26 September 2005

Theory or something

"The knight hath kicked thee in thy face, and when thou has woken up, thine armor was out of style."--[bénxa]

Due to the non-graphical restraints that I put myself under I will try my darndest to describe the associated drawing to the following theory. Ahem....

Picture thus: A road. At the end of said road there is some sort of junction. Two ways in which you can go. You can take path 1 or path 2. Path 1 leads to a place that we'll call outcome A. Path 2 leads us down a very different path that can encompass outcome B or outcome C. All of this will be explained. So, we'll say this:

1->A
2->B or C

As you might have guessed already, this is probably about dating. We're wired this way [The peoples I live with and I]. So let us get going already.

You're on a path, you know, minding your own beeswax and whatnot. Things going along just fine. Then, you see a crossroads of some sorts ahead. You feel that something has to happen or be done. More or less you want something to happen. No ifs ands or buts. You get the idea. You have two options.

1. Take no action*. Things move slow and run their course. Results are highly unpredictable. You can't be sure of anything. Hence, outcome A inevitably taken. Possible crossings of outcomes B or C but not both. Possibilities of losing ones mind is a considerable risk. Actually, it nears 100%.

2. Action is taken**. CAUTION: Possible actions to take are limitless. Results may vary and depending on action, may ensure outcome B or outcome C in their varying levels of intensity.

Outcome B: Actions more likely smooth, subtle. Things go the way hope. Handle experiences as the come. Possible funkiness but all is worked out smoothly.

Outcome C: Actions more likely abrupt, drastic. Probable funkiness at high levels. As are levels of awkward. Lessons are learned. Take life as it comes. Re-evaluate procedures and courses of action.

C:\>Good luck_

*--action not taken unless opportunity arises.
**--opportunity is created and hence, action is taken.

23 September 2005

Oh so very irksome

"How many times do I have to kill you boy?!"--Jafar, Aladdin

So I'm ill. My face feels funky but at least I don't have the symphony. Bowels are still feeling weird though. Okay, that was disgusting, I'm sorry. But the face and the throat and the coughing and either side of the sinus is completely clogged. bleh...Hence, I called in sick and I played hooky with all my classes. I still need to be productive though. We'll see.

So, doing my own thing at the apartment earlier today when the phone rings. It's for me. It's one of those Wells Fargo peoples trying to get me to purchase some insurance stuff. I think somewhere in their I picked up another conversation going on when somehow not too much later I think I was transfered to another representative going on about the same kind of thing but recording me. I'm annoyed by these people. This is basically the fourth or fifth time that they have called soliciting some sort of insurance. I have accepted none. Don't these people get the idea? I just want you to keep track of my money, not anything else. How many times do I have to listen to you people explain the deal and assume that I'm going to purchase your insurance? I heard you well enough. The answer is still no! You should have known that three phone calls ago! Jerkweeds! I dislike phone solicitors. Please make them go away!

So some things just need to die. Ex: whatever infection that's prouncing about in my innards and those stupid phone solicitings. Thanks!

19 September 2005

Ah...the smell of fermentation!

"Palatal-alveolar goodness."--[bénxa]

One of the many non-perks of walking up to campus is thus: stupid plum trees. I mean, somebody should do something about those plums. They're just left there. They get ripe, too ripe and then drop and sit there for quite some time. Enough so that they go bad. Bad enough to where I wouldn't be surprised if they started knocking over liquor stores. I think one of them threw a water bottle at me last fall. That was weird.

Yeah, so this morning walking up to campus I smelled that ever so egregious smell of plum in the process of fermentation. Some days my eyes start doing the twithing thing and my sinuses cease to function for several hours. It's kind of funky. I feel like I can stomp around the mess of fruit, bottle the "juice" and sell it for $1.95 a pint. Of course that would probably destroy my soul.

