Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
...And so ends my first week back to the University. Generally, I have classes on Friday, but a teacher being busy freed up my afternoon to catch up on my much-needed beauty rest.
My classes go as follows;
Philosophy: We will read a lot. The girl beside me will wear the same style dress in a different color, molest her camel cigarettes, and laugh at every "joke" the teacher or one of four (4) guys in the class "make", be they funny, or not. I will be annoyed by her Monroe and her over-sized glasses.
Communications: I will "take notes" on busy work presented in lecture form. One guy, who is a Comm major, will be very interested in what goes on. The rest of us will slack as hard as our untrained bodies will allow. Sometimes we will be forced to speak publicly.
Anthropology: White people leave the city to live with brown people. The white people take notes on the brown people, and attempt to show why these brown people are different from all the brown people we already knew about. The brown people, recognizing the white peoples' futuristic "zipper-technology" presume their visitors as gods and give said "gods"access to their endless supply of charred bananas. Sylvester Stallone comes to the camp. There are no survivors.
Weight Training: We're supposed to call the teacher "Enzo". He tells us how to lift weights. I tell him I know how. He agrees. I then lift weights.
Art History: We look at pictures on a slide show and talk about it. The teacher insists that Frida Kahlo produced appreciated works of art. I disagree with her.
I have a lot of reading that I'm supposed to do. I don't think I'll mind too much, though. It feels nice to have a reason to get out of bed before noon. This weekend there is to be a cookout, and a house-warming party directly there after. It should be nice. I might go see Ponyo tomorrow.
My classes go as follows;
Philosophy: We will read a lot. The girl beside me will wear the same style dress in a different color, molest her camel cigarettes, and laugh at every "joke" the teacher or one of four (4) guys in the class "make", be they funny, or not. I will be annoyed by her Monroe and her over-sized glasses.
Communications: I will "take notes" on busy work presented in lecture form. One guy, who is a Comm major, will be very interested in what goes on. The rest of us will slack as hard as our untrained bodies will allow. Sometimes we will be forced to speak publicly.
Anthropology: White people leave the city to live with brown people. The white people take notes on the brown people, and attempt to show why these brown people are different from all the brown people we already knew about. The brown people, recognizing the white peoples' futuristic "zipper-technology" presume their visitors as gods and give said "gods"access to their endless supply of charred bananas. Sylvester Stallone comes to the camp. There are no survivors.
Weight Training: We're supposed to call the teacher "Enzo". He tells us how to lift weights. I tell him I know how. He agrees. I then lift weights.
Art History: We look at pictures on a slide show and talk about it. The teacher insists that Frida Kahlo produced appreciated works of art. I disagree with her.
I have a lot of reading that I'm supposed to do. I don't think I'll mind too much, though. It feels nice to have a reason to get out of bed before noon. This weekend there is to be a cookout, and a house-warming party directly there after. It should be nice. I might go see Ponyo tomorrow.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Summer Skin
The summer is ending. Maybe it already ended. I know it did for a few people; soon, for a few more. I feel like reflecting.
Part of me wants to believe that none of us are really cut out for college the way we think we should be. Often times, I think that the people who were meant to go to college are the people who realize that it's a scam, but a scam that is in our best interest to participate in. Granted, sometimes I learn things, and of course, I love to learn things. Even so, I feel like I'm jumping through hoops to get a piece of paper that says I know the things I know. No one wants to take my word for it.
But life is a journey, I guess.
I realized I'm a sophmore in college the other day. I'm one step closer to completing the next step, but I still have no idea what my next move should be. I don't really have ambitions. I just want to be happy, and I have no idea how to get to that point from here. Its not hard to get to happiness, but it is hard, I think, to get to happiness comfortably. I've considered law school. We'll see how well that works out in a year or two. Honestly, I don't like talking about my goals too much, because I always feel like they are lofty, but attainable, and it seems like someone usually has something to say about them. Generally something negative. Generally something mildly discouraging.
Money is becoming more and more of an issue. I think I'm safe, momentarily. Its sort of discouraging, how much of what we do is determined by money and material. Honestly, it confuses the fuck out of me. I recognize all this stuff is just junk, polished up to look nice and make me want it. The thing that bothers me is that it seems to be working. I do want nice things. Not competitively... or at least not openly competatively. I think it might be okay that I want nice things, and I want to throw my money into the pit, so long as I promise myself to keep my feet on the ground. These dead presidents will never represent me. My stature can't be measured by these leather seats.
I spend a lot of time trying to make myself invincible.
