It's the third installment of the finals week blog-a-thon. These are like the most chill days of the year. This is even more chill than K-week. One sec, let me send a text to Tom. Ok, I had to wish him good luck on his last final.
So yeah what the fuck everyone? Everyone's moving out! Like the courtyard is littered with SUV's and shit like it was on move-in day. Seriously what is the rush to leave? This place is awesome. And once your finals are over you don't have to do anything but enjoy the beautiful campus and people. Everyone's rushing around like a chicken with their head cut off struggling to get home as early as possible. Which is WRONG! I've been slowing myself down this week. Like literally every day this week I've had less to do and that is nothing short of heavenly! Now that there's only one final left on my horizon, and I've studied up for it and shit already, I'm moving so slow I've almost stopped. Just walking to commons at 3:30 in the afternoon (which is when I woke up this morning) I noticed myself strolling and meandering rather than a stressful speed-walk. And I heard bird chirping and shit and it was so peaceful! It was like the light at the end of the tunnel of this entire semester! I was rolling around in the relief! And then I looked over at some poor father of some sorority chick shoveling pounds of clothes into the family Toyota Highlander and was like wow I'm glad I'm not that guy.
So yeah I'm just taking it easy and enjoying my remaining time here, because I deserve it after how hard I've been working. I rode my bike to the grocery store today and bought some mixers and what not for drinking tonight. I might as well tie off the end of the semester with some Wasted Wednesday action. That'll be nice.
You know what? I've noticed that in the passed couple weeks I've been saying and repeating the phrase "enjoying myself". But it's only because that's like the theme of conclusion of this semester! So I'm gonna challenge myself to do nothing but "enjoy myself" for the entire winter break. It'll be a nice way to recuperate and do this winter break the right way. Fuck yeah.
I wonder what I was doing a year ago. Luckily I've been doing this blog for well over a year so I can easily look up what I was doing a year ago. Let's indulge. Hahahaha those were some good times back then. Snow days, Hobbs not letting me leave class. The truly magical thing about that though, is that despite how great high school was and how much fun and joy it brought me, it doesn't even compare to college. Life gets better as you grow, but only if you're good at it. (fucking facebook status right there). Like I remember so many truly awesome times in my life when I think "this is the best time of my life." But I end up saying that like every six months! Hopefully, that trend will continue. And I'll be sitting on the porch with Doug wielding a cigar and beer in 50 years saying "This is the best time of my life."
No matter where I go or what I do in life, knowing my charisma and positive attitude, I will probably constantly be thinking my life couldn't get better. Luckily, knowing my work ethic and powerful intelligence, I will probably end up being a pilot, a very successful pilot. Assuming I don't fuck anything up, my life should continue to get better and better. HYFR.
Jamal left me a cookie. He's such a good guy. I think I'll have one with my coffee. Mmmm good shit.
I have like goosebumps right now. I knew coming into finals week that as I got closer and closer to finishing the term I would begin feeling an incredible sense of accomplishment. I still have a final left and I'm already feeling this euphoria. Self-Actualization is an incredibly powerful force. Philosophers and psychologist say it's the most advanced determinate to the human ego, and I disagree. The human vagina is the biggest factor for the human ego and has the tightest grip around our emotions. But a close second place definitely goes to self-actualization. Cheers to smart attractive people!
Over the past few nights (of the best sleep I've ever fucking gotten due to my 3am-2pm sleep schedule) I've had several dreams of being on a cruise ship. The reason for this may be because I keep comparing my life to a cruise vacation, but I mean seriously my life is a vacation I can't help it. The neat thing about these dreams though, is that normal everyday things are happening in the dream, it's just I'm on a cruise. It's like the show "Suite Life: On Deck". For example I'll be studying in the stateroom, Jamal will come in and be like "Hey what's up dude, wanna grab a bite to eat with us?" And I'll be like sure, and he'll be like "You drinking tonight?" And I'll be like "Yeah why not" and so on and so forth.
It's interesting. It makes me realize that my life could easily be uprooted, and put on a cruise ship. That's how fucking chill my life is. The lifestyle I have now pretty much reflects life on a cruise ship, minus the beach and ocean and sunshine and Caribbean beach bar destinations. Ok maybe not. But the point is, and I say this in some way shape or form in almost every post: my lifestyle is chill and awesome. Word.
Well, it's almost time for the culmination of the first semester: the last final exam. Like all my other finals, I'll do my best just like my others and after the two hours, 5 pages, and 30 problems are done, my first semester of college is over. Overall I think it was a huge success, I'm now one step closer to achieving my ultimate dream of becoming a pilot. And to think I was able to get through it without cheating, without drugs, without depression, without transferring, without switching majors to psychology, and while still having a great time, I couldn't think of a better way to start college. I'm only 12% through college and I've already mastered it. Now I can relax for three more weeks and then I'll do it again. Until then...
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Bigass 8 on my window
What's up world? Yeah that's right, second blog post in a row. Haven't done that shit since high school. The reason I'm putting down the blogs like my hand's hurting is due to finals week. I've developed a ritual to do my finals, and I think it works pretty well.
I wake up at like 2:00 in the afternoon. I roll out of bed, take a shower, eat, brush my teeth, all that shit. Then I kill some intense studying for like three straight hours. I mean I'm talking motivated studying where I just go geek-mode until I get every single thing right like I've known it all year. After that I relax a little bit and do this blog, tis a solid way to get all the stress out of my head and while I write I sip down the coffee and get focused for the final I have in 3 hours. Then I kill a lite workout and have a little something to eat to further reduce the stress. Then it's fucking show time. I listen to some motivational crap on youtube and get ready to take that test like fuck yeah. Once the test is over, it's a huge-ass relief and I can enjoy the rest of the evening doing whatever I wanna do. Since I had two cups of coffee at like 6pm I typically can't sleep until a solid 3 in the morning, and that's fine by me. So I fall asleep, wake up, wash rinse repeat until finals are over.
There's a bigass "8" illuminating my window drawn out of Christmas lights. That is a little idea I had last night to represent my floor for the rest of campus. I don't know how noticeable it is, or if anyone will understand what it means. But for everyone on my floor that means OCHO BITCH.
So there's a sign on my door that says "Kirwan tower, other insignificant dorms, and Wildcat Lodge will not be closing over winter break." Now that's cool and all, but that makes me wonder what Wildcat Lodge is. That must be the chillest, broest, most amazing dorm on campus. I mean it's called Wildcat Lodge! What do you think of when you hear the words "Wildcat Lodge?". I imagine you walk in and it's like Albion Base Camp at Alta, like there's wood floors, wood walls, wood furniture, a wooden spiral staircase that leads to a wooden loft looking over the wooden lobby. I bet the temperature throughout the Lodge is like only 60 degrees, but the warm fire makes it like 80 in certain parts of the room. I bet it's surrounded by redwoods and shit that keep the lodge shady in the summer but insulated in the winter. I bet every couple of months they have a Wildcat Lodge social and invite everyone to enjoy free food and cocktails while someone plays Canon on the piano.
Yes, if I lived in the Wildcat Lodge I would NEVER leave. On Saturdays and Sundays I would go down the spiral wooden staircase to the lobby and sit by the fire with a cup of coffee and watch the snowfall until noon. Then I would pull out a good book and read until the light of the fire was the only light left. Only then I would grab my coat and gloves and head out to the party. That would be the life, but I'm definitely not complaining about Kirwan Tower.
Ok here's a question I've been pondering for a few weeks now. So we only party at night right? And that is because dark=sexy. So if in Alaska in the winter it's perpetually dark and night, does that mean they party at ANY hour of the day/night? If I lived in Alaska, I would throw a fucking party at 3 in the afternoon! And it would be the livest shit in the county. I mean could you imagine stumbling back home and it only being 10pm? Then you could get a good night sleep and effectively sleep through your hangover. I bet they party a lot in Alaska during the winter; I mean they'd have to to keep from getting depressed.
So I researched it. Drugs and alcohol are a huge problem in Alaska, particularly during the winter. Almost every remote county of Alaska is a dry county with strict laws on contraband. This causes a massive outbreak of organized crime smuggling vices into these remote villages. Due to the drugs and alcohol having to be airlifted into the remote corners of the state, the street cost runs extremely high. Drug and alcohol users blow entire paychecks on substance abuse, which brings their family into poverty. The stress of poverty fuels many drunk rages leading to frequent domestic and child abuse. The family's can't escape drunken fathers, as there is no where else to go--their village could be hundreds of miles of tundra away from the nearest neighboring village. The distress of broken families, domestic violence, and alcoholic and drug-addict fathers leads to teen suicide. Alaska has the highest rate of teen suicide, with some villages as high as 50%. Yeah. 50%. Some torn families will lose even two or three children to suicide. The impoverish families are so poor and isolated they can do nothing with the bodies of their perished sons and daughters, so typical (to relieve the family of burdens) teens will commit suicide by running away from home--into the tundra where they know their chance of survival is Zero.
Yeah I set that up to kinda make you feel like shit didn't I? That was the point. Next time you go pop bottles and get blackout drunk with 200 people you don't know, remember there are some places where alcohol isn't fun anymore. You likely won't drive your children to suicide if you have a drink now and then, moderation is key. Alcohol is less important than just about everything, including wings.
I wake up at like 2:00 in the afternoon. I roll out of bed, take a shower, eat, brush my teeth, all that shit. Then I kill some intense studying for like three straight hours. I mean I'm talking motivated studying where I just go geek-mode until I get every single thing right like I've known it all year. After that I relax a little bit and do this blog, tis a solid way to get all the stress out of my head and while I write I sip down the coffee and get focused for the final I have in 3 hours. Then I kill a lite workout and have a little something to eat to further reduce the stress. Then it's fucking show time. I listen to some motivational crap on youtube and get ready to take that test like fuck yeah. Once the test is over, it's a huge-ass relief and I can enjoy the rest of the evening doing whatever I wanna do. Since I had two cups of coffee at like 6pm I typically can't sleep until a solid 3 in the morning, and that's fine by me. So I fall asleep, wake up, wash rinse repeat until finals are over.
There's a bigass "8" illuminating my window drawn out of Christmas lights. That is a little idea I had last night to represent my floor for the rest of campus. I don't know how noticeable it is, or if anyone will understand what it means. But for everyone on my floor that means OCHO BITCH.
So there's a sign on my door that says "Kirwan tower, other insignificant dorms, and Wildcat Lodge will not be closing over winter break." Now that's cool and all, but that makes me wonder what Wildcat Lodge is. That must be the chillest, broest, most amazing dorm on campus. I mean it's called Wildcat Lodge! What do you think of when you hear the words "Wildcat Lodge?". I imagine you walk in and it's like Albion Base Camp at Alta, like there's wood floors, wood walls, wood furniture, a wooden spiral staircase that leads to a wooden loft looking over the wooden lobby. I bet the temperature throughout the Lodge is like only 60 degrees, but the warm fire makes it like 80 in certain parts of the room. I bet it's surrounded by redwoods and shit that keep the lodge shady in the summer but insulated in the winter. I bet every couple of months they have a Wildcat Lodge social and invite everyone to enjoy free food and cocktails while someone plays Canon on the piano.
Yes, if I lived in the Wildcat Lodge I would NEVER leave. On Saturdays and Sundays I would go down the spiral wooden staircase to the lobby and sit by the fire with a cup of coffee and watch the snowfall until noon. Then I would pull out a good book and read until the light of the fire was the only light left. Only then I would grab my coat and gloves and head out to the party. That would be the life, but I'm definitely not complaining about Kirwan Tower.
Ok here's a question I've been pondering for a few weeks now. So we only party at night right? And that is because dark=sexy. So if in Alaska in the winter it's perpetually dark and night, does that mean they party at ANY hour of the day/night? If I lived in Alaska, I would throw a fucking party at 3 in the afternoon! And it would be the livest shit in the county. I mean could you imagine stumbling back home and it only being 10pm? Then you could get a good night sleep and effectively sleep through your hangover. I bet they party a lot in Alaska during the winter; I mean they'd have to to keep from getting depressed.
So I researched it. Drugs and alcohol are a huge problem in Alaska, particularly during the winter. Almost every remote county of Alaska is a dry county with strict laws on contraband. This causes a massive outbreak of organized crime smuggling vices into these remote villages. Due to the drugs and alcohol having to be airlifted into the remote corners of the state, the street cost runs extremely high. Drug and alcohol users blow entire paychecks on substance abuse, which brings their family into poverty. The stress of poverty fuels many drunk rages leading to frequent domestic and child abuse. The family's can't escape drunken fathers, as there is no where else to go--their village could be hundreds of miles of tundra away from the nearest neighboring village. The distress of broken families, domestic violence, and alcoholic and drug-addict fathers leads to teen suicide. Alaska has the highest rate of teen suicide, with some villages as high as 50%. Yeah. 50%. Some torn families will lose even two or three children to suicide. The impoverish families are so poor and isolated they can do nothing with the bodies of their perished sons and daughters, so typical (to relieve the family of burdens) teens will commit suicide by running away from home--into the tundra where they know their chance of survival is Zero.
Yeah I set that up to kinda make you feel like shit didn't I? That was the point. Next time you go pop bottles and get blackout drunk with 200 people you don't know, remember there are some places where alcohol isn't fun anymore. You likely won't drive your children to suicide if you have a drink now and then, moderation is key. Alcohol is less important than just about everything, including wings.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Bro-Cabin-Sanctuary
Look at this, isn't this fucking awesome? http://media-cdn.pinterest.com/upload/49398927132338398_3mEnkruH_c.jpg
That little thing made my day. Karen sent it to me, how nice of her.
So I'm taking a study break. I've done about all I can for now. I'll do more later but I thought a blog and coffee break would do myself well. The coffee is rather thick and bold this afternoon compared to what I usually drink. It's the same Tribute, however I just made it a little different and I gotta say I like it. Fuck I just spilled it. Brb. Spilt coffee is fucking gay.
So my new best bro Tom Rupp has caused my perspective on my dorm in Kirwan Tower once again. I've compared my dorm to ships, to party caverns, to even a beach. Recently my bro Tom has been avoiding someone in his own dorm, and has been taking refuge with Alex and I in the K-tower. And because of this it's really created this "Bro-Cabin-Sanctuary" feeling. It's a place where my bros can just flock to and enjoy some good music, HD-Clear videogames, a listening ear, and perhaps a drink.
My bros can come here and stay as long as they like (as long as it's not past midnight Sunday-Thursday because I don't have 24/hr visitation) and enjoy themselves in my company. It's quite nice when the rest of my floor leaves for a party, but my bros and I elect to just stay in and screw around. It certainly fits the meaning of "sanctuary". A sanctuary is a place touched with sacredness while being immune from all that is tainted. In college I think this translates to NO BULLSHIT. Which is what my dorm room is.
The Christmas lights I have strung about my side of the room seem to hug you in a series of warm colors. The palm trees that surround you remind everyone that even if it's 35 degrees and raining outside, it's just as warm in this room as it is in Florida. It's just an ambient place for bros to chill and escape from all the bullshit. Girl problems? That bitch didn't get invited to #808. Stressed? Grab a Corona and play some Madden. Parents annoying the shit out of you? They don't live in Lexington and can't bitch at you right now.
That's why I like living here. It's hard to be stressed for very long in the environment I create here in #808. My dorm room really is a sanctuary for me and my bros. I just wish all my bros (Doug) could join me. Doug would enjoy my dorm room, and the time spent inside it.
That's enough bragging about my dorm room. But you gotta admit it's one of the best damn dorm rooms out there.
So I need a vacation. And not a real vacation either I go on real vacations all the time. No. I need a simple, mindless, relaxing vacation. I need a vacation like K-week. (K-week was a fucking vacation. K-week was the easily one of the best times of my life. But that's for a later blog post.) I need a few days of just nothing. Literally nothing.
Here me out on this, I have been thinking, analyzing, computing, reaffirming, checking, rechecking, executing, composing, critiquing, examining, THINKING for like 15 weeks straight like my life depended on it. And that's because my life does depend on it; if I don't think harder than I've ever thought before, then I won't become a successful pilot and my life will be meaningless to me. Thus, I have thought and thought and thought nonstop for like four months straight minus the few hours here and there when I got shitfaced. My excessive thinking has clearly shown on my grades: A, A, A, A, A, B, (W?). But It has also taken a toll on me; my stamina has a limit.
So now, I have THREE MORE DAYS. COUNT THEM. MONDAY. TUESDAY. WEDNESDAY. THREE DAYS of hardcore continual thinking so I can ace my finals. And then I can just stop thinking. Imagine that. For months straight you spend every single day thinking out these hard fucking problems for like 6-7 hours. Then Thursday comes and you don't have to think anymore. You could just stare at a wall and no one will give a fuck!
I'm anticipating it to be a great feeling. However most college students fuck this up by going home the second their finals are over. And this is just a stupid mistake. That is because you can no longer just stare at a wall without anyone caring, because Mom will certainly tell you to stop staring at a wall. So instead of going home, I'm staying at college for like three or four days so I can enjoy the perks of being away from home while not having to do SHIT.
There are two variables of this equation. There's responsibilities (studying, term papers) and there's supervision (parents, you have it in high school, not college). In a nutshell, I haven't lacked both supervision and responsibility since K-week! So why would I go home and return to having parents when I could stay on my own here in my blissful dorm room and not have any responsibilities? So the second my finals come to a quiet end on Wednesday, my vacation begins. And I'll be able to waste time and do whatever the fuck I want without the blandness of returning home and without having to worry about getting anything done.