So the rottingness of anything in my opinion always has some sort of foul stench. Which brings me to some weird thought. Like taste buds, do we also have smell buds? Come to think of it, we probably have something like them but are not in the form of "buds". Maybe they're in the form of "pals"? I'm shutting up.

17 September 2005

As written on the vanity mirror

"The walls in the 53rd precinct are bleeding."--Ghostbusters

Thank heavens for dry erase markers. We write notes to help us remember to acquire certain goods and what have you. Thus following was written on the mirror over the past while:

WE NEED TP

1. Toxicology Pampering
2. Tennis Players
3. tiny pickles
4. Tuba Packering
5. Trail-blazing Peacocks
6. Trim Perpetrators
7. Tourist Police
8. Turbulent Parasites
9. Tripe Popsicles
[they're intestilicious!!]
10. Tandem Parachutes
11. Titanic Pants
12. Trail-blazing poodles
13. Turtle Pouch
["I'll just put that in my turtle pouch"]
14. Traveling Penguins
15. Talkative Portals
[labyrinth?]
16. Terrifying Plankton
17. Translucent Porridge
18. Triumphant Pummelings
19. Terrorist Pizza
20. Telekenetic Pastors
21. Telemarketers Punishment
22. Time Preserves
23. Turbid Pineapple-juice
["Just like mom used to make!"]
24. Toiletry Prowess
25. Tablative Perfection
26. Towdry Pixies
27. Tortugas Perversas
28. Tender Pterodactyls
29. Tsar Psychosis
30. Treacle-flavored Phytoplankton
31. Tepid Pancreas
32. Trembling Polygons
33. Took, peregrine
34. Torturous Pilates
35. Treacherous Parakeets
36. Tangy Pistoliers
37. Typewriter Poop
38. Tater-tot Puke
39. Tyrannical Paraguayans
[Viva Stroessner!!]
40. Temporary Punks
41. Trash-talking Playuhs
42. Traveling Pants
[sisterhood of?]
43. Treacled Postage-stamps
44. Territorial P_______?
45. Tap-Dancing Pipsqueaks
46. Tupperware Pokémon
47. Typecast Pirates

15 September 2005

Shut up Billy Corgan!!

"Give a cadaver an aspirin and see if it feels better."--Prof. Pope

This past weekend was kind of crazy. Most weekends are almost always something else but this one a little more so. So, as you may already know, I happened to lose my Moleskine on Friday. There was some freaking out and what have you. I'm sure that most people would feel rather funky if two months of their life had disappeared. Just so happens that having left contact information in the Moleskine someone had found it and had emailed me. Got that email Saturday night. I was so very happy. I got it back today. Good things do happen.

Story time: So I had dropped my Moleskine sometime during my Political Science 150 [Comparative Governments] class. I didn't notice. During Math 112 is when the discovery was made that I was missing said Moleskine. Once again with the freaking out part. I have my Political Science 170 [Intro to International Relations] in the same room as my PS 150 class. I looked for it some. Not there. Now the thing was, the person who found it, was a PS 170 TA and found it on the podium just after that class had ended. So my Moleskine was in that classroom for about four hours before she picked it up. I am guessing that it went through at least one other persons hands to get to the podium so on. Then I get the email on Saturday night. Monday all is returned. Good deal.

You could say that I am a little more prepared for loss. I'm just trying to take care of myself. Now I just need to take care of a lot of homework. And we all know that homework is no fun at all. Drat!!

11 September 2005

I'm Cheese

"I got distracted by your game winning cracker."--Melanie Tomlison

Who is this man with the can of toxic waste in the middle of the park? How does this person come across any toxic waste at all? Sure, we all know that the stuff affects and does weird things to anything close to its proximity. And I don't think diluting it with water will do us much good. Hence, I got turned into cheese. And if I'm cheese, I think I would probably be pepper jack flavored. hmm....pepper jack.

