ball of lightning [dot] com

Well, I thought I had beaten down the symptoms of lethargy but alas, it manifests itself during a different time today. It’s been one of those weird days where I was spry and attentive this morning during classes, with thoughts of taking serious dents out of this week’s schoolwork racing through my head. Guess not. Since I sat back down in this godforsaken chair about 4 hours ago, I have done nothing but refresh ESPN.com and Rotoworld no more than 4 times. I’ve had a few fairly meaningless conversations, listened to a large number of songs that don’t have any effect on my mood whatsoever, and continually looked at that clock waiting for some dishes to muddy themselves to the point that I can run them through a giant twenty-foot machine which cleans them from approximately 41 and a half different angles. Then it’s back here to do some econ and physics and maybe linear algebra. Maybe that’s why I find Torrington refreshing. Things happen. I’m not chained down. I want to do something; it’s no more than a tank of gas away. Here, I have my weekly routine, which I always thought was good for me. But when the hell have I liked a rigid schedule? I’ve always done papers at the last second, showed up at people’s houses unannounced, left my house for no real reason other than to leave. Where can I go from here? Ithaca is exactly the same as Torrington yet isn’t even close to anything I should call a home. Paradoxical? Hell yes. I have no clue where this comes from. Maybe it’s a direct reflection upon myself. It’s not that I regret choices I’ve made, things that I have done (and failed to do). It’s merely that I am fully aware of my minute imperfections that need to be changed for the simple fact that I realize that they exist. It’s always later. I’ll do this later, that later, hey later. Maybe it’s now. Time. Maybe my character needs an overhaul. I don’t hate who I am. I don’t hide who I am. I could sit here and say I’m a sad, drugged-out, slightly less obese version of Chris Farley. And while I might get my own TV show on E! if I was something like that, I’m not. While contradictory to my personality, this post is not. It’s me rambling. It’s me going through a bout of depression, or withdrawal or something. I am ninety-nine and nine-hundred and a ninety-nine thousands percent sure that I’ll be back to my old loud, annoying, everyone loves me, “I’m fat!” self. So don’t worry. But hey, stream of consciousness; I knew Ms. Regner’s lessons in seventh grade would pay off in some fashion, other than remembering what work is used for an abnormal fear of peanut-butter sticking to the roof of one’s mouth.

So why in God’s name is this here now? Who knows? Boredom, rain, procrastination and Wordpress do hilariously amazing things to me.

Maybe I think too much.

I wish. Then I’d be at Harvard.

(Though the idea of some of you reading this and having absolutely no clue as to whether I actually wrote it or what the hell I was doing while penning it brings a slight wrinkle of a smile to my face.)

And as a postscript; if you can figure out exactly what the above means, I owe you a prize. I haven’t read it over, but I’m willing to bet money on it’s lack of coherence. Enjoy your day kiddos!

For the sake of a semi-regular update–

Back at Cornell, and realizing that *whoops* I conveniently forgot to do my EAS assignment that was due– oh– a week ago. Bowling and Megan Newkirk chocolate chip pancakes are clearly too big a distraction for me to overcome. No snow surprisingly, so might eventually go out to the driving range and see what I still have left. Which is nothing. Nothing at all.

Seven more weeks. That’s all. Excited or no? It’s interesting really. Torrington bores the absolute hell out of me, while Ithaca typically keeps me busy (not necessarily in a constructive way). But for sheer quantity of people I enjoy being around, sometimes I wonder if it still is charming ol’ T-Town. Next year should be better here; though this second half so far has been a resounding success compared to Cornell semester “number one.” (Like Miami Vice — #1 new show)

Japanese people rule. Mochi good.

Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin’, slippin’, slippin’
Into the future

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I’m free
Oh, Lord, through the revolution

Nothing new from Torrington. Looks like I might end up with even MORE bowling balls, but have bowled reasonably well since I’ve been back. Shot a 7 at Bristol and shot 414 for two on the “PBA” shot last night at Bradley. Showed Mr. 18 boards of area who was boss at least. The new, IMPROVED Bradley. Oh well, I guess it still gets to be my favorite house.

Taxes.
Taxes.
Taxing.

Played poker down at the almighty hobby shop last night. Third one “officially” out (not really the third one out, but they allow unlimited rebuys and I wasn’t really in the mood to drop more money; there had to have been like 15 rebuys before I was out.) Terrible players, and it’s unfortunate that I got terrible cards… best hand (no lie) in an hour was A-4 diamonds, which I had to fold to 2 all-ins in front of me (two pocket pairs). Ironically it was the only hand I think I would have won; would have rivered the nut flush. Other than that, never saw two face cards in a hand, never saw connectors higher than 9-8 (first hand) or suited connectors higher than 6-7 (flop hit AKQ with that hand). Saw 7-3 3 hands in a row, and I swear I had 6-2 or 6-3 at least eight or nine times. Eventually it me my big-blind self vs. the small blind who limped in. Flop hits K-8-4, 2 clubs, I move in with 8-6 clubs (mid pair, flush draw) and got called by K-2. His king held. Probably the worst run of cards over an hour stretch I’ve seen in a LONG time, but I suppose it’s better than getting hands and getting fucked over. Oh well, I suppose there are things in life more important than poker…

… like BOWLING. (betcha didn’t see that coming!)

… no, not Canada.

Syracuse.

The one upset I was SO damn sure about. C’mon, Syracuse got MURDERED by UConn in their two losses– you didn’t actually think they were going to the national championship did you?

Wow, haven’t seen the wonderful world of blogs in a while. Fun stuff.

My life has lacked in its notoriety so it’s not like you missed anything.

Classes still suck. I still bowl. Sleepytime lacks. And Vince still gets drunk and hit fat chics on their asses.

Oh, but one new thing. I beat the mean on every single one of my prelims (again, Cornell-speak for midterms). Translated, that means– “Hahaha you fucking Asians, take that you cock-sucking buttfuckers!”

Some basketball games have occurred, some parties have been frequented, some money has been won/lost (mostly lost), a job at Appel Commons was acquired, and the highlight of the last month…

(Plug: Go buy (or Limewire, you Heineken drinking pirates) some stuff by a German punk band named the Donots. As well as the Irish band Flogging Molly (slightly more popular, hence less of a find on my part, but hey, what do I care).

Jon…
fucking…
Stewart…

What I thought he was gonna say: Bush sucks, Kerry sucks, the system sucks.
What he did say: Masturbation, explosive diarrhea, fucking piñatas (sex with piñatas, not fuck as in “Oh man, you fucking piñata” — just for clarification).

There was some “PUSH! It’s the only way!” as the stampede for general admission seats raced on. We got tenth row, center stage… not bad for showing up late and getting in the end of the really long line.

Oh, and there was apple pie.

Baseball is in the air, and spring break begins tomorrow. And hey, I posted again. I’m alive. Not dead. Back on track. What’s not to love?