Currently Listening To: Not Fair by Lily Allen
Oh why hello there, blog. It has been quite a while.
I don't know whether it's been disinterest or business keeping me from updating my lil diary. Probably a little bit of both. Disinterest because I've become quite the little attention-deficit... dwarf. That's a good d-word. But yes, I've been well assimilated into the geezer's stereotype of the youtube generation of short attention spans... wait what. I mean seriously, I actually got distracted while typing this. Went to change the song on iTunes and lost my train of thought. Seriously?
Busy because, well, I tend to be doing shit this year a lot more than I have ever done in my entire life, like, combined. This college thing is working out quite well for me, if I do say so myself. While I may not always be galavanting around our nation's capital, I'm usually up to something. I've got a radio show (our last show of the year was tonight), I go to concerts a lot more than I used to, or I've got some scheme running... Three weeks ago I was trying to dye my hair with Kool Aid. That was quite an experiment, with many linens lost in battle. My green comforter has several red sploches on it.
In early March, my radio co-host Carrie and I begged for money to buy batwing hoodies from American Apparel. We put the change in a water-cooler jug and hauled all of this change down there. Paid in change! Poor Ralph Alston had to count out more than fifty bucks in coins. But I'll be damned if we didn't look trendy as hell.
I've really got little else to say, at least for now. Maybe I'll be struck with an inspirational burst sometime soon. Maybe?
Friday, April 24, 2009
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Resolve
Currently Listening To: In Step by Frankmusik
Last year I set out to make one-word titles for posts on here as much as possible. Of course, I subconsciously-simultaneously set out to post less, so see how that went. Hopefully this years resolutions will go better.
I was driving around last week, spending money I shouldn't have on things I don't need (stimulating the economy -- need to do less of that). I had taken my mom's Mustang out, because it's smaller and has the satellite radio, meaning I don't have to bring CDs and feed them in and out of the player. Except, now that Sirius has merged, they dropped a few channels I liked and muddied up the ones they kept, so I now pretty much only listen to BBC1, since it's unaffected. The host was talking about resolutions and said one of his was to learn to play the ukulele, which I decided was an awesome idea. I'm currently on the prowl for them, scoping out music stores when I drive and looking up prices online. I'd say this is my most-likely-to-succeed, I'd say.
in addition to wasting money less, I also need to find a job, both at school this semester and at home this summer. Ideally, I'd work at the Best Buy near campus, because that seems easy enough and that's where I waste the most money. Finding one on campus might be better, though; those seem to pay a bit above minimum wage, would look much better on a resume and would be more accomodating to my schedule, seeing as they wouldn't need me during the semester and on brakes, seeing as the student body, including myself, wouldn't be there. Yeah, that's probably the way to go.
A resolution that I've done before but will likely not follow through with is to stop washing my hair. It's really just an endurance test; how long before I become so disgusted with myself. I'm also going to grow my hair out, except that my understanding of... hair dictates that those two in combination will result in dreadlocks, and the washing will definitely re-commence at that point in time. Can I call not growing dreads a resolution? But I digress; not shampooing is being undertaken so I can style my hair without gel or hairspray, which I've very rarely done but now cannot do because of my eyebrow ring, and taken better care to clean that little bugger could be another resolution, but I really do need to do that and don't want to jinx it by putting it in bold.
Finally, I want to be more honest with people, and by that I mean be meaner to people. So instead of holding my tongue and abiding by the 'if you don't have anything nice to say' adage, I will tell people how I really feel. There's nothing wrong with this ideology; if anything, there's something wrong with being 'fake' and doing the smile and nod. Of course, I don't really believe that. I just want to be meaner to people.
So that's that. Any suggestions/one-ups? I'm always open to additional resolutions.
Last year I set out to make one-word titles for posts on here as much as possible. Of course, I subconsciously-simultaneously set out to post less, so see how that went. Hopefully this years resolutions will go better.
I was driving around last week, spending money I shouldn't have on things I don't need (stimulating the economy -- need to do less of that). I had taken my mom's Mustang out, because it's smaller and has the satellite radio, meaning I don't have to bring CDs and feed them in and out of the player. Except, now that Sirius has merged, they dropped a few channels I liked and muddied up the ones they kept, so I now pretty much only listen to BBC1, since it's unaffected. The host was talking about resolutions and said one of his was to learn to play the ukulele, which I decided was an awesome idea. I'm currently on the prowl for them, scoping out music stores when I drive and looking up prices online. I'd say this is my most-likely-to-succeed, I'd say.
in addition to wasting money less, I also need to find a job, both at school this semester and at home this summer. Ideally, I'd work at the Best Buy near campus, because that seems easy enough and that's where I waste the most money. Finding one on campus might be better, though; those seem to pay a bit above minimum wage, would look much better on a resume and would be more accomodating to my schedule, seeing as they wouldn't need me during the semester and on brakes, seeing as the student body, including myself, wouldn't be there. Yeah, that's probably the way to go.
A resolution that I've done before but will likely not follow through with is to stop washing my hair. It's really just an endurance test; how long before I become so disgusted with myself. I'm also going to grow my hair out, except that my understanding of... hair dictates that those two in combination will result in dreadlocks, and the washing will definitely re-commence at that point in time. Can I call not growing dreads a resolution? But I digress; not shampooing is being undertaken so I can style my hair without gel or hairspray, which I've very rarely done but now cannot do because of my eyebrow ring, and taken better care to clean that little bugger could be another resolution, but I really do need to do that and don't want to jinx it by putting it in bold.
Finally, I want to be more honest with people, and by that I mean be meaner to people. So instead of holding my tongue and abiding by the 'if you don't have anything nice to say' adage, I will tell people how I really feel. There's nothing wrong with this ideology; if anything, there's something wrong with being 'fake' and doing the smile and nod. Of course, I don't really believe that. I just want to be meaner to people.
So that's that. Any suggestions/one-ups? I'm always open to additional resolutions.
Monday, December 29, 2008
2008 Retrospective
Currently Listening To: The Kingdom, dir. by Peter Berg (no, I'm not really that pretentious but my brother and I were talking about the director so... suck it)
Now is typically the time for top-ten lists, but I can't find a broad enough topic to suit my needs, so I'm just going to list things, positive and negative, that relate to my general thoughts about the year
Now is typically the time for top-ten lists, but I can't find a broad enough topic to suit my needs, so I'm just going to list things, positive and negative, that relate to my general thoughts about the year
- Vampire Weekend is complete and utter shite and "if I could track down every copy of that album and smash it with a Viking warhammer...", to quote a great man (i.e., me). My dad asked me if I had heard of them tonight and I immediately clenched the armrests of my chair, turned my head and inhaled. I don't know what it is about this crappy 2008-version-of-Arctic-Monkeys -- WAIT, that's it. They're this years Arctic Monkeys. It's pure yuppie chow. Not really anything exciting, but everyone loves them and loves introducing them to people.
- If I read another Top 10 list describing M.I.A. as a breakout artist or Paper Planes as a new song, I will fucking snap. Arular was released four years ago, and that album got about the same initial promotion as Kala, which came out almost two years ago. Not new, people were just out of the loop. For fucks sake, she retired in the spring, before everyone (the ominous 'everyone', here meaning mainstream radio/music) was singing "I fly like paper".
- Coldplay. No one says they're new, so that's not my complaint. My complaint is really just that I HEAR SO FUCKING MUCH ABOUT THEM AND DESPITE MY EFFORTS, I COULDN'T GIVE FEWER SHITS. Violet Hill is a good song. I will concede that much. But THEY ARE FUCKING EVERYWHERE AND NO ONE SHOULD BE EVERYWHERE.
- The fact that all of this is just me saying "I don't know why but..." is problematic and highlights my inability to argue.
- I FUCKING LOVE HULU. Thanks be to God, Jesus, Moses, Mohammed and whoever else for this magical website. I watch shit all the time on there: Family Guy clips, Simpsons episodes, movies (Go being the latest; how did I turn my nose at that the first time I watched it?)
