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I did a quick Google search for that phrase, and found that it is nowhere on the internet. It is now.

Isn't the internet great!!!

Now I just have to get Google to include my page in its database.

The guys next door to me have a mock Time Magazine cover on there door that has a picture of George Bush, and the phrase "We're F**ked" underneath it (with the asteriks). That about sums up my opinion.

I voted in my first presidential election two days ago, and I must say that it one of the funniest ordeals in my life (and not in the good way). I will express my disgust and rage at the government here, where all can enjoy and be enraged by it. I will go ahead and throw my oppinions and frustrations into the fray with the hundreds of other web complaints out there. Bush must not surf the internet much.

Oh, and I was wrong about Half Life 2. It turns out that it is actually coming out on the 16th, not the 1st, like EB Games originally stated. Whoops!

Things can change very quickly. I'm not really talking about anything in paticular, just things. Complicated things. Like, for example, when you are being chased by a bear. A big bear, maybe a grizzly. It just keeps chasing you relentlessly knocking over everything in its path. Whenever you think that you are away from the beast, it breaks through the brush behind you, ready to maul you completely. You run and you run, trying to escape the bear. You didn't do anything to it; it found you. Okay, so maybe you gave it a steak, which has given it the taste for blood, and now it wants to try something a little more gamey. You cast off everything that might lure the bear. The beef jerky in your pocket that you were saving for later. The bottle of bear pharamones that you used to lure the bear in the first place. You even give up your bear skin hat, thinking that perhaps the bear was wanting revenge. You turn to face the bear, thinking that you might be able to scare it away. I just keeps lumbering down upon you, and your fear makes you run. You get very tired. You think that you can't go on any more, and the bear will surely catch you and maul you at any moment. You just want to be rid of the bear forever; you just want to have peace. With your last ounce of strength, you climb a tree. You pull yourself up into the tree with all of your might. The stray branches cut your skin, and the action strains your muscles, but you keep climbing without caring about the pain. Finally, you think you are safe. You relax, and then you look down. The bear begins to climb the tree after you. There is no escape now. You jump down, climb out of the tree, and await your doom. The bear looks into your eyes, you feel its breath against your face. It reaches up its paw and leaps at you. With a great force, you fall to the ground, the bear on top of you. This is it, you think. The bear has you. You hope it kills you quickly. The bear's head gets closer. It opens its mouth. It licks your face. It just wanted to thank you. You now have a new friend.

See? Things can change very quickly. First you think that the bear is going to kill you, but then it turns out to be your friend after all. Metaphor.

I feel really Taoist right now. I think I will change my quote.

And another thing:

I think that I got my housing situation planned out for next year. I will be living in one of the larger rooms here at Meredith Hall. They are pretty nice: private bathroom, a comfortable ammount of space, high speed internet, everything a guy like me needs. I hope to room with my current next door neibor, Barry Schatz. Or maybe Chris Fancher (he's looking over my shoulder right now). He always jingles his keys from a lanyard, which is getting a little tattered. Anyway, I think that it will be pretty good for Scott and I to take a break from constantly seeing each other. We really catalyze many of each other's problems. Don't get me wrong, he's awesome, and I love him, but we have our flaws, just like every relationship in the universe.

I have spent the entire weekend working on my second web project for CGT 141. This web site is about Tron, and it will probably never see the light of day. It's okay, nobody cares about Tron. You can check my projects page if you really care that much. I may put it up locally, but only if I get at least 20 e-mails from fans recommending that I do so. Ha. Take that.

I love the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It's great how it doesn't just show relationships as perfect. They, like everything else in the universe, have flaws. It's not just a perfect love story. The music is great, too. I - um - bought the soundtrack, and it makes me cry every time. I can't listen to it; it's too much. No, I actually just had something in my eye. Yeah, that's it. right.

CLEMENTINE: I wish you'd stayed.
JOEL: Me too. I wish I had done a lot of things. I wish I'd. . . I wish I'd stayed.

I wish I'd stayed, too. I'm sorry.

You know what sucks?

Crashing on your bike. Landing on your face, and your hand. Your writing hand. On concrete. Wearing a heavy backpack (which does crash into the back of your head). Yeah. That sucks big time. I am wincing as I type this, because I have lost some skin on my left hand, and I will soon have a massive bruise on my elbow. I broke my front reflector on my bike, scraped up the front of my handlebars, and almost broke my watch. Yeah, that sucks. I have a freaking scratch on my chin. I can only hope that people think that it's acne. Yeah, that sucks. Damn curb.

Oh, well. I am still alive, and no bones are broken (I think). I get to play Half Life 2 tonight, so everything should turn out okay.

When it happened, I just wanted to lay there for a while. Let my head stop swimming. Let the pain catch up to me. It turns out that you can't do that when you fall down. If you don't get immediately up and ride off, people think you're dead. That might end up being a problem. Therefore, it's best to just hop back on that bike, and ride off. As I rode off, I thought about that Neosporin commercial (the one where the kid crashes on her bike, and her mother gives her some neosporin). That kid had a big cut on her chin (much bigger than mine, so it could be worse). It really made me think about neosporin commercials, though. They always show comparisons of cuts with neosporin and without, and they are identical cuts. How the hell do they do that? Do they pay people to get scarred for life, or is it makeup? I don't know which is worse.

Just makes you think. . .

I suppose that I should comment on Half Life 2. I have spent a good amout of time on the game, and I can tell you that it is one of the greatest games ever made. It makes Doom 3 look pointless. It plays like a feature film, and grips you like nothing I have ever seen, books, TV, movies, and theatre included. It is probably the first game that actually convinces me that I am in a different place. The graphics are so amazing, that I feel the world that I am in. The story is extremely engaging, and the facial animations of the characters really makes me believe that they have their own emotions and feelings. It is an amazing spectacle. Half Life 2 is the dawning of a new age of computer games. It gives you a glimpse at the limitless possibilities that computer games have. Instead of simple diversions, games could be glorious works of art, comperable to any movie, and much more engaging. It's a testament to the power that computers have. Now, if you will excuse me, I will get back to my game.

I am really excited about this week. I am about to go home for the duration, and I can't wait. My family just got a new puppy, and his name is Ted E. Bear (I think it's corny, too). My dad's entire family will be getting to gether this week for Thanksgiving, also, and I can't wait to see them. I will elaborate when I get back, provided I don't have too much else to do.

I'm back from the craziest Thanksgiving week ever ^TM, and I am ready for the last three weeks of school. Right now I am watching Back to the Future, which is a great movie. My family and I watched the whole trilogy in the days before I came to school, and I am getting ready to finish the semester. It makes me wish that I was back home. And just this morning I was with my parents at home, wanting to get back to my computer.

I really promise to give the whole scoop about the week, and I will deliver on that promise. Just give me a little time.

Okay, so Thanksgiving was great. Here's the scoop:

Well, actually it's here.

Check out the rest of my site, too, because I made a bunch of little tweaks, changes, and I have hidden lots of cool suprises.

If anyone knows a bunch about Gentoo linux, please email me and we can talk. I am having some trouble with my ethernet connection.

I feel like crap

I just played my first game of Wallyball (volleyball in a raquetball court). It was awesome. I don't know if it was the cold outside, or the physical excersize, or the fact that I have a slight cold, or the fact that I haven't gotten enough sleep lately, or a mixture of all of them, but I really felt bad when I got back from the game. I wanted to lie down, but I couldn't because my bed is too hard to climb into (when you feel really bad). I was walking to the bathroom, and I started to loose my grip on reality. I shut my eyes.

Like a dream, I heard something collapse on the floor. As I layed there in the middle of the hall, the world swimming around me, I just wondered what was going to happen next. First, I had to find out why I was on the floor, which was easy when I coupled the collapsing noise with the fact that I was, in fact, collapsed. Then I had to start thinking about moving somewhere else. I didn't want to get up, but as I have said in earlier posts, you absolutely cannot stay on the ground when you fall down, otherwise people will think that you are dead. The thing is, though, that I was actually in physical duress, and I might have needed actual help. At what point is it okay to stay collapsed? When I am actually dead? At any rate, I was able to acheive enough cohesion to realize that someone opened the door at the end of the hall, so I looked up at them, and sort of wiggled to the side. You know, like it was completely normal that I was laying in the hallway. This might be a problem for me. Even when I am collapsed in the hallway, I still have to worry about my environment. I knew that no matter what, I had to go somewhere else. Luckily I was recomposed enough to say that my room was too warm, and it was more comfortable in the hallway. I was able to climb into my bed, and lie down. I am fine now. Fine enough, anyway. It was really wierd, though. Now I have to get ready to talk to my parents, who will undoubtedly freak out when they read this.

The Saturday night movie tonight is Master of Disguise (one of the worst/greatest movies ever). That will cheer me up.

I saw Garden State today. It is a really great movie. It shows Natalie Portman's amazing talents well. She is one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood. She is an amazing actress, she was in Star Wars, and she goes to an Ivy League school. That is really attractive. Anyway, the movie really made me rethink a lot of things about my life. The new plans are still forming in my mind (perhaps their complexity caused my mind to lock up earlier), perhaps the future will show new outlooks on life.

time for sleep now

My last and final math test is today after lunch. This is the only math class that I have to take, so this is the last math test I will ever have to take in my life, provided I do well on it. I need a C or higher in the class, so the test better be curved pretty well. There are some concepts that I don't understand at all. How do you find the centroid of a quarter-circle with radus r? I hope that one isn't on the test. I can find the centroid of an irregular curve, but not that. Oh well. It's never as bad as you think it is, so I just have to remember that. I should do okay. maybe.

I have made some changes to the site, for those of you who care. Now older entries are located in a page called "olds". I have done this so that the "news" page doesn't get really cluttered up with entries. I prefer to list the entries in chronological order, so that is what I have done in the "olds" page. I can't do that on the "news" page because it's easier to do it in reverse chronological order. Anyway, the new page is up and running, and you can see the extra link over next to "news" on the sidebar. Thank you for caring.

Also, I should report that my first college semester is wrapped up, and I feel pretty good about all of my classes. The math test that I was so worried about was way easier than I thought. My new life slogan is "it's never as bad as you think". There you go.

The year is up, and what a year it was for PC gaming. Two legends finally came out, and some interresting beauties came, starting new legends. To wrap things up, I will run down my pick for the year's best games (PC only). I also rant about Vampire: Bloodlines.

See the List here

Sometimes, I like to go to car dealerships and look at the Porsches, even though I will probably never have one. I will look around, find one I really connect with, and sit in it. I like to pretend that it's my Porsche, and I am driving down some back country road and enjoy the scenery. It makes me feel more driven, more motivated in life, like I have this Porsche that I need to worry about and make paments for. I pretend that I am driving around and showing off my nice car to all of my friends who don't have cars. I like to do all that, even though I will probably never have one.

A very major chapter of my life has closed. Several years ago, I wanted nothing but to be a professional actor. I gave that up, but I still loved performing. I actually promised people that I would get into the theatre department here at Purdue. I wish I hadn't now. I see what professional theatre is like. It's distilled, taken down to it's root elements. It's examined, picked apart, and looked at with a mathematical eye. It is no longer an art, it is a science. I can't deal with that. It sucks. Would we take a Davinci apart like that? Someone probably has. I don't understand it. For me, theatre is a chance for me to have a place in society. It gives me a purpose. All too often in my life, I feel lost because I don't know what to say, or I don't feel like myself. When I perform, I know exactly what to say, and exactly who to be. Sometimes I feel like it's the only thing I do really well, but I can't do it, and will likely never again do it. I made a choice. I chose computer graphics over theatre. That was my decision, and it will turn out okay in the long run. Everyone has to leave the hundred-achre wood at some point. I now have to decide if I should drop the theatre minor, because it is totally not going to help me like I thought it would. Pain in the ass.

I am very mad. A greivous crime has been commited. Expletive deleted.

For the entire year, I have had a "men" sign outside my door, just like ones that are outside some bathrooms. I bought it at Staples, so you's better stop thinking that I stole it. I loved it so much, because every once in a while someone would think that our room is the bathroom, and we laughed at them. I really liked that. Well, it will never happen again, because some horrible person -- some evil bastard of Hell -- stole the sign!!! I can't believe it. Who would steal a "men" sign? For crying out loud!!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to go cry about it.

Barry Schatz and Chris Fancher approached me last night with a plan for next year's housing. I wasn't aware that there was a three person room, but there is one right down the hall. SE150 is it's name. It is the coolest looking room ever. It has two sepparate rooms, one for the beds, and one for a couch and TV. It has a private bathroom, which is cleaned every friday. Perhaps the best feature is that it costs the same as one of the doubles, per person. Housing applications come out today, and we have to turn it in first thing tomorrow so that we will be the first one's in line for the room. It's extremely lucky that the current residents aren't planning on returning next year, because if they were we wouldn't be able to take it. This is definitely a w007 situation.

If it takes forever I will wait for you

For a thousand summers I will wait for you

Till you're here beside me, till I'm touching you

And forevermore sharing your love

I came across a really cool web site. It's called the "rasturbator." Before you start coming up with gross things that "rasturbater" could mean, I will tell you. The site allows you to upload any picture of your choice, and it will blow it up, rasterize it (turn it into hundreds of little dots), and format it for print on a bunch of letter sized paper. We found a nice picture of Keira Knightley, and "rasturbated" it (we had a lot of fun telling random people that we were rasturbating). I have some great pictures, if you will just

click here . . .

It snowed again last night. That's making it really hard to go to class. I just want that on record. It's very hard to ride a bike on snow, so I have to walk whenever there's too much on the ground. It needs to warm up and stay that way. I didn't even wear a jacket yesterday, that's how warm it was. I'm getting really really sick of Lafayette weather. It gets old fast. Now I have to study for my theatre test tomorrow morning. I don't want to get up for that, but I probably will since the exam is kinda' important. Since when was 9:00 too early? I guess I have so little motivation for life anymore that I don't even want to get up in the morning. I slept for a good 8 and a half hours last night, and I still could hardly wake up. Maybe I'm just sick or something. Maybe I just need something to care about again.

