The Laws of Contradiction of Matter

So, here I sit at the edge of another semester. It hardly went as planned. I changed my career goal again, failed two classes, and I don't have another example of how this semester failed. All in all, it is like school didn't even happen this semester.

I woke up with a song stuck in my head a few days ago, and it was still there when I went to sleep that night. Now I can not remember what it was. I think my brain is purging old pop-culture information to make room for punctuation and grammar rules or something. Help me get away from myself.

I may have another job coming up for Christmas break at the UNCW bookstore. I had an interview this morning, but the interviewer was really difficult to read, so I don't really know how it went. If I do get the job, Christmas will come for more of my friends this year. If not, there will be no Christmas at all for anybody ever again until I have $10, 000,000. I am holding Christmas ransom, and the sad thing is, I bet somebody would pay.

Corporate America has both amazed and disappointed me this past week. First, I discovered a beverage at Starbuck's which I believe can both regenerate skin cells lost from burns and solve the whole problem with Pres. Bush, Iraq, Gas, Camel Spiders, And Irrational Capitalization. (Hey kids, it's dual intentional!) The drink is called Chantico. It is eight ounces of hot, melted chocolate. It is thick and creamy and delightful and causes hallucinations in children under the age of two. (Maybe.) The disappointment comes from the new way businesses are referring to the holidays: Chrismikka. It does sound neat, just pops right off of the tonsils, unless you don't have any. The effect of calling it Chrismikka is that the religious aspect of the holiday is removed, rendering it celebratable (It is a word, I just said it!) by even those who are not religious. That's cool and all, people can celebrate whatever they want, I don't care. But the goal of the stores is to make more money off of the public by giving them more reasons to buy things. It promoted greed, materialism, and selfishness, which are not good no matter which, if any, religious group you belong to. The stores are not trying to be all inclusive and make the holidays more enjoyable for everybody, they are promoting social greed to fuel their own corporate greed.

I am, again, putting off a paper by posting this blahg. I really do not want to write this paper, it is a reflection paper for a class I did not enjoy very mucho at all. I do not wish to reflect on the class, I wish to forget about it and move on. Hey, my dad and his boat pals won best power boat over 26' at the Wrightsville beach floatilla this saturday. We got braggin rights this year son! Really, they always win that crap. Like for the past ten years or something. Can nobody festoon a boat with sixty miles of flashing lights and robotic reindeer anymore? Where has our society gone? But I digress. Man, that class stinks!

So, I am done for today. Who knows when you may hear from me again. This may be that last post, for tomorrow is not promised and my life may end at any second. Take heart though, for the delete key on this keyboard does not work.

What has that got to do with anything?

The sequence has been initiated

It's a continuation. I had a class so I could not finish the last one. By the way, if you have never been to mcsweeneys.net, go there. Because I'm your mother that's why.

For my creative writing class, I had to write a seven page non-fiction piece to be workshopped. Awkward sentence, meet apathetic writer. I chose to write about my marriage and upcoming one year anniversary. It was no sweat writing it, as I have been planning on doing it eventually, but not for class. The problem was length. I had to leave a lot of issues undiscussed and a lot of questions unanswered to fit it in seven pages. All in all I was proud of my work. The problem arose during workshop. Nobody wanted to discuss my writing, only the events and relationships in my life. It turned in to a lengthy series of personal questions involving my relationships with my mother, my father, my wife, her father, and myself. Most of the questions were not that bad, but then they just got away from the piece entirely and sliced into childhood experiences and deep seeded feelings. I faced the conundrum of either being a kill joy and stopping the questions or just sucking it up and taking them as they came. I compromised with myself and just gave ambiguous answers to too-personal questions and ended it by giving an answer to a question that the entire class uncomfortable. It really bothered me that my writing was cast aside in order to allow ten people to dissect my personal life. It's like going into a coffee shop, ordering a cup of coffee, drinking it, then raping the waitress.

Excuse my language, it is but a quote. There stood a girl on a sidewalk, holding a bicycle upright and staring at me. I wondered, what is she doing? I looked away, then looked back to see her still staring. For about a minute or so, which is a long time to be stared at by a stranger, of looking back and forth to check if she was still staring (which she was. I mean she just stared for like, two minutes), she yelled at me, "What the fuck are you staring at, you dumb bitch?" Just thought I would share that with you guys. I don't think most people realize that in order to notice that someone is looking at you, you have to look at them. Don't get mad at people for looking at you, it is ridiculous.

My parents are having golden corral bourbon street chicken for thanksgiving, instead of turkey. Wild Turkey is a kind of bourbon. Bourbon is a street in New Orleans. There is a town outside New Orleans called Thibodaux. My wife is going to spend spring break in Thibodaux without me. But she will be at thanksgiving with my parents and me. We are having bourbon street chicken from golden corral. It's a small world.

Homonyms are fun! Cats hack up their fur with their mouths, I hack up cats' fur with a machete.