- College... I'm glad they invented that this year. I mean, I assume it's new. First time I've ever been, so it must be new.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The Girl From Twilight
Currently Listening To: Human by The Killers
So Twilight is the bee's knees these days, and now Kristen Stewart is on the cover of magazines and shit. People worship her. But my animosity for this hype machine aside, where have all these worshipers been? I had the biggest fuckin' crush on this girl when I was eleven... I saw Panic Room with my dad and brother and I was just like, "Hey... this girl is kind of cool. Wow, I have a penis," and from there, I don't even know. I kind of forgot about her... well, I straight up forgot about her, except when I watched Panic Room (which I used to do a lot), and now, everyone else is such a big fuckin' fan of this "star on the rise"... BITCHES I GOT MY FIRST CHUBBY TO THIS GIRL. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?
Let me just re-iterate that I was eleven at the time, as was she, so this was wholly kosher
So Twilight is the bee's knees these days, and now Kristen Stewart is on the cover of magazines and shit. People worship her. But my animosity for this hype machine aside, where have all these worshipers been? I had the biggest fuckin' crush on this girl when I was eleven... I saw Panic Room with my dad and brother and I was just like, "Hey... this girl is kind of cool. Wow, I have a penis," and from there, I don't even know. I kind of forgot about her... well, I straight up forgot about her, except when I watched Panic Room (which I used to do a lot), and now, everyone else is such a big fuckin' fan of this "star on the rise"... BITCHES I GOT MY FIRST CHUBBY TO THIS GIRL. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?
Let me just re-iterate that I was eleven at the time, as was she, so this was wholly kosher
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
No Title Necessary
Currently Listening To: The ecstatic shouting in the street
There's really nothing to say that hasn't already been said, but that doesn't mean I won't say it anyway.
This was the first election I voted in. My vote may not have counted (at least according to my understanding of how they deal with absentee ballots), but at the same time I am so proud to have been a part of this. At the start, I'll admit, I was nervous as I colored in each state on my crafty-fuckin' electoral map. 3-8 wasn't looking so hot. But by the time California came in, and we were sitting in that huge crowd in the Tavern on campus... I can't articulate how I felt. To be a part of something big, not only in that I voted for the guy, but also living out a night that my kids will one day ask me about. One of those days where you never forget where you were when it happened.
From there, we went down to the White House with the hopes of finding people celebrating (we did). The METRO ride downtown was even more exhilarating than the Tavern. Shouting, climbing on the poles... it was madness and yet no one said so much as a word about "proper metro etiquette".
Down at the White House (Barack's house), it was like a concert except there were no douchebags elbowing you in the stomach. Just people revelling in what they're experiencing.
It may be childish, but I'm really hoping at least one of the photographers who stole my soul this evening is going to put that picture in a textbook in the future so my kids can have a picture of their daddy drunk'n'disorderly in our nation's capital with a fauxhawk.
We've been hearing a lot about change... unfortunately you cannot use this type of change to pay cab fare back to campus. But he let us stop at an ATM.
Finally, to address "the other team"; first off, welcome to our world circa November 2004. It's a bitch, ain't it? But the pendulum will swing back with the next election cycle or two. It happens every time. In 2006, in response to Bush's re-election, congress went Dem. In 1994, in response to Clinton's election. That's just how it goes.
And were Obama socialist (not that the majority would know it, being that they don't have a proper working understanding of it), he would never be able to get far along enough to make the country socialist. Obviously there is a significant opposition to this very abstract and loose definition of socialism and were he to (no that he would) try and do anything, "the people" would act accordingly in 2010. The pendulum has swung back and forth all throughout history and it will continue to do so.
Next, as a former "loser" to the current "losing side", let's make sure no one is being hypocritical: scratch those "support the troops and our president" stickers off your car. You obviously meant "support our Republican president". There's nothing wrong with that, because I've got the same opinion but from the other side. Just keep in mind all those times you said/thought/shouted that when you bemoan Barack's election. Also, the "I'm moving to _____" stuff needs to end. Dems who wanted to move to Canada were at least planning to move somewhere more in line with their beliefs. Most other "modern" or "Western" countries I've seen named are more in the direction of what you claim to be leaving. Instead, why not do something? Start a republican moveon.org and load up your inboxes with crap you don't want to read. Seriously, moveon, I just wanted a fucking button and instead I got no Obama button and three e-mails a day.
Tonight was definitely top ten of my life (past, present and future), and as of now stands at number one.
Okay, I smell horrible. Good night.
Post-script: Saxby Chambliss is a disgusting human being for what he did to Max Cleland. Anyone who voted for the former, a walking piece of bile, cannot in good conscience claim that McCain's status as a war hero qualified him. Cleland gave up three of his limbs and yet people still voted for Chambliss after Sax compared Max to bin Laden. An eternity in hell being sodomized by broken glass bottles is too kind a fate for Saxby.
There's really nothing to say that hasn't already been said, but that doesn't mean I won't say it anyway.
This was the first election I voted in. My vote may not have counted (at least according to my understanding of how they deal with absentee ballots), but at the same time I am so proud to have been a part of this. At the start, I'll admit, I was nervous as I colored in each state on my crafty-fuckin' electoral map. 3-8 wasn't looking so hot. But by the time California came in, and we were sitting in that huge crowd in the Tavern on campus... I can't articulate how I felt. To be a part of something big, not only in that I voted for the guy, but also living out a night that my kids will one day ask me about. One of those days where you never forget where you were when it happened.
From there, we went down to the White House with the hopes of finding people celebrating (we did). The METRO ride downtown was even more exhilarating than the Tavern. Shouting, climbing on the poles... it was madness and yet no one said so much as a word about "proper metro etiquette".
Down at the White House (Barack's house), it was like a concert except there were no douchebags elbowing you in the stomach. Just people revelling in what they're experiencing.
It may be childish, but I'm really hoping at least one of the photographers who stole my soul this evening is going to put that picture in a textbook in the future so my kids can have a picture of their daddy drunk'n'disorderly in our nation's capital with a fauxhawk.
We've been hearing a lot about change... unfortunately you cannot use this type of change to pay cab fare back to campus. But he let us stop at an ATM.
Finally, to address "the other team"; first off, welcome to our world circa November 2004. It's a bitch, ain't it? But the pendulum will swing back with the next election cycle or two. It happens every time. In 2006, in response to Bush's re-election, congress went Dem. In 1994, in response to Clinton's election. That's just how it goes.
And were Obama socialist (not that the majority would know it, being that they don't have a proper working understanding of it), he would never be able to get far along enough to make the country socialist. Obviously there is a significant opposition to this very abstract and loose definition of socialism and were he to (no that he would) try and do anything, "the people" would act accordingly in 2010. The pendulum has swung back and forth all throughout history and it will continue to do so.
Next, as a former "loser" to the current "losing side", let's make sure no one is being hypocritical: scratch those "support the troops and our president" stickers off your car. You obviously meant "support our Republican president". There's nothing wrong with that, because I've got the same opinion but from the other side. Just keep in mind all those times you said/thought/shouted that when you bemoan Barack's election. Also, the "I'm moving to _____" stuff needs to end. Dems who wanted to move to Canada were at least planning to move somewhere more in line with their beliefs. Most other "modern" or "Western" countries I've seen named are more in the direction of what you claim to be leaving. Instead, why not do something? Start a republican moveon.org and load up your inboxes with crap you don't want to read. Seriously, moveon, I just wanted a fucking button and instead I got no Obama button and three e-mails a day.
Tonight was definitely top ten of my life (past, present and future), and as of now stands at number one.
Okay, I smell horrible. Good night.
Post-script: Saxby Chambliss is a disgusting human being for what he did to Max Cleland. Anyone who voted for the former, a walking piece of bile, cannot in good conscience claim that McCain's status as a war hero qualified him. Cleland gave up three of his limbs and yet people still voted for Chambliss after Sax compared Max to bin Laden. An eternity in hell being sodomized by broken glass bottles is too kind a fate for Saxby.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Currently Listening To: The Coolest Dog by Grand Buffet
The video pretty much speaks for itself.
The ideas expressed signify my being a maverick who will bring change, plus whatever Cynthia McKinney and Bob Barr's campaign slogans are.
