Things of interest


"Home is not places, it is love." -- "Home Is Not Places" by The Apache Relay

Fairy Poodle

Fairy Poodle

My Thoughts

Sing loudly, passionately, with all your heart, for you've nothing to lose.

Saturday, December 28, 2013

A Merry Christmas Story.....

So, the funniest thing happened the other day. As I was wondering the weary roads of life, I happened to stumble upon a mild case of chicken pox. Now, it had gone through my family, and since I was vaccinated when I was very young, I thought I was safe, but APPARENTLY NOT. I had to miss Christmas Eve mass because of it, which is by far the most special part of the Christmas season for me. But anyway, it was the night before Christmas Eve, and I had finally figured out what I wanted to get my dad. I was still contagious, and I didn't like the idea of going out in the state I was in, but then, it was either go out now or don't go out at all. I chose the former of these, and stayed as far away from everyone as possible.

Well, unfortunately, the store at the nearest mall didn't have what I was looking for. The sales associate told me that the nearest place that could have it was at another mall half an hour's drive away. It was already 8:30 at night. But, being the stubborn lunatic I am, I walked to my car without much thought on the matter, and drove half an hour to the other mall.

Now, when some people get chicken pox, they get open sores. I had one, but it was concealed by my hair. As I mentioned previously, my case was mild, and the pocks that I did get looked like aggravated pimples (in fact, I thought they were pimples caused by my ingestion of nearly half a 3.5 lb bag of Sour Patch Kids the night prior -- don't ask).

Anyway, back to my story. The mall was alive with the bustle of the season. Parents were out shopping, children in tow (why would you bring your kid Christmas shopping? Why?), and I saw several young couples walking hand in hand together (why would you go on a mall date the day before Christmas eve? Why?).
Suddenly, someone near one of the booths in the center of the mall made eye contact with me. "Hello there!" he said with a blatantly assertive voice as he walked towards me. Before I knew it, he was standing a mere six inches from my face. Typical salesman type. I didn't have time to respond before he began talking again, rather quickly. His accent made him somewhat difficult to understand, but what he said went a little something like this: "Hello there, my friend, are you tired of your problem? Do you have thirty dollars, yes or no?"
"No, what-"
"How old are you?"
"I can help you get rid of your problem, you should be able to walk confident and proud!"
He punctuated the last two adjectives by thrusting out his chest and standing up as tall as he could. An overly obvious and rather cheesy way to get one's point across, but hey, whatever works, right?
Anyway, I still didn't know what he meant. I wasn't aware of any problem that he may have been talking about.
Another thing that confused me was that I was walking in a confident manner before. I was having a good day, and even I had noticed that my posture was effortlessly good, which lifted my spirits even more. He must be stereotyping me, I decided.
"I help you get rid of this, all of it, within five days! Only five days!" the salesman continued excitedly. Suddenly, it hit me. He was looking at my pocks. He thought they were acne. He thought I was a gullible teenager with acne problems and self-esteem issues, and was trying to manipulate those traits to his advantage. I was laughing out loud in my head. But I could laugh later, now I had a present to buy, and let me tell you, it wasn't an overpriced bottle of acne cream. But he was still talking.
"Do you have thirty dollars, yes or no?"
"Do you have ten dollars, yes or no?"
"Do you have ten dollars?"
"Wait a minute, I can make it all go away, in five days!"
He turned back to his booth and grabbed a bottle of the acne cream and began rubbing some on a cotton ball. Oh great. He was going to try to put some on my face. The thought of an overly pushy paid-on-commission stranger touching my face was in absolutely no way appealing to me. Being brought up with very strict rules on manners, I was reluctant to break off this encounter by just walking away, but it was looking like there was no other option at this point. He wanted to make a sale.
Still, I did try.
"Um, it's a skin condition-"
"Five days, just wait a minute, five days!"
Nope. Wasn't going to work. At this point, I walked away, throwing a brief "Have a nice day" his way, to which he responded "You too, my friend."
At least he had sense enough to know when he'd lost a customer.

