Saturday, December 29, 2007

Every day I get a little better, but every day the load grows heavier and heavier. I am *this* close to the begging, and I don't know if I can go through that again.

Oh, and writer's block sucks.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Attend the Tale of Sweeney Todd...

So yes, I did get to go see it, and yes, it is quite good. Depp's pop-y voice did not bother me nearly as much as did the girl from Phantom of the Opera, and frankly speaking, he was born to play that part (along with Helena Bonham Carter as Mrs. Lovitt).
Burton's direction was infringing as usual but it worked perfectly for an overblown, operatic story with its overblown, operatic visuals. Three things stood out in particular: Sweeney running through the streets offering shaves to those who cannot hear him (from the trailer), Johnny Depp's expression throughout Mrs. Lovitt's visions of a happy future, and of course, "A Little Priest", where the loping visuals and blocking matched perfectly the loping, overlapping voices Sondheim dreamt up.

As I said before, Four and a Half Razors out of Five.
Day of Infamy, Part IV (The Truth)
I was going to write an amusing "Exes weigh in" (double pun!) feature today but I got a message of condolence from a good friend who wrote that she was visiting family, including her great-grandmother, who was getting ready to die, because she deeply believes this is her last Christmas.

That put everything in perspective for me. There's a lot of cliches to be said: Life gets a little better every day. Enjoy what you have before it vanishes. God only gives you what you can handle. M*ch*g*n sucks. But cliches get said because they're true.

So this holiday season, go out, be happy, enjoy time with family and friends, let old wounds heal up on their own. You never know how many you're going to have left.

Merry Christmas, E.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Day of Infamy, Part II (Then)
Some of you, after reading my previous blog post ("Day of Infamy, Part I (Now)"), may be under the mistaken impression that what E did to me was the most heartbreaking thing that I've ever experienced, and that I'm broken, desolate, lonely, and on an island. The truth is, young grasshoppers (and I do mean grass -hoppers) that it's been so long since I've experienced *real* heartbreak that this numbing pain I'm feeling right now is just a shadow of what once was. (Real pain won't come until she starts dating someone else in a month or two).

Settle back, young children, and I'll tell you the story of the Original Cold Hearted Bit...ter Lady.

A History Lesson
Once upon a time, when I was a mere lad of sixteen or seventeen years of age, there was a young lady to whom I had taken a fancy to. Regular readers of my correspondence will recall her name, but for tonight we'll simply call her Ms. K.

No, no, kindly reader, not *that* Ms. K (of her we do not speak), but the "extremely small" one.

After some time of courtship (about three months, if my aged memory serves me correctly) we went on a small date that was supposed to be a little mini-reunion after about three weeks of not seeing each other or talking to each other much due to the stresses and portents of our outside lives.

(Does this sound familiar, dear readers?)

And of course my gentle parents were uncomfortable with us being alone together in an empty house, so at my behest Ms. K sighed and entered my automobile for a countryside drive and a long conversation.

I don't know entirely why I forced her to do so; perhaps it was trying to capture the zeitgeist of our very first date (my first real car date; longtime readers will recall the magical tale of that Clifton evening) but suffice to say, things did not go well.

It took me some time in our conversation, parked in front of the flower shop, perhaps about an hour, before I realized the ultimate design of Ms. K's hemming and hawwing- the end of our relationship. And then of course, because I am a gentleman of the old breeding, I gave her an uncomfortably awkward ride home, keeping my back rigid and a neutral look on my face.

I dropped her off at her house, gave her a light peck, and let her go. (And yes, Virginia, this *was* the inspiration for Ashley's final line from "Love Burns").

Then I drove around the corner, to where I was sure she couldn't see me from the vantage point of the house. My eyes were blurring from bitter tears. I stopped the car, put it in park, turned off the lights and now it's just me on that hillside crying, all-out, my entire body wretching itself again and again, the car slipping backwards sympathetically, my ears burning with shame and revulsion, the entirety of it crashing down upon me like a tidal wave of fear and angst and loneliness and insecurity, my acidic tears burning away what happiness I once had.

I screamed and pounded the wheel and mouthed obscenities and clenched and unclenched every muscle in my body like some twisted, demented yoga relaxation exercise and blanched and finally, began to moan out, every word carving a deep, acrid wound into my soul: "Not as I will...but as You will....not as I will...but as You will..."

