I Could Almost Write A Song (OR: A Movie Tavern Christmas)

I'm smiling.

Like, a real big smile, a natural, permagrin sort of smile. I think I wear it well, even if it struck with no one around to see it. It suits my fancy as I've managed to get back to really happy, in December no less.

I did miss A Charlie Brown Christmas, admittedly. However, I caught the best parts of How the Grinch Stole Christmas - the classic, animated version (all apologies to Jim Carrey, but his was just not as...jingly), which always makes my holiday.

But after spending most of my waking hours at work or with co-workers voluntarily, I'm actually enjoying myself.

Makes me almost not miss college. Almost.

Someone Call Relient K (OR: 4CHAN FTW)

I have been in one hell of a state recently. Really, two...bipolar, maybe?

I blame 4Chan (yes, I'm an occasional /b/tard) for making me incredibly slap happy on Wednesday and highly grumpy today. Yesterday?

What else but lazy?

Not Re-Finishing A Paper (OR: NARWHALS!)

So here I am, in Not Natural Science in not room 332 in Not Union Hall. I am very busy not doing a paper that I did not turn in over the weekend, when I was busy not cleaning the house. I'm probably...not, scratch that. I am an internet addict. Also, the guy across me here in the computer lab looks like some strange cross of Derek Zoolander and the monkey dude Chris Kattan never should have played on SNL. And the girl next to me sounds like Jillian from B-Dubs, whom I have not seen or heard form in a while. Triste.

Anyway, things are a little less sucky here, or at least I'm a little less crappy feeling. Hanna is at the house, probably sleeping and doing not homework (sorry). I will see her for all of a few minutes, after I get done not doing well on my oral exam for Spanish (look, it's just an awkward phrase, I stopped giggling at it a while ago. Grow up.). It's right back at work tonight for me - time to sully up my new kitchen coat, which I was oddly excited about getting. Don't ask me why, but I've been trying it on a few times since I got it Monday. I suppose that unlike a lot of people (guys especially), I actually enjoy dressing a part? Who knows. All I know is that it's spiffy and white and will soon be not spiffy and a pretty deep shade of Movie Tavern White. Heh.

I still don't think I blog enough. I don't even write a lot of real good stuff anyway. To be honest, I ramble and ramble and half of it is about how bad I blog...I'm blogging about blogging. That's gotta fall somewhere close to dividing by zero in cosmic conundrums. Oy. I will admit, I was pretty proud of getting on the front page of Drivl a few months back with that zoo thing, but I'm not there. I have been thinking of stuff for a redux of the list. After all, if I'm shameless enough to copy everyone else, why wouldn't I copy myself?

I need to figure out what computer I want. I'm thinking a white MacBook - a gig of memory and 120 megs o' hard drive, or maybe a similar PC for less. I can get down to $999 plus shipping with a student discount from Western, maybe Columbus State. The one I want is $1,199 - easily attainable by the end of winter if I cut out impulsive iTunes purchases. Damn you apple and your alluring purchase prices.

Random subtitle FTW.

Wallowing (OR: I'll Post Again, 'Cause I Can)

So I'm skipping English for the third time in two weeks, because there really isn't much of a point in me going. I can e-mail the assignment if I have the time. I just finished a pleading, albeit slightly snarky e-mail to my professor, in the thin hope I can get it in tomorrow morning.

I've got nearly an hour to kill before my 2:30, and I've had more time to kill today than I have classes - thus is Friday at Columbus State.

To be honest, I'e never had the particular feeling that an institution is below me. No, I went to schools with resources and faculty that enabled me to be challenged. There were easy classes at Darby, certainly - my Speech teacher, the ace Mr. Torrence, even dubbed me the King of BS - but there was enough meat that I could at least find some improvment.

No, here at Columbus State, we briefly touch on alchemy in Natural Science. Alchemy, for Christ sake. The curriculum, drawed up in earnest by CSCC themselves, is laughable, never touching on any subject long enough to make it matter to us. We went through the entire Biology chapter today, and all I can tell you from the textbook is that putting sweaty undergarments in a flask with wheat husks will not produce the spontaneus generation of rats. Seriously. This was apparently critical information. And I expect this shit to transfer?

I'm waiting, waiting, waiting. I miss last week, even, when I had something to look forward to, something to be excited about. Sure, it literally broke down an hour in, but I had something to motivate my being awake, really awake in the morning. Yeah, Hanna's supposed to come up next week, and I'll be delighted. But beyond that, what's there going to be? Christmas? Sure, but it really isn't what it used to be 'round the Lockman house, not with car repairs and insurance and whatnot. No, I fully expected less Christmas, even before any of these extras came along. I'm nineteen, I have no need to look to my parents for these things anymore. Not when I'm actually working full-time.

No, I'm just making it through a day, a week, maybe even a month at a time. I'm not even bothering to look ahead, because there's nothing even close on the horizon, not that I can see. Sure, the Playboy caravan might break down on Crestbury a little after New Year's, but I see no bus. No, minus any delightful surprises some higher power might have planned, it's more the same, I fear.

This isn't complaining, really. I've idled before and I'll idle again. It's a natural part of life, especially when nineteen and all that. This summer was pretty much the pits, and I found my way out of that, right?

Cold War Kids are playing Newport in a few weeks, that's gonna be pretty awesome. It's a great way to send out finals week. Without class, I can actually travel, or at least get out on the ton a little. Maybe this December won't suck. Maybe it'll be the worst yet.

Oh to be young, bored and vague.

EDIT: Jesus, I'm looking at my archives and realizing how pathetic my stats are. I'm averaging probably half a dozen posts a month. WTF?

United States v. Barry Lamar Bonds (OR: I Suppose One of My Occasional Sports-Themed Rants is in Order)

For those of you who are not interested in sports, baseball, and/or the US legal system, this is your chance to turn away. Also, this could easily turn into a pile of lousy, runny, ranty, gibberish-laden stool. So there's that warning.

On to business.

Few, if any, athletes today are as divisive as Barry Bonds. He's not merely an athlete in major legal trouble - no, for that, you can have Pacman Jones, Tank Johnson, or really, the majority of the Bengals roster. No, Bonds stands out for two major reasons: one, he is quite possibly, with all current issues aside, and looking from pure stats and awards and such, the greatest player to ever play. Two, he is one of, perhaps the central player in the latest and greatest epidemic to affect baseball and sports as a whole (I'm diggin' the add-on adjectives today!). Steroids have seeped into just about every sport at most known levels - yes, don't you shy away football fans, remember the incident involving the Carolina Panthers? No? No one does, but it happened. Replace offensive linemen with a few name running backs, and you've got Goodell in a pickle.

Anyway, back on topic: Bonds has now been named in an epic, sweeping, braznely broad and vague indictment, one that could theoretically land him in prison for up to 30 years - about the same time that this drama has been playing out, it feels. It's not been nearly as simple as the Marion Jones saga, which took far less time to play out, with a much broader scope of evidence to take in. Floyd Landis fell from grace in a measely three days, though the courts worked that one out only a few months ago (that's a bit of a sore subject for yours' truly, but that's a rant since passed. Sigh). No, Bonds' issues lay in a sport that didn't even ban, let alone test for steroids until just a few years ago. Even the IOC, the UN of sporting authorites, detailed their steroids policies back before I was eating paste. Instead, Bud Selig, a spineless jellyfish of a commish, waited until Congress - CONGRESS! - was on his ass, and he put flop sweat to paper in the most pathetic steroid policy any non-East-German sport body has ever produced. By the time anything was written, Bonds had done his thang, and began his ascent to the home-run list with new drugs.

Still, his supplier, BALCO was raided and cut down, unleashing a domino effect then unseen. This tiny little place - I like to think of BALCO as something like the lacrosse shop in those sprawling Sawmill strip malls, surrounded by countless empty storefronts, with more international reach and more horse testosterone - became the downfall of numerous star athletes, and probably more to come (Victor Conte has supposedly named 27 athletes). Victor Conte fell, then went Bonds' trainer, Greg Anderson. As ESPN so objectively pointed out in their three-hour long stretch of ten minutes of news last night, Bonds' new muscle showed up the spring after Bonds began training with Anderson. Bonds testify, got grilled, and ever since, the Justice Department has doggedly pursued Bonds, finally securing what they feel is suitable evidence to nail Bonds on perjury, as they can't really try him on douchebaggery. (On a side note, the statement Bonds' attorney issued yesterday is a pretty amusing read - he verbally attacked the Justice Department on the waterboarding issue - that's just a small, angry man being a small angry man, I suppose.)

Where does this put Bonds? Next year he's not going to play, I can pretty much guarantee that. He's an untouchable free agent. He's been shunted from San Fransisco; men who rape dogs don't necessarily feel out of place in San Fransisco. He may not play again, depending on how this process plays out (which will take approximately 34 years). And inevitably, the hall-of-fame debate comes up.

Opinion time! Simply put, Barry Bonds does not belong in the Hall of Fame. I can only think of two possible precedents set forth for Barry Bonds, both of which are theoretically still playing out. The more direct example is Mark McGwire's ongoing storming of the hall doors. His mere testimony in front of the House (a flop of Seligian proportions) seems suitable enough to keep him out, though I think people forget he didn't exactly piece together a Cooperstown career. If I could vote for a player from one year, 1998 McGwire would be unanimous, or at least close. But overall, he never really did a lot more than bash home runs, and even those didn't do that much good after 1990.

