The strange kid in class.

No, we're not talking about me (even though last week in one of my classes my leg fell asleep and when I stood up I immediately fell on the floor). A word of warning to the easily offended: I am about to divulge to you my impressions of this poor lad as I've seen him so far. Some of the things I say will not be pleasing to the senses, and at times they will be tinged with a noticeable amount of unabashed antipathy. Were I a better writer (or, arguably, a better person) I would be able to eliminate these brash sentiments completely from my prose. However, I'm not, nor do I plan on becomming any better than I already am (think how hard that would be for me anyway!) so please, if you prefer not to read the only slightly less than objective observations I am about to make, please feel free to scan down a post and read my feelings on my brother turning seventeen and how this effects me (a subjective post if I've ever written one!)

Now, for those of you with stronger dispositions than those who are currently reading about my little brother's birthday, I am about to impart to you not a tale, but rather a series of random observations about a gentleman who is in my Harry Potter class. If you would instead prefer to read a story with a nice, easy to follow narrative, please accept my invitation to put this post out of your mind and scan down two posts to read about the charming circumstances under which I made myself a new dwarven friend.

For the rest of you who are neither reading about my regrets in light of my brother's entering into a world when nothing is impossible nor about poor little Level-Seven Peter, I consider it only appropriate that you now discover why I am devoting an entire post to this one person who I have never met personally but have observed from distances as close as two feet. The fellow's name is D---- V--- (name hidden to protect the innocent, namely myself, in the miraculous event that he should stumble across this lowly, petty post on my lowly, petty blog), and he is quite arguably the most eccentric member of our species that I have ever encountered.

D---- V--- looks normal enough on first glance -- picture a younger, more gaunt-faced Rick Moranis with trendier glasses. Upon closer examination, however, you notice that several things are completely amiss with Mr. V---. His fingernails are beautiful, or at least they would be were they the fingernails of a woman; they are long -- and I say this with the assumption that you know how I am known to let my nails get fairly long -- but these nails... my God. I don't know that I've ever seen such nails on a black man, a homeless person, or a woman.

When he walks into class each afternoon, he immediately speaks his mind on a certain subject. Loudly.

Monday: "My GAWD these desks are poorly arranged today!"
Wednesday: "My GAWD it is always so terribly quiet in here! It's like we're a bunch of literature majors or something!"

After making these incendiary proclamiations, D---- will sit down, usually in the front (if there is a front -- there wasn't on Monday because the desks really were poorly arranged) and begin talking to the nearest girl. Whether he only talks to girls on purpose or as a result of the fact that there are only about five other guys in the class, I cannot say, but that is not the creepy part. After asking their name followed by a series of random questions ("Wendy, If you could be any superhero, who would you be and why?" "What is your favorite Italian dish, Wendy?" "Is Wendy your real name, or is it a pen name that sounded a bit better than your real name?"), he quits the interrogation and waits patiently for the class to begin (and it almost immediately does because he usually gets there late and the teacher ends up waiting for him to finish up investigations so that she (our normal professor is on a brief excursion at the moment) can start the class). As the class begins, he writes in his notebook the name of the girl he spoke to as well as the name of the girl sitting next to him if he can see her name written in her notebook, monogrammed on her backpack, or anywhere else halfway inconspicuous.

After this, D----'s actions become a bit more unpredictable. Today, for example, D---- was wearing flip flops, and as our surrogate professor (the wife of our normal professor) discussed the plan for today's class, our hero removed his right flip flop, propped his foot on top of his left knee, and began to pick at something on one of his toes. At this point I couldn't help but stare in disbelief. Neither could our poor substitute professor. Fortunately, he eventually quit the habit and returned his bare, freshly picked foot to the floor.

This for me answered the long-standing question of why we can't have food or drink in room 017 in the English/Counseling Services building. In fact, it put it out of my mind completely.

Happy Birthday, David.

Today's my baby brother's 17th birthday. It's kind of got me freaking out a little... but only a little, and I'm sure it's nothing I won't get over in a day or two.

I will say that my little brother has become quite the interesting member of the family. He is an avid player of that ancient (Japanese?) tile game, Mah Jong -- apparently he stays after school most nights, sometimes till almost 10:00pm -- playing with his group of friends which is as varied as his lowly peers to the principal of Olathe North High School himself - and everything in between. He goes out to dinner with these friends at small places downtown that no one's ever heard of but probably should hear of because they're usually better - or at least more exciting - than all the restaurant chains in the Johnson County area. Then there's the fact that he's going on a trip to Japan this summer...

I think of how different his situation is from mine at age 17. Not that I have any regrets... maybe a few, but nothing that most people my age don't regret... like I wish I would have filled out on more application or tried a little harder to get better grades or hung out with a few more people... ANYWAY!