I know that had I not prayed that, had I not torn myself apart to beg for His help, I would have driven my car right into a wall, right into a river, tried to kill myself and end the misery right there. But somehow (I can't remember how), I managed to make it back home to the cradle of my family, and to comfort.

Eventually, even to peace.

So there. That's the worst it could get. That's when I dug in my heels and decided that it would never happen again.

So, if it makes you feel any better, my latest ex, you weren't as bad as that.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Day of Infamy, Part I (Now)

Sunday, December 17th, a little after 1:00 pm. That was when all the dreams and hopes and fears and loves and lusts and jealousy and desire and wishfulness and relaxedness came to an end.

From an intellectual standpoint, I knew it had to end someday, but "someday" had always seemed so far away. But nonetheless, I kept up with the mental drills, envisioned the end coming a million times over in a million different scenarios, and thought I was prepared for the worst when she and I sat down for a brief "serious chat".

This time, it only took me about two minutes to figure out she wanted to break up with me. Her reasons were pretty simple: this relationship isn't worth the effort i'm putting into it; i'm happy when i'm with you, but not when we're apart; i feel like i'm in a relationship with all the responsibilities but none of the rewards.

I held my mask pretty well; she even commented on how calm and in control I appeared to be. Appeared to be. It took me almost two days to break down, and when I did break down, I did it in the privacy in my room, where she couldn't hear me, late at night when there was no chance of interruptions. That breakdown- tears and all, mind you- was triggered by a well-meant comment from M (sorry man, you couldn't have known how much it hurt): "Hey, if it helps, you're the least likely person that I thought this could happen to over the holidays". I told him thanks, hung up the phone, and broke down crying and screaming and wrecking myself.

The worst part though, was that for two days afterwards because of travel arrangements, I had to stay there and pretend everything was alright. She even tried to keep up with it. She even tried to pretend everything was alright. But I could tell, she was itching for me to leave. Very slowly, she slid along the gradient of acting like we always had, to cooling down, to just ignoring me altogether. That hurt. It hurt even more because I could see she was trying to let me down gently, trying not to hurt me, but to be so close to her and yet so far...

The original analogy I used was that it was like my breakup with K (see below) but instead of taking three hours, it took 3 days, and I was sick as a ****ing dog the entire time. But with hindsight, I know it won't come out to be that bad. It's closer in intensity to how Kristin and I ended it: quietly, sadly, turning away in the rain. Oh, except my lungs were filled with mucus the entire time and her best friend/mother/other friends were there to see the entire self-destruct sequence in HD.

Besides the sadness and the numbing loneliness and the hurt and the pain, there was, of course, the rage at life and fate and God and E (a little) for the way this had happened:

-She said that KA's breakup with her boyfriend had sort of triggered the melancholy feeling that led to our breakup; of course, that event and mood coincided with the exam period during which I was most stressed and we couldn't communicate much, if at all.

-I almost broke myself trying to get everything done so that I would be stress-free and ready to be carefree when I reached E. The result of course was that I got sick and wasn't thinking or acting at 100%...

-There's the effort and planning in everything I did: the comic book, the money I was squirreling away so I could surprise her at college, the ideas I had stored up for her birthday and our anniversary (now stillborn) etc. etc....of course now it's all going to waste.

-If only we had more time...if only we had more time...if only we had more time...there's still a part of me that still holds out hope, that we can work through this, and so I'm all jumpy when the phone rings, but it's not going to be her. She's probably already forgotten me, but at least she had the courtesy to try to ease the pain by sniffling and saying things like "this might be a huge mistake" and "I just don't know what I really want" and "Lauren's going to kill me" etc. etc.

-She wants to explore and get out and find new options and I should have realized, a spirit like hers deserves more than what I can give her. If she was truly as miserable as she said she was, it's my duty to let her go free, no guilt, no pain. She deserves to be free.

And that's the part that hurts me the most. I know what the right thing to do is, and the right thing to do is to let her go. I can't call, I can't beg, I can't try to manipulate her (not that that ever works), and most importantly, I have to put aside my own feelings and hope that she finds someone who will make her truly happy. I was a shitty enough boyfriend when we were together, but maybe I can assuage it by wishing her well.

Mrs. Smith: "Love is just wishing another well."