No, a better comparison is Pete Rose. Rose is an undeniable Hall-of-Fame player. All-tiem hits leader, World Series winner, one of the best players of his era, and of all-time. And yet, he now has no chance of getting in. There are numerous sins ballplayers can commit, but most of them are forgivable, especially in a city like Cincinnati where a beloved Red is more popular than any strip-club-banishing evangelist could ever hope to be. Why? He bet on the game. While not as murky and far-reaching as Bonds, his actions are part of a scandal that can immediately rock any game to its core - look at what Tim Donaghy is about to do to the NBA. It's not just a crime, not just a wrong, it's affecting the very way the game is played, and that is a cardinal sin. Unforgivable. The Hall of Fame rewards players who have propelled the game to new heights. And if Bonds is found guilty, essentially proving that he did use steroids, then that touches on the game itself, and there is absolutely no return from that.

My inner 10-year-old is weeping, Mister Bonds. What have you done?

The Seventy Three (OR: When It's Gone Away)

Well that was quick.

So about one hour, 75 miles, and twenty-some-odd songs in, my fuel pump decided to stop working. As in, my accelerator pumped, but it wuddint pumpin' nothin'. I coasted on up to the top of the exit ramp, flipped on the blinking lights, and proceeded to march on into despair.

There are only a surprisingly few moments in life when you feel more isolated than you do when sitting in your broken-down car in the middle of nowhere, waiting for a tow truck that feels like it'll never show.

After two hours of waiting on SR 73, and an hour-long ride in a tow truck up 71, I'm home. I'm not happy about it, but I'm home.

Bowling Green, I'll be home soon enough. Just a little later than any of us wanted.

The Sixty Five (OR: You Know November Has Come)

Only one test seperates me from the trip now, and I cannot state how excited I am. Though, honestly, I'm a bit subdued at the moment after a little less sleep than I'd have cared for. I'm also disgruntled that Firefox on the CSCC Comp. Lab doesn't include spellcheck - no, I shouldn't be so reliant upon it, but it's nice to catch those screw-ups, no?

Anyway, I'm merely two hours, one test and one skipped (well, to-be-skipped) class, off, and I'll hop on I-71. Y'know, we don't get the cool insterstate names here in the Midwest. In California, there's the I-5, that runs up the coast from San Diego on. The I-5. It sounds so cool, so breezy...two-seventy? That's just a bulky sense of blah (don't even get me started on Cincinnati...the 471?!)

So yeah, I'm gonna get off track a lot here.

My basic itinerary includes a stop in Louisville tonight and Monday, a party, a Homecoming game, and some good old fashioned spontaneity. I still don't know for sure where I'm sleeping Sunday night, and that's fine by me.

I'll update, possibly as we go along, most likely after the fact, when my bank account has been throttled and my wicked liver has been sedated with adult beverages (as the Movie Tavern menus are so fond of saying). It's gonna be a pretty neat-o weekend. I haven't been this giddy since Disneyland.

A Random Thought Kinda Day (OR: My brain is slower than a beached whale)

Every once in a while, I become tremendously addicted to a song, usually a sugary pop song that perhaps I should or should not like. This time around, it's "Pull Shapes" by The Pipettes. I've been singing it in the car all day. If I had the windows down, it'd be embarassing.

I saw one of the most beautiful things I can ever remember seeing. We had a really beautiful sunrise (see, I normally observe sunsets...such are my days of late) whilst I was driving to school. Columbus gets so-so sunrises and sunsets, at least in comparison with Bowling Green. But this one was amazing...the clouds were scattered just perfectly across the sky. Downtown was still lit up from the overnight, but offices were already lit up. The contrast of the bold, intimidating skyline and the glorious sky was just...beyond words. Marvelous, to say the least.

My brain has been noticeably slower than my body today. This may just be a lack of sleep coming back to haunt me.

I ran into a friend from high school today, Nadia. We didn't talk with each other so much, we happened to end up going to the Coldplay concert in Cleveland over Spring Break. That's about it. But Jenn and I had time, and we all sat down for a chat. She's far more interesting and articulate than I remember. She's a beautiful girl, her mother from Mexico, her father from Palestine. She's been around the world, to places yet untouched by our culture. Not backwards, but less...American. There's really no way for me to put it, not knowing how it feels there. I have a bad habit of trying to form the conversation, but I felt compelled to just stay quiet and listen, and I walked to Spanish with a lot more filling my mind than translations of colors and large numbers.

Yet another long weekend of working ahead, though I might actually sleep all three nights. Sleep is Job One tomorrow, and I think it can be arranged.

When you're Schreck's bitch...

According to my timeslip, I clocked out at 1:47 am. I shall most likely clock in again around 7:45 am or so.

Me > Sleep

Insert Title Here (OR: I've come to the realization that sometimes, my life is better in sporadic thoughts.)

This Ashley character is becoming the new Maddie. And Maddie is becoming...hell, I have no idea.

As I listen to the fuzzy sounds of "Faust" by Gorillaz, I find...DADGUMMIT SONOFABITCH THAT PART ALWAYS GETS ME. Now I feel like I should be tripping on something.

I had random bits of songs stuck in my head all day. The chorus from "The Drowning" by The Decemberists ("Go to sleep now, little ugly...) happened to pop up whilst I catnapped in Nestor Hall. Yeah, a part of a part of a song. Then I started singing "Kodachrome" on my way to Spanish. And washing dishes made me sing..."American Pie"? Welcome to the strange musical mind of Ray.

Work sucks. The people don't. I may be a worthless peon, but at least we're all peons united. Peons United...sounds like a lousy Scottish football club, doesn't it? I swear to god I just thought of that off the top of my head.

My computer will soon be replaced. I think it's catching wind of my intents, and is plotting against me. I maintain that I am in fact mentally stable.

Another example of the sometimes mundane existence of kitchen life: one of the best parts of tonight (aside from scoring the last 3:10 To Yuma poster in the joint) was finding a pair of dressing-holder dealies - the name eludes me. Anyway, I got to put my barbecue sauce and honey mustard in them at grill station, and it was deemed good.

Jake in Natural Science is now one of my favorite people. He's one of those unabashedly, knowingly stupid teenage guys, and I'm rooting for him on his quest to get with Red Headed Girl. We speak in codes and nicknames. It makes an otherwise lousy class an altogether attendance-worthy affair. That and our extra long breaks.

In that spirit, I felt the urge to be just a smidge immature after I got home:

KRSUTT18: why is ur name stoogeontheloose?
StoogeontheLoose: just kind of chose it one day
KRSUTT18: gotcha
StoogeontheLoose: it had assonance
StoogeontheLoose: hehe, i said ass

Me thinks it stems from Darby's 69-0 win.

So my life is crazy good. Mostly crazy. I actually fell asleep in public. That just don't happen. Though, giving credit where credit is due, those Nestor Hall couches are just so darned comfy.

I bought "Breakfast Machine" on iTunes. You know...the Pee Wee Herman song. Yeah. The one that drives everyone nuts.

My vision is deciding to stop focusing a few times. This is not so much an optical problem as one of (lack of) rest. But, mom, I'm only 20 minutes into The Crane Wife!

And so it continues...

¡Viva La Weekend! (OR: You Are Coming To A Sad Realization)

If you've noticed a trend of me not really posting at all lately, it's because I'm not on this computer long enough to blog.

Anyway, it's almost 1:30 in the morning.

I got home an hour or so ago after closing the kitchen for the third day in a row. I spent, all in all, over a day in that kitchen over three days.

I have class in less than seven hours. This means being awake at 6:30 to get stuff done, like eating. And beating traffic.

Naturally, I should be asleep. Instead, I'm on the computer, blogging, and listening to The Prodigy on my new ghetto blaster headphones. They're amazing.

I'm relatively sure that this is borderline insomnia. And yet here I am.

Alas.

Something Short of Sanctuary (OR: Free Yo Mind)

Another Friday, another dead afternoon at Columbus State. The air flirted with ninety degrees - again. For some reason, autumn has been ignoring us - tragic.

Still, my rather sad excuse for an English class let out early, again, and this gave me another hour to kill. The downside of my eight-hour block of class three days is all that free time. I really have no idea what to do with all of it. I've already found my favorite spots. I have a particular bench I sit on when I need to do any writing. It's a long, high-backed bench that runs in front of Columbus Hall - sure, it's concrete, but it does the trick.

Anyway, I wasn't feeling all that pensive, and I wasn't particularly hungry. So what am I to do with an hour to spare and ADHD running rampant? Settle my mind the hell down.

There's a little spot of grass - well there was grass there before. At this point, it's covered in tiny leaves and dirt. Shitloads of the stuff. And most afternoons, it's littered with students like me, just sitting around, wasting (biding?) time. But today, it was me, a kid fiddling with his iPod, and a girl on a cell phone. Positioning myself as far away from our second friend, I laid down - granted, my bookbag isn't quite comfortable, but I wasn't aiming for comfort. I managed to do something I didn't even realize I needed to do:

I shut down the clutter. I watched the leaves fall and float to the ground, and just lost myself in the foliage shade. It was beautiful.

A chill spot in the heart of Columbus State. Who'd have thought?

I swear, I'll work on this entry eventually, because I have some cool stuff to say. But basically, I saw my former favorite work buddy, got paid to fool around for 45 minutes, saw penguins poop twice, closed up the kitchen twice, watched the Browns and Buckeyes win, pinch hit for SA's and served the food I cooked, got outgunned by an old woman on Riverside drive, and thoroughly enjoyed pretty much every second of what has been a marvelous weekend.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to finish my homework, and get to bed. I've gotta be up at 6:30, people.

O, Fortune! (OR: OMG CONFIDENCE where have you been)

It'd been so long, I'd forgotten the feeling of being on top of the world. Things have at long last been falling into place a little. I'm far from where I wanted to be right now, but considering where I was, this works quite nicely.