To summarize for those who don't theytube, frat parties and GirlTalk concerts that were otherwise sexcellent were ruined by douchebags so we should create "things"/places that don't include them. Fuck those guys.
And Grand Buffet is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good! Check it!
The video pretty much speaks for itself.
The ideas expressed signify my being a maverick who will bring change, plus whatever Cynthia McKinney and Bob Barr's campaign slogans are.
To summarize for those who don't theytube, frat parties and GirlTalk concerts that were otherwise sexcellent were ruined by douchebags so we should create "things"/places that don't include them. Fuck those guys.
And Grand Buffet is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO good! Check it!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Babylon AD Solved
I'm learning to use GIMP after a year of photoshop... the first of my experiments.
This was a pretty abysmal movie, but I thought of a solution to its issues: combine it with Mamma Mia.
But seriously, I paid 21 dollars to see it. That is a shame.
This was a pretty abysmal movie, but I thought of a solution to its issues: combine it with Mamma Mia.
But seriously, I paid 21 dollars to see it. That is a shame.
Friday, September 26, 2008
MY RADIO SHOW!
EVERY FRIDAY!
10-MIDNIGHT!
WVAU.ORG (it's streaming... so we can count listeners...)
Tonight is our first show, and I'm only just now hyping it.
That's how I roll.
10-MIDNIGHT!
WVAU.ORG (it's streaming... so we can count listeners...)
Tonight is our first show, and I'm only just now hyping it.
That's how I roll.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Social Experiments
Currently Listening To: Reruns of LOST on SciFi
Twice today, during conversations with various people, "it" was decided that some aspect of life here at college was just some remotely orchestrated social experiment. The first is my Asian Civilizations class. It meets Mondays and Thursdays around lunch time in the basement of the building with "biology" plastered on one of the columns. In addition to witnessing the major cultures of Southeast Asia, as I student in that class I will witness the complete breakdown and ultimate destruction of the human spirit. Let me explain; our professor is a grad student. She was informed she would be replacing the original professor less than a month before class. The textbook she's teaching from is not available in the bookstore, and it doesn't look likely that it ever will be. She's dependent on student discussion, being that she's ESL and often struggles with words, yet everyone has difficulty getting the readings from the web so we've got nothing to say; Asian Civilizations? More like Awkward Cilences. Anyways, watcher her just stand there is absolutely depressing, and she looks depressed when it happens. Like I said, by the end of the semester, she will be a shell of a person.
The second is one of the many places on campus to get food. "Getting food" goes as follows: you wait in line for your meal. You order your meal. You pay for your meal. You recieve your meal. Then you wait in another line, except that it's not a line, it's an amorphous blob of students clamoring for French Fries. Then you wait some more. When they finally produce the fries, it's like the zombie hoardes, a mad dash for that precious two, three bags of fries. Could this fuster cluck be avoided? Why of course, anyone with an ounce of logic could tell you so; simply give the students their fries with their meals. So the only logical explanation is that it is an experiment devised by the Psychology department to see what lengths to which college students will go to get fries. THE ONLY EXPLANATION.
I just saw a very, very disturbing commercial. Two girls walk up to their father. They've got that "Come play with us, Danny" quality about them. One says, "It's time, dad." Oh God, a period commercial. Wait! Even better; the girl produces from behind her back a box of Rogaine; "You'd make a great catch for some lady."
I'm not even going to dissect this any further, I'll just say that it is disturbing.
Twice today, during conversations with various people, "it" was decided that some aspect of life here at college was just some remotely orchestrated social experiment. The first is my Asian Civilizations class. It meets Mondays and Thursdays around lunch time in the basement of the building with "biology" plastered on one of the columns. In addition to witnessing the major cultures of Southeast Asia, as I student in that class I will witness the complete breakdown and ultimate destruction of the human spirit. Let me explain; our professor is a grad student. She was informed she would be replacing the original professor less than a month before class. The textbook she's teaching from is not available in the bookstore, and it doesn't look likely that it ever will be. She's dependent on student discussion, being that she's ESL and often struggles with words, yet everyone has difficulty getting the readings from the web so we've got nothing to say; Asian Civilizations? More like Awkward Cilences. Anyways, watcher her just stand there is absolutely depressing, and she looks depressed when it happens. Like I said, by the end of the semester, she will be a shell of a person.
The second is one of the many places on campus to get food. "Getting food" goes as follows: you wait in line for your meal. You order your meal. You pay for your meal. You recieve your meal. Then you wait in another line, except that it's not a line, it's an amorphous blob of students clamoring for French Fries. Then you wait some more. When they finally produce the fries, it's like the zombie hoardes, a mad dash for that precious two, three bags of fries. Could this fuster cluck be avoided? Why of course, anyone with an ounce of logic could tell you so; simply give the students their fries with their meals. So the only logical explanation is that it is an experiment devised by the Psychology department to see what lengths to which college students will go to get fries. THE ONLY EXPLANATION.
I just saw a very, very disturbing commercial. Two girls walk up to their father. They've got that "Come play with us, Danny" quality about them. One says, "It's time, dad." Oh God, a period commercial. Wait! Even better; the girl produces from behind her back a box of Rogaine; "You'd make a great catch for some lady."
I'm not even going to dissect this any further, I'll just say that it is disturbing.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Bathroom Finicky
Currently Listening To: My Roommate Listening to Rush
I have a confession.
Prior to college, I was deathly afraid of public toilets. It's just not right; rubbing your ass all over the same piece of real estate as God-only-knows how many other people? It's different at home. I know exactly who uses a toilet there, and I know that they, you know, bathe. Same thing at other people's houses. But public toilets? Fuck that.
Weirdly enough, I'm also comfortable with hotel toilets, even though, well, everyone knows about hotels. You know what I'm talking about. Nightline or whatever and the blacklights. God only knows how many hookers have gotten fucked on that hotel toilet, but still, I'll drop a deuce on it. Or in it, rather. On it is just wrong.
SPEAKING OF WHICH, or rather, BACK TO DORM-SHITTING. Since arriving here at school, I've conquered my fear of public toilets. It was pretty simple. The second day I was here I realized I wasn't going to be able to hold it in until Christmas break. Probably should have anticipated that.
So the toilet itself is no longer an obstacle. I'm still, and likely will always be, uncomfortable with other people in the bathroom. Half the people on our hall are guys*, and that's like 30 or so people, I think? Anyways 30 guys, 4 toilets. Odds are one is in use if you're in there. So lots of times, I go in there, see a closed door and turn right back around. I just can't do it. I don't want to hear other people go to the bathroom, and I don't want someone else to hear me go to the bathroom. It's just not right. And it's weird, because I'm really not all that prudish otherwise, just, going to the bathroom is... sacred.
And this week. Someone desecrated one of those toilets. He dropped a Sloppy Joe grenade in that toilet. People were executed for lesser crimes at Nurmeburg than the atrocity that took place in stall two. It was so bad that the cleaning lady put a black trashbag over the commode, and the next day there was a hole in it. The only way I can concieve of me doing something like that involves being dead at the end.
I could go all day.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Also, I turn 18 in less than a month. Shit. Pedophiles will no longer find me appealing.
*In late elementary school/early middle school, there was a sitcom that took place in a co-ed dorm. I distinctly remember my parents telling me that co-ed dorms were a myth, and yet here I am. TAKE YER LIFE LESSONS AND STUFF 'EM, PARENTS.
I have a confession.
Prior to college, I was deathly afraid of public toilets. It's just not right; rubbing your ass all over the same piece of real estate as God-only-knows how many other people? It's different at home. I know exactly who uses a toilet there, and I know that they, you know, bathe. Same thing at other people's houses. But public toilets? Fuck that.
Weirdly enough, I'm also comfortable with hotel toilets, even though, well, everyone knows about hotels. You know what I'm talking about. Nightline or whatever and the blacklights. God only knows how many hookers have gotten fucked on that hotel toilet, but still, I'll drop a deuce on it. Or in it, rather. On it is just wrong.