I've got a rumbly in my tumbly and no food at my abode. That, my children, is slant rhyme. I honestly do not know what is going on about 60% of the time. In lieu of a question, advice: Don't hack up your fingers with a box cutter.

S'mores is a delicious contraction.

What is it? It's a title that actually has something to do with the blahg entry. It is also a giant pane of glass, presumably for a tabletop, that I found by the dumpster where I take my dog to poop. It is about three and a half feet wide by seven feet long, half and inch thick, beveled, and tempered. New, a furniature store could easily get about $200 for it. It took about an hour to actually get the thing inside my house, it is huge and heavy. I wanted to put it upstairs in my office, but I alone can not get it up the stairs. I spent another hour yester moring trying, but then decided that it would look better downstairs in the living room. How many of you can say that you have a giant glass area rug in your living room. I just decided to change the title of this entry, so the first three sentances will no longer make sense. The origional title was, "It weighs like, 300 pounds!"

I decided to write a story about my glass and the bond I formed with it. It is like the Lord of the Rings, but with a 300 pound peice of glass. Same plot and everything, but it never gets out of the Shire because it weighs so damn much. There will also be a prequil, describing how Bilbo Baggins manages to get the monstrosity to the shire in the first place. Wheels or something. It's turning out to be kind of weak. There will be a meeting.

What's in your wallet?

Now it's time to ramble on

I can never go home. I returned to Shallotte to visit some friends, and in the process realized that I am never going to be able to return to the places where I felt most at home. Mr. Jim's has been gutted out. I looked inside the window at the store where I put in over a year of my life and saw that the walk in, oven and everything else is gone. And it will never be back. Mr. Jim's is dead now. I don't think anybody understands how heartbreaking that is. And the trailer where my wife and I lived for the first six months of out marriage. No place has ever felt more like home, and though it still stands, I can't go back. Even if I could, it would not be the same house. Same goes for my room at my parents' house. I never realized that I had such affection for Shallotte, and now it has been ripped away. And I did it to myself. I have so many memories and good times there and I will never be able to live like that again. Everyone has moved on. Shallotte is growing and changing every day. If I go back twenty years from now, shallotte as I knew it will be as faded and distorted as my memories will be by then.

Some people can go home. They could move back in with their parents and resume working at their first favorite job. Mine is gone. My parents' house is still there, but most everything else is gone. And I know that I may at some point forge an attatchment like that to Wilmington, but I'll have to leave that before too long as well.

On a more buoyant note, the semester is winding down. I'll get some time to breathe in a few weeks. They're going to start paying people to kill coyotes in Brunswick county, so I'm gonna kill one over winter break. And I found out that if I set my alarm clock to radio I am more likely to actually get up when it goes off.

That's all for today, I guess. Just wanted to write about my first bout of homesickness. Where is home for you?

Again, not so much.

So, I am still procrastinating. I did manage to get done all but one of my papers, and it is one that I did not mention in the last post. I realized today that i don't really know what is going on at all. I had actual things I wanted to write about, but now I can not remember them.

I can not seem to grasp the difference between affect and effect. Whose idea was that anyway?

Mints are delicious.

I can not dance at all. Slow dancing does not count. Even If I could dance, I would not in public.

If you haven't noticed, I am just attempting to waste some time.

Le Cachalot is French for sperm whale. Whose idea was it to call it a sperm whale? Talk about an ox, you moron!

I guess I'll get back to work, as I can not remember any of the actual profound thoughts I was holding on to.

How do I post pictures?

Missouri in my mouth

I am only posting right now to procrastinate. I have four papers I need to type today and tomorrow, totaling a minimum of seventeen pages. One of them is in French and two of them are for the same class. The other one I actually want to write, as it is a creative nonfiction exersize for creative writing, but I fear that all of my creative energies will be sapped by the time I get to it. All around me I see people writing their papers, getting their stuff done and I sit here drowning in a sea of assignments without even attempting to swim. And it's not really that funny. The paper I have to write for French, I wrote friday. Then upon arriving in class, I found that there were actual guidelines for the paper which I did not read beforehand. Now, I have to write a whole nother paper. Negative amigo.

There is a bicycle gang or something like that downtown and it congregates around the soapbox. I may have already lost some of you, but that does not really concern me. When I drive past this gang, which I have named "Spokesbox" they all ding their little bike bells at me. I must then ding mine in return. I have the dorkiest bell on the planet. 'Nuff said.

Oh, la la la la la la la la la! Don't wanna do my papers, don't wanna read my articles, don't wanna load the dishwasher or take out the garbage! (Give it your own tune!) Don't wanna work for money or pay my stinkin' bills. I just wanna write some stuff and get my dog wasted on pills. Yeah!