To be honest, I'm adept at finding ways to make myself feel happy, to accept what I have as good, as perfectly fine. But to be honest, I couldn't really say that this summer. And I really had a hard time accepting it. I have this desire to be happy with whatever it is I'm doing, and there really was no way that I could do that. I was stuck in a dead end job that I really couldn't stand, a student without a school, and with no money. Some of my best friends were hundreds of miles away, and I realized I might not see most of them for months.

Dude. I knew it, but I denied it. I ignored it. I pretended it wasn't. But flat out, life sucked. Four months of the worst summer of my life. Not to be melodramatic or anything.

And to be honest, life isn't exactly ideal, anyway. I still have to pay off my books, and I'm probably facing a full year at CSCC instead of the quarter I was hoping for. I'm trying to claw my way back to Western, and there's more distance left than I thought. Though I have solidified my choice of a minor.

Still, I've actually managed to enjoy life at CSCC, even if it is just a glamorous version of the "single-serving friends" theory (I'm working on a separate entry for that, in fact, so stay tuned). I've got the glorious return coming in "a mere" month and a half. And I've totally got a hot date at the zoo with Maddie tomorrow. Heh.

So, here's to good times, and the hard stuff we had to fend off getting there. Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well.

O, Bewilderment! (OR: Pondering the Perplexing Maze of Love)

"He'll change, I know it."

The words of yet another soon-to-be disappointed woman.

Why in bloody hell do people get back with the source of their misery? If it doesn't work for the third, or the fourth, or the tenth time, it's not meant to be. I'm one who doesn't like change, and I know to move on in those situations.

Alas, things are never, ever so simple.

O, Despair (OR: Girls is confusing)

CSCC girl is confusing. Ex-girlfriends are both confusing. Other girls confusing themselves are confusing me.

But most of all my mother. And that is what worries me more than any other.

If I can't even understand almost anything my mother does, what chance do I have with the female population in general?

El Kitchen Krew (OR: Life at this exact moment)

It's 2:30 on a Saturday night...Sunday morning...you get the point. I should probably be asleep; considering my sleep schedule takes a major shift starting Wednesday, it'd be for the best. Alas, I am...not wide awake, but certainly not wilting. I'm rather content here; on the end of my bed, in a hoodie (damn, hoodie weather has come rather abruptly, no?) and...boxer briefs..pounding away on the keyboard once more, whilst watching new wallet teeter on the edge of the mattress...this moves me to look through it again, admiring the fact that I had a little bit of balls filling out the form, and listed myself at six feet tall. It's bullshit, but I give myself the little things like that sometimes.

Anyway, this is not supposed to be blogging in real time, this is supposed to be me talking about what the hell is going on with me. And the moment, really...like my wallet in a way, I am teetering. (Yeah...so it was a stretch. Give me credit for an attempted segue?)

Columbus State starts class on Wednesday (also International Talk Like A Pirate Day, as Matt and I have dutifully noted). I suppose I'm probably putting more stock into this as a major change than I ought to. It's not gonna be college, not the way I've been used to it; really, it's just a new routine to adapt to. Three days a week, drive to CSCC, go to class, eat, class, drive home. Work on weekends - I've become a regular kitchen closer. I also realized I could probably actually run that kitchen now, unlike the previously described evening where I pretty much ran around like a lineman on a busted pass play (for the non-sporting types out there, like a person who has no fucking clue what's going on). I've also gained a) the ability to bark out orders to other staff and be heard, and 2) a nasty cut from the FREAKING PAPER PROTECTOR ON A JAR OF HONEY MUSTARD, which, if you've never had the pleasure, stings like a son of a bitch.

And yeah, my ADHD is definitely kicking in. But it's readable, is it not?

(refreshing restroom break, cue Thom Yorke)

Now, where was I? Ah, Columbus State. I'm basically taking all the Freshman courses I didn't take as a Freshman...that's gonna be a fun explanation to everyone I meet. From experience, when describing your status, if it's not a specific year, then you have 25 words or less to explain it. Something like "taking my freshman gen. ed. stuff" should do the trick.

I've truly become happier with who I am since I took this new job. It's more complicated than BW3's and yet...it's hard to describe why it works so well. It pays scant more than Bee Dubs did, there's usually a lot more chaos, and the rush is killer...yet I feel far more content. I think there's a shared respect among all of us, that mutual "we have no idea what we're doing, but we're trying" vibe. That, and the fact I actually have some relative seniority.

I just happened to look at my guitar and think what a pity it is that I can't quite get down how to play it. Seriously.

The Joys of Working (OR: My Rough Equivalent of Slavery)

I think I need to check with someone at Movie Tavern's corporate HQ. Here's a rundown of my first paycheck (coming a month after I was hired, nonetheless):

Total hours worked: 31.38
Rate of Pay: $0.00

Total:

I don't believe that meets current Federal minimum wage laws. I could be wrong, though.

Somehow, both my high school and my college are the center of quite a bit of attention. This is weird.

Hilliard Darby High was the school victimized by the now-infamous "We Suck" prank. My friend, Matt, held up one of those pieces of cardboard that was supposed to spell out "Go Darby", but instead landed us across headlines around the country.

The video:
.
Right at the :20 left mark, that's the money shot. That is probably going to be Hilliard Darby's legacy, I'm afraid. Not that we're not laughing our asses off, too.

Meanwhile, Western Kentucky is starting it's slow trudge toward mediocrity...er...ascent into I-A football, gloriously being pummeled by Florida for a cool $750,000 on Saturday. The awkward spot put them on the front page of ESPN.com, in a column by Pat Forde.

Weird times, my friend. Weird.

Life on the Kitchen Scene (OR: I was bossman!)

Approximately two weeks ago, I was hired at Movie Tavern as a cook. Full time. I've officially found my first job that gives me a living. Now, that doesn't include all those spiffy financial packages or insurance plans or whatnot, and it means staying to wash dishes until two in the morning, but nonetheless, I have a full-fledged adult job. Progress.

That said, I'm sore as hell. Run on your feet for nine hours a day for a few days and get back to me as a result. It's been a good year since I had regular physical activity (the occasional racquetball session aside), and I've picked a bug of some kind or something, or am not sleeping, or something. Maybe the handy-dandy WebMD body parts dude can rescue me.

Anyway, despite my soreness, I feel like I've done purty well for myself so far. I'm getting some rave reviews from my higher-ups, and that bodes well. I'm a good little worker drone.

Hell, I managed to run a kitchen tonight. It wasn't smooth, and in the beginning, it was slow as hell, but I pulled in a manager and got out act together. I ran two stations (sure, easy stations, but let me bask!) and got grill whipped into shape. It wasn't exactly the Ray Lockman show, but considering that I've not been there but for two weeks, I managed to produce the necessary food.

And of course when does our scheduled lead waltz back into the kitchen from his "emergency?"

7:45. Anyone who's worked a restaurant could join me in kicking some ass. Food service style.

Beeeeezy (OR: I've got to admit...)

Finally. The upswing. It's been slow in coming, but I think the time is finally here. I've gained a little forward momentum in my life and stuff is starting to shape up.

For those of you not keeping tabs on everything I do (which is to say, those of you who have a life), a brief explanation of stuff since the speeding ticket blog.

As far as I can tell, I'm gonna stay on the insurance, much to my relief. Admittedly, I was panicking just a tad, but my concern was over the consequences of losing it as opposed to the actual dropping itself. Still, I'm driving, albeit for a few hundred bucks more.

Currently, I'm working two jobs, though I'm still a cook in both. I'd forgotten about the applications I put it while on the winding journey to employment, and had no pressing need for reminder. But Monday, whilst on the can...alright, there is such a thing as overpersonal blogging...I get a call from Movie Tavern. Can I come in for an interview?

Why not? At worst, I find out it's shittier than what I have, and I politely decline. Turns out, they need tons of help, and I was actually given a little extra in order to leave BDub's. As small as it sounds, it feels kind of cool to feel like you're needed that much.

I've since worked a full three days, and I'm quickly growing fond of my job. Not to say I'm gonna miss BW3's. Au contrare! Saturday morning...who'd a thought Saturday morning? ...made me miss it before I'd even left. We got the ga-hetoo musik blastin' and had ourselves a bitchin' good time. On the clock.

I finally did what I'd been talking about doing since summer began: I actually got to seeing people from Western. People here mostly meaning one Miss Hanna Goetz, but also included in the Big 71 Tour were Rachel, Adam, Christie and Erica. As always, good times and funanigans (that's a portmanteau of fun and shenanigans for our slower readers) were had. It certainly help speed up the process of getting the damned summer over with.

All in all, I'd say the summer of 2007 has been a bit of a bummer. No one I know's really had much of a good time, what with the introduction of serious responsibility. But can we not have, like, a week or two of unbridled joy and delight?

Like a Cubs fan in September: Wait till next year.

Greatest Wakeup Ever

I stepped out of bed right as my alarm went off from the morning before.

And what song came through those speakers as I started my day? "Junior Kickstart" by the Go! Team.

Every badass needs his theme song.

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Now playing: Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)
via FoxyTunes

My Biggest Screwup (OR: What now?)

These words are coming from a young man who's scared, who's dreading whatever it is that is about to come down. I could've seen this coming and yet I chose to go on. I've scared the hell out of myself and I know it's only going to get worse.

Basically: I got pulled over by a cop in Madison County. This isn't horrible. Bad, inconvenient, yes. And why was I in Madison County? I know about as well as you do. Did I mention that my license isn't in my wallet? He was able to look up my information, thank god. But that really, really won't help matters.

