i'd rather die terrified than live forever

the new blog

2009-04-26T16:16:00.000-06:00

www.somewhereoutsideof.com

between earth and sky

2008-12-04T16:34:00.004-06:00

Wind? Snow? Dark? My North Dakota.

just press back

2008-12-02T22:02:00.005-06:00

and fill in the blank

.com/index.php?id=

113

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166

179

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now every time I pick up the phone I hear soft, sad purring

2008-11-30T21:47:00.012-06:00

Thanksgiving weekend. first holiday without. listening to music. living breath to breath. hope to survive Christmas.

In the car ride home to Bismarck today I put together a list of goals in my head. Instead of attempting to keep track of time limits, I just sorted them into short and long term. I am already accomplishing many from the short-term list, the long-term is looking ahead to the begining of next year.

Short-term:

*Update this blog 3 days/week: I actually would like to see 4 posts a week, but at least 3 quality.

*Work out 4 days/week: I've averaged this over the last few weeks, but I need to be a bit more consistant. The other part of this goal is eating right. I have been eating healthy food--the only real bad choices I've made are skipping meals if I'm preoccupied.

*Complete organization and upkeep of my apartment: normally I clean once a week but through the holidays I'm not going to be around every weekend and I've already entered a slide from Thanksgiving. I may be the first person in this building recycling glass and plastic. Hell, I don't think I've even seen an aluminum bin but I refuse to believe it isn't somewhere. Then again, I get strange looks for bringing my own bag to the grocery store.

*Set up a solid home network: I need to fix my desktop box; put together a file server; and get it all connected to my turntables and television so I can spin and run milkdrop (visualization package) to the beat.

Long-term goals:

*Sell enough business to get recognized at my company's 2009 Christmas party. This is the toughest item on the list but can be accomplished through serious dedication and hard work. Due to the current economy many places that may previously have been locked down are more apt to discuss their water treatment programs.

*Finish at least one piece of art per month.

*Learn a second language. I feel like I should work my French to a higher efficiency, but I have more interest in Arabic or Russian. (I just checked and it looks like all the state college offers for language is Spanish. Furthermore, looking over other classes there isn't anything above Organic II lab for chemistry, multivariable calculus for math, and Physics II lab for physics. Oddly enough, they have some interesting classes regarding Nuclear Power Technology but they're all online :wtf:. I'd be interested but online-nuclear power teaching raises quality of education questions. Nuclear technology from The Learning Annex, perfect.)

*Get a sewing machine and learn how to tailor/mend clothing. I brought a few things to a local tailor and the cost was pretty high for simple things I can do easily.

The list seems esoteric, but when your only other option is the bars it's a good way to stay off the bottle.

read it like i read it

the FREEDOM FIGHTER words BOMB still TERRORIST linger

2008-11-25T21:48:00.000-06:00

Just two quotes for tonight:

"It is the duty of righteous men to make war on all undeserved privilege, but one must not forget that this is a war without end."
-Primo Levi

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death.
Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create--so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off...
He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."
-Pearl S Buck

36 hours and Poland

2008-11-24T18:14:00.004-06:00

A quick rundown for the last year and a half:

*I graduated from the University of Minnesota with my Chemical Engineering degree.

*I moved to Bismarck, North Dakota to work for US Water Services as an application engineer. I run studies on various unit operations such as boilers, cooling towers, deaerators, softeners, reverse osmosis systems, filtration by various media, and set up chemical treatment programs. The goal is water conservation through increased cycles of concentration and lower natural gas usage from clean and protected systems, accomplished by optimized chemical feed systems limiting emissions and use.

For a variety of reasons--and from the advice of several people--I've begun trying to reconnect to the creative outlets I used enjoy. I think it's time I started blogging again. Eventually (in the next few months) I hope to buy a new domain and start a blog/photo gallery. I finished my first stencil art in three years and have been thinking about picking up a job as a cook on the weekends (my USWS manager actually suggested this). I figure it will give me a good way to meet people and keep myself busy, though I'm concerned about the amount of time a second job would consume. Maybe January.

Change is an odd thing. I don't think it matters if you're 19, 23, 49, or 53 years old, it takes time to level again. I've never thought myself adverse to change or someone who avoids it, but I think I better understand why it scares people. Regardless of how much you liked or disliked the previous circumstance (or your current): it's the idea a major part of your life will not be the same.

