Musing

On Turning 21 or The Fallacy of Growing Up The birthday that finally awards everyone full adult status is often considered the last birthday to look forward to. After that, you're Just Getting Older. But let's all be honest - there probably isn't a soul living on this earth who actually declined any form of alcohol until he or she turned 21 years of age. To me, it seems like there is even less reason to celebrate at 21. Where's the excitement/pleasure in doing something that is now 100% legal? Is it the ability to go to bars? Those smokey holes would quickly be in the red if they expected me to support them in any way, shape, or form. Is it the ability to finally walk into a liquor store alone? Excuse me while I laugh at your joy in that childish pleasure. Weren't we done growing up at 16? Once you're old enough to work and drive, what integral part of life is left? 18 years of life gets you assorted legal rights which most of us never have to...

Well Damn or Why My Mother Should Not Empty My Wastebaskets Before I go any farther, I should probably say that this post has nothing to do with finding used condoms in the trash. There, I said it. I had found a paper, dated back to the winter of 02-03, entitled "An Incomplete List of Some of the Funniest Ways to Die Laughing." I had intended to copy it here and polish it up a little bit, but I accidentally trashed it earlier. Apparently, Mom also emptied the trash in here earlier for some reason. So the poor post has been lost. :-( I will do my best to recreate it to the best of my ability. Sometime in the near future, anyway. This new bloggy goodness is going to take some getting used to, but I think I'm going to like it. Ignore any extra commentary-type links. Note: This is my 100th post! Yay! Too bad it sucked.

Taking Care of Homeless People or If You Know Me, You Already Know What I Mean Who the hell do homeless people think they are? How many of them have you seen walking around with shopping carts full of their belongings? Shopping carts. I have grave doubts about the origins of those carts. They should have to carry licenses or paperwork or something for them. As far as I can figure, most of those carts were probably stolen from somewhere. Stolen!! We've all seen the signs in the parking lots of stores that encourage us to return the carts to save ourselves money (although I'm not exactly sure how that saves us money, I'm willing to take their word for it). I don't claim to be an expert in the law, but I'm pretty sure that being homeless doesn't allow you to harvest shopping carts from Meijer or some other similar establishment. After this occured to me, I turned my mind to a solution. We could just arrest them, but that would actually be putting...

The Year in Review Not to be confused with The Year in Review, which happens in December **Warning - Most readers will probably find this entry very dull. You may turn back now if you wish, but don't say I didn't warn you.** Half-way through the first step of the American Dream, aren't we? I would venture to say that most of us have an idea of what sort of classes await us in the next two years to a pretty high degree of accuracy. Myself, I can definitely identify with the feeling that it's all downhill from here. As much as I dislike coming home to the thought of having to work random hours at Nic's, it pales in comparison to the thought of having to search for a job several hundred miles away and then trying to make it in a place where I know no one . Only two, maybe three more summers at Nic's before I ride off into the sunset; I have to wonder if Joe is going to hire a full-timer in my absence or if Tim will take my place. I probably will take...

I May Be Sexist, But I'm Also Right or This Is Bound To Land Me In The Doghouse This one goes out to all the guys in the world. I feel ya. Every guy will experience this phenomenon at regular yet widely spaced intervals in his life. It's something that's bad enough when he has to experience it from only one source, but when the planets are aligned in just the right pattern, it happens. Every woman you know has her period in the same week. There are few things in the world that suck more than that (such as blown head gaskets, kicks in the nuts, or questions posed by women that we can't answer to name those few). You can't say a word that's right to any of them and when you turn to your male compadres, they tell you to say things that only get you deeper in the hole. Or they don't have a clue what to do. But trust me - they know what you're talking about. They've been there. They know. They sympathize. My solution? SHUT UP. ...

Modernist Poetry or Something I Thought I'd Never Like I like this. "Harvest" You reap what you sow The tears overflow Hurts more than you know And the world mourns your loss You cover your eyes The hope in you dies The sun just won't rise And your heart counts the cost Walk through the trees Kick the dead leaves Stings of the bees Hurt      Hurt           Hurt coldheartcoldaircoldcoldcold frosticecold death And another one bites the dust. ~Author Unknown

Randomnessality or Untitled #1 Sometimes, I wonder why I'm here. Then I remember: somebody has to eat all of the jelly beans. Proof that music is an essential part of anyone's life. I miss my Christmas lights. Both jazz and classical music have made a powerful comeback to this room. Graduate school is looking more and more boring as every day goes on. Either my pop freezes or my ice cream melts. I hate my life. I just poked myself in the eye while trying to scratch my nose. Barring accidents and serious illnesses, I believe I am going to die in my sleep whenever I die. "I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight" is not by Foreigner, contrary to my long-held opinion. Peace is...peaceful. Peace and quiet. Peace.