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Today was awful.

Aesthetics.

I can't sleep. So I will blog.

How are you, blog? I know, it's been about a week. I've been neglecting you. In the beginning of our relationship it was all about, posts posts posts, almost once a day. But I think we've matured to the point where we really don't have to post more than once a week or so. Hey, that's more than other people with blogs post! Besides, the posts will be better if it's not a daily thing. Let me tell you about my week.

So, what's been going on since the last post? Well, that evening I hung out with people and went to a poetry reading. The poetry was... alright. I probably would have liked it even less if I wasn't enjoying the company. All of her poems were about wells and springs in Scotland. I just don't know how I feel about that. The poetry was well-written and all, but in the end who cares about a poem about water? Maybe it's just my tastes. I like poetry that tells me a meaningful little story. Like "Richard Cory" by Edwin Arlington Robinson.  If I remember correctly all of her poems were free verse, and I have a certain distaste for free verse. I believe there's something to be said for meter and rhyme. If it doesn't have meter or rhyme, if it's not lyrical, why write it in line form? Write it in paragraph form and call it a really short story. Doesn't need to be a poem. Maybe I don't know enough about poetry, but I think Robert Frost does, and he said: "Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down."

I'm going to put the break in right about here. So, more after the jump! Woo!

Milestones.

Four days without a blog post? What can I say; it's a hard habit to keep up. Guess I haven't had anything significant to say, if I ever did. I've barely had any time to think the last few days. Finalizing the paperwork for my double major, hunting for apartments, reading shitty books, writing papers on shitty books; all very time consuming.

I was forced to read this book called The Hadj by Michael Wolfe for my Religion class. It was complete, utter, crap. What should have been a deep and thoughtful reflection on a man's personal religious journey turned into an Anthony Bourdain-wannabe travelogue.

In one scene the author recounts his first visit to a mosque in Morocco after converting to Islam and traveling there to learn about the Muslim lifestyle. The mosque has a pole set up about waist high across the entrance. The pole is symbolic; meant to keep non-believers out of the mosque, but has about a 3-foot gap on either side of the pole to let believers into the mosque for prayer. While everybody funnels themselves through the gaps around the pole, the author goes into this really bizarre stream of consciousness you would expect from somebody with the intellect of a middle schooler, in which he "weighs his options" for getting around the pole:

... I weighed my options for getting past it and very nearly made a foolish move. At home I had lived for a time on a cattle ranch. Being used to gates and wooden fences, my first impulse to beat the crowd was simply to duck the pole and take a shortcut. 
No one ducked under. They hugged the sidelines, they shrank to patient groups of two or three, they slipped around the bar at either end, but they took no shortcuts. I managed to pull up in the knick of time, physically pull up and back, saving myself from a serious social blunder. I conformed to the flow of the crowd around the pole.

Wow. Seriously, dude? You have so little respect for the religion you decided to convert  to, and you take it with such a lack of seriousness, that you would even consider that for a split second; going so far as to start to physically duck down and prepare for the jump before you catch yourself? You know, I think I'm going to convert to Christianity. Yep, first thing I'm going to do is go to a church and jump the pews like hurdles in order to get to the front row before everybody else. What a douche.

That's all I've got for you today, my dear little blog.

Jazzing Around.

It seems as though this little blogging habit of mine is picking up steam. I am not entirely sure whether or not this is a good thing, but there is one thing I am certain of: Sagan is responsible for all of this. So if it turns out bad, blame her. I'm willing to take all credit if it turns out good, though. 

Since this is becoming a daily occurrence, I'm going to take advantage of the jump break feature. So, from now on, if I have a particularly lengthy post to write on you, my humble blog, I'm going to break it up into two to keep up with aesthetics. I can't wait to use the phrase "more after the jump." Oh, it's so exciting. 

I finished Part 1 of The Art of Fiction today. I can't express how fucking brilliant John Gardner is. If you're reading this, first take a moment to reflect on how wonderfully voyeuristic this experience is: peering into my thoughts. Then take a moment to consider how fucking stupid this all is, typing away our lives in a little HTML box. Then, if you are interested in writing (like my "followers" which have now racked up to a grand total of 3), pick up a copy of The Art of Fiction. Seriously. Do it. You won't regret it. I could blog about it all day and still completely fail to do it any justice. I am legitimately looking forward to seeing how my writing improves after reading this. Learning about writing has so far just been entirely guesswork on my part. I've only ever had one person (who knows anything) give me any advice about writing (namely, how to skip the guesswork) and that advice was, "Read The Art of Fiction by John Gardner."

More after the jump. (Oh god that was so satisfying.)

The Outlaw.

 

Shown: Jane Russell

(So much hotter than Marilyn Monroe)

(I mean seriously, why do people care about Marilyn so much?)

 

I talked to the mayor of Raleigh today. Friend of mine and I are sort of trying to start a student movement to get Google to bring their fiber-optic internet thing to Raleigh (info below in convenient youtube video format, if you haven't heard about it.) I got a voicemail but he returned my call within 5 minutes. I think he thought I was a representative from Google so it was a bit awkward. But, it turns out the mayor already has people on it. Good to know. I really do think Raleigh would be a great candidate. After all, we've been named both the most educated and most "wired" city in America. We already have all of these technology companies here. Red Hat, Sprint, IBM, etc. Apparently the competition is in Topeka, Kansas. They renamed their city Google, Kansas for a week or something. What the fuck does Kansas need with 1gbps internet? Do they really need 1gpbs internet to access cornandpotatoes.com? (insert Wizard of Oz joke here). 