At one point, he asked to search the car. Few people have ever seen me when my nerves are completely frayed. I'm skittish, I stammer, I'm a like Michael J. Fox on a caffeine drip. And naturally, he's bound to wonder why I'm so skittish over a traffic ticket.
Simply, you have to realize this, and that's where things go sour: I already have a citation on my record, the accident I had back in November of my senior year. Combined with this, that without a doubt means that I'm off the family auto insurance.

This means I can't drive.

This will mean plenty: what, I don't know. I'm begging and pleading that I can still go to King's Island next week. Past that, my social is about to die. I'm nervous, beyond that...I've just screwed up an already fragile future for myself, and all for a nice little "relaxing trip."

I should have gone to Erin's.

What exactly will happen, I don't know. I'm waiting to break the news. But I know that it will be miserable, it will be painful, it may absolutely break me.

In other words, the shit is about to hit the fan.

Kersplat.

[So, it's right after midnight and the news was broken a few hours ago. It wasn't horrible, at least not as bad as I was anticipating. I was expecting some decibel increasage, and whatnot, but none. It was more the generally depressing form of total disappointment. More my dad's style, really. The yelling on this one will come.

As for me, I was practically banging my head in Potter Puppet Pal fashion, muttering "angst! Angst!" the entire evening. Not a fun sight.]

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Now playing: The Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want
via FoxyTunes

Two Random Bits (OR: One observation and one minor revelation)

One: As part of work, there was a staff meeting Sunday morning, at eleven in the morning. Nothing terrible, aside from being before noon on a weekend. This is for someone who probably wakes up after 11 am more often than not anymore. Anyway, as this was mandatory and there would be no one to wake me up for it, I chose to set my alarm, for 10 am. In doing so, I see that it was last set for 4:20 in the morning. What's odd about that (and no, it was not set for 4/20. Grow up.)

Those who've actually been reading this blog regularly (all two of you) may remember that the last time...hell, the only time I've needed to wake up that early was for (now moot) fall registration.

A little research right on this site (meaning I have, in another Firefox tab, the blog to which I'm about to publish this post...and I call the other blog "the ADHD blog.") reminds me that the date was April 27.

This means I've not had to set that freakin' alarm in three months.

Be jealous.

2: My other, much less dramatic and blog-worthy (yet the reason I wrote this).

I've realized that, for practicality's sake...

I cannot wink.

Mama (OR: I'm Not Too Proud Yet)

The last few days have been abnormally shitty, even by the standards of this summer. I managed to get a rock stuck in my foot on Tuesday night. No, not like, poked by a rock, not cut by a rock; a very small piece of rock embedded itself in the ball of my foot.

Being such a small piece and all, it sure inflicted a hell of a lot of pain. It was placed right at the point where I put most of my pressure on, which might explain how it got there. All I saw was a small black speck that I had no chance of getting out. So of course what do I do?

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

As any young man in a similar predicament might do, I called on momma. Dig it out myself? With a needle? Dude, I'm not Aron Ralston (Wiki it).

Sure enough, we got some peroxide, Q-Tips, and we got that bugger out of there. Well, enough at least. Otherwise, I'd be whining a lot more. More than I normally do.

Yeah, I know, I complain about her sometimes. Like any teenager, my parents drive me nuts on a regular basis. But I really shouldn't underestimate that woman.

Two days (OR: The Life of Someone Else's Party)

The last three days have been a slightly madcap, Edward Norton in the beginning of Fight Club style. Lots of action, little sleep, and not exactly a solid connection to my senses.

In the last two days, I've had approximately ten hours of good, solid sleep.

So I'm shamelessly stealing this survey from Gill. I have no problem with that.

Copied and pasted from Nothing But Song. Filled out by my own accord.

1. Do you like having your picture taken?
More so than I'd probably admit.

2. Have you ever done a photo shoot, professional or non?
Senior pictures, yes. We went out to Hayden Falls, and I got some gorgeous photos. Cheap ones, too.

In front of or behind the camera? See, this is why you shouldn't answer these things too soon.

3. If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go and why?
London. Such a fascinating city. It's probably the closest to being the capital of the world, more so than New York or Washington.

4. Who would you take with you on this adventure?
I'd prefer to go it alone. There's one person who I'd think about taking, but I won't name names just now.

5. What would you say is the most daring thing to do in a lifetime.
Real independence. The idea that you are free of the pressure of anyone else. Pretty much impossible, though.

6. Would you ever do that?
Would I? Maybe. Could I? Probably not.

7. Have you ever done crossword puzzles?
I don't much care for them.

8. Ever actually completed one?
Yes. There's still a bit of pride to it.

9. Pick up the closest book and write a sentence at random from it.
"Later, the Foster-light brawl would overshadow what turned into one of the stranger games of the season." Of course, it's a sports book.

10. Do the same with either a CD or a lyric from the radio.
"Did you think the word 'alternative' was only meant for the likes of you?"

11. Have you ever tried to analyze your own dreams?
Nah, I hardly have any dreams to analyze. Besides, I'm pretty sure most dreams are just your brain fritzing out. (I'm not always

12. Would you put up posters in your room?
Would I? Dude, I do. Brian McBride, and Goldfinger...and War of the Worlds.

13. Can you sing?
I pretend I can.

14. Do you ever sing to yourself while doing every day tasks?
It's the only way I survive. I was singing "Elephant Gun" by Beirut a few minutes ago while doing laundry. Wonderful vocals (Condon, not myself)

15. What’s your favorite color of post-it note?
I like the neon blue ones. I used to leave all over Morgan's room just to fuck with him. Heh.

16. How many cassette tapes do you own?
I've made a few mixes using the computer and my stereo. But other than that, none.

17. How many CDs do you own?

About to dozen legals, they're upstairs in a dresser drawer. Yes. A dresser drawer. Shut up.

18. Ever bought a CD just for one song?
Lou Bega, "A Little Bit of Mambo"

19. What would your perfect day consist of?
Just about anything touristy, really. I'd love to just start driving and stop whenever I damn well feel like it. Driving is one of my absolute favorite things in the world. It's something I'm actually better than many people at (take that as you will), and it's how I relax. So I'd love to take off and just...go somewhere. Anywhere. Off to the west of where I work is Interstate 70. That little road can take me so many places. Someday, I shall let it...

20. Have you ever lied to get off the phone or out of talking to someone online?
I'm a guy. Of course I have.

21. Have you ever written a survey?
I tried. But it's enough work to fill out something like this (just a step above the typical MySpace survey.)

22. How about a song? If so, share it.
I wrote a few songs way back in middle school, one of them was quite not awful. "I'm Not Superman" (This was before Five for Fighting and/or Scrubs, thank you very much). I have no idea where I could find 'em though. I'm more of a listener.

23. Or maybe a poem? If so share it or one of them.
I'd rather not share it right now. That's another post for another place. But yes, I write a bit on occasion.

24. Is your VCR flashing 12:00 all the time?
VCR? What VCR?

25. Do you read your horoscope?
If I see it, I'll read through it and laugh.

26. If so do you base your day on it?
You read my last answer and guess.

27. Would you rather chew gum or use mouthwash, and why?
Chew gum. I like to chew things.

28. Do you floss?
Not much.

29. Are you addicted to Napster like me?
Who are "you?" And why do you still use Napster. I prefer the iTunes store. Except I can't get Air Traffic in the US store. Bastards.

30. How many times a year (about) are you sick?
Not often.

31. Ever been in an airplane?
Quite often. I've gotten past the "oh my god this is so cool" phase of it by this point.

32. If so, where were you flying to?
Most recently, it was from Nashville to Columbus and back for Darby's prom. That was a terrific weekend, if I do say so myself.

33. What radio station do you listen to most?
101.1 when it's my choice. We listen to 99.7 at work, but I don't care for the hard rock. 96.3, classic rock is always a good compromise.

34. What color are your shoes?
I wear a few pairs, but my sneakers are bright red and kickass.

35. Was Fuzzy Wuzzy a bear?
Duh.

36. Do you know how to play Dominoes?
Yes I do. Haven't played in forever...hmm, might go to Yahoo here in a while...

37. Or do you think I just mean pizza by that?
No. I'm no simpleton.

38. Speaking of pizza, what’s your favorite kind?
Toppings-wise, sausage. Brand-wise, I prefer Donato's (a Columbus chain for those of you not in know. You're missing out.), though I really like Mollica's, a joint that went out of business a while back.

39. What color are your eyes?
Yellow. No joke.

40. How many surveys have you filled out this lifetime?
Too many.

41. Describe your bedroom. Include all details.
Right now, I'm in the processing of actually cleaning it out, for real, for good. But my bed takes up about half the space, and like the rest of it, is rather plain-looking. I've got my dresser with the stereo on top next to it, the desk against the wall, and a stuffed-to-the-rafters closet. And one solitary window.

42. Name one person your life is made better by.
Let's get corny for a minute, and say my dad. He actually gets that I'm in the process of becoming an adult. He gives me far more respect than I deserve. He doesn't treat me like a stupid teenager, even when I am one. He whips my ass into shape when necessary, and genuinely cares. My god, I'd be a wreck otherwise.

43. Would you or have you ever shaved your head?
I got a buzzcut every summer when I was a kid. That's the closest I ever came. Or will ever.

44. How about someone else’s?
I could see that being fuuuuuun.

45. Can you do math with ease?
I semi-enjoy basic-level algebra. I really get how people can enjoy that kind of thing, there's a small sense of victory in that kind of thing.

