Well, before I get into a rant, I would like everyone to note a disturbing coincidence. Almost the moment I start talking about philosophy and fate, the comment system gets shut down (the guy who runs it got kicked off his service for no apparent reason). Is this some vast conspiracy by the powers that be to stop me from taking down the system? Is the very mention that someone may be onto their plans cause enough to attempt to stop all discussion of the problem? Is Karl Rove God? At least one of those is No, you can be sure (he'd be Satan first). Anyway, it certainly does seem odd to me. But the comments will apparently be back by the weekend, so either say what ya want then, or remain silent like most of you bums usually do.
On to business. Today, like most other days, was long, tedious, and mostly uneventful. I actually started the morning more energetic than I was by the time first period was halfway over. It's amazing how well hindsight can work sometimes. I think this semester would have been perfect with two minor adjustments. But nnoooo. Such are the failures of foresight. I suppose it keeps things interesting, but that certainly doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. Really, for all my complaints, the only actual burden is stress. It's really strange too, because it's irrational stress. Once you realize the vast majority of things you do will be forgotten eventually, rendering them worthless. My mind accepts it, but my subconscious looks at it, chews it a bit, then spits it out, and places it in a biohazard container that is immediately sent to Venus where it is expected to rot for a few thousand years until some sentient lifeform opens it and repeats pandora's box!
Where was I....Ummm....Oh yes. So today I was scheduled for a doctor's appointment at 3:45. Now, as many of you know, getting out of school is never easy. But getting out early is apparently even harder. In order to get to my appointment, I need to leave 10 minutes early. So, my mother prepares a nice, legible note complete with full information and confirmation number which I gave to the office this morning. Immediately something was off. Maybe it was the fear in the air. Maybe it was the screams and wails of utter terror coming from the background. Maybe it was the quite shifty look in the office worker's eyes. Or perhaps it was that I received the distinct impression that the woman did not know what she was doing.
Ah, utter cluelessness. The plague of many things, not the least of which is bureaucracy. Now, I'm under the influence of this peculiar defect often, and I must say, it can be rather interesting. It encourages one to run around screaming "DDOOOOOMMMMEEEDDD! WE'RE ALL DOOOOOMMMEEEDDDD!!!" But when it interferes with a job involving complex procedures of filing, dialing, and possibly conversing, it's a whole nother ball game. Suffice it to say, I heard neither hide, hair, or gallbladder of the note the entire day. Now, on the office's credit, my father didn't know I had an appointment today. So if they did in fact call him, he may have thought they were crazy, cursed them to the extent of not only making a sailor blush, but also feel so ashamed and shocked that he fully repented his sins and lived a life of seclusion and personal improvement the rest of his oh so short life, hung up, and subsequently threw a javelin through the chest of the mailroom worker that just happened to be handing him a fresh batch of sticky notes with which he uses to give paper cuts and leave bloody wads of paper stuck all over the door to his boss's office (that's a bit of exaggeration there folks, I'm pretty sure my dad's work doesn't have a mail room). Anywho, while I can give them some credit, it's annoying nonetheless.
And then, of course, there's the doctor's office. I rush over there (I would have actually been on time since Mrs. Sayers let me out 2 minutes early, but I got stuck behind a motionless school bus for 5 minutes and therefore didn't make the cut), and make it 3 minutes late. Then, the waiting starts. It really wasn't that bad, only about 45 minutes and I did have a book, but it is rather strange. Hurrying up to wait happens all the time. One would think there would be a more efficient system, somehow, so that you could actually arrive at a time where you'd be able to actually do whatever you needed to do as soon as you got there. What's that system? I don't know. If I was a tad more alert and wasn't just wasting time before jumping into homework and studying, I might have more profound insight. Instead, you're stuck with "Clean your elbows when you can, because believe me, from years of experience, no one will just do it for you." There.