The cafeteria in Earhart hall serves a desert that they call "make your own dream." They have these lousy cheescake things, with an assortment of toppings. I looked at those toppings today, and I looked at that little sign they have. "Make your own dream" is what it says. It belongs in one of those futile motivational books. The ones which only work because whoever is reading them decides to stop being an asshole and just live like a human is supposed to. "Make your own dream" sounds like some tagline from a bad Britni Spears song. One of those purely commercial songs who's only purpose is to promote some new product. In the video, Britni would wear some skimpy outfit and be one of those assholes who needs a motivational book. "Make your own dream" sounds like a slogan from an overused armed forces commercial. "Make your own dream in the US Naval Marine Guard. Fight for fredom clearing beaches of empty beer cans and used condoms." Why is it that people try to be motivational with stupid taglines like that, when the only useful application for it is a mediocre dessert. Of all the times anyone has ever said "Make your own dream," it has only made sense when it was delivered with canned strawberry-topping and crunched up heath bars. I made my own dream today with the toppings I chose, although I mostly just wanted plain cheesecake. I wish life were that easy. I wish that every time something crappy happens to someone, they can just sprinkle M&M's or canned strawberry-topping on it and make it their dream. Maybe the world would be a little stickier, but would that be so bad? How I wish life were that easy. I am in desperate need of a dream, like that one where Natalie Portman was in my kitchen at home. I would love for that to happen, just for the pure value of being able to meet Natalie Portman. Dreams come and go. They sneak up on me and confuse me. They excite me and they get my hopes up. They never come true. My dreams never come true. I can make all the dreams I want, but they will always just be dreams. Everytime I think a dream has finally happened for me, it ends up being lousy cheesecake covered with canned strawberry-topping.

Don't sue me, Britni

The wind can blow.

I am a blade of grass, wind cannot hurt me, I will only bend with it. The rain only strengthens my roots. The gardener cannot kill me, and in fact he helps me grow. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can stop me. I am eternal, because I will not be destroyed. My mind is free. My sense is clear. Nothing hates me. I accomodate all things: feet, livestock, trees, everything. Anything that can happen to me will only strengthen me. I am now alive. Goodbye Shauvon. I am now Siobhan, a living member of this earth.

Although I may just keep signing my name "Shauvon," just to keep things simpler.

When I graduated from high school, I vowed that I would never return to that awful place. Don't get me wrong, Mt Vernon High School isn't the worst place in the world, it's just that high school wasn't my paticular cup of tea. I was so quick to forget high school, that I didn't even attend my own commencement, a fact that I doubt I will ever regret. The last thing I want is something that will make me start to worry about the trappings and chore of a high school student once again.

Imagine my suprise, then, when I found myself doing exactly that.

There's a hubbub going on in my hometown. It's a hubbub that threatens to consume the enire population in an epic stuggle, the likes of which haven't been seen since -- well, since the Bush administration came into office.

What could it be? Click here if you dare.

Life is good.

It's really refreshing to have people -- well, peers -- who really care about me. Where I grew up, in school if you showed any sort of emotion at all, you were quickly tought that "people do not behave like that." Well, I am free from that, and I now have friends who truly care about me. Friends I truly care about. When I'm in an unhappy mood now, someone will actually talk to me about what's bothering me. My whole life, I always thought to myself, "college is going to be so awesome," etc. First semester, I wouldn't have agreed with it, but now I sure do. This past couple months has been the best couple months of my life. The only thing that could make this any better would be if Star Wars was coming out on my birthday again. OH WAIT, IT IS!!!!! Yeah, that totally r0xx0rz.

Seriously, though, the one real downside to this year is pretty blaringly obvious. I really miss my parents. They were always there for me. I could have intelligent conversations with them, without fear of them bashing my ego against the wall. I feel so bad about the fact that I haven't called them as much as I could have. I think the reason I haven't been thinking about them very much is that if I started thinking about it, I would really begin to realize how much I really do miss them. I miss eating breakfast with my Dad. I miss talking to my Mom about school. I miss playing "trucks" with my Dad. I miss having Mom read books to me before I went to sleep. I miss my Dad's infinite and artistic craftiness. I miss my Mom's ability to write the perfect thing at any time. Now I'm starting to cry, see?

Well, I will have to look forward to this summer, because I will be working with my Dad and his amazing artistic skills, and I will be able to have intelligent conversations with my Mom again. Before I left, my Mom told me that I would be missing fresh eggs. I do, Mom. I do miss your chickens' eggs. I miss having eggs with every meal. Even though at the time I was annoyed with your writings and your various schemes, I would give anything to be able to hear what you are working on right now. Being away has really shown me how amazingly inteligent and wise you guys are.

I guess I'm at a junction in my life. I am starting to become more of a college student, a purely social individual. At the same time, I am feeling pain from being torn from my parents and my childhood.

What's my point? It's actually pretty simple.

I love my wonderful new friends. More importantly, I love my Mom and Dad.

You can check out some information about some of my friends (paticularly the ones in my hall) at Lord Ontario's web site. It's an irrelevant link. (on the left hand side of the screen)

My family and I went to see Robots last night. It was really a lousy movie, if you must know. I don't know why Newsweek would hail, "the funniest movie of the year," because it really wasn't that funny. Maybe it's just me, because I have a weird sense of humor. I never laugh at the show Family Guy, even when my friends around me are always cracking up. Even still, comedy does not make a movie, not by any means. I'm going to compare this movie to the Incredibles, which I don't agree with at all, but they started it (in their commercial), so they deserve it. I don't think that they are in the same league, so it's hard to compare them. Robots is not anywhere near the nuance or pure creativity of the Incredibles. The Incredibles is without at doubt the greatest animated movie of all time, in my opinion. It just barely edges out Monsters, Inc. I even consider it to be one of the greatest movies ever made, since it hardly feels like an animation. Robots, on the other hand, although their commercial would say otherwise, is not a decent movie at all. Why is that? What makes the Incredibles so much better than Robots? Absolutely everything.

I find myself lost. Just absolutely lost.

I can only try to regain control of my life.

Thanks to George Bush, I was able to get a new PDA battery, a compact flash wireless adapter, and the board game called Heroscape. Thanks, Georgey, for that nice tax rebate!

The other day, I was walking back from a class, and I noticed a sign on the sidewalk that said "everystudent.com." It was just an orange laser jet printing with white text, taped to the sidewalk with ordinary masking tape. I thought nothing of it. A lot of people tape signs to sidewalks on campus, and nobody pays much attention to them. Students just walk on them, and eventually those poor signs are ripped apart by the repeated stress of the students' unforgiving shoes. I occasionally see groundskeepers working frantically to scrape the tape off of the sidewalk, a futile gesture because more signs always come to replace their torn and trampled brothers. It's interesting that a major marketing scheme at Purdue relies on the knowledge that most students keep their heads down while they walk. The basic bowed head is commonplace, it seems. Anyway, that's a different matter. I saw this sign a couple days ago, and I wondered what "everystudent.com" actually is. I assumed that it was some sort of student organization, to give students something to do besides drink and make out with each other. In my head, I saw students spending every second of free time surfing this "everystudent.com" for some social fix that would keep them going another couple minutes. I immediately ignored the sign, like I do with most items of that nature. I have found that if I just ignore those types of people, they will ignore me. They will keep their heads down, and go on with their lives like they hadn't just seen a guy who actually has a different colored sock on each foot. It turns out that I wasn't completely wrong about "everystudent.com," but I did underestimate it by a grand margin.

Turns out, it's a cult.

I have been in the market for some nice general purpose. If anyone out there has some that they could give or sell me, please contact me and we can work something out. Any kind of purpose would do, really. Maybe you have some of your old childhood dreams that you don't mind parting with, I'll take those off your hands for you. Some nice purpose would really be great right now . . .

At Least I Still Have My Desire to Rant

I need a name for my up and coming website.

I am going to buy web space some day. All that means is that I will have a distinct web address, instead of this http://web.ics.purdue.edu crap. I plan on just moving this whole site over there, as soon as I can think of something to call it. I'll be able to really spruce up my site with PHP and SQL and a bunch of other goofy acronyms. I need a name, though. I don't want to just make it www.shauvonmcgill.com because that's boring. I want something intriguing and intelligent. I thought about using www.noteverystudent.com, because it is available, but that whole situation will die down in a couple months, and then my address won't make any sense at all. Nah, I need something really awexome. That's why I'm posting here. I am making a huge callout to everyone. The person who gives me the perfect idea WILL win a prize, so get thinking. If we put our heads together on this, we can come up with something totally cool.

It seems that my life might be changing. Turns out, it was there all along, and I was just blind to it. That's the way, I guess. I hate to be a jackass and talk about how great I am, but hey, we're all great. I am special. Everyone is special. I don't care how I feel tomorrow, because for this moment, I love life again. I know I will go down again, but I don't care. For this moment, my apathy is paying off.

Friends are really important. They really come in handy when you need someone to pull you out of quicksand. My eyes had just passed the waterline, and I felt the stick touch my outstreached fingers. I hadn't seen her standing there, so I didn't know she was trying to save me. I could feel the cold sand filling my nostrils. The black grip of unconciousness was slowly rolling over me.

I felt the stick touch my outstreached fingers, and I ran my hand along the fragile bark. The tree branch felt like a dream, like my mind was wishfully imagining the sensation of being saved. There was no bottom to the sand. I reached with my feet, trying to find a piece of hard ground to balance my weight on. With every movement, I just sank deeper and deeper into my watery grave, my desperate feet killing me in their attempt to save me.

I felt the stick touch my outstreached fingers, and I could feel the cold touch of the old wood. It was an old stick, one that had broken off of a tree long ago. The branch was discarded as dead weight, cast aside to allow the tree to grow. The branch was dead. It was still a sturdy branch, strong enough to pull someone out of a pit of quicksand. I was handed the broken end of the branch, and I could feel the severed joint where once stood the trunk of a great tree. The slightly rotted wood was somewhat soft to the touch, and bits of the fragile bark crumbled off at my grip.

I felt the stick touch my outstreached fingers, and in an instant I clenched my fist around the discarded branch of a tree. I felt it pull, but my body was too entrenched in the sand to be moved. A second pull, this time much more forcefully that the first, and I began to feel the pressure of being pulled against the force of gravity. She leaned back, and put her entire weight against the stick. I hadn't seen her standing there; I didn't know anyone was there to save me. I felt my head break the surface of the sand, and I could feel the cool spring air against my wet skin. My eyes came to the water line once again, and I opened them. The bright morning sun burst through the canopy of the forest. My eyes squinted under the rays of light being cast through the bare branches of the trees. I didn't think I would ever use my eyes again, so the renewed sensation was shocking at first. Once my eyes adjusted, I could see the canopy more clearly. I was able to notice that the branches weren't entirely bare. Tiny green buds were beginning to grow on the grey wood, and I could already see life beginning to course through the old growth once again.

I felt the stick touch my outstreached fingers. This branch was not alive. It had no green buds growing on its surface, and life was not coursing through it's dark, rotting wood. This dead thing, the most lifeless thing in the forest, was renewing my existence. Soon, as if green buds were growing on my skin, life would be once again coursing through my body. I would be able to live once again, and all because of this dead, rotting wood. I was saved by a dead branch, and, of course, the girl.

I hadn't seen her standing there, so I didn't know someone was there to save me. My eyes ran along the length of the stick to her soft hands, and then up to the most enchanting pair of eyes I have ever seen. This perfect angelic woman was standing there, straining with the stick in her soft hands, saving my life. This perfect angelic woman, with skin like the softest most pure silk, was giving me the chance to live again. This perfect angelic woman, with golden hair that fell on her cheeks in the most gentle caring manner, saved me at the last possible moment. My arm reached out, and I felt the hard surface of the forest floor. I pulled my body onto firm ground. She crouched over my body, the most amazing example of caring and compassion the universe has ever seen. She brushed the sand away from my face, and I realized that I was covered head to toe in millions of grains of moist sand. Touching my chin, she lifted my face to line up with hers. At this moment, I knew the extent of the universe. At this moment, I saw how vast our universe really is. I saw every nuance and detail just by gazing at the reflection of the forest in her pale blue eyes. We sat there for an eternety, staring at the extents of the universe. Her face was youthful, its slender curves forming together into the most beautifully gentle thing I have ever seen. I have seen her face before. I have seen her face in my dreams, when I dream of angels. I have seen her face in dreams, when I dream of heaven. I suddenly feared that I had died in the sand, and this woman was a lovely creature come to welcome me to my afterlife. "Are you ok?" Her voice echoed through my head. I told her I was, and then she kissed me gently on the cheek. Truly, I know what it is to be a flower in summer, with a soft beautiful butterfly resting peacefully on its petals. Truly, I know what it is to be a fresh ripe peach, with a drop of morning dew resting peacefully on its skin. Her kiss was like a butterfly, her lips were like drops of dew, resting peacefully on my cheek. Her embrace was the wind itself wrapping around me, protecting and loving me. She saved my life, and simultaneously allowed me to live a lifetime of happiness in a single moment.

I felt the stick touch my outstreached fingers. My life and breath, renewed.