46. What size is your computer screen?
I'm gonna estimate 12 inches. It's a laptop.

47. If you could only talk to one person online who would it be?
Either Jennie or Hanna. Don't make me choose, people.

48. Name your favorite type of music and why?
I like alternative rock, the peppy stuff. The Killers make me happier than any other band out there. I here anything on Hot Fuss, and I get all giddy inside.

49. Are you a vegetarian?
No. I absolutely love steak and chicken. Still, I respect 'em. And now I want a chicken breast...that sounds so goooood.

50. How about an aspiring actor/actress?
Aspiring? No. Have I thought about dropping everything and giving it a go? On the occasion.

51. What famous person, dead or alive, would you interview if you had the chance?
That answer changes all the time, but right now, it'd be Paul McCartney. I'm sort of worshiping him as of late.

52. Which movie can you watch and say the lines along with the actors?
The musical version of The Producers. And Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

53. Name one of your passions in life.
Music. I literally changed my mind on something I'd never changed my mind on since middle school.

I want to be a music critic.

A lot of people list music as their passion in life. But I'm more serious about it than many. Listening to a great song for the first few times, letting it become your obsession, is one of the greatest joys in life. And I love the feeling I get from recommending a band or a song or an album to someone, and knowing that they'll almost always come back and tell how much they love it. Music is what I live for.

54. What is your least favorite time of day?
Right after you wake up, especially if you didn't want to.

55. Who is your favorite member in a band (singer, guitar, bass, drummer… and why?
Liam Gallagher is God. Not a god, not god. Capital G, people.

56. Do you use hairspray or gel?
Gel. And for some reason, it makes the complexion in my face a bit darker when I use it.

57. Describe your favorite meal.
Perfect pasta. Lasagna with the perfect about of meat in it...oh. My. God.

58. What color is the inside of your head when you close your eyes?
Emo black.

59. Ever listen to classical music?
Mostly film scores. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, Gladiator, and a few others. Hans Zimmer is pretty good.

60. Have you ever said LOL in real life without thinking about it.
No. I don't use LOL on the internet, even.

61. Do you find you use Internet language when writing notes IRL?
I do use the occasional "roffle." But that's only when I'm being ironic, of course.

62. What songs would be on your ideal CD?
You mean my ultimate mixtape? Oh lord, I can't even BEGIN to work on that one.

63. Say one thing you learned today.
Chipotle burritos are a lot less messier without an extra scoop of chicken. However, they are also a lot less delicious.

64. What is the best present you’ve ever given someone else?
Hm...now that I remember, I wrote a song for Tracy for her birthday/our one year. It sucked completely, but she dug it.

65. What is the best present someone else has ever given you?
Either the guitar, my video iPod, or the Coldplay tickets for my 18th. All three were incredible.

66. So hey, what’s your full name?
Raymond T. Lockman. You get no more than the bank does.

67. Describe yourself while drunk.
Surprisingly calm and talkative. Also, horny.

68. How big are the windows in your house?
I'm with Gill's answer on this one. I don't really know what to compare mine to. Taller than a midget, wider than a cow.

69. Do you wear a watch?
Off and on.

70. What’s the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done with someone else?
Like a true lady, a gentlemen does not kiss and tell. I don't think you'd care to hear that anyway.

71. What’s the largest age difference between you and someone you’ve dated?
I was older than my second girlfriend by a year and three months. That's the biggest. Remember, you're dealing with a guy who's dated exactly four girls in the last four years. Not a lot of history to draw from there.

72. How many mirrors do you have?
I have one in my room. We have tons all over the house, I really don't care for them now.

73. Write one sentence you want people to say about you once you’ve passed on.
"No, people. For the last time, he he wasn't gay.

74. Have you ever sailed?
Funyaked. That's gibberish to you, though.

75. How fast can you run?
I used to run cross-country, and I still have the legs to prove it.

76. What do you believe in?
I believe in God, rock and roll, and a thing called love.

77. How long does it take you to get ready to go out?
Not too long. If I do my hair, about 15 minutes. (What a girl, Ray.)

78. Do you shower daily?
Yes. In fact, that's how I can judge my mood. Reminds me of Art Brut...
You can tell how bad you feel
By how long you're in the shower
You're in and out in minutes
Whereas it used to take hours

79. What one thing would you change in your life if you had the power to do so?
I'd give myself more willpower. No question on that one. And I'd like to a smidge smarter.

80. Describe the ideal superpower and what you would do if you had it.
I wouldn't mind invisibility, and not for the reasons you perverts think. If no one knows you're around, they tend to be more candid, one way or the other. I'd be able to observe stuff, not just things pertaining to me.

81. Are candles romantic or a fire hazard?
Meh. I prefer matches.

82. Name something you’ve done in the last 24 hours, no matter how big or small.
I went to the thrift store with Jennie and Erin and Joss. It was a terrific time. I found a few shirts (I have a penchant for old team jerseys, no clue why.) and was once more embarrassed by some of the best friends anyone could have.

83. Do you wear necklaces/bracelets/anklets/earrings/rings?
Nope.

84. What colors are you wearing right now?
Gray hoodie, teal shirt, blue jeans.

85. How often do you change the sheets on your bed?
Not too often.

86. Have you ever gotten lost? If so, explain.
I get lost every now and then, mostly in places...it's hard to explain. The city of Columbus, I know well. But certain sections, right off highways always give me fits. I got lost off 4th Street for half an hour once.

87. What’s on your computer desk?
Brace yourselves;

2 DVDs (Citizen Kane and Blazing Saddles), five CDs (including Five Iron Frenzy), a Big Red bobblehed (WKU's mascot), 2 cans of pop, lamp, USB port, external hard drive, remote, pitcher from my dorm room with dishes in it, webcams, N64 controller, and various photos. It's a mess.

88. How many folders are on your desktop at the present moment?
A few. I don't care to check right now. Yeah, I know. I'm lazy.

89. When you’re talking do you ever use your hands in the air to do quotation marks of certain words?
If I feel the need to emphasize sarcasm.

90. Which landmark would you climb if you could?
Ayers Rock is the first to come to mind.

91. Do you own or have you read or thought of reading any self help books?
Not particularly. Reading someone else's words is hardly self-help, now is it?

92. Ever seriously questioned your sanity?
Legitimately? No.

93. Can you break-dance ?
Ha. Ha. Ha. (oh. and you said dance. dance! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

94. What’s in your fridge right now?
So there's a theme here. I know we have lots of meat. And vegetables. Carrots are a staple. If we have those, I don't care what the hell else in there right now.

95. How many people do you live with?

3. Mis padres and my sister. Laaaaame.

96. Have you or would you ever do anything more than kiss in a public area?
I don't care for it in the least.

97. What is the strangest thing you’ve ever done?
Be born? Besides that, spending a week making a Simpsons trivia dealie and then asking all my friends to take it was pretty bizarre. Man I was hardcore obsessed...

98. Name an instrument you’ve never played but would like to.
Drums or electric guitar. Of course, learning piano or guitar would be nice, too.

99. Have you ever been on TV or the radio?
Yep. A few times.

100. What is the worst thing anyone could ever do to you?
Forget about me. Or tell me how they don't love me. Or abandon me on my birthday. I've had all three happen. Believe me, it sucks massively.

101. Are you a fast typer?
I'm getting better.

102. How high have you counted before getting bored?
Around three hundred or so. I got very bored as a young child, so I had to do something to pass the time. And I'm with Gill. This is one longass survey.

103. Describe how you sleep.
I wrap a pillow around myself and sleep on my sides. It's like a human burrito.

104. Are you straight/bi/gay?
Straight. Despite first impressions. Oy.

105. Do you ever do something else while on the computer? If so, what?
I've got the TV on at the moment. And I eat.

106. What is the most expensive item you own?
The iPod (which is on it's way home sometime this week) and my laptop.

107. How about the least expensive?
Way too much of that. Remember how I was cleaning out my room?

108. What’s your favorite card game to play?
Egyptian ratscrew. I kick ass at that game. I take on all challengers. Seriously, bring it.

109. What do you do online?
All sorts of things. Right now, I'm on a blogging jag.

110. Name some stores you’ve bought clothes in before?
Favorites (fine. Having favorite clothing stores....) are Old Navy and thrift stores.

111. Have you ever read a book and not understood it? If so, which one?
A few of 'em. I just didn't get into Lucky Jim as much as I'd hoped, except for the finale. Believe me, you don't want me to ruin it for you.

112. Have you ever watched a movie and not understood it? If so, which one?
Bicentennial Man and A.I. I hate those movies. Rabidly.

113. Do you think people pick up your slang language more than you pick up theirs?
Generally. I tend to get people into things. Wait...am I calling myself a trendsetter? Shit..

114. Are you easily influenced by other people or current trends?
More so than I'd like, but not horribly. I just don't get Hollister charging $50 for one flip-flop.

115. What makes you unique (in your own opinion)?
I'm oddly excited about random things.

116. Name your worst quality.
My willpower, or lack thereof.

117. Name your best.
My enthusiasm.

118. What would you like to do with your life?
I want to see as much of this world as I can; I want to listen to as much good music as possible; I want to love the best woman in the world; and I want to leave some kind of mark on this world.

119. Do you blow-dry your hair?
Nah. I don't have the hair to need it.

120. How many clocks are in your house?
Let's go with 10. I swear, most people don't memorize these kind of things. And I refuse to get up and check them, because as interesting as this particular survey is, and as dedicated as I am to these blogs, I'm not going to do that much physical work.

121. Are they all set at the same time?
Yes.

122. Have you ever intentionally set a clock ahead or behind the correct time?
I ought to steal Gill's five minute-ahead idea. I like to be early.