I didn't find what I was looking for that night, unfortunately. But the encounter I had with the salesman has not yet ceased to amuse me. He had been standing six inches from my face, and chances are, he would soon be waking up with a strange case of acne, and will realize within the next few days that the pox have claimed him too, for a time.

So I guess the moral of this story just might be "don't judge by appearance, you moron."
You never know.
That unconfident acne-ridden teenager in the corner?
He could just have an infectious case of chicken pocks.

And yeah, having your shoulders back and head up just screams low self-esteem.


Monday, November 11, 2013

In regards to the ending of the forever alone challenge....

First off, I want to make one thing clear: I am NOT working on my Engineering project right now. I am blogging. And despite the fact that I have google drive up in a separate window, I barely know what I'm talking about (the recent NIF breakthrough with nuclear fusion, for those of you who want to know), and the presentation is due on FRIDAY, here I am, blogging away like the not-ADD, slightly impulsive 19-year-old that I am (there's another thing I forgot to blog about: my birthday).

Anyway, the forever alone challenge ended on November 4th. I have to say, the past year has been fantastic. It was nice to make it away from the dating world a little. It was nice to take some time to develop myself as an individual, as well as focus on studies. But it was also nice to know that I don't need a girlfriend to be happy, despite what the world has been telling me (you know something's wrong with your culture when a woman in your sociology course looks you in the eye during a conversation about whether or not sex is a need and says loudly "YOU NEED IT, <INSERT REAL NAME HERE>!"

Dead serious. Direct quote.

Anyway, back on topic. That's something that's gonna end up going on my BFUO blog (which I haven't touched in months, maybe even over a year).

I would highly reccomend the forever alone challenge to anyone. It's really a great thing, a great time to help you refocus, find out what you want, set your standards, and realize that, dude, you don't need sex or romantic love to be happy. Sure, I missed the romantic part sometimes (and as for sex, I'm a virgin and remaining that way 'till I get married, if that happens), but it wasn't the end of the world. It was actually pretty cool. If anything, I feel like, by abstaining, I'm gonna have a greater appreciation for the little romantic things when I meet someone who's really worth it.
Honestly, for all of you people out there who are looking for love, my advice would be, save as much of yourself as possible for your soulmate/future spouse/whatever you wanna call "The One." Seriously, everyone else will come and go out of your life, and they don't deserve what you have. There's really only one person that deserves that.
Personally, I want to save all my kisses for my wife. That is a really hard thing to ask of myself (as kissing is by far the most ethereally wonderful thing I have experienced), but, hey. It'll make her feel like a helluva special person, right?

Anyway, I'm not really looking for anyone at the moment, and I don't really feel like changing that. I'm pretty much cool with whatever at this point.
My classes are taking up enough of my life as it is.
I mean, take a look:
Differential Equations
Linear Algebra
Sociology: The Family
Introduction to Materials Science
....enough said.

So. I hope to be back on soon. And I know that I have been saying that for the past seven or eight posts, but this time, I really mean it, I swear. Seriously. This will happen.
However, if I follow along the curve I have been following, I'll be seeing you all in March of 2014.

Happy... oh, I don't know... Happy-ing!


Sunday, June 30, 2013

Why Dungeons and Dragons is amazing.

So, I completely melted a gnoll with a ball of acid, froze a dire lion solid, blasted a vampire's spawn with a burning hands spell (a huge cone of flame) while grappling with it, and stopped three robbers from stealing ale by summoning three giant centipedes.
How was your day? I rolled high for mine.

This may sound awesome, but it actually rarely happens. I got lucky this time. I also neglected to mention that said vampire's spawn came after me and bit me twice before I actually managed to blast it with flame. Oh, and that I was cursed and my charisma was much less than normal. But hey.

A few friends (Hi Harpo, hi Chris) and I started a D&D campaign, along with Boo and Banana. I play a paranoid half-elven sorcerer by name of Killian. He is neutral in alignment and spends his spare moments talking to his raven familiar, his only close friend, due to his severe paranoia. He's currently trying to find out what to do with his life, since he ran away from home at a young age. But I think I know what he's going to do now. That's good.