I am somewhat scared by change. Monumental things, like moving away from my parents, whom I had never left for more than 3 days, and going to a completely foreign world. Those things scare me, sure. Those things scare everyone. More so, the small things scare me, too. Small things, like going from a state of warm comfort to a shivering wet mess. Those things scare me, too. Today Neal, Chris, and I went for a "fountain run" where we went to the fountain by Beering hall and ran through it. At first, Chris and I stood there looking at the gushing water, thinking that maybe it wasn't a good idea. Neal, soking wet from head to toe (except for the freak strip of dryness down his left leg) tried to push us into the spray. The sun glared down, but it somehow felt less warm, the breeze was cold, as if to say, don't do it. We watched the children run around the fountain, and I admired their ability to throw their cares to that nagging wind. You can't explain what it is like to run through the liberal arts fountain at Purdue University. It is an amazing sensation. Jets of water are bombarding you from every possible angle, and you are instantly soaking wet. Once I took that first step, the fears were gone, and I was concentrating more on not letting my bare feet slip on the slick wet stones. Once I left the fountain, at the other side, the Sun mocked me. Clouds covered her, and the wind blew harder. I was freezing, but it was one of the funnest things I did all weekend. My only regret was wearing my thin white pants, which immediately became see-through when they were soaking wet.

A little boy was having a wonderful time at the fountain today. He borrowed one of our little squirt guns and uselessly squirted our wet shirts. He called Neal "big boy." We all laughed and shivered in the Sun.

I need to realize that a lot of things are just like running through the liberal arts fountain at Purdue University. I may be somewhat scared about what state I am in afterwords, but once I take that first step I will just forget them all. A lot of things are just like that. I am thinking about those things tonight, like writing a huge research paper, approaching and talking to the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, kissing said gorgeous girl. I can't help but think about how much better I am as a person since I experienced the fountain run. I can't help but wonder how my life would be different if I had just talked to that girl. Life is full of little changes, little opportunities, and little jobs. Some of them leave you dripping and shivering. Some of them leave you with an awesome new knickname and a great post for your web log.

Siobhan, listen: This is a message from yourself. Never miss an opportunity again. Never again.

Ok, so I'm home for the weekend. It's only Wednesday. Yes, I'm skipping class (don't tell anyone). I'm here for Star Wars Celebration 3, the largest congregation of nerds EVER. Yes, I'm skipping class to spend 4 days with a bunch of really, really nerdy people. It is going to be absolutely awesome, though, so I'm excited. Keep checking the site, because I am going to be reporting on the convention on a daily basis. Each day over the next four days, I will post a run down of all the cool things I saw in the day. I can't wait!

May the Force be with you.

Update: Day 1

Click here

Update: Star Wars Celebration 3

Click here

Ok, I'm sorry for not posting anything in a while, I've had a lot of stuff to say but I've been either too lazy or too busy to post.

Click here to get the skinny on everything.

Argh.

I'm so freakin' mad at myself. I'm like the worst taoist ever. I don't relax (ever). I don't take things as they come (when it really counts). I don't live life in the moment (absolutely never happens). I don't love life. I don't breath in every breath with joy. I don't live like a blade of grass in the wind. I spent all freakin' weekend working on my new website (honestly 8 AM to 11 PM four days in a row), instead of out there enjoying the beautiful day like I should have been. I hate this. I'm living everything but now. I wish I could go back and change everything, and I am making up rediculous fantasies for the future.

It turns out I din't really change. I never do, really. I say I do, and I act all high and mighty for a couple days, but then I'm right back to the stupid, selfish, obnoxious, unhygienic nerd that is Shauvon McGill (spelled correctly). I am not, nor will I ever be truly happy. I will never run out of things to want. I read that ATI is coming out with a product to compete with nVidia's SLI technology. I'm going to have to get me one of those babies.

The fact of the matter is that I'm not attractive, I'm not healthy, and I'm not very fun when you get right down to it. That's the truth, told by the only person who really knows me more than anyone else. Oh, no, you're just being hard on yourself! I hear everyone saying. It's not true. as much as people can tell me how great I am, I still know the truth, and that is what I have to live with. I hate that people are starting to tell me that I'm a good person, because this whole facad that I put up is all a lie. I feel like it is, anyway. I don't do anything by nature. I'm never just "myself." blah blah blah blah . . . nobody's really paying any attention anyway, and my wrists are tired.

Screwed up Carpal Tunnels at age 19.

Scott came by today. He told me far more than I wanted to know about episode 3. I wanted to ignore it and just take the movie for what it is, but I can tell that it will be a dissappointment. Even for me, it's going to be a dissappointment.

Whenever I get an opinion for myself, it always ends up being wrong.

I had my second day in the office today. I work for my Dad, if anyone cares. I just do odd jobs for him. He's an architect, a partner at a small firm in Noblesville. They pride themselves on being the best firm in Noblesville (there are a suprising ammount of architects in the rather small city). I don't know what they did without me, because I've been here two days and I've already fixed a whole bunch of problems. I never feel like I work hard enough there. I'm always slacking off, just trying to make that clock hit 5 any way I can. My dad always tells me that I'm the best thing since the 't' square (not his words). He always tells me how helpful I've been and everything. I can't help but think that it's just a dad throwing endless praise at his only son, trying to make him pull himself out of the hole he's dug for himself.

My mom's incubating chicken eggs again. They started hatching today. A baby chicken is one of the smallest, most helpless creatures in the entire world. I can't help but relate to and envy them.

I got my grades. Three C's and two B's. My GPA actually went down from a 2.6. It's now 2.4, and although I tell everyone that I don't care as long as I pass, it's all lies. I hate myself for doing this. I hate myself for sleeping in instead of going to class. I hate myself for not paying attention to important details. I hate myself for not doing really easy things that would have raised my grade considerably. I feel so terrible every single time I even think negative things toward Scott. I'm "doin' fine" with my lousy 2.4, and Scott's annoyed that his grade dropped to a 3.9. My "competition" Cameron Marston got close to a 4.0, too (that's four - oh as well, not 402). I hate how much of a terrible student I am.

I scared the crap out of Scott's mom the other day when I went to visit in my Vader costume. That makes me smile. That's also kinda' depressing. That's what I've become? I go around visiting my friends in a $700 costume from a science fiction movie.

I will never fine the love that I'm so desperately searching for. I always try to pick the damn apples before they're ripe. I don't know if that's the right analogy, but I'm tired and I'm sick of my pretentious "style" of writing, which is just coming up with the first cheesy metaphore that pops into my head.

I ate lunch at my spot today. It's a place down on the white river just down the road and through a private property from the office I work at. It's so peaceful there, so relaxing, but all I could think about was how much I wished that somebody, anybody, was there with me. All I did was just make up conversations I would have with them if they were there. That's all I ever do. Just next to my spot is this beautiful grass field, with light glinting off of the grass like something so much more valuable than gold. I wanted to just run off into that field, past the "no tresspassing" sign, past the fence, past the line of trees on the far side. I wanted to feel the grass under my feet, feel the world leave me as I left it behind.

I might just run off into that field tomorrow. I might just run off and never come back.

Jesus Christ, that's depressing.

I'm going to get some sleep and try to make sense of all this. Don't worry, I'm not running away (I think).

Ok, so I'm sorry about all that. I was just in a really bad mood. I barfed consiousness all over the place, didn't I?

Well, it occurs to me that perhaps I'm not all that bad. We are our own worst critic, aren't we? Here's what I'm going to do:

For the next bunch of posts, I will do what I call my shameless self-promotion series. I will name one totally awesome thing about me, just to prove that I'm not a complete loser like I was led to believe. The point is that you all come here to read about me (you all, like there's more than one), so I'm going to write about me. If you wanted to know about movies or other junk you would go elsewhere. The Shauvon McGill website is the place to go for information about Shauvon McGill, so you'll get the best there is to get.

But now, I have to get as much sleep as possible so that I can stay up all night tomorrow. (smiley)

Why? OH, GIVE ME A BREAK!

. . . . . . wow. . . . . .

I just blinked for the first time since midnight last night. Holy crap, I don't know where to begin.

It was absolutely wonderful. Just wonderful. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a douche bag and a moron. I would love to write a full review or whatever, but that's just annoying. I'll sum up my major points in a second.

I stood in line for 5 hours with a Darth Vader costume on. Just to show the level of energy in the huge line of nerds, when I stepped out of the car, and started walking towards the croud, they slowly started clapping and cheering at me. Everyone wanted their picture taken with me choking them. A couple girls wanted a hug from Darth Vader (weird, but whatever). It was just so cool to feel so welcome. I had such power. I could walk up to any of these die hard fans and hold my hand up, and they would immediately fall to the ground like I was force-choking them. It was awexome fun.

Ok, so here are my points about the movie:

• The mood of the film was so incredible. Just to prove how amazing it was, the theatre was FULL of roudy nerds who were full of caffein and excitement, but as soon as the movie started, the house was absolutely silent the ENTIRE time. It was that powerful
• The special effects were phenomenal. I don't think that anyone has "sold out" in any of the prequels by using cutting edge special effects. I don't understand why anyone would say that. The fact of the matter is that if this movie doesn't win an oscar for special effects, I lose what little faith I have left in Hollywood.
• The acting was the best ever. This is the first Star Wars movie that didn't have any flaws in the major roles at all. Ewan McGreggor is so superbly perfect as Obi Wan, Natalie Portman is fantastic, and Hayden Christensen was even better than last time (YES I THINK HE IS A GOOD ACTOR DAMMIT). The most amazing role, however, was Palpatine, played by Ian McDiarmid. Every nuance of Palpatine's character was flawless. If McDiarmid doesn't win an oscar for his performance, I'll lose what little faith I have left in Hollywood.
• Editing, Writing, Camera work, Story, all fabulous; if this movie doesn't get oscars for everyting possible, I will lose what little faith I have left in Hollywood.
• My only complaint. My ONLY complaint was the music. It felt like just a remix of all the other soundtracks. It didn't match the mood of the movie very well at all, and I realize now that the music was not very good in any of the prequels. I blame all complaints and dissappointments in the prequels on the lousy music. This movie does not deserve an oscar for the music.

Seriously. Return of the King won every oscar imaginable, so it's Star Wars's turn. Lucas has been cheated every single time by that stupid academy, and he damn well deserves some serious credit in my opinion. Whatever.

Point: See the movie, love the movie.

Additional: If you haven't seen any Star Wars movies, DO NOT WATCH EPISODE 3 UNTIL YOU WATCH THE OTHERS. At least the prequels. It's so dark and depressing, it's not a good way to start the series, but it's the perfect way to . . . um . . . be in the middle of it. E3 was the first of the films rated PG-13 for massive violence and strong themes and whatnot.

By the way, not a happy birthday.

Ok, so about my shameless self promotion thing . . .

Hmmm, I'm tired and a little bummed out about life, but I'll be sure to think of something tomorrow. For now, though, let me tell everyone what I want. Consider it a late birthday present (not that anyone could actually make it happen).

The phone rings. I expect it to be for anyone but me. The soft voice in the phone is full of a quiet youthfulness. Very childlike, yet mysteriously mature, her voice is a window into the mysteries of her personality. Somehow naive and wise at the same time, she has always been an enigma to me. My raised eyebrows express my surprise that her particular voice is coming out of the phone. I have never had many girls call me, almost completely never for just a friendly social call. She has never called me before, and sometimes I feel like I am not wanted when I call her, so this turn of events is only adding to her riddle. I have a hard time masking my excitement, but it is necessary not to seem too eager to hear from her. What she says next is even more surprising. "Shauvon," she says, "it's a beautiful day, do you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure," as if there is any other possible answer. Not a single event could prevent me from saying yes to her. Part of her allure is that deep inside her is a person of calm maturity, but on the outside, that person is wrapped up in layers of fragile innocence. Every time she speaks I feel the need to unravel her personality and find out just which of those traits, if either, is really her.

I love talking to her. I feel like we could just talk for hours and hours. The thought that she might feel the same way gives me renewed excitement. However, I have to control myself. I have to stay cool so that I don’t mess anything up.

She arrives at my house, and she is just as beautiful as I have ever imagined a goddess to be. Mysterious and powerful and strong, her mood expresses all of these. She always has a look of innocence, though. Millions of thoughts race through my mind as she walks toward me. She just stands there smiling -- up at me, of course -- waiting for me to make my move. When I hug her she just seems to fit in my arms. A certain hollow part of me is completed when I have my arms around her. She always hugs me very firmly, like she is afraid to lose me again. What with college and everything, until a few weeks ago we hadn’t seen each other in a long time. I think we both felt a loss, if only subconsciously.

We walk in each other’s arms. She rests her head against my shoulder. She caresses my arm with her fingers. I always feel safe in her arms, safe from doubt. I always feel like she knows what she is doing. I could fall in love with her fingers, lightly running along my arm.

She just wants to be friends and have fun. She doesn’t want to take this anywhere, yet she caresses my arm with such care. She looks up at me with those innocent pleading eyes, waiting for me to kiss her.

We end up just lying in a grass field, pondering the future. I know I need to tell her how exactly I feel about her. I have said that all I want is to be friends, yet I know that isn’t true. I feel myself falling in love with her mystery and innocent charm. I am falling in love with her cute voice, and her gorgeous body. I should tell her, yet the words never form in my head. When I start to think that I will lose my chance, she says it for me.

She looks into my eyes, into my soul, with those huge eyes. She removes her innocent self for just a moment to expose her much more mature and wise self, and she tells me the very words that I was worried about telling her.

"I might be falling in love with you," is all she says. It is all she needs to say.

My raised eyebrows express my surprise to hear her say that. I am no longer frozen by the fear of ruining things. I see things clearer than I ever have.

We spend the afternoon in each other’s arms, in a field of grass, under the watchful gaze of the sun, in the arm of a unfathomable galaxy, hurtling through space in an infinite universe.

Love- a finite reaction to an infinite universe

Love- an infinite passion for a finite being

Love- an enigma

I found out last night that one of the two guys I was planning on living with next year bailed on us. Chris just left a little message for me on AIM and basically said, "just so you know, I'm living with Cameron and Kathryn next year." Gee, thanks a lot.

This really bums me out on many levels, and I'm losing my hope that this year will be pleasant at all. Cameron and his Hate All Things Everywhere^tm club is, as you might guess, very negative toward everything. To him, verything is just a bother, set to impede him every step of the way. Boy, I wouldn't want live my life with so much hate for everything . . .