123. What do you think about when you first wake up in the morning?
What time did I make it to today? This means how much sleep? Oh, yeah...not enough. I swear, it's like the beginning of Fight Club anymore. That's probably not a good thing. At all.

124. Which browser do you use?
Firefox. I even got my mother to switch to Firefox.

125. Do you bite your nails?
Yeah.

126. Would you ever leave little notes to your gf/bf?
Tracy and I did. Mostly Tracy.

127. Ever been to a farm?
I'm a Lockman, they don't let us do that anymore.

128. Tell me about your dream last night.
Like I said, they're rather mundane. I'm sitting around with a particular girl you people wouldn't know and we chat. About who knows. I end up giving her a cigarette, she leans over me to get it, and sorta stays there. Very warm and fuzzy, I suppose. See, I don't have interesting dreams.

129. Ever seen a shooting star?
Yes, I have. Didn't wish on it, though, not my sort of bag.

130. Say one thing about yourself you’ve never told anyone.
Sometimes, I'm simply happier sitting alone, listening to a song, and I want to be left perfectly alone right there. But I start to feel guilty, and I still talk. Don't feel bad, sometimes I just suddenly resent....humanity. Like a lot of things...probably not healthy.

131. Do your days fly by or seem to last forever?
Lately, time has just seemed to whiz on by. Is it seriously the middle of July? Is it seriously 2007? I found myself at that thought the other day, and just thought to myself, "holy shit."

132. Have you ever stayed in a fancy, high class, rich hotel?
Fancy, high-class? Not quite. But I've had a room on the beach, right on the Pacific Ocean. It was in Lincoln City, Oregon. I'm telling you now, go there sometime. You'll thank me later.

133. Have you ever stayed in a rent-by-the-hour motel?
Nope. Rachel lives near one on Dixie highway, down in Louisville. I could stay there sometime. Heh.

134. What, in your opinion, is the best advertising slogan out there?
The Army had a great one, "Be All That You Can Be." It works so brilliantly, so simply. Alas, they had to modernize. Stupid bastards. (Just kidding, all the love in the world to our guys. Get yourselves back here soon, please!)

135. When they start sending rockets to the moon for us civilians will you be on the list to go?
Will I? No. I'd love to do it, though.

136. How are you feeling right now?
Tired. As I have since February. But I don't think it's physically possible for me to sleep before 2 am anymore...I tried yesterday, to no avail.

137. Have you ever written anything on your skin?
I do the occasional MTF equal sign, and feel like a dingus.

138. If so what?
Again with the asking me what I already answered, oy.

139. Which website do you frequent most often?
Facebook.

140. What color is most of your clothes?
That sentence made me wince, despite how grammatically correct it may be. Anyway, I own multiple shades of gray.

141. Do you own any plants?
Dood, if I have to feed and take care of something, make it a dog. Plants can't love you back. Unless it's a pepper plant. Mmm.

142. Are things as bad as they seem?
Probably not. I may be living at home, but it's better than having none.

143. Describe the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.
First thing I can think of is the lady sending me my iPod.

144. Have you ever looked directly at the sun?
Yeah. It's a baaaaaad idea, people.

145. Have you ever made a pin hole camera to watch the eclipse?
No. I remember Bill Nye teaching us how to do it and I just never did.

146. What’s your favorite cereal?
Honey Nut Cheerios and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I can eat half a box of either in one sitting.

147. Who do you miss?
A lot of people, mostly from school. Hanna. Rachel. Adam. Erica. Grace. Melissa. Graham. All kinds of people.

148. Name something you just cannot forget, no matter how hard you try.
All the stupid, lame, horrible things I did when I was a kid.

149. Describe the worst fight you’ve ever been in whether physical or verbal.
I gave a kid a bloody nose in the 4th grade. And got away with it, too.

150. Say something else about yourself you’ve never told anyone before.
Fine. I would change things. Many things.

The end.

Crisis Mode? (OR: Assorted worries of the wayward 19-year-old)

I have no idea where this is going, if it's going anywhere at all. I've got stuff to say, but at the moment, I'm still trying to decipher how I'm going to say it.

This BW3's job is fine. I like it, I like going to work whenever I have to, and it's enough money to keep me going. But the problem is...well, it's me, really. I have ADHD, and admittedly, I don't have the control over it that I'd like. My concentration can become spotty quite often, and when that happens in a high-pressure kitchen, mistakes happen, and sometimes worse. And regardless of what's to blame, responsibility falls on me. Right now, I'm doing alright, but I can do so much better. And that's been a recurring theme in my life, for as long as I can remember.

I know I have a problem. It's been this way for years, and years, and years. And to be honest, I dread having to scrape up the energy and motivation needed to finally get some steam up in my life. I look around me, and everyone around me is exactly what I want...no...they're what I should be. Semi-successful, definitely with the goals and the plans and the ways of getting to where they want to go.

I'm not really anything I really wanted to be by now. And I saw this coming, every step, every inch of the way. What in hell's name was I doing, why did I not do something, anything? Am I so focused on the moment, on where I am, that I can't even stop the train before it flies off the tracks when I get to the bottom of the hill? Do I lack personal foresight to the point that I see the rail split ahead and yet continue to gather momentum?

So it appears...

As of now, I fear my descent into nothing, into being nobody has begun. It's not too late, but I'm heading there. I've hit an identity crisis before my 20th birthday. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, not at all...

I found a letter on abeautifulrevolution, one of my personal favorite blogs. Andre Jordan, the writer, has begun posting "Letters to the Grown-ups", in which he addresses the rather boring folks he ought to be a part of by now...and it's so identifiable. I always wondered if anyone else out there struggled to make sense of some of these things, and there are plenty of successful folk who do...comforting in a way, I suppose...

To Hell With the Clock (OR: Actually...why am I awake?)

Driving on Nike Rd. at 1:30 in the A.M., covered in wing sauce and latex dust, I'd say I'm well into the swing of work.

Tonight was definitely my most hectic yet, but somehow also my most enjoyable. I even managed to properly fold a wrap. That it took two days no longer matters...I wasn't even manning that station and I got it. Small victories are often the ones we savor most.

Meanwhile, I just realized it's 3 in the morning now. I should definitely be sleeping.

On the bright side, I have discovered how great Iron & Wine is at such a late hour.

I Should Be Working on the Fence

Finally.

Tonight is my first night of training at BW3's, my brand new job. I'm cookin' in the kitchen, makin' wings n stuff.

I don't care that I'll spending my summer in a hot, steamy kitchen at a sports bar. There is far worse in this world, and from all I've heard, it's going to be a terrific time. Besides, sports while I work.? What kind of hellhole is that?

More importantly, I finally have a job. At long last, I won't be sitting on my ass all day, making no money. I've got a job that will not only give me hours, but that gives me flexibility in the fall. I'll have my carcass at Columbus State then, but I'll still be spending money.

Originally, I was going to be working at Marzetti's on Frank Road. I'd be sitting in a factory from three in the afternoon until one in the morning. Not exactly ideal, now is it? I wasn't necessarily dreading it, as it was a steady paycheck, which is more than I can say now, but that's a lot of tedious, monotonous work for it. 10 hours is almost too much to ask from me - "almost" because I really had little choice until I got a call from the BW3's manager Sunday morning. By that evening, I had a job.

After the last month or so that I've had, it's nice to see that things really end up working out well. It's not going to be the same as working in the zoo, but I'll find a way, I'm sure.

Not like I have a choice.

Victory! (OR: Ray 1, Technology...a lot)

I finally did it. I got music onto the memory card for my cell phone. Finally, Butch is a music machine. (Yes, my phone's name is Butch. And yes, I name my devices. And yes, I am straight.)

You see, this is, sadly, more an accomplishment for me than I'd care to admit. I like to consider myself at least technically savvy. I'm no expert, but usually I can work my way through a pile of cables with relative ease.

Then this little chip entered my life. It was Elise's birthday present to me, as temporary replacement for my iPod (which I lost. Because I am awesome.). It seemed simple enough: plug in my phone with the USB cable, or put the music on the chip, then put it in my phone, hit the play button, and jam. I was gonna enjoy the flight to Nashville with tuneskis of my choosing, all thanks to my little phone.

Ray's face, meet wall.

I finally got the phone connected to the computer after trying about four thousand times or so. I get all the best music I had into a neat-o little playlist, and load it on...

One song? What the fuck, phone? Most things with a play button play...more than one thing. Fuck that.

So I load the little chip into the computer...and I still can't get it synchronized with my phone. I put it straight onto the damned chip! I'm swearing every sentence now, Butch. Is that what you wanted?

I manage to load one song on: "Technologic" by Daft Punk. Ever since the end of April, I've managed to inadvertently press the play button on the front of the phone and start that little voice...stares ensued.

So I finally decide...what the hell, let's see what we can do. I've not even been able to connect it previously, and things went the same tonight. Then...I hold in place.

CONNECT

You mean...the only way I can ensure that my $150 phone will connect the way it's supposed to is to hold the cord in place? What the fuck, technology?

Now I have some dandy songs on the playlist. And what's the first line one hears when the music comes on?

"If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for ya son/I got 99 problems, but a bitch ain't one."

Smoov, Ray. Smoov.

Number Four (OR: My aunt's new nickname is Jaws)

"Diane's getting married Wednesday."
"Oh, that's nice. Tell her I said congrats."

Most little girls spend there lives dreaming of their wedding, the big elaborate day that they get to spend oodles and oodles of daddy's money on. The dress, the cake, the caterer, the reception, and the groom - all pieces of the day (gentlemen, do not be mistaken. Your role in a wedding is to show up on time, smile, and not sleep with the stripper from the bachelor party. No more, no less.). It's the biggest day they may ever know, and the bigger the wedding, chances are she's off to begin a fledgling career as a professional trophy wife.