I've been thinking of writing a D&D blog with journal entries from each character. I could only write mine, but I've been thinking, hey, Boo and Banana might really enjoy it. I know I would. I'd have to talk to them about it, hmm.....

Anyway, Happy July 4th (United States Independence Day).


Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Because failing to update has been killing me....

A brief list of things that have happened in my life since last update:

1. I am a cashier at BJ's
2. I am writing a six-song EP.
3. Spring semester is OVER.
4. Summer semester has begun.
6. Social life is happening again.
7. I am testing for second degree black belt.
8. I am no longer at 3pi/2.

I will elaborate on these later. I have really missed blogging since my laptop's screen malfunctioned.
I can't freaking blog without my laptop. I can't freaking arrange music without my laptop.
Bleh. It's starting to grate on me.
Oh well.

See you in a bit (I hope),


Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Hello all my humans

I figured, since I have a blog, I should give a brief hello to my humans.
My sisters and my mother are watching "Hoarders."
There's a crazy person who thinks her clothes talk to her. It's pretty weird.

I've started writing songs again, which is a good thing. Life is a sine wave, and depending on its phase, I may have more or less inspiration. Unfortunately, a lot of my inspiration happens at 3pi/2. Crap, I need to learn to write happy music.
But then, honestly, I've gotta stop being at 3pi/2.
'Cause my life's a BIG -1 right now. I mean, seriously, sometimes it feels like the crest of my wave has a length of pi/2, while the trough has a length of 2pi.
For you non trigonometry-savvy people, I'm depressed. I don't know whether I'm actually psychologically depressed or just have been surrounded by suckiness so long that it's affecting me adversely. A little of both, I think. Pluh.
I mean, there are good things happening. I'm learning more about myself, about life, about relationships and whatever. I'm definitely growing. I've realized that, even if I have nothing else, I still have Jesus. My relationship with Jesus will be the closest thing to a perfect relationship that I will ever have. He's my way to being a better person. In a world where nothing makes sense and it seems that everything's stacked against me, He gives me a fighting chance at escaping many of the chains that have kept my family down for generations.
I may or may not explain these in a later post. I don't know. I don't know whether to share it with the internet world. I don't know what employers will find my blog and be reading over it to decide whether I'm fit to employ or not. I know they'll look at my Facebook (I don't even know if my privacy settings on max will do anything -- yes, I am that paranoid), but then, I don't spill my guts on Facebook like I do here. And even here, I don't really spill my guts. I don't like spilling my guts to ANYONE, which is a problem. I mean, well, we all need close friends to spill our guts to. And the issue is not that I don't have close friends. I do. I love each and every one of them dearly. It's just that I don't like spilling my guts.
I dunno. Guess I'm the generic, stereotypical "suffer in silence" kind of guy.
Anyway, the one thing that I will say is that I do NOT want to end up like many of my family members. Let's just say... we have a bit of an issue with picking the right people to get hitched to, and getting stuck with idiot-heads that screw us over. I've said too much already.

And ya'll wonder why I'm not dating. Hmmm.... Besides the "Forever Alone" challenge, I mean.

So. Really depressing post about depressingness. Yes. I know. I never used to post like this. But I'm a real person. I experience everything. Happiness, sadness, anger, depressedness, suckiness, elation-ness, romantic-ness, joyousness.... My real person and his guts are splattered up against the blogger wall 'neath a picture of a fairy poodle. It's like a diary. 'Cept everyone can read it. And it's in a public place.

Oh, and by the way, to my future employers who read this: you are the BEST BOSS EVER.
Thank you.


Saturday, March 23, 2013

Hooray for Spring Break....

Spring break is happening. 'Cept I've been sick for the past few days. It's only a bad cold, but still, it's a bad cold. As in feeling lightheaded, having trouble breathing, stuffy nose, etc.
Good news is, I'm feeling mostly better. Unfortunately, the week's almost over, and I haven't gotten to use my recording equipment yet. Sigh.
I ended up getting recording equipment for Christmas, and, unfortunately, I haven't gotten to use it yet. However, I want to be able to set aside the time to record the piano part for my song. I've wanted to have this recorded for a long time.
I'm working out kinks in my lyrics, but I should be finished soon. That'll be a good thing. Finally, over a year of work will have paid off. LOL. Gotta love perfectionism.