SPEAKING OF WHICH, or rather, BACK TO DORM-SHITTING. Since arriving here at school, I've conquered my fear of public toilets. It was pretty simple. The second day I was here I realized I wasn't going to be able to hold it in until Christmas break. Probably should have anticipated that.
So the toilet itself is no longer an obstacle. I'm still, and likely will always be, uncomfortable with other people in the bathroom. Half the people on our hall are guys*, and that's like 30 or so people, I think? Anyways 30 guys, 4 toilets. Odds are one is in use if you're in there. So lots of times, I go in there, see a closed door and turn right back around. I just can't do it. I don't want to hear other people go to the bathroom, and I don't want someone else to hear me go to the bathroom. It's just not right. And it's weird, because I'm really not all that prudish otherwise, just, going to the bathroom is... sacred.
And this week. Someone desecrated one of those toilets. He dropped a Sloppy Joe grenade in that toilet. People were executed for lesser crimes at Nurmeburg than the atrocity that took place in stall two. It was so bad that the cleaning lady put a black trashbag over the commode, and the next day there was a hole in it. The only way I can concieve of me doing something like that involves being dead at the end.
I could go all day.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Also, I turn 18 in less than a month. Shit. Pedophiles will no longer find me appealing.
*In late elementary school/early middle school, there was a sitcom that took place in a co-ed dorm. I distinctly remember my parents telling me that co-ed dorms were a myth, and yet here I am. TAKE YER LIFE LESSONS AND STUFF 'EM, PARENTS.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunglasses
Some ballin' shades I picked up in town today, at a flea market.
How is college, you might ask? Absofuckinglutely awesome. I've spent the past week riding the metro, talking to tramps 'n vagrants, pinching every penny, stealing produce from the cafeteria, eating French Fries at every meal, staying up until at least three every night and watching Arrested Development in the lounge. I am exactly where I need to be.
Of course, classes start on Monday so... This could all change. But then I've never liked school, so anything above "thinking about driving a spike through my skull" is an upgrade.
Jokes aside, I think I will like it. I've got this theory that when it comes to teens and "young adults", there are two types of people; high school people and college people, who each thrive in that respective era. High school people feel comfortable with the cliques, structure, secret parties and drama of high school, while college people feel more comfortable surrounded by like-minded people while busying themselves not sneaking around to do shit they want to and living on their own schedule with minimal parental influence (no bias on my part, of course).
I didn't enjoy high school. I've made that abundantly clear; I enjoyed (and still enjoy, at least until October, I suppose) the age, but not the school. I count myself among the college people, and would wager that most of the college people were in a similar position as mine in high school; we didn't factor into that Mean Girls hierarchy. I didn't say popular because popularity is, well, bullshit. "Popular Kids" are popular among their friends, and no one else, and the "Unpopular Kids" are popular among their friends, and no one else. Just because we as the "Unpopular Kids" and they as the "Popular Kids" didn't care about the other doesn't negate the others existence.
...Where was I going with this?
Oh. High School people don't necessarily dislike college; in fact they tend to love it. But what they love about it is nearly identical to what they had before. They still ignore the academic aspect and still think they're the fucking elite (Frats, anyone?), except now they don't live at home. They go to college with the people they went to high school with, both in the sense that they surround themselves with the same types of people (nothing wrong with that) and that they actually go to school with many of their classmates from high school (WHY? MEET SOME NEW PEOPLE YOU PLEBEIANS) .
Rambling again.
In summation, I, along with my fellow 'like-minded' people, are elite-r that the 'elites'.
Wait, what?
How is college, you might ask? Absofuckinglutely awesome. I've spent the past week riding the metro, talking to tramps 'n vagrants, pinching every penny, stealing produce from the cafeteria, eating French Fries at every meal, staying up until at least three every night and watching Arrested Development in the lounge. I am exactly where I need to be.
Of course, classes start on Monday so... This could all change. But then I've never liked school, so anything above "thinking about driving a spike through my skull" is an upgrade.
Jokes aside, I think I will like it. I've got this theory that when it comes to teens and "young adults", there are two types of people; high school people and college people, who each thrive in that respective era. High school people feel comfortable with the cliques, structure, secret parties and drama of high school, while college people feel more comfortable surrounded by like-minded people while busying themselves not sneaking around to do shit they want to and living on their own schedule with minimal parental influence (no bias on my part, of course).
I didn't enjoy high school. I've made that abundantly clear; I enjoyed (and still enjoy, at least until October, I suppose) the age, but not the school. I count myself among the college people, and would wager that most of the college people were in a similar position as mine in high school; we didn't factor into that Mean Girls hierarchy. I didn't say popular because popularity is, well, bullshit. "Popular Kids" are popular among their friends, and no one else, and the "Unpopular Kids" are popular among their friends, and no one else. Just because we as the "Unpopular Kids" and they as the "Popular Kids" didn't care about the other doesn't negate the others existence.
...Where was I going with this?
Oh. High School people don't necessarily dislike college; in fact they tend to love it. But what they love about it is nearly identical to what they had before. They still ignore the academic aspect and still think they're the fucking elite (Frats, anyone?), except now they don't live at home. They go to college with the people they went to high school with, both in the sense that they surround themselves with the same types of people (nothing wrong with that) and that they actually go to school with many of their classmates from high school (WHY? MEET SOME NEW PEOPLE YOU PLEBEIANS) .
Rambling again.
In summation, I, along with my fellow 'like-minded' people, are elite-r that the 'elites'.
Wait, what?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
It's Been A Month... Sorry
But holy shit, gang, I'm leaving tomorrow.
I was driving the other day and remembered last year when I posted about "Not knowing where I'd be sleeping a year from now". Haha, that shit is quaint.
But I'm leaving tomorrow.Starting Saturday night, I will be a resident of Washington, DC. And a college student. And fuck, I forgot to register for an absentee ballot. I'm going to the most politically active college campus in the nation and I'm not going to be voting? Huzzah, great planning.
But my shit is mostly packed. And at lunch tomorrow, I'm gone. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited; excited to be leaving Acworth, excited to be starting college, excited to be moving to DC. But I don't think any parting words of advice or sad goodbyes (haven't gotten any of those; rather cut off since I hit a deer with my car) could have prepared me for this.
Ryan doesn't live here any more.
Thinking back to that year-ago post, here's what's changed since then:
Everything that's occupied my mind in the past year has pretty much evaporated. Sometimes i wish I was level-headed enough to remember these little pearls of wisdom.
*In case you're worried, it was planned and mutual. Distance is... Well, it's not exactly a new obstacle, right? And we still talk, and write, and e-mail... So it's all good.
I was driving the other day and remembered last year when I posted about "Not knowing where I'd be sleeping a year from now". Haha, that shit is quaint.
But I'm leaving tomorrow.Starting Saturday night, I will be a resident of Washington, DC. And a college student. And fuck, I forgot to register for an absentee ballot. I'm going to the most politically active college campus in the nation and I'm not going to be voting? Huzzah, great planning.
But my shit is mostly packed. And at lunch tomorrow, I'm gone. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited; excited to be leaving Acworth, excited to be starting college, excited to be moving to DC. But I don't think any parting words of advice or sad goodbyes (haven't gotten any of those; rather cut off since I hit a deer with my car) could have prepared me for this.
Ryan doesn't live here any more.
Thinking back to that year-ago post, here's what's changed since then:
- I began senior year... Graduated. No longer a factor.
- Applying to college... Accepted, chose a school. No longer a factor.
- Got my license... Wrecked my car. No longer a factor.
- Got a girlfriend... We broke up.* No longer a factor.
Everything that's occupied my mind in the past year has pretty much evaporated. Sometimes i wish I was level-headed enough to remember these little pearls of wisdom.
"Everything I've had, one day,
will fall apart and fade away"
- Angelina, The Bravery
will fall apart and fade away"
- Angelina, The Bravery
*In case you're worried, it was planned and mutual. Distance is... Well, it's not exactly a new obstacle, right? And we still talk, and write, and e-mail... So it's all good.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
AP Scores
Currently Listening To: Hard to Beat by Hard-Fi
The exciting conclusion to a saga for which I'm sure people were hanging off the edge of their seats. Though I will admit that my heart was racing as I pulled the letter out of the mailbox; the envelope wasn't as I remembered it so I was expecting another "We couldn't grade it, expect your scores later", or a "We're not wasting postage on your results". That would suck.