At least, that's the dream.

The above was the approximate involvement of most of my family when my Aunt Diane got married last week.

Diane New-Ray-Ballard-whathisname-Jaworski. Yeah, her fourth marriage, and she's not hit 45 yet. Dear god. I don't think any of us remember number three's last name, as they were married for about forty-five minutes or so. All I remember about Dwight (that was his first name, anyway) was that he ran over the dog. Not necessarily the fondest memory, but Diane's dogs have a tendency to be annoying as hell, so maybe it's not a tragedy either. (Don't jump my shit, here people...I'm a dog person. But annoying dogs are not fun.)

This one is theoretically going to work. Diane's actually got her act together, which is far more than can be said of any of the others. Hell, actually falling in love with Mickey was not quite inevitable. The only problem is, there are four kids involved, three of whom still are present in her life, one of whom isn't even in high school yet. And the oldest is still attached to her dad. Never mind he happens to be an asshole. This is a guy who'd pawn anything that wasn't his the minute the owner stepped out of sight. Thank god he was never my babysitter...

Oddly enough, ask anyone who's from Kentucky or has relatives within, and you'll hear at least one similar story.

Good luck Diane. Or should I say...Jaws?

Don't ask me how, but I pull myself back up like that. No prolonged agony, at least none perceived. No epic moping or sel-pity. There's something I tend to be good at...self-pity. Of course, being as secretly self-absorbed as I tend to be, that really should come as no surprise.

But I'm in a pretty good mood. Maybe it's the fact the fact that I actually accomplished some things yesterday. I'm [hold finger and thumb about an inch apart]this close to a job...either a temp job or something a little more definite.

This morning, I'm practically bouncing. I suppose it's the Henry Tumbleweed filming, or maybe that I'm still hopped up on Sunkist (I've been drinking that stuff like it's water lately). I'm not entirely sure if I know what the reason is, but it's definite. I'll throw on some old clothes, head out back, and work on the fence some more. I said I'd have the inside done by the end of the weekend, and tomorrow's not looking that great, what with grad parties and whatnot.

It'll get done. I'll get my lines right today. And things, I hope, will work themselves out. God knows something gotta change.

Ray, and His Lack of Sleep (OR: 1 a.m. rant)

Cranky.

One word describes me this week, and agitated is a good shot.

I haven't slept peacefully, slept well...slept heartily, since forever ago, really. And I think that's part of my issue. I really wanted to catch Shaun of the Dead or L.A. Confidential since I have 'em both, but I think I might heed my own advice, for once. Hell, I can hardly type well, I'm missing the same letters over and over. It took me four tries to type "advice" a few sentences ago.

Hanna and I have been discussing this, and school really gave us more than we anticipated. The summer has already been a challenge, and I'm two weeks in. What happens if I get a 6 a.m. job?

"Sleep without pets, without phones, without a million things to do, without parents...solid...good...restful...needed sleep. No waking up in the middle of the night because home doesn't feel like home anymore.

That, quickly, is my summer.

Oh, how I miss my freshman year.

What's on Your Mind, Ray? (OR: Never mind. It's past your bedtime.)

I'm distressed right now. Frazzled? Stressing? Tired? Yes. Distressed? No, my friends, not yet. I think I'm working toward it, though. And being awake at 1:30 in the morning doesn't help.

I forgot how much I love A Rush of Blood to the Head. It's my stress album. It's what I listen to when I need to get myself out of whatever hole I've dug for myself. Much like Hot Fuss (my ultimate goodtimes album), I physically get into, and I don't care how dorky that is. It works somehow. Music is like therapy, but cheaper. And more reliable.

Grace and I played the "secret game." How that helps me I may never know. But the fact someone else can acknowledge some of my incomprehensible jabber is definitely encouraging.

I definitely missed Jeff. We actually get a lot from him. I remember why conservatives aren't evil, and why despite the fact I miss college, I still miss my high school days, too. Same with Matt. We're three guys who legitimately get each other and revel in who we are. If you have that and you know it, don't ever let it go. Every now and then, they'll remind you why you need them. When I went through some of my trouble, they were there. Jennie and Erin and many others did, too, but these guys helped me like no one else could. That I give thanks for all the time.

You know what I need right now? Some legitimate direction. A clue. A solid sense of something, anything. I'm mulling around when I need to be taking some kind of action.

My only problem is that, frankly, I have no fucking clue what that action should be.

The Almighty Dollar (OR: All About What I Don't Have)

Lord, I can barely afford to hang out with my own friends. I've called the zoo for the last two weeks, at least once a day. No answer from HumaCare or the zoo. No response. Now I've received another notice from US Bank -- insufficient funds? I had the money in there, but they charge me anyway. (Don't get me started on banks and their ways...damn banks. All of them. To the deepest pits of hell).

When you can't even be sure you can see your friends...

This is the wonderful thing about growing up. All of my old ghosts are really haunting me. I desperately want to return to Western this fall. I don't care if I'm a six-hour car ride away from home, it's just as good. There are people there I've shared some of greatest moments with. And now...it could all be gone. For good or for now, I don't know. But what's done is done, and I have to wait how things play out...one extra paper turned in to McMichael...one extra night working on a speech...a few more interviews for my Public Affairs final...so many things that, with the glorious benefit of hindsight, I clearly see I should have done.

Hindsight is a pain in the ass. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, knowing myself. It's never particularly helpful. It comes directly from making the very mistakes that you then learn you needed to avoid. There are so, so many points I can look to and say, "Damn. Why didn't I do that?" And while I can learn from them, I'll never have the chance to correct them.

I've got plenty on my mind. I'm not normally a quiet reserved guy. Any time spent with me makes this obvious. But I've been relatively sedate lately ("sedate" by my standards still means more active and...ADHD...than a sizable chunk of the populous) and I'm not sure I like it. Ray Lockman is a live wire. It's what I am, it makes me who I am. It's why the people who love me love me. It's why the people who can't stand me want to strangle me.

Oddly enough...I've learned to use that energy to my advantage. I've really made huge strides in my confidence since high school. It's probably one of the things I really lacked until late in high school, and now it's made me feel almost invincible. My optimism, my energy, my zeal have been a shield, and armor of sorts.

I'm feeling worn, like a toy that's been wound a few too many times. And staying awake doing about nothing isn't helping. A sane person would be asleep right now. Then again, a sane person can do more than just identify their flaws...

And here's where the chinks start to show. I'm wearing thin and tearing apart. It's not a disaster, but it certainly isn't boding well for the future, now is it?

Summer Days (OR: Tomorrow's gonna come too soon)

Finals week is bringing me to a state I'm not all that accustomed to: a calm determination I've not experienced as much as maybe I should. I suppose that I haven't really needed to go into panic mode like I have the last few years or so. I guess making it to class day in, day out is actually a brilliant idea and should be imitated by some of my peers. All goes well and I'll be back in Bowling Green.

As for the meantime, I had in interesting recall yesterday, while in the shower of all places. (I know some people say that you do your best thinking in the shower, but I tend to do mine while mowing or driving.)

Like the majority of people on this planet, I'm a creature of habit. I wake up about half an hour before class, or kill time until I have half an hour till class. Dinner is usually a each day, and lunch is almost constant. This changes from one semester to the next, depending on a few things.

The last thing I do before I get to bed in take a shower (growing up in a house of five, you learned to get warm showers whenever it is possible). And as I stepped into the showers on the seventh floor, I suddenly remembered those first few hours alone in Keen Hall. My parents, my sister, and my girlfriend were all on their way home. All my other friends were still in Ohio...hell, Ohio was still my true home. And on that evening in August, I was as alone as I've ever been. I knew exactly one person. That would change soon enough, but for the moment, I finally grasped the reality of all this.

For the next nine months, this was home. This was were I'd eat, sleep, and live out the day-to-day. I'd be home, but not very long. These people, I'd grow with, learn with, all that generic stuff. It was all a little overwhelming, but I promised I'd make the most of it.

And I just about have. Like almost any long experience, I've had things I wished I had done differently, but overall, I'm pleased with my time here. Marching band, the thing that made high school bearable, helped soften the blow. It introduced people as nerdy as me to me. I met close friends, eventual foes, and plenty of....intriguing folk, to say the least. And soon, I'd meet some of the closest people I've ever known.

Now, the day-to-day is over. Finals week is a different beast enitrely. And I have so much to do before I leave this world behind for the coming months. It isn't going to be easy, saying goodbye. I've shared so much time with so many people, and even more with a few. They are the ones I'll remember: the faces, the voices, the true friends who've been there. The ones I'll actually talk to late into the night when they pop up on AIM.

To you, I say thanks. Thanks for the memories made, and the memories yet to be made. Here's to surviving the summer, and those familiar welcome-back hugs in August. Here's to drunken weekends, and Thursday night "country drives." Here's to every cry of "you skank!" that was heard down the hall.

Here's to what made us who we are, different even from the nervous, anxious freshman we were when we started it all.

Summer will be different with you. And without you.

Two Weeks, and Counting (OR: Ray is a cranky bitch)

An odd combonation of muscle relaxers and video games has really made me cranky at the particular moment. This is definitely not good.

How in hell do you tell someone politely that you're too crabby to talk on the phone? Lordy.

I've got two weeks left in this grand experiment called "Freshman year," and it's really getting to me. A lot of stress is piling up on me, and right now mankind is not something I want to deal with. I really oughta just go to bed, perhaps?

The end of a school year has never been good to me, but add in the role of me trying to maintain relationships here and at home, and get ready to leave and finish final projects....you get the picture. I'm normally not one to buckle under pressure, but I really think it's getting to me.