For now, I'll start with writing here regularly and see what happens.

After Dark

2007-02-28T21:51:00.000-06:00

The pubs fill up.
The guards fall asleep.
The streetlamps' yellow haze reflects in the sidewalk end puddles.
Thoughts faulter between everything and nothing.

And the high tide washes it clean for tomorrow.

Mm Mmmmmmm Mmmmm

2007-02-23T00:53:00.000-06:00

Mmmm Mmmmm,
M mmm'm mmmm mmmm mm mmm mmmm mmmm'm mmmmmmm mmmm mmmm.

M mmmm mmm, mmm m mmmm mmmmmm mmmm mmm. M mmmmm mmmm m mmmm mmmmm mmm mmmmm mmm mmm, mmm M mmmmmmm mmm mmmm mm mmm. M mmmmm M mmm mmmmm. Mmm mmm mmm M mmm mm mm mmmmmm mmmmm mmmmm mm mmmmmmm M mmmm mmmm mmm mmm mmmm mmm mm mmmmmmmm mm mmmm mm mmmm.

M mmmm mmm mmm mm mm mmmm.

M mm mmmmmm. Mm mmmmm mmm mmmm mmmmmm... mmmmm?

Mmmmm.

Mmmmm,
Mmmm

My Suit in a Bag

2007-02-19T15:08:00.000-06:00

The mall. It seems quant that it would end here. Originality points: zero. I suppose it's the by-product of watching too many 70s horror movies and a naivity in thinking a new shirt would be a duct-tape solution to the sickness anyone I can meet will soon feel.

"What are they doing? Why do they come here?"
"Some kind of instinct. Memory, of what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives."

I first noticed the change this weekend after buying a pack of smokes from the BP in Dinkytown. I walked out of the building when my eyes connected to a girl sitting in a car waiting for her friend to fill up. Blue. Disconsolate. Despairing. Despondent. Ravenous.

She watched me get in my car, unblinking. I pulled onto University and up to the red 11th Ave. stoplight. The car she was in stopped next to me and I could feel her stare from the passenger seat. "She's just looking for the same thing as everyone else," I reassured myself.

"They're after us. They know we're still in here."
"They're after the place. They don't know why, they just remember. Remember that they want to be in here."

I turned off onto East River Road and drove along the banks haunted by her eyes.

But she wasn’t the only one. Walking to class on Monday, I saw it again in the face of a girl waiting to get on the bus.

She was infected too. It strangled her thoughts, twisted her face. Her hair, quickly tied up. Her focus, blankly into the concrete sidewalk.

What could cause such pain?

I had forgotten these questions and the incident by the time I left for a concert that evening. When I returned I noticed a deep scratch across my chest, just above my heart (visible in a recent facebook photo).

Fuck, I’ve been bitten. No, I can’t be. My shirt isn’t ripped. It’s probably nothing. I’m over-reacting.

The next morning everything was different. A new color filled my reality. I couldn't shake the random moments of my mind screaming, drowning.

A call from a friend broke my penance, “Let’s go to the mall, there is a sale this weekend at Banana Republic.” Anything to fill the void.

In the car, it picks up again. I’m walking inside.

It’s getting worse now. I sit down on a bench, writhing. Everyone oblivious.

I can feel it pulsing in my body, vibrating within every fiber of my being: shaking my soul to silence.

"The normal question, the first question is, are these cannibals? No, they are not. Cannibalism in the true sense of the word implies an interspecies activity. These creatures cannot be considered human. They prey on humans. They do not prey on each other, that's the difference. They attack and they feed only on warm flesh. Intelligence? Seemingly no reasoning ability, but basic skills remain from a remembered everyday life. There have been reports of these creatures using tools. But even these are the most basic, the use of tools as bludgeons and so forth. I might point out that even animals have been known to adopt the use of tools in this manner. These creatures are nothing but pure, motorized instinct."

I am poisoned, sadism--setting in. I must resist. I am stronger, I can't be broken. I am

Hello.

I'm Brad, nice to meet you.

Are you free this weekend?

Dinner and a movie?

I'll see you at eight.