Well, the ripple effect of some childish antics from my childhood, which has long since passed (More than two months ago!), I will be forced to take a math class, but I can count a science course or two out. Probably just one. If that. I'll have to see what this means for English... SUSPENSE!
Bee Tee Dubs, is anyone watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog? It is an absolute nerdgasm for so many reasons and I've got it archived on my iPod for future reference.
I fucking love NPH. I'd hit that. (Sorry, Adrienne, if you had to read that... And sorry you'll have to read the letter I'm writing in which I declare my love of Daniel Bruhl.
I am a terrible boyfriend)
The exciting conclusion to a saga for which I'm sure people were hanging off the edge of their seats. Though I will admit that my heart was racing as I pulled the letter out of the mailbox; the envelope wasn't as I remembered it so I was expecting another "We couldn't grade it, expect your scores later", or a "We're not wasting postage on your results". That would suck.
Well, the ripple effect of some childish antics from my childhood, which has long since passed (More than two months ago!), I will be forced to take a math class, but I can count a science course or two out. Probably just one. If that. I'll have to see what this means for English... SUSPENSE!
Bee Tee Dubs, is anyone watching Dr. Horrible's Sing-A-Long Blog? It is an absolute nerdgasm for so many reasons and I've got it archived on my iPod for future reference.
I fucking love NPH. I'd hit that. (Sorry, Adrienne, if you had to read that... And sorry you'll have to read the letter I'm writing in which I declare my love of Daniel Bruhl.
I am a terrible boyfriend)
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Important Life Lesson?
Currently Listening To: Everyone's A VIP To Someone by the Go! Team
I generally consider myself to be a carefree guy; not in the sense that I frolic in fields of flowers while singing Julie Andrews songs, more so that often I just don't give a shit.
Generally, that may be the case, but now I really care. And not about the children. I care about me, and my future. No, not career options. I care about potentially not ever having to take a math class again, or potentially having to take Calculus.
Our story begins at Orientation, which I went to a few weeks ago. A lot of kids there were just talking ad nauseum about school and grades and shit. I suppose that's logical; we were at college orientation, and many/most of the kids there had just finished school. I, however, had already been out for a month, and even then I didn't enjoy talking about school. NEWS ALERT: It's boring. But all this talking usually wound up at talk about AP/IB scores and exempting classes. Now, I hadn't thought about that shit in ages, because I had long since come to the realization that AP was a waste of my time since schools are now so stingy about taking credits. But suddenly, without any real change except the prospect of taking Calc, that shit mattered.
Our story continues on July 1st, when I had a dream about AP scores. I woke up and got on the College Board website to see when they were available. Sure enough, July 1st. A reasonable person would say that my subconscious was just remembering date that was all over our AP shit back in May, but I know that it was actually a psychic experience. Because I'm great.
Anyways, they were available starting July 1st by phone, but I needed the packet with my student number on it. Hah! I threw that shit out once I finished my last test. But so now I have to wait until they mail it to me. Every day I eagerly sift through the mail looking for that envelope with the dopey acorn on it. That is the dumbest logo ever (pardon the hyperbole).
The anticipation is killing me. The first two years I really didn't care
but now, not only is there something hinging on the scores, but there's also reason to believe that I didn't do alright, and it's not the typical "I don't know what the fuck a Huegenot is!", it's "Why the fuck did I write that smartass answer?" and that applies to all four of my exams, not just one. Let's review:
Anyways, I done fucked myself over and will continue stressing until that letter comes. And yes, there's no sense worrying because it's pretty much set in stone now, but when have I ever learned any sort of life lesson?
I generally consider myself to be a carefree guy; not in the sense that I frolic in fields of flowers while singing Julie Andrews songs, more so that often I just don't give a shit.
Generally, that may be the case, but now I really care. And not about the children. I care about me, and my future. No, not career options. I care about potentially not ever having to take a math class again, or potentially having to take Calculus.
Our story begins at Orientation, which I went to a few weeks ago. A lot of kids there were just talking ad nauseum about school and grades and shit. I suppose that's logical; we were at college orientation, and many/most of the kids there had just finished school. I, however, had already been out for a month, and even then I didn't enjoy talking about school. NEWS ALERT: It's boring. But all this talking usually wound up at talk about AP/IB scores and exempting classes. Now, I hadn't thought about that shit in ages, because I had long since come to the realization that AP was a waste of my time since schools are now so stingy about taking credits. But suddenly, without any real change except the prospect of taking Calc, that shit mattered.
Our story continues on July 1st, when I had a dream about AP scores. I woke up and got on the College Board website to see when they were available. Sure enough, July 1st. A reasonable person would say that my subconscious was just remembering date that was all over our AP shit back in May, but I know that it was actually a psychic experience. Because I'm great.
Anyways, they were available starting July 1st by phone, but I needed the packet with my student number on it. Hah! I threw that shit out once I finished my last test. But so now I have to wait until they mail it to me. Every day I eagerly sift through the mail looking for that envelope with the dopey acorn on it. That is the dumbest logo ever (pardon the hyperbole).
The anticipation is killing me. The first two years I really didn't care
but now, not only is there something hinging on the scores, but there's also reason to believe that I didn't do alright, and it's not the typical "I don't know what the fuck a Huegenot is!", it's "Why the fuck did I write that smartass answer?" and that applies to all four of my exams, not just one. Let's review:
- Statistics: The experiment the man should try out is "Go get a girlfriend"
- English: A lengthy essay on how Nermal serves as a foil to the protagonist in Jim Davis' classic saga "Garfield"
- Environmental: Something about a kerosene lake in Portugal
- Spanish: My last essay was just a picture of a bus labelled "Spanish" running me over with various Spanish literary figures on board
Anyways, I done fucked myself over and will continue stressing until that letter comes. And yes, there's no sense worrying because it's pretty much set in stone now, but when have I ever learned any sort of life lesson?
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Fourth of July
Currently Listening To: One Pure Thought by Hot Chip
For some reason, I always seem to end up ranting about holidays for one reason or another; Independence Day is no exception.
In short, I have a problem with this holiday. And no, it has nothing to do with my attitudes toward patriotism, or the State of the Union or what have you; I just don't like how we celebrate.
Fireworks are
Well, no. I'm just not interested. Find something to liven up the shindig or kick to to the curb!!
Well, no. I love America. I just don't like fireworks.
For some reason, I always seem to end up ranting about holidays for one reason or another; Independence Day is no exception.
In short, I have a problem with this holiday. And no, it has nothing to do with my attitudes toward patriotism, or the State of the Union or what have you; I just don't like how we celebrate.
Fireworks are
- Not an American invention, nor are they strongly associated with America. Everyone shoots off fireworks.
- Fucking boring. You get like five colors and five "designs" or whatever. Thirty to forty-five minutes of alternating colors and styles? I'll pass.
- Not even exclusive to this particular holiday! Fireworks are also a New Years thing, in case you were completely oblivious.
Well, no. I'm just not interested. Find something to liven up the shindig or kick to to the curb!!
Well, no. I love America. I just don't like fireworks.
Monday, June 16, 2008
What's HAPPENING? Marky Mark and the Killer Trees
Perhaps I went against my word and saw it so I could make the "What's Happenin'?" pun. Fred Berry's rolling in his grave.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Worst
Currently Watching: LOST Finale
M. Night Shamaylan makes mystery movies, and the eventual movie chronicling his life will also contain a large mystery: why people keep allowing him to make movies. I've been hearing a lot about The Happening in these past few weeks. When they showed the trailer before Iron Man, I heard a lot of laughter. The line "There appears to be an event happening" comes to mind. Mr. M Night, have you ever had a conversation with someone before? Watched the news? Hear someone speak? No one talks like that, not even at a press conference, like the one being depicted in the scene. "There is an event happening"? We get it; your movies are hinged on a big ol' secret we can't know about until we see it. But surely there is a better way of enticing us than with a bit of dialog George Lucas would find laughable.
