Do I like discipline?

One word I'm really sick of seeing tossed around is "maturity." I contend that half of the people who use this in their everyday vocabulary not only don't know what it really means, but also aren't mature themselves. It seems to me that "maturity" is the adult (and pretentious adolescent) trend, or perhaps set of trends, analogous to being "cool" in middle school. It's what everyone strives to be, even though they don't realize they're all just making idiots out of themselves. The way I see it, it's more about insecurity than anything else.

I'm secure where I am. I love to buy toys, goof off, watch children's television, and otherwise just enjoy the things I naturally enjoy. I don't think this makes me immature in any way. I'm in no rush to "grow up;" I doubt I ever will. What's the big deal? I don't want to have to put on a straight face all the time. I don't want to read only "literature." And I don't want to only find humor in things that are sexual in nature (or even find humor in it at all; but that's a whole other topic). What I want is for people to get over themselves and their pompous idea of what it means to be mature. If you ask me, real maturity is wisdom, and that's not something you get by putting on airs.

Earlier today I really wanted to watch Heroes. I can't watch it though. Why? Because the stupid writers went on strike. What the heck were they striking for? Better wages? What pretentious idiots. Are they so lofty as to think they are the only ones capable of writing television shows? If I were in charge, I would have fired the whole lot of them, just like Reagan canned the air traffic controllers. I'm sure everyone is praising these losers, but I'm not. They messed up my television shows. I won't get to watch 24 until next January. I haven't seen a new episode of The Office in months, and there are only a few left in the season now, even when it does come back on. Heroes won't be back until the fall, and Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles ended after only nine episodes. I don't even know if they will continue making that show. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing the writers accomplished was making my life worse. I would gladly accept a job writing a TV show for whatever wages I would be payed. I would consider that to be an awesome career. But these ungrateful prats aren't content with what they have; they have to get more, and inconvenience me (and countless others) in the process.

This one time (a couple weeks ago) I had this Dawn of the Dead based dream about a zombie apocalypse occuring at BARH. Zombies were all over the place, tearing down the doors and just making trouble. Being level-headed like I am, and knowing how to defeat them, I headed in the direction of my car in the parking lot to get some guns and shoot the wretched creatures. Let me pause right here and say this was not a nightmare, not in the least. It was more like a first-person action movie. Basically, it was boss as crap. Okay, so my progress out of doors from the A-wing side of the building was impeded by zombies, who were swarming outside the main entrance to the building. I decided I would have to go through C-wing to get out. As I passed through the lounge, I saw the C-wing club preparing their arsenal of Nerf guns to stave off the attack. I said to them, "You know, Nerf guns don't do anything to zombies. They're just going to bounce off." The wouldn't listen to me. I grabbed a nearby crowbar, and with Mike Battista following behind me, headed for the C-D-wing bridge. It was very long and dream-distorted (in fact, in real life there's no reason I ever would have gone there on my way out), and there were a few zombies there, which I soundly defeated using my makeshift Gordon Freeman-esque weapon. Finally we got to a room in C-wing, where we proceeded to remove the screen from the window. Mike Battista informed me that this particular room must have been August's room from the previous year, as they frequently removed the screens during their residence (this has no actual basis in reality; August lives in the same room this year as he did last year, it is not the one in question, and as far as I know he has never removed the screen from the window). At this point Tir entered the dream, bringing with her a few zombies, which we proceeded to kill off. We tied the sheets together from the bed to form a makeshift rope and climbed out the window. It was at this point that I realized, when she turned into a zombie, that in the midst of the fight Tir had been wounded and infected by a zombie. Naturally I said we needed to shoot her, but then she turned back into a person again, not having been fully infected (in actuality, it doesn't work like this; one need be bitten by a zombie to become infected, and once so, they are irredeemable). Finally, we got to my car, which turned out to actually be a van, and I pulled out a duffel bag full of guns. We took up arms and shot a few of the zombies, and that was when the dream ended. I can only speculate as to the fate of the C-wing club and their ill-effective Nerf weaponry, but I certainly hope they came to their senses and escaped with their lives.

There's this kid Ben, who is nine years old, and is absolutely the most disgustingly good Guitar Hero player I have ever seen. The conclusion I have drawn is that he is actually that kid from The Twilight Zone who wishes people to the corn field and turns that guy into a really creepy jack-in-the-box (from the episode "It's a Good Life," which positively freaked me out when I was younger). That kid had control over basically everything in live, including the television, so it is no leap to surmise that this child would have the same control over Guitar Hero, and is thus the same exact person. I simply cannot comprehend the dexterity with which he commands that fake plastic guitar. It's absurd.

That basically concludes what I have to say for the night. Hopefully this short exercise in remedial blogging will lead to a flood of new ideas and insights which I can transpose into electronic form for the pleasure and edification of my fans and readers. My blogging usually follows a sinusoidal pattern; it goes way up, and then down again, and then flares up, and...you get the idea. At least, if you know what "sinusoidal" means. Since I've become an RPI student, I've barely even given the word a passing thought, so common is it. Oh, life at a nerd school. Anyway, this concludes my text broadcast. Godspeed, and goodnight.