Wait a second...What the crap am I doing running through toxic waste anyway? No normal human being in his right mind would go skipping through anything not FDA approved. Cool things do not happen when running through toxic waste. None of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle stuff. No DareDevil. My nothing will get enhanced. The Green Goblin and the Joker are both very creepy. I would exactly call those enhancements because both of them are really MESSED.

Also, I am reminded of the Blaster Master story. I'm going off on that sequence of images that runs when you don't press start at the title screen. Why on earth would a normal family have a drum of toxic waste in their backyard right in between their tractor and corn field? Does that seem wrong to anyone besides me? I hope so. And why is there some massive hole by the drum of toxic waste where at the bottom is some sort of titanium vehicle and why didn't I die from that 100 foot fall? This makes no sense to me whatsoever. But that space age suit fits very nicely.

Toxic Waste: Does the body bad!

10 September 2005

Fire-dancer lost

"Standing in front of the mirror to sketch in this strip, I was glad I work in the privacy of my own home."--Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes Tenth Anniversary Book, p. 146

So, over the past year and some, I have gotten into journal writing. I thank my very good friend JHVO for starting me on the habit. The thing that helps incredibly is the small little notebook that I am able to carry around anywhere I go. These notebooks are courtesy of none other than Moleskine [check the link on the sidebar to the left]. I value my 'skines very much. I've been writing in one since 11 July, 2004. About every four months I finish one and start out new. Yesterday however, I lost no. 4. Slipped out of my pocket somewhere between Political Science 150 prior to Calculus. Two months of my life have just disappeared somewhere on campus. Talk about feeling a void. I was wiggin' out.

As worried as I was I have found peace. A couple of things that helped me out. I read an article of the New York Times that lifted my soul. And here's a link to a site that is mentioned in said article. Once again, inspiration can be found in the weirdest of places. Another site.

I know that the Moleskine cannot be replaced. I hope it will be refound in my presence. Having left my name, address and phone number I still have hope it will be returned. Though I can't expect its return. Having dwelled on this for over 12 hours now, I am feeling much better. A half used notebook will find itself in the hands of someone I don't know at all. What's wrong with that? Nothing. My thoughts, experiences, quotes from others and opinions are written down in that thing. Someone will get to know me through that Moleskine. I'm okay with that.

Why do we write? I write to explain me to myself. To help discover who I am. I like to keep track of myself and my thoughts. It's second nature to me now. I write not to keep things hidden. I write to share who I am. These books will eventually go to the people I love. Somehow, I will become real in the imaginations of those people. I might influence them as a friend. We have the ability to reach out to who knows how many people. I write to leave myself behind. I will be imagined as me. I cannot ask for anything else.

To those who write: You will be found.

01 September 2005

I should be 30 ft. to my right

"You opened my cheese wrong!! I'm bitter!"--Summer

Classes started this week. Joy of all joys. I am bursting with excitement. I have quite the class schedule. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays are beastly. Three classes in one classroom. So, that should become my favorite room because if not, I'm screwed!!

I know campus pretty well. I can find my way just about anywhere. I should be that well versed, I've been here going on three years now. So I'm going to my math class. We all know that there are about 40 gwazillion math classes in that stupid building. I get in and of course it's MATH 112 and/or Calculus 1. All is happy about 10 minutes into the class period I discover I'm in the wrong section. This has never happened to me before. I'm in the right level of math, but not in the correct section. I should be 30 ft. over in the classroom next to me. I decided to stay for the remaining time. Room 104 is basically the same as room 108. Just different TAs and a slightly different homework schedule. Ah well.

Already I hate the math. Good thing I don't have to take anything higher than this. As for math goes. I'm not sure exactly how we are supposed to understand this stuff. I had to buy a new book. And after having done some homework last night I discovered myself writing lame comments in it. I own the book. I can pretty much do whatever. Hence, I will. I still intend on having a good time around here. I have a billion things to do and a zillion homework to do. Got Happy Pirates "try-outs" tonight. I hope to keep some sort of balance. Maybe a scale.