Anyway. About my life as of late. My sociology teacher has no idea what he's talking about. I'm gonna have to dedicate a blog post to him.

Banana and I sometimes go out to eat, and that happened today. It was really rather nice. We went to "Chipotle," which is amazing. Basically, you tell them what to put on your tortilla, and they put it on your tortilla. You end up with a huge six-inch-long, three-inch-wide burrito (or, if you're like me and put everything on it, a tortilla barely wrapped around a mess of rice, beans, and guacamole), and then you get to put hot sauce on it. And not just any hot sauce. Tabasco hot sauce. I could only finish half of it.
Then we ended up going to Dairy Queen for ice cream, and you'd be surprised at how little there is in the way of ice cream. I mean, Dairy Queen. Come on. I don't know about you guys, but when I hear that name, I'm thinking of the White B**** from Epic Movie (which was terrible) reclining on her throne with a heaping cone of Moose Tracks dripping with sticky chocolate fudge.
I do not see burgers. I do not see fries. However, when I glanced up at the menu, lo and behold, I saw burgers and I saw fries. In terms of dairy, there were sundaes. In terms of regular ice cream, as I was informed by the man with the thick accent behind the counter, they had chocolate, vanilla, and twist.
Anyway, Banana and I got our ice cream, and halfway through eating my cone was when I remembered that my family has an issue with dairy. I was ice-cream drunk. Or at least, that's what Banana called it. This involves feeling drowsy and and saying the most crazy things and laughing at everything.
By crazy things, I mean something along the lines of Banana handing me my ice cream in the car and saying "Here, eat ice cream and talk about [ex-girlfriend's name]."
I was laughing so hard I could barely make it out of my parking space.
Oh, and music from the 2003 Kid's Choice Awards (which is 98% bubble-gum pop) is only really good when you're ice-cream drunk. And that gets weird, especially when you decide to sing along to "Deja Vu" by Jhene, and you sing particularly loudly the part where she says "I think the world was made to bring you to me, I was meant to be your girl."
Oh well. I'm just that epic.
I don't know how many of you got those seven-song CDs in your cereal boxes back in 2003 or so. But for a taste of how sad it is that I was listening to it, here's one of the songs.

I still love the piano, and the musicality is decent. But the subject matter is really rather unimpressive, for a college student at least. But then, these girls were 13-ish at the time.

My mom found "Queen of the Damned" on TV, and we watched that. It had music by Jonathan Davis of Korn. That was good enough for me.

Anyway, I still have work to do. Pluh. So ends my glorious Spring Break. Sick first half, homework second half. I totally meant to hang out with a friend this week, but, between the two of those, I don't think it's going to happen. Pluh. I feel bad.
Oh well.
These sacrifices must be made sometimes.
I really don't wanna be in school anymore sometimes.
I'm just done.

I can't flippin' wait to transfer. Get out, see the world, live an independent life. That'll be a good thing.
I have a lot of reasons that I wanna get out, but let's just say, though I love my family dearly, I gotta exercise my adult-ness. That'll be such fun!

Anyway, I need to go to bed. Singing at church tomorrow, picking songs for the mass the church band is playing at (have I even told you about the church band? -- sigh, I'm not here nearly often enough....), finding unit vectors and unit vectors and unit vectors, and then finishing a physics handout.

Goodnight, all!


Friday, February 8, 2013

I AM FREAKING DRIVING: Why I am happy to be leaving public transportation in the dust.