One other note of minorly insignificant interest is that a genetic disease might be in my future. Apparently I have two or three symptoms of "Marfan's Syndrome." Now, there's a very minute chance that I've actually got it. I think most of them can be related to malnutrition-nutrition, but there you are. I've nothing against genetic diseases as long as they don't hinder my everyday life. However, some nifty power like superspeed, telepathic powers, or even amazing yo-yo skillz would be nice. I can't even do the basics like summoning a minor demon or even creating a small ball of dark matter to hurl at anything that looks at me the right way. Sometimes you just feel jipped by life, eh? Ah well, I guess I'll just need to hang around some radiation for awhile. If I'm lucky, I'll get some nifty ability like "Extreme Hair Growth" or "Really Big Shoes." A guy can dream, can't he? Oh, he can't? Since when? That long? Really? Why didn't anyone tell me? Isn't that your job?! What do you mean I didn't ask and I don't pay you?!?! Who have I been writing that paycheck to all these years then? Satan?! I wouldn't pay that hack anything; he's just a bum asking for handouts. We had a deal? What are you talking about? Oh. That. Are you sure mass memory wipes and time distortion costs that much? Well, I guess that makes sense. Hhmmm. Oh well.
Well, I've wasted just about as much time as I can. I know, I know, it'll be hard to stop reading this tripe. I understand. But if it'll make you feel better, I'll include the word "obstreperous" in today's entry for the word of the day. There. I just did it. Happy? I surely hope so. That's it, for now. Until next time...
Wednesday, January 14
Monday, January 12
Matters of Fate
The space-time continuum seems to have a new ally in the form of Fate. Of course, this isn't really news, nor is it that surprising, but it is the cause of some concern. It has been brought to my attention (by sources inside my head that I consider minorly trustworthy), that sometimes life seems to takes disturbing patterns. If one looks, it is possible to draw connections that almost seem to surpass coincidence. Perhaps they point to one concrete problem (or positive choice) the individual seems to perpetuate. Or perhaps it is indeed the working of some higher power.
Recently I've noticed one such pattern myself. Now, this creates numorous problems right there. One such problem is the one I discussed a few months ago about the semi-worthlessness of symbolism. If you look hard enough, you can find a connection or deeper meaning in just about anything. In that case it was a tootsie roll and its wrapper symbolizing society and it's burden (yet blessing) upon the individual. The symbolism gets to the point that it actually seems feasible, and perhaps it is. But it could also be just another "Modest Proposal" for eating babies. Who am I to say?
However when one notices an almost clear and distinct representation of Fate, you're left with three options. One is to coast along with it, for good or bad, better or worse. Another is to take the flow of fate and twist it, like diverting the flow of a roaring river, into the void of uncertainty that is unilateral action. The jolt would be like a solidly rhyming poem with the final line not fitting(for those of us rhymically...um...associated) or more of a cataclismic motion, such as forcing a puzzle piece into a place it doesn't fit (oh yes, it can be done!) Of course, it can be argued that the switch too was just a continuance of fate, but by breaking the observed pattern, I think you've taken it into your own hands. And then there's the rational third choice that states the whole thing is just a connection made by the mind that has no real siginificance in life and therefore should be ignored. Or there's combinations of all three.
Of course, your choice would also be siginificantly affected by whether you see this pattern as a positive or negative one. On the one hand, if it's positive you'd want to keep it since it's beneficial; but then you're conforming to Fate. If it's negative, you'd want to change it since it's obviously causing you discomfort; but then you're faced with the unknown and possibility of making matters even worse. And then there's the possibility of it all being a lot of hogwash, but that's no fun is it?
But that basically sums up the situation. Out of curiosity, if you saw a pattern of Fate emerging, would you break it for the sake of breaking it? Or would you go along with what must be your destiny? Or is the fool who came up with this rubbish merely imagining a connection and placing a meaning to it that is ludicrous? Do you follow, lead, or ignore (must like you'll probably ignore post). I'm not quite sure myself. What do you think? (At the moment the comments are down; just wait awhile and they should return.)
Oh the boys at the time-space continuum are going to be angry at me for this! Serves the jerks right though. That'll teach them to limit my methods of warping reality! *maniacal laugh* Until next time...