I know immediately I'm getting the phone calls of "are you okay?" and "Do you need my help?"

Truth is...no. I've made it through before. I'll make it through again. What will not kill me will make me strong.

I'm 19 now. I've been ovwer, and soon...I'm going to be twenty. I know it's not even a third of your life gone by, but things are speeding up more and more. Life is getting more hectic, and this is only the beginning. Once I get a slightly more legitimate job (i.e. a career instead of summers at the zoo) I'll be in knee deep.

I'm losing sleep. I'm getting insanely crabby. Lord oh lord, am I ever looking forward to summer.

Registration (OR: Things to do in MMT when you're dead)

So I awoke a little less than an hour ago, and am now in the middle of the Mass Media and Technology Hall's computer lab because of what?

Registration.

This is my day to register, as I am part of the last group of current students to do so (bloody system) and I wanna beat the rush. Only I have no computer. Sure, I could probably wait till 7 or even 8 a.m., but why not suffer a little? So trudge I did, for I needed a spot in French 101.

That's how bad the lack of spots in Spanish classes is. I'm taking French, for Chrissake. Now I'm never gonna hear the end of it from my family. (I also just learned that the automatic spellchecker recognizes "chrissake" but not "spellchecker." Neat-o.)

Busy day, busy weekend ahead. Later today, I have a study board "thing" at 10, a speech at 11:30, packing, eating and a flight to catch down in Nashville at 7:30, which I need to check in for online still.

And the prom is tomorrow. After I get my new license. Yay driving, yay lines. [Read that second "yay" as "fuck"]. Also yay bumpin' grind music woooooo. [Good story, Ray!]

And this is where you, the reader, snap back and say, "sit down and shut up, Sparky. I do worse every day."

Yeah, you do. That doesn't mean I have to like what I'm doing.

Now it,s time for the incredible adventures of...

YUPPIEBOY!

If the following does not scream pretentious liberal arts snob...










What does?

What the hell have I become?! And the awful truth is...

IT GETS WORSE.
Now I'm hungry. A bit of a dilemma considering breakfast doesn't happen for another hour and a half. Bleh.

Body Count (OR: Another sad story)

For the second time this year, a student has died on campus.

It was another freshman male, a guy named Jaron Kormelink. To be honest, I don't recognize the name. I never met him, at least not that I know of. He lived on the opposite side of my building, Keen Hall, where his body was discovered by a service attendant. By all accounts, he had hanged himself as much as three days prior, which I've not heard any verification of. Authorites were called in, and the investigation is underway.

This being the second incident of its kind this year, there is plenty of talk of "what's going wrong?" all around campus. The truth is, this is not too unusual. It happens at schools all across the nation, and most of them have the plan to handle it. The fact is that the vast majority of students in dorms are in their late teens and early twenties. Many have never has a legitimate taste of the real world, and when they get to this scary new life, they aren't capable of handling the pressure.

It's similar to what I said after Dylan Prott's death. (Prott fell to his death after falling out his window in Pearce-Ford Tower, tripping on mushrooms). These things are unfortunately inevitable. There's not nearly as much we can do about as we'd like. Simply, we must learn to deal with them as they happen and do our best to prevent the circumstances from claiming yet another young life.

The Dark Side (OR: The magic of Thund...oh, dammit)

Bippity boppity BOOM!

Despite the lame headlines that preceded it, I thoroughly enjoyed my very first Thunder over Louisville. For those you in Columbus, it is comparable to Red, White & Boom! with a few things Boom does not have:

1) More fireworks
2) Tolerable weather (April in Kentucky beats July in Ohio, whether you like it or not)
3) A bridge

Adding to this was my brief experience with what I shall call..."The Dark Side."

The title of this blog stems not from the capital of Ireland, but the capital of...prep? I'm not sure what it is, but Dublin, Ohio, stands for a few things I tend to despise, such as arrogance and....uh, stuck-uppery...sounds good. The point is that they use their wealth and social standing to their utmost advantage, and rarely miss an opportunity to rub it in our faces. This applies mostly to the Coffman variety of Dublinite, as I know a good number of great people from Dublin Scioto High School. (Jerome? They don't count yet.)

This all is relevant because, well, I sorta got a taste of that life Saturday. I'm not saying my family is poor. We enjoy a fine life, and I have no qualms about it. But I'm talking about that little extra. I'm talking about spending a day on the balcony of an apartment in the Galt House one of Louisville's finest hotels.

It pretty much went like this: Rachel's mom is friends with a very successful oncologist. This lady, being an oncologist, makes lots of money. People who make lots of money get to rent apartments in the Galt House for Thunder. We got the wristband and went up to the 12 th floor, right over I-64 and the Ohio River. Admittedly, there was part of the building to the right, but to the left, we had the river, and on the other side, Indiana stretched on forever.

We're talking free food and free alcohol, but of course, that was only for legal adults. There was also the result of free alcohol later in the evening, but for their sakes, I won't name any names. And by my fifth whiskey and Coke, names didn't matter much, anyway.

I don't think I've consumed so much fried chicken and drank so many free drinks in my life (I'm actually talking about the non-alcoholic kind, mostly). And it struck me...so this is what's it's like. It's not about the most expensive things in the world, it's simply getting out of the crowd. We watched what we could underneath us, but most was covered by the interstate. A few of us ventured down, to find Mrs. Koontz an authentic corn dog (if there is one thing that most hotels can't do properly, it's carnival food) but we managed only a half-ass attempt at checking a few stands between the hotel, the Great Lawn and back.

So will I be able to wade through the crowds and Red, White and Boom! this year? Absolutely. That's part of the experience. We still had the drunken street encounters (one girl on Second Street explained, "We gotta get to Breckenridge!) and there was still the long, long, wait to get out of traffic. After all, no festival is truly complete without the hour-plus line to get out a parking lot.

All in all, it was a good time, and the four people I was with made it all even better. And I know that afternoon was an exception, and I'm definitely not expecting anytime soon.

But dammit, that was good chicken.

Dean Dean Kahler (OR: I might as well dress the part)

Today mark my first really big interview since Dave Stewart. Never mind it took me a good two weeks to finally nail down some time. It got done and now I can go about no failing Public Affairs Reporting. Not failing is always a good thing.

I got Dean Kahler, the Dean of Admissions, to sit down for a few minutes so I could actually ask a few questions. This was just enough, though I'll admit I could've asked a few more. The only problem was that he didn't have the information I was hoping he'd have.

As is usual in these situations, I got myself gussied up, and borrowed an iron to do so. Ever try to iron a shirt on a half-size ironing board...on your own bed? THAT is the kind of thing college does to you. Never mind the whole education thing; half of your education comes from living in a college dorm room. This teaches you how to utilize space and resources to the max. Your bed is everything....sleeping quarters, couch, study pad, and even a dinner table, if your desk isn't usable. And to think I'll have even less space in PFT next year. Oh god.

Anyway, I definitely look like a yuppie. God, I pull this look off. Too well.

I took a shower last night, and one this morning to obliterate my cowlick - not that it worked. And never mind that I forgot to shave.

In something completely off-topic, there has been a shit-ton (pronounced "shihton", emphasis on the second syllable) of high school kids all over campus. At first, I wanted to impress these kids, not for my sake, but for the university. Yes, I'm still a dork like that. But now, they are a plague, taking up valuable eatin' space in the food court. And they have apparently never used a soda fountain before, as they take forever. (Yes, a soda fountain. That's the only time I call it soda. It's POP dammit!) God, when they start infes...er, living in Schneider Hall next year...

So at this point, I'm all dressed up and I have nothing to do. Sounds like time for lunch.

Hoorah.

Me (OR: Obligatory 'What the hell's going on here' post)

Ray Lockman is a strange child.

That's the first thing you need to know. I am not quite what most people consider normal. I'm a fairly simple guy, and I have a few passions. But I guess "quirky" would be a good way to describe me ("quirky" here meaning "what in the hell is wrong with that boy?").

I am not the complete prototypical yuppie child, but I'm damn close. Born and raised in the suburbs of Columbus (a city much like myself - secretly liberal, but insisting on moderation), now attending a moderately large public university (albeit in Kentucky). And to top it all off, I'm a Journalism major.

Ding!

I enjoy many things, despise a few, and I generally tolerate the stuff in between. I'm the man or boy or male or whatever you call me that I am, and I try to live my own life. I have my failures and weaknesses, as much as we all do or more, and I do my fair share of self-destruction. (Hoorah vodka!)

I'm a proud Lutheran being educated in the start of Baptist territory. Actually, one of my professors describes Southern Kentucky and Tennessee as "the buckle of the Bible Belt." I do believe that makes Northern Alabama and Georgia the sweaty crotch. Anyone who's spent a summer there wouldn't argue with that.

Western Kentucky University is my current home, and I'm content here. It's a good six-hour drive between here and home, but I manage to survive. The occasional visit home is always a fun time, unless I have trouble with Greyhound. Fuck Greyhound.

Western is a neat little school; we're smack dab in the middle of a huge change in the profile of the school from regional to national. Like a lot of out-of-state kids, I'm here for the Journalism program. We are considered a bit a scourge to the locals. A scourge that thinks better of itself than any stuck up it's own ass scourge should, but a scourge nonetheless.

When I'm at home and they're in session, I am also a part-time student of The Ohio State University ("part-time" here meaning I mooch meal swipes and do everything but go to classes.).

More or less, that's a start to me. Of course, if that's all there was to myself...even I'd hate to read this. That's why I'm saving the tasty tidbits for whenever I come up with 'em.