I neglected to mention that I got my licence several months ago.
I don't know how I neglected to mention it, as it has greatly improved my ability to travel, but I did.
By far the best thing about it is that I don't need to take the bus anymore.
By show of hands, who has taken public transportation? For those who haven't, or those who have and would like to read my thoughts on it, the following is a brief synopsis of the experience:

It starts when you wait by the bus stop. You cross the street, unwisely confident that the batty drivers aren't going to hit you. The bus comes at two, and it's two-ten right now. A few people are sitting on the bench in the small glass-and-plastic shelter, earphones obliterating the outside world. One of them may look up briefly, but will immediately go back to her phone. You don't talk to them anyway -- they look like they'd rather die than talk to you. Minutes pass, and others begin to walk down to the bus stop. The shelter becomes crowded, and many stand around, earbuds in their ears. It's two o'clock, and the weight of your backpack is beginning to hurt your back. A cold wind blows, causing you to shiver. You look down the road and see no sign of the bus. You look at your watch to make sure it actually is two, then decide the bus'll be here in another few minutes. It never comes on the dot.
Five minutes pass. No bus. The others stand there, stoic as statues. Some of them walk around a bit, but never move too much. Some of them take calls on their cell phones. Some see a friend and start talking. Most stay silent. Five more minutes pass. Nothing. You look down the road. No sign of it. Five more minutes. Still nothing.
Finally, you see a large dark-blue vehicle driving down the road. You walk to where you know it stops, with the knowledge that, if you don't get there first, you don't get a seat. You look back down the road, and realize that that's a huge truck, not the bus. The wind grows colder and you shiver, cursing the bus driver for making you stand here. Finally, you see something. You're certain that this is the bus. You take a look to make sure. Yep. The large front window, the screen above it with the bus number and "City Hall" projected in big yellow letters, the bike rack below it... this is the bus alright.
It begins to slow down, then comes to a stop five feet from where you are standing. Great. Now everyone else is in front of you. Fortunately, you manage to squeeze through to the entrance before all the seats are taken. The warmth of the bus's heating system welcomes you as you swipe your bus pass through the machine, then head for the closest seat. The seats come in pairs, so you put your backpack on one and sit on the other. A twenty-year-old woman is sitting in front of you with a cell phone glued to her ear. You can't help but overhear the conversation she's having.
"EXCUSE ME!" the bus driver interjects, "You either need to stop swearing like that or get off the bus!"
You know it has to be bad if the bus driver comments. You're glad he says something, because you're not particularly happy about having to hear this random woman's drama. She continues talking, quieter, using less profanity, but you can still hear it. Fortunately, she gets off at the next stop. Several others get on, and the bus becomes full. Out of common courtesy, you take your bag off of the seat next to you, and a rather large man, about thirty, sits down next to you. "Bus is crowded today," he says to you. You agree with him. Soon, you and he are conversing, and before you know it, he's telling you all of the darkest little details of his personal life. "I first remember my father's best friend molesting me when I was four years old, and I tried to tell him but he just wouldn't believe me, and...."
You want to tell him to shut up, that you really DO NOT want to know these things, but you're not sure how to respond. You finally settle on putting on a serious expression and nodding your head every once in a while.
The bus finally stops at city hall. The man has told you that he lives in a different section of town, so he'll be remaining on this bus. Thank God. You hurriedly say goodbye and vacate the bus. People in worn, tattered jackets walk to and fro, and you try not to make eye-contact with anyone. You plug in your own earphones and put on something, anything, as long as you won't have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, that never works.
"'scuse me."
You turn towards the voice and see an obese woman with disheveled hair and a multitude of tatoos standing next to you. She's wearing brown pajama pants with cupcakes on them, and a spaghetti-strap tank top which looks more like an undergarment than an actual shirt. You can't tell whether there are shoes or slippers on her feet.
"Got a cigarette? Can I bum one off ya?"
You quickly explain that you don't smoke, and attempt to go back to your music.