Anyway, HATE (as they will hence-forth be known) has brainwashed Chris into following them blindly into the world of unending complaints, so now he has some crazy idea that he hates dorm life. I'll admit that it has its down sides. The food wasn't perfect, there were a lot of drunk people doing very stupid things at 2 in the morning, there was a lot of noise, we did have to put up with all of the stupid rules, etc., etc. There are good things, though, too, and HATE doesn't seem to recognize the other side of any argument. The president of HATE, Mr. HATE if you will, will probably send me a scathing email about how wrong I am and how much his hatred for all things is, in fact, somehow healthy.

Alow me to drop the charade (pronounce that 'sha-raad,' like a pretentious prick would). What place do I have to complain about Cameron complaining, when I am guilty of the very thing that I am tearing him down for (rephrase that into something that makes more sense, unlike what a pretentious prick would do). Maybe HATE isn't such a bad thing.

But it does really bum me out, because I really thought that this would be a great year, with everyone hanging out in our room, and Kevin out of our lives. Since Chris is bailing, though, that dream is shattered. Chris just decides that he doesn't want to live with us anymore, and he says, "Hooray for no more Dorm Life," and I have to sit here and wonder if perhaps I should go on with the plan. Here is what Chris is basically saying to Barry and me: "Well, I don't want to live there because dorm life sucks, and I don't want to live with you guys, but I wish the best of luck to you two, and I hope you can stand it enough to make it through the year." I know his intentions are much better, but some of the worst things ever were done with good intentions. What if I now decided that I didn't want to live in the room, either? What would Barry do, then?

Nothing is as bad as it seems. Nothing ever is. However, this is pretty bad, so it has a lot of leeway. I'm no longer excited about going back to school. I am not going to work as much as I originally planned, because this will probably be the last summer I get, and things could go downhill fast come August. I'm going to take some time off and spend it with friends who don't just go back on promises.

Well, I have a long day of work ahead of me, so I need to get to that. This sucks.

Addendum:

OK, FINE, I OVER REACTED A LITTLE. OK. FINE. I'LL ADMIT IT.

It might just turn out ok, after all

I'm sure you all want to hear about my job. In a couple days, you'll wish I had never thought that you asked. You can find out all about it here.

Or right here.

Every time I go to work at this office, I feel more and more like I shouldn't be here. I have no idea what I'm doing at all. I am getting more and more complicated tasks, and since I have no architectural training whatsoever, I feel I cannot complete the tasks. Right now I'm supposed to be doing something with Architectural Desktop for my Boss/Dad, but I honestly have no idea what he wants from me. Compound this with this woman here who thinks she is be boss of everything, and it's not an environment I should stay in. I need to find a new job, and I need to find it fast.

I'm going to look around for something this weekend. I need a nice job in retail, where I'm going to be actually doing things instead of just sitting in front of a computer screen all day. What would be perfect would be a nice job in technical support. I could really get stuff done if I worked in tech support. I need to go talk to my Boss/Dad and tell him that I don't know what I'm doing.

I'm starting to get a little worried about something. I have noticed that most of the time, I am extremely tired. Every day, since I get up at some ungodly hour (well, for a 19 year old college student, anyway) and go to work all day, and I come home just completely exhausted. Then on the weekends, I still feel tired. I am worrying because if this is how the rest of my life is going to be, it won't be very pleasant for me or the people around me. A nasty thunderstorm moved through Indiana, and a tornado could have easily come through our area. Part of me actually wanted a tornado to hit the house, just because it would force me to change my life in ways that I don't think I will be able to on my own. I really think that I need a drastic restructuring, and I'm certainly not going to just go out and do it. Anyway, a tornado didn't come through, and the house is fine. I still have this disturbing voice that wants something interesting to happen no matter what the cost.

A couple guys came over last night and we played various video games. Through the course of the night, we drank almost an entire case of Bawls high caffeine drink. I didn't get to bed till almost 5, and if that happens my brain refuses to grasp the concept of sleep. I got two hours of sleep, and I woke up sick to my stomache with these extremely analytical thoughts racing through my head at a billion miles a second. For some reason, when my sleep schedule gets messed up, my brain goes into extreme programming mode, and I have pseudo dreams in which I need to create some sub function that will make myself sleep for another hour. It's extremely bizzare, and it happens far more often than I think is normal (frankly once is too many). I finally realize that I don't need to execute sleepforhour();, but then I usually have one or two bars of a song stuck on an infinite loop in my head, and nothing I can do will stop it. This morning I just went down stairs and watched "Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends" for a while, humming a couple bars to one of the Black Eyed Peas' new songs. I also felt like crap all day.

Tomorrow is going to be really hard. More on that tomorrow. If only I could see a paticular person tomorrow night, it would make everything worth it. Unfortunately, that person doesn't want anything to do with me. It seems like nobody ever does.

Well, it was very hard to get up this morning. I anticipated that. However, I'm not in a terribly bad mood. I talked to my friend Missy Smith last night. Every time I'm unhappy and I talk to her, she cheers me up. I don't know how she does it, but I am eternally grateful.

I had a wonderful dream last night. It was one of those dreams that was so vivid and happy that when I realized that it was a dream, it was a huge let down. Here's a synopsis:

It started with me moving back to school. I had this really sweet room up on the third floor. The room was nothing like the actual Meredith rooms, but it still seemed realy familiar. I think that my brain recycles sets from old dreams, because I'm pretty sure that the dorm room area was in a previous dream. The room was back in the corner, and it had a window that overlooked a huge forest. This is a little strange, because there isn't a forest anywhere near the dorms at Purdue. I don't really remember too much else about this part, except that I kept thinking how awesome the year was going to be.

Then things got interesting. The second part of my dream took place at my parent's house. I'm not sure if I was living there, or if I was visiting, but Natalie Portman was definitely visiting, and she was definitely in love with me. Scott was there, too, and he was playing computer games on my dad's computer in my room. I was showing Natalie around the house (I think she was staying for a while. How awesome is that??!!). We went up to my room, and I calmly asked Scott to go somewhere else for a while. He left, and Natalie and I had the room to ourselves. The strange thing is that my dream didn't lead to where you might think a dream about Natalie Portman would lead. She just layed down on my bed, and I showed her my Star Wars toys (looking back on that, I realize the irony and akwardness of showing all of my Star Wars toys to Natalie Portman). She just layed there, and smiled at me.

In the dream it was understood that she was Natalie Portman, but she was also a bit of a conglomeration of several girls that I have partially been involved with in my life. I think my brain was just drawing from what little knowlege I had about love, and it tried to create what would be the perfect girl for me (mission accomplished). It was understood that we would eventually be doing that which my dreams often lead to (I'm a 19 year old guy, after all), but there was no hurry. We just stayed there in love with each other. Finally my mom knocked on the door (in my dream) and told me that I have to go help her feed the animals. This is also strange, because I haven't helped her with the animals in more than a year. I looked at Natalie, who smiled at me, and I asked if she wanted to see the animals. She agreed, and went down stairs. Then for some reason, I put on some really goofy clothes (the sad thing is that they were all clothes that I actually own) and went down to help my mom.

Natalie was sitting on the couch, and I walked down as goofy as I could (this is also very normal for me). I was obviously showing off for her, and she just laughed and laughed. My mom was telling me something about the animals (she is always telling me something about the animals, it seems) but I don't remember what it was. All I remember is the feeling of being loved. It showed me just how much I need that in my life right now. It was so beautiful and so wonderful. When I woke up (my brain automatically wakes up at 6:40 now) and I looked around, my room and bed was empty. I would have given anything to be able to go back. I wanted to go back to the dream, back to the love and the perfect girl. I wanted to go back to thinking that this year will be awesome. I wanted to go back to just being my goofy self, and finally being appreciated for it. I couldn't, though. I had to go into the world where nobody appreciates me. I had to go into the world where every girl I am ever partially involved with doesn't want anything to do with me, where there is no perfect girl and there is no love. I had to go into the world where no one smiles at me, and no one cares. I had to go into the world where Natalie Portman doesn't even know I exist. I had to wake up.

Anyway, if anyone thinks they can shed some light on just what the hell any of that meant, I would love to hear from you. Or if, by any chance, you know Natalie Portman, put in a good word for me. Apparently my subconcious has a bit of a crush on her.

So it has been 3 very Natalie Portman-less days since my last post. Perhaps you guys didn't really understand me when I asked for you to put in a good word . . .

Ok, I'm really just joking, I guess. I understand that I probably won't ever meet her. I have a court order here that says that I won't meet Keira Knightley, either (I'm kidding here, too). I'm going to confess. I have 172 high-resolution pictures of Keira Knightley's various magazine photoshoots on my computer desktop. In addition to that, I am in the process of adding about 100 more images of Natalie Portman. There, now the world knows. I have two monitors on my computer, see, so Natalie Portman appears on one, and Keira Knightley appears on the other. All the images are at 1280x1024 pixels, and I developed a nice little javascript that randomly changes them every 2 minutes. I am not ashamed of this little image gallery I have collected. I know some people (well, I knew some people) who had hundreds of naked women that cycled on their desktop, and they didn't even know those women's names, so it could be worse. All of my images are tasteful, and I learned a lot about how Windows works, javascript, and Adobe Photoshop while I was making them.

To me, it's more than just looking at pretty women. Sure, a big part of it IS just looking at pretty women. The really important thing, though, is what they represent. To me, those two women represent the most perfect example of what the human race is capable of. Sometimes I lose faith in our species (that's suprising, isn't it?), but it gives me faith in the future when I see that such perfect beauty exists. The universe is a very confusing place, and it is very hard to understand just what our purpose is. That is why I have pictures of them on my desktop. When I see those pictures, I have purpose. I see our place in the universe. I feel like we aren't here to create or conquer or forge our way, like most people think. It seems to me like we exist to experience the culmination of some higher power. I think that it is quite possible that something worked for millenia to create this place we live in, and we were simply created just to experience it. We are art patrons, browsing the most complex art museum ever created: ourselves. We train our telescopes on stellar constellations and beauties throughout the universe, and we write and draw and sculpt and express our interpretations of what we see. We surround ourselves with beauty. It's in our gardens, our films, our music, our clothes, our homes, our offices, our vehicles, our cities, our restaurants, our yards, our pets, our imaginations, and ourselves. Sure, this theory might be a little hard to believe, but isn't it somewhat nicer than most of the other theories out there?

Natalie Portman and Keira Knightley are two of the most beautiful human beings who have ever lived, but they aren't alone. They are only an example of the perfection that exists in this world. People like them are everywhere; beauty as breathtaking as theirs is everywhere. This art museum that we live in is filled to the absolute brim with further examples of what the universe is capable of.

Take a look around you. Look at how much beauty is around you right now. Wherever you are, it doesn't matter, there is something. Even the monitor that you are looking at right now is a beautiful example of human perseverance and raw creativity. Look around you every single moment you are alive and ask youself: What is truly important in this world? Look at the beauty that is all around you and ask youself that question. If everyone would just take the time to do that, would the world be a better place? If everyone would just take the time to stand back and admire this work of art, how would things be different? It is very easy to forget. I forget all the time (just look at most of my last 10 posts). That is why I think about Keira and Natalie all the time. It's not because I'm obsessed, it's not because I'm a stalker, and it's not because I'm in love with them. I have those pictures of them because I am human, I am alive, and they make my life have purpose. My life is worth living simply because I am able to appreciate the absolute beauty in people like Keira Knightley and Natalie Portman. They make my life worth living.

So if either of those women ever read this, even if it is in 30 years and everything else is forgotten, I want to thank them. Thank you Natalie, thank you Keira. Thank you for existing. Thank you for contributing to this cosmic art show. Even if you don't know who I am, you don't understand, this creeps you out, or you just don't care, thank you anyway. I speak not for myself, but for the entire universe when I say that. This is a much better place to live thanks to you.

I still would like to meet them some day, just to see what they're like. I want to meet them just to see if they are really as beautiful as they appear. A beautiful face is one thing, but it pales in comparison to the beauty and nuance of the human soul. That's one thing that a computer desktop can't randomly cycle every two minutes. It's also why a lot of people I know are every bit as beautiful as they are.

Here are a couple quick updates.

Click here

And then I talk to Melissa Smith, and everything is wonderful again. She didn't even do anything, but she listened. It's so great to have someone who will listen sometimes.

By the way, I have aquired an artist's rendition of what it would look like if Missy's head were to explode. (The artist was none other than Missy herself).

Click here for the picture.

I am having a horrible allergic reaction to the place where I work. The building is pretty much under construction at all times, and the air is full of various types of dust and God knows what else. My eyes hurt, I can't breathe, and I sneeze a lot. The inside of my nose is raw, so it hurts to breathe. My ears are messed up, so I can't hear very well. In an unrelated incident, I burned the roof of my mouth, so it hurts to eat. Let's recap. I hurts to see, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to eat, I can't hear very well, and I sneeze a lot. My mom got me an appointment with an allergy doctor, so perhaps I can find a way to fix this mess. Or maybe the doctor will tell me that if I work here any more I will die, and I won't have to come in anymore.

I don't understand this world at all. It makes no sense to me, and it never has. I don't understand society, and I especially don't understand American society. I think I need all sorts of professional help, in addition to this allergy thing.

It might just be me, but I think the new intern is giving me the eye . . . Yeah, like I need THAT right now.

I watched Mr. Rodgers this morning. It made me cry. I want to go back to the time when I watched that show every day. I wish catching that show was the most I had to worry about. He sang a song about showing love for people. He said that loving people as much as you can is the most important thing a human can do. Why won't anyone let me? Why can't I do the one thing I would give anything in the world to do?

Here's something I don't get.

