This broken ciTY sky...

I haven't written a blog in so long it hurts. So here I am, alleviating my intense pain. It's blog time. Nothing new ever happens to me, save a long-awaited appreciation for college and a football game. I've been to CBA four times in the last two weeks, which is more than some people that actually go there. Granted, two of those trips were football games, but thats still a heck of a lot of visits. Why don't I have anything better to do with my time?

Well anyway, I sort of like college now. I really like calculus, I rather appreciate computer science, and so on, but I still don't like the inconvenience of actually having to go, worrying about grades, and so on and so forth. But everyone has to deal with that, so I'm not alone.

Let me interject here. I JUST DROPPED GRAPHICS AND CAD! I'M A CHANGED MAN! I'M FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST! THANK GOD ALMIGHTY I'M FREE AT LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!

Okay, so anyway, yeah, college is starting to look up for me I guess. I can't wait until the breaks. Thanksgiving and Christmas and Spring Break and Summer can basically stop taking their dear sweet time about arriving. I'm a busy person, and I need to get to the important stuff right away before I no longer have time for it. Whatever, I guess I can wait a couple months for everyone to come home.

Enough about college. Everyone who reads this junk is already in college, so I don't need to talk about it. They know pretty much everything they need to, except that commuting basically sucks. But I'm not talking about that, because now I'm talking about

CBA HOMECOMING!

Alright, so it was pretty much your average nonsensical football game. The sport makes no sense whatsoever. I don't even watch the games. I just hang out with all the chill people that have the same idea to hang out with all the other chill people, and so everyone gets their fair dosage of chill people hang out time. I saw a lot of people I used to know (and still do, because I recognized them), but it still lacked the true spirit of the football games from last year. Obviously this year's homecoming game wasn't as good as last year's, because last year I got my first hands-on experience with real live drunks. It's pretty dang amusing until they get to the point where you have to walk them into the bathroom and make sure they don't fall over while just standing up and those sorts of things. It all worked out though, because it was an entertaining enough amount of time.

I'm failing miserably at this blog, because there just isn't anything that interesting to say about college or football. I don't do any cool, exciting, relevant, funny, etc. type stuff that your average dynamic character does, so I don't have anything to write about, and here I am stuck with a bland page of crap. Some day I will have a fun life though, and when I do you can be sure you'll be the first to hear about it. Right now, though, I'm frigging hungry for some of that Eggo waffle cereal that is the current object of my life's fulfillment. That said, I'm off to the kitchen for another satisfying bowl of joy.

The End

Where's the dang title?!

I'm taking a break from a particularly puzzling Sudoku to write about random every day crap in my blog. Sometimes this is a really good thing, but not now. I'm here at the Rensselaer Union (that is one of the cool things these days: I'm mobile, so I can write from a lot more different places than before, when I was usually confined to either the Guidance Office at CBA or the home computer, where I couldn't really get anything done without getting yelled at. Right now I don't have anything to do, nor am I really worried about it. Whenever I finish this Sudoku, which will happen after I finish this blog, I think I'll go look for something really awesome, like maybe dorm crashing (in other words, sneaking into dorms that I don't belong in (which is all of them) while people aren't looking or are opening the door to get in or out themselves. It's real, real fun, except once you get inside the sense of accomplishment fades quickly and you realize that there wasn't much point in doing it because no one knows you and you know no one). I'll probably look into getting dinner or some such joy, because as we know food is the only real nourishment in life, regardless of what anyone may try to tell you.

At the moment I'm puzzling over the "six degrees of separation" theory, which basically says that any person on earth can be linked to any other person on earth with six or less degrees of connection. Interestingly, the same theory has been applied to Wikipedia, and there is now a website that allows you to type in two things and it will link them in as few degrees as possible. I found that "bubble gum" and "Sputnik" were only four degrees apart on Wikipedia. I can't remember the website right now, and I don't feel like looking, but maybe later I'll add it on or something when I have nothing else to do.