David, if you read this, I do have your present. I just don't know when it's going to get to you, and I apologize for that.

Shortcomings

I made a new friend today. He's a dwarf named Peter. I shit you not, I met a dwarf.

I was sitting there on the patio at Chipotle when out struts this two foot-four little man, and he looks up at me and smiles. I smile back and say, "hey," which I sometimes do and sometimes do not do, and he responded similarly, adding only, "Mind if I sit here?" At this point, as you are no doubt aware -- any of you who know me at all outside of this forum -- I'm freaking out. Somehow, though, probably because it's a fucking beatiful day and I'm all full of brotherly love and fanfare for the common man, I say "sure." So he sits down -- if you can call it sitting down, really it's more like climbing up -- into his chair. He has a beer and a burrito and I immediately wonder 1) is he really going to eat an entire Chipotle burrito and 2) how drunk is he going to get off this one beer.

At this point I'd go into the particulars of the conversation, except I don't want to bore you with all that. Instead I'll skip to the point where my questions are answered: 1) no and 2) very. So my new intoxicated dwarf friend Peter says to me, "What would you call me?" and I say, "What do you mean?" laughing, of course, to cover my confusion. "I mean, what am I?" he says, looking at me in a way only a drunken dwarf can. "A midget, I guess?" and then Peter rolls his eyes and puts his face in his hand. "Fucking people." "What!" I say, "I dunno, what was I supposed to say?!" "Dwarf!" he says. "People like me are called dwarves." He tells me that "dwarf" is the scientific term for a person with the condition of "dwarfism" and that "midget" is actually something viewed by the dwarf comunity as a very derogatory term. I look at him oddly and question him, saying how I think of "midget" as a much less derogatory term than "dwarf" which to me implies that he's a character in some nerdy RPG game or sci-fi fantasy novel. He says flat out that I'm wrong, and as a result of this and our now very chummy repartee, I call him a "level-seven" dwarf -- much to his groaning, of course. We left on good terms, agreeing to keep in Christmas card contact at the very least, though I plan on calling him for the next gathering at the apartment, which is looking to be either the Super Bowl, V-day, or the 3rd Annual Oscar Party.

Anyway, it was pretty much the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me. He's a real trip, that level-seven dwarf friend of mine.

"Why does It hate us? Why is It so mean?"

Ah, Bev. You've unwittingly tapped.... something. That sentence was going to be a lot more "brilliant" sounding, but then I realized that I don't have a vocabulary that I can easily pull the correct words from, especially not at 3:20ish.

Watched "It" today. Yup. Three hours of my life that I'll never get back.

I also got bookends for my overflowing DVD collection, and I got my brother's birthday present (he turns 17 on Tuesday). There are some new pictures from Goblet of Fire online. Not that impressive, but still pretty exciting.

I've been in a bad mood the past couple of days -- hopefully I get over it soon! I think I'm in one of my "fucking sick of being alone" periods. Damn them.

I went ahead and did you a favor in purchasing and trying those Strawberry Cream Kisses you've been wondering about since you saw them hit the shelves a few weeks ago. They're interesting, though not in a good way. Plus they make my room smell girly, and if you've seen my room, you know that we don't need to invite the comparison.

I'm getting pretty fed up with my apartment, while we're on that subject. I can't wait until I have a real job and real money and can afford real, nice stuff instead of the cheap shit that I have that falls apart. I also can't wait until I am only cleaning up after myself. I think I'll be a much nicer person.

Tomorrow there are several things that I must do, and they include laundry, reading for class, grocery shopping, room-straightening, and Arrested Development/Desperate Housewives. I am going to bed.

The things we say without speaking.

"Since we both have some free time, would you like to watch this movie that I think is good and that I think you'd enjoy, in some small way affirming our friendship?"

"No, I'd rather sit here as I do during most of my waking life and spend hours watching a random mess of TV, most of which I've already seen before, and then later feel disappointed with the way that I spend my time."

What the crap?

Man I just got home and now I'm wiped! I really don't have much to say but feel like posting anyway because, well, because I'm a nerd.

So here, without any further adieu (is that how that expression's written out?), is a gift from my dear friend Katie:

Napoleon Dynamite reading Letterman's Top Ten

Silly Syllabi

I love to hate (hate to love?) syllabi that show me everything I will have to read, every assignment I will have to complete, every paper I have to force myself to write over the course of the entire semester. On one hand, it allows me the chance to actually get ahead. This would be nice if I weren't a procrastinator. As I am, however, a put-it-off-until-the-last-possible-minute-and-skip-class-if-I-don't-get-it-done-and-take-the-B-and-smile kind of guy, these types of syllabi do nothing for me other than make me feel at once overwhelmed and extremely guilty for not being more punctual in my assignment completion.