There is a roll of paper towels in the bathroom where I work. Presumably, it is for drying your hands. The strange thing about this roll of paper towels is that they are printed with nice little images of various herbs and spices. Yes, the paper towels have cute images of Sage, Cinnamon, and Thyme. When someone is wiping up a spill, or drying off their hands, do they often want to study up on their various herbs and spices? I know that I sometimes wonder what a cinnamon plant looks like, but I've never really been interested enough to want it printed on my paper towels. Sometimes I forget what rosemary looks like, but I have never needed to remember when I was drying my hands in the bathroom. I guess I can't really know what's going through the average homemaker's mind. It is possible that somewhere a soccer mom is a better cook because she was able to study the differences between a stalk of rosemary and a cinnamon plant while she was wiping the spilled baby formula off of the counter top. It might be possible that somewhere in this societal black hole of a country there is a person who's life was saved when someone threatened to kill them if they didn't properly identify a specific herb. Oh, thank you, Brawny. You've saved my life with your insigtful demonstration of popular herbs and spices. Is there a situation where paper towels like these would compliment someone's wonderful decorating in their kitchen? I hope and pray that I will never meet that person. When, in the history of the universe, would it be necessary to compliment your kitchen drapes with your PAPER TOWELS? Surely plain white would suffice. I'm sure you could get various colors of paper towels, if you absolutely must match your doilies. But why, after all we've been through, after countless wars and other threats to our existance, why would it be necessary to print the names and likenesses of several of our favorate eating spices onto the devices we use to clean up dog crap? Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, you can do to paper towels will eliminate the fact that they are used to clean up dog crap, and I promise you that little blue pictures of parsley will not make cleaning spilled wine out of your brand new $10,000 couch any more pleasant.

I could see why someone would want to print things onto paper towels. Look at all the prime advertising space avaliable there. Paper towel companies could make a fortune selling space to AOL and Pepsi. I can't believe nobody has thought of this before. Everyone buys paper towels. It's a necessity, just like soap, milk, bread, and oreos. There are entire aisles devoted to them in the grocery stores. How can Pepsi start to make advertisements in video games, yet never once think to print their logo onto paper towels? Don't misread me, here. I would absolutely hate it if they started doing that, but I would give up paper towels if they stop trying to ruin my favorite movie characters with their horrible commercials. It's a trade off. It doesn't have to be Pepsi, either. Imagine wiping the grime off of your stove top. It's difficult, it's baked on, and it's leaving streaks. Now look at your paper towel you have there. "Is cleaing that stove top tough? Try new Grindex stove cleaner and mass insecticide. It'll take the 'rub' out of 'scrub' !" I'm not saying it would be a good thing; I'm just saying that I'm suprised nobody has thought of it before. We now have advertisements on our advertisements. Why did someone think to put pictures of herbs and spices on paper towels before they thought to put advertisements on them? That's all I'm asking.

While we are putting study sheets onto paper towels, however, I have several ideas there. I have, from time to time, needed to know how many teaspoons go into a tablespoon. I often find myself asking how many tablespoons of butter are in a pound. I occasionally need to know how to clean various substances out of a pair of pants. Wouldn't the world be so much better if they printed those sort of things onto paper towels? Wouldn't it be nice to look down and see, "Animal wastes can be disposed of in a bush or used to fertilize a garden." You can't tell me that it would be any more expensive than printing pictures of herbs and spices. Bounty paper towel company could sell several different series of paper towels. The college student^tm line of paper towels could have tips for cooking ramen noodles, or the way to clean beer vomit out of a carpet printed in goofy colorful text. The classroom^tm series could have multiplication tables on them, or the alphabet in cursive. When we had cursive tests in 3rd grade, I could have asked to blow my nose, grab a piece of paper towel, and get the answers to the test! They could make a series of paper towels for the military that have common iraqi phrases on them, or Bounty could have a line of paper towels with pictures showing the soldiers which vehicles not to shoot at. Maybe that's the problem with all the friendly fire over there. Those guys go to the bathroom, they wash their hands, and then they forget which of the airplanes are friendly airplanes! I can see a G.I. coming out of a latrine thinking hmmm, so that's what a cinnamon plant looks like -- OH SHIT, that tank is attacking!. These are but a fraction of the possibilities here.

It's time the paper towel industry stepped up to the plate and delivered the American people a paper towel to be proud of. It's time for a paper towel that will lead the way into the 21 century!

I got an email the other day from my cousin. It was pretty much just 3 pictures.

So if I don't make any posts for a while, it's probably because I'm exploded or something.

I went to this bonfire last night with My Friend Ben. It was such a painfully clichéd 'teen-age' gathering, and it was very unnatural for me. It was interesting, because I saw a friend of mine that I haven't seen for a while. A guy who has always offered an inteligent conversation, and who is probably reading this. It was nice to see him again.

We sat around a bonfire, My Friend Ben and I, with a bunch of clichéd 'teen-age' people. The girl who was hosting the thing had her car parked nearby. The door was open, and the speakers were inadequately trying to fill the air with her custom mix CD's that she must have waited weeks to show off to her friends. She sat there waiting for someone to mention the name of the current band or the delightful choice of one song or another. Most of the people there were strangers to me, even the few who supposedly graduated with me. My Friend Ben showed off his amazing ability to connect any two actors in 6 steps or less. I had to think for a while, but I gave him Danny Jon-Jules (one of the vampires from Blade 2) and Zach Braff. He connected them in 5 steps. Bastard. I got revenge, though. I then said, "Jessica Alba and . . . Ronald Reagan!" I win.

There were other people there. A girl who needed to put more clothes on spent most of the time talking to someone else on her cell phone. She would occasionally say something sexual just to get everyone's attention. When she got off the phone, she sprayed some lighter fluid on the fire. I told her to get closer to the fire. She told me I was an idiot. I told her (well, in my mind a little while later) to put some pants on. There were other kids trying desperately to be punk or to be different, but they all just look and act like every other high school student. You could cut the angst with a knife.

A house sat just down the road. A house where a girl used to live. A girl I am still in love with.

I guess we're having a bit of a party tonight for this holiday thing that celebrates a paticular universal mistake. I went with my parents to Wal Mart to get supplies. They bought "Dr. Thunder." I want to stress that Wal-Mart brand drinks are not equivelant to their non-evil counterparts.

Reagan was in The Killers with Angie Dickinson, who was in Pay it Forward with Haley Joel Osment. Osment was in The Sixth Sense with Bruce Willis, who was in Sin City with Jessica Alba. Four step, biatch.

I am alive, and not exploded. FYI

If anybody has any bad news to tell me, go ahead and let it out. Don't be afraid to make me feel bad or anything, because it would be like pouring gasoline on an out of control forest fire. My life is spiraling downwards, and considering where it started the summer, that is extremely suprising. Everything seems to be going wrong, and then you realize that what only seems to be going wrong is in fact going wrong. Right when I feel like I might have one problem under control, something comes up and punches me right in the ribs (literally). Several thoughts spring to mind, which are quickly ambushed and gobbled up by the negativity that set up permanent residence.

I'm going back to school soon, so all this crappy summer will be over soon, I often tell myself. The problem with that is omni-fold. A.) I am so completely not ready to go back to school, from the myriad of hygenic supplies I need to remember to bring and then buy to the various computer parts I stupidly bought that need to be built into some sort of computer that I can take, to the absolute mess my body is in, to the fact that I've been working all summer and I don't even have $1000 to cover the entire year at school, to the paperwork and other crap that I have to figure out.

2.) I don't even know where (or whith whom) I will be living this semester. Thank you, Chris Fancher. I recently found out that Meredith Hall might be moving us to a smaller room so that we don't have to deal with a random third roomate. Right now I don't know which of those options would be worse, but I'm sure that they will decide for us. I have no doubts that I will be finding out which option is worse this year.

C.) I am not looking forward to my classes this semester, nor do I like my schedule. Sticking blunt objects underneath my fingernails immediately comes to mind when I think of other, less painful, activities that I could be doing come August.

IV.) I am completely broke. Well, I will probably have about a thousand dollars by the time I'm off to school. That's after I decided not to get most of the things I wanted to get this summer. Last year I had about $2500 and I went a couple hundred into debt by the end of the year. I'm so screwed.

5.) The one thing, the one thing that I really wanted to finish above all else this summer was finish my new website. After working on it all summer, I am not done and only in fact about half way done with it. Again, I'm screwed.

It could be worse, I think. Yeah, that's the sad part. The one universal truth that we can all count on is that life will always find new ways to make things worse. When I wake up in the mornings feeling like absolute crap, I am always excited to find out what things will go wrong today.

At least I have no friends around mucking things up by distracting me from worrying about all this. Sigh.

I am a very negative person. That's just who I am. It is my nature to immediately come up with bad thoughts any time I think about anything. I will just have to live with that. It isn't necessarily a bad thing. I can't fight it anymore.

There is a train station in Boston.

Inside this station, people move about endlessly leading their errands and jobs.

The walls of this station are covered with graffiti, much like any train station in the world.

On one of the walls of this paticular station, someone wrote something in paint.

Someone wrote a very thought provoking series of words.

Centuries ago, a german man named Nietzsche made many philosophies on Christianity and life.

This small station in Boston has one of his philosophies on its wall.

On the wall of this small station in Boston, someone has written this:

"God is dead. -Nietzsche"

Underneath, in a completely different medium and completely different hand, is written the following retort:

Nietzsche is dead. -God

Who is more right? What are we doing here? Why do we care so much? There are no answers, only endless errands and jobs. Someday I would like to see this monument to the human condition. I believe at least one answer lies right there with the paint and grime of the station.

The guys came over last night to play the Star Wars Roleplaying Game. Yes, we play every Sunday evening, and yes I think it's cool. My character is a cerean Jedi Consular named Sho-Vin. I am level 3 and I kick some serious battle droid ass.

Anyway, this paticular Sunday we didn't get around to playing the RPG. Instead, Scott played God of War on the playstation that he brought, and the rest of us watched in bored silence. I remembered the times in high school when we would write stories by taking paper and passing it around between us. The rule is that you have to write only one line of text, and you have to be semi coherant. I started writing a story with Ben, and it was getting pretty good when Adam and Scott both joined in. We ended up with four sepparate stories all going at once. It was a literary orgie. A couple of the stories were somewhat reasonable, and some of them were borderline pornography.

Everyone went their sepparate ways, and they took their notebooks with them. However, I have one of the four stories here with me, and I will document it here for all to see. It's not finished yet (I doubt it will ever be) so there will perhaps be more chapters to come later on.

Click here to see my story

There are three other stories out there somewhere that will hopefully end up on this terrible excuse for a blog, too. (If Scott, Ben, or Adam read this, maybe you can type up the stories and email them to me? That would make things easier)

I now have to shop for shoes like I shop for pants. I look around until I find the only ones with the freakish size that fits me, and then I have to buy those.

Johnsongrass.

Somehow, I relate to this weed. It was brought over a long time ago from Africa by a greedy slave owner who thought it could be used to feed cattle. Johnsongrass grows very tall very fast, so originally, it looked like a very capable plant to feed livestock. Irony makes this world go round, it seems. Johnsongrass is poisonous, especially to cattle. By the time this was discovered, it was too late. Now johnsongrass is a weed, outlawed in the United States. It spread from the original colonies it was introduced to all the way across the continent. Landowners face severe fines if they are caught with johnsongrass on their property. The weed spread, and now it has adapted to look just like a modern run of the mill genetically engineered corn plant. It can be found in cornfields when the corn is at its highest level of growth. Johnsongrass grows taller than the corn, so you'll see it's wild tassles sticking up above the canopy granted by the fields of corn. In only a couple hundred years, johnson grass has evolved to look exactly like corn to make us less likely to destroy it. Officers spend countless hours flying over fields searching for johnson grass to stop its growth.

I really relate to johnson grass. It stands tall above the other plants around it, trying to keep hold of the originality that it deserves. However, the weed's entire survival depends on being able to fit in with those around it. It desperately tries to blend in with its peers, but it can't eccape the fact that it is different. Poisonous and useless, it grows wherever it can, using its mild similarity to other plants as the only way it stays alive. It doesn't belong here. It was meant for a different world. It was brought here to fulfil someone's whims, but it was unable to satisfy the human's insatiable greed. It has no place here. There is no purpose for it on this continent. Nobody wants it here. People put it upon themselves to destroy it whenever they can. Humans put it here, and now for the same reasons they destroy it. It can do nothing but exist. There is nothing else that it can do.

I definitely relate to this weed. As I careen along watching fields passing by, I think about those plants doomed only to be destroyed.

I'm allergic to johnsongrass. Go figure.

Hello, and welcome to the future. This is the new version of my website. Please feel free to look around. You'll have to excuse the mess; it's still a work in progress. Everything that is here is fully functional, so you can comment on things all you want. You can even comment on this post, if you want.

I strongly suggest that you check out the "Weekly" menu up above. Those things will be updated on a weekly basis, and it will be the core of the site.

And for those of you who actually want to know what has been going on in my life for the last couple months . . .

Click here for a very very brief update.

I can make posts from my PDA anywhere that has WIFI. I find that pretty awesome.

This semester is it. In the next several months, my path will be set. It may not be from any direct decision from myself, but by the natural course of events. Whatever the case, the end of this semester could very possibly be the dawning of a completely new direction.

The term "new direction" might be a bit misleading. That almost infers that I had a direction before. I currently have no direction for myself. Everything I once felt like I wanted has changed. Every dream I thought I had is - well it isn't destroyed, just shaken. The once perfect dream that I once had - the dream that I can't even seem to describe anymore - is clouded and obscured by a series of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

I currently have a full fledged war inside my head. It is not a simple army vs. army war. When is internal conflict ever like that? This is a cold war. My brain is at war with itsself, and neither side seems to know that it is at war with the other. It's like I am leading several sepparate lives, each with it's own friends and goals and even dreams. I suppose this isn't extremely odd, but it's not making my life at all managable. I seriously need a purpose, and nothing I can think of is working.

My shoes never stay tied.