Over the semester I've learned one really interesting aspect of life in general. Before college, I have adhered to the traditional belief that there are work days, and weekends. You work on work days, and you relax/party on weekends. But that's not true! I know I've blogged about this like ten times by now but I still can't get over it. The only difference between workdays and weekends is that you don't have to go to class/work on weekends. You can still have fun and party on week days, and you will sometimes have to work your ass off on weekends and not have any fun whatsoever. I really like this. It's an added freedom to my life to allow me to do what I want when I want. Due to high school scheduling, I was limited to only have significant fun on weekends. But now I do whatever the fuck I want, as long as I do what I need first. This falls right into place with what I was just saying about a vacation after finals, once finals are over, I have like a month-long weekend. Suck on that high schoolers.
Well I'm gonna go workout, then eat, then take a final. And then I will be finished with Chemistry for the rest of my life. Until next time....
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Coffee and a Story
What's up everybody? It's Tuesday and I'm procrastinating my homework and studying so I decided to sip down some coffee and blog a little bit. We got finals coming up, this semester is certainly coming to a close.
Coffee is a magical substance. It can calm you down while hurrying you up. It can warm you up on a cold day, and help your eyes flutter open on a summer morning. Coffee is the final reagent that makes for an excellent story. I encourage you to make a nice warm cup of coffee to enjoy while I talk about ski bums:) Then I'll talk about coffee more, how does that sound?
So much like last winter break, I'll be going skiing over the holidays. Skiing is a vacation for the soul, no one seems to realize that. You know why it's a vacation for the soul? Two words: Ski Bums. Ski bums are like the most chill people you will ever come into contact with, truth. All they want to do, is make enough money to survive, and ski. That's it! That's their life right there. It's more chill than any other lifestyle out there. Let's break it down and compare...
Pilot: schedules, delays, currencies, weather etc. All makes for a fun challenging vocation but it's only chill when you're really really good at it or when you have significant downtime.
Partier: drama, alcohol poisoning, getting laid. Yes being a professional partier is probably very fun, however I don't think it's that chill. There are too many things to worry about even while partying. Such as finding a party, or getting laid, or all the bitchy drama that revolves around partying.
Lifeguard: Ok this ones difficult. Upon first glance, being a lifeguard is pretty much the chillest shit ever, and I concur to an extent. Looking at the crisp blue shiny pool, catching your tan and sipping a cold glass of water (recovering from a hangover) while getting paid is simply too chill to give a fuck. The thing about being a lifeguard, is even though the kids are screaming and your boss is bitching...Ok stop. There's no way ski bums are more chill than lifeguards. Like I'm sorry but they're not. So I'm gonna go on about how chill lifeguards are instead.
Anyway, even though the kids are screaming and your boss is bitching, your only concern is a fucking pool. That's it. And when RadioDisney heard over the pool sound system starts playing Island in the Sun, you can't help but wonder if you're getting paid for this or not. It's as if your manager came up to you and said "Hey you're not getting paid for this anymore," would you go home or be like, "Actually, I'm quite comfortable, and my tan is looking pretty good. I think I'll stay."
As the summer progresses as a lifeguard, this chillness fades. Which sucks. Once you've lived the paradise job for a little too long, it's hard to not take it more seriously. After a while all you can think about is "Holy shit. If those kids don't stop fucking around, I'm kicking them out." And the paradise is tainted with worries. As consecutive weeks of nonstop lifeguarding start piling up, the worries pile up as well. The carefree RadioDisney music starts sounding like screamo bands and THOSE FUCKING KIDS WON'T STOP RUNNING. That's when you realize that $9.00/hr is not even almost reasonable for the bullshit you have to put up with 7 hours a day.
Then the summer begins to draw to a close. August rolls around and the kids are back in school. The pool slowly empties out and shifts slowly develop into their initial chillness. Things are so slow, with so few swimmers, that you actually get more breaks than time out lifeguarding. I remember laying down on a pool chair on my last day of work. It was 75 degrees outside, not a cloud in sight. We literally had more lifeguards on duty than we had patrons in the pool yielding me a 45 minute break. RadioDisney played the song "Closing Time" and that was when I realized I really can't complain about being a lifeguard, and in fact those times times I didn't think 9/hr was enough I should probably just relax a bit more.
If I work again as a lifeguard this summer, which I certainly will unless I'm shipped off to Kenya, I should probably reread this, and remember how easy and relaxing of a job it really is. And being able to party every night, and then show up at 2:00pm entirely hungover is nothing short of a necessary ingredient for a perfect summer lifestyle.
Now back to coffee. I hope you enjoyed that little anecdote about lifeguarding and ski bums.
Every night I can't sleep, I think. It gives me hours upon hours of straight thinking time. Then usually I immortalize the idea on paper and share it with the millions of intellectual people who follow this blog. So that's what got me started on the infinite delightful aspects of coffee.
As you probably know, I'm a giant fan of coffee. I love the taste, the diversity, the variety, the warmth, the focus, the energy, and the relaxation of it among a multitude of other things. Think about all the times coffee makes for an excellent drink choice.
On a cold morning, you have to wake up for a flight, or for work, or for whatever it doesn't matter. Even if it's in the summertime, your bones are chilled by the nippy morning air. It's a challenge to keep your eyes open as you zombie-walk through the kitchen to make that warm cup of coffee. You're warm. You're awake. IN ONE CUP. #Amazing
It's Friday night. 7:00pm. Classes are over, work's over, homework's done, whatever. Now you're at that limbo period between the summation of the weeks bullshit, and the beginning of the weekend's gratification. But you're a little sleepy and you're jut planning on relaxing to some Madden. Well it's too early for a beer, tobacco isn't practical, but you need some sort of kick to get you ready. Coffee. It'll get you a little hyped up without damaging or possibly sacrificing your night. It'll calm your mind while you enjoy your Madden. #Striking
You're on a four hour flight from Chicago to Los Angeles. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to sleep on the plane as you're have to adjust to the time change. You need a hearty morning beverage to compliment your breakfast at Great American Bagel Co. you just wolfed down. But what could that be? Coffee. There's no way around it. #Heavenly
And my personal favorite, is when you have like three hours to just murder. Let's say, for the sake of the discussion, that Spring Break started 6 hours ago, and you're leaving for Florida in 8 hours. You literally have nothing to do; already worked out, packed up, Xbox just won't do it for you, etc. That's when a visit to Starbucks is in order. Not many Americans know this, but Starbucks actually has a lounge and seating area for you to enjoy your coffee IN THE SHOP. Yeah, so instead of getting Starbucks and running out to your errands, you can actually sit in a comfortable couch, listen to the fusion jazz, and enjoy your coffee in a calming atmosphere. I can throw down in a Starbucks sipping like 10 cups of coffee for three hours. That time is killed... and enjoyed.
Well that blog post came and went. I should probably go get on that studying and chem homework. Shit's gotta get done. Until next time...
Coffee is a magical substance. It can calm you down while hurrying you up. It can warm you up on a cold day, and help your eyes flutter open on a summer morning. Coffee is the final reagent that makes for an excellent story. I encourage you to make a nice warm cup of coffee to enjoy while I talk about ski bums:) Then I'll talk about coffee more, how does that sound?
So much like last winter break, I'll be going skiing over the holidays. Skiing is a vacation for the soul, no one seems to realize that. You know why it's a vacation for the soul? Two words: Ski Bums. Ski bums are like the most chill people you will ever come into contact with, truth. All they want to do, is make enough money to survive, and ski. That's it! That's their life right there. It's more chill than any other lifestyle out there. Let's break it down and compare...
Pilot: schedules, delays, currencies, weather etc. All makes for a fun challenging vocation but it's only chill when you're really really good at it or when you have significant downtime.
Partier: drama, alcohol poisoning, getting laid. Yes being a professional partier is probably very fun, however I don't think it's that chill. There are too many things to worry about even while partying. Such as finding a party, or getting laid, or all the bitchy drama that revolves around partying.
Lifeguard: Ok this ones difficult. Upon first glance, being a lifeguard is pretty much the chillest shit ever, and I concur to an extent. Looking at the crisp blue shiny pool, catching your tan and sipping a cold glass of water (recovering from a hangover) while getting paid is simply too chill to give a fuck. The thing about being a lifeguard, is even though the kids are screaming and your boss is bitching...Ok stop. There's no way ski bums are more chill than lifeguards. Like I'm sorry but they're not. So I'm gonna go on about how chill lifeguards are instead.
Anyway, even though the kids are screaming and your boss is bitching, your only concern is a fucking pool. That's it. And when RadioDisney heard over the pool sound system starts playing Island in the Sun, you can't help but wonder if you're getting paid for this or not. It's as if your manager came up to you and said "Hey you're not getting paid for this anymore," would you go home or be like, "Actually, I'm quite comfortable, and my tan is looking pretty good. I think I'll stay."
As the summer progresses as a lifeguard, this chillness fades. Which sucks. Once you've lived the paradise job for a little too long, it's hard to not take it more seriously. After a while all you can think about is "Holy shit. If those kids don't stop fucking around, I'm kicking them out." And the paradise is tainted with worries. As consecutive weeks of nonstop lifeguarding start piling up, the worries pile up as well. The carefree RadioDisney music starts sounding like screamo bands and THOSE FUCKING KIDS WON'T STOP RUNNING. That's when you realize that $9.00/hr is not even almost reasonable for the bullshit you have to put up with 7 hours a day.
Then the summer begins to draw to a close. August rolls around and the kids are back in school. The pool slowly empties out and shifts slowly develop into their initial chillness. Things are so slow, with so few swimmers, that you actually get more breaks than time out lifeguarding. I remember laying down on a pool chair on my last day of work. It was 75 degrees outside, not a cloud in sight. We literally had more lifeguards on duty than we had patrons in the pool yielding me a 45 minute break. RadioDisney played the song "Closing Time" and that was when I realized I really can't complain about being a lifeguard, and in fact those times times I didn't think 9/hr was enough I should probably just relax a bit more.
If I work again as a lifeguard this summer, which I certainly will unless I'm shipped off to Kenya, I should probably reread this, and remember how easy and relaxing of a job it really is. And being able to party every night, and then show up at 2:00pm entirely hungover is nothing short of a necessary ingredient for a perfect summer lifestyle.
Now back to coffee. I hope you enjoyed that little anecdote about lifeguarding and ski bums.
Every night I can't sleep, I think. It gives me hours upon hours of straight thinking time. Then usually I immortalize the idea on paper and share it with the millions of intellectual people who follow this blog. So that's what got me started on the infinite delightful aspects of coffee.
As you probably know, I'm a giant fan of coffee. I love the taste, the diversity, the variety, the warmth, the focus, the energy, and the relaxation of it among a multitude of other things. Think about all the times coffee makes for an excellent drink choice.
On a cold morning, you have to wake up for a flight, or for work, or for whatever it doesn't matter. Even if it's in the summertime, your bones are chilled by the nippy morning air. It's a challenge to keep your eyes open as you zombie-walk through the kitchen to make that warm cup of coffee. You're warm. You're awake. IN ONE CUP. #Amazing
It's Friday night. 7:00pm. Classes are over, work's over, homework's done, whatever. Now you're at that limbo period between the summation of the weeks bullshit, and the beginning of the weekend's gratification. But you're a little sleepy and you're jut planning on relaxing to some Madden. Well it's too early for a beer, tobacco isn't practical, but you need some sort of kick to get you ready. Coffee. It'll get you a little hyped up without damaging or possibly sacrificing your night. It'll calm your mind while you enjoy your Madden. #Striking
You're on a four hour flight from Chicago to Los Angeles. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to sleep on the plane as you're have to adjust to the time change. You need a hearty morning beverage to compliment your breakfast at Great American Bagel Co. you just wolfed down. But what could that be? Coffee. There's no way around it. #Heavenly
And my personal favorite, is when you have like three hours to just murder. Let's say, for the sake of the discussion, that Spring Break started 6 hours ago, and you're leaving for Florida in 8 hours. You literally have nothing to do; already worked out, packed up, Xbox just won't do it for you, etc. That's when a visit to Starbucks is in order. Not many Americans know this, but Starbucks actually has a lounge and seating area for you to enjoy your coffee IN THE SHOP. Yeah, so instead of getting Starbucks and running out to your errands, you can actually sit in a comfortable couch, listen to the fusion jazz, and enjoy your coffee in a calming atmosphere. I can throw down in a Starbucks sipping like 10 cups of coffee for three hours. That time is killed... and enjoyed.
Well that blog post came and went. I should probably go get on that studying and chem homework. Shit's gotta get done. Until next time...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
I mention YuGiOh in this post...do read on
How's it going everybody. I decided to wrap up the day and evening with a little post before going to bed. It's once again Thirstday, but I'm refraining from drinking like a good boy. There's puke in the bathroom. Yes, already. Just a part of life on this floor.
I suppose it's kinda nice living here. The reputation makes it for an interesting mix. People who don't live here, according to elevator conversations, wonder what it's like for us. The fact that other people wonder about life on this floor makes it at least kinda fun. However it's like being stuck in paradise. If you wanna party, don't leave. But if you don't wanna party, you're stuck. It's like living in Miami but hating hot weather. You just kinda have to deal with it and be happy for the good aspects of your home.
On a broader scale, it's quite neat going to the #1 basketball school in the nation. I didn't know this before but Rupp Arena is the largest arena in North America, including NBA arena's. Yeah that's fucking nuts. And the guys I see in the student center all the time are the same guys I see in the ESPN Top Ten highlights. In addition, I'm getting tickets to the UK/Louisville game and now that Louisville's actually pretty good, this may be one of the biggest games in a while. So I'll be looking forward to that.
Good God do I love happy music. It allows people to enjoy life more. Good shit right there good shit. It reminds me of the Shacklette's residence like five years ago. Those were some happy times. For those of you who don't know, Alex Shacklette was my best friend for quite a few years. He brought out the purely innocent side of me. He had two brothers, and a cul-de-sac full of kids our age. His parents quickly learned how to entertain young guests without relying on videogames, and over time made my life a little less superficial.
Raising children must've been difficult in the digital revolution. I imagine it would've been hard keeping us from constantly playing videogames, but the Shacklette parents pulled it off. For example, they would throw an old mattress over an old couch in the basement. The mattress buckled at the spine of the couch and turned into a massive toy for eleven-year-olds to go nuts on. I remember spending so many nights sleeping on that mattress, it wasn't even level! I struggled all night balancing on the damn thing but I didn't care. However once we grew older, it took more than old furniture to play on to keep us from obsessing over irrelevant videogames.
A way that innocence was procured without us noticing is how the Shacklette residence overstated and changed the definition of vices. As a freshman, sophomore, and even junior in high school, I could have easily joined my classmates in smoking weed and getting an early start on drinking. Instead I spent summer days in the Shacklette household. Cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol were the last thing on our mind. The first thing on our mind was Screen Time.
Looking back, the Shacklette Screen Time Policy (or SSTP) was a little imprisoning to us. Screen time was defined as the daily duration spent interacting with a screen. Screen time was a currency in the household, even for their most valued guests. Each child received a balance of two hours of screen time each day, which could be spent however you wish. Watching television, playing videogames, browsing the internet were all things that drained our balance of screen time.
When we were in our younger years (5th grade, etc.), we all blew a cool 30 minutes of screen time immediately after school by watching Yu-Gi-Oh. After that it was a pretty solid distribution of activities between Super Smash Bros. and Pokemon.
As we got older, approaching those crucial high school years when teenagers typically make it or break it, I learned to never turn the TV on when in the Shacklette residence. The longer the TV is on, the less time we had to play World of Warcraft. Yes, soon enough the time came when visit's to the Shacklette's consisted of playing World of Warcraft straight through until our two hours were up. Our time management was impeccable. Once the two hours were up, it was research time. A small exception in the screen time policy was that if there was heavy reading, thinking, or education involved the time was excused. A way Alex and I used that loophole to our advantage was by reading and researching and planning and simply thinking about World of Warcraft. We discussed strategies, crunched percentages and collaborated with other neighborhood kids to find the best vector to success in our virtual world. We'd do this about three times longer than actually playing the game (or using any other screens). Then, the next day we had another two hours where we'd put our hours of planning into orbit.
It may seem counterintuitive but this actually added to the fun of visiting the Shacklette's. When the biggest thing you have to worry about is how much time you have left to play World of Warcraft, you realize how you don't actually have any real problems. Then when your time is up, you have nothing but time to kill, and you just slow down and relax. When I ate dinner at the Shacklette's it was a slow and relaxing family event. Normally, when there are friends over and dinner is ready, you pause your videogame, woof down a quick hot dog, and resume playing for another twelve hours. When all screens are already off-limits, you are able to enjoy little time-wasters like "family dinner".
After practically growing up with the Shacklette's during weekends I was highly accustomed to the lifestyle. One thing I realize looking back, is that smoking, getting high or drunk etc. were the last things on our minds. While half of the high school is struggling to be with the cool crowd, all that Alex and I wanted to do was get our two hours of screens in. And when we hit the age where we couldn't help but to break the rules, we did. Believe it or not, almost once or twice a week, Alex and I would wake up at 5am, sneak downstairs, and steal an illicit two hours of extra screen time. When the parents came downstairs at 7:30, we simply told them we had just woken up.Once the parents left for work we would go back to sleep for a few hours, wake up, and play more. We were some badasses back then. The funny thing is, as weird as it sounds, that (in addition to our common sense) kept us from doing crap like exploring the liquor cabinet, or getting into trouble in the neighborhood, or hurting each other.