I am attempting right now to be better than myself... I'm read up for both of my classes on Wednesday, working to get ready for tomorrow's one class (I read, but forgot we have all these damn worksheets over the reading) and thinking about reading for my one-night-a-week class. I have so much damned reading... it's overwhelming. Secretly, though, I like it. I like it a lot.

A brief note about the stain in my bed.

You all would love it if you had a friend who actually enjoyed the tedious process of doing his laundry. Maybe you actually do have a friend like that, and to him I say "cheers" and to you, "congratulations". Unfortunately, that friend isn't me.

No, my dear friends, I do not enjoy doing laundry, and so when you walk into my fairly small bedroom and notice piles of clothing on the floor, don't try to convince yourself they are clean because I am, on the whole, a clean person. They're not.

There IS a stain on my sheets, a stain that bears an unfortunate resemblence to one that might be found betwixt the sheets of either a scab-picker, a menstruating woman, or an incontinent old man and/or child. Rest assured, my friends, that none of these is the actual case. The stain is, in fact, the product of careless chocolate ice cream eating on the part of my friend Tim and myself on a particularly boring night several days ago.

Unsightly as it is, it is really nothing to be worried about; I'd gladly lay my head next to a stain primarily comprised of milk, sugar, and chocolate PRE-digestion rather than one comprised of all those things POST-digestion. As such, I'm not too worried about it.

Get excited!

I'm posting! Hooray! When asked why it's been so long since I last posted my blog, I shrug and make an indecipherable grunting noise, similar but not identical to the noise made by a walrus as at emerges from the frosty ocean onto the rocky... I dunno. I can't find the word, so I'm done.

God (or 'Gawd') there's so much to tell I don't even know where to begin. First, and probably most hefty, I finally had my last first day of school. I will now give you the final rundown of the four classes that conclude my undergraduate career (and educational career for now at least):

Harry Potter's Library MWF 12:30-1:20pm: This is the class that, as many of you know (or should be able to figure out) I was most excited to be in. And so far it hasn't disappointed. At the moment, however, it is not only the most fun, but also the most difficult class I'm involved in, due in no small part to the significant amount of reading we are to have completed by each class period (100-200 pages a day). The professor, Philip Nel, seems as enthusiastic and nerdy about Harry Potter as I could have hoped, and is a great teacher as far as I can tell this far into the semester (2 classes).

Creative Writing Workshop: Short Story MWF 2:30-3:20pm: I am a bit apprehensive about this class, or at least I was until I sat down yesterday and came up with what I hope is going to turn out to be a good beginning to a good story. My nerves come from the fact that most of the people in this class are GRADUATE STUDENTS, and I use the capitalization to infuse the proper amount of naive and most likely misplaced mystification that I feel when I use those words. Imad Rahman, the professor, is very interesting. One of you will be happy to know that he recently recieved his MFA in Creative Writing from none other than the University of Florida. He has an interesting speech impediment and is wickedly funny and almost intimidatingly insightful (that is, I value what he has to say as opposed to many professors whose opinions, sadly, I don't), again, as far as I've been able to tell in the short time I've encountered him.

Screenwriting TU 2:30-3:45pm: I think this may just become my favorite class of the semester. For one thing I will be learning about an entirely new way of writing, completely foreign to me, along with all the new terms and concepts - which wouldn't be exciting if I didn't find the whole business of screenwriting interesting. This particular semester of screenwriting will focus on the television comedy (the professer plans to focus on different generas later, including television drama and film), and so the major focus of our class is going to be on 'Arrested Development' which is, as many of you know, my favorite show on TV today (until American Idol starts next week, that is... HA!) The professor, Ann Reckling, is kind of weird... very "Los Angeles" if you'll excuse my using it as an adjective, but I think she'll be very informative if nothing else. Our final project is to write a teleplay for our own episode of 'Arrested Development.' I mean really... what could be more exciting?!

Bloomsbury Group U 7:05-9:55pm: This is probably going to be the driest class of the semester, but as I told the professor when asked why I was taking the class, I find the notion of a group of artists and thinkers getting together and drinking and talking about their craft and life and whatnot pretty interesting, so hopefully this class will teach me more about what they thought and talked about. Karin Westman professes, and also happens to be the wife of my HP Professor Philip Nel. She seems very cool as well... the two of them look a lot like Harry's parents, I think, except his hair's a bit lighter.