Everything You've Come to

2007-02-06T23:33:00.000-06:00

As fall semester was ending, I had taken to wearing a bandana over my face when longboarding around campus to keep warm. It has the wonderful side-effect of scaring people out of your way as well. For some reason, clipping along at 15mph doesn't have the same 'don't walk in front of me' without looking as though I've just stepped out of a spaghetti western. Longboarding is an odd activity; normally I see it as a means to an end, but late at night it has a soul of all its own. I had been working late on a Sunday night with a few friends in the ChemE undergrad lounge. When I came outside I found Washington completely empty. I walked into the street, took off my headphones, stopped my music, and started home—carving from curb to curb. Not a single car or person the entire five blocks. It was a morning post-snowstorm run down through the forest–the light posts my trees; the neon lights my powder—laying the first tracks of the day.

Over winter break I had two episodes of sleep paralysis within a week, excluding the one mid-December. Sleep paralysis is characterized by “partial or complete skeletal muscle paralysis during the hypnopompic or hypnagogic states. In other words, it is the sense of being aware that one is unable to move or speak while falling asleep or waking up. Sleep paralysis may also be accompanied by hypnagogic hallucinations. These hallucinations can be auditory, tactile, and/or visual.” (Wiki Link). What this brief summery leaves out is these dreams are often the real hardcore nightmares you experience. Because you’re initially awake, it tends to start ‘real’ before you begin hallucinating due to the chemicals numbing your body. At first I began to think that I was having an increase in frequency but have since realized I’m just better at identifying them. Talking with others I think everyone has one or two a year, and I think I’m at five for 2006—not much to worry.

Due to my mild away-message-checking-ocd and clichéd lyric posting, I happened upon a man that had Bob Dylan’s songwriting, Frank Sinatra singing, and a touch of Marlon Brando ala Streetcar Named Desire combined into one French (rather Flemish) artist. Jacques Brel (Wiki). Amsterdam (youtube video). Ne Me Quitte Pas (youtube video) – the saddest love song I believe I’ll ever hear.

I was out last week to visit a buddy who is enjoying a small break before starting his new job and found Uptown’s normally bustling midday streets eerily vacant, due in part to the unbearable wind tearing through the corridors of concrete and brick. One man stood indifferent. Wedged between Hennepin, Emerson, and 24th, the statue of Thomas Lowry stared vacantly westward down Hennepin away from the city, top-hat in hand. The statue was originally erected at the intersection of Hennepin and Lyndale in 1915, a tribute to the man who created the first streetcar system in the city. When the memorial was moved in the 1960s to Smith Triangle Park to facilitate the tunnel system, Lowry’s son had already run the company and died, and the entire Twin Cities Rapid Transit system had been dismantled due to money and politics by 1949. Looking at him I couldn’t help but feel as though he held a bit of sorrow in his posture, or maybe his eyes were set a bit too deep and the setting sun gave him a look of concern. “Here, hold my hat. I’ll be right back.” just longing to escape to anyplace but here. Or maybe that was just me.

Believe. Fear. Love. Remember.

Missing in Minnesota

2006-10-07T12:58:00.000-06:00

My reality has experienced a paradigm shift in sensing time. Mentally, the week is three 'days'. Weeknights have become but a powernap in what feels to be the longest day of my life each week. It's not a physical drain, as I'm getting roughly 7hr/night. I feel like my mind just doesn't have the ability to process and sort the behemoth stack of information from the day. It'll be midnight and I'm laying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, thinking about what I need to do tomorrow when my phone rings. Who would call me at this hour? I grab my phone and realize it's actually my alarm and sit up in bed stunned. You've got to be fucking kidding me.

I'd say its the worst part of my day, but when you initially thought you had just jumped into bed--it's no different then realizing you forgot to brush your teeth before getting in, only when you return from the bathroom--some jackass changed your clock and the sun is out. In an odd way, I revel in it. The accomplished feeling after crunch time is a euphoria I usually have to pay to experience.

This does destroy whatever aspect of a social life I thought I had. This morning at work I totalled ~65-70hrs/week for homework, studying, and classtime. Really, what do you say?

"Hey, how about we go out Friday from 4pm-10pm"
"What? Why only till 10pm?"
"Well, my body normally shuts down around that time, so hope to whatever deity you pray that you have me near a bed, couch, or someplace you won't have carry me far because I'll be out cold when the clock hits 10pm."

In this life there is no glass slipper, carriage, or happily ever after, just a lame engineering student that is now your problem.