Every Sunday and Tuesday were the longest days summer. Every Sunday and Tuesday were dubbed "No Screen Days", that was when the Shacklette parents unplugged every screen in the house. No screens, for the whole day. Sundays and Tuesdays were the days that massive stick-sword fights broke out in the neighborhood. All day would be spent doing something like making the biggest damn pirate ship out of Lego's and by dinner time have it ready to set sail in the bathtub.
Most friends would simply not go to Alex's house on Sundays and Tuesdays. But as close as me and Alex were, it was difficult to let my best friend suffer like that alone. My thought process was usually something like "Oh it's a no screen day, I bet Alex is bored." Furthermore, the most preferred way to get passed no screen days were to invite Alex to my house, yeah we didn't have the neighborhood of kids but at least we had entertainment.
Spending so many nights at the Shacklette's altered me over time. It could be the reason that even today I have the urge to put down the controller or laptop, and just enjoy myself without screens. Even while writing this, I could be playing Madden instead. On average 97% of children spend at least 13 hours a week on videogames, and average 7.5 hours PER DAY on "screens". In retrospect, I didn't die being stuck in the Shacklette's house with no entertainment, and I also never left to go play videogames by my lonesome at home.
Maybe if we did this as adults (I'm 18 now I count as an adult) we'd enjoy life a little bit more. Instead of obsessing over screens we could obsess over just living. Why don't we turn off phones for dinner? And after our favorite show is over why don't we turn off the TV and find something else to grasp our mind? Over the course of writing this memoir I realized how enjoyable my time at the Shacklette's was. I obviously can't go back to those carefree summers of my life, but I can learn from it and simply slow myself down, shut down my phone, close my laptop, and find something else to do.
I suppose it's kinda nice living here. The reputation makes it for an interesting mix. People who don't live here, according to elevator conversations, wonder what it's like for us. The fact that other people wonder about life on this floor makes it at least kinda fun. However it's like being stuck in paradise. If you wanna party, don't leave. But if you don't wanna party, you're stuck. It's like living in Miami but hating hot weather. You just kinda have to deal with it and be happy for the good aspects of your home.
On a broader scale, it's quite neat going to the #1 basketball school in the nation. I didn't know this before but Rupp Arena is the largest arena in North America, including NBA arena's. Yeah that's fucking nuts. And the guys I see in the student center all the time are the same guys I see in the ESPN Top Ten highlights. In addition, I'm getting tickets to the UK/Louisville game and now that Louisville's actually pretty good, this may be one of the biggest games in a while. So I'll be looking forward to that.
Good God do I love happy music. It allows people to enjoy life more. Good shit right there good shit. It reminds me of the Shacklette's residence like five years ago. Those were some happy times. For those of you who don't know, Alex Shacklette was my best friend for quite a few years. He brought out the purely innocent side of me. He had two brothers, and a cul-de-sac full of kids our age. His parents quickly learned how to entertain young guests without relying on videogames, and over time made my life a little less superficial.
Raising children must've been difficult in the digital revolution. I imagine it would've been hard keeping us from constantly playing videogames, but the Shacklette parents pulled it off. For example, they would throw an old mattress over an old couch in the basement. The mattress buckled at the spine of the couch and turned into a massive toy for eleven-year-olds to go nuts on. I remember spending so many nights sleeping on that mattress, it wasn't even level! I struggled all night balancing on the damn thing but I didn't care. However once we grew older, it took more than old furniture to play on to keep us from obsessing over irrelevant videogames.
A way that innocence was procured without us noticing is how the Shacklette residence overstated and changed the definition of vices. As a freshman, sophomore, and even junior in high school, I could have easily joined my classmates in smoking weed and getting an early start on drinking. Instead I spent summer days in the Shacklette household. Cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol were the last thing on our mind. The first thing on our mind was Screen Time.
Looking back, the Shacklette Screen Time Policy (or SSTP) was a little imprisoning to us. Screen time was defined as the daily duration spent interacting with a screen. Screen time was a currency in the household, even for their most valued guests. Each child received a balance of two hours of screen time each day, which could be spent however you wish. Watching television, playing videogames, browsing the internet were all things that drained our balance of screen time.
When we were in our younger years (5th grade, etc.), we all blew a cool 30 minutes of screen time immediately after school by watching Yu-Gi-Oh. After that it was a pretty solid distribution of activities between Super Smash Bros. and Pokemon.
As we got older, approaching those crucial high school years when teenagers typically make it or break it, I learned to never turn the TV on when in the Shacklette residence. The longer the TV is on, the less time we had to play World of Warcraft. Yes, soon enough the time came when visit's to the Shacklette's consisted of playing World of Warcraft straight through until our two hours were up. Our time management was impeccable. Once the two hours were up, it was research time. A small exception in the screen time policy was that if there was heavy reading, thinking, or education involved the time was excused. A way Alex and I used that loophole to our advantage was by reading and researching and planning and simply thinking about World of Warcraft. We discussed strategies, crunched percentages and collaborated with other neighborhood kids to find the best vector to success in our virtual world. We'd do this about three times longer than actually playing the game (or using any other screens). Then, the next day we had another two hours where we'd put our hours of planning into orbit.
It may seem counterintuitive but this actually added to the fun of visiting the Shacklette's. When the biggest thing you have to worry about is how much time you have left to play World of Warcraft, you realize how you don't actually have any real problems. Then when your time is up, you have nothing but time to kill, and you just slow down and relax. When I ate dinner at the Shacklette's it was a slow and relaxing family event. Normally, when there are friends over and dinner is ready, you pause your videogame, woof down a quick hot dog, and resume playing for another twelve hours. When all screens are already off-limits, you are able to enjoy little time-wasters like "family dinner".
After practically growing up with the Shacklette's during weekends I was highly accustomed to the lifestyle. One thing I realize looking back, is that smoking, getting high or drunk etc. were the last things on our minds. While half of the high school is struggling to be with the cool crowd, all that Alex and I wanted to do was get our two hours of screens in. And when we hit the age where we couldn't help but to break the rules, we did. Believe it or not, almost once or twice a week, Alex and I would wake up at 5am, sneak downstairs, and steal an illicit two hours of extra screen time. When the parents came downstairs at 7:30, we simply told them we had just woken up.Once the parents left for work we would go back to sleep for a few hours, wake up, and play more. We were some badasses back then. The funny thing is, as weird as it sounds, that (in addition to our common sense) kept us from doing crap like exploring the liquor cabinet, or getting into trouble in the neighborhood, or hurting each other.
Every Sunday and Tuesday were the longest days summer. Every Sunday and Tuesday were dubbed "No Screen Days", that was when the Shacklette parents unplugged every screen in the house. No screens, for the whole day. Sundays and Tuesdays were the days that massive stick-sword fights broke out in the neighborhood. All day would be spent doing something like making the biggest damn pirate ship out of Lego's and by dinner time have it ready to set sail in the bathtub.
Most friends would simply not go to Alex's house on Sundays and Tuesdays. But as close as me and Alex were, it was difficult to let my best friend suffer like that alone. My thought process was usually something like "Oh it's a no screen day, I bet Alex is bored." Furthermore, the most preferred way to get passed no screen days were to invite Alex to my house, yeah we didn't have the neighborhood of kids but at least we had entertainment.
Spending so many nights at the Shacklette's altered me over time. It could be the reason that even today I have the urge to put down the controller or laptop, and just enjoy myself without screens. Even while writing this, I could be playing Madden instead. On average 97% of children spend at least 13 hours a week on videogames, and average 7.5 hours PER DAY on "screens". In retrospect, I didn't die being stuck in the Shacklette's house with no entertainment, and I also never left to go play videogames by my lonesome at home.
Maybe if we did this as adults (I'm 18 now I count as an adult) we'd enjoy life a little bit more. Instead of obsessing over screens we could obsess over just living. Why don't we turn off phones for dinner? And after our favorite show is over why don't we turn off the TV and find something else to grasp our mind? Over the course of writing this memoir I realized how enjoyable my time at the Shacklette's was. I obviously can't go back to those carefree summers of my life, but I can learn from it and simply slow myself down, shut down my phone, close my laptop, and find something else to do.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
I'm still wasting time
It's blog time. Don't even care if it's Tuesday. So I believe one of my more recent blog posts I was bitching about this stupid presentation I have to do? Yeah well I'm still fucking working on it. However I have found that while working on projects, if you take a few short 15 minute breaks to blog it makes it a bit less stressful. So strap in cuz here we go.
I had a fantastic Thanksgiving Break. I conveniently caught pinkeye on Saturday, allowing me to get a false start on my break due to class excuses for Monday. With the family, I was finally allowed to drink (alcoholically) anything I wanted now that I'm in college. Needless to say it's about damn time! Honestly though, I was surprised. I never realized how much my family drinks until I started drinking mimosas with them at 11am.
Now that it's getting colder and colder outside I'm slowly becoming more and more desperate for a paradise island getaway. This is when the posters all over my room of palm trees and Gandhi and shit become comforting. And then I can just crank up the heat in here and put on some reggae and be alright. And when it gets drastically cold, with snow and all that garbage, it'll be time to get rum and throw a bunch into a tropical kick which will melt in my hand. It'll be the Walmart brand of Margaritaville.
In other news, it is officially time to start thinking about Spring Break! Which, of course, is my favorite! We got good shit lined up this time. Tom and I are Spring Breaking it together this years and we have three class-act options lined up for us. Charleston, Conch House in Daytona, or Fort Meyers. Yes, Spring Break planning is a joyous time of year. That may be why Christmas is so cheerful, who knows.
15 minutes is up, time to work more on this project.
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God this thing fucking sucks. Ok, 15 minutes starts NOW.
So I was watching a TV show, I forgot which one, and for whatever reason someone got abandoned or something and the protagonist was like "I'll never forget you...". So I was all nostalgic and saddened by the fact I was no longer on vacation and it for some reason got me thinking about all the things and people I will never see again, yet never forget. These are all things that aren't necessarily immortalized by writing (blogging) or by home videos, but immortalized by the impact it he or she left on you. Food for thought...
Ok I guess I'll get back to work, I'm still wasting time.
I had a fantastic Thanksgiving Break. I conveniently caught pinkeye on Saturday, allowing me to get a false start on my break due to class excuses for Monday. With the family, I was finally allowed to drink (alcoholically) anything I wanted now that I'm in college. Needless to say it's about damn time! Honestly though, I was surprised. I never realized how much my family drinks until I started drinking mimosas with them at 11am.
Now that it's getting colder and colder outside I'm slowly becoming more and more desperate for a paradise island getaway. This is when the posters all over my room of palm trees and Gandhi and shit become comforting. And then I can just crank up the heat in here and put on some reggae and be alright. And when it gets drastically cold, with snow and all that garbage, it'll be time to get rum and throw a bunch into a tropical kick which will melt in my hand. It'll be the Walmart brand of Margaritaville.
In other news, it is officially time to start thinking about Spring Break! Which, of course, is my favorite! We got good shit lined up this time. Tom and I are Spring Breaking it together this years and we have three class-act options lined up for us. Charleston, Conch House in Daytona, or Fort Meyers. Yes, Spring Break planning is a joyous time of year. That may be why Christmas is so cheerful, who knows.
15 minutes is up, time to work more on this project.
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God this thing fucking sucks. Ok, 15 minutes starts NOW.
So I was watching a TV show, I forgot which one, and for whatever reason someone got abandoned or something and the protagonist was like "I'll never forget you...". So I was all nostalgic and saddened by the fact I was no longer on vacation and it for some reason got me thinking about all the things and people I will never see again, yet never forget. These are all things that aren't necessarily immortalized by writing (blogging) or by home videos, but immortalized by the impact it he or she left on you. Food for thought...
Ok I guess I'll get back to work, I'm still wasting time.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
I'm pissed.
Fuck this. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck this. Sorry I'm pissed. Ok so I'm pretty goddamned pissed. Like this little blog post I got going on is in between sets of trash I've been working on. So why am I so pissed.
It is Thursday night. Namely it is the Thursday night before Thanksgiving Break. And per floor ocho tradition, everyone gets way too much alcohol on the weekend before T-break. So much that we actually have to try to drink it all before T-break because we don't want our fridges stocked with liquor for a week. So I still have like over a fifth. Just waiting to be pounded. And don't think I haven't been chipping away at this stash of alcohol either, no I've been working on it Monday night, Wednesday night, and all last weekend. And I'm supposed to be drinking it now. But no. I'm not.
Instead, I'm sick. Of course it's my fault that I'm sick. Namely because of poor choices made on Monday, which were extended due to poor choices on Wednesday. Apparently getting shitfaced doesn't boost your immune system very much. So that's me right now, I feel like shit. And all I've wanted to do all day is sleep. But I had to do all my Air Force commitments. So after my Air Force crap was done, all I could think about is crawling into bed and having a good night's rest. But no. I'm not.
Instead, I have a fucking Ignite Presentation to do. Do you know what an Ignite Presentation is? No! Of course you don't. That's because it's the most ridiculous, counterproductive, bullshit method of exhibiting information. In case you don't know what it is, Ignite is where instead of doing the conventional "choose when your slide changes" technique of a briefing or presentation, you only have 20 seconds per slide and it switches slides once that 20 seconds is reached. Regardless of if you need to stop and embellish something, or if you want to make an additional note. No, fuck that this is retarded. Due to the airheads at the board of the UK english department (which doesn't even deserve proper capitalization) I have to do an Ignite Presentation. They act like I'm ever going to do one again in my life. Like in Corporate America they're doing fucking "ignite" presentations to the CFO's.
So that's the reason I'm pissed. The only two fucking things I wanna do right now are replaced with an ignite speech. I'm sorry. But that's trash. Ok brb, I'm gonna do a little bit more work on it so I can go to bed.
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Ok now that I'm kinda getting into this thing it's actually kinda interesting. It's more of an art form than a presentation, which still makes it stupid why we have to make one for a college composition class, but at least it's tolerable to some degree.
So yeah here's something that's been bugging me. At the beginning of this semester, even dating back to the conclusion of high school, I made an unwritten set of rules for myself for success. I never did write them down, I actually had kinda planned to make a poster or some shit out of them in order to keep me focused, but I never did. From what I can remember the rules went something like this:
Well I'm gonna work a little bit more on this project. Writing that last section kinda made me stop bitching. While I'm working, please entertain yourself with these inspirational videos: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6s75D6WIDug; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvtxOzO6OAE&feature=related;
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It is Thursday night. Namely it is the Thursday night before Thanksgiving Break. And per floor ocho tradition, everyone gets way too much alcohol on the weekend before T-break. So much that we actually have to try to drink it all before T-break because we don't want our fridges stocked with liquor for a week. So I still have like over a fifth. Just waiting to be pounded. And don't think I haven't been chipping away at this stash of alcohol either, no I've been working on it Monday night, Wednesday night, and all last weekend. And I'm supposed to be drinking it now. But no. I'm not.
Instead, I'm sick. Of course it's my fault that I'm sick. Namely because of poor choices made on Monday, which were extended due to poor choices on Wednesday. Apparently getting shitfaced doesn't boost your immune system very much. So that's me right now, I feel like shit. And all I've wanted to do all day is sleep. But I had to do all my Air Force commitments. So after my Air Force crap was done, all I could think about is crawling into bed and having a good night's rest. But no. I'm not.
Instead, I have a fucking Ignite Presentation to do. Do you know what an Ignite Presentation is? No! Of course you don't. That's because it's the most ridiculous, counterproductive, bullshit method of exhibiting information. In case you don't know what it is, Ignite is where instead of doing the conventional "choose when your slide changes" technique of a briefing or presentation, you only have 20 seconds per slide and it switches slides once that 20 seconds is reached. Regardless of if you need to stop and embellish something, or if you want to make an additional note. No, fuck that this is retarded. Due to the airheads at the board of the UK english department (which doesn't even deserve proper capitalization) I have to do an Ignite Presentation. They act like I'm ever going to do one again in my life. Like in Corporate America they're doing fucking "ignite" presentations to the CFO's.
So that's the reason I'm pissed. The only two fucking things I wanna do right now are replaced with an ignite speech. I'm sorry. But that's trash. Ok brb, I'm gonna do a little bit more work on it so I can go to bed.
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Ok now that I'm kinda getting into this thing it's actually kinda interesting. It's more of an art form than a presentation, which still makes it stupid why we have to make one for a college composition class, but at least it's tolerable to some degree.
So yeah here's something that's been bugging me. At the beginning of this semester, even dating back to the conclusion of high school, I made an unwritten set of rules for myself for success. I never did write them down, I actually had kinda planned to make a poster or some shit out of them in order to keep me focused, but I never did. From what I can remember the rules went something like this:
- Only party on Friday's and Saturdays.
- Never drink in the dorm room.
- Never skip class, no excuses.
Well I'm gonna work a little bit more on this project. Writing that last section kinda made me stop bitching. While I'm working, please entertain yourself with these inspirational videos: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6s75D6WIDug; http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DvtxOzO6OAE&feature=related;
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And I’m back. Yeah I totally half assed that. I was kind of getting into it in the middle there. But then it got to a point where I just did not give a fuck big enough to continue.
