Among The Woo People

In the mid-nineties, Russell Frank left a peaceful life in rural California to raise three kids in a town saturated with fraternities, late-night undergrad fast food haunts, and rowdy football crowds. Among the Woo People recounts his two decades living—and surviving—in State College, Pennsylvania, the often-chaotic home of Penn State University. This humorous peek at life in a college town smack-dab in the middle of rural Pennsylvania chronicles a changing community over the course of two eventful decades. A professor of journalism, former columnist for the Centre Daily Times, and contributor to StateCollege.com, Frank has a unique perspective on living in the shadow of a university—especially on the tribe of nomadic young adults known as the “Woo people,” so named for their signature mode of celebratory communication. He invites readers into the routines of his hectic household as they embrace their new home, skewers the culture of intercollegiate sports, relates the challenges and peculiarities of teaching at one of the nation’s largest universities, and, most important, teaches us to be amused at college-kid antics and to appreciate their academic and real-world accomplishments, even as we anxiously tick off the days until semester’s end. From tales of missing porch furniture and red plastic cups in the bushes to a “Nude Year’s Eve” run by an octet of forty-somethings to the sweet relief of summer, Frank’s hilarious, insightful essays are indispensable for anyone who wants to survive, appreciate, and enjoy college-town life.

In the mid-nineties, Russell Frank left a peaceful life in rural California to raise three kids in a town saturated with fraternities, late-night undergrad fast food haunts, and rowdy football crowds. Among the Woo People recounts his two decades living—and surviving—in State College, Pennsylvania, the often-chaotic home of Penn State University. This humorous peek at life in a college town smack-dab in the middle of rural Pennsylvania chronicles a changing community over the course of two eventful decades. A professor of journalism, former columnist for the Centre Daily Times, and contributor to StateCollege.com, Frank has a unique perspective on living in the shadow of a university—especially on the tribe of nomadic young adults known as the “Woo people,” so named for their signature mode of celebratory communication. He invites readers into the routines of his hectic household as they embrace their new home, skewers the culture of intercollegiate sports, relates the challenges and peculiarities of teaching at one of the nation’s largest universities, and, most important, teaches us to be amused at college-kid antics and to appreciate their academic and real-world accomplishments, even as we anxiously tick off the days until semester’s end. From tales of missing porch furniture and red plastic cups in the bushes to a “Nude Year’s Eve” run by an octet of forty-somethings to the sweet relief of summer, Frank’s hilarious, insightful essays are indispensable for anyone who wants to survive, appreciate, and enjoy college-town life.

"Comic book superheroes, fantasy kingdoms, and futuristic starships have become inescapable features of today's pop-culture landscape, and the people we used to deride as "nerds" or "geeks" have ridden their popularity and visibility to mainstream recognition. It seems it's finally hip to be square. Yet these conventionalized representations of geek culture typically ignore the real people who have invested time and resources to make it what it is. Getting a Life recentres our understanding of geek culture on the everyday lives of its participants, drawing on fieldwork in comic book shops, game stores, and conventions, including in-depth interviews with ordinary members of the overlapping communities of fans and enthusiasts. Benjamin Woo shows how geek culture is a set of interconnected social practices that are associated with popular media. He argues that typical depictions of mass-mediated entertainment as something that isolates and pacifies its audiences are flawed because they do not account for the conversations, relationships, communities, and identities that are created by engaging with the products of mass culture. Getting a Life combines engaging interview material with lucid interpretation and a clear, interdisciplinary framework. The volume is both an accessible introduction to this contemporary subculture and an exploration of the ethical possibilities of a life lived with media.