Minneapolis Burnin'

2006-08-16T12:19:00.000-06:00

On my way to work this morning I noticed something odd: the sky wasn't the right color blue. Granted, I had left my contacts in last night and I had only been up for roughly 10 minutes when I noticed the variance. I began debating in my head what the color is called--and what the color that should be in the sky is called. It didn't occur to me until 35 turned South that what I had finally decided as 'steel blue' was actually just a homogenous mix of clouds which split in the sky in a perfect chalk-line from North to South, with the sun slowly burning them West.

Damn. If anyone could read thoughts, I'm pretty sure within five minutes they'd be bored with me and find someone else to evesdrop.

Fall Adjustments

2006-08-14T14:27:00.000-06:00

The last few weeks have been hit or miss in bed. Unlike the last few days--which had mostly consisted of futile tossing--last night I actually slept well. Pinpointing 'what went right' is nearly as tough as pinpointing 'what went wrong' as I haven't bothered changed my routine. I like attributing it to the weather--the perfect scapegoat.

I hold a secret spite of August, almost in the same way I lament Sunday. August is bittersweet as it's the last month of Summer which means three things: moving, school, and Fall.

To be honest, I enjoy moving. It gives me a chance to dig through all the miscellaneous mess of papers and junk I've collected over the last year and try to simplify my existence. This year I've been making a special effort to remove anything that I don't need. It's tough to sort through what is necessary and what you're just used to carrying--items that make sense to own yet you never touch. I've had the same bulky electric pencil sharpener sitting on my desk since Freshman year; it's seen wood maybe two times in its life. I used to like regular yellow "Eagle" #2s but those days have been long gone due to the undesired effect of having to sharpen mid-class. The sharpener has stuck with me, through 1001s and 4001s, sitting unused on my desk. Another decadent relic (circa 1998) of which I'm happy to remove from my life is my 'Minneapple' pen mug. I never used any of the pens or pencils in it--the latter explained above--yet was never able to see its departure.

I've found that by having less I seem to get more accomplished as well, a by-product of my capacity to accomplish combined with removal of obstacles on the desk. I even removed my computer from my desk and onto my dresser. Since I only use it for entertainment purposes and I set the keyboard on my lap when typing papers anyway; it's win-win. This year brings on the full set of chemical engineering classes, which were surmounted to me as 'get a running start, grab on, and try to keep your shit together'. I'm ready for it. All the preparation eventually pays off as the weather cools.

I think Fall is the better half of the transitional seasons. Spring is cold with a peek of warmth. Even when that nice day comes, every surface is wet or soggy still shaking off winter. Fall is warmth with a peek of cool. I guess something about sitting in the sun with shorts, flip-flops, and a sweatshirt makes me believe in things I've long since lost. It comes on a random Sunday, walking to a buddy's house for some burgers and beers. The breeze picks up and in the crisp wind a smell fills your nose that is just as quickly gone, but the memory remains. It was your ex-girlfriend's perfume. It was the apples you ganked from the neighbor's yard. It was the pumpkins you smashed on the second of November because come on, they had a day to do it themselves. It was your family's dog. It was the post game bonfire at your best friend's house and you had your arm around whomever you were with and you cared nothing of credit card debt, the current state of the world, or how you were going to find a job. You realize you've stopped walking and just standing on the corner, no cars or people in sight. The only sound accompanying the wind and leaves is your own breathing.

penultimate

2006-06-16T21:30:00.000-06:00

Thank you for introducing me to the place I'd never been. Since, I've gone there many times and even shown a few friends. Some had even been there before.

It was a nice place to reflect. It was hard not to find a source of comfort sitting there, watching everyone so confused below in the city. When I was there I wasn't part of the messes everyone else made, or even my own. I'd go at lunchtime or late at night, blinded by the brightness of the day or lack thereof--just walking. It was never the planned destination but it became it anyway.

I wandered over there today in the rain but the path was gone. Lost, wet, and confused I scrambled around the area vainly searching for a way in. Nothing. All the carvings, firewood, and broken glass appeared to have vanished into the wind. Everything had been erased.

I know I'll find it again. Probably in the same way as before. Next time I don't think I'll show anyone. Next time I'll mark the entrance, next time I'll build a cairn, next time I won't lose it, I know.

Because I miss that place.

fukc fcuk fuck

2006-05-27T10:13:00.001-06:00

I don't really know where to start. A lot of both important and inconsequential things have occurred over the last three months, but nothing that deserves the minimal glossing I can provide through this.