So the other night, while slightly intoxicated, I had a nice thought. Before I continue, you need to understand my comparison of Kirwan Tower to a ship. Hear me out. The bathrooms are small and cramped; so much so to the point where you have to do that move where you squish yourself together to maneuver sometimes. And the rooms are small. Storage becomes an art; everything has a place where it is out of the way. Where else are there such cramped conditions? A ship.
The elevators in Kirwan Tower are a fantastic tool to a single guy. I’m not even single and I still enjoy simply meeting the abundant amounts of people my age, girls included. At least once a day, I step into an elevator literally filled with girls. Zero guys, just like six or seven girls. And as often as I can, I make some comment just out of nowhere that makes everyone laugh. So where else do you have elevators chocked full with attractive teenage girls? A cruise ship.
Still not convinced Kirwan Tower is actually a nautical vessel? Well strap in for this stunning similarity! Of course while living here, I possess the ability to come and go as I please, whenever. However upon having guests checked into The Ocho, this changes. Once you check someone in, you have to check them out. Which is a pain in the ass. So it creates the illusion that you can’t come and go. When you’re with your buddies in Kirwan Tower, just relax there for a while. Where else is it difficult to come and go? A ship.
So this brings me back to the thought I had that night. Yeah, I was drinking, which probably helped bring this up. There was also a storm set to hit that night. There’s something amazing about being drunk during a storm. It’s like the receptors in your brain are tricked out of sensing any danger and all you feel is comfort by the loud noises and lights.
But GAMECHANGER there’s another great place to be while drunk. And as you probably could’ve guessed that place is a ship! The beauty of the ocean, the majestic wind, the gentle sways; all blurred by the partying you’ve been doing ON THE SHIP!
Which leads me to the culmination of this whole damn thing. What if, and this is a stretch, you were drunk on a boat in a thunderstorm. I just imagine that to be the most fun conditions in which to throw down. That party would be off the hook. Thunderstorming outside, raining tequila inside. Hell yeah. Fucking right.
Recently I've been striving for the best dorm room possible. Jamal and I actually already have the best dorm room on the floor; with two TV's, Xbox, PS3, and a bopping sound system, we really have outdone ourselves. It's typically the "go-to" room when the floor is in the mood to party. Both videogames go on, as does the music. However, there is something that would actually remove our room from Kirwan Tower because it's physically just too awesome. It's two words that would revolutionize my Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Dance floor. I'll say it again. Dance floor. And it wouldn't be hard at all. Let me explain.
In my hefty amounts of parties I've attended, I've been observing ways to produce similar upshots. One thing I've noticed is there are a few things necessary for a kick-ass dance floor to break out. Obviously you need an even ratio of drunk girls to drunk guys. Next you need music, like music specifically made to make people dance. Finally, you need what appears to be the final reagent. A light show. Like all the lights off, except some party lights that move and make everyone look 15 times sexier.
So guess what I'm gonna buy.
I'm gonna buy that. And it's gonna be STUPID-ILL. Coming soon...
Anyway I'm going to bed. Thanksgiving break coming up. Something to look forward to. Until next time...
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Focus Shift
What's up everyone. It's Thursday night again. Chem test went smoothly. Hoping for the best. Now my focus takes a dramatic shift from work to play, as it always does around this time.
Prior attempts at acquiring the sacred substance locally known as "alcohol" have proven unsuccessful. There is $15.00 in my pocket waiting to be sacrificed for the greater good of the situation, due to the unfortunate fact that I haven't had the opportunity to swap it for liquid gold. This is a great hindrance to the complete aspect of leisure which tonight holds for me.
In common words: This is garbage. I studied my ass off for that exam, did all my work, and now I wanna get shitfaced. The convenient thing is, I'm in college living on what's known locally as "the party floor". Thus, I'll probably be set by the end of the night.
I apologize for the short post tonight. I guess you could say I'm just not feeling like bogging tonight. I apologize for everyone I let down. I'm off to play Xbox, until next time...
Prior attempts at acquiring the sacred substance locally known as "alcohol" have proven unsuccessful. There is $15.00 in my pocket waiting to be sacrificed for the greater good of the situation, due to the unfortunate fact that I haven't had the opportunity to swap it for liquid gold. This is a great hindrance to the complete aspect of leisure which tonight holds for me.
In common words: This is garbage. I studied my ass off for that exam, did all my work, and now I wanna get shitfaced. The convenient thing is, I'm in college living on what's known locally as "the party floor". Thus, I'll probably be set by the end of the night.
I apologize for the short post tonight. I guess you could say I'm just not feeling like bogging tonight. I apologize for everyone I let down. I'm off to play Xbox, until next time...
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Sailors Take Warning
What's up gang. I wanted to talk to you tonight about the balance of fun and pain. The thesis of tonight's discussion will be the well known statistic that for any fun, you must have pain. And as you read through this blog post I want you to be on the lookout for subliminal messaging. If you get it, you get it. If you don't, you don't. If you ask me, I won't tell you. So with that let's get started.
Everyone seems to say pretty much constantly that in order to have any sort of positive affliction, you must balance it with a similar negative affliction. This even goes back to physics, of which I'm a man of; we all know that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. If I push you, you push back. If I jump up, I fall down. If I get drunk, I get hungover. This is simply the dynamic of the universe at work. It can be called cause and effect, it can be called karma, it can be called Newton's third law of motion; regardless it's inherently true in all aspects of everything.
My focus however is the aspect of life, which is a trending topic of my more thought-provoking blog posts. I chose my words wisely in my thesis: Fun & Pain. Both terms are shortened and simplified from the deeper words: Pleasure & Misery. They're easy to define--little need for explanation. Pleasure is the counterclockwise motion in which our heads spin when we're delightfully happy over anything; regardless of it's insignificance, stupidity, or consequences. Misery is the clockwise motion in which our guts twist and yaw as we stress and emote whilst struggling and suffocated for more and more relieving pleasure.
There are two ways to approach the equation. Think of misery and pleasure to be two ticks on a number line. Misery is at -1 and pleasure is at 1. According to the universal and seemingly true rules of karma, you will always average with as much misery as pleasure, resulting in a numerical value on my rhetorical number line of 0. So you can approach 0 from either the left or right; or in literal terms you could have pleasure before misery, or misery before pleasure. Even a third possibility could be introduced, alternating misery and pleasure to maintain your sanity throughout your whole life.
If you don't follow, examples are everywhere. Short term examples are incredibly basic, study before partying? Or party then study hungover the next day? Well you're going to study and party either way, and experience both miserable rote memorization and exciting nightlife. The wisdom comes in the order. Zoom out. Drugs, drinking, and sex; consistent pleasure for 5 years from age 15-20. Only brought to a conclusion by an arrest, pregnancy, substance abuse, etc. And what will follow is misery, every time. In contrast, hard work throughout high school and college would easily result in years of pleasurable income and significance.
I've been living by the rules this postulate for months now. Painful studying followed by fun fun fun nights with my friends. Typically the pleasure of post-studying nightlife outweighs the misery of studying for hours prior, and naturally the leftovers accumulate in whatever form I deserve; hangovers, guilt, nostalgia, and sometimes fleeting depression.
But there are flaws in this theory. How does this apply to happy, lengthy, loving relationships? Think back to that one elderly couple that we all know, the ones who've been together since the 1920's and are STILL basking in the pleasure. My only conclusion is that they actually die before they can feel the misery that's been building up from a lifetime of straight pleasure. But that would mean that if a couple separates before death then they are delivered the anguish to balance the empirical equation of their life. And that scares me.
Red sky at night, sailor's delight; Red in the morning; sailors take warning. All I see red, I just hope my sun is setting. And hopefully when the night is over, the sun will pop back up above the wavy horizon and the sky will be blue. And if that happens you'll see me in Hawaii enjoying the beautiful day.
Everyone seems to say pretty much constantly that in order to have any sort of positive affliction, you must balance it with a similar negative affliction. This even goes back to physics, of which I'm a man of; we all know that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. If I push you, you push back. If I jump up, I fall down. If I get drunk, I get hungover. This is simply the dynamic of the universe at work. It can be called cause and effect, it can be called karma, it can be called Newton's third law of motion; regardless it's inherently true in all aspects of everything.
My focus however is the aspect of life, which is a trending topic of my more thought-provoking blog posts. I chose my words wisely in my thesis: Fun & Pain. Both terms are shortened and simplified from the deeper words: Pleasure & Misery. They're easy to define--little need for explanation. Pleasure is the counterclockwise motion in which our heads spin when we're delightfully happy over anything; regardless of it's insignificance, stupidity, or consequences. Misery is the clockwise motion in which our guts twist and yaw as we stress and emote whilst struggling and suffocated for more and more relieving pleasure.
There are two ways to approach the equation. Think of misery and pleasure to be two ticks on a number line. Misery is at -1 and pleasure is at 1. According to the universal and seemingly true rules of karma, you will always average with as much misery as pleasure, resulting in a numerical value on my rhetorical number line of 0. So you can approach 0 from either the left or right; or in literal terms you could have pleasure before misery, or misery before pleasure. Even a third possibility could be introduced, alternating misery and pleasure to maintain your sanity throughout your whole life.
If you don't follow, examples are everywhere. Short term examples are incredibly basic, study before partying? Or party then study hungover the next day? Well you're going to study and party either way, and experience both miserable rote memorization and exciting nightlife. The wisdom comes in the order. Zoom out. Drugs, drinking, and sex; consistent pleasure for 5 years from age 15-20. Only brought to a conclusion by an arrest, pregnancy, substance abuse, etc. And what will follow is misery, every time. In contrast, hard work throughout high school and college would easily result in years of pleasurable income and significance.
I've been living by the rules this postulate for months now. Painful studying followed by fun fun fun nights with my friends. Typically the pleasure of post-studying nightlife outweighs the misery of studying for hours prior, and naturally the leftovers accumulate in whatever form I deserve; hangovers, guilt, nostalgia, and sometimes fleeting depression.
But there are flaws in this theory. How does this apply to happy, lengthy, loving relationships? Think back to that one elderly couple that we all know, the ones who've been together since the 1920's and are STILL basking in the pleasure. My only conclusion is that they actually die before they can feel the misery that's been building up from a lifetime of straight pleasure. But that would mean that if a couple separates before death then they are delivered the anguish to balance the empirical equation of their life. And that scares me.
Red sky at night, sailor's delight; Red in the morning; sailors take warning. All I see red, I just hope my sun is setting. And hopefully when the night is over, the sun will pop back up above the wavy horizon and the sky will be blue. And if that happens you'll see me in Hawaii enjoying the beautiful day.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Quick blog I've decided. It's Wednesday night. Approx 9:08pm EDT. And uh I'm bout to drink.
This is what college is. Wake up. Go to class. Feel like you're gonna die but take notes anyway. Go to the dorm. Do hours upon hours of homework. So much homework you don't even wanna talk about it. Which I don't. Then. Nvm brb
This is what college is. Wake up. Go to class. Feel like you're gonna die but take notes anyway. Go to the dorm. Do hours upon hours of homework. So much homework you don't even wanna talk about it. Which I don't. Then. Nvm brb
Monday, October 31, 2011
Just fucking stupid
I'm sorry. It's Monday, and I have like seven goddamned homework assignments but I feel the pull to blog.
I know Mondays are especially hard, and the more fun your weekend is, the more difficult your Monday is. It almost makes you suicidal, for like 8 hours. I want you to imagine your best Spring Break vacation ever, the kind where you party, meet and drink with amazing people, and not worry for 9 days. Do you remember how you felt on the Monday you had to return to the real world? It's completely depressing! You just can't stop thinking, "that was so crazy ridiculously fun, all I wanna do is go back." I mean hell I remember just sitting in class looking through pictures of Spring Break thinking maybe I shouldn't have even gone on Spring Break to avoid the post-vacation depression. This is how my Mondays are every week!
Well I actually took the time to research it to provide evidence for my thesis (English teacher taught me well). Check out what I discovered on wikipedia, [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-vacation_blues]. According to this the feelings after a vacation are THE SAME/SIMILAR to those on a Monday or after a party! I fucking told you so!
So if you party all weekend, then when it's over you'll be experience both the "post-party" and "Monday blues" at the same time! Which of course fucking synergizes to create this garbage need to party. In conclusion, right now I feel like I can't do ANYTHING but party.
I mean don't get me wrong, Saturday night was the best party I've ever been to. They had this stupid dance floor with a stupid DJ with stupid fog machines and stupid strobe lights. And I got stupid drunk of course. I mean there was pretty much no aspect of Saturday night that made any semblance to intelligence.
So then you wake up on Sunday morning and just bask in your own memories, which are played back like a fucked up VHS tape due to your level of inebriation. A bigass grin falls on your face and you're formidably satisfied with you whole weekend. But then it hits you. It's over! You have to wait all the way to Friday to do it again! And guess what's between Sunday and Friday? A whole week of school! You have to work your ass off to earn your next weekend! Like what the hell how gay is that!?
And that my children, is why the average GPA of college students is low.
I know Mondays are especially hard, and the more fun your weekend is, the more difficult your Monday is. It almost makes you suicidal, for like 8 hours. I want you to imagine your best Spring Break vacation ever, the kind where you party, meet and drink with amazing people, and not worry for 9 days. Do you remember how you felt on the Monday you had to return to the real world? It's completely depressing! You just can't stop thinking, "that was so crazy ridiculously fun, all I wanna do is go back." I mean hell I remember just sitting in class looking through pictures of Spring Break thinking maybe I shouldn't have even gone on Spring Break to avoid the post-vacation depression. This is how my Mondays are every week!
Well I actually took the time to research it to provide evidence for my thesis (English teacher taught me well). Check out what I discovered on wikipedia, [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-vacation_blues]. According to this the feelings after a vacation are THE SAME/SIMILAR to those on a Monday or after a party! I fucking told you so!
So if you party all weekend, then when it's over you'll be experience both the "post-party" and "Monday blues" at the same time! Which of course fucking synergizes to create this garbage need to party. In conclusion, right now I feel like I can't do ANYTHING but party.
I mean don't get me wrong, Saturday night was the best party I've ever been to. They had this stupid dance floor with a stupid DJ with stupid fog machines and stupid strobe lights. And I got stupid drunk of course. I mean there was pretty much no aspect of Saturday night that made any semblance to intelligence.
So then you wake up on Sunday morning and just bask in your own memories, which are played back like a fucked up VHS tape due to your level of inebriation. A bigass grin falls on your face and you're formidably satisfied with you whole weekend. But then it hits you. It's over! You have to wait all the way to Friday to do it again! And guess what's between Sunday and Friday? A whole week of school! You have to work your ass off to earn your next weekend! Like what the hell how gay is that!?
And that my children, is why the average GPA of college students is low.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Totes got the invite
Alright. Fuck the chill tone. Fuck the kava right now. Fuck the vacation music. It is 9:45 on a Friday right now and uhhhh I'm going out in like a half hour. One second let me google the location of this party right quick.
Ok it's cool I got the loc. So this is in Air Force party I got invited to. Should be clutch. Ok. Tangent time.
I fucking love getting the invite to parties. Like it's one thing to throw a party, it's another thing to just like end up going to a party, and crashing a party is another way in. But no, like receiving a text or phone call or facebook message that specifically invites you to a party just warms my heart. That means that someone, somewhere, is having a party. And that certain someone (which could be extended down a few degrees of separation) thinks that the party would be more fun with YOU attending. That's basically a low key way of saying "You're fucking awesome, let's drink together. Tonight. At this address." And poof. I'm there.
So getting focused. I sent in my preliminary application for Kenya. Drinking Kenyan coffee on a Friday evening means more to me now. Knowing I might visit the heart of Africa in less than a year is messing with my mind. It's over-exciting me. However it's motivating me to do better in school so I can be competitive for the scholarship. Fingers crossed.
So earlier this week I kinda had that anti-partying attitude. I got over it. Like I said I'm going out tonight. And I believe it was like Monday or Tuesday when I decided that I'm not going to drink until Thanksgiving. Yet now back at the party going hard. I kinda feel like I can't stop partying. Weezer and Lil Wayne feel my pain.
I'm actually excited for Spring Break 12. It's coming up and I'm assuming if nothing else comes up, I'm going to Panama. I wanna recall last spring break for a little bit. Yeah that'd be nice.
So Spring Break 11 was actually the reason this blog was created. It was so I could continually write for 170 days until spring break arrived at my feet. It was a distraction so I could enjoy the little things in life (like hiking boots and "vedge time") until I partied nonstop for a week.
And soon enough spring break hit me up like a sober floozie tryna drink and I was off to the caribb. And as expected I partied for a week straight! It was fantastic! I was dancing and drinking and not puking and spring breaking like it was meant to be! I was drinking every other night!
Yes I was going pretty damn hard for a senior in high school. Swim up bars and shots on the beach and the list goes on. Taking shots until I couldn't think. Waking up being unable to eat anything heavy.
It's so funny to think about that shit now. In retrospect, if you compare it to college, it's highly unimpressive. Which means when my first spring break of college rolls around things might get interesting. Well I'm gonna go to this party. Until next time...
Ok it's cool I got the loc. So this is in Air Force party I got invited to. Should be clutch. Ok. Tangent time.
I fucking love getting the invite to parties. Like it's one thing to throw a party, it's another thing to just like end up going to a party, and crashing a party is another way in. But no, like receiving a text or phone call or facebook message that specifically invites you to a party just warms my heart. That means that someone, somewhere, is having a party. And that certain someone (which could be extended down a few degrees of separation) thinks that the party would be more fun with YOU attending. That's basically a low key way of saying "You're fucking awesome, let's drink together. Tonight. At this address." And poof. I'm there.
