. Every comment my mother made about Farve made her ooze disdain from every pores. In vain, I am hoping not to become contaminated. My father, so anxious and nervous for the game, is avoiding it. He is afraid to watch the outcome and would rather hide from football. I must say, I am grateful to be jet-lagged still. This way, I can go to bed quite early and miss this whole ordeal in the hopes the ladies at the hair salon tomorrow will not get too gossipy. More than likely, it will revolve around Edgar football and some other town gossip.

Bottom Line: Can't we all just get along?

The Shockwave Aftermath

2009-10-02T11:39:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, I will land in Chicago. Founded in the 1860s, it quickly grew before Miss O'Leary's cow became the stuff of legends. As the story goes, it appeared the cow got a little disgruntled, knocking over a lantern, and setting ablaze not only the barn but the entire city in 1871. But the city you see today was extremely small in comparison. By 1881, when St Louis made the biggest mistake of its business and socio-economic life, Chicago became the home of the railroads, connecting the east and west. Conveniently situated on Lake Michigan, boats still could have been used to transport goods to the Atlantic. Over the span of twenty years, the city boomed, tripling in population. The poor and immigrants migrated here to find their milk and honey, and along with it came corruption, deceit, and murder. Even its nickname, the Windy City, got its name from politics. Sure, the wind tunnels create a mighty gust throughout the streets dominated by high rises, but that is not the reason. It is not even the fact the winters can be icy cold at times. No, back in 1889, when the World's Fair was the attraction of the world, it was Chicago, who on the heels of the Paris World's Fair Exhibition, wanted to show off its assets. Politicians gave 'winded' speeches day in and out to prove that Chicago was the finest American city that gained the most during the Industrial Revolution, and guaranteed to show the most spectacular fair the world has ever seen. Well, after months of exhausted promotion, the city got its way and America changed.

It temporarily cleaned up its act in the 1900s. Thanks to Upton Sinclair's undercover investigation of the meat-packaging industry and slaughterhouses, The Jungle stunned America and created the FDA under the Roosevelt administration. Alas though, it was short lived. Corruption still ran high among the cops, and fixed votes at the polls automatically decided who would win before the election even began. During the Prohibition era, it became the capital of the mob, shuttling liquor across the state lines. Bugsy and Capone thrived as the Italian mob took off, making the city its capital destination of crime, booze, sex, and scandal. Corruption within the police ran rampant. The thirties gave way to bank robberies, as Chicago became a famous hideout for the Dillinger and Barker gangs. When the FBI set up shop during the Depression, and although it took some time, crime slowly diminished.

Since then, Chicago faded from view. When the automobile became popular, allowing Americans to become more independent, everyone packed up their Fords and Chevys to move West. And thus, the sun set on the epoch of railroads and Chicago, but the impact has left its legacy. It is now the third largest city in the United States as it slowly becomes a suburbanized. Most comedians like Tina Fey, Chris Farrell, Steve Carrell and Stephen Colbert all got their start at Second City Comedy Club. The John Hughes films of the 80s put Chicago on the map for the film industry. Michael Jordan captivated America as the Bulls won every Championship (nearly) Series in the 1990s. One of the oldest baseball clubs, the Cubs, still play on their original field, even though you can hear a collective, northern-situated cry of despair and agony from the blue bloods at the end of each season. Business still thrives as Chicago not only depends on water and rail, but air and interstate, even though the latter two are in need of improvement. The stretch of I94 running through downtown is a parking lot, while Chicago-O'Hare is the 2nd worst airport in America. And I fly into that tomorrow.

Most recently, Chicago came into the spotlight for one reason: Oprah. Since the 1980s, Oprah and Harpo Studios have claimed residency in the Windy City. Her show is the most influential show on daytime television, and is currently the number one show still in syndication. She has put her stamp on everything, and women across the states obey everything she says. Her influence has even spawned a conspiracy theory: that she herself created a robot and named him Barack Obama. A popular State Senator, representing the most dire and difficult district in the inner city of Chicago, he quickly became popular after delivering a speech at the 2004 DNC. His success won him the senate on Capitol Hill. Four years later, he found himself the first African American president of the United States. Now, as he cleans up the legacy of the Bush administration, he has remained popular throughout the world. They see him as a beacon of hope, while Americans are still holding their breathes, hoping he does not turn into every other president.

Recently, he has taken time off to rule America to focus on an utmost political agenda: the selection of Chicago for the 2016 Olympics. He picked up on Oprah's trail, and together, with his wife Michelle, campaigned fiercely these past weeks. Of course, whatever Oprah says, housewives will follow. Shirts were made, signs posted all over Chicago hoping to win support of the IOC members. Its proposal was even favorable and efficient enough to host the games in a city whose eastern border is a lake. Millions of dollars were invested in the marketing and advertising campaign leading up to the IOCs final vote. Where they got all that money during an economic recession, I do not know. And everything looked like it was going according to plan. That is, until Friday.