My French professor, who is very French and like me does not watch televison except for movies, made an unexpected referance to the Matrix. It surpirzed me, it seemed out of character for her to do that. We were discussing dissention in America and France and she said, "Do you want to take the blue pill or the red pill?" I pondered why such a deep and pensive person would make such a referance, then I realized that it is a common and profound principle which applies to all of our lives. Like my marriage for example. By getting married I took the blue pill (or red, I haven't seen the movie in a while). I started a whole new life in a completely different world and there is no turning back. I could very well have taken the other pill and stayed with my parents and never known the whole experience that is college age marriage. But I would not trade it for anything. So I'm here to tell you not to ba affraid to take the blue (or red, whichever one causes irreversable chance) pill and just sit back and enjoy the ride.

Little known fact about me, while we're on the topic of pills. I used to take Ambien a lot. It gives one the feeling of being extremely drunk without vomiting or a hangover. I'm not sure if it is bad for you, but I quit taking them years ago.

Dumptrucks in the morning! Also meant to be sung. Or snug if you are uncomfortable with your singing voice. Or signing. Sung snug singing signing. Procrastination.

Anybody wanna write some papers for me?

Prints to Green

So I'm a gonna register for da classes lata on today. I am looking forward to next semester a lot more than I was this one. I am going to take Geography, The first in a series of Creative Nonfiction courses, Technical Writing, Early American Lit., and Women's Studies. They are all courses I want to take, believe it or not.

This semester is winding down and I only have a few things left before a full month of Christmassy breakiness. The wife has a lot more to do before the semester is out and I greatly admire her abitlity to get it all done. She is majoring in Social Work and double minoring in Psychology and Spanish. Kudos to the Wife!

The bike rickshaw business is as dead as Orson. I was sick last weekend and thus was unable to work, but the days I did wotk last week were ultra lame. Gotta keep the old head up and be positive. Because of this job, I've been hit on by more drunk skanks that I can remember and met my first drag queen. And I've lost like 15 pounds in two weeks. Some would say that's a bit unhealthy, but I have to disagree: It's really really unhealthy. Kids, don't try this at home.

A coworker of mine's daughter was sexually assaulted at a high school basketball game. I found another reason to become a vigilanti mass murderer. For Justice! To compound my waning opinion of the human race, another coworker, upon hearing the news, asked: Was he black or Mexican? 'Cause you know us whities aren't capable of hurting eachother. He was white, by the way.

In my PE Lecture, I act like I am taking notes while I am actually writing pointless drivel. I have six solid pages now. After the semester is over, those pages will appear here, on my little blog. I am really excited about it. Yeah for drivel notes. Horrah.

I attended an extremely depressing baby shower Sunday. The most depressing part was watching the mother to be smoke about half a pack of cigarettes in the four hours I was there. I lost the don't say "Baby" game and found that barbecue sauce tastes terrible on a croissant. I met a homeschooled high school student. He was incredibly bright, but literally everything he knew about the world came from a text book. He could have been a male model. He doesn't know what Marijuana is. Why would anybody do that to their child? Why, I ask, why!?

This entry seems to be getting a bit lengthy, so I'll cut it short and just try to post more often. 'Cause don't get me wrong, I got more to say. All these short little disconnected paragraphs could be entries by themselves if offered my full elaborate analysis. No, the questions aren't rhetorical. Or maybe they are. Maybe...

Why would a semi run a red light?

I guess that's what I get

Here we go boys and girls. I guess I will make Tuesday my regular posting day, as I have posted every Tuesday for the past three weeks. There will be a meeting and I will make no calls on this issue.

I started my new second job this weekend as a bicycle rickshaw driver downtown. I made pretty good money and is really was not that hard. I have a few bones to pick with the general public, though. First, no man, no matter what age or race, likes to be called boy. It is degrading and it makes the man feel about as tall as this: !. I don't care if they are only there as a service to the public, do not call them boy. I was called boy more times this weekend than in any other isolated incident in my life. Second, if somebody carries you on a bicycle five blocks and you weigh more than 150 pounds, tip them! Apparently, there is some town somewhere that teaches its inhabitants that it is okay to stiff people who bust their butts to help others get where they are going.

I picked up a group of four people Saturday night in my cab and carried them to a bar. Two of the three got out and went to one bar while I carried the last girl to her bar. She was irrevocably and non-humorously drunk. She kept saying that she loved me and that she normally likes chubby guys but I will work fine. She was wearing some kind of slutty miniskirt cat or devil costume. She said hey, check this out. So I looked back and she had her legs spread wide open where I would have had a lovely view of her feminine area had she not been wearing tights. Who is that drunk before they even get to the bar?

That event caused me to ponder the invention of the skirt. It is in essence a very sexist piece of clothing. It's like some guy thousands of years ago just decided that women should have an easy access flap instead of something that could actually keep their legs warm. I have to wonder why women continue to wear such a degrading and gender suppressing article.

I was unable to commit to my two week starvation period. I forgot to stop eating on the twentieth and have been too active lately to attempt to rob my body of nutrients. I will try some other, less harmful, means of self deprivation and attempt the starvation thing at some more sensible time. When is a sensible time to starve one's self for two weeks?

I have classes to pick, papers to write, books to read, and a species to impress. I have no thought provoking question for you this week, but that's cool because nobody responded to any of the previous ones anyway.

Why not?