So getting focused. I sent in my preliminary application for Kenya. Drinking Kenyan coffee on a Friday evening means more to me now. Knowing I might visit the heart of Africa in less than a year is messing with my mind. It's over-exciting me. However it's motivating me to do better in school so I can be competitive for the scholarship. Fingers crossed.
So earlier this week I kinda had that anti-partying attitude. I got over it. Like I said I'm going out tonight. And I believe it was like Monday or Tuesday when I decided that I'm not going to drink until Thanksgiving. Yet now back at the party going hard. I kinda feel like I can't stop partying. Weezer and Lil Wayne feel my pain.
I'm actually excited for Spring Break 12. It's coming up and I'm assuming if nothing else comes up, I'm going to Panama. I wanna recall last spring break for a little bit. Yeah that'd be nice.
So Spring Break 11 was actually the reason this blog was created. It was so I could continually write for 170 days until spring break arrived at my feet. It was a distraction so I could enjoy the little things in life (like hiking boots and "vedge time") until I partied nonstop for a week.
And soon enough spring break hit me up like a sober floozie tryna drink and I was off to the caribb. And as expected I partied for a week straight! It was fantastic! I was dancing and drinking and not puking and spring breaking like it was meant to be! I was drinking every other night!
Yes I was going pretty damn hard for a senior in high school. Swim up bars and shots on the beach and the list goes on. Taking shots until I couldn't think. Waking up being unable to eat anything heavy.
It's so funny to think about that shit now. In retrospect, if you compare it to college, it's highly unimpressive. Which means when my first spring break of college rolls around things might get interesting. Well I'm gonna go to this party. Until next time...
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Situational Irony
What's up world. Chill music: check. Kava tea: check. Relaxed mindset: check. Thursday night checklist complete, welcome to my blog. It's been a chill week, after last weekend's 72-hour party I've kinda been thinking about everything but partying, hold my Wednesday morning post.
I want to start out by talking about when vacations end. As you probably know, I live for my vacations. And since they don't come around very often I'm forced to make the most out of vacations. During vacations people tend to dread the last few hours. E.g. at 4:00am on a cruise ship before it returns to Miami, you don't see a smile on many faces. However, you will likely see a smile on mine. Vacations don't end when you check out of the hotel. Contrary to popular belief, the vacation ends when you return home. This means that the drive, flight, or even walk home is to be enjoyed.
On a Sunday afternoon, if you walk through the Miami Airport you will see a lot of hungover and stressed out Debbie-downers who don't realize that the party ain't over yet. If I look back to the times I've traveled home from vacations, I recollect good memories. Yes, it was on the flight home from Los Angeles when I sipped Merlot to relaxing views of the interior of a 767. It was on the flight home from Miami when I was stranded at O'hare for 9 hours and actually had the time of my life. It was on the 24 hour drive home from Salt Lake City, Utah when I grabbed a mocha and some beef jerky and simply enjoyed the views of Wyoming in the back seat of a rental car. I couldn't imagine traveling home from a vacation spending the entire ride fretting the return to real life. Just relax, and assume yourself still on vacation for the next 2 hour until your flight returns to Louisville. Once your attitude changes, your stress seems to dissipate. You're fucking welcome.
One of my favorite aspects of this blog is the situational irony. My future self knows everything between the time of me writing this, and his point in life. That means whenever I blog about something anticipated or currently unknown, my future self will read it and know what ends up happening to me.
I might go to Kenya next summer. I might not. I might spend three months learning Swahili and exploring the African countryside. I literally do not know how long I've been craving to go to Africa. Looking back in journals I've written it's at least a year in a half. This is where situational irony greets me at the door and goes forth to piss me off. This is where due to separate possibilities, I actually acquire a second "future self".
The first "future self", let's call him Decker-1, actually gets accepted into the little James Madison study abroad program and also gets the full scholarship. Decker-1 is probably pretty damn happy if he's reading this in like April. He's probably thinking, "Wow this is the day in my life where I found out I might be going to Kenya, and here I am, going to Kenya." He's probably gonna kiss his girlfriend goodbye in a few weeks and ship off to Africa. Decker-1's got it fucking made. Decker-1 better read this in April or May, have some tea, and put on chill music. No, not chill music. Put on the song "Africa" by Toto, because that's what present-Decker would do. And he'd go for a walk. Actually no, fuck walks. He'd go for a run. And since it's warm outside because it's April he better go for a run shirtless. Decker-1's got it made doesn't he?
Unfortunately that leads us to the second "future self", Decker-2. Decker-2 doesn't end up going to Africa. This is where shit gets awkward. Decker-2 is gonna read this in April and smile and think that I (present-Decker) is a dumbass. He'll read all that crap a paragraph up about kissing his girlfriend goodbye, going for a run, all that nonsense and think, "yeah I'm still going to work at the Y, still gonna do my thing, whatever." Hell Decker-2 might even be going somewhere COOLER than Kenya. But long story short Decker-2 is probably not too thrilled reading this. Sorry Decker-2, I tried.
So whichever version of my future self is reading this, I hope you're going to Kenya. I have nothing else to discuss tonight. For some reason all I can think about is Kenya. I apply tomorrow. I really want to go. Either way, I'll go somewhere eventually. I mean I'm gonna be a pilot, I can't do my job unless I'm going somewhere. Until next time...
I want to start out by talking about when vacations end. As you probably know, I live for my vacations. And since they don't come around very often I'm forced to make the most out of vacations. During vacations people tend to dread the last few hours. E.g. at 4:00am on a cruise ship before it returns to Miami, you don't see a smile on many faces. However, you will likely see a smile on mine. Vacations don't end when you check out of the hotel. Contrary to popular belief, the vacation ends when you return home. This means that the drive, flight, or even walk home is to be enjoyed.
On a Sunday afternoon, if you walk through the Miami Airport you will see a lot of hungover and stressed out Debbie-downers who don't realize that the party ain't over yet. If I look back to the times I've traveled home from vacations, I recollect good memories. Yes, it was on the flight home from Los Angeles when I sipped Merlot to relaxing views of the interior of a 767. It was on the flight home from Miami when I was stranded at O'hare for 9 hours and actually had the time of my life. It was on the 24 hour drive home from Salt Lake City, Utah when I grabbed a mocha and some beef jerky and simply enjoyed the views of Wyoming in the back seat of a rental car. I couldn't imagine traveling home from a vacation spending the entire ride fretting the return to real life. Just relax, and assume yourself still on vacation for the next 2 hour until your flight returns to Louisville. Once your attitude changes, your stress seems to dissipate. You're fucking welcome.
One of my favorite aspects of this blog is the situational irony. My future self knows everything between the time of me writing this, and his point in life. That means whenever I blog about something anticipated or currently unknown, my future self will read it and know what ends up happening to me.
I might go to Kenya next summer. I might not. I might spend three months learning Swahili and exploring the African countryside. I literally do not know how long I've been craving to go to Africa. Looking back in journals I've written it's at least a year in a half. This is where situational irony greets me at the door and goes forth to piss me off. This is where due to separate possibilities, I actually acquire a second "future self".
The first "future self", let's call him Decker-1, actually gets accepted into the little James Madison study abroad program and also gets the full scholarship. Decker-1 is probably pretty damn happy if he's reading this in like April. He's probably thinking, "Wow this is the day in my life where I found out I might be going to Kenya, and here I am, going to Kenya." He's probably gonna kiss his girlfriend goodbye in a few weeks and ship off to Africa. Decker-1's got it fucking made. Decker-1 better read this in April or May, have some tea, and put on chill music. No, not chill music. Put on the song "Africa" by Toto, because that's what present-Decker would do. And he'd go for a walk. Actually no, fuck walks. He'd go for a run. And since it's warm outside because it's April he better go for a run shirtless. Decker-1's got it made doesn't he?
Unfortunately that leads us to the second "future self", Decker-2. Decker-2 doesn't end up going to Africa. This is where shit gets awkward. Decker-2 is gonna read this in April and smile and think that I (present-Decker) is a dumbass. He'll read all that crap a paragraph up about kissing his girlfriend goodbye, going for a run, all that nonsense and think, "yeah I'm still going to work at the Y, still gonna do my thing, whatever." Hell Decker-2 might even be going somewhere COOLER than Kenya. But long story short Decker-2 is probably not too thrilled reading this. Sorry Decker-2, I tried.
So whichever version of my future self is reading this, I hope you're going to Kenya. I have nothing else to discuss tonight. For some reason all I can think about is Kenya. I apply tomorrow. I really want to go. Either way, I'll go somewhere eventually. I mean I'm gonna be a pilot, I can't do my job unless I'm going somewhere. Until next time...
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Changes in Aspects of Partying in College Life
Okay. So I only have like less than a half hour to blog right now, but I feel this is like at the top of my mind right now so bombs away.
The challenge of balancing school and partying dramatically grown more difficult over the past few weeks. I find myself regularly going out on Thursdays now, I find myself missing classes and ROTC jargon due to the extent of my partying. Which means I have to tone it down. It's really no big deal, I just gotta focus.
College changes several aspects of partying, which I find fascinating. First and foremost, college parties have removed status from the equation. Do you remember back in the high school days when having more than one party to go to at a certain time meant you were at the top? Everyone plays it off in high school like they don't care if they get invited to parties, but deep down EVERYONE gets excited over it. Now in college there is simply no status involved with going to a party (there is if you do it right, but I'll get into that at a later date). Now that there are parties every night, and finding them is easy, you can party as much as you want to and no one gives a fuck! Your friends may see you as an "alcoholic" if you party every single night, and you may "drop out" due to your lack of academic discipline, but you certainly aren't viewed socially superior in any way.
Second change in college partying: Responsibility. The entire aspect of responsibility has been amplified by a factor of ten. You have to govern yourself on how much to drink, when to drink, keeping out of a bad situation, etc. Of course high school partying had no or little parental advising, i.e. no one was telling you what to do; but it's easy to let the fact that you have to physically see your parents the following day govern you into doing the right thing and not going overboard. It's 8:30am on a Wednesday morning and I could get hammered right now. Without much trouble I'd probably find people to do it with. Put on some Roscoe Dash and BAM you have a party at 8:30am Wednesday morning. In high school the simple fact that you're constantly appeasing your parents even at a subconscious level will keep you from partying right now. But in college, who is to tell you what to do? Long story short you have to govern yourself, which seems completely obvious and is something that every adult has been telling you about college since 8th grade, but so many people completely miss the point. It's more than going to class sober, it's retraining your subconsciousness to stop you from doing stupid shit; you will no longer get in immediate "trouble" for your actions.
The combination of those two aspects I present lead me to actually differ from partying. It is difficult. Senior year of high school has trained me to be an opportunist when it comes to alcohol consumption. Will I completely abandon partying for the rest of my career? Probably not because that's not the point of my theology. But since I no longer party for rebellious and social-hierarchical reasons then what purpose does my beloved partying hold? I'll figure that out later. Until then...
The challenge of balancing school and partying dramatically grown more difficult over the past few weeks. I find myself regularly going out on Thursdays now, I find myself missing classes and ROTC jargon due to the extent of my partying. Which means I have to tone it down. It's really no big deal, I just gotta focus.
College changes several aspects of partying, which I find fascinating. First and foremost, college parties have removed status from the equation. Do you remember back in the high school days when having more than one party to go to at a certain time meant you were at the top? Everyone plays it off in high school like they don't care if they get invited to parties, but deep down EVERYONE gets excited over it. Now in college there is simply no status involved with going to a party (there is if you do it right, but I'll get into that at a later date). Now that there are parties every night, and finding them is easy, you can party as much as you want to and no one gives a fuck! Your friends may see you as an "alcoholic" if you party every single night, and you may "drop out" due to your lack of academic discipline, but you certainly aren't viewed socially superior in any way.
Second change in college partying: Responsibility. The entire aspect of responsibility has been amplified by a factor of ten. You have to govern yourself on how much to drink, when to drink, keeping out of a bad situation, etc. Of course high school partying had no or little parental advising, i.e. no one was telling you what to do; but it's easy to let the fact that you have to physically see your parents the following day govern you into doing the right thing and not going overboard. It's 8:30am on a Wednesday morning and I could get hammered right now. Without much trouble I'd probably find people to do it with. Put on some Roscoe Dash and BAM you have a party at 8:30am Wednesday morning. In high school the simple fact that you're constantly appeasing your parents even at a subconscious level will keep you from partying right now. But in college, who is to tell you what to do? Long story short you have to govern yourself, which seems completely obvious and is something that every adult has been telling you about college since 8th grade, but so many people completely miss the point. It's more than going to class sober, it's retraining your subconsciousness to stop you from doing stupid shit; you will no longer get in immediate "trouble" for your actions.
The combination of those two aspects I present lead me to actually differ from partying. It is difficult. Senior year of high school has trained me to be an opportunist when it comes to alcohol consumption. Will I completely abandon partying for the rest of my career? Probably not because that's not the point of my theology. But since I no longer party for rebellious and social-hierarchical reasons then what purpose does my beloved partying hold? I'll figure that out later. Until then...
Thursday, October 20, 2011
I want a space ship
Good evening everyone. And uh, it's Thursday. I'm relaxing sipping my tea. I had Air Force Lead Lab, I had my classes, I had PT, and now it's Thursday night and I'm done for the week. My weekend starts now. I remember a few weeks ago, hell even a year ago, I said the weekend starts on Thursday. However despite saying this, I truly considered Thursday to be more of a soft transition into the real weekend. Now that weekdays have been increased in toughness and intensity, I find it imperative that weekends truly start on Thursdays. Thursdays are really filled with magic and wonder once you start thinking about it; the harder your work-week is, the more sacred Thursday becomes. Ok facebook status that shit. Nowadays I find myself looking at the clock around 2:30 on a Thursday afternoon thinking, "Only 5 hours of this week left" and then thanking God. Those 5 hours have passed and my week is now over, so I can go forth to relax to my thoughts, music, and tea.
I want a space ship. And I'm picky about it too. I don't want a shitty small one that can only fit a chimpanzee and lands in the Gulf of Mexico. No. I want a big one that has like multiple wings and a master bedroom. I wanna be able to design it, like lay it out on paper and make it just for me. Then I wanna take it on like massive voyages that take like a week to complete. Every now and then I would like to hop in my space ship and leave this world for a little bit. There'll be a coffee maker on my ship and a nice bay window with a clear view of the final frontier where I can sit back in my cool space recliner and sip some tribute. It would be the ultimate escape, I would do nothing for the entire week. In fact I wouldn't even be able to be selfish enough to go it alone, I'd have quarters made for my best friends in the world. Karen, Doug, Alex, my boys, Katie, Becca, their dates, everyone I love would be doing this voyage with me. We'd chill and relax all the time, not worrying about a thing, just looking at space nebulas and distant stars.
Then after a few days we'd start to become rambunctious. That is when I would lead my friends to a section of the ship they'd never seen before, I'd step behind a bar and start popping bottles. Rum, tequila, bourbon, BEER, and Ice for the ladies, I'd have it stocked in my space ship and we'd have a great night pumping good music and sipping tasteful cocktails. We'd get inebriated and take a look out the small porthole laced with bolts and titanium. We'd realize that we're on the top of the world, but we wouldn't give a fuck! We'd keep drinking, and keep having fun. We'd wake up in the morning in our cool space beds with a hangover handcrafted from hell. We'd stumble to the dining hall (yes, my spaceship has a dining HALL) and eat eggs and bacon and sip Vitamin Water: Revive and we'd smile at the simple fact that we're having a great time on our space ship.
And after we've had our fun and leisure, our ship would return home. We'd have a lazy last day, lounging around doing nothing. Our ship would automatically be guided back to Earth and touch down at some strip of runway, and we'd disembark. We wouldn't be sad our trip was over, we'd be nothing but refreshed. We'd be ready to step back into the world and put up with society's bullshit with a smile. We'd always think back to the infinite amounts of fun we had together on our space journey. It would help us put up with the negative things in life, and help us look forward to the positive.
I didn't realize this until about half-way through writing it, but what I just described was a vacation. I was in deep thought last night as I fell asleep, about the very topic of custom space ships. It was half-fantasy, half-dream. I basically dreamt up that spaceship and how nice it'd be. Then when I actually wrote it down I discovered that a cool week-long space vacation is pretty much the same as any week-long vacation. It gives you the opportunity to not worry for a week, to let go of inhibitions for a week, to party and relax at the same time. And that opportunity is drastically necessary! My week long space vacation almost exactly describes a Caribbean cruise. In the end, we'd be recharged to face another big chunk of bullshit for the future. And that's why I love vacations.
I've recently slipped out of the zone. Surely you know what the zone is, but in case you don't I'll elaborate. The "zone", as I call it, is the binding mental force that drives you to do spectacular things without problem. It is how I can get up at 6am and then go to class and then do homework, and NOT bitch about it. The zone is almost synonymous with motivation. Getting to the point, SOMEHOW I've slipped out of it. It was like 3 weeks when I simply was not in the zone. And it is very difficult to keep doing all this shit when you're just not in the zone. I don't know what caused me to suddenly not give a fuck, but luckily I am, in fact, back in the zone. And that is because I all of the sudden had some late realization about becoming a pilot.