Went to Sylvia's again today. Sylvio made me a custom dish with ravioli and chicken with a nice alfredo sauce and red lettuce and all sorts of neat stuff. It was amazing. Sex on a plate, really. 

Got my books from Amazon. Three books on writing by John Gardner. The man is a genius. I love the preface to The Art of Fiction: 

"This is a book designed to teach the serious beginning writer the art of fiction. I assume from the outset that the would-be writer using this book can become a successful writer if he wants to, since most of the people I've known who wanted to become writers, knowing what it meant, did become writers. About all that is required is that the would-be writer understand clearly what it is that he wants to become and what he must do to become it. If no matter how hard he tries he simply cannot do what he must do, this book will help him understand why he was not sent into this world to be a writer but for some other noble purpose."

Yeah, I know, oh snap. I really hope I don't fall into that latter category he speaks of. If I do, then I guess I'll have to find something else to fall back on. C'est la vie.

In other news, the apartment hunt continues. In other other news, I have two books to read by Monday. Fuck.

That's all for now.

Goodnight, kittens.

Goodnight, mittens.
Goodnight, house.

Goodnight, mouse.

Goodnight, blog.

Sly Devil.

(I'm still getting used to this whole blog thing, so if for some reason treating it like a diary is uncouth, bear with me.)

Dear Diary, Blog,

Today was good, and I hold this truth to be self evident. The snow was beautiful last night. Thick flakes floating to the ground. They were so heavy you could hear them smacking into the pavement just like if they were regular raindrops. I took a nap before work, but woke up a few minutes before my alarm clock went off. It's kind of a pet peeve of mine, I feel like I wasted a few perfectly good minutes of sleep. I was sad to see that even by 4 am most of the snow had melted, since it had started raining. Oh well. There were people doing yoga in the lobby. It was bizarre. I seriously considered the possibility that I might be dreaming. I still think that I might be. But that's kind of normal.

History sucked. As usual. But that's okay. I was too tired and out of it to really notice. I skipped Literature (I know, I'm such a badass: skipping classes). Fiction Writing was also kind of boring. I just was not into the stories we discussed today. Just not my cup of tea. Or even my cup of water, for that matter (I know that doesn't make sense, shut up). But a bunch of us went out to dinner at Mitch's afterward, and that was pretty great. Our teacher joined us. I was kind of concerned that he was going to bring his teacherly attitude, and he kind of did, but it didn't take much to get him to drop his guard. I thoroughly enjoyed my conversation with one of the people in the group...


There are many different kinds of genius in this world, I think. And I believe I discovered that a good friend of mine is a certain kind of genius I was previously unaware of. I'm not quite sure how to describe it. Perhaps she is a social genius or an interpersonal genius, something along those lines. But I can't go into it right now. Maybe I will tell you about it, my humble blog, at some point in the future (when you're older).

That's it for now. I leave you with a cool music video I ran into yesterday.

Cobbles.

What the hell am I supposed to write in a blog, anyway? Do you want me to tell you about my day? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? YOU DON'T CONTROL ME.

You know what? Fine. I'll do it.
I couldn't sleep for shit last night. Probably this bullshit weather. 'Wintry mix'? It's a euphemism for 'bullshit.' I went to work at 8. Read some Wuthering Heights (for my Literature class, I would never read it without being forced to). That brings us to the word of the day: COBBLES. How did that bring us to the word of the day? I don't know. Don't worry about it, it's not important. Like this blog.

God damnit. I just spilled ice water all over myself. Okay, where was I? Oh, yes, cobbles. So, after work I did things and then met a friend of mine for lunch. We went to Waba. I had kimchi fried rice, she nibbled at an orange she brought with her. What the hell is that? There's a word for that: 'argablarga', feel free to use it if you wish, but make sure to use it properly. After lunch I did some other things, don't remember what, whatever it was it probably involved the internet. Went to class, Religion. We talked about Islam. It was mildly interesting. Somehow the topic turned to the gestation period of camels. I still have no idea what was going on there. Went to dinner at Sylvia's (again), ravioli alfredo, delicious.

So now, here I am. My crotch is wet and cold, and I'm writing my first real blog entry. But, why? Who am I talking to? Am I talking to myself? Am I talking to Kathleen (my one follower at the moment and thus my only friend in the world)? Am I telling Google about my day because they already know everything about me anyway? What about this blog is making me open up about my day that having a journal never did for me? I was just never a journal person. My relatives used to buy me nice notebooks for christmas because "hey I guess he writes, what else do we get him? Legos?" YES, LEGOS. I fucking love legos. I went to the Lego store at the mall a couple months or weeks ago, it was amazing. It felt similar to how I imagine extremely religious people feel about going to church.

What the hell? Why am I doing this? Why are you reading this? Who are you? What are you? What do you see? Do you see into my head? Into my heart? Do you see into me - into us - clearly or darkly?

Am I cool now?

Today, at dinner, somebody convinced me to make a blog.