Recently I've noticed one such pattern myself. Now, this creates numorous problems right there. One such problem is the one I discussed a few months ago about the semi-worthlessness of symbolism. If you look hard enough, you can find a connection or deeper meaning in just about anything. In that case it was a tootsie roll and its wrapper symbolizing society and it's burden (yet blessing) upon the individual. The symbolism gets to the point that it actually seems feasible, and perhaps it is. But it could also be just another "Modest Proposal" for eating babies. Who am I to say?
However when one notices an almost clear and distinct representation of Fate, you're left with three options. One is to coast along with it, for good or bad, better or worse. Another is to take the flow of fate and twist it, like diverting the flow of a roaring river, into the void of uncertainty that is unilateral action. The jolt would be like a solidly rhyming poem with the final line not fitting(for those of us rhymically...um...associated) or more of a cataclismic motion, such as forcing a puzzle piece into a place it doesn't fit (oh yes, it can be done!) Of course, it can be argued that the switch too was just a continuance of fate, but by breaking the observed pattern, I think you've taken it into your own hands. And then there's the rational third choice that states the whole thing is just a connection made by the mind that has no real siginificance in life and therefore should be ignored. Or there's combinations of all three.
Of course, your choice would also be siginificantly affected by whether you see this pattern as a positive or negative one. On the one hand, if it's positive you'd want to keep it since it's beneficial; but then you're conforming to Fate. If it's negative, you'd want to change it since it's obviously causing you discomfort; but then you're faced with the unknown and possibility of making matters even worse. And then there's the possibility of it all being a lot of hogwash, but that's no fun is it?
But that basically sums up the situation. Out of curiosity, if you saw a pattern of Fate emerging, would you break it for the sake of breaking it? Or would you go along with what must be your destiny? Or is the fool who came up with this rubbish merely imagining a connection and placing a meaning to it that is ludicrous? Do you follow, lead, or ignore (must like you'll probably ignore post). I'm not quite sure myself. What do you think? (At the moment the comments are down; just wait awhile and they should return.)
Oh the boys at the time-space continuum are going to be angry at me for this! Serves the jerks right though. That'll teach them to limit my methods of warping reality! *maniacal laugh* Until next time...
Sunday, January 11
Riddle 9
Feared by those who have to know all,
Whether you have it is often your call.
It consists of nothing, yet all of the same,
It creates so much trouble and takes all the blame.
It can also be comforting, it changes the scene,
It warps deformities into objects less mean.
It shields us from the Truth, something both good and bad,
It dulls all of reality, even if just a tad.
It shall catch you eventually, you just can’t elude,
You should just accept it, take a good attitude.
Don’t be afraid of all you don’t know
(Including this riddle, so answer, let’s go!)
*Gasp!* What's this? Why it's another riddle! I thought those were extinct! Well I'll be... Yes, it is indeed, after almost a month long hiatus, another riddle. Hopefully more of you will get it than the last one, but remember, I won't accept your answers until you've answered all the other ones. Now, you could skip all the ones up to this point and just not worry about them, but once I count this answer, I won't count any of the massive backload a few of you have.
I won't bother posting the scores, just add 4points to Derek's for #8 and possibly 2 to Caitlin's, if no one else even tries. The wonderful colors you see are coutresy of Elizabeth E., who is the winner for amount of posts since last time I counted. If you don't like the colors, post more. If you do, then I hope you can bask in their celestial radiance and find true inner peace and happiness. No really, I do. It's true!!!
Anyway, that's all for the moment. I'll probably be going on a board game binge sometime soon, so don't be surprised if I ask a few of you to participate(online). Or better yet, ask me(online, real life, or that creepy third dimension with the constant wailing and the yellow clouded-wallpaper that just won't stop moving!)! Until next time, Answer them riddles!
Whether you have it is often your call.
It consists of nothing, yet all of the same,
It creates so much trouble and takes all the blame.
It can also be comforting, it changes the scene,
It warps deformities into objects less mean.
It shields us from the Truth, something both good and bad,
It dulls all of reality, even if just a tad.