Due to a couple of factors, I suddenly realized how close I am to achieving my number 1 goal of becoming a pilot. I have everything I need to get there, I have been doing everything so far. This is a very hard transition for me. Put yourself in my shoes, I've been dreaming to become a pilot for 18 years now. All of the sudden, my actions are directly affecting the outcome of that goal. Up until now, there wasn't much I could do to contribute to my pilot slot, and now there is. As long as my PT scores and GPA remain high, all I need to do is wait TWO FUCKING YEARS. Needless to say I'm excited. I'm like a kid in November, I can see my Christmas presents, but it's still sooooooo far away! And I'm determined. It's what keeps me in the zone. I'm gonna be a pilot. I don't care. Shut up. I'm gonna be a pilot.
I'm done blogging for tonight. I hope you enjoyed reading my shit. If you didn't, it's not for you so don't be a dick. I will hopefully get my drink on tonight and "shoot" my way into the weekend. Pun intended. Thank you. Until next time... Have a good night everyone.
I want a space ship. And I'm picky about it too. I don't want a shitty small one that can only fit a chimpanzee and lands in the Gulf of Mexico. No. I want a big one that has like multiple wings and a master bedroom. I wanna be able to design it, like lay it out on paper and make it just for me. Then I wanna take it on like massive voyages that take like a week to complete. Every now and then I would like to hop in my space ship and leave this world for a little bit. There'll be a coffee maker on my ship and a nice bay window with a clear view of the final frontier where I can sit back in my cool space recliner and sip some tribute. It would be the ultimate escape, I would do nothing for the entire week. In fact I wouldn't even be able to be selfish enough to go it alone, I'd have quarters made for my best friends in the world. Karen, Doug, Alex, my boys, Katie, Becca, their dates, everyone I love would be doing this voyage with me. We'd chill and relax all the time, not worrying about a thing, just looking at space nebulas and distant stars.
Then after a few days we'd start to become rambunctious. That is when I would lead my friends to a section of the ship they'd never seen before, I'd step behind a bar and start popping bottles. Rum, tequila, bourbon, BEER, and Ice for the ladies, I'd have it stocked in my space ship and we'd have a great night pumping good music and sipping tasteful cocktails. We'd get inebriated and take a look out the small porthole laced with bolts and titanium. We'd realize that we're on the top of the world, but we wouldn't give a fuck! We'd keep drinking, and keep having fun. We'd wake up in the morning in our cool space beds with a hangover handcrafted from hell. We'd stumble to the dining hall (yes, my spaceship has a dining HALL) and eat eggs and bacon and sip Vitamin Water: Revive and we'd smile at the simple fact that we're having a great time on our space ship.
And after we've had our fun and leisure, our ship would return home. We'd have a lazy last day, lounging around doing nothing. Our ship would automatically be guided back to Earth and touch down at some strip of runway, and we'd disembark. We wouldn't be sad our trip was over, we'd be nothing but refreshed. We'd be ready to step back into the world and put up with society's bullshit with a smile. We'd always think back to the infinite amounts of fun we had together on our space journey. It would help us put up with the negative things in life, and help us look forward to the positive.
I didn't realize this until about half-way through writing it, but what I just described was a vacation. I was in deep thought last night as I fell asleep, about the very topic of custom space ships. It was half-fantasy, half-dream. I basically dreamt up that spaceship and how nice it'd be. Then when I actually wrote it down I discovered that a cool week-long space vacation is pretty much the same as any week-long vacation. It gives you the opportunity to not worry for a week, to let go of inhibitions for a week, to party and relax at the same time. And that opportunity is drastically necessary! My week long space vacation almost exactly describes a Caribbean cruise. In the end, we'd be recharged to face another big chunk of bullshit for the future. And that's why I love vacations.
I've recently slipped out of the zone. Surely you know what the zone is, but in case you don't I'll elaborate. The "zone", as I call it, is the binding mental force that drives you to do spectacular things without problem. It is how I can get up at 6am and then go to class and then do homework, and NOT bitch about it. The zone is almost synonymous with motivation. Getting to the point, SOMEHOW I've slipped out of it. It was like 3 weeks when I simply was not in the zone. And it is very difficult to keep doing all this shit when you're just not in the zone. I don't know what caused me to suddenly not give a fuck, but luckily I am, in fact, back in the zone. And that is because I all of the sudden had some late realization about becoming a pilot.
Due to a couple of factors, I suddenly realized how close I am to achieving my number 1 goal of becoming a pilot. I have everything I need to get there, I have been doing everything so far. This is a very hard transition for me. Put yourself in my shoes, I've been dreaming to become a pilot for 18 years now. All of the sudden, my actions are directly affecting the outcome of that goal. Up until now, there wasn't much I could do to contribute to my pilot slot, and now there is. As long as my PT scores and GPA remain high, all I need to do is wait TWO FUCKING YEARS. Needless to say I'm excited. I'm like a kid in November, I can see my Christmas presents, but it's still sooooooo far away! And I'm determined. It's what keeps me in the zone. I'm gonna be a pilot. I don't care. Shut up. I'm gonna be a pilot.
I'm done blogging for tonight. I hope you enjoyed reading my shit. If you didn't, it's not for you so don't be a dick. I will hopefully get my drink on tonight and "shoot" my way into the weekend. Pun intended. Thank you. Until next time... Have a good night everyone.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Going to a teen club and hitting on 15 year old floozies is NOT partying. Sorry.
Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo friday afternoon. My coffee pot dripped a little onto the burner and is disturbing me with the smell of burned coffee. And it keeps sizzling which is kind of annoying. Get over yourself coffee pot. Stop acting like a child.
Coffee today is actually a bit on the extra bold side. See what happened is one of my neighbors, Jose, is from Columbia and has a cool three pounds of fresh ground coffee and gave me enough for like 4 cups. So I made like 2 cups out of it so it's actually pretty strong this afternoon. And it's not bad actually. Props to Jose.
It's actually been less than 24 hours since my last post. This is a rare occasion. Fucking enjoy it.
So last night was one of those nights that I will remember for the rest of my life. It wasn't one of those night's where in a year you're like "oh yeah I forgot about that", no this is just one of those night's that make an impression. I actually finally broke down and partied on a Thursday night. Pause.
Mind you, I did not go out. I'm not sure how many times I've defined partying in this blog but partying is the combination of 3 things. Girls. Alcohol. And Music. If you have those three things then you were, in effect, partying. Doesn't mean you went to a party. Just means that you partied. I hate it when people get that confused. And another thing I hate is when people are lacking like 1-2 of the 3 necessities yet they still say they're partying. Like having a beer with your dad is NOT partying. Doing shots of heaven hill (which doesn't even deserve proper capitalization) with a bunch of guys is NOT partying. Going to a teen club and hitting on 15 year old floozies is NOT partying. Sorry. Just shut up and don't call it partying.
Resume. So I was relaxing to some tea, getting a jump on math homework I didn't wanna reserve for today, and I became sidetracked and went to chill with Jamal and two girls who practically live on my floor. We're chilling and one thing lead to another and now we're doing shots of coconut rum delicioso in the dorm out of my "I'm in Miami Bitch" shot glass.
Ok so I know it's against my "code" to party on a Thursday night. Like I specifically remember making the conscious decision to only party on weekends. Then I decided that Thursday night was a weekend but I was only to party on a Thursday if the conditions were right for it. And honestly conditions couldn't be more perfect last night. I had just done two midterms, it was the halfway point in the semester, and for once in a while I didn't have anything to worry about.
It's reasons like last night that I love my dorm room. Like fucking admit it. It's just straight relaxing to gaze into my beachy-ass posters and take a sip of coconut-rum-spiked-coffee while kicking back to the sweet sounds of my vacation playlist.
I took my decorations to the exterior today. I got a picture of South Beach and put a Chris Brown quote about partying to it and taped it up on the door. I think it serves as a sign. Kinda like saying "Look if you're gonna step foot in this room you're gonna be chill and you're not gonna chase away the party." That's what room #808 is all about. Fucking get with it.
Here's an observation I made last time I was in the gym. Sometimes, there are rooms that simply don't have clocks. Like they just didn't invest the couple of dollars into buying a public-use time piece. And I think I know why. I think there are some organizations that just don't want you to stress over what time it is. Take for example, cruise ships. You will find very few clocks on cruise ships. Why? Because you're on a fucking cruise ship, don't worry about it. You don't need to know the time, you have no schedule, all you know is that in like a couple of days your cruise will end. I was quite excited while in the Johnson Center when I couldn't find any clocks. I thought to myself, "Ahh ok. This is obviously a place of peace and therefore I don't need to know what time it is." I was quite happy to be a part of such a open-minded gym. Then about ten minutes later I noticed the big clock up on the center wall that I somehow had missed. Oh well, it was a cool thought while it lasted.
So today we were learning about different love types in Communication. And one of the slides said "This love..." which made me think of the song "this love" by maroon 5. And I was like "that's such a chill song, I'm gonna listen to it later." And like three hours later it came on the radio in the gym. And I was like "Ahhh that's my song! Sweet!" Then, AS I'M WRITING THIS, it comes on Pandora. Like are you serious!? I'm getting the full "This Love" dose today! Fuck yeah!
Alright enough vacation chill shit. Time to get serious. I wanna know where my obsession with status went. Like I can't find it. It's gone. Like I specifically remember, and it's also in stuff I've written in the past, that from like Spring 2010 until recently I've defined myself by status. Like I stressed over it. I had to be drinking the RIGHT bottle. I had to fly on the RIGHT airline through the RIGHT layovers to the RIGHT destinations. I had to attend and throw the RIGHT parties. I had to bump the RIGHT music in the parking lot before school. The list goes on. Long story short, my decisions were based on where they would get me in the eyes of others.
For example. I went to Los Angeles (twice) to see a friend. And both times I milked the shit out of it. I made sure everyone's News Feeds were just clogged with the cool shit I'm doing. Because I have more status than you, you need to be jealous of me.
AND ALL THE SUDDEN it's over. Now I don't give a shit how much the bottle of tequila cost for the night's pregaming. Like maybe the first couple of nights at UK I cared about status. Getting kicked out of a frat party: high status. Yeah that's right I'm in the Air Force BITCH: high status. Yeah I party with famous basketball players no big deal: high status. But after about a week or two, I didn't give a shit. I guess I had more important things to stress about, I had to make room.
This coffee isn't very good. I mean it's strong and decent, but I was expecting better. Oh well when you drink Tribute every morning you get pretty damn picky about coffee.
So I'm going home (again) this weekend. Doug is as well. We shall smoke fine cigars and drink cold beers all night long. That sounds so chill I can't fucking wait.
Here's something interesting. Take the words "beer" and "cigars". What do you think of? I think of average beers, and average cigars. Which equates to an average night. But what if I changed it up and we looked at the words "cold beer" and "fine cigars". The entire connotation changes. It's incredible. All once you make the distinction that the malt is in fact colder than the planets, and the cigars are finely wrapped Ashton leafs, suddenly it's a classy night which will likely be enjoyed. I love that!
Well I guess I should go home. I'm almost done with my two cups of coffee. And of course you know the rules I can't stop blogging until I finish BOTH cups. Ok I'm done. And I'm also done writing. Good shit. Have a good weekend everyone! Until next time...
Coffee today is actually a bit on the extra bold side. See what happened is one of my neighbors, Jose, is from Columbia and has a cool three pounds of fresh ground coffee and gave me enough for like 4 cups. So I made like 2 cups out of it so it's actually pretty strong this afternoon. And it's not bad actually. Props to Jose.
It's actually been less than 24 hours since my last post. This is a rare occasion. Fucking enjoy it.
So last night was one of those nights that I will remember for the rest of my life. It wasn't one of those night's where in a year you're like "oh yeah I forgot about that", no this is just one of those night's that make an impression. I actually finally broke down and partied on a Thursday night. Pause.
Mind you, I did not go out. I'm not sure how many times I've defined partying in this blog but partying is the combination of 3 things. Girls. Alcohol. And Music. If you have those three things then you were, in effect, partying. Doesn't mean you went to a party. Just means that you partied. I hate it when people get that confused. And another thing I hate is when people are lacking like 1-2 of the 3 necessities yet they still say they're partying. Like having a beer with your dad is NOT partying. Doing shots of heaven hill (which doesn't even deserve proper capitalization) with a bunch of guys is NOT partying. Going to a teen club and hitting on 15 year old floozies is NOT partying. Sorry. Just shut up and don't call it partying.
Resume. So I was relaxing to some tea, getting a jump on math homework I didn't wanna reserve for today, and I became sidetracked and went to chill with Jamal and two girls who practically live on my floor. We're chilling and one thing lead to another and now we're doing shots of coconut rum delicioso in the dorm out of my "I'm in Miami Bitch" shot glass.
Ok so I know it's against my "code" to party on a Thursday night. Like I specifically remember making the conscious decision to only party on weekends. Then I decided that Thursday night was a weekend but I was only to party on a Thursday if the conditions were right for it. And honestly conditions couldn't be more perfect last night. I had just done two midterms, it was the halfway point in the semester, and for once in a while I didn't have anything to worry about.
It's reasons like last night that I love my dorm room. Like fucking admit it. It's just straight relaxing to gaze into my beachy-ass posters and take a sip of coconut-rum-spiked-coffee while kicking back to the sweet sounds of my vacation playlist.
I took my decorations to the exterior today. I got a picture of South Beach and put a Chris Brown quote about partying to it and taped it up on the door. I think it serves as a sign. Kinda like saying "Look if you're gonna step foot in this room you're gonna be chill and you're not gonna chase away the party." That's what room #808 is all about. Fucking get with it.
Here's an observation I made last time I was in the gym. Sometimes, there are rooms that simply don't have clocks. Like they just didn't invest the couple of dollars into buying a public-use time piece. And I think I know why. I think there are some organizations that just don't want you to stress over what time it is. Take for example, cruise ships. You will find very few clocks on cruise ships. Why? Because you're on a fucking cruise ship, don't worry about it. You don't need to know the time, you have no schedule, all you know is that in like a couple of days your cruise will end. I was quite excited while in the Johnson Center when I couldn't find any clocks. I thought to myself, "Ahh ok. This is obviously a place of peace and therefore I don't need to know what time it is." I was quite happy to be a part of such a open-minded gym. Then about ten minutes later I noticed the big clock up on the center wall that I somehow had missed. Oh well, it was a cool thought while it lasted.
So today we were learning about different love types in Communication. And one of the slides said "This love..." which made me think of the song "this love" by maroon 5. And I was like "that's such a chill song, I'm gonna listen to it later." And like three hours later it came on the radio in the gym. And I was like "Ahhh that's my song! Sweet!" Then, AS I'M WRITING THIS, it comes on Pandora. Like are you serious!? I'm getting the full "This Love" dose today! Fuck yeah!
Alright enough vacation chill shit. Time to get serious. I wanna know where my obsession with status went. Like I can't find it. It's gone. Like I specifically remember, and it's also in stuff I've written in the past, that from like Spring 2010 until recently I've defined myself by status. Like I stressed over it. I had to be drinking the RIGHT bottle. I had to fly on the RIGHT airline through the RIGHT layovers to the RIGHT destinations. I had to attend and throw the RIGHT parties. I had to bump the RIGHT music in the parking lot before school. The list goes on. Long story short, my decisions were based on where they would get me in the eyes of others.
For example. I went to Los Angeles (twice) to see a friend. And both times I milked the shit out of it. I made sure everyone's News Feeds were just clogged with the cool shit I'm doing. Because I have more status than you, you need to be jealous of me.
AND ALL THE SUDDEN it's over. Now I don't give a shit how much the bottle of tequila cost for the night's pregaming. Like maybe the first couple of nights at UK I cared about status. Getting kicked out of a frat party: high status. Yeah that's right I'm in the Air Force BITCH: high status. Yeah I party with famous basketball players no big deal: high status. But after about a week or two, I didn't give a shit. I guess I had more important things to stress about, I had to make room.
This coffee isn't very good. I mean it's strong and decent, but I was expecting better. Oh well when you drink Tribute every morning you get pretty damn picky about coffee.
So I'm going home (again) this weekend. Doug is as well. We shall smoke fine cigars and drink cold beers all night long. That sounds so chill I can't fucking wait.
Here's something interesting. Take the words "beer" and "cigars". What do you think of? I think of average beers, and average cigars. Which equates to an average night. But what if I changed it up and we looked at the words "cold beer" and "fine cigars". The entire connotation changes. It's incredible. All once you make the distinction that the malt is in fact colder than the planets, and the cigars are finely wrapped Ashton leafs, suddenly it's a classy night which will likely be enjoyed. I love that!
Well I guess I should go home. I'm almost done with my two cups of coffee. And of course you know the rules I can't stop blogging until I finish BOTH cups. Ok I'm done. And I'm also done writing. Good shit. Have a good weekend everyone! Until next time...
Thursday, October 13, 2011
I wouldn't get to fly....
Good evening. Yeah I know. It's Thursday night. What am I doing blogging? Well it's because I feel like it. I was considering going out tonight. In fact I was planning on going out tonight. But like, it's kinda rainy, and cold, and I just wanna like sit in my warm dorm room with a hoodie, sip some tea and just be on my chill level. So here I am. On my chill level, blogging away.
