Hoof Print

Raven Woodlief

Raven Woodlief, Graphics Editor


My name is Raven Woodlief and I am the Graphics Editor for the Hoof Print. I am not a man, which is a common mistake that people seem to make upon meeting me. I guess it’s because of the short hair, deep-ish voice, and the stunning jawline. I’ve also been told by one of my close friends and Ola High School graduate, Brian Adams, that when I laugh I “look like a skeleton.” I was told that while laughing at my own joke at a football game. Ironically, I find sports to be one of the most mind-numbing activities to view and I’m not really sure why they get so much hype. I do love drama, though. The stage is a magical place; one where edgy jokes, crude humor, and whimsical musical numbers seem to happen in great surplus. I am an active member of the thespian troupe here at Ola and have found my own way as an officer, the secretary, of said troupe. What’s really funny about that is that my handwriting is atrocious so most of the time I find myself orally reviewing my notes, if possible (sometimes I, myself, can’t even read them). I figure though that in this modern age of sleek technology and the expectation that papers be typed and printed saving me and my teachers from my handwriting.

I like to think of myself as terminally pessimistic, which is like regular pessimistic, but better and more permanent. An example of this is my Bird Poop Theory: I believe that everyone gets pooped on by a bird a least one time in their life. You may be saying “I know plenty of people who haven’t been pooped on by a bird!” However, they are just the sunshine and rainbows type of people who skip around with their loud optimism, people who would never get pooped on by a bird. Maybe they just avoid beaches. Either way, you have people like me: the ones who get pooped on by anything. While I myself have not yet been pooped on I know it will happen, and I know that it will happen more than once. You see, the sunshine and rainbows group still are allotted one bird poop, it’s just been assigned to the people like me who already have their own bird poop to deal with. I have to make up for the fact that they will never experience the great tragedy of a fresh, white, runny hell of bird poop.

With that said I would also like to go ahead and go over my other beliefs: Love isn’t real (all it is is dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin), Coke is one of the greatest substances on this planet, and probably others, luck is just fantastical statistics, Sun, Moon, and Sloth bears are the greatest creatures to inhabit the planet (and I don’t know why people have chosen to make them endangered in the least majestic way possible: using their gallbladders for magic), modern art is the epitome of a lack of talent being confused for talent because of some kind of seemingly deep explanation, and that comedy is the high point of human artistry. After all that I know you’re either thinking ‘wow this Raven kid is pretty neat-o’ or ‘wow this Raven kid is actually, literally, and diagnosably insane.’ Both of those statements are probably right.

Most people like to talk about the stuff they like when introducing themselves, but not me. No, we’re going to talk about the things that I don't like. I really don’t like anyone that is super-anything. By that I mean I don’t like people that are in-your-face atheists, or Christians, or athletes, or democrats, or stupid, or republicans. I really hate when people are trying so hard to be something that they won’t hear anything about anything else. I think political parties, at least the two party system, is dumb and I don’t like it. It leaves politics stuck in a flip-flop between two political extremes. Celery is a horrifying vegetable that is merely crunchy water and should be eliminated from the planet along with its other flavorless companion: watermelon. While we're on the topic of horrifying organics, I personally feel that squash is some kind of punishment from a non-existent higher power. I also think that that same fantastically imaginary almighty decided that indulging in such lustful sin as eating Doritos needed an appropriately opposite torture and thus decided a worthy punishment would be to coat the perpetrators hands in a recognizable orange dust from hell. Grimy and lightly cheese flavored, there are only two ways to remove Dorito dust: lick them off (something that is heinous for the committer and some form of torture for anyone who might be subjected to viewing such horrors) or to find a nearby bucket of HCL, which would, hopefully, remove the dust.

As you may remember reading at the beginning of this cluster-schmuck of an article, I am the Graphics Editor. What does that mean? I do all of the graphics you see in the paper. How did I just segway from the best ways to remove Dorito dust to talking about news visuals? Like this: I’m really into art and so I happen to do art. Most of the graphics you might see in the paper are done digitally. That simply means I draw onto a tablet that conveys the gestures into my computer so that I can create drawings that can be easily transferred into the paper. Part of my job entails making graphics, graphics of the informational variety, political cartoons, and other visual assistants, but it also entails taking the really heinous designs that my friends make and then making them less awful. Sorry, guys, but really.

Get ready because you’re about to jump onto the Completely-New-Topic-Bus!

I want to be some kind of comedian someday, which is why I find myself writing this much-too-long bio for the newspaper website. What happened with this, as I’m sure you’re seeking some kind of explanation at this point, is that our Page Design Editor, Taylor Watkins, was being difficult when I was asking about what to include in my bio so I decided to spitefully write several pages worth of biographic material so that she a) has to read it and b) has to edit it. What does that have to do with me wanting to be a comedian? Not much. It’s more of an example of how far I am willing to go for a stupid joke like this. I really love comedy. Making people laugh and having fun are quite pleasant, as I would assume you know. If you don’t know that I’m really not sure why you’re still reading this bio. Maybe this has helped you grow a sense of humor. If not, props to you for reading endless lines of what must be your personal hell. Regardless, I plan on moving to Chicago, Illinois upon my graduation to attend college for art. I know, I can’t wait to be poor. I have the statistically worst careers picked out. Every art degree comes with a free cardboard box to decorate and live in! I really don’t know why art, theatre, and comedy get so much flak. I don’t. What would we be without art? Horribly deformed, probably. Without comedy we would be sniveling, shriveling, snotty masses of gelatinous melancholy (most likely.) Without theatre? Hunchbacked, stuttering, cross-eyed, scaley lizard people, Maybe? You know that dumb post you’ve seen on every white girl’s Instagram that says “Earth without art is just Eh?” Well I hate that post but it’s right. Except I strongly prefer ‘meh’ to ‘eh,’ Which is beside the point. Well earth without comedy is just ‘arth minus comedy’ and that’s how I feel about the whole mess.

How about this weather we’re having right?

You see, I said I would write four pages, and really I’m tired, it’s a Thursday, and I just did my color plate for anatomy. It was the one on the Integumentary System for those of you who were wondering. Regardless, I think I have fatigued myself enough that I may have to submit to only three pages worth of nonsense. Which will bring us to our next point:

High school is so much harder than it used to be. I’m a thespian who has two shows going on right now, senior directed one acts that I am going to act in, a senior directed one act that I wrote, Spell Czech, and am going to direct despite not being a senior, being a member of the mock trial team, being in the Hoof Print, and then finally topping it all off with all honors and AP classes, including art. In short, I am a very busy person. My dad recently referred to me as his “little workaholic.” I am at school for a minimum of twelve hours a day and then come home and fall asleep doing homework. What I really don’t get, though, is that colleges expect a ridiculous amount. On top of all of that that I’m doing colleges still want ACT or SAT scores and they want community service, and then they also want to see that you’ve taken a wide variety of classes while also somehow maintaining the ability to be in the same classes for as many years as possible. They really need to make up their mind. Honestly.

This is it. We’ve reached the third page and I’m sure by the time I finish this horrifying and messy rant I will be halfway down, which counts as good as a whole page to me. Here we are, having finished it. Me having written this monstrosity, and you having tried to read it. Goodbye my now dear and close personal friend, may we part ways and not shed too many tears. Now you know my innermost annoyances and weird thing for bears. Here we stand, though, farewell and goodbye.

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Raven Woodlief