I can't help but think about how, in a couple of weeks, I'm going to start missing people. But life is so much better when those people come back for a weekend.
One of my friends wants to play music. He wants to play songs like The Desaparecidos would play, but with more breakdowns, maybe. I could get behind that. Hopefully, two more of my friends are interested in that as well. We'll see. I could justify cleaning out a garage for this. We're just waiting for junk day now.
Cross your fingers. Hold your breath. Do what you do.
Here comes the cold water.
Part of me wants to believe that none of us are really cut out for college the way we think we should be. Often times, I think that the people who were meant to go to college are the people who realize that it's a scam, but a scam that is in our best interest to participate in. Granted, sometimes I learn things, and of course, I love to learn things. Even so, I feel like I'm jumping through hoops to get a piece of paper that says I know the things I know. No one wants to take my word for it.
But life is a journey, I guess.
I realized I'm a sophmore in college the other day. I'm one step closer to completing the next step, but I still have no idea what my next move should be. I don't really have ambitions. I just want to be happy, and I have no idea how to get to that point from here. Its not hard to get to happiness, but it is hard, I think, to get to happiness comfortably. I've considered law school. We'll see how well that works out in a year or two. Honestly, I don't like talking about my goals too much, because I always feel like they are lofty, but attainable, and it seems like someone usually has something to say about them. Generally something negative. Generally something mildly discouraging.
Money is becoming more and more of an issue. I think I'm safe, momentarily. Its sort of discouraging, how much of what we do is determined by money and material. Honestly, it confuses the fuck out of me. I recognize all this stuff is just junk, polished up to look nice and make me want it. The thing that bothers me is that it seems to be working. I do want nice things. Not competitively... or at least not openly competatively. I think it might be okay that I want nice things, and I want to throw my money into the pit, so long as I promise myself to keep my feet on the ground. These dead presidents will never represent me. My stature can't be measured by these leather seats.
I spend a lot of time trying to make myself invincible.
I can't help but think about how, in a couple of weeks, I'm going to start missing people. But life is so much better when those people come back for a weekend.
One of my friends wants to play music. He wants to play songs like The Desaparecidos would play, but with more breakdowns, maybe. I could get behind that. Hopefully, two more of my friends are interested in that as well. We'll see. I could justify cleaning out a garage for this. We're just waiting for junk day now.
Cross your fingers. Hold your breath. Do what you do.
Here comes the cold water.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Tuesday post-nap
We're back from the trip. Last Friday morning we up and ran for the hills, like so many Iron Maiden fans. It seemed like we had the right idea, since last week I found my Alma Mater had several buildings under some amount of water. It's built on low land, so this is no real surprise. It has yet to sink into the bog.
Back to the trip. We went to Gatlinburg. Other people went too, but we didn't see much of them. They were giving Ripley their money. We spread ours around. The food was good. That was absolute. Pancakes will never be the same to me, lest I eat them in a log cabin. Also, I found that bulls and fish make great teams for opening grills. And cheesy double beef still only costs 89 cents in Pidgeon Forge. Patrick and I make a great Beer Pong teem, so it would seem. Maybe better than Ryan and I. The two of us haven't played in so long that its almost hard to tell.
School is starting soon. I'm not thrilled about that, but I suppose it will help me to fill the hours of the day. I've gotten back into television, which isn't so hot, but it's summer, so I assume we can let it slide.
I really have nothing to write about. I just woke up from a nap.
Back to the trip. We went to Gatlinburg. Other people went too, but we didn't see much of them. They were giving Ripley their money. We spread ours around. The food was good. That was absolute. Pancakes will never be the same to me, lest I eat them in a log cabin. Also, I found that bulls and fish make great teams for opening grills. And cheesy double beef still only costs 89 cents in Pidgeon Forge. Patrick and I make a great Beer Pong teem, so it would seem. Maybe better than Ryan and I. The two of us haven't played in so long that its almost hard to tell.
School is starting soon. I'm not thrilled about that, but I suppose it will help me to fill the hours of the day. I've gotten back into television, which isn't so hot, but it's summer, so I assume we can let it slide.
I really have nothing to write about. I just woke up from a nap.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Its Thursday, which means its my last day of work this week. I'm off tomorrow, because of a trip to Gatlinburg. It should be pretty fun, I think. Two of my best friends are going to be there. There are other people I'm familiar with as well. Less important.
Last night my supervisor stole me some pizza from a pizza party some other area was having for their lack of on-the-job injuries. It was sausage, which is probably my favorite. He keeps dumping off trainee supervisors so that he can stay with out area longer. We really like having him around, so the longer he can put it off, the happier we are.