The plot point The Happening is hinged upon is what has caused THE HAPPENING. What has caused these people to commit suicide. That's why people will go to see it; the suspense is killing them. Well, friends? I'm about to save you some time and money, because I know what that twist is:
Disappointment.
What the twist actually is, be it terrorists or aliens or ghosts or Amish monsters or Mermaids or supervillains with glass bones, it will disappoint people on a cosmic scale. It will leave people speechless, then immobile and finally suicidal over just how big a letdown it is, because the two-hours building up, no matter how engaging the plot or amazing the special effects or whatever (not that you'll actually find either), will never be sufficiently fulfilled by the reveal. Every time one of this guy's movies comes out, people are exponentially less satisfied with his twists. Granted, no one will ever be emotionally numb to this endings, as it can never reach zero, but still, there will come a time, when his last movie is released, that the lone audience member will somehow convey less emotion than "Eh."
M. Night Shamanotgonnaworkhereanymore, I'll see you in hell.
M. Night Shamaylan makes mystery movies, and the eventual movie chronicling his life will also contain a large mystery: why people keep allowing him to make movies. I've been hearing a lot about The Happening in these past few weeks. When they showed the trailer before Iron Man, I heard a lot of laughter. The line "There appears to be an event happening" comes to mind. Mr. M Night, have you ever had a conversation with someone before? Watched the news? Hear someone speak? No one talks like that, not even at a press conference, like the one being depicted in the scene. "There is an event happening"? We get it; your movies are hinged on a big ol' secret we can't know about until we see it. But surely there is a better way of enticing us than with a bit of dialog George Lucas would find laughable.
The plot point The Happening is hinged upon is what has caused THE HAPPENING. What has caused these people to commit suicide. That's why people will go to see it; the suspense is killing them. Well, friends? I'm about to save you some time and money, because I know what that twist is:
Disappointment.
What the twist actually is, be it terrorists or aliens or ghosts or Amish monsters or Mermaids or supervillains with glass bones, it will disappoint people on a cosmic scale. It will leave people speechless, then immobile and finally suicidal over just how big a letdown it is, because the two-hours building up, no matter how engaging the plot or amazing the special effects or whatever (not that you'll actually find either), will never be sufficiently fulfilled by the reveal. Every time one of this guy's movies comes out, people are exponentially less satisfied with his twists. Granted, no one will ever be emotionally numb to this endings, as it can never reach zero, but still, there will come a time, when his last movie is released, that the lone audience member will somehow convey less emotion than "Eh."
M. Night Shamanotgonnaworkhereanymore, I'll see you in hell.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Sunscreen
Currently Listening To: Time On Your Side by Emily Jane White
Location: My bed
That's right; I am typing this from my bed. My parents got me a laptop for graduation. That's right, I graduated. In fact, I graduated three days and four-ish hours ago. It took me three days and four hours to start a graduation post. My freshman year, I would have been typing as I walked across the stage. I guess that's just one of the many ways I've changed since I started this blog and high school four years ago.
I would be lying if I saide these four years went by fast; there were times I thought I would be stuck, a la Groundhog Day, in a loop of high school until I went insane. I had my fair share of low points, both events around me and mistakes I've made. Then again, there have been good experiences. That's what high school is, and that's what life is. Good and bad times; the good to tell you what to do and give you something to hold on to, and the bad to tell you how not to do it and give you motivation to do it better next time. It's that good-and-bad dichotomy that make up who you are, and hopefully, make you a better person once it is all said and done. Freshman year and a good bit of sophomore year I was pretty much a piece of shit, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. I was just worthless. I did nothing. Wasted it. Worse yet, I tried to act like it was somehow connected to the external bad shit going down around me. And then there was the whole Chad ordeal.That definitely goes under the 'things I'd like to put behind me' category. I still can't believe Clint gave him that password! But spring of freshman year, aside from Chad, stands out as me not being slime. That was when we saw House of Wax, highlight of the year, if only because every time that story is retold, Starla bumps my age down by a year. Last I hear, Claire pushed me into the theater in a stroller.
Sophomore year, I suppose, served to show me exactly what the word 'sophomoric' meant. We fucked around a lot. Productivity was at an all time low. Countless hours spent doing nothing in either Spanish/Chemistry class, or not buying things in Barnes and Nobles. Though I get involved with drama that year, which on the whole, is definitely a highlight of high school for me.
Junior year? Oh fuck. First, physics class was a huge learning experience, and I'm not talking about shit like trajectories and electromagnetism and whatnot. It taught me how to take failure in stride, and I suppose study skills to a minor extent. And English produced ample entertainment with our replacement teacher, Dr. Durlin. "Massa Kurtz, he DEAD." Outside of class, I finally figured out who my friends were (my two gangs: the Stack, the Big Three... FOR LIFE), as well as one douchebag who wasn't. Fuck that kid. I mean, I hate to be bitter, but fuck him. We didn't need him after all, and he apparently didn't need us. I began my love affair with a man named Stephen King. And then there was the, er, saga, I suppose, that will forever haunt me. I can only pray that I never treat someone as as much of a human doormat as I did her. Note to self: a simple no would have been satisfactory. I don't doubt you're reading this; I know we already talked about it but I'm still sorry. How're things?
Senior year is how I hope to remember high school. Aside from the rough first month-and-a-half, I succeeded in getting my license, becoming Homecoming King, getting into a school I am thrilled to be going to next year AND finally getting a girlfriend. I am doing pretty well. I befriended some interesting new/old people at school and spent nearly every weekend at the movies, going on as many as six duplicate viewings. THREE CLOVERFIELDS. Holy shit. As far as lessons learned, I think my several-month-procrastination on going out with Adrienne tops the list. While procrastination is a theme that runs throughout my life, the fact that I delayed happiness for so long, rather than the typical delay of work and subsequent happiness, shows just how inept I am.
Loved some of it, hated the rest. High school. Xangas,zombie movies, Barnes & Nobles, Vitamin Water, prom, Stephen King, indie bullshit, graphic design, ratty old Hondas. I'd say it went pretty well, all things considered.
I think I've got one high school post left in me, and then I will close that chapter of my life/blog.
And so it is now that I'm announcing my plans to delete every previous post and devote my blog to my love of the ever-talented Jonas Brothers.
Location: My bed
That's right; I am typing this from my bed. My parents got me a laptop for graduation. That's right, I graduated. In fact, I graduated three days and four-ish hours ago. It took me three days and four hours to start a graduation post. My freshman year, I would have been typing as I walked across the stage. I guess that's just one of the many ways I've changed since I started this blog and high school four years ago.
I would be lying if I saide these four years went by fast; there were times I thought I would be stuck, a la Groundhog Day, in a loop of high school until I went insane. I had my fair share of low points, both events around me and mistakes I've made. Then again, there have been good experiences. That's what high school is, and that's what life is. Good and bad times; the good to tell you what to do and give you something to hold on to, and the bad to tell you how not to do it and give you motivation to do it better next time. It's that good-and-bad dichotomy that make up who you are, and hopefully, make you a better person once it is all said and done. Freshman year and a good bit of sophomore year I was pretty much a piece of shit, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. I was just worthless. I did nothing. Wasted it. Worse yet, I tried to act like it was somehow connected to the external bad shit going down around me. And then there was the whole Chad ordeal.That definitely goes under the 'things I'd like to put behind me' category. I still can't believe Clint gave him that password! But spring of freshman year, aside from Chad, stands out as me not being slime. That was when we saw House of Wax, highlight of the year, if only because every time that story is retold, Starla bumps my age down by a year. Last I hear, Claire pushed me into the theater in a stroller.
Sophomore year, I suppose, served to show me exactly what the word 'sophomoric' meant. We fucked around a lot. Productivity was at an all time low. Countless hours spent doing nothing in either Spanish/Chemistry class, or not buying things in Barnes and Nobles. Though I get involved with drama that year, which on the whole, is definitely a highlight of high school for me.