It's a nice day and I'm going to the beach.

please don't [stop]

2006-02-18T12:03:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure why I haven't posted in awhile; I definately have the time to waste dropping a few lines. I have a multitude of posts started and saved waiting for some sort of epiphany, or at least the half-ass dedication to finish what I've started: bringing them from personal musing to published post. I edited a few of them together to hopefully serve as a short backlog to the random thoughts from my insipid life.

Normally the week speeds by and in a blink, I'm back in ERC on Sunday night till midnight trying to get everything done for the week. The more I think about it, the time-lapse just changed from weeks to hours. It's always after 4pm, which signals the demise of the opportunity to 'get everything done early and waste the rest of the day'. I've never been one to swear off drinking or any other habits because I know I won't hold myself to them (save the one time I did after waking up in my coat detailed below--I didn't drink for four weeks). Yet, every day I swear to myself its not going to be like the day before it; I will accomplish everything and have a fun night, only to fail like the day before.

Yesterday, on the University's normally crowded and bustling mall, a cold wind cut through even the best dressed. Those absolved to never skip class found themselves alone. The sunny clean concrete held a certain indifference to the change--an apathy only the heartbroken and valentineless envy. The collective shiver from the weather did nothing but fortify the notion that Spring Break cannot arrive soon enough.

This year's

2006-01-21T10:44:00.000-06:00

God Damnit.

Even though I left my house with plenty of time to get to work, I'm already seven minutes late and another five miles at 80mph on 35W. Fuck it, I waited in line at ERC for ten minutes to buy coffee for the office, they'll deal. The parking lot was completely empty when I arrived. I check the clock and it is 8:45--where was everyone? I sat in my car for a minute before I realized something must be wrong. I can still feel last night's liquor in my movements, I have to be imagining things. I touch the cold window to make sure I'm awake. This would definately be the most lucid dream I've experienced. I try calling my boss but the number has been disconnected. Maybe its not Saturday? My phone's calander convinces me otherwise. I look at the car clock again. It must be off: both phone and car somehow entangled in a cruel joke. With ten minutes before open, everyone drives up in a row. "Surprise, we decided to all go out for breakfast. We thought about calling you but then figured you'd be alright."... thanks.

I just noticed today a moderate pain on my the lower right side of my stomach. Maybe its my appendix ready to burst; maybe the debauchery is finally catching up to me. Safe bets say its the latter--I don't know why the sudden bout of hypocondria arrived. Work was unquestionably the busiest I have ever seen it in the 4.5 years I've been there. We'll see where the day goes from here.

Currently Listening to:

2006-01-02T18:58:00.000-06:00

I haven't updated in quite some time as I seem to have more to do when out of class then compared to the middle of finals--go figure. I'll start from where I left off.

I ended up working Friday/Saturday (30th and 31st respectively). Friday was pretty uneventful save going out to dinner with a friend at which I had an excellent time. Despite at least 3-4 party invites I had been having bad vibes about New Years even before Christmas. This is most likely based on the fact I don't know the last 'good' New Years I've had. Last year I had gone to the Big Wu Years Eve which was at the Radisson on campus, but I ended up much too drunk and passing out on the floor of my friends hotel room just after midnight. Years before were even worse. I had made plans to go shooting at the range with some goons and immediately after finishing work I met up with Todd and headed to the Burnsville Pistol Range. Together the group easily put through ~1000 rounds and I had the chance to shoot a Taurus chambered in .448--read as 'makes concussion that shakes every target on the range'.

Heading back to campus I picked up three bottles of champange on the way home. Peviously at work I had received a surprise facebook message from Molly (goes to school at ASU, rarely see eachother) indicating that she would be up in the cities hanging out with Ivy for the celebrations. Ivy had met a guy (Garret) in her spring break trip to South Padre Island last year who happened to be visiting as well. Deciding this would be my best bet for a good new years, our ecletic group ended up going over to Brant/Kurt's new house in the heart of the Minneapolis ghetto to revel in the arrival of 2006. At the party, I briefly struggled to get a game of tip-cup going out of which almost everyone who played was stoned enough to forget his/her own name. Accepting defeat I retired to just pounding back champange straight from the bottle on my own. 2006 came as 2005 left and overall I definately had the best new years to date. This isn't to say the night didn't have its drama, but it wasn't enough to ruin the night. We all crashed at Ivy's and in the morning we dropped of Molly at Melrose to head back home. Ivy, Garret, and I decided it only fitting to get breakfast at The Original Pancake House in Edina: it was delicious as always. The rest of the week was pretty uneventful. Monday through Thursday I worked and spent the nights taking care of all the litle things I've had on my to-do list for the last two months.