"Hey, you look just like my cousin," she says. You are uncertain how to reply. You once again, attempt to go back to your music, but she decides that you are her conversation buddy for the day. She learns your name quickly and uses it as frequently as possible. You learn about her medical history, and the group home she lives in, even though you would never ever need or want to know either of these things. You look for a way to escape, but then, someone else overhears your (one sided) conversation and begins talking to her about his own medical history/group home. He becomes her new conversation buddy, and you quickly walk away. You look down the road to see if your next bus is here yet. It comes in fifteen minutes, you realize. Fortunately, this one's usually on time.
In the mean time, you'll just hide away in your little world of Evans Blue or Evanescence or whatever you decide to listen to. Quite by accident, you end up making eye contact with a tall man in a ratty faded blue coat, and he begins walking towards you. "Pardon me, man," he says, a serious expression on his face "do you speak English?" His eyes are intense in a rather dark sort of way.
"Yes..." you answer. You've met him before. What's he going to say this time?
Immediately, he takes your hand and shakes it. "Bless you man, God bless you, I'm a Christian, hey, I'm having an 'mergency. My mother, she's in the hospital, n' I need two dolla to take the bus to see her, I need two dolla, can you help me out? I'm a Christian. Can you help me-"
"You've told me this story three times this week," you answer, fed up with the scamming.
He mumbles "Oh, sorry," and then walks on to the another person nearby.
Over your shoulder you hear him starting again with "Pardon me sir, do you speak English?" but then you see your bus coming. You quickly walk to the stop. This time, you're the first one on. You swipe the bus pass through the machine. It rings an error. You swipe it again, then head to your seat. You sit towards the middle of the bus again. The bus fills up with people relatively quickly. Some strike up a conversation with the bus driver, a friendly Jamaican man in his thirties. Others sit and listen to their music. A dark-skinned man, twenty something, in a short brown overcoat and dirty blue jeans gets on the bus, mumbling to himself incoherently. His brown eyes bear a deep blackness with a piercing gleam of cold white shining from the very depths of it. It's like the sparkle of jollity you've seen in the eyes of some you know, but not nearly as benign. It scares you, and you avoid making any form of eye contact with him. He sits down across from you, still muttering incoherently to himself. You seem him reach deep into the pocket of his overcoat and pull out a small bottle of some kind of hard liquor -- whiskey it looks like. He puts it back and then continues to mutter, and an occasional profanity is heard. The bus starts the slow journey home. Traffic is always awful near the city hall area, and it's a matter of luck if the bus isn't stopped by every single traffic light on the way. Luck is on your side today, however, and the bus travels through the city at a much faster pace than usual. Soon enough, the scary-eyed man gets off. A few people comment about the annoyance of his muttering, and you wonder if they're blind. Something's obviously wrong with him. Oh well.
Soon enough, three high school girls get on, dressed finely in whatever the latest trending brands are. They talk to each other in their high, valley-girl-esque voices and text on their phones. Another man gets on and sits across from you, where scary-eyes had been sitting. His eyes are also rather off-putting, so you avoid talking to him. He tries to strike up a conversation with you, but you put on a generally unfriendly demeanor and he leaves you alone. The valley girls, on the other hand, do not, and thus, he starts talking to them.
"Hey, you know, you look just like my cousin."
You remember the girl who talked to you earlier, and realize that line as the starter of conversation is a sure sign of boundary issues.
One of the valley girls looks at him, an awkward smile on her face. "....Okay?"
"Yeah, you look just like her. It's really weird. Hey, I bet you never can guess how old I am. I look, what, thirty, right?"
"Um... yeah, I guess...."
"Well, I'm twenty one. Most people say I am as mature as a thirty-year-old, though."
You want to laugh out loud at that.
"On top of that, I have six associates degree's," he continues, "which also makes it seem like I'm thirty."
He then proceeds to tell the unfortunate valley girl about all six of his associate's degrees, what he likes and dislikes about them, and why he never went on to get any bachelor's degrees. All the while, the valley girl tries a number of times in vain to escape the conversation, and then finally looks at you. She smiles awkwardly at you makes a gesture at him, nonverbally saying "what's up with this guy?" You shrug, smiling awkwardly back. Finally, it's your stop. You pull the wire that signals the bus driver to stop. You stand up as the bus comes to a stop, attempting to keep your footing against the momentum. You say "Bye," to the valley girl, who replies to you in an overly loud voice, cutting the man off in an attempt to end the conversation. Not surprisingly, it fails, and he keeps talking. Oh well, better her than you. You say goodbye to the bus driver, and then walk off the bus, glad that this hellish trip is finally over.