Let me explain just how terrible my physics professor is. I'm currently sitting in my physics class, and since I can't stand to listen to him talk, I decided to do something productive and post something on my website about him. He is without a doubt the worst teacher I've ever had. He talks like the comedian Ben Stein, except that he does it naturally and it's even less funny. He really has one of the most deeply boring personalities on the face of the planet. I often think of him sitting at family gatherings, prattling on about random confusing things, boring the crap out of all of the children who were dragged to the thing. His family members (probably his adult grandchildren) would all look at each other and feel extremely sorry for his students.

I am one of those poor unfortunate students. I can sit here listening to him ramble, and I learn absolutely nothing. We have these electronic response pads, and he randomly gives us multiple choice questions to answer with them. We usually get them wrong (by 'we' I mean the entire lecture hall full of students) and he chuckles to himself and explains why we are all incompetant. The problem is that he doesn't seem to feel the need to teach us the material covered in the question. He doesn't seem to understand that this is the physics class for students who didn't take any physics in high school. We don't know what he is talking about most of the time. He might as well give us the final on the first day of class, and then spend the rest of the semester explaining to us all why we were wrong.

I'm lucky that I have Chris around to help me with the homework. He keeps telling me that the class is easy, but I am not quite as physically inclined as he is. This is going to be a hard semester.

"Look at me. I am pain. I am now from tip to toe. Look at me I am the solution. There is no solution. How about it then. That's the smart - arsest simplest answer going. The last answer to the first question. There is no solution.

But you're all adding a 'maybe' arent you."

Ok, I know that last post was a little depressing. I know that my discussion board is broken and it needs to be completely rebuilt. I know that I need to analyze my play character and get a good set of ideas for him ready tomorrow. I know that I need to study physics for my exam on Monday which will probably kick my ass. I know that I need to work on my CGT 211 project. I know that I am really low on money and I should be doing something to make more. I know that there are girls out there who are just waiting for me to meet them. I know, I know, I know. It's just that Mike (my roomate) has Fable on his modded X-Box, and it's such an amazing game that I can't stop playing it. Oh, Peter Molineaux, do you ever have any ideas for games that aren't completely amazing?

Between Fable and the absolutely amazing F.E.A.R. demo that I just got with my PC Gamer, I haven't gotten much done today. I hear Fable is really short, and there are only so many times I can play through the 10 minute demo before it gets old, so it should end soon.

Hopefully

Read

I just got back from play rehearsal. That . . . was . . . actually . . . well . . . fun! It was such an uplifting experience to actually be a part of something. For the first time I really felt like I was necessary.

Get up - ah! Get on up!

Get up - ah! Get on up!

Get up - ah! Get on up!

Stay on the scene! Like a sex machine!

For what it's worth, I fixed the discussion page. You can now make your own comments. I didn't make a new topic this week because I don't think there's much point. I have apparently lost about 90% of my audience, so there isn't much point to spending too much on the site.

So for anyone who cares anymore (Mom and Dad), I am thinking about leaving Purdue. I'm thinking about it more and more every day. The problem is that once I think that I have to decide what I'm going to do instead, and so far the answer to that question has eluded me. I want to leave this lousy computer graphics department and do something that I can 1, do, and 2, actually care about. I want to go into writing or anything with less manual art. I can't draw, and I never could. That's why I wanted to go into computer graphics, because I can animate things very well, but I can't draw them at all. I didn't think that I would have to draw at all in order to animate, but I guess I was wrong. Maybe I'll just CODO into computer science and get a degree in that, just for something to do. I have a feeling that I won't actually use a degree for the information it teaches me. I just need something to say that I graduated and I am competant, and I need to do something that will give me enough free time to work on independant projects like this site. Independant projects are the things that will get me jobs, not degrees or grades. Those are the the thoughts swirling around in my head right now.

I hope that I can be accepted a little more into the play, because I really need some friends.

Cameron Marston sometimes makes me very upset. He has a very abrasive nature to him which can become infuriating if you don't know him. It's just his way, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Everyone has their annoying faults. I have recently been tested in my patience to keep him around. He comes in my room (there is a history of annoyance with him and my room, after all) and uses my couch, my television, Mike's Xbox, and our bathroom. Then he makes very asinine comments about us and the things that we love.

This is not a Cameron bashing post, so stick with me.

He has recently reminded me just why I am friends with him in the first place, and why we all put up with his asinine nature. He sent me an email in response to my last post. He didn't want to leave it as a comment because he was afraid of being cut off by the 2000 character limit. I told him that I would upload it, and now I've decided to do it as a full post. I hope whoever randomly stumbled upon this site is entertained by my incessant descriptions of how I am finding myself.

And just to stay on topic here . . . I am still the only person who doesn't use a tray in the residence dining halls. Using trays is so conformist.

Cameron's Email

I know exactly why I came along. She was talking to her friends whom she hadn't seen for months, and she kept saying things to them, but directed at me. She kept smiling at me, like I knew what she was talking about. I stood there the entire time, only saying my name when one of her friends asked me who I was. I didn't come along to be a part of the conversation. Her hands were playing with one of the store shelves, clicking it into place and lowering it back down again. She smiled again, her blue eyes shooting towards me through black eyelashes. She smiled again, her round cheeks glowed under the florescent lights. She told me how different things seemed to her after being away for five months. I told her she looked gorgeous. she told me she didn't know what she wanted to do with her life.

She drove, and I was folded next to her. She turned the radio up. Her round cheeks glowed under the sunlight. That's why I came along. Sunlight came through the car's windows and danced across her skin. The rays of sunlight could not have chosen a more beautiful subject to illuminate. There are fields of roses, ancient forests, miles of calm ocean, and fresh snow covered mountains which are lit every single day by lucky rays of sunlight. Those rays, the ones that light the beautiful things on this planet, are jealous of the ones that come to Earth to light her face. It is for those rays of light that I came along. If all I get is two hours every five months to be able to see those rays of sunlight carry out their journey, I am still eternally greatful.

Shauvon, Just tell her that, and the rest will fall into place. And go eat something.

Just once I want to feel like I belong. Just once I want to feel like I am wanted. I'm sick of just sitting here like someone's paper doll. Everyone is thinking the same thing at this point. I am in complete control of the situation, and it's completely my choice if I belong or not. It's just not that easy, ok? Thanks for the wonderful advice and all, but it's like telling a football running back to avoid the other team's players.

It's not that easy.

The only black family (named the Black family) was eliminated from the Amazing Race. Now it's a show completely filled with white Americans, and it's called the Amazing Race. The United States sucks ass.

From now on, I am deleting any posts that are either incoherant, stupid, or insulting to myself. That means you, whoever that moron was who keeps calling me an idiot. As long as you can't have an argument without calling the other person an "idiot" or a "fucking douche," you will never be heard, and your argument will be ignored. Now go make stupid comments on someone else's site, Napoleon Dynamite.

Captain's Log

I've been home for 22 hours now. It's always strange to go home for a weekend. I lived here for 18 years, but it isn't really home anymore. It's like going from one TV show to another, from one set of recurring plot lines to a completely different set of recurring plot lines. Now instead of hanging out with college students, I am with my parents and sister. Instead of 2:00 AM Wal-Mart runs, it's 2:00 PM Wal-Mart runs. Instead of extremely adult language, it's slightly less adult language. Instead of class, it is a renesaince festival. Everything is so familiar, but also foreign at the same time.

Everyone say hello to the new audience. Several members of the Road cast have told me that they have gone to this site. I am working on a Road website. It is a sort of online playbill. You can see the progress (hopefully) at road.denyconformity.com. I hope to have a pretty major chunk of it done by the time I get back to school on Tuesday.

Captain's log, suplemental

Is it bad that I am honestly considering changing the site so that each post is a "captain's log" and the dates are all in "stardate" ?? I don't know if you really have to answer that.

Ok, I'm back to school. Sorry about no poem on Monday or joke on Tuesday. "Pretty major chunk" ended up just being the main page. It's ok, though, because with the main page done, the rest will fall into place. I'm really pleased with a couple of the pictures on the main page (mouseover the signs to see different pictures). There are a couple that just don't work as well as the others, though. Please leave comments here if you have any useful ideas or just feel like saying something about the site. Thanks.

There will be a discussion on Thursday.

It happened. My bike is gone. I very vividly remember exactly where I put it last night, and I am very sure that it was locked tight. This morning, it was gone, lock and all. I loved that bike. I could make it from my room to anywhere on campus in five minutes flat. Now it's gone. I can only assume that someone has stolen it. I can't believe that anyone could have, though, since I was the only person I knew who could fit on it without castrating myself.

Missing: 2002 Specialized Rockhopper, blue with black handlebars, very tall, with a Trek seat and mostly aftermarket parts. Value: a lot. If anyone is in the Lafayette area and finds a bike fitting those descriptions, let me know and I'll hunt it down. I might even offer a reward. I swear if someone stole it and I ever get my hands on him . . .

Let's just say that they'll never be able to ride a bike again.

Walking from Meredith to Krannert hall sucks. This is really going to be a bad day. My soap fell in the shower this morning, and when I reached down to grab it it just dissolved into nothing. That's never a good sign. I probably won't get lunch today, and that's not a good thing either. I won't get home until 11 tonight, because I'll be at practice trying to fit in. That means that I won't be able to stay home with my friends and try to fit in, so I'll miss everything that happens. I hate days like this.

Now I have to walk to my 211 lab. I want my bike back.

So yesterday I lost my bike, I lost my soap, I lost quite a bit of my self esteem, and I lost quite a bit of my hope. Then I had to lose something else. Mom, you'll really enjoy this. For the play I'm in, I had to have my hair cut. A great deal of my hair was removed, and with it went a great deal of my sense of originality. I sat in the chair, a beautiful young girl stood behind me wearing several shirts. (She had like 5 shirts on, and they didn't seem to be able to do the job of one. I'm not complaining) First went the clippers, then the scissors, then the clippers again. Handfulls of hair fell on my lap; clumps of curly red hair bounced on my shoulders. In one lock of hair was my pride, my sense of accomplishment. Another one contained my faith in the future, my ability to have hope that things will maintain some sort of continuity. She methodically removed my hair from my head. She removed my confusion, my lack of perception. Down fell my constant nagging sense of failure. The buzz of the cippers removed my fear.

I would like to say that the haircut cleansed my soul, and now I am returned to a neutral state, ready to take on life. I really want to say that, but I won't. I am still the same insecure and lonely person I was before. The only difference is that now I can see my ears in the mirror. A haircut causes a great deal of excitement for only about five minutes. I went to practice, put my stuff down, and realized that everyone was looking at me. They all said their version of "it looks really good" and went on their way. Nothing more needs to be said.

I have apparently broken my mp3 player now, as well. It fell about 3 feet from my chair, and now the hard drive is damaged and it won't play. I didn't just have 1700 songs on it, but I also used it to back up my computer. Those things are all permanently gone. I can't blame this one on thievery. Only one person is to blame. It really makes me wonder what else I am going to lose.

At night I sort through my day. I feel a great warmth in the distance. A bright light is calling me, but I don't know how to get to it. A vast hope is just out of reach. I don't know how to reach it. I can't reach it. Then it disappears, and I go to sleep.

This play is definitely one of the best things to happen to me in a long time. I almost forgot what the sound of people uproariously laughing together sounded like. I've spent 4 hours a night, every day for a month with these people, and I don't think I have heard a single insulting remark the entire time. No obnoxiously critical declarations, no references to obvious weaknesses, no putdowns have been thrown. I think television has infected society with an unhealthy need to insult each other. I now remember why I love to do theatre.

Reason number 368: The absolute hilarity of the dressing rooms.

Reason number 1,427: The complete and total teamwork.

Reason number 456: The unadulterated love that is shared between absolutely everyone.

Reason number 138: The complete acceptance of everyone by everyone.

etc. etc. etc.

The best thing about it is that I get twice as much of it as I'm used to with high school. Also, this is the first time I've ever done any group activity where every single person gets along so well. There is no hatred at all between anyone in the cast or crew. Tonight we had a 10 minute break after dress rehearsal, and everyone was in such a goofy mood. It was without a doubt the best 10 minutes of my recent memory. If you're in the Lafayette area, definitely check out Road between October 20th and October 30th. It is going to be one hell of a show.

The play is going amazingly. I have had so much fun doing it, and I can't wait until I get to have more fun tomorrow. This is so exactly what I needed, it's not even funny. I feel so appreciated for being the goofball that I am. My other friends are aware of my goofyness, sure, but there is something different with the theatre people. They respect me and admire me, almost as much as I respect and admire them, and that is what makes it awesome. Honestly, for the first time in several years, I feel like I have a distinct place in this world. I finally feel like I belong.

Ok, maybe it is a little funny.

I just saw the movie Prime. It was terrible, but Meryl Streep saved it completely. Oh, Meryl Streep.

I can't believe the play only has one show left. I wish it could go on forever. Right now I think I am going to just throw caution to the wind and switch my major to Theatre. I am so happy when I am doing theatre, so why not just do it? I should do what makes me happy, right?

I'm pretty close to being broke. I'm going to have to get some sort of job. My problem is that I spend far too much money on other people. Nice guys definitely finish last. Maybe I just do it so I can use that as an excuse. I don't have to make a proper effort because if I fail, I can just blame it all on my being nice. I'll have to get over that.

Tomorrow will probably be pretty emotional. We'll have fun, though. I don't know what I'm going to do on Monday.

I think I might rasturbate a picture of Meryl Streep. Keira Knightley has nothing on her.

It's all over.

Do you want to know what I'm going to miss most about Road rehearsals? Getting respect from my peers. That was nice. Now I have to get used to not getting it anymore. Maybe it's time for people to get used to me refusing to put up with it anymore. I'll keep you informed.

You're not serious. You're not even a joke. You're just like all the rest of them. Frightened to sniff the wind for fear it'll blow your brain upside down and then you'll 'have to do something different.' Wasting your whole life. Work, work, work, work, work. Small wages, small wages, small wages. Getting by with a smile. Getting by without a smile. Work, work, work, work. Small wages. Then death with the big "D". Not even a smell left over from it all. If you're lucky, a see-through memory, slowly desolving like Steradent.