In this jaw-dropping, darkly comedic memoir, a young woman comes of age in a dysfunctional Asian family whose members blamed their woes on ghosts and demons when in fact they should have been on anti-psychotic meds. Lindsay Wong grew up with a paranoid schizophrenic grandmother and a mother who was deeply afraid of the “woo-woo”—Chinese ghosts who come to visit in times of personal turmoil. From a young age, she witnessed the woo-woo’s sinister effects; at the age of six, she found herself living in the food court of her suburban mall, which her mother saw as a safe haven because they could hide there from dead people, and on a camping trip, her mother tried to light Lindsay’s foot on fire to rid her of the woo-woo. The eccentricities take a dark turn, however, when her aunt, suffering from a psychotic breakdown, holds the city of Vancouver hostage for eight hours when she threatens to jump off a bridge. And when Lindsay herself starts to experience symptoms of the woo-woo herself, she wonders whether she will suffer the same fate as her family. On one hand a witty and touching memoir about the Asian immigrant experience, and on the other a harrowing and honest depiction of the vagaries of mental illness, The Woo-Woo is a gut-wrenching and beguiling manual for surviving family, and oneself. This publication meets the EPUB Accessibility requirements and it also meets the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG-AA). It is screen-reader friendly and is accessible to persons with disabilities. A Simple book with few images, which is defined with accessible structural markup. This book contains various accessibility features such as alternative text for images, table of contents, page-list, landmark, reading order and semantic structure.

In 2017, Anne Bokma embarked on a quest to become a more spiritual person. After leaving the fundamentalist religion of her youth, she became one of the eighty million North Americans who consider themselves spiritual-but-not-religious, the fastest growing “faith” category. In mid-life she found herself addicted to busyness, drinking too much, hooked on social media, dreading the empty nest and still struggling with alienation from her ultra-religious family. In response, she set out on a year-long whirlwind adventure to immerse herself in a variety of sacred practices—each of which proved to be illuminating in unexpected ways—to try to develop her own definition of what it means to be spiritual. In My Year of Living Spiritually, Bokma documents a diverse range of soulful first-person experiences—from taking a dip in Thoreau’s Walden Pond, to trying magic mushrooms for the first time, booking herself into a remote treehouse as an experiment in solitude, singing in a deathbed choir and enrolling in a week-long witch camp—in an entertaining and enlightening way that will compel readers (non-believers and believers alike) to try a few spiritual practices of their own. Along the way, she reconsiders key relationships in her life and begins to experience the greater depth of meaning, connection, gratitude, simplicity and inner peace that we all long for. Readers will find it an inspiring roadmap for their own spiritual journeys.

Explains that the selling of ideas is a matter of encouraging others to share one's beliefs in a guide for salespeople that invites readers to self-assess their persuasion personality and build on natural strengths.

When Maggie gets chopsticks, she has difficulty using them and everyone at the table seems to have a different advice on holding them.

Although Emily Carr is now considered a Canadian legend, the most enduring image is that of her pushing a beat-up old pram into downtown Victoria, loaded with dogs, cats, birds—and a monkey. Woo, a Javanese macaque whom Carr adopted in 1923, has become inextricably linked with Carr in the popular imagination. But more than that, in her short lifetime Woo became equally connected to Carr’s life and art. Born to a strictly religious family, Carr was never able to reconcile her wild and passionate nature with the stifling mores of the well-to-do Victorian society in which she was raised. Over the years, she increasingly turned to the company of animals to find the love and trust missing from her human relationships. Across the world in an Indonesian jungle lagoon, Woo (like Carr) was parted from her mother at a young age. The tiny ape with a “greeny-brown” pelt and penetrating golden eyes was then shipped across the world. When Carr spotted Woo in a pet store, she recognized a kindred spirit and took her home. Woo was many things to Carr—a surrogate daughter, a reflection of herself, a piece of the wild inside her downtown Victoria boarding house. Welcoming the mischievous Woo into her life, Carr also welcomed a freedom that allowed a full blooming of artistic expression and gave Canada and the world great art unlike any other before or since. However, despite Carr’s clear love for Woo, her chaotic life did not always allow Carr to properly care for her. Tragically, after Carr was hospitalized due to heart failure, she arranged for Woo to be sent to the Stanley Park Zoo. Bereft of Carr, Woo died alone in her cage only a year later. Hayter-Menzies approaches his subject from a contemporary perspective on bringing wild animals into captivity while remaining empathetic to the unique relationship between artist and monkey.