Well (no pun intended), my thought on the matter is if E's relationship with me didn't hold water (har har har, I am such a Punster) I want her to find someone who will give her happiness.

That's the official line. It's going to take me a while before I can find the courage and the love and the maturity to truly want it. But I'm going to pray for her happiness, and I ask that for those of you who are religious, that you pray for her happiness too. If I pray long enough, I will find that I really do find the fierce Christian joy of loving another unconditionally, and this pain and meanspiritedness in me will be lifted.

So fuck you, Huck Finn, you *can* pray a lie, and it's going to work for me.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Saw the preview for "The Dark Knight" today in IMAX...the first five minutes of the film (the introduction of the central villain) was screened and it certainly has that efficient Nolanesque touch. I don't know if it would necessarily stand on its own as an independent film the way he explained it, but it was fun.

And Heath Ledger is CREEPY

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Dallas 28, Detroit 27

"America's Team" beats "God's Team"...between that, and the Golden Compass movie coming out, is America trying to say something to God?

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

A poem by Paul Muldoon, inspired by fMRI processes, grabbed from

Once I Looked Into Your Eyes

Once I looked into your eyes

and the only tissue I saw through

was the tissue of lies

behind everything you do.

Once I looked into your heart

and imagined I could trace

the history of the art

of deception in your face.

Now there’s something more than a chance

of making molecules dance

I'm somewhat gratified to find

that by laser-enhanced

magnetic resonance,

if nothing else, I may read your mind.

By Paul Muldoon

Monday, December 03, 2007

Why I Want to be Rich and Famous

There are several vain, selfish, egotistical reasons reasons why I want to be a rich and famous screenwriter (soon!):

1) So I can produce an adaptation of "Fighting Faith" into either a pair of movies or a miniseries, with Evanna Lynch and/or Zooey Deschanel as Ellen/Ylleni.
2) So I can have Viggo Mortensen play Ivan in "Changing of the Guard"
3) So I can produce a correct version of "Stellar Dogs", complete with politically incorrect message and aliens who speak Chinese.
4) So I can have "Syncophant Dawn" made into a videogame by Valve or Bethesda (or *sigh* Bioware or Obsidian if neither of those companies are available)
5) So I can option the Fallout trilogy into a movie series. The first one would create a female protagonist ("Pat", of course) and be a deep, allegorical look at leaving a sheltered world and going into the rough and tumble outside (parallels to leaving home for college) as well as homophobia in small-town communities. Those of you who've played the game through to its bitter end know what I'm talking about.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Chick Flicks/Romantic Comedies I Can Actually Watch Without Wanting to Commit Seppuku

1) My Best Friend's Wedding
Five words: Julia Roberts is the villain.

2) Father of the Bride
Say what you will about Steve Martin, but his performance in this film made me feel nostalgic about fatherhood- and I don't have kids (as far as I know...). The wedding planner character made me mildly ill though.

3) Hitch
Will Smith and the-guy-from-King-of-Queens-and-the-theater-ads save what could have been a truly terrible movie. (And let me reiterate: this could have been a TERRIBLE movie)

4) Fever Pitch
Not realistic at all, but bearable.

5) Jackie Brown
Technically not a "chick flick"...but it has chicks in it...with guns...and a surprisingly mature story (mature as in grown-up, not adolescently preoccupied with sex and perversion) about getting old and getting ready.

The fact that two of my movies are about middle age worries me.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Mass Effect: The Catholic Mission

(sorry, I couldn't resist the double pun)

So we just got the game for 360 and I started playing it a while back. My brother got home and I let him run through the first part. It was eerie watching him play. Even though the opening is extraordinarily linear, there are still branching dialogue paths, actions, brother picked almost exactly the same moves, exactly the same nice-but-direct dialogue choices...hrmm...

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Watch this, and then read the Wikipedia article on it. If it doesn't run your blood cold...

Saturday, November 10, 2007

And if I were...a squiggly wiggly worm...I'd thank thee Lord for my awesome 70s perm...

Sometimes it is really easy to forget the simple joys of life among the whirlwind of college. Between partying, studying, activities, stress, illness, drama, and cleaning people's guts off the carpet, there are some things you forget about:

-Sleeping in, and then getting up without an alarm clock.

-Fried chicken and Southern barbecue.

-Cold Coke (like the drink, not the drug)

-A really hot shower.

-Ice cream.