Madagascar is the most unwatchable movie ever created. For three nights now I've tried to watch it and failed miserably due to distractions and oppressive (downright tyrannical) tiredness and workish type stuff that has to be done (for what reason, I sure don't know. The only thing I've actually learned from doing any work here so far is some really cool C++ codes that can do really simple things like add numbers together. Whee!). I reckon someday I'll be able to see the end of the movie (and the middle, while I'm at it, because I still haven't gotten there), but in the mean time I'll just have to chill out in anticipation of its glory.

Today I'm wearing my black thermal hoodie instead of my standard gray one. This is because cold weather keeps sneaking up on me and I'm getting sick of it. This hoodie sure is a heck of a lot warmer than the gray one, even if it doesn't have as much character. While I'm on the topic of clothing, I almost lost my beloved black Yankees hat on the shuttle this morning. I had it in my pocket at the time (and I still do, because I haven't put it on my head all day), and when I stood up it fell out. I realized just in time that it wasn't in my pocket and made a split second decision to flag down the shuttle driver, who stopped and let me back on. I did find my hat, and it's still in my pocket. Boy, what a good hat. I couldn't afford to lose it, that's for sure. There's much too much at stake.

I've now been out of class for 40 minutes, even though it seems like its been about three hours. There's so bloody much time nowadays. I pretty much don't have to worry about anything because time has increased in length since the summer ended. Why couldn't I live in this condition of slow time during the summer? That's when I really needed it.

By the way, bit torrent really sucks from my experience. I get much better connections on regular peer-to-peer filesharing networks, and while that may be more conspicuous, it's also a heck of a lot more efficient. I would rather download a file that isn't what it says it is in an hour and a half and have to download it again for another hour and a half than get a file that is labeled correctly and takes three days. Since I've now experienced both, I can say this with complete certainty. I guess this was a pretty pointless paragraph, because I abruptly ran out of things to say.

At this point I guess I'll get back to that Sudoku, hopefully with more insight towards the solution than I had before, and then I'll go be a really cool person and find something really cool to do, just like every really cool person does. I love really cool people, and diesel people, and most other kinds of people as long as they don't get on my nerves or try to kill me or anything. I sure, sure hope I can find a solution to this blasted puzzle, because otherwise I may be sitting here for a long long time not doing anything cool and more importantly not being a really cool person.

The End

Life's a mess. Why am I stuck cleaning it up?

I'm taking a brief respite from my huge amount of work to write this, because if I don't I will probably just go crazy or something. I actually don't have all that much work, but what I do have is an inability to do that which I have. What I mean is, I basically don't know what the heck is going on, so I can't finish the work [properly]. Computer science has succeeded in completely losing me again, except this time even the book can't help me, because it just doesn't tell me what I need to know. Graphics and CAD is probably the most monstrous 1 credit class I will ever take in my entire life. What the heck kind of 1 credit class is two hours a week AND an expected one hour of independent work, which happens to include (surprise surprise) video lectures? I'm not even learning anything in the class! I'm expected to spend my valuable time listening and watching a professor who is too good to teach a class himself! This to me is highly ridiculous. From now on, I'll make a point to watch out for those sneaky 1 credit classes.