In a shocking twist of events, Chicago found itself quickly axed after the first round of voting. They cited Obama's late campaigning (i.e. flying into Copenhagen just hours before the vote) somewhat insulting. If he wanted the bid so bad, he would have jumped on the bandwagon long ago. The crowds in Daley Plaza were left stunned. As images come in from the AP, the major blow has citizens even saying this is one of the saddest things that has happened to the city. And you would think they would be used to the heartbreak by now?

As I fly in the day after, there will be no celebration in Chi-town. Another blow to the city's reputation, it will be silently weeping, declaring life is not fair. Meanwhile, Rio De Janeiro, the triumphant city will be partying into the wee hours of the morning before it has the major task of cleaning up its city. Although Chicago would have been 'safe,' Rio has seven years to entice visitors to its largest city. Everyone forgets how dangerous it is to walk on the beach, where gangs claim turf as their own while pickpocketing tourists. Drugs still run rampant, creating lords out of the uneducated. It will have to take a massive sheet to cover these degraded, run-down, make-shift huts in order to appeal to international visitors. Something they always leave out of the tour brouchures. If you find yourself disagreeing with my strong statements, just rent CITY OF GOD and you will get my point.

So, Chicago's day in the sun has faded. Its hopes dashed as it was snubbed by the IOC, but like its Cub Nation, they will dust it off and move on. It's a part of their way of life. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

The Re-Americanization of Christina Freiberg

2009-09-30T06:33:00.000-05:00

Inspired by Bill Bryson's Notes from the Big Country, Christina Freiberg is about to re-enter the American zone of the North American continent. After a year of studies and adventures throughout Europe, her visa has expired. That and Bristol hierarchy of job employment goes as follows:
1) UK citizen
2) EU citizen
3) UK terrorities
4) Immigrants who have naturalized parents or relatives indigenious to the UK
5) Former UK colonies (i.e. India, Sri Lanka, South Africa, etc...)
6) Your pet goldfish
7) Uneducated blokes
8) The Rest of the World not already mentioned except....
9) Americans

It's like they still hold a grudge for losing that war so many years back. Gosh, get over yourselves. Anyway, since I am the newly appointed Madame President of America (inside story), ruling from aboard is never the best intention. You remember your history books? 'No taxation without representation' ring a bell.

As I leave behind my legacy to open a new chapter, I have managed to take with me the interesting quirks, lexicons, habits, and other random tidbits that I have incorporated into my already unusual behavior. I might talk with an accent or refer to a soccer field as a pitch; you never know. But, this has a downside. For you see, my re-americanization process will occur in the most narrow-minded place in Wisconsin: Wausau.
Wausau is a pecuilar place where the only people who settle there are the people who were born there. Basically, Wausau breds Wausau, and I am convinced that it is one step away from imbreding cousins. At the humble age of fourteen, my father was transferred from his job in Washington state to this north central location. And since moving from the Evergreen State, my life has been very unstable. To this day, the only place that can claim me as a citizen for ten years in Longview, Washington. The other locations since then do not even make it to five years, with Wausau and St Paul, MN tying at four years. And since I was thrown into a junior high, in 9th grade out of all years, I have never felt comfortable in the RSW area. Even today, I will experience high anxiety attacks and deep depression if sequestered long enough, gradually becoming extremely introverted, rarely communicating with anyone besdies my family. My high school experience was not the best either, and subsequently 80% has been long forgotten, only kept in the dark corridors of my mind.

Now, at the age of 26, I will be moving back to this interesting place. Just in time for another cold winter. Lucky me, huh? I have given myself until Christmas to figure out my next trail to walk down along this metaphorical path called life. As I try to find a couple of seasonal jobs to help pay off some loans and offer individual financial support, the next two months will be interesting. No doubt I will hear the phrase (again) 'you talk funny' or 'you have an accent.' As I return to the seclusion of my parent's house, fearing to leave its walls, it will give me time to reflect on everything that I have done and everything that I will do.

So, this blog will (like the academic approach) chronicle my 're-americanization.' As I stop worrying about Arsenal and learn to love the Packers again, it will be devouted to the random adventures I will experience, my observations about America, and what the future might have in store for your hero. So, if you loved the now-debunked 'An American in Bristol,' then this blog will wet your appetite.

To conclude, Robert Frost once wrote, 'Two roads diverge in the woods, and I-I took the one less traveled by. And it has made all the difference.'