-A big steaming mug of hot chocolate on a cold day, sipped slowly as it cools until there's nothing but a chilly dredge of pure chocolate remains on the bottom.

-What I did tonight: going to an empty basketball court, and shooting simply for the joy of shooting. No competition, no worrying about other people, just you and a hoop and a ball, and the clanging and the swishing and the squeaking echoing about, until your arms hurt and your legs burn and for a moment, you're 11 years old again panting on a paved driveway with a ghetto chewed-up net and a sweatshirt and ratty shoes and your breath frosting up the cold air and your father there next to you, not smiling but not frowning, a grim, physical joy in the air.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007


Monday, November 05, 2007

Things I Have Learned in College

1) People have many heartbreaking stories, but none so bad as those of fPendl

2) 8:30 classes are 1/2 an hour later than high school start times, and you need 1/2 a night more sleep to deal with them

3) Firefly is still flying in our hearts

4) Girls are girls are girls, everywhere you go

5) Guys, on the other hand, are very different from back at Eggsavier.

6) Duct tape + red Santa hat + Xmas stockings with the bottoms cut out to go over your shoes + red velvet menopause pants = very good ghetto halloween costume

7) The girls are always hotter on the other campus

8) Your roommate will never have the same schedule as you

9) Professors only seem nice, and only look human

10) Everyone on campus is in better shape than you, no matter how many reps you can do (and most of them are hotter)

Monday, October 29, 2007

I got my ticket to the "and the Sunshine Gang" Airport Today!!!

Assuming nothing terrible yet predictable happens, I will see you in December. *Joker Cackle*

Saturday, October 27, 2007

I have just calculated, and the current period of my angst cycle is about one month, 22 days, give or take about a week. The amplitude (intensity) of my cycle increases as the relationship goes on, until it culminates in the end.
This begs the question: is the rate of my angst dAngst/dt linear, or differential? That is to say, does the prolonged relationship cause the period to lengthen? Or the peak to rise?

More questions for later.
In Case You Were Wondering:
Here is a list of things I will not be dressing up as or pretending to be during Halloween:

1) Willy Wonka (with or without a candy cane)
2) A M*ch*g*n Fan
3) Neo from the Matrix
4) Pimpin' Willy Wonka (with or without a Candy Cane, if you get my drift)
5) Samuel L. Jackson (unless I can find a Jheri curl)
6) Religious retreatant
7) Creepy Neverland-ranch-esque Willy Wonka
8) Normal
9) Frat boy (go search "Brohemian Rhapsody" on CollegeHumor if you want to know why)
10) Harry Potter
11) Kid voted "most likely to survive Pre-Med"
12) Jesus
13) The other Mike Myers (if you get my drift)

Friday, October 26, 2007
Rain Man

I've noticed it rains whenever I feel angsty, so as a public service to the community of Durham, I will be feeling angsty for at least a few more days to make sure we're well supplied with water for the winter.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Apologies from the management:

The preceding poem/post was ATROCIOUS. We will return to our normally scheduled $#!^ in a little bit.

In honor of the gloom and crappy mood, I'm going to bestow upon both of my faithful readers a crappy emo poem:

"Single Integrated Operations Plan"

Quoth the Bard,
Cowards die many times before their death; the valiant taste of death but once.
What does that say about us?
We dream of it,
Plan it,
Fantasize about it,
Practice it,
A beautiful, fiery annihiliation.
The End. Of Everything.
The world. My life. My love.
Everywhere we stand,
Our fingers on the triggers,
Over the red buttons,
Staring each other down.

It will be ugly.
It plays on endless loop in my nightmares,
The end of Aquarius,
The end of warm cookies,
The end of the album,
The Beatles broke up.

"I just don't care about you anymore
"Let's just be friends
"It's too hard
"There's someone else
"Doveryai, no proveryai
"It's not you it's me [but it's you]
"Peace in our time
"Peace without victory
"Peace be with you
lies lies lies lies lies lies
you just don't want me anymore

So you'll take the nuclear option,
Cradle the Football,
And erase the two of us from the earth forever
I know.
I've seen it.

So am I a coward?
I have no doubt.
I've visualized, planned, practiced,
Every conceivable way,
So I'll be ready,
Ready so you can't break me,
With your tears and your anguish and your angst

It all means the same,
"I don't want you anymore."
I've watched you from a distance as you walk away from us,
I've watched you from your eyes,
From my eyes,
I watch myself collapse,
Fall deep into the singularity,
Ash and fire and winter-nuclear,
The meek shall inherit the earth.