Why do I even have all this to do in the first place, you ask? Partly because of procrastination, yes, but mostly becaues of a series of unfortunate computer problems. It all started a couple weeks ago when Laura decided that knocking my laptop on the floor from the bench in the kitched would be a real cool thing to do. At the time I thought nothing of it, because I didn't have any problems with the computer. Then, all of the sudden, out of nowhere, completely randomly, bang, last night everything decides it no longer wants to work. No internet connection, no browsers, no VPN client, no nothing. It just hates me. So what did I do? I did what any rational person would do: I went to the Vorhees Computing Center (VCC, for future reference) Help Desk. Let me put in a brief word about the Help Desk. It's sort of like technical support, except the people have some idea what they are doing, or at least some resources that can help them if the problem is slightly above them. Furthermore, dealing with Help Desk is a lot more fun in that you can laugh at your Impossible Computer Problem while they try to fix it, unlike when the tech support people with the incomprehensible accents sit there and talk you through running msconfig..."M as in Mary...S as in seltzer water...C as in cat...O as in onomatopoeia...N as in nincompoop..." and so on, while you sit there banging on your forehead with your palm or some other firm object. And even further more, these people are peers, fellow students, who understand what a grievous pain in the butt life and computing can be. Boy, I respect those Help Desk people. Last night I spent three hours (three hours!) at the Help Desk whilst they tried to diagnose the problem with my computer before finally concluding that it was suffering from terminal hard drive cancer. From here I was sent to the RCR (Rensselaer Computer Repair...don't you just love all these absurd acronyms?), who decided that a hard drive transplant was necessary. Fortunately I had backed up all but a few files, and those which I didn't back up are easily obtainable thanks to the continuing wonders of online piracy (argh!). By the way, today was International Talk Like a Pirate Day. So anyway, they put in a new drive, I went back to the Help Desk to have it re-imaged, and all was right with the world. Except not, because I'm still not finished with the gall-derned work I have to do. Why are you distracting me?

Fixing computers is real fun and relieving. There aren't many things that can compare to a good computer. Like they say (or said, way back when we got our laptops), "Happiness is a working laptop." Golly, were they ever right. Why am I not happy? Perhaps I can attribute it to the collection of assignments hanging over my head, ready to collapse and send me on my way.

But wait, there's more! I went back to CBA (ah, good old CBA) today for a brief visit, and ended up staying nearly an hour. The best part was going back to the art room during the end of 9th period and seeing all of the denizens of last year's Dynasty Art Class (most of whom weren't actually in the class). I went to Drill Team practice, but today was Regulation day, so nothing interesting was going on and I ended up leaving. It's still pretty sweet to walk into a building and instantly have everyone you used to know marveling at how much longer your hair is (that's basically what I got from everyone). Someday I will grow a really sweet beard and then they won't even be able to tell who I am. The point is, I have to go back there again some day, because there are just so many chill people there. I can't believe I just used the word "chill" in that context, but there's no going back now. Well, there is going back, but I for one refuse to partake in it. That would be a waste of precious, valuable time which I don't think is worth it at all.

Gee, I can't wait until I have friends again!

The End

Why would anyone want a glass house? That's just stupid!

This weekend was one I would call action packed. Of course, everything little thing is action packed when you’re sick and running on a very small amount of sleep. At any rate, this particular action-packedness stemmed from another grand flea market at that random vacant lot next to Guptills and the set-up and take-down thereof. Basically Friday and Saturday were completely booked, involving either setting up or making numerous trips to and from Guptills. Two fall ball games broke up what would otherwise have been a complete time monopoly on the part of the flea market. I honestly don’t remember anything that happened over the course of those two days except that we didn’t get home until 8:30 on Saturday night (which is at least a good two hours later than usual). That left me with Sunday (which was yesterday) to get caught up on school work and sleep. Incidentally, I achieved neither one, as I spent the morning at church and the afternoon watching Saw II and Star Wars Episode III (for what must be the 107^th time now).

Before I continue on the “grand scheme of things,” let me discuss Saw II. I would say I was grossly disappointed with the movie as a whole. I don’t feel like writing a spoiler here, so I’ll keep it pretty simple. Basically, I think it was a poor attempt to capitalize on gore and the success of the first movie. The plot twist at the end was lame; I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming a mile away, because at the end I was actually saying to myself “oh, duh.” It wasn’t nearly as suspenseful, and it sure lacked the pure psychological thrillingness of the first. I don’t want to say it sucked, because I didn’t quite suck, but had it been a standalone movie it probably would have. This being the case, I’m not anticipating Saw III to be any better (because generally movie sequels get worse with each number), and I’m sure not going to waste money seeing it when it comes out in the theater. Heck, that’s what online piracy is for.