Sometime last week I had the following AIM conversation with my mom:
-------------------------
Mom: I found something online I want to buy--it has a little lock in the window and says its secure--can I buy it?
Brad: Uh... you should send me the link before you purchase anything.
Mom: How do I do that?
Brad/Mom: [15 minutes of conversation trying to explain how to post the link in the AIM window]
Mom: https://www.asseenontvnetwork.com/vcc/allstar/sweepnmop/141717/
Brad: ...
-------------------------
It reminded me of the reason I lie about my experience with computers.

Last night I went out with Kyle and Ross and decided I'll probably live with them after my current lease is up for next fall. Currently I'm back in Rochester and can't wait to leave. I don't know what it is about being here but from the minute I get home I'm looking for a reason to go back earlier than I had planned. Oh well.

Certified Mail

2005-12-29T17:56:00.000-06:00

gtfo my head

A dog with a joint

2005-12-28T20:12:00.000-06:00

Post-Christmas pre-New Years is a part-time employee perdition. Every forty hour employee is emptying out his/her vacation time cache. I guess I could just be angry at myself asking for 'every hour possible over break', but it feels easier creating some complex and pretenious allusion that ties in with the obscured title.

Go, go, hash collision: "Most hash functions have potential collisions, but with good hash functions they occur less often than with bad ones." English: You have two sets of data, which can be completely different information, and run a simple algorithim on it, and somehow these two completely different sets of data can give out the same answer. Most of the time this isn't a good thing. But really what is it that causes them to come out to the same solution? What if we extrapolate this beyond data and talk about two people. What makes two random people have any interaction at all? Is it their personality: likes, dislikes, hobbies (data)? Maybe its a friend working as an intermidate between them (algorithim)? I suppose I allign with the solution that I just have too much time to sit and think at work.

Only about 120 more hours to go.

And as informally promised, a dog with a joint (penny-arcade):

Merry Christmas: Vers. 2.1

2005-12-26T19:55:00.000-06:00

The ol' slag Santa treated me well this year. I did in fact receive the lusted Canon S70, though I find it much like losing one's virginity: you know what to do in theory, but in practice it seems to be much more complicated. Yet that was not the end of the loot; Santa knew of my cologne shortage as well as the tragic loss of my backpack only a few weeks ago.

Still, I received a different surprise today, on Canada's second favorite holiday Boxing day, that could be the best yet of the season: a clear head. I feel released from the anxiety I've been holding against for the last month--the surge is gone. In that I am nullified.

Because any return from this moment on, will always be nullified.

Gifts

2005-12-18T19:39:00.000-06:00

I've been so busy in studying that I completely forgot what I asked for christmas--even that Christmas is coming. Recalling Santa should be dropping off a beautiful Canon S70, my spirits definitely peaked--then piqued.

The entire last two weeks have been like a dream sequence: between the caffeine, long hours, and subsequent malnutrition, everything and everyone is just floating along. I'm just going to open my eyes and finals will be over and I'll be sitting on a couch with a drink in my hand at my family friend's Christmas eve party, no idea how the hell I got there and why I'm so intoxicated. Maybe I'm already there--intoxicated. Intoxicated with so many questions, I can't handle the answers.

I've been using the punching bag my roommate aquired earlier this fall to see if it holds any guidance. Since, my knuckles have been bloody even with my gloves, my arms are perpetually heavy, my hands haven't held still from the muscles twitching in my arm.

I guess it just takes some time to callous.

Lucid

2005-12-13T16:02:00.000-06:00

I'm at the golden point now between final assignments already turned in before the finals actually commence. As per my usual behavior, anything not directly involving school or sleeping becomes stagnant in time. Clothes are splitting and multiplying across my room, I continuously tip over the same empty beer bottle that has been sitting on my desk since last weekend. When does it end? I'll clean to bide my time when the inevitable hangover arrives the morning after my last final.

On the note of drinking, I haven't had more than the aformentioned beer for two weeks. A week from last Friday I was out with friends and awoke Saturday morning at 1pm with my jacket still zipped to my chin lying on my covers. After a hangover that was worse than any day at work--it lasted at least eight hours--I decided it was right time to cut back before these last few weeks of the semester.