I know that I said that I would give full reviews of all the movies that I saw over the holidays, but I find the thought of such a project entirely too taxing, and anyway, who am I to say that you need to hear anything and everything that I feel about X movie? Instead, I'm going to break down the movies I've seen into three simple categories.

See it Now: In Good Company, The Life Aquatic, Closer
See it Later: Ocean's Twelve, Lemony Snicket, Sideways
See it Never: Spanglish

SO there ya go. I still need to see The Aviator and Finding Neverland, but yeah.

If there's anything else (and I know there is), it has fled my mind. Therefore, I bid you farewell. Until next time...

Reflection Perplexion

So I was looking at myself in the mirror a little bit ago, and I realized:

I HAVE THE MOST HIDEOUS SMILE I HAVE EVER SEEN!!!

I don't know what it is! If it's my glasses or my chubby cheeks or the quality of my skin or my teeth or WHAT! But for some reason, whenever I bare these pearly whites (or I guess a couple shades darkers :\), I can distinctly make out the sound of children crying in the distance. Other image maladies I can handle, but this!?!?! WHY, GOD, WHY?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!

I suppose it's a good thing I have so many other things going for me these days, or I might start to worry that I'm going to be single for like... forever! Right, ladies? Ladies?

Oh...

Today is my half birthday. I figure... I've never really celebrated it before, but this year, I feel celebrations are in order. So, in honor of the fact that I am now 21 and a half, I'd like you all to try to add a little extra bounce in your step, or smile at someone you wouldn't smile at on any other day, or be just a little more real with eachother. Or don't. But I'm going to.

Do they make half candles?

More Interesting?

I just finished Waking Life. For some reason, I couldn't finish it in one setting, although at 100 minutes, it's not all that long of a film. It's dense... dense, and incredibly interesting. I'd like to try and give you an overall theme or the part (idea?) I found the most profound, but out of vanity (perhaps) I won't. You see, I'm by no means philosophical, or scholarly, and read, but I don't want you to know that. That's weird that I just told you, but I think part of me thinks (knows?) that you only half believe that the things I tell you are true. Smart cookies.

Ha... I guess that's about the only reason for this post. Just wanted to let you all know that I liked the current 'movie of the moment'.

Interesting.

Maybe I ought to change my AIM screen name again. I haven't had much luck with it so far... how long has it been a month or two? and already it's being blocked. Let's think up some new ones, shall we?

- MistakeRepeater
- StuckNthePast
- UnbearableDreamer
- UtterlyForgettable
- OverEmotiveBlogger

I dunno, just a few coarse suggestions. As always, I'm open to suggestions.

It is amazing to me how with the click of a single button, you are able erase someone from your life. It's too bad it doesn't erase you from theirs as well. Then maybe they could share in the joy of moving on.

I'm fine. Really, I'm fine. If not tonight then tomorrow. Or the next day.

---
On the lighter side, I've lost 10 pounds this week. Hooray for me.

A Perverse Collection

I'm thinking about starting up a collection. I'm not usually one to collect things, but I think at this point in my life, so I'm going to start collecting and reading the blogs of random people who I find incredibly interesting. I think that I've already done this already... there's a list of people whose blogs I enjoy in the right-hand column. But these will be different in that I won't tell anyone I'm reading them. I guess I just think there has to be more of a purpose to these things than for me to ramble on about all the most mundane aspects of my life. I guess maybe I'm looking for blogs that I wish were mine, or for people who live and think and feel (or don't) like me. I'm looking for connection. It's a mission, and since I need a hobby (aside from finding a job), I think this is as good as any. Maybe people already do this... I'm sure they do. I just hope that anyone who does stumble upon my blog will find me interesting, relatable, immediate, and real.

There is light at the end of this damned tunnel... I just can't see it yet.

So this is the New Year...

and I don't feel any different.

Well, I do, but it's hard saying how.

I'm in the mood to write one of those long-winded, introspective posts where I muse on the tickings of my heart and mind, but I find the thought of such a venture so exasperating at the same time that I can't even imagine why or how I would want go into it all. So instead, I'm going to talk to you about, oh, I dunno, a couple of random things.

The drive back from dropping Katie off at the airport was beautiful in a weird, tragic kind of way. As I drew closer to Manhattan the fields and trees became covered with a light blanket of ice. Most who see me in my "winter setting" know that I love this... it looks like some weird sparkling natural architectural marvel. Tragic, though, because I wished Katie could have seen it.

Sigh.

The other thing that I want to talk about is... umm... Chicken Fried Steak Thursday at Freddy T's. It's nice. Right, Logan? Jessica? It's nice. Too bad I don't know when I'll be in Olathe on a Thursday again for some time. We'll figure something out, though... don't you worry.

Sorry for the "blah" post... I'm kind of "blah" right now.