Anyhow, back to the “grand scheme of things.” By the time I had finished my movie experience it was something like 5:00 and I was hungry. I lumbered on into the kitchen and got a couple slices of Italian bread and some Ibuprofen for my killer headache that suddenly developed itself over the course of 30 seconds, then went back into my room and slept for the next four and a half bloody hours. I hadn’t actually intended to sleep at all (I had put on Star Wars Episode III again (for the 108^th time)), but I managed to sleep through most of it and “listen” to what I was awake for. So I woke up around 9:30 realizing I hadn’t put the slightest dent in any of my homework. I dawdled a little bit, and then finally decided to get cracking on it once and for all. Some ludicrous technical difficulties prevented me from completing any of my assignments, but it was okay because I didn’t feel like doing them anyway. Nowadays I have almost all of the work done, so a few more short hours should have me on track for this week.

That brings me to today, where I sit now outside DCC 3116, waiting for another 14 minutes for “Living in Cyberspace,” the easiest class I’ve ever taken. Picture this: a four credit, four hour a week pass-fail class that consists of talking and/or doing whatever you want on your computer, and then picture it being the last class of every day, and then picture going home, and then picture…well, you get the idea. I love this class so much. Last time we spent a goodly while just adding links to the class website. I contributed the fat-pie flash toons website, home of Salad Fingers, Ptikobj, and other classics, the Factual Matrerials Essence of Douchebag Page, and the DeviantArt Interactive Buddy, who provided me with countless hours of Guidance fun during some of the more boring parts of last year. The possibilities of today’s class are, at this point, nearly endless.

Well kids, I think it may be time to go, because my butt is falling asleep from sitting on the floor (it’s real, real uncomfortable) and I pretty much don’t feel like writing anymore. I know you cool cats are all having a lot more fun than me, and right now I’m going to accept that fact and channel it into an intense bitterness over my own existence in a continuum of boringness. I think I’ll take a road trip to Madagascar after classes.

The End

This Is No Laughing Matter

Today I’m setting out to write about two things: the weather, and music. I probably will end up completely off topic as usual (well, I guess it’s not really “off topic,” as I never have a defined topic to write about). I guess I’ll hit up weather first since I have a lot less to say, and it’s really not that complex of an issue, unlike the music part, which could take me several hours to actually think out and then put into words.

Basically this: rain sucks. I’m tired of the non-stop day after day rain around here. I don’t know where it all came from, but it never used to rain like this. It just never ever stops. I can barely stand it anymore. I mean, I know its supposed to rain like this in Hawaii and Seattle and London, but this is Albany, New York (well, actually right now it’s Troy, New York, but it doesn’t make any difference, it’s still the Capital Region), the frigging capital of the best state in the world. It shouldn’t be raining like this. The weather really needs to chill out.

See, I’m a novice driver. I’ve only practiced this particular ritual for about a month now (excluding the “learning phase” where I had to drive with a parent, because that wasn’t really driving. It’s true what they say: you don’t actually learn how to drive until after you get your license), and I haven’t encountered all of the various types of situations that might possibly arise. I’ve driven in rain and I’ve driven at night, but last night was the first time that both of them attacked me full force at the same time. Driving in heavy rain at night is nothing short of scary. Lights are ineffectual, the roads are wet and slippery, and there are still maniacs insisting on driving 90 mph. It appalls me to see just how many people have death wishes (especially bicyclists, who are easily the most suicidal people on earth). Suffice it to say, I can’t wait until it starts snowing. I love the good old northeast.

I suppose I can easily transition from driving into music. But first, let me start off by saying that “musical sophistication” is a really ambiguous and ultimately stupid pair of words. I know of certain people who claim to be enlightened about “musical sophistication,” but since such people consider Tool to be sophisticated, they pretty much have no idea what they are talking about. Let me start off by saying that I would much, much rather listen to someone with a “whiny” voice than someone with a demonically possessed voice. The reason this whole issue arises is mainly because I am growing increasingly fond of My Chemical Romance as a whole experience, not just one good album. I started listening to “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge,” and let me say I was basically hooked instantly. The stuff on that CD is nothing short of amazing. But where did all this come from? I found out about their earlier CD, “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love,” but I was pretty satisfied with what I already had so I didn’t bother to check it out, and besides, I was told by a music guru of sorts (that would be Billy) that it wasn’t anywhere near as good. That was enough for me.