It shall catch you eventually, you just can’t elude,
You should just accept it, take a good attitude.
Don’t be afraid of all you don’t know
(Including this riddle, so answer, let’s go!)
*Gasp!* What's this? Why it's another riddle! I thought those were extinct! Well I'll be... Yes, it is indeed, after almost a month long hiatus, another riddle. Hopefully more of you will get it than the last one, but remember, I won't accept your answers until you've answered all the other ones. Now, you could skip all the ones up to this point and just not worry about them, but once I count this answer, I won't count any of the massive backload a few of you have.
I won't bother posting the scores, just add 4points to Derek's for #8 and possibly 2 to Caitlin's, if no one else even tries. The wonderful colors you see are coutresy of Elizabeth E., who is the winner for amount of posts since last time I counted. If you don't like the colors, post more. If you do, then I hope you can bask in their celestial radiance and find true inner peace and happiness. No really, I do. It's true!!!
Anyway, that's all for the moment. I'll probably be going on a board game binge sometime soon, so don't be surprised if I ask a few of you to participate(online). Or better yet, ask me(online, real life, or that creepy third dimension with the constant wailing and the yellow clouded-wallpaper that just won't stop moving!)! Until next time, Answer them riddles!
The Not so Wild West
Well, today was a different beast than yesterday (although I suppose it's technically yesterday now and the yesterday I'm referring to in the sentence is two days ago, if you're into that chronological correctness thing). Friday, I sat at the computer all day. So today (again, technically yesterday, but it shall henceforth be known as today as the time is just past midnight and periods of wakefulness are more accurate and mentally pleasing than conforming to "The Man's" view of when a day should end and begin!)...ANYWAY, today I thought to myself "Self, this sort of attitude and sedentary lifestyle is not going to in any way help you take over the world! You see, by using the computer I'm placing the burden of entertainment partially on myself. Thus, I feel pressured to find something for me to do. However, there is something very near and dear to your chewed up brain that can make entertainment a matter of merely finding the right buttons to press. No, it's not your computer. Similiar, but less buttons and less often." And By George was I right!
So today I moved the 5seconds from the computer and returned to my room where I watched that master of cinematic repetitive and predicatablecalititude (if it's not a word, we both know it should be!) the Western! Yes, the Western is indeed a strange little thing. Every different version usually has roughly the same storyline, begins, middles, and ends the same way, and often has the same people. Now, it can of course be argued that this is an affliction of praticularly every generality of art, from fantasy to science fiction to romance to, well, anything. When you get down to the bare essentials, most anything follows the same pattern. But that point aside, it was actually rather refreshing! It's almost comforting, that you know good shall triumph over evil, even if it is all fake and mumbo jumbo.
So I watched two Westerns which I personally found entertaining and enjoyable. I followed this by 2hours of Sanford and Son I'd had recorded from awhile ago. But that's not the worst part! So I get to thinking "Gee Dylan, you've got all this time on your hands, why not do your Chemistry homework you were supposed to have done Thursday night!" So I did indeed stop procrastinating and finish something AHEAD of schedule. Now, I'm as shocked as you are, but it still gets worse! So I start my Chemistry and come upon on a shocking revelation. This isn't Chemistry, it's Algebra in disguise! And since I actually find Algebra enjoyable, I enjoyed doing some Chemistry! Now, trust me, this is a pretty big accomplishment. Chemistry is often the lowest of lows one can go in the grand scope of homework, rivaled only by the research paper and perhaps forced artistic projects. Surely I jest, but you get the point nonetheless.
Now, all of this may seem trivially insiginificant to you, but really, it's quite uplifting! I suppose it's because on Saturdays, a downward decent into Television doesn't seem as much like the crippling apathy vortexes that occur on school nights. I think it's because the Saturday version is more of a "Time to relax and let all my pointless burdens slip away. Oh look, a cartoon bunny! Lets all titter madly!" And titter we did. All the way to the bank.