Junior year? Oh fuck. First, physics class was a huge learning experience, and I'm not talking about shit like trajectories and electromagnetism and whatnot. It taught me how to take failure in stride, and I suppose study skills to a minor extent. And English produced ample entertainment with our replacement teacher, Dr. Durlin. "Massa Kurtz, he DEAD." Outside of class, I finally figured out who my friends were (my two gangs: the Stack, the Big Three... FOR LIFE), as well as one douchebag who wasn't. Fuck that kid. I mean, I hate to be bitter, but fuck him. We didn't need him after all, and he apparently didn't need us. I began my love affair with a man named Stephen King. And then there was the, er, saga, I suppose, that will forever haunt me. I can only pray that I never treat someone as as much of a human doormat as I did her. Note to self: a simple no would have been satisfactory. I don't doubt you're reading this; I know we already talked about it but I'm still sorry. How're things?
Senior year is how I hope to remember high school. Aside from the rough first month-and-a-half, I succeeded in getting my license, becoming Homecoming King, getting into a school I am thrilled to be going to next year AND finally getting a girlfriend. I am doing pretty well. I befriended some interesting new/old people at school and spent nearly every weekend at the movies, going on as many as six duplicate viewings. THREE CLOVERFIELDS. Holy shit. As far as lessons learned, I think my several-month-procrastination on going out with Adrienne tops the list. While procrastination is a theme that runs throughout my life, the fact that I delayed happiness for so long, rather than the typical delay of work and subsequent happiness, shows just how inept I am.
Loved some of it, hated the rest. High school. Xangas,zombie movies, Barnes & Nobles, Vitamin Water, prom, Stephen King, indie bullshit, graphic design, ratty old Hondas. I'd say it went pretty well, all things considered.
I think I've got one high school post left in me, and then I will close that chapter of my life/blog.
And so it is now that I'm announcing my plans to delete every previous post and devote my blog to my love of the ever-talented Jonas Brothers.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
fire!
I had a minor altercation with a QuickTrip employee yesterday, but we, er, 'worked things out'.
You see, after the 'got-no-gas' incident last year, my mom gave me her Amex so I could fill up when I was out of gas, rather than waiting until I was out of gas and with her, which was pretty much never. And with gas prices going up, she suggested I start going to QT, which tends to be cheaper. That's smart. And QT has breakfast, which is nice in the mornings, the time of day people tend to eat breakfast. Except the other day, I tried to charge my eats to the card and the woman behind the counter looked at the card, and she looked at me, and she incredulously asked, "Ellen?"
Being that I wasn't, you know, doing anything wrong, I explained that Ellen is my mom, and I'm using her card. A swift rebuttal follows: "Honey, you can't use her card. Blah blah blah, something something." She didn't actually say "Blah blah blah, something something," I just didn't really care enough about what she was saying to remember it.
Really, the incident isn't too significant, except I was fucking ornery that morning, and by calling me 'honey' (I am almost 18 for fuck's sake!) and inconveniencing my grazing (because I am almost morbidly obese for fuck's sake!), it really pissed me off. And my allergies cause my eyes to be watering all the time, and I was worried she though I was crying over a chicken biscuit. Which I wasn't. I swear.
You see, after the 'got-no-gas' incident last year, my mom gave me her Amex so I could fill up when I was out of gas, rather than waiting until I was out of gas and with her, which was pretty much never. And with gas prices going up, she suggested I start going to QT, which tends to be cheaper. That's smart. And QT has breakfast, which is nice in the mornings, the time of day people tend to eat breakfast. Except the other day, I tried to charge my eats to the card and the woman behind the counter looked at the card, and she looked at me, and she incredulously asked, "Ellen?"
Being that I wasn't, you know, doing anything wrong, I explained that Ellen is my mom, and I'm using her card. A swift rebuttal follows: "Honey, you can't use her card. Blah blah blah, something something." She didn't actually say "Blah blah blah, something something," I just didn't really care enough about what she was saying to remember it.
Really, the incident isn't too significant, except I was fucking ornery that morning, and by calling me 'honey' (I am almost 18 for fuck's sake!) and inconveniencing my grazing (because I am almost morbidly obese for fuck's sake!), it really pissed me off. And my allergies cause my eyes to be watering all the time, and I was worried she though I was crying over a chicken biscuit. Which I wasn't. I swear.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Big Announcment
Trent Reznor made a big ol' announcement this week. This was the postcard he sent his fans.
So yesterday was my last day of school, except it was just graduation rehearsal, so I suppose Thursday was my last day of school, except that was just my AP English exam, because our pissed-off administration canceled school because some kids tagged the Cove with "Class of 08 we're f'n great". I would have preferred a full "fuckin' great", but I'll settle. So Wednesday was the last day. High School is dunzo. I graduate on the 17th, and then in late August I ship off to DC for college.
I love my family dearly, but at this moment, I don't feel sad at all to be leaving. I'll be back, you know? Christmas, summer, etc.?
Senior year, however, I will not miss. Senior privileges were meager (at best), and most attempts at senior shenanigans were sabotaged. Sure, a small group of us resurrected Water Day as Water Night and made several underclassmen cry, but other than that? Not much to write home about. The fact that it wasn't our laziness so much as the actions of the administration makes me glad to be leaving. Everything is changing for the sake of change and being the Stepford School. Fuck high school. I'm above this shit.
I saw Baby Mama last night with Bob and one of his friends (Bob is back!) They were quite drunk. It sucked because Bob kept shouting and his friend kept hitting me every time something funny happened. But I enjoyed the movie aside from that.
And then, while driving out (past curfew... scandalous), we saw something... AMAZING. I picked it up, and it is now here in the basement awaiting a picture to immortalize its presence in the house. I'll get that up later.
So yesterday was my last day of school, except it was just graduation rehearsal, so I suppose Thursday was my last day of school, except that was just my AP English exam, because our pissed-off administration canceled school because some kids tagged the Cove with "Class of 08 we're f'n great". I would have preferred a full "fuckin' great", but I'll settle. So Wednesday was the last day. High School is dunzo. I graduate on the 17th, and then in late August I ship off to DC for college.
I love my family dearly, but at this moment, I don't feel sad at all to be leaving. I'll be back, you know? Christmas, summer, etc.?
Senior year, however, I will not miss. Senior privileges were meager (at best), and most attempts at senior shenanigans were sabotaged. Sure, a small group of us resurrected Water Day as Water Night and made several underclassmen cry, but other than that? Not much to write home about. The fact that it wasn't our laziness so much as the actions of the administration makes me glad to be leaving. Everything is changing for the sake of change and being the Stepford School. Fuck high school. I'm above this shit.
I saw Baby Mama last night with Bob and one of his friends (Bob is back!) They were quite drunk. It sucked because Bob kept shouting and his friend kept hitting me every time something funny happened. But I enjoyed the movie aside from that.
And then, while driving out (past curfew... scandalous), we saw something... AMAZING. I picked it up, and it is now here in the basement awaiting a picture to immortalize its presence in the house. I'll get that up later.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
What's Going On In Your Life?
Currently Watching: The Ten
Well, okay, I was really only asking so that I could inversely tell you how I am doing.
First, I've just finished the play. It sucked up all my time during those last few weeks, leaving me bitchy and tired all the time. Driving home after midnight isn't so fun when it's raining really hard and you're sleepy.
One time I fell asleep while driving and was like an inch away from t-boning this flower van. Comical, to be sure.
So yeah, the play left me whiny and disgruntled. Which really wasn't much of a change I guess... But that big ol' time suck left me very little time for...
My girlfriend.
Yes, you read that correctly. The little nerd you've been following intently like your favorite VH1 reality show for the past four years has a real girlfriend. And she has a name. It is Adrienne.
That is her. If you're feeling excessively voyeuristic, you can check out all the fun pictures on flickr
Well, okay, I was really only asking so that I could inversely tell you how I am doing.
First, I've just finished the play. It sucked up all my time during those last few weeks, leaving me bitchy and tired all the time. Driving home after midnight isn't so fun when it's raining really hard and you're sleepy.
One time I fell asleep while driving and was like an inch away from t-boning this flower van. Comical, to be sure.