So am I a coward?
I've died a thousand times,
A million times,
Hardening myself.
I have food and water and shelter stored away,
I'll be king under a mountain,
And I'll remember,
"One death is a tragedy,
A million deaths is a statistic."

Quoth the Bard,
"Cowards die many times before their death; the valiant taste of death but once."
But I'll be a coward,
Quoth another Bard,
"Since the man that runs away/lives to die another day"

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Thoughts for the Day

-Carson McCullers on Love: "There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries...And somehow every lover knows this. he feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness, and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer..." (How true...)

-Andy Roddick on Love: "It never lasts long, especially if you suck." (Oh, Andy, don't feel bad...)

-fPendl on Love: "****ing first."

-The Beatles on Love: "All you need is [it]"

-The one thing I have any talent in is creative, freewheeling writing. Here is my schedule through the first two semesters: Chemistry, Chemistry Lab, Computer Programming, Seminar, Chemistry 2, Chemistry 2 Lab, Biology 2, Biology 2 Lab, Seminar, Academic/Formal Writing.

-The one thing Ohio State does well is defense. Here are their first round draft picks from the last two years: WR, WR, WR, MLB, S, WR.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Books You Should Read to Have a Happy, Joyful Life (in order)

1) Song of Solomon
2) Oedipus Trilogy
3) Hamlet
4) Wuthering Heights
5) The Bell Jar
6) Love Burns: The Manga
7) Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
8) A Clockwork Orange (American version/British version without 21st chapter)
9) All the King's Men
10) The Short Stories of Ernst Hemingway (Esp. "Up in Michigan" and "The Short Happy Life of Francis MacComber")
11) The Great Gatsby
12) As I Lay Dying

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

For Country Music Fans;_ylt=AgESiRES6uU6.s904i8kFKyr0op4?slug=ms-paytonchesney&prov=yhoo&type=lgns

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

My First Broadcasting Experience
No, it was not like "Prairie Home Companion"...but it was pretty cool to crowd around a mic with another frosh and sprout out about sports for an extended period of time. I'm not going to lie, knowing that an enormous national audience of four mil- four people is listening to your regurgitation of the collective SI-ESPN-SG-TMQ-J opinion of the World Wide World of Sports (and by World-Wide we mean "American Football") is pretty damn cool.

Thankfully, the conversation didn't affect baseball at all (let's see: Reds=....) but there were a few times my informed opinion turned out to be a little less than kosher. Thankfully, none of the fou-three people who were listening were hardcore enough to care.

In any event, block off your calendar every Sunday from 7:00-8:30 so you can go running or something and listen to the smooth, sweet, dulcet tones of my voice.

Unless you bought the hype and got an iPod, in which case you're- [censored by the FCC].

Thursday, September 06, 2007

From a season preview at

Patriots at Jets: Time now to spice things up with a supermodel-laden drama, Tom Brady style.

As you probably know, Brady spent the off-season torn between two hotties. While ex-squeeze Bridget Moynahan carried Brady's baby, current flame Gisele Bundchen planned nuptials and publicly criticized her beau for spending too much time with Moynahan. Brady found himself surrounded by high-maintenance prima donnas with unrealistic demands for his time and attention. And that was before the Patriots traded for Randy Moss.

Brady certainly had a lot on his mind. Bundchen spent August trying on Dior and Chanel wedding dresses while finalizing guest lists. "They want to keep it small and simple," one Bundchen buddy told a tabloid. Presumably, that means Norv Turner is planning the services. Moynahan, meanwhile, moved from New York to Los Angeles to avoid paparazzi; Al Davis promptly sued her, claiming that Los Angeles is still his territory. A Bill Belichick student to the core, Brady made sure that the press didn't know the baby's due date: Moynahan was listed as "questionable" on the injury report from April through mid-August. Finally, the blessed moment came, and Brady was at Moynahan's side as she gave birth to a son. He was named John Edward Thomas Moynahan, which sounds like the Democratic presidential ticket in 2012.