Well, the story doesn’t end there. Just recently I was watching an interview with MCR about their new CD, “The Black Parade,” which comes out in October. One of the things Gerard (the lead singer, for you unenlightened who don’t know) said was that with each album, they advanced far more than most other bands. In other words, the way one band grows over the course of four or five albums, MCR grows over the course of just two. Well, I thought, that’s interesting and maybe true, because after listening to “Welcome to the Black Parade” (one of the songs on the new album), I can tell you that they have changed a lot. So I went back in time and started listening to the first CD with a bit more enthusiasm. By this time I was already hooked on “Headfirst for Halos,” which in my opinion is their best song to date, so I had a small experience with the CD already, but nothing really in depth. So I started listening to the older music more and more. At first glance, it’s nothing more than “garage band” music; relatively boring, musically immature and undeveloped, and otherwise just not very good. This is simply not true. After listening to newer, more developed music, it seems that the older stuff is of a lesser quality, but in actuality it’s only different, not better or worse. It’s also really good driving music. In addition to “Headfirst for Halos,” great songs from this CD include “Skylines and Turnstiles” and “Demolition Lovers.” I still haven’t come to fully appreciate everything on the CD, but I’m getting there.

To say that MCR is not “musically sophisticated” (Mr. Juergens…) is simply absurd. The vast differences and developments between individual songs on a CD, let alone entire albums, is enough to show an intense level of sophistication. There are bands that make music that, for the most part, sounds all the same, but each and every MCR song is a drastically different experience. This is to say that no two songs are even remotely alike. In a lot of cases, the end of a single song can be surprising just based on expectations created at the beginning. One song that comes to mind here is “Cemetery Drive,” which at the beginning seems kind of weird and boring but gradually becomes an awesome song. To my mind, the ability to create such varying music shows infinitely more sophistication than “clever” lyrics about California sinking into the Pacific Ocean. That’s what I call genocidal sadism.

I don’t even want to talk about the “emo” issue. There’s just too bloody (pardon the pun) much to say. Let me say this though: while Wikipedia lists MCR as one of the purportedly emo bands, it first says: “Correctly or not, emo has often been used to describe such bands as…” Please, everyone, take not of the words “correctly or not.” That means Wikipedia does not state as a fact that any band is emo, and therefore anyone who whips out the “if Wikipedia says it, it must be true” hasn’t really read the article. Furthermore, the Wikipedia article on MCR lists them as “alternative rock.” Please, if you’d like a word on musical sophistication and its relation to MCR, read the first paragraph of the Wikipedia article at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Chemical_Romance. It’s good stuff.

On that note (since this is running really long and basically lacks any form of humor), I think I’ll leave off. Besides, I have big (huge) important things to do, like Calculus.

The End

A Wednesday Morning Rant

The morning is rapidly going away (it's 11:00 already, which means in an hour it will be afternoon), so I had to hurry on in here to type this post. I suppose, as usual, that I don't have anything particularly pressing going on in my life, so this is ultimately an exercise in futility, but I'm going to stick it out to the bitter end. Today I sit on a bench in the entrance hall of the Russel Sage Laboratory building, which is sort of diagonally across from the J. Erik Jonsson Engineering Center, which is pretty much right next door to the Darrin Communications Center, which is right next door to the George M. Low Center for Industrial Innovation, which is just a short walk to the pedestrian bridge (probably my favorite part of the entire campus). Across from the bridge lie nearly endless possibilities, including the Mueller Center, Public Safety, the Rensselaer Union, and Freshman Hill (for some reason colleges designate hills for freshman housing...don't ask me why). I'm far away from all that fun, though, because in just 48 short minutes I have a wondrous computer science lab in which I will complete the assignment that I nearly finished last night and probably just goof around for a while.