In the end I guess I'd rather wake up with extra clothes on than none at all: I don't think I could emotionally handle actually losing a pair of boxers somewhere in the cold Minnesota night.

From Russia

2005-12-08T23:41:00.000-06:00

I owe someone an apology. In retrospect, though I didn't intentionally incur certain actions, I definately didn't put any thought into the reprecussions of the ones I did think about. In the back of my mind I guess I knew what I was doing and didn't care. I don't know if its just looking at the situation retrospectively I place guilt on myself because the pieces have come together or because someone told me at the time, "hey, you understand this situation and what you're doing?"--its probably the latter.

Regardless of my previous lapses of judgement, I still felt strongly enough after a minute of intense study to decide I was going to rejoin the only MMO I've ever played: eve-online. The general premise is your character is in space and you try your best to ruin someone's day. Piracy and scamming are the best parts of the game and people go through great lengths (spend 2-3 months infilitrating another corperation) to accomplish the goals.

beautiful -- click for full size

2 AM

2005-12-06T04:17:00.000-06:00

It's damn cold outside.

---
4°F
Feels Like
-19°
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The streets were empty as I drove home from the hospital. I think I like them better that way. There's almost a sadness and longing for the day that passed but an acceptance of its demise. Pick your favorite trig funtion--just a series of ups and downs. I don't know which I should be more concerned: comparing something as illogical as emotions to mathematics or the way it seems to fit so well.

A letter

2005-12-04T10:52:00.000-06:00

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Petrarch

2005-11-30T14:24:00.000-06:00

Finals are drawing near and I'm doing all I can not to tank the last few weeks. Looking ahead I'm going to try to stick around the house and work on homework Saturday night to prep my final study guides. I don't know if I'll be able to deviate from my usual aberrent behavior. I can't shake the feeling that I could be missing some crazy drunken debauchery that I'll never have the chance to make up. It's almost an unrequited love.

The American Heritage Dictionary offers only one explaination: "unrequited. adj. not reciprocated or returned in kind". I think it a fair assuption that in colloquial context it can also serve the lovee not aware the true intentions of the lover, or any knowledge the lover's existance.

I can hardly recall the last time I truely felt it. Sometimes looking at old pictures of friends in high school recall that feeling, but it still feels like a story from a book instead of the current reality. It is a haphazardous emotion regardless, a future relationship built in perfect mental blueprints but lacking any form of implementation. The thoughts are purged during the day by simply being too busy. But the design returns to you nightly, sipping your coffee and having a smoke your mind drifts back to it again. It always comes down to a simple dichotomy of whether you really want to know. When you flip the first card, hoping for a "1" or
"2 and draw again" to get out of your base, you're accepting the fact that your opponent will eventually get a Sorry! and in step remove you. Even if you play right the game it is still chance.

Christmas preperations

2005-11-28T12:56:00.000-06:00

I'm normally not an impulse buyer and though I had tentively planned on getting one, I bought an 8 ft Christmas tree this weekend. After assembling and lighting I have to admit my house felt a lot more like home, if you drive on 8th in Dinkytown regularly you can see it in our window between 13th and 14th. Right now there are only lights and candy canes hanging from the tree. We're going to be getting red bulbs and an angel to finish it sometime this week.

Revelling in the smell of Christmas, I thought it only right to take a picture in front of it with a thick knitted Christmas sweater. Better yet, all of the guys in the house should take their grandma gifted sweaters and send out it out on cards "Happy Holidays from 1323". I'm sure it would be well received by my parents and relatives, the thought I'm sending out my own Christmas card has some mixed feelings. The one I want to send out now is more of a joke than anything else, but when will it stop being a joke and have an letter accompanying it?

It sometimes feels like you stay the same age and kids just keep getting younger. When are you actually an 'adult'? Most people suggest after college, but most people are only 23. I thought it could be when you get an dog or cat but I have at three friends who are younger than I am with animals--four if you include a hedgehog. Same story with getting married or having a serious job, I can't fathom someone fresh out of school at 23 having any serious responsiblity that I normally attribute to adults. Maybe you have the same fears, problems, and worries at 30 that you do at 20.

The only real way to tell when you've crossed the line is when you legitimately send out your first Christmas card.