At least Brady knew what to expect from Uncle Eric Mangini as a shower present. Mangini is a big fan of those "Build Your Baby's Brain" CDs. He even started pumping Mozart into Jets film sessions to get his players to focus better. The classical concepts are seeping into the team's system: they will now use an "Allegro" offense for two-minute drills but switch to a "Lento" offense when nursing a lead late in the game. Mangini hopes the Mozart therapy can help the Jets improve in a variety of areas, including the run defense, which ranked dead last in the league in DVOA last year.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

57 Rules for Being a College Football Fan

Topical, yes, hilarious, yes.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

I didn't make it.

But I got to see two very good comedians and performers. So it was worth the time.

Maybe they have intramural improv.

Monday, September 03, 2007

I was wondering why college seemed to be more than a little breezy compared to the heavyweights of high school- just disorientation (literally-damn frat parties- and figuratively), a little homesickness, and a little alienation (OK, a lot of alienation, and did I mention the damn frat parties are AlienNation?). Then I realized that this isn't the "real" college experience: the weather is still warm, we're only just doing our first lab, clubs haven't started, my friends back home haven't started yet...

When fall turns to winter (you know what I'm talking about) it's going to come like an icy shower on a Monday morning, all the pain and humiliation I've banked away or mortgaged coming back with the rebound effect of an entire year (10 months until it'll be two exactly since it's early tuesday morning) that I stole away.

Some say my world will end in fire, and some say in ice. Either way, it's going to suck like the mohr pipet I have to learn to use tomorrow morning at 8:30.

For those of you who are a little upset over this post, having expected to find comedy, I apologize. I just wanted to have a written record of this lovely Emo (now with 25% more angst!) feeling so that when I forget it and finish off my blissful soap bubble dream life and return to reality, I won't be surprised, because I'll know that at least for one short period of time I knew it was coming.

Thank you. We apologize for the inconvenience, and will soon return to our regularly scheduled irreverency (and I'll post a report of my disastrous DUI tryout tomorrow)

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Sunday Sunday football football....

Yes, I did go to the game on Saturday, and yes, I did see my school's hope of a one-win season evaporate (along with Michigan's...), and no, it was nowhere near as good as I feared. Imagine a stadium slightly larger than Nippert, hosting a game between West Hi and Amelia. Then imagine fewer fans. That's kind of what it was like.

When someone got hurt [from our own team!!!!], I raised my one finger into the air in support, and NOBODY ELSE DID. That's how much of a basketball school we are. Also, instead of yelling or chanting for kickoff, we rattled keys. It was terrible.

I miss home.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Asian Student Association Meeting

So, for those of you who were wondering whether Asians can have frats too, you were right! There were two lovely representatives at the ASA meeting in the aforementioned title. Note to self: do not go to an Asian Student Association Meeting, because there are Asians there.

I've never seen so many Asians packed into a small space at once. It was terrifying. I didn't know there were that many Asians in North America- I'm sure they shipped them in from some other continent, like Canada or Kentucky or something.

Speaking of other continents, as they introduced themselves and plugged their respective organizations, a guy from the local Asian frat went up and proclaimed that his frat was the largest and most international, since they had 46 chapters, one of which was actually in this mysterious, Dry country called Canada.

And if you were wondering whether Asians can be in sororities, yes, they can! And it scares the living daylights out of me. Sororities, along with football teams and the automotive industry, were the last bastions of white power. Now they're coming for us, and I'm going to be sitting on my porch with a Remington sawed-off shotgun and a jug of moonshine ready to take them down.

And if that doesn't work, I have Korean For Dummies, fresh kimchi, and a set of chopsticks with cartoon instructions to try to get on their good side. That's good, right, brother zhong guo ren?

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Lest anyone think I'm antisocial...
I actually did try to attend a frat party last night, mildly offcampus (within two streets, and coincidentally right where Mike Nifong spun some reelection dreams) with a few friends. I had apparently suffered some head trauma and forgotten why I hate this sort of parties so damn much.
Imagine a mixer (and I've written extensively about this topic, so don't pretend like you can't) except with beer, so people look stupid, and lighting, so people look stupid, and enormous quantities of people packed into a very small place, so people feel stupid, and cops that come up with lights a'flashing (suprisingly, as far as I could tell they were the only ones flashing that evening), so that the neighbors can have some peace and quiet. Thankfully, it was the "good guy" cops who gave the two seniors out on the lawn a lecture and let us move on before hitting the big fish.