Shit happens.

For fuck's sake, is that all I can say?

Read

I finally had some time to sit down and work out a couple things with the site. First of all, I finally fixed the "About Me" page. It has a scrolling marquee that is supposed to say what I am currently doing, but it used to just say that I'm not doing anything. Well, I fixed it, so now if I am doing something (a rare occasion), it will say. I will put big occasions and appointments and things there, so you can always check to see if anything is going on. Or for you stalkers out there, you can easily see where I am at a given moment.

Also, you might notice a series of letters up above the site title. That is the latest updates ticker, and it will list the six most recent updates to the site. It cycles every eight seconds. This will make things easier for viewers, because all you have to do is click that text and it will take you straight to whatever update it is describing. Neat? Yes.

Stay tuned for further updates.

I'm switching majors to Theatre. It will be official pretty soon, and that makes a lot of changes in my life. I don't know if I want to get that internship at LucasArts anymore. Right now, I'm thinking that this summer I will do something completely new and exciting. I want to be a bartender or a DJ at some club. I probably won't have much to choose from in Indianapolis, however. We'll see what happens. I'll probably end up getting a day job somewhere and then working nights at Comedy Sportz, if my sister can get me in.

The world needs more things with the acronym "CS"

I just thought I would give a little update about the group project that I was in for CGT211. My good friend Extra Cameron, the Happy Canadian was also in the group. The project was to create pre-production materials for a movie / video / whatever of our choice. Extra Cameron, in a stroke of genius, decided that we should design a video for the Death Cab For Cutie song, What Sarah Said, from their new album. The song is hella depressing, so I won't go into huge detail about it. Just click the link below to get all the scoopage on said project.

Yes, this link right here.

I'm pretty much just making sure that my new image upload system works correctly. I'm going to be home most of next week for Thanksgiving, so I want to be able to make posts and upload images from home, which I should be able to do. I think the images work pretty well. If you want, I'll tell you what we did last night.

"Ok, Shauvon, tell me about last night."

I just got an email from Purdue. The subject bar is "DSE_info: PU program about stree and loss." I don't know what DSE is, but they keep sending me emails. They are usually spelled correctly, but sometimes they aren't. I wish I was on campus, because I would like to see a program about stree. I have always wanted to know more about stree.

Ok, the DSE needs to be stopped. I don't know what it is, but somebody really needs to start reading these emails. I just got one with the following subject:

DSE_Info: Come to Speed Dating to Help St. Jude Children's Research Hospital

What does that even mean? I don't want to speed date children.

The Matrix: The Path of Neo is one of the worst games I have ever played. How in the world could someone have played that game and decided that it's ready to be released. There are graphical glitches every 5 seconds (not even exaggerating), and animation glitches every single time you do anything. It brings several interesting points to mind.

I'm starting a list. Let this be not the definitive, but the ever adapting list of rules for game development. They aren't mandatory or anything, it's just things you should do if you want to make a good game. Go ahead and follow Shiny's plan of releasing whatever filth you come up with just to milk the cash cow. However, if you don't want 50 million suicides on your hands, you might want to think about making a decent game.

Shauvon's simple rules of game development.

I'm making gifts for everyone this year. Net cost to me thus far: $25. It's still going to be the best presents I've ever given.

December 15^th, 0800 hours.

T-Day.

Three tests, one day, hours of studying. So far things are going great. I knew my CPT 267 test was going to be easy, but then I saw the first question,

I almost fell out of my chair. It only got easier from there. My favorite was:

hmmmmmmmm, what could it be . . . . ?

The only confusing thing about the test was when I realized that there were two #42's, one of several stupid mistakes on the test. I love it when I could have taken my final a year ago and still gotten an A on it.

I'm not looking forward to the other two tests today. If another person tells me that I could have rescheduled them, I'll go insane. I am completely aware that if you have more than 2 tests on a single day you can reschedule one of them. I just didn't want to, because I don't really care. I like being able to take care of all of my tests in a big chunk. I'll be sure to post after The Economics and the Raster Imaging tests to let you all know how T-Day turned out.

One bonus of having to get up so early for the stupid test: being albe to blast my music at 9 in the morning and hoping that all of the morons in my hall are really annoyed by it. It's revenge for everyone who was yelling and screaming last night when I was trying to sleep, or for everyone who was yelling and screaming while I was trying to study, or for everyone who was yelling and screaming while I was trying to sit here without people yelling and screaming. There is far too much yelling and screaming in this hall.

For anyone who didn't find those two questions quite as easy as I did, it's fine. They are both just really easy programming questions. The first one is dealing with modulus (%) which takes two numbers and returns the remainder after deviding them. It's one of the simplest concepts in programming, and it basically means that a lot of the test was just simple elementary school math. The second question is slightly more complicated, but it's still insanely easy.

Well, I wanted to do something special for my 100^th post, but I can't think of anything. So I'm just getting it out of the way. Happy 100 to everyone.

Tomorrow is my first day as a Theatre major. I'll make a post talking about all of my classes. That's for you, Mom.

I moved back to the dorm yesterday (well, I moved in on Friday night, but my parents brought all my stuff yesterday morning. Things I forgot to pack:

1. All of my nice button-up shirts (which means I have no hangers).
2. The Shakespeare book that Mom got me for Christmas. I wanted to use some of his sonnets for POTWs, but I can't now.
3. The 5-subject notebook that I made sure to get for class.
4. Well, this isn't really a packing issue, but I forgot to backup all of my bookmarks when I reinstalled Windows last night.
5. I also forgot to look through my Dad's stuff and take back all of the clothes he stole from me. I'm missing a lot of t-shirts, Dad.

I don't know why, but I'm just not excited at all about this semester. I hope that goes away soon.

At 12:30 this afternoon, I went to my first class of the semester, and my first class as a theatre student. The class was Modern Dance. I'm less than excited about this. Hell, I'm less then worried about it, too. I'm one of about five guys in the class. You'd think that would be a good thing, but it's really not. I really don't know if I can do this.

Ok, so then at 1:30 I have my acting class. I'm not really extremely excited about it, either. I don't really know why (perhaps the dance class is just making me worried about everything), but I'm not looking forward to anything in the near future. Theatre 333 (acting 2) is taught by the professor who will be directing A Winter's Tale this spring. I've been able to work with him a very little bit, but from what I've seen he is a very excellent director and I like him a lot. I probably have a good shot at getting into Winter's Tale, but again I don't know if that's really a good thing. I'm wishing I hadn't switched to theatre. The problem is that I wouldn't really feel any better if I had stayed with CGT.

Just what the Hell am I supposed to do?

I am currently sitting in a Dairy Queen in Normal Illinois. Interesting fact about Dairy Queens in Normal Illinois: they offer free WIFI. I am here with a bunch of graduate students for the regional ACTF conference. Look it up yourself, it's annoying to type on this PDA. I just wanted to tell everyone that I found normal, and as I suspected, my mom isn't here.

Ok, so the ACTF is the American College Theatre Festival. This thing I'm at is the regional competition. A representitive comes to each show at each school in the country and they pick the best actor or actress to go to this competition. Everyone who is selected picks a partner (it can be anyone) and then picks two scenes to do with that person and then a monologue. After round one (which happened bright and early this morning), the more than 350 teams is thinned down to 35. Those 35 then do their scenes again, and one of them is selected to go to the national competition. The winner of that competition wins a nice $2,500 scholarship. Last year, the lovely and talented Amanda Folena (from right here at Purdue) went all the way and won the national scholarship. So remember that next time you think Purdue's theatre department doesn't exist. Here are those nominated from Purdue:

• Caley Milliken, from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.
• Joe Quadres, from A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.
• Andrew Carlson, from Arms and the Man
• Stacie Hadgikosti, from Arms and the Man
• Annelise Dickinson, from His Occupation
• Alexander Floyd, from His Occupation
• Lauren Sivak, from Marisol
• Matthew Erickson, from Metamorphoses
• Suzanne Miller, from Metamorphoses
• Lauren Briggeman, from Road (for those of you who saw Road, she was the angry Daughter who gave the speach near the end about everything being dirty)
• Peter Kremidas, from Road (again, for those of you who saw Road, he was the guy who starved himself)

An Impressive list, to be sure. Five of them are grad students (the ones in bold), and the others are undergrad. I have the honor of being the lovely and talented Matthew Erickson's partner. It's a real honor to be chosen by him, because I've seen him in several shows and I really look up to him. We performed this morning, at about 11:40 (Normal time; 12:40 Lafayette time). As it turns out, you can only do one scene of the two you selected for the first run, because there are so many groups. Matthew and I did a scene from Beggars in the House of Plenty by John Patrick Shanley. It went pretty well. I was also able to see the lovely and talented Andrew Carlson's scene, the lovely and talented Annelise Dickinson's scene, and the lovely and talented Caley Milliken's scene. I'll report on how everything went later. Stay tuned.

In case you haven't noticed, I refer to everyone in theatre as "lovely and talented."

Only one group made it to the 35. Stacie Hadgikosti and her partner Paul Corning made it in at number 31 (which I think was just randomly assigned, so it has nothing to do with rank). They didn't make it any farther. I saw the group that supposedly beat Matt and me, and they were lame.

The whole thing is lame. The idea of competitive theatre makes me sick. It's behind me now, though, so whatever. More Purdue teams should have gone through.

I just really wish that I wasn't a complete idiot and that I hadn't forgotten to take my camera anywhere. I missed a lot of great pictures. Especially the completely stupid "dance" that we went to Wednesday night.

So that's what happened.

I'm starting to see just how dark this world is. More and more, I'm realizing that there is no real creativity anymore. Any attempt to produce any creative thought is immediatly and painfully shot down. I can see where the games industry is leading, and it's heading down a road that I can't follow. I can't work in a world where the only definition for success is profit. I can't play by their rules.

Things I've seen about Path of Neo haunt me. PC Gamer gave it a 67 percent, which they call "above average." They admit that it's not a great game, but they call it above average because it's all they get. How can everyone just roll over and accept that filth? As my friend Scott Shultz put it, "[Path of Neo] had lots of bugs and the gameplay was pretty bad, also the gun fighting was not to my satisfaction. But when I installed the game the only thing I was really looking for was some descent hand to hand combat and it following the movie fairly well. I got that and so I was happy enough to get past the bugs and gameplay(which by the way the combat is really not that bad once you get used to it)."

Scott's statement sums up the entire game industry. Here is what he is saying:

"It's pretty painful to play, but I want to play a(n) [insert genre] game, and it is the only possible option. The human body can endure quite a bit of pain, anyway."

Why do we have to settle? Why are we forced to pay for the EA Games-fueled plague of lazyness and apathy among developers?

This is only the beginning. What will be left in 5 years when I might be ready to make any sort of difference? What will be left worth fighting for?

I found out last night that I can't move back into the same dorm room again next year. They(the Morons In Charge)'re changing this wing of Meredith to be all girl next year. This means that I can't have this room back, because the MIC are too scared to make it coed. This really screws me, because it's too late to get a decent apartment. I'm very much not wanting to get another dorm room if I can't have this one. Any other room that would be similar to this one would be quite a bit more expensive.

So I need one of two things to happen:

• Either someone who is moving out of an apartment or has room there so I can move in
• Or someone who knows a way that I can fight the MIC about this.

So if you have room in your apartment, you're moving out at the end of this year, or you know someone who will have room next year, please contact me and we'll discuss it. Also, if you're interested in bureaucracy and you think I might be able to get the MIC to leave this hall alone, contact me. Simmilarly, if you think I'm awesome and you want to tell me, contact me. One more thing, if you have a lot of money, and you think I should have some of it, contact me.

The auditions for The Winter's Tale and The Story About a Girl were last night. I auditioned with a piece from Henry v. Today I found out that I am called back for the role of Camilla in The Winter's Tale. The callback takes place on Friday afternoon. It should be pretty cool. There will be some dancing at this callback, which I'm not too good with, but I will do my best.

I went to see the Crazy Monkeys tonight. They are one of Purdue's only improv comedy group. They aren't bad. One of my personal idols is in the group. Peter Kremidas is unarguably one of the funniest people I have ever met. I look up to him in almost ever way. I say almost because he's a good two feet shorter than me, so I don't look up to him in the physical sense. I've never really just completely wished that I could be someone else. There are a billion things that I've wished were different about me, but I've never just completely wanted to be another person. I wish I was Peter Kremidas.

Anyway, Peter wants me to try out for the Crazy Monkeys in a week or so. It makes me nervous as hell. I don't know if I can hack it.

Jeff Casazza put the cast list for The Winter's Tale up yesterday night. I am the High Priest of Apollo. Jeff did a lot of tweaking with the original script for the play, and my role is a part that he actually made out of some of the other lines. It will be a literal interpretation of a "High" priest. Jeff told me that I have the best costume in the show. I'm very excited about that. I apparently also have minions, which I'm also excited about. This role should be pretty small, so I will have plenty of time for the Crazy Monkeys if I am accepted as one of them.

I'm very displeased by the news that John Carmack has announced that his primary platform will be the XBox 360.

Who's bright idea was it to have Madden do the Superbowl? They made a very bad decision.

I'm not watching the game right now. I want to see how long I can go without knowing who wins. My goal is to make it to the next superbowl without hearing about it. I doubt it can be done, but it's really worth a shot. Anyway, nobody tell me who wins the game.

The audition for the Monkeys was last night. I think I did alright. My scene work was pretty good. My real weakness is the games where we stand in a line and make jokes about something. Last night we played b movie, in which we say "I saw a bad movie about _ last night" then everyone else says "how bad was it?" and we say "it was so bad, _." I pretty much bombed that one. I've never been good with being on the spot, which is why I don't think I should really do improv, but it especially hurts in a game like b movie or worlds worst. I've always wanted to have a quick wit like my uncle Mike, up near Detroit. He makes jokes all the time, and I think he would be perfect at improv games like that. I try to make puns like that, but I usually can't think of anything. Anyway, I don't really know how well it went. This is pretty much my one chance to work with Peter before he leaves Purdue, and I would like to get in for that reason alone. They said they would call in the next couple days if I made it. I'm not holding my breath.