So I'd hate to start out this blog post negatively, but real talk this needs to be addressed. Where the fuck are my hiking boots. It is October 13th and I haven't worn my trusty Merril's since like May. I miss the relaxing comfort they provided on my walks through school. And now that my walks are legit, and outdoors, I would really appreciate some good shoes. I remember back in the Room334 days, back in the dias de Hobbs, I would talk about walking around Eastern in those boots. I can feel the support on my feet right now. It was like burying your feet in sand, then the sand become weightless and you could walk around with the entire beach at your feet. And since they're hiking boots you would take that beach on your feet up mountains, and traverse through jungles and ravines. It was comfort through the most rugged conditions, like flying first class in a C-17 through Afghanistan. Hiking boots are the result of comfort meeting power, like a Bugatti speeding down the autobahn at 180. So seriously where the fuck are my hiking boots?
I'm so fucking CHILL right now. Like I haven't been this calm and relaxed in so long. It's blissful. And you know what else? I love blogging so much. It's something about the freedom to write about ANYTHING that pops into your head. Like I just thought of something while texting Doug, and after this paragraph I'm gonna write about it. Why? Cuz I can. And I know that know one's really gonna read it. Two or three people tops: Karen will read it because she likes reading everything I write and I don't know why; Alex will likely read it because he just IMed me saying he was going to read it when I finished.
And who else is gonna read it? Probably no one. What I find fascinating is that my parents don't read this. I remind them that I write in a blog like once a month at least. I even tell them the website address. Like I'm inviting ma and pa to read it and they never seem to pick up the hint. I admit all in this blog. I admit just about everything that rattles around in my head. I admit even to lying to my parents. So the fact that they don't even fucking read it makes me think just "whatever".
I've decided I need to listen to the song "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz like at least once a week. Necessity.
In other news, one of the UK Core Stats classes is doing a project which requires students to conduct surveys. And I don't know why, but I enjoy taking them. I've done like 5 tonight. They're fun. I wish to take more.
I have been working and stressing to an unhealthy extent recently. As a coping mechanism, which I really only slightly understand, I've been fantasizing. However, instead of thinking up your typical fantasies about wealth and success, I've been doing the exact opposite. I often catch myself fantasizing about dropping out of college and Air Force ROTC, picking up a job as a truck driver, and smoking hella weed and relaxing in my truck to the soft music of The Beach Boys for the rest of my life. I wouldn't ever have to worry. I wouldn't have to stress day and night over a number. I wouldn't have to wake up at 6:00am to run around for an hour. I wouldn't have to spend hours and hours doing 30 problems of basic chemistry while everyone surrounding me gets high, eats chips, and watches looney tunes for 2 hours. I wouldn't have to do anything. I would just drive my truck, have a nice stop at Arby's, get some beef jerky for the road, and sit in my comfy chair.
It's complicated though. The amazing thing about these counter-intuitive fantasies is that at the end of the day, it's not actually what I want. If I lived out my fantasy, yeah I wouldn't have to do shit. But then I wouldn't get to come home to proud parents, a proud girlfriend, and a proud ego. I wouldn't get to show off the number I worked so hard for. I wouldn't get to see the world. I wouldn't become wealthy. With no pride, no money, and nothing to have to back up all my hard work, what would I be? I wouldn't get to look down on people, because I wouldn't be above anyone. I wouldn't deserve anything but a $6 meal at Arby's, a bag of beef jerky, and a comfy chair.
I wouldn't get to fly. It's impossible to stay focused even though all I do is push for that number. It's like swimming through bricks, you get to the half way point and think, "Wait, why the fuck am I swimming through bricks?" Then you start to have to remind yourself.
It's every morning, "Well, it's 6:00am. There's a C-17 out there with an incomplete preflight checklist, and someone's gotta be there in 6 years to do it. But right now it's 6:00am. And I have to be at PT in 20 minutes. And I have to finish my homework by tomorrow night. And I have to study for my midterm..." Then I go to PT.
I don't even know what to write about after that. Looks like I had to get something off my chest. Yeah this blog post is complete. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll probably post again soon. If Bill or Sandy Loyd is reading this, way to take some fucking initiative. Until next time...
So I'd hate to start out this blog post negatively, but real talk this needs to be addressed. Where the fuck are my hiking boots. It is October 13th and I haven't worn my trusty Merril's since like May. I miss the relaxing comfort they provided on my walks through school. And now that my walks are legit, and outdoors, I would really appreciate some good shoes. I remember back in the Room334 days, back in the dias de Hobbs, I would talk about walking around Eastern in those boots. I can feel the support on my feet right now. It was like burying your feet in sand, then the sand become weightless and you could walk around with the entire beach at your feet. And since they're hiking boots you would take that beach on your feet up mountains, and traverse through jungles and ravines. It was comfort through the most rugged conditions, like flying first class in a C-17 through Afghanistan. Hiking boots are the result of comfort meeting power, like a Bugatti speeding down the autobahn at 180. So seriously where the fuck are my hiking boots?
I'm so fucking CHILL right now. Like I haven't been this calm and relaxed in so long. It's blissful. And you know what else? I love blogging so much. It's something about the freedom to write about ANYTHING that pops into your head. Like I just thought of something while texting Doug, and after this paragraph I'm gonna write about it. Why? Cuz I can. And I know that know one's really gonna read it. Two or three people tops: Karen will read it because she likes reading everything I write and I don't know why; Alex will likely read it because he just IMed me saying he was going to read it when I finished.
And who else is gonna read it? Probably no one. What I find fascinating is that my parents don't read this. I remind them that I write in a blog like once a month at least. I even tell them the website address. Like I'm inviting ma and pa to read it and they never seem to pick up the hint. I admit all in this blog. I admit just about everything that rattles around in my head. I admit even to lying to my parents. So the fact that they don't even fucking read it makes me think just "whatever".
I've decided I need to listen to the song "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz like at least once a week. Necessity.
In other news, one of the UK Core Stats classes is doing a project which requires students to conduct surveys. And I don't know why, but I enjoy taking them. I've done like 5 tonight. They're fun. I wish to take more.
I have been working and stressing to an unhealthy extent recently. As a coping mechanism, which I really only slightly understand, I've been fantasizing. However, instead of thinking up your typical fantasies about wealth and success, I've been doing the exact opposite. I often catch myself fantasizing about dropping out of college and Air Force ROTC, picking up a job as a truck driver, and smoking hella weed and relaxing in my truck to the soft music of The Beach Boys for the rest of my life. I wouldn't ever have to worry. I wouldn't have to stress day and night over a number. I wouldn't have to wake up at 6:00am to run around for an hour. I wouldn't have to spend hours and hours doing 30 problems of basic chemistry while everyone surrounding me gets high, eats chips, and watches looney tunes for 2 hours. I wouldn't have to do anything. I would just drive my truck, have a nice stop at Arby's, get some beef jerky for the road, and sit in my comfy chair.
It's complicated though. The amazing thing about these counter-intuitive fantasies is that at the end of the day, it's not actually what I want. If I lived out my fantasy, yeah I wouldn't have to do shit. But then I wouldn't get to come home to proud parents, a proud girlfriend, and a proud ego. I wouldn't get to show off the number I worked so hard for. I wouldn't get to see the world. I wouldn't become wealthy. With no pride, no money, and nothing to have to back up all my hard work, what would I be? I wouldn't get to look down on people, because I wouldn't be above anyone. I wouldn't deserve anything but a $6 meal at Arby's, a bag of beef jerky, and a comfy chair.
I wouldn't get to fly. It's impossible to stay focused even though all I do is push for that number. It's like swimming through bricks, you get to the half way point and think, "Wait, why the fuck am I swimming through bricks?" Then you start to have to remind yourself.
It's every morning, "Well, it's 6:00am. There's a C-17 out there with an incomplete preflight checklist, and someone's gotta be there in 6 years to do it. But right now it's 6:00am. And I have to be at PT in 20 minutes. And I have to finish my homework by tomorrow night. And I have to study for my midterm..." Then I go to PT.
I don't even know what to write about after that. Looks like I had to get something off my chest. Yeah this blog post is complete. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll probably post again soon. If Bill or Sandy Loyd is reading this, way to take some fucking initiative. Until next time...
Friday, October 7, 2011
Associate Me with Palm Trees
Gooooooooooood afternoon ladies and gentlemen. I just had a delightful sandwich and now I'm sipping on a delightful cup of coffee. This will in fact be the second weekend in a row I go home. Which means that soon I will hit yet another party phase and go absolute nuts. Good for future me.
So surprisingly, last weeks post was in fact a record breaker. Weighing in at a total of over 1,500 words, it surpassed the previous record by a solid 150 words. Perhaps I am developing as a blogger. Perhaps...
I have some good topics lined up for this week of discussion, so I hope ALL of my readers enjoy, unfortunately I don't have very many readers. I just put on some confidence enhancing music (sexy and i know it), fuck yeah.
I wanna start by stating how much I look forward to posting in this blog. I mean it's all week I'm brainstorming ideas to talk about. This blog is my light at the end of the tunnel from a week long of work. My Friday routine hasn't changed much in the past couple months since it's conception. Class, workout, run around campus shirtless, blog. Done.
My nails are kinda long. I'm gonna trim them. Like right now.
Ok that's much better. So I just realized while clipping my nails, that this is the first time in my life which I spend more time with my girlfriend than my parents. I find that interesting. All the way up through your childhood, you are forced to spend more time with your parents than your bros or girlfriend. Now that's flipped on it's head. Now obviously I spend the most time with my bros right now, but the fact that I see my geef at least once a week, and my parents sometimes less than once a month. Shit, this kinda proves my childhood is over.
Speaking of my girlfriend, two weeks ago I blogged about having sex on a Friday at 7:30. Well last Friday I actually got to do it. If you read back two posts you will see my enthusiasm for a 1900 hookup. I was quite curious as to what would happen, cuz the 7:30 feeling is BTS, so if you have sex during it then what the fuck happens? Well I discovered the answer. NOTHING. NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED. Which is bullshit! I was expecting to be enlightened to the point of self actualization, I was expecting to see God! Maybe a natural high that lasted the whole weekend? NOPE! In fact all that happened is I became tired as shit and exhausted and fell asleep at like 9:00pm.
Wait a second. I just solved the problem. Ok, so 7:30 on a Friday is between classes and parties. And it's BTS. So if you actually introduce sex into the equation, the units cancel! The universe will actually restrict you from partying after having sex at 7:30, I suspect this is usually in the form of exhaustion. BUT!!! If you do introduce sex into the equation, and the universe restricts you from a party, then the actual, BTS moment would be in between classes and sex wouldn't it? Hmmmm... food for thought. I will have to study and experiment with this over the next couple of weeks. What would happen if you had sex at 7:30 but then forced yourself to go to a party? Would there be a way to "trick" the universe? Yeah. Mind=FUCKED.
Brb I'm gonna call Karen. Ok I'm back. And that took twenty minutes. I counted. Now I gotta pee.
Now I wanna share something with you that Doug told me. Put on some fucking vacation playlist, and do enjoy this segment. This quote made me smile ear to ear. It can be traced back to the reason Doug and I are the best inseparable friends possible. I plan to frame the quote with a palm tree relaxing back ground. I will then hang it up in my bedroom. If I move, the quote will move with me. It will follow me all the way to retirement. Doug said...
"Dude. When we get super old let's retire and move to Florida together. Roommates in a nice house down the street from the beach. We can do just nothing but enjoy cigars, cold beers, and wearing nice clothes. You can just always drive your boat around while I do nothing but fish and listen to music."
I literally got goosebumps when I retyped that in. This quote completely defines who Doug and I are. Palm trees, success and the sky. And cold beer. To think that our lives will converge upon our 60th birthday, and we will spend the rest of our days together doing nothing but relaxing and enjoying what makes us calm and happy. It will be a vacation.
But we can't do that until we finish our lives. Doug is moving forward to be a very successful musician. I am moving forward to be a very successful aviator. We must finish what we started before we get to the endless vacation. Even though we will work our asses off to accomplish such a level of success, it will be the bulk of our lives, and we simply can't "cut to the chase". But when I turn 60, on April 9th, 2053, and I move into that nice house by the beach, I'm going to play "Island in the Sun" everyday until I die. Believe it.
Ok picture this. You're life changes and suddenly becomes several times cooler. Let's say you move to Miami. You go to a club to celebrate this with your bros. You walk onto the dance floor, look around to see strobe lights, fog machines and lasers, girls half naked dancing and you take a sip of you redbull and vodka. I call this a slow motion moment. It's when your'e life instantly becomes much much cooler, time warps and you actually put into slow motion for a couple seconds. I call it a slow motion moment.
I have one like once every couple of months, I mean they're pretty rare. The last time I got one is at the Luau party on the first day at UK. Being laid to dubstep music having water sprayed on me with Tom Rupp with strobes and shit, made me realize I was in college and my life was really fucking cool, when I realized it I found myself in a trance and everything goes slow motion for like 3 seconds. It's fucking cool as shit. Like I'm not making this up. It's like being in a movie.
Other times my life has gotten cooler and I've had slow motion moments include when I helped Dani throw a super successful party, when I got my pilot's license and flew over my high school during school hours, and when I told my girlfriend I loved her watching the sunrise at 4,000 feet. Yeah and then I kissed her in SLOW MOTION as I listed my left wing up creating plane-shaped shadow on the fog below us. Yeah beat that.
This is a really good thing actually. Let's look at two functions. f(x)=slow motion moments only happen when you're life becomes cooler. And g(x)=I have a slow motion moment every couple months. Now if you take f(g(x)) you will find that my life becomes cooler every couple months. If I put this on a graph it may make more sense.
You know what's bullshit? Chipotle. I was at the movies with Karen on Saturday night and there was a very touching advertisement. It showed a single farmer struggling to make profits with his traditional farming techniques. Put to the music of Coldplay (the scientist), he takes a lot of the organic crap out and puts his cattle and plants on steroids and commercializes it all and it ruins his pastures . So he's depressed that his land is destroyed and replants his crops the traditional way and his greenery is restored and he's happy again. The moral of the advertisement is clear. And I was like "wow that's a really touching advertisement". Then the screen panned to a sign that said "Cultivate a better world. Chipotle." And that shit pisses me off. Like shut the fuck up Chipotle you don't do shit for the environment and you know it. Fuck you. You know who does good for the environment Chipotle? Boeing and Ge. They make machines that are necessary to the worlds infrastructure while BARELY harming the environment. What the fuck do you do Chipotle? You make food that makes people poop. That's what you do. Cultivate my dick Chipotle. Don't even talk to me.
I'm sorry to have to end off on a negative note. I unfortunately couldn't blog about everything that's been on my mind this week. There was simply too much material to cover in one post. I covered just over half of it. This means I will have to make more than one post a week and I am FINE with that. Enjoy the rest of your weekend everybody. I'm signing off.
By the way. I have one last little request. I want everyone who reads this blog... Actually no fuck that. I want more. I want everyone who knows me to associate me with palm trees, beaches, etc. Like I want my presence to be supplemented by thoughts of vacation and relaxing. I wear sunglasses on my head like all the time now, like that's my shit. I wanna get to the point where I can have a conversation with someone on a nice day, and due to my nature and the way I carry myself, they enjoy the rest of they're nice day MORE. Like the conversation they had with me enlightened them to the point it made them further realize the beauty of everyday things such as nice weather. Ok maybe this is a pretty big request, but I don't think I'm very far from it. It's also kinda arrogant. But idgaf.
Ok now I'm done expressing myslef. Until next time... :)
So surprisingly, last weeks post was in fact a record breaker. Weighing in at a total of over 1,500 words, it surpassed the previous record by a solid 150 words. Perhaps I am developing as a blogger. Perhaps...
I have some good topics lined up for this week of discussion, so I hope ALL of my readers enjoy, unfortunately I don't have very many readers. I just put on some confidence enhancing music (sexy and i know it), fuck yeah.
I wanna start by stating how much I look forward to posting in this blog. I mean it's all week I'm brainstorming ideas to talk about. This blog is my light at the end of the tunnel from a week long of work. My Friday routine hasn't changed much in the past couple months since it's conception. Class, workout, run around campus shirtless, blog. Done.
My nails are kinda long. I'm gonna trim them. Like right now.
Ok that's much better. So I just realized while clipping my nails, that this is the first time in my life which I spend more time with my girlfriend than my parents. I find that interesting. All the way up through your childhood, you are forced to spend more time with your parents than your bros or girlfriend. Now that's flipped on it's head. Now obviously I spend the most time with my bros right now, but the fact that I see my geef at least once a week, and my parents sometimes less than once a month. Shit, this kinda proves my childhood is over.
Speaking of my girlfriend, two weeks ago I blogged about having sex on a Friday at 7:30. Well last Friday I actually got to do it. If you read back two posts you will see my enthusiasm for a 1900 hookup. I was quite curious as to what would happen, cuz the 7:30 feeling is BTS, so if you have sex during it then what the fuck happens? Well I discovered the answer. NOTHING. NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED. Which is bullshit! I was expecting to be enlightened to the point of self actualization, I was expecting to see God! Maybe a natural high that lasted the whole weekend? NOPE! In fact all that happened is I became tired as shit and exhausted and fell asleep at like 9:00pm.
Wait a second. I just solved the problem. Ok, so 7:30 on a Friday is between classes and parties. And it's BTS. So if you actually introduce sex into the equation, the units cancel! The universe will actually restrict you from partying after having sex at 7:30, I suspect this is usually in the form of exhaustion. BUT!!! If you do introduce sex into the equation, and the universe restricts you from a party, then the actual, BTS moment would be in between classes and sex wouldn't it? Hmmmm... food for thought. I will have to study and experiment with this over the next couple of weeks. What would happen if you had sex at 7:30 but then forced yourself to go to a party? Would there be a way to "trick" the universe? Yeah. Mind=FUCKED.