Then we went back to some dorm with an AC'd common room and watched the end of an extraordinarily amusing Colbert report, one featuring Richard Branson, the rebel billionaire. It was great. Unfortunately, finding out that none of them had heard of Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law was not so great. I'm afraid that some of my fellow Scholars are simply not up to standards on ADD pop culture. More about that later.

Finally, a large enough group got together that I was able to play in my first pickup ultimate game since fPendl's pre-grad party party. Unfortunately, we had a pair of bombers on one side (and not the kind you want to play) and a bunch of inexperienced players on both sides, and it got ugly pretty fast. But still, playing Ultimate late at night is da Bomb.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Joy asked me to put her in the blog, so here she is.

Some of you may remember an ill-conceived plan to take Salsa lessons (dance, not cooking) as a big group at Forest Fair. It failed for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the entire plan being forgotten under the stress of junior year.

Well, for my little program at the University Tom Wolfe Made Fun Of and Chapel Hell, they had an icebreaker involving merengue and salsa lessons (again, dance, not cooking/dessertmaking). It was difficult for us, not the least because we were all tired and grumpy and being difficulted by the awkwardturtleness of having to re-meet 30ish people and remember all their names. Also, having a girl-guy imbalance didn't help (although there were definitely more girls than would have been at a similar event at my previous place of education).

And unlike the last time I tried salsa, Laura wasn't there to trip and fall and harm herself, so I actually did pretty well, though we were all outdone by a licorice-legged and harpy-hipped young gentleman named Marc (not Mark, as he vigorously asserts) . Salsa is fun if you have the a partner who is forgiving and actually wants to be there. We swapped until I ended up with a certain aforementioned young lady, who wasn't the best pure dance partner/music combo I've ever had (that distinction still belongs to Kathleen/the DJ from the semi-informal thingy at St. U), but damned close, and probably better if it hadn't been for the fact that we were stumbling through a Tostitos dip.

I'm starting to feel far more enthusiastic about this whole thing.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Religion in Harry Potter

Scroll down to about 40% of the way through to the heading "God and Man at Hogwarts"

Saturday, August 04, 2007

So True....

Thursday, July 12, 2007

A few notes:
1) I was visiting fPendl at camp the other day and we were stuck on his cabin porch in a rainstorm. As the darkness settled over the camp it continued to resemble a shower with too much water pressure outside the porch, so we stayed there and watched a frog hop around as his friend JarJar played the banjo (I kid you not). It was like something out of a movie.
2) S is possibly the first person in the history of our illustrious company to decry one of our films as as "misogynistic". I always knew she was smart.
3) Agar plates smell like gravy

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Why Not?
Here's why I choose not to.

1) My religion and my God say it's wrong.
2) From my own experiences with the Dark Under Belly (pun intended) I know what it'll do to my soul, my relationships with the girls I know in my own life, and my own self. It will feel good for a few minutes (a lot of minutes) but in the end, it will warp my life into a hellish nightmare that I can't quit even if I want to.
3) I'm worried about health.
4) I'm worried about performance.
5) I don't feel the need to act out. Yet.
6) The less I enjoy now, the better my life later will be.

And most importantly,

7) It gives me a false sense of superiority over my peers

Sunday, May 20, 2007

She was here for forty-eight blissful hours, a brief vacation from reality, a little bubble of happiness in a cruelly inconsistent, endlessly tearing world.

Now she's gone, and I'm crushed.

But it was a nice vacation.

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Today was the end of year Big Buddies/Little Buddies picnic: games, soccer, frisbee, grilling, insuficient amounts of sugary juice, freakishly good 8-year-old-runningbacks dominating touch football, etc. etc.

Normally this isn't a big deal for me; after all, for three straight years I always told Calvin to shape up over the summer since I'd be back next year. But this year I couldn't. At the end of it I had to tell my two little ones that I wouldn't be back next year, that I wouldn't even be able to visit.

It was the first time I truly realized that it's all coming to an end.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

I was writing my rejection notes, and saved the one from Brown for last. Some of the notes provided were brusque; some were fawning; some were arrogant. And of course, just to deepen the wound, the Student Withdrawal Card from Brown says "If you decide to return this card to Brown and matriculate elsewhere, remember that we would not have admitted you if we did not believe you would thrive here. Any college will be lucky to have you."

I'm rapidly reaching a lower point.