In other News, I've made some small changes to the site. You might have noticed that the menus have changed. This is something new that I'm trying, and I'm going to see what more I can do with javascript effects. If the buttons don't seem to work correctly, you should try to refresh the page, and it might work better. I kinda' like this way, but Cameron said that it overlaps content, which isn't good. I might switch back to the old way, but we'll see. I've also tweaked the updates ticker on top of the screen, so it includes the News Quote^tm changes now, and you can look at past quotes if you click the ticker when it has something about the quote on it. As always, you can click on the ticker and it will take you to whatever it is referencing. I'm working on the page that lists all of the updates in a big list, but it isn't working yet.

I'm in.

I just felt I needed to make some sort of update. I'm at home for the weekend, for my Dad's 50th birthday. It's somewhat odd to think that my Dad is 50. It's worse thinking that I'm going to be 20 this year.

Anyway, I'm home for a couple days to hang out with dad. We played a game of the Star Trek card game, and looked at some renderings. Then I showed my parents The Aristocrats, which was a nice experience. We also played with Dad's new camera. It's an amazing single lense reflex from Nikon. I'm in love.

See some pictures.

Jim Davis is a comic genius. His strip, Garfield isn't really very funny anymore. To the untrained eye! He obvously knew that to branch off into more cerebral comedy would kill his strip, so he kept it somewhat normal. However, if you simply remove all of Garfield's thought bubbles, it becomes one of the funniest comic strips to ever grace the newspaper. Find out for yourself.

Click Here

Every weekend is progressively worse, all because I don't drink. This sucks.

Most of all, I need to get her out of my head.

Confusion. Question. Doubt. A pupil dilates. A person breaks down. Watching someone cry. Performing for no one. A scream. Trying to fit in. Trying not to conform. Overwelming emotion. Overwelming reaction. Overwelming curiosity. Bare feet. Two different colored socks. Reason. Excuse. Refusal. Acceptance. Interrogation. Suprise. Accepting suprise. Standing head and shoulders above everyone. Admiration. Accepting admiration. Always the same answer. Six eight. Taller than Michael Jordan. Shorter than a freak. Never alone. A lack of privacy. An audience. Accepting an audience. Attraction. Desire. Love. Confusion. Question. Doubt. A pupil dilates. Watching someone smile. Smiling back. A wrinkle forms. Accepting wrinkles. A dream. A noise in the dark. A response. Losing sleep. Accepting insomnia. Waiting. Always waiting. For someone. For something. Patience. Accepting patience. Opening up. Expression. Release. Confusion. Question. Doubt. Emotional breakdown. Crying. Accepting breakdown. Introversion. Self doubt. Self hatred. Self pity. Self discovery. Self exploration. Self destruction. Self denial. Self loathing. Accepting self. Justification. Excuses. Procrastination. Surrender. Accepting surrender. The end. The beginning. Change. Accepting change. Loss. Wishes. Fear. Hatred. Beauty. Creativity. Humor. Ignorance. Stupidity. Immaturity. Balance. Managment. Planning. Impulse. Letting go.

I am ready. I am ready.

Accepting confusion. Accepting question. Accepting doubt. Accepting my life.

Ok, the same game once again. I'm going to try to go as long as possible without knowing what travesty of modern film has won the best picture award. I really hate the Oscars, and I really hate whatever collection of stupidity that calls itsself "the academy."

So don't tell me.

Well, I'm home right now for Spring Break. There are now two big dogs here, and they get along well enough to help each other bother us to no end. The animal hair and dust is really getting to me, and I am starting to agree with the otolaringologist that I am allergic to cats and dogs. Mom wants me to make more posts that are along the Deny Conformity theme, so stay tuned for that. I'm going to go back to playing System Shock 2, now.

I just saw V For Vendetta. It's a very good movie. There is much to discuss about it, and I don't really feel like making a really long post about anything right now. I'll just say that I really liked the movie. I liked most of it, that is. I liked everything but the scene where Natalie Portman gets her head shaved. That was very tramatic for me. Anyway, V is an interesting movie about rules and when violence is justified. I recommend it.

I woke up this morning and looked out the window. I was greeted with a very strange view.

Click Here

My mom told me that I need more posts about denying conformity. Here you go!

Click Here

I just went through a time warp. The Crazy Monkeys went to Champaign, Illinois for an Improv show Saturday night. They are an hour behind Indiana. We went and the guys had a great show. Then, at 2 AM (3 AM Indiana time), the clocks rolled up an hour, for daylight savings time. This year, Indiana decided to participate in this rediculous waste of time (literally), so everybody rolled up an hour. I hadn't changed my watch back to Illinois time, so in the end I didn't have to because the time zone changed itself to my watch. All I had to do was roll my watch up an hour when we got back to Indiana. The problem is that at some point in there, I lost an hour. I never rolled my watch back an hour, but I rolled it forward. I hate time.

I thought up two things after this adventure through time.

1.) Some day, I will attempt to go around the world backwards, and see if it's possible to stay between 12:00 and 1:00 for an entire day. I'll make a TV show about it.

2.) Next year, I'm going to Cincinnatti for the Daylight Savings switch. Theoretically, I'll get my hour back. Hell, I might as well go all the way to the next time zone after that, and I'll make my hour back plus interest.

The time is currently 01:02:03 04/05/06. Enjoy.

There are some pretty rediculous things going on right now. Here is one.

John Deely is a bastard.

We had our first dress rehearsal for The Winter's Tale on Monday, but unfortunately I also had an exam for my Stat class. No worries, I thought, I'll just go in before the exam and ask when the makeup session is. Every exam I've been to here at Purdue has had a makeup session, so that people in my position can take the test later when it is more convenient. The Winter's Tale is an academic function, so it definitely has precedence over an exam, and I am allowed to take any conflicting exam later. John Deely didn't think so. John Deely is the "professor" of my Stat class. When I went in to tell him that I couldn't take the test (after having just walked from my room to Lynn hall and then to Matthews just to find the guy), he took me into the hallway and gave me a very well practiced and loud speech. It would have been intimidating and a maybe even a little scary if he wasn't straining to look up so he could yell at my face. He asked me if I thought this was High School. He said that he thought we were more mature than that. He apparently had something against me telling him that I couldn't take the test at the last minute. I had every reason to turn it right back at him and chew him out for being an asshole, but I stroked the little man's ego, just to humor him. I shut up and stared down at his bald spot (honestly, you can't intimidate a guy who's a good two feet taller than you, John). I just went ahead and took the test, since it wasn't really necessary for me to be at the dress rehearsal right away anyway.

Thanks to the glories of modern internet, I can tell the world what I wished I had said to John Deely. Here's what I really wanted to say to him:

Ok, listen up, buddy. (take step forward, really emphasising the height) You have absolutely no right to talk to me like that. Quite a bit of money exchanged hands so that I could go here, so I'm not doing this for your benefit. I pay you, pal. The money you spend on your comeover comes straight from my tuition, little man, so you better respect me. I came in here with every bit of respect for you, and I respectfully asked you to make up the test, and you think you have the right to yell at my face? I can't take this test because I have an academic function which I am contractually obliged to attend. You're going to let me make up this test tomorrow, or I'm going to get the dean in here to explain it to you further. You talk to me about maturity? You think your class is so much more than high school? Look, pal, you're teaching a bunch of Liberal Arts majors at an engineering school. This test that people are taking is open book, and open note. You're questioning my maturity, and you're teaching a class that has all open book exams? You're absolutely right, pal, this is nothing like high school. I never had anything this easy in high school. I know you get off on yelling at students, and I'm terribly sorry that I'm not going to just bend over and let you go nuts, but nobody - especially nobody who's paid with my money - talks to me like that. I'll see you tomorrow. (Put badass sunglasses on and walk out)

I had every right to say that to him, but I'm kinda glad I didn't. I just took the test and got it out of the way.

The Winter's Tale is opening tonight. I'm not really that excited, because I'm only on stage for a total of about 10 minutes, most of which is just sitting there looking at people talk. I am excited for the other cast members, though. Hopefully we will have all of our costumes ready, because as of last night, they still weren't done yet. It should be interesting.

The show went really well. I had fun, and I think everyone else did, too. It really is a breathtaking spectacle, and everyone who can should see it. After the show tonight there was this reception for everyone. They had some cookies and punch out and everyone gathered to discuss the show. The audience was mostly older people tonight, but there were some younger folks as well. Richard Rand saw the show tonight, and he really enjoyed it. Rich directed Road, which I was in last semester, and he's an amazing director to work with. I felt really akward, though. For some reason I feel like I'm in a different show than everyone else. I sit backstage and watch the show through the closed-circuit television, and then I go on for a couple minutes to say my lines. Of course the only things people said to me tonight were mentioning how tall I looked in my costume. That's really my only function. My sole purpose is to look impressive. I don't have to act. I just have to be tall. I can't really say that I'm not excited to be able to use my only strong physical characteristic. To be honest, I have been training for this my entire life. I just feel sepparated from the rest of the cast for some reason. It must just be me, because I felt this way about Road, too. I do have fun, and I enjoy goofing around with everyone backstage. I can't help but feel like the only reason I'm there is because I am abnormally and freakishly tall, and they are exploiting the fact that people like to stare at me. Other people talk about their lives, like what they've done recently, or movies they like. People only talk to me about how tall I am. It's ok, though, beacause my life is pretty boring, so I wouldn't really have anything else to talk about anyway.

It's just really hard to describe how I am feeling. Maybe I should write a movie about it.

Tuesday evening, at 5:30 PM, the cast of The Winter's Tale played the first official games for the Purdue Theatre Basketball League (PTBL). We had 14 people show up, so we set up 3 teams. Two of the teams had five people, and one had 4. We commenced a four on four on four tournament. I was on the four person team, with my Li'l Chum and Stevie Chaddock. We also had a guy who was a friend of one of the cast. I don't know where this guy came from, but I sure was glad he was on our team. Even though we had one less player than the rest of the teams, we still held our own. The first game we played we lost, but then after recouperating and watching our two competitors play, we performed much better. We beat both teams, and then beat the first one again for the hell of it. We are therefore the ultimate PTBL champions. It feels very good to be on top, even though many of my muscles don't. The next game is next Tuesday at 5:30, so we'll have to defend our title then. I don't think it will be very hard, considering we are champions.

Also, I made my first slam dunk on Tuesday, which is pretty exciting. Ok, so it was more of a lay-up where I touched the rim, but it went in. I'll keep working, and soon I'll be a slam dunk champion, too. I sure have more dunks on my record than anyone else in the PTBL. I'm starting to see why people always wonder if I play basketball. I am pretty awesome.

There are some pretty rediculous things going on right now. Here's another one.

I found an idiot. It's really not that hard to find an idiot around here, but I'm pretty proud of this one. He's a really stupid one. His name is Joey Marburger, and he is the assistant features editor for the Purdue Exponent. This man (boy) is one of the primary reasons why the Purdue student newspaper is knicknamed the "Excrement" by most of the students. Here is Joey's column from Thursday, April 20^th, entitled

Excise proves freedom isn't free

My sister, Aili (who readers of this site have met already) has made several proud accomplishments. She recently accomplished one. My sister is a homeowner.

I will turn this text into a link to see more.

My sister, Aili (who readers of this site have met already) has made several proud accomplishments. She recently accomplished one. My sister is a homeowner.

Click here for more.

I wish I could make an extended post mocking the lame news coverage of voting, but I don't have the time. The 2006 Primaries were this past Tuesday, if some of you didn't notice. I can understand if you weren't extremely excited about who your county commissioner, prosecutor, or sheriff is. I'm sure you're even less interested about who could possibly be running for those positions in the fall. That's the really pointless thing about these primaries. You're not voting for anything (with one exception, which I'll get to), you're just voting for who you want to vote for in November. Plus, you have to pick a party and just vote for them, and in Hancock county (where I'm from), only one party exists. Hancock has voted Republican in every election since Lincoln. That's a legacy we're not soon to give up. As a result, you're stupid if you vote for any other party (I say that like it's a big choice, there's only one other party) in the primaries, because they will lose, without fail. So, yes, I am sorry to say that I am currently classified as a Republican.

The one important thing (and the only reason I went home during finals), was the school board race. People might remember my long post about Dr. Riggs and his crazy construction plan (go ahead and click anywhere between these parentheses to read that post). His crazy construction plan was turned down by the public, thankfully, but we need people in the board to tell him that he's an idiot and stop him before he does anything else really stupid. My mom was the campaign manager for a candidate who promises to do just that. These two guys, David Bush and Shelton Oakes ran for school board with the local taxpayers in mind. The board needed two new members. Shelton Oakes was elected, but David Bush unfortunately came in third place. A lady (the only woman running) got the first seat. I will avoid getting into the politics of it all, but needless to say we're somewhat upset that Bush didn't get elected. We're almost as upset as when that other Bush was elected.

Anyway, I stood with my Mom outside one of the voting places to hand out buttons and tell everyone that David Bush and Shelton Oakes would appreciate their vote. I believe that's called Electioneering. In total, about 250 people showed up at the Fortville Boys and Girl's club to vote. That's out of about 1200 registered voters who were supposed to go there, and that's about of about twice that many eligible adults in that part of Fortville. That makes it about a 10% turn out.

I voted at my old high school (going back to that place was a very tramatic experience). I was number 194, and I voted at about 1:30. The poles were open at 6:00.

It just really gets me that so few people care.

Some pictures

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Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column

Peter Kremidas has written the first Deny Conformity guest column. Here it is for your viewing pleasure.

This column was written by Peter Kremidas, and is his intellectual property.

Guest Column