Brb I'm gonna call Karen. Ok I'm back. And that took twenty minutes. I counted. Now I gotta pee.
Now I wanna share something with you that Doug told me. Put on some fucking vacation playlist, and do enjoy this segment. This quote made me smile ear to ear. It can be traced back to the reason Doug and I are the best inseparable friends possible. I plan to frame the quote with a palm tree relaxing back ground. I will then hang it up in my bedroom. If I move, the quote will move with me. It will follow me all the way to retirement. Doug said...
"Dude. When we get super old let's retire and move to Florida together. Roommates in a nice house down the street from the beach. We can do just nothing but enjoy cigars, cold beers, and wearing nice clothes. You can just always drive your boat around while I do nothing but fish and listen to music."
I literally got goosebumps when I retyped that in. This quote completely defines who Doug and I are. Palm trees, success and the sky. And cold beer. To think that our lives will converge upon our 60th birthday, and we will spend the rest of our days together doing nothing but relaxing and enjoying what makes us calm and happy. It will be a vacation.
But we can't do that until we finish our lives. Doug is moving forward to be a very successful musician. I am moving forward to be a very successful aviator. We must finish what we started before we get to the endless vacation. Even though we will work our asses off to accomplish such a level of success, it will be the bulk of our lives, and we simply can't "cut to the chase". But when I turn 60, on April 9th, 2053, and I move into that nice house by the beach, I'm going to play "Island in the Sun" everyday until I die. Believe it.
Ok picture this. You're life changes and suddenly becomes several times cooler. Let's say you move to Miami. You go to a club to celebrate this with your bros. You walk onto the dance floor, look around to see strobe lights, fog machines and lasers, girls half naked dancing and you take a sip of you redbull and vodka. I call this a slow motion moment. It's when your'e life instantly becomes much much cooler, time warps and you actually put into slow motion for a couple seconds. I call it a slow motion moment.
I have one like once every couple of months, I mean they're pretty rare. The last time I got one is at the Luau party on the first day at UK. Being laid to dubstep music having water sprayed on me with Tom Rupp with strobes and shit, made me realize I was in college and my life was really fucking cool, when I realized it I found myself in a trance and everything goes slow motion for like 3 seconds. It's fucking cool as shit. Like I'm not making this up. It's like being in a movie.
Other times my life has gotten cooler and I've had slow motion moments include when I helped Dani throw a super successful party, when I got my pilot's license and flew over my high school during school hours, and when I told my girlfriend I loved her watching the sunrise at 4,000 feet. Yeah and then I kissed her in SLOW MOTION as I listed my left wing up creating plane-shaped shadow on the fog below us. Yeah beat that.
This is a really good thing actually. Let's look at two functions. f(x)=slow motion moments only happen when you're life becomes cooler. And g(x)=I have a slow motion moment every couple months. Now if you take f(g(x)) you will find that my life becomes cooler every couple months. If I put this on a graph it may make more sense.
You know what's bullshit? Chipotle. I was at the movies with Karen on Saturday night and there was a very touching advertisement. It showed a single farmer struggling to make profits with his traditional farming techniques. Put to the music of Coldplay (the scientist), he takes a lot of the organic crap out and puts his cattle and plants on steroids and commercializes it all and it ruins his pastures . So he's depressed that his land is destroyed and replants his crops the traditional way and his greenery is restored and he's happy again. The moral of the advertisement is clear. And I was like "wow that's a really touching advertisement". Then the screen panned to a sign that said "Cultivate a better world. Chipotle." And that shit pisses me off. Like shut the fuck up Chipotle you don't do shit for the environment and you know it. Fuck you. You know who does good for the environment Chipotle? Boeing and Ge. They make machines that are necessary to the worlds infrastructure while BARELY harming the environment. What the fuck do you do Chipotle? You make food that makes people poop. That's what you do. Cultivate my dick Chipotle. Don't even talk to me.
I'm sorry to have to end off on a negative note. I unfortunately couldn't blog about everything that's been on my mind this week. There was simply too much material to cover in one post. I covered just over half of it. This means I will have to make more than one post a week and I am FINE with that. Enjoy the rest of your weekend everybody. I'm signing off.
By the way. I have one last little request. I want everyone who reads this blog... Actually no fuck that. I want more. I want everyone who knows me to associate me with palm trees, beaches, etc. Like I want my presence to be supplemented by thoughts of vacation and relaxing. I wear sunglasses on my head like all the time now, like that's my shit. I wanna get to the point where I can have a conversation with someone on a nice day, and due to my nature and the way I carry myself, they enjoy the rest of they're nice day MORE. Like the conversation they had with me enlightened them to the point it made them further realize the beauty of everyday things such as nice weather. Ok maybe this is a pretty big request, but I don't think I'm very far from it. It's also kinda arrogant. But idgaf.
Ok now I'm done expressing myslef. Until next time... :)
Friday, September 30, 2011
It's Friday AGAIN
What's up crew? It's Friday AGAIN and that means it's blog time. Thanks for reading.
First of all, I'd like to catch you up a little bit. This weekend instead of going out partying two nights in a row, I'm actually going home to visit la familia. It should be quite nice. I don't care how much of a pussy I sound like for saying it but I actually miss my parents and will enjoy spending time with them.
Ok the blinds are closed. Jamal (my dear roommate), why are the blinds closed? It's fucking depressing in this dorm... Brb I'm opening the blinds. Ahhh much nicer.
So it's interesting to think of the two parallel types of weekends: go home weekends, and stay here weekends. Going home weekends are kinda lame actually, but necessary as you can't party all the time. However then there are stay here weekends when you get out of class, play madden and chill with ya boys for like 7 hours, until 10:30 or so then you go out. And in between is blog time. Both weekend setups are quite beautiful. They embrace each of the two different aspects of your typical douchebag. The tender, soft, inside of the douchebag; which loves family and relaxing with dad. And the other which is the hardcore outside that gets pussy, shotguns beer, and just in general fucks shit up.
So I'm gonna switch gears here a little bit and let you in on a little experimentation I've been doing. Since I have all week to harbor my thoughts before releasing them onto my blog, I've taken the time to write down a few blog topics to expand upon on come Friday. The theory is that my blog posts will be developed and more entertaining to read. So we'll give it a shot this week and see how it goes. It may turn out horrible and look like a term paper that no one wants to read. We shall find out. Another thing I would like to do is write until the coffee is gone. I have neatly prepared two cups of coffee for today's blog-composing. I shall not stop writing until every drop is consumed.
And this coffee's good as shit by the way.
So I noticed on Wednesday of this week something about college that I think is incorrectly perceived. All summer up until college I heard about nonstop how college changes people, and will change me. College is an environment of freedom where you could do ANYTHING. You can apply yourself and succeed, you can party your ass off and drop out, you can do whatever the fuck you want. But after spending just a month here, I deem the theory incorrect. Thesis time bitch.
Although I do believe that people can/do change, frequently at that, college does not at all change you. Instead, college brings out parts of you that have been dormant for parts of, or even your whole life. It's difficult to describe, and difficult to find examples of. After a month of college, I party about five times as much as high school, I work out about five times harder than high school, and I study about five times harder than high school. But I still would never cheat on my girlfriend, I still would never do drugs or take similar risks, and I still treat life like a vacation. College has not changed me a bit, but it has brought out and amplified certain aspects of me, while even further signifying the importance of other aspects. Some people let they're partying take over. They've always had the partying in them, but college yanked it into dominance and it now runs their life. Cite that shit I'm fucking right and you know it.
Weekends here are different. Yeah I know all through high school, and even on this blog especially I joked about weekends starting on Thursday's after all your non-fun shit is done, and yeah that's whatever. But this is now set in stone. Now, it is common knowledge, law if you will, that weekends start on Thursday. Jamal goes out every Thursday night while I do about 2-3 hours of chemistry. Which is fine with me because I want a good grade on chemistry more than I want to get shitty on a Thursday. I think I talked about this last Friday.
But even if I don't go out on Thursday nights, the spirit of the weekend is still alive. Being around people who are getting ready to party is actually mood-lifting, even while you gotta do work. I have to pee so fucking bad brb. Ok. Shit. So yeah it's 11:30pm and I'm on question 19 on chemistry, confused as fuck, just trying. When what do I hear? I hear "One big room, full of bad bitches" from down the hall. I peak my head out the door to see the commotion and it it's my floor having a good time. Ok I don't know why people hate being around others having fun while they aren't. It's selfish. Yeah, misery loves company, but in this sense, I'd rather do chemistry homework while surrounded by gentlemen who are happy about their Thursday night. So yes. Weekends start on Thursday night, even if I don't participate in the "festivities".
I live stress-free. All the time. Even when I'm stressed, it's just a facade, deep down I don't give a shit. This comes from my roots, of being from Miami; so close to the Keys, I've developed the quality of not becoming stressed easily. This is why on important tests, I do two things.
The first is rooted in tradition, I've been doing it for almost a year. After finishing a test, I take at least a minute to draw a nice palm tree on the back of the test. This lightens everything up. The stressed TA's grading the test see the palm tree and smile. The stressed sorority chick next to me who didn't study and is trying to cheat off me see's the palm tree and smiles. And lastly, and most importantly it effects me. I see the palm tree twice for each exam. I see it first when I draw it, and it calms my nerves as I review my answers. Then I see it again when I get the graded test back two weeks later. I first look at my grade and appreciate it. Then I turn the exam to the back side and see my palm tree I drew two weeks prior and again, I just calm down. The palm tree is the official logo of William Decker Loyd. It has vacational properties that yin-yangs and shit can't match. Hence the reason I draw it on my exams.
The second is a more recent movement. I wear sunglasses on top of my head while taking the exam. It's becoming something like a good luck charm. The sunglasses remind me where I came from, what I stand for, and where I'm going. It does a good deal of subconscious priming to boost my performance on my exam (DeSantis 2011). OMG I have to pee AGAIN. Brb. Back, anyway... Moving on.
That about concludes my post. This may be the longest post to date, which implies that my tactics for increasing thought and development and length for my posts have worked. But there's still one topic I'd like to discuss and I have about half a cup of coffee left. Actually I have two more topics cuz I just thought of one.
First and foremost, as I listen to the song "Welcome to My Hood' , I like to think of South Campus of UK my "hood". It's not a "hood" in the sense of cops busting pot dealers and welfare shit and whatever. It's not a hood in the sense of rappers spitting on top of shitty cars, no that's not what it's about. My hood is where there are hot girls in yoga pants. EVERYWHERE. My hood is a place where on a Friday afternoon you can run around shirtless and you will be praised for your sculpted core. On a Saturday night you can return to your hood at 3am drunk as Charlie Sheen and you will be considered to be in the "normal" group. We party. We work. And me and my boys run it.
One last comment before I depart. Earlier this post I was talking about the two different weekend types. This observation may be biased, as I don't read my posts after posting them, but I believe that blogposts on "party weekends" are a lot douchier and cockier and just obnoxious by nature compared to the more formal and thought provoking "going home weekend" posts. Food for thought.
Ok I'm out. Time to go home. But first I have to call this fucking xbox repair center because they charged me and saying they didn't charge me. BULLSHIT. Ugh. Until next Friday...have a good week
First of all, I'd like to catch you up a little bit. This weekend instead of going out partying two nights in a row, I'm actually going home to visit la familia. It should be quite nice. I don't care how much of a pussy I sound like for saying it but I actually miss my parents and will enjoy spending time with them.
Ok the blinds are closed. Jamal (my dear roommate), why are the blinds closed? It's fucking depressing in this dorm... Brb I'm opening the blinds. Ahhh much nicer.
So it's interesting to think of the two parallel types of weekends: go home weekends, and stay here weekends. Going home weekends are kinda lame actually, but necessary as you can't party all the time. However then there are stay here weekends when you get out of class, play madden and chill with ya boys for like 7 hours, until 10:30 or so then you go out. And in between is blog time. Both weekend setups are quite beautiful. They embrace each of the two different aspects of your typical douchebag. The tender, soft, inside of the douchebag; which loves family and relaxing with dad. And the other which is the hardcore outside that gets pussy, shotguns beer, and just in general fucks shit up.
So I'm gonna switch gears here a little bit and let you in on a little experimentation I've been doing. Since I have all week to harbor my thoughts before releasing them onto my blog, I've taken the time to write down a few blog topics to expand upon on come Friday. The theory is that my blog posts will be developed and more entertaining to read. So we'll give it a shot this week and see how it goes. It may turn out horrible and look like a term paper that no one wants to read. We shall find out. Another thing I would like to do is write until the coffee is gone. I have neatly prepared two cups of coffee for today's blog-composing. I shall not stop writing until every drop is consumed.
And this coffee's good as shit by the way.
So I noticed on Wednesday of this week something about college that I think is incorrectly perceived. All summer up until college I heard about nonstop how college changes people, and will change me. College is an environment of freedom where you could do ANYTHING. You can apply yourself and succeed, you can party your ass off and drop out, you can do whatever the fuck you want. But after spending just a month here, I deem the theory incorrect. Thesis time bitch.
Although I do believe that people can/do change, frequently at that, college does not at all change you. Instead, college brings out parts of you that have been dormant for parts of, or even your whole life. It's difficult to describe, and difficult to find examples of. After a month of college, I party about five times as much as high school, I work out about five times harder than high school, and I study about five times harder than high school. But I still would never cheat on my girlfriend, I still would never do drugs or take similar risks, and I still treat life like a vacation. College has not changed me a bit, but it has brought out and amplified certain aspects of me, while even further signifying the importance of other aspects. Some people let they're partying take over. They've always had the partying in them, but college yanked it into dominance and it now runs their life. Cite that shit I'm fucking right and you know it.
Weekends here are different. Yeah I know all through high school, and even on this blog especially I joked about weekends starting on Thursday's after all your non-fun shit is done, and yeah that's whatever. But this is now set in stone. Now, it is common knowledge, law if you will, that weekends start on Thursday. Jamal goes out every Thursday night while I do about 2-3 hours of chemistry. Which is fine with me because I want a good grade on chemistry more than I want to get shitty on a Thursday. I think I talked about this last Friday.
But even if I don't go out on Thursday nights, the spirit of the weekend is still alive. Being around people who are getting ready to party is actually mood-lifting, even while you gotta do work. I have to pee so fucking bad brb. Ok. Shit. So yeah it's 11:30pm and I'm on question 19 on chemistry, confused as fuck, just trying. When what do I hear? I hear "One big room, full of bad bitches" from down the hall. I peak my head out the door to see the commotion and it it's my floor having a good time. Ok I don't know why people hate being around others having fun while they aren't. It's selfish. Yeah, misery loves company, but in this sense, I'd rather do chemistry homework while surrounded by gentlemen who are happy about their Thursday night. So yes. Weekends start on Thursday night, even if I don't participate in the "festivities".
I live stress-free. All the time. Even when I'm stressed, it's just a facade, deep down I don't give a shit. This comes from my roots, of being from Miami; so close to the Keys, I've developed the quality of not becoming stressed easily. This is why on important tests, I do two things.
The first is rooted in tradition, I've been doing it for almost a year. After finishing a test, I take at least a minute to draw a nice palm tree on the back of the test. This lightens everything up. The stressed TA's grading the test see the palm tree and smile. The stressed sorority chick next to me who didn't study and is trying to cheat off me see's the palm tree and smiles. And lastly, and most importantly it effects me. I see the palm tree twice for each exam. I see it first when I draw it, and it calms my nerves as I review my answers. Then I see it again when I get the graded test back two weeks later. I first look at my grade and appreciate it. Then I turn the exam to the back side and see my palm tree I drew two weeks prior and again, I just calm down. The palm tree is the official logo of William Decker Loyd. It has vacational properties that yin-yangs and shit can't match. Hence the reason I draw it on my exams.
The second is a more recent movement. I wear sunglasses on top of my head while taking the exam. It's becoming something like a good luck charm. The sunglasses remind me where I came from, what I stand for, and where I'm going. It does a good deal of subconscious priming to boost my performance on my exam (DeSantis 2011). OMG I have to pee AGAIN. Brb. Back, anyway... Moving on.
That about concludes my post. This may be the longest post to date, which implies that my tactics for increasing thought and development and length for my posts have worked. But there's still one topic I'd like to discuss and I have about half a cup of coffee left. Actually I have two more topics cuz I just thought of one.
First and foremost, as I listen to the song "Welcome to My Hood' , I like to think of South Campus of UK my "hood". It's not a "hood" in the sense of cops busting pot dealers and welfare shit and whatever. It's not a hood in the sense of rappers spitting on top of shitty cars, no that's not what it's about. My hood is where there are hot girls in yoga pants. EVERYWHERE. My hood is a place where on a Friday afternoon you can run around shirtless and you will be praised for your sculpted core. On a Saturday night you can return to your hood at 3am drunk as Charlie Sheen and you will be considered to be in the "normal" group. We party. We work. And me and my boys run it.
One last comment before I depart. Earlier this post I was talking about the two different weekend types. This observation may be biased, as I don't read my posts after posting them, but I believe that blogposts on "party weekends" are a lot douchier and cockier and just obnoxious by nature compared to the more formal and thought provoking "going home weekend" posts. Food for thought.
Ok I'm out. Time to go home. But first I have to call this fucking xbox repair center because they charged me and saying they didn't charge me. BULLSHIT. Ugh. Until next Friday...have a good week
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