In a minute or so, I'm about to leave to go visit my friends, Steven, Megan, and Drucilla (ranked by age, not importance (I'm finding a lot of enjoyment in methodologically listing people in my blogs these days)) at Megan's house. We will be watching Star Trek. The one with William Shatner. I hope to watch the episode "Trouble With Tribbles", as it is my favorite. Then later, back to packing. We leave in the morning.
It really is the simple things in life, isn't it? "Shit is good --- yeah, shit is good."
Last night my supervisor stole me some pizza from a pizza party some other area was having for their lack of on-the-job injuries. It was sausage, which is probably my favorite. He keeps dumping off trainee supervisors so that he can stay with out area longer. We really like having him around, so the longer he can put it off, the happier we are.
In a minute or so, I'm about to leave to go visit my friends, Steven, Megan, and Drucilla (ranked by age, not importance (I'm finding a lot of enjoyment in methodologically listing people in my blogs these days)) at Megan's house. We will be watching Star Trek. The one with William Shatner. I hope to watch the episode "Trouble With Tribbles", as it is my favorite. Then later, back to packing. We leave in the morning.
It really is the simple things in life, isn't it? "Shit is good --- yeah, shit is good."
Monday, August 3, 2009
Weekends
I work night shift. That's not really a secret. Usually I use my weekends to recover from working until four most nights, and sleeping until noon most days, and attempting to act like a normal person. That's not really surprising, I should think. The last couple of weeks haven't been that way.
Last weekend was Burning Dan, which wasn't as great of a success as I would have hoped. Turn out was less than anticipated, but someone unexpected showed up, and I would like to think things are better for that.
This weekend we went to Kings Island. It was Brian, Jordan, Maureen, Me, Michelle, and Pat, alphabetically. I drove, mostly. Pat was awake, mostly. We rode everything, mostly. Firehawk was awesome entirely. We rode it at dusk, so I got the "You can sort've see the ground we want you to think you're about to smash into" effect without having the deal with the "We're going to hoist you up this hill while you lay on your back and stare at the sun" hassle I imagine is sometimes involved. In retrospect, It seems silly that we were at the park for almost twelve consecutive hours and probably rode rides for a total of about five minutes (and that's a generous estimate), but it was definately fun.
The day after Kings Island (which would be Sunday), we went to Indianapolis. It was Brian, Ryan, Me, CJ, and Patrick, in order of descending height (I think). I drove. Pat stayed awake. We saw Social Distortion. It was fun. There was some skinhead who got thrown out of the entirely non-racist punk concert, and a couple of guys wearing Minor Threat shirts, who openly boasted their love for drinking beer. I also got to dance to Ring of Fire, while a Black girl in a Jonas Brothers vest skanked infront of me.
We ate Steak and Shake twice in two days, and I drove something like 300 miles, and spent something near 10 hours in the car. It was pretty sweet, I guess.
This coming weekend is another six hours in the car, followed by three days in the mountains, followed by six hours in the car. I guess I should start packing soon.
Last weekend was Burning Dan, which wasn't as great of a success as I would have hoped. Turn out was less than anticipated, but someone unexpected showed up, and I would like to think things are better for that.
This weekend we went to Kings Island. It was Brian, Jordan, Maureen, Me, Michelle, and Pat, alphabetically. I drove, mostly. Pat was awake, mostly. We rode everything, mostly. Firehawk was awesome entirely. We rode it at dusk, so I got the "You can sort've see the ground we want you to think you're about to smash into" effect without having the deal with the "We're going to hoist you up this hill while you lay on your back and stare at the sun" hassle I imagine is sometimes involved. In retrospect, It seems silly that we were at the park for almost twelve consecutive hours and probably rode rides for a total of about five minutes (and that's a generous estimate), but it was definately fun.
The day after Kings Island (which would be Sunday), we went to Indianapolis. It was Brian, Ryan, Me, CJ, and Patrick, in order of descending height (I think). I drove. Pat stayed awake. We saw Social Distortion. It was fun. There was some skinhead who got thrown out of the entirely non-racist punk concert, and a couple of guys wearing Minor Threat shirts, who openly boasted their love for drinking beer. I also got to dance to Ring of Fire, while a Black girl in a Jonas Brothers vest skanked infront of me.
We ate Steak and Shake twice in two days, and I drove something like 300 miles, and spent something near 10 hours in the car. It was pretty sweet, I guess.
This coming weekend is another six hours in the car, followed by three days in the mountains, followed by six hours in the car. I guess I should start packing soon.
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