March 2008

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“Home” and #005

Spring break is over. After a six hour flight I’m back at school, home, the city of Seattle—whatever. It’s really nice to be back. When I’m home-home, there’s always something going down, some new dramatics to hear about. Some people like that sort of stuff. Others live off of it. I do not. I avoid it like necrotizing fasciitis. Most stuff I just don’t want to hear about. All the good, none of the bad, thanks.

Over break I completed a second item on my list, which is to give away something of sentimental value. I put it on my list in order to challenge the value of material items, blah blah, all that good stuff. So I sold my first electric guitar on eBay for a cool $330.63 including shipping. Pretty good considering it’s value was about $400 brand new three years ago. It is sad to see it go, as I got that guitar specifically to use in my first band, played it for three years, wrote a lot of amateur-sounding songs on it, and had a lot of great times with it. It will be weird to think of it in someone else’s hands, writing someone else’s songs. But I think (hope?) it was for the best.

#050: Confess a Crush

On my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days (which will be posted later when I finish it) I just completed my first item: reveal to a previous crush how I felt about her. I was at a party tonight and told Ashley just how I felt about her way back in Mrs. Hayes’ first grade class. It was delightfully awkward, made only worse by the fact that she was the designated driver and hadn’t had a drop of the drink. Also, her friends had told her earlier that “someone” would reveal it to her, so I was obligated at that point. But she’s good people and took it as not-awkward as someone can when confessed such information fifteen-or-so years after the fact. But I liked her even when she had a bob haircut that her mom probably gave her and before her chest was as large and shapely as it is now. That’s fuckin’ real. It may not be real love, but it was certainly a real first crush.

Anyway, the party was for my good friend and former band-mate Lee who turned twenty-one. It redeemed my faith in New England, because I thought this town didn’t have good parties. But I met lots of great folks and it was nothing if not fun. And we drove home in the snow, goddamn it. What more could you ask for? Happy birthday, Leemo!

My liver is still processing this shit out of my bloodstream. Can you tell?

It’s Not a Tumor. Seriously.

On the downside, I need to see an otolaryngologist and maybe a neurologist and probably get an MRI. On the upside, apparently my hearing is amazing.

I’d like to take a moment, if I may, to explain my blogroll. If you’ve ever seen them and said, hey I wonder how he knows about that site or why he considers them a friend. Or maybe your website is there, and you’re curious as to why I so callously linked you.

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A Water Fountain? Really?

As I hypothesized, I got decent grades and, of course, as I said, not of my own good scholarship. I did not deserve those grades, but I feel the school owed them to me after I received a failing grade from the one of the worst teachers I ever had. If I had to rank him, he’d probably fall second from the bottom—after my second grade teacher, Mrs. Collins.

I got an A, an A minus and a B, by the way. In Theology, French and English. Respectively.

I woke up earlier today than I have all week. That means eleven o’clock. I was having a strange dream that I was at some racist meeting in a warehouse with Edward Norton and we were leaving so as to not get killed by the gang war that was about to ensue. I escaped death by using a drinking fountain. Then I went out into the snow only to meet two kids I knew in primary school, a brother and sister, and two people I didn’t know. It was nice to catch up, until I swore and offended some really religious chick. It was pretty awkward. I felt bad and left, then I woke up.

I suppose that’s better than the dream I had Tuesday night in which I was shot twice with a revolver by my girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend who was released on good behavior from a very minimum security prison which, come to think of it, looked more like a seedy Chinese take-out place than a prison.

He’s actually a really nice guy. And not literally imprisoned. I don’t know why my subconscious just thinks that everyone is going to gun me down at some point.

The rest of the day I watched Worlds Most Amazing Videos on Spike, Mythbusters, and finally played Call of Duty 4. It’s pretty awesome.

Empty

I’ve really got nothing to say right now. It’s late. It’s actually tomorrow, but my blog will tell you it’s yesterday because it’s still set on GMT minus eight.

I’m going to consult my physician on Thursday about my hearing problem. Hopefully it’s just one of those things that’s like, “Here’s some drugs, it’ll be cleared up by the end of the week.” If not, I suppose I can handle ringing for the remainder of my life. It’s only going to be, like, another sixty-four years if I’m lucky, right?

I’m trying to take care of a lot of expenses (needless and not) this week. I would like to upgrade to a new laptop and new eyeglasses, mostly. At the very least, it feels good to be somewhat financially stable for the time being. That’s not something I’ve really ever experienced. I’m not saying it makes all kinds of expenses possible, it just makes it easier to consider them.

I’m such a consumer whore.

We Can’t All Cancun

I have a habit of doing absolutely nothing during school breaks. I make no attempt to adjust to the time difference and end up seeing about four and a half hours of daylight. This break is no different. It doesn’t help that nobody I know has the same spring break as I do and that nobody really sticks around here.

I spent a good chunk of time today watching my brother play Call of Duty 4 on my parents’ massive HDTV. Since when did games get this detailed? I usually play Quake 3 and Team Fortress—not even the new one—Team Fortress Classic. I must be getting old, because a game that detailed—all I could think about was the families of the hundreds of NPCs in the poor countries you end up senselessly mowing down with the latest in military technology, kids playing this and thinking it’s okay that the United States actually has this foreign policy… It still looks hella fun, though.

I may be an English major, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hate some words and phrases in the language:

  • Blogosphere
  • Purchasing power
  • Artsy fartsy
  • “Sketch”
  • Awkward turtle
  • Lou Dobbs

Winds

I don’t know what it is—whether I’m just not used to it anymore or what—but the weather in New England just seems worse and worse every time I get back here. It’s always freezing cold. It’s like no other cold you may know, even. It freezes you to the marrow of your very bones, no lie.