A quick(ish) word about computer science: I used to hate it, but ever since I started gradually understanding C++ (for you computer illiterates and semi-literates, that's a programming language), I've grown rather fond of the class, if not the grading policies of the professor. It's all good, though, because he teaches the material well and is basically hilarious. I guess that's all I have to say about computer science right now, so it did, in fact, turn out to be a quick word.

Every day I inadvertently test my limits a little more in terms of getting to school on time. Today I left home at roughly 9:15 (a minute or two after, actually) and arrived at 9:38, just in time to catch the shuttle to campus and arrive at the DCC 8 minutes early for calculus. And, I might add, this included running into some hefty traffic on route 7 (for some reason everyone in New York State was taking 7 and getting on 787, and there was a massive, massive, huge line of cars, trucks, buses, and other such automobiles backed up for several hundred miles). So as it turns out, I am an on-time type person, especially for such important things as classes.

After staring off into space for a couple of minutes, I realized again that my life is completely boring, leaving me with very few things to mention other than the mundane realities of life such as going to school, doing work, and sustaining myself (to include eating, sleeping, etc.). Perhaps if I attempted extreme stunts every day and managed to survive against all odds I would have a more fun narrative of my experiences. Suppose I was a volcano jumper, for instance. I could find erupting volcanoes and attempt to jump over them on a bicycle or a motorized wheel chair. Motorized things are fun. One on occasion I got to drive one of those Mart Karts they have at Wal-Mart, and I would rank that among my top 25 favorite random experiences. The satisfaction you can take from sitting down in a battery operated chair-cart and scooting around the aisles is amazing. I hope I never become handicapped, though, because that would pretty much take the fun out of it completely.

I'm freaking hungry, which is ironic because my lunch is sitting about a foot to my left, occupying the very same bench on which I sit now. Why don' I eat it, you ask? That question, like many, many others that have been posed, is one of those universal mysteries that will never be answered until after we die and finally gain a real understanding of Life, the Universe, and Everything. Don't get me wrong, I'm not rushing death or anything (I'm rather enjoying my short stay here on earth). At any rate, I don't feel like getting into metaphysics now (or ever, for that matter), because I like to be more grounded in the concrete structures of reality than the abstract blobby shapes of...abstraction. That is, of course, until it comes to Art, at which point I like to be as blobby and abstract as possible. Weirdness makes Art cool, because it's allowed. If you're an Artist, you're pretty much a professional weirdo. What could be cooler than that? Only one thing: being an Artist who rides around Wal-Mart in a Mart Kart. That would be the ultimate life experience.

I seem to have lost sight of the tracks on which my train of thought should be moving, as you can see by the relatively random and jumpy nature of the subjects mentioned above. I think this means two things: I'm hungry, and computer science lab starts in 30 minutes. 30 BLOODY MINUTES! WHO HAS THAT KIND OF TIME?! I sure don't, but I really want to eat my dang lunch. I really, really do. Some day I will eat that blasted lunch, and I will enjoy it so much. I will especially enjoy the pack of six chocolate donuts that comes at the very end, the encore performance following the sensation of peanut butter and jelly. You know, with a few short exceptions, I have always taken peanut butter and jelly to school for lunch. Every so often I would throw in a week or two of turkey or perhapes "Fluffernutter," which I prefer to call peanut butter and Fluff (after all, we don't call PBJ "Jellernutter," because that just sounds stupid), or the very very occasional bought lunch consisting of pizza, but aside from that I have always, always come to school armed with a lunchbox (or bag, as is now the case) full of PBJ, some form of snack food (whether it be chips, fruit, or small candies) a napkin, and a drink (normally a canned soda but lately strawberry-kiwi Snapple). Someone could probably turn this into a psychological study or something and predict that one day I will be a world record holder in string rolling or something completely silly just because every day I eat the same thing. I think it's a positive indicator that I'm destined for greatness. Do you know what George Washington was eating as he crossed the Delaware River? That's right, peanut butter and jelly. And a lot of other food as well, apparently, but I don't really know the specific details. For now, just know this: leading experts say peanut butter and jelly makes babies smart (substitute "Mozart" for "peanut butter and jelly" and then name that movie).