So yeah, the play left me whiny and disgruntled. Which really wasn't much of a change I guess... But that big ol' time suck left me very little time for...
My girlfriend.
Yes, you read that correctly. The little nerd you've been following intently like your favorite VH1 reality show for the past four years has a real girlfriend. And she has a name. It is Adrienne.
That is her. If you're feeling excessively voyeuristic, you can check out all the fun pictures on flickr
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Names
Currently Listening To: I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You by Black Kids
Both of my parents, when signing e-mails, simply put their respective first initial.
When did my house become MI6?
I guess I'll be 002, since I'm il secondo.
Yes, Ispeak Italian have access to google translator.
Both of my parents, when signing e-mails, simply put their respective first initial.
When did my house become MI6?
I guess I'll be 002, since I'm il secondo.
Yes, I
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
My Special Place
Currently Listening To: Waiting by Shiny Toy Guns
Last week in assembly, a girl I haven't spoken to in the three years she's gone to our school of less-than-500 students gave a speech about all the shit that's gone down in her life (serious shit), and that our school has made her feel confident and what not. So, a brief recap of that briefness: her special place is school because it makes her feel safe.
Now, what about my special place?
Oh, I've got a great one. But it's not a place that makes me feel safe. Quite the opposite, in fact. My special place is the way I've recently started driving home from school. Basically, you go the same way as usual, but halfway down the highway you take a right straight into the bowels of hell. You pass by various ranch houses on large lots, followed by THE COMPOUND. What the fuck is THE COMPOUND, you may be asking? THE COMPOUND is this seriously sketchy grouping of houses and American-made cars on blocks surrounded by a sloppily-put-up retaining wall fence with some cryptic message I don't care to remember spray painted on the side. Who lives in THE COMPOUND? Trustworthy sources (some kid I talked to in middle school) claim Neo-Nazis, though a charismatic cult, Communists or the KKK are not out of the question.
Needless to say, driving by is uncomfortable. Breaking down on the side of the road is bad. Breaking down within half a mile of THE COMPOUND is bullet-in-the-brainpan worthy. Imagine House of Wax, Texas Chainsaw and Wrong Turn rolled into a thin flour tortilla and grilled to perfection.
After THE COMPOUND, there is the little town of Macedonia. I'll be damned if the name of every town in Georgia wasn't taken from my Ancient World History book from Freshman year. Macedonia, of course, is where my radio is hijacked from the audio-orgasm that is SIRIUS 26 Left of Center and switches to some rinky-dink station coming from someone's basement, which plays various essays and rants about the New World Order and how uncivilized people in Africa are (I shit you not... and this isn't THE COMPOUND). This happens a lot, of course; the frequency I listen to SIRIUS on is pretty popular for people's car-iPod things, so I'm frequently subjected to other people's crappy music. That's what I get for using a (paradoxically) Vacant Frequency (which is the name I plan to use for my Dan Brown/Robert Ludlum novel).
Following Fred Phelps Radio is the power plant, which was deemed one of the ten worst in the country (though I'm inclined to say it was #1 on the list). I don't know what to say about it other than that I close the vents on my car when I'm in sight of it.
From here on out, there's a lot of unremarkable minutia. Rinky-dink airport. Windy roads. Broken roads. One-lane bridge. I like to blast M.I.A.'s Kala and pretend I'm driving in the jungle of a third-world country. It helps that my car is a beat up, outdated Honda SUV. Third-world, to be sure. My life is like the ghetto. I grew up on the streets.
What's most exhilarating is that (SHH!) I'm not supposed to drive that way. Not because of the possible cannibals, bigot radio or power plant. It's the one lane bridge. Dad, I love you and how you always look out for me.
Last week in assembly, a girl I haven't spoken to in the three years she's gone to our school of less-than-500 students gave a speech about all the shit that's gone down in her life (serious shit), and that our school has made her feel confident and what not. So, a brief recap of that briefness: her special place is school because it makes her feel safe.
Now, what about my special place?
Oh, I've got a great one. But it's not a place that makes me feel safe. Quite the opposite, in fact. My special place is the way I've recently started driving home from school. Basically, you go the same way as usual, but halfway down the highway you take a right straight into the bowels of hell. You pass by various ranch houses on large lots, followed by THE COMPOUND. What the fuck is THE COMPOUND, you may be asking? THE COMPOUND is this seriously sketchy grouping of houses and American-made cars on blocks surrounded by a sloppily-put-up retaining wall fence with some cryptic message I don't care to remember spray painted on the side. Who lives in THE COMPOUND? Trustworthy sources (some kid I talked to in middle school) claim Neo-Nazis, though a charismatic cult, Communists or the KKK are not out of the question.
Needless to say, driving by is uncomfortable. Breaking down on the side of the road is bad. Breaking down within half a mile of THE COMPOUND is bullet-in-the-brainpan worthy. Imagine House of Wax, Texas Chainsaw and Wrong Turn rolled into a thin flour tortilla and grilled to perfection.
After THE COMPOUND, there is the little town of Macedonia. I'll be damned if the name of every town in Georgia wasn't taken from my Ancient World History book from Freshman year. Macedonia, of course, is where my radio is hijacked from the audio-orgasm that is SIRIUS 26 Left of Center and switches to some rinky-dink station coming from someone's basement, which plays various essays and rants about the New World Order and how uncivilized people in Africa are (I shit you not... and this isn't THE COMPOUND). This happens a lot, of course; the frequency I listen to SIRIUS on is pretty popular for people's car-iPod things, so I'm frequently subjected to other people's crappy music. That's what I get for using a (paradoxically) Vacant Frequency (which is the name I plan to use for my Dan Brown/Robert Ludlum novel).
Following Fred Phelps Radio is the power plant, which was deemed one of the ten worst in the country (though I'm inclined to say it was #1 on the list). I don't know what to say about it other than that I close the vents on my car when I'm in sight of it.
From here on out, there's a lot of unremarkable minutia. Rinky-dink airport. Windy roads. Broken roads. One-lane bridge. I like to blast M.I.A.'s Kala and pretend I'm driving in the jungle of a third-world country. It helps that my car is a beat up, outdated Honda SUV. Third-world, to be sure. My life is like the ghetto. I grew up on the streets.
What's most exhilarating is that (SHH!) I'm not supposed to drive that way. Not because of the possible cannibals, bigot radio or power plant. It's the one lane bridge. Dad, I love you and how you always look out for me.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Fantastic
Currently Listening To: Great DJ by the Ting Tings
"Either way, all the talk about dead people milling about has given me my idea for a zombie flick. It's called Zombie of the Zombies. The protagonist is a young man that happens to be a zombie. He wakes up one day (hungry for flesh and feeling a bit rigor-mortis-y, naturally) and notices that some of the zombies around him have started turning...zombier. This obviously freaks his 5-cell mind out. He's panicked, in a constant state of terror (and hunger). He couldn't stand (or comprehend) the thought of his zombie girlfriend and their adopted zombie children turning zombier, as he would then have to kill them. He does everything he can think of - namely, killing and eating the few remaining humans left and walking around a lot - to prevent this from happening. Hey, at least he's trying something. In the end, he makes a valiant effort to stop the zombiers from getting his clan, and succeeds in saving their zombie lives, only to be turned zombier himself."
- Blog Cabins
"Either way, all the talk about dead people milling about has given me my idea for a zombie flick. It's called Zombie of the Zombies. The protagonist is a young man that happens to be a zombie. He wakes up one day (hungry for flesh and feeling a bit rigor-mortis-y, naturally) and notices that some of the zombies around him have started turning...zombier. This obviously freaks his 5-cell mind out. He's panicked, in a constant state of terror (and hunger). He couldn't stand (or comprehend) the thought of his zombie girlfriend and their adopted zombie children turning zombier, as he would then have to kill them. He does everything he can think of - namely, killing and eating the few remaining humans left and walking around a lot - to prevent this from happening. Hey, at least he's trying something. In the end, he makes a valiant effort to stop the zombiers from getting his clan, and succeeds in saving their zombie lives, only to be turned zombier himself."
- Blog Cabins
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