Well, that's basically what it is. Some of these come directly from actual experience, some are paraphrased, all are cut and pasted onto one day. I'm sure you understand now why I hate the bus.

Anyway, I'm about to watch "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" with my dad.

I'll talk to you guys later,


Friday, February 1, 2013

Happy Spring semester!

It's here. Spring semester.
The time of laziness is over.
I am currently posting when I should be doing physics or calculus homework, but whatever. I'll get it done later. I'm good like that.
So far, my classes are going okay-ish.

Let's start with Calculus. My teacher is extremely well-organized in terms of lesson planning. I have a few friends in that class, which makes me happy. We do math and stuff. Enough said.

Physics II. It is in starting this class that I come fully understand how truly TERRIBLE my physics I teacher was. I'm definitely struggling -- more than I have in any class so far -- but I think I'll manage. My teacher is amazing, a woman in her thirties, though she looks about twenty-three. She tends to joke around with the class a lot, explains everything in graphic detail, and has more than once complimented me on my sense of style. I know what some of you are thinking, particularly those who know me. T-WAC? A sense of style? Isn't this the guy who throws a random t-shirt and a pair of jeans on before he leaves the house?
Well, I still do the same thing. Only difference is, Hot Topic decided to have a sale, and, since I had only two pairs of jeans that actually fit, I thought I would buy some. So now I go about school sporting jeans of maroon, blood-red, olive-green, or purple. Or just regular blue, depending on the day. And my physics teacher noticed. And she has complimented me on it.

On to Sociology. My classmates are mildly interesting. My teacher teaches at a snails pace and goes off on lots and lots of random tangents. But I have learned a very important lesson so far, one that he has made clear, though his point has not been explicitly stated. It goes a little something like this:
Now, quite frankly, gun violence is a social problem. And I really don't mind if my teacher is fully in favor of GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL, but it irks me that he's spending time going off about gun violence, rather than chapter one of the textbook. So, a word of advice: if you're going to teach a sociology course, please focus on said sociology course, no matter how important you consider GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL GUN CONTROL to be. Besides, all violence is abberant, not just gun violence. Personally, I think knives are scarier, but that's another topic. Back to my school topic.

Human sexuality. By far my most interesting course, both in subject matter and in class participants. My teacher is a piece of work. Extremely overly serious when he teaches, yet occasionally cracks a crude joke or says something ridiculous that makes everyone laugh. He's the strangest teacher I've ever had. I also have the most interesting-looking cast of classmates this semester. They seem to be weirdos from every corner of my school. All the strangest, oddest ones, put together in one class. It's pretty funny. It's my entertainment class, for sure.

So, that's my schedule. Aside from that, I've become the president of the music club. Stuff wasn't happening at meetings, and I was getting tired of it, so I decided, hey, what the heck, and I started getting the ball rolling. I can't say it's not a stressful position at times, but I'm glad I was nominated for the position. Only issue is that some of the people there are really hard to work with. Oh well. More practice for the real world.

The forever alone challenge has been going exceptionally well. Singleness is a highly underrated state of being. I am very much enjoying the stability of it. Unfortunately, every time I start enjoying stability, something comes in and knocks me on my rear end. So I guess I'll just keep vigilant, watching for something romantic or otherwise to enter my life.... Quite frankly, I do not find the idea of being in a relationship appealing at all. But hey, testosterone can be very good at persuasion.....

Finally, I'll post a random song for you guys to enjoy. Or not, depending on whether you listen to my random songs.

Even though it's really long, I'd suggest plugging earphones in and turning up the volume. It's one of those songs you can just lose yourself in.
These guys are coming out with their new album on February 22nd. Guess who's buying it?
Definitely one of the most amazing bands I've heard in a while.

In the words of, I think it was the terminator, "I'LL BE BACK!"

Have a happy weekend,



Do Not Eat the Fairy Poodle!

Do Not Eat the Fairy Poodle!