Golly that paragraph was lengthy. I seem to be in a creative flow today, but sadly I have to break that flow for food and classes, but in just a few short hours I will be at home enjoying myself, slowly becoming inspired to turn into the coolest person ever, if I'm not already. And now, it's time for me to go. Just remember, kids: They float. They all float.

The End

Day #1: The Journey

Today I took an adventure to Price Chopper. I was sent on a mission to recover some milk for general consumption (as our stock of milk had run dry a few hours earlier). So I beebopped on over to the store and got some milk. The end.

What's the lesson here? Well, there isn't one. But I did realize one thing: I shop with a purpose. There are few times when I walk determinedly to places. I usually like to just chill out and take my time going from point A to point B. But when I switch into shopping mode, I become a machine bent on completing the mission with which I was tasked. So it was today; I walked from the front of the store to the refrigerated section (mind you, this is Price Chopper, so the whole store is 27 below zero (measured in degrees Fahrenheit); the refrigerated section is somewhere around 42 Kelvin, if you can fathom that awesomely cold temperature) on turbo mode, scooped up three gallons of milk and placed them in the cart, and practically swooped back to the checkout line. What does all this say about me as a person? I don't know, but if I handled school work with the tenacity I show towards shopping, I would be unsurpassed as a student. Maybe I should look into getting a job as a professional shopper. Heck, if I worked for a celebrity I could make some good money while buying fiendishly expensive stuff. Then people might think I was a celebrity, and I could be in a movie and become a celebrity and do my own shopping for free. Next time I see a shopping internship available, I'll be sure to take it.

I suddenly remember that this blog is a lot better than the Myspace one. Since the cancellation of my Myspace account last night, I have despaired over the seeming end of my blogging career. But did I give up? No, and here I am back on blogger, the former host of my masterpiece, "I Am the Anomaly." But those days are over, and that blog is long gone from the realms of cyberspace, only to be replaced by this one. This blog is no trifling piece; no, this is the blog of a college student. I have matured far beyond what I once was as a high school student. Perhaps you have noted the more Spartan (I've always wanted to use that word like that) look of my blog. In prior posting experiences, I opted for a very flashy, aesthetically pleasing template, but I've since become more simplistic, and what I have now is about as basic as a blog can get.

Just in case anyone is wondering, I don't plan on titling every post with "Day #x:" and then a clever title. I figure that's just a one time deal, because usually I can't think of a clever title anyway and wind up just putting something stupid. Today I just happened to take something of a journey, and this is the first post ever on this new blog, so it deserved to be recognized in this fashion.

I really don't know what else to say. College is a disappointing experience. If you can picture this, it's pretty much just like high school, except the work is more plentiful and makes less sense, the grading policies are absurd, and the classes are exponentially larger. Granted, I went to a small school, so maybe there were lectures of epic sizes in some high schools, but I never experienced it myself. Further, I have no (literally, zero) friends this year, because all of my friends go to different schools. This means that every day is a miserable journey to and from classes with no real hope of anything exciting ever happening, nothing fun to look forward to, and no one to talk to. A fine experience, indeed. I always thought that people who said high school is the best four years of life just never went to college; no, it seems they were just right. I'm sure not having a good time at college. I've only been there two weeks and I can't wait until the four years is up. In all honesty, I never wanted to rush high school graduation. Life is such a disappointment, let me tell you.

I think that's about all I have to say right now. And by that I mean I can't even think of anything to say in closing. I'm just completely at a loss for words. This rather sucks.

The End