And on that note, I suppose I must bid you adieu. Or perhaps I'll bid you $5. DoIhear6dolladolladolla7!CanIgeta8dolladolla9from the gentelman in the back with the paddle that looks remarkebly like an armed javelin launcher! Anywho, Goodnight, Goodmorning, or GoodWhatevertimeofdayoryesterdayortomorrowthatyou'rereadingthis. Until next time....
So today I moved the 5seconds from the computer and returned to my room where I watched that master of cinematic repetitive and predicatablecalititude (if it's not a word, we both know it should be!) the Western! Yes, the Western is indeed a strange little thing. Every different version usually has roughly the same storyline, begins, middles, and ends the same way, and often has the same people. Now, it can of course be argued that this is an affliction of praticularly every generality of art, from fantasy to science fiction to romance to, well, anything. When you get down to the bare essentials, most anything follows the same pattern. But that point aside, it was actually rather refreshing! It's almost comforting, that you know good shall triumph over evil, even if it is all fake and mumbo jumbo.
So I watched two Westerns which I personally found entertaining and enjoyable. I followed this by 2hours of Sanford and Son I'd had recorded from awhile ago. But that's not the worst part! So I get to thinking "Gee Dylan, you've got all this time on your hands, why not do your Chemistry homework you were supposed to have done Thursday night!" So I did indeed stop procrastinating and finish something AHEAD of schedule. Now, I'm as shocked as you are, but it still gets worse! So I start my Chemistry and come upon on a shocking revelation. This isn't Chemistry, it's Algebra in disguise! And since I actually find Algebra enjoyable, I enjoyed doing some Chemistry! Now, trust me, this is a pretty big accomplishment. Chemistry is often the lowest of lows one can go in the grand scope of homework, rivaled only by the research paper and perhaps forced artistic projects. Surely I jest, but you get the point nonetheless.
Now, all of this may seem trivially insiginificant to you, but really, it's quite uplifting! I suppose it's because on Saturdays, a downward decent into Television doesn't seem as much like the crippling apathy vortexes that occur on school nights. I think it's because the Saturday version is more of a "Time to relax and let all my pointless burdens slip away. Oh look, a cartoon bunny! Lets all titter madly!" And titter we did. All the way to the bank.
And on that note, I suppose I must bid you adieu. Or perhaps I'll bid you $5. DoIhear6dolladolladolla7!CanIgeta8dolladolla9from the gentelman in the back with the paddle that looks remarkebly like an armed javelin launcher! Anywho, Goodnight, Goodmorning, or GoodWhatevertimeofdayoryesterdayortomorrowthatyou'rereadingthis. Until next time....
Friday, January 9
Woe Days
Well, for the first time in recent memory, the weather people predicted snow and it actually came true! Who would have thought that one of these days, a 50% chance of snow might actually produce...SNOW!!! It blows the mind. It's not supposed to snow in the K-town hood. Especially not on 50% chances. But it did, so I, like so many others, stayed at home and basked in the glory that is wasted time.
As a result of poor planning, I ended up doing homework until 1AM last night, and even then I wasn't close to being finished. So, of course, I rationed out my time and went to bed. Then I woke up at 7 to find that, like a powedery cloud, a wave of glorious white stuff had fallen over our fair city. Was I ecstatic? No. Was I glad? No. Was I thrilled to the point of almost spontaneous combustion of the sheer joy of being able to avoid the toil and grind that is our grand public education system? No. No, I merely lay in bed, wondering if there was any reason for me to get out. After an hour or two, I finally got motivated enough to move the small space from my bed to the computer where I have remained to this very point.
Yes, oh cruel cruel irony. The very substance that gives me a day of blessed freedom only serves to block me from escape. Of course, I say that. Really, I wouldn't do anything at all differently if school was called off because wild packs of ferrets had been unleashed upon the surrounding countryside by corrupt businessmen, bent on intimidating the working class into a constant of fear in a desperate attempt to stop the imminent Communist Revolution that will sputter and die in a matter of minutes, but will, in the process, give the CEO a gnarly headache, thus resulting a bad day for everyone and possibly a few public stonings. No, the sad truth is I'm the victim of that oh so