I really enjoyed plane travel for a while there, but I’m not so sure anymore. I get nervous when the plane banks too much or if it feels like the goddamn pilot is having a stroke on take-off and landing. Not gonna lie—it’s irrational—but for a second there I thought I was going to end up in the freezing Atlantic.

Home always feels different when I haven’t been back for over ten weeks. It’s, like, this disconnected change that goes on when nobody really notices, but it’s really kind of significant.

I have no idea what I’m talking about anymore. Have you noticed? Because you should have by now. 

I’m Going Home Tonight

 

Loyalty and Possession

Apparently I’m not as much of a superfan as I thought. Death Cab For Cutie’s new single was released yesterday and somehow I missed it. It’s an interesting direction they’re going in and I’m looking forward to seeing where they take it. You can find the single here.

Did I mention I’m going to see them play over Memorial Day weekend? I will also see the likes of REM, Modest Mouse, Beirut, The Cure, The Presidents, Flight of the Conchords, Rogue Wave, The Flaming Lips and many others

Messy and Class

I just got told by my boss that I don’t have to come in today. It’s always such a blessing whenever he says that, no matter what the hell he’s up to (this time it’s finishing up his paper for his doctorate). I’ve never been one for working—ever—and even though this job is fairly cushy and pays halfway decently I  still don’t like going.

The classes are over, the work is done, the finals completed. Tonight is my last night here before I fly home. It’ll be nice to be home, but I’m worried it will only be this weekend that everyone will be home. The rest of the week I’m worried will be relegated to TFC and The Discovery Channel. Because it’s our last few hours here, we stocked up last night on wineschampagne, and some brews. We may be drunks, but at least we’re fucking classy ones.

It’s probably because I absolutely love the movie, but I’ve been listening to this a lot lately. I highly recommend it.

Awareness Test

I know it’s a PSA, but it’s still funny as hell:

 
 

Objects of My Desire: A List

Things I’ve been jonesin’ for lately:

This quarter has really gotten under my skin, I think. All the stress from work and school and trying to support a relationship caught up with me last night. I went to dinner, came back and just fucking bawled. And even as a dude, it’s no big deal for me to say that; I don’t care. Sometimes there’s just no avoiding the fact that your face has to completely explode for you to just pick yourself the fuck up and move on.

I think that I have good grades this quarter, but not at all of my own doing. I have not worked hard at all on account of how busy I’ve been. I just divvy up all my duties and half-ass everything. But my teachers this quarter are apparently just handing out good grades. I’m convinced my Theology professor didn’t even read my paper when he said, “Your careful class preparation and incisive comments have consistently paid off for us all. I have learned a great deal from what you have had to say.” Odd, to say the least, considering I spoke in that class only twice, and those two instances were in-class presentations.

It’s really hard to take student recruiting seriously when all I hear are lies and pandering and there’s so much that I could say that’s not good about this school right now.

On Wasting Time

My boss for my on-campus non-work study assistant job asked me to wake up this morning and come in at 7:30am. He’s starting a music department and holding auditions today. So I came in and performed exactly four tasks: I printed audition evaluations, got myself and the evaluators coffee, checked Facebook and attempted to learn Avril 14th on the piano in my boss’ office. Such a sad excuse for losing sleep. But Shakespeare gotta get paid, son. So I do it.

Wreckage

This morning at about 1:30am, we witnessed a car accident. Rachel alerted us to it, pointing out from our twelfth-story dorm room window that there was a car swerving on James Ct. between 12th and 13th. It proceeded to plow into something (at the time we couldn’t see what) so loud that we could hear it. We joked about it, thinking it wasn’t serious. A police cruiser was right there to deal with it.

As time went on more and more cruisers showed. Two ambulances came. The outlook was a little more bleak. They took out a gurney and put a sheet over the driver; we’re not sure if it was over his whole person or just below the neck. Though, neither of the ambulances were rushing. It made me miserable to think that I had potentially just witnessed a vehicular fatality. I went down there after class this morning, and it turned out the car hit the side of the Local Laborers #440 union building. There was a big plastic sheet covering the impact, fragments of windshield everywhere, two discarded blue latex gloves, and a damp pamphlet instructing how to put on an Ambu Perfit collar for extrication. A sad sight, to be sure.

In other news, as if Catholicism weren’t strict enough, it just became a little bit more strict.

Also, I think I might have some hearing damage.

Post-script: Sorry, fat fucks. Your time for pie was almost two months agoToday will have to suffice.

An Introduction

So. This website is me moving away from the confinement and one-dimensionality of another blog hosted somewhere else. I wrote in that blog on that website for many years, but it’s quite juvenile and restricting. In fact, potentially you won’t be able to read most of the posts there because they’re friends-only. Counter-intuitive, no?

Part of my purpose with this one, aside from alerting the public domain to my shit, is to develop my narrative style in some way. Another purpose would be to host files and stuff, such as the music I’m in the process of recording. Another is to waste my time expensively.

Anyway, here’s a list of stuff I need to do in the next one week, because I love lists:

  • Find a new lamp (my $14.99 WalMart touch desk lamp broke on me—can’t imagine why).
  • Get through work without choking somebody.
  • Finish this quarter’s finals, and make it through crunch time with my sanity.
  • Get blitzed with what small amount of liquor we have left in the room.
  • Fly home to Massachusetts from Seattle for spring break, and try not to forget anything important.

Do-overs and Restarts

“Having a blog makes you feel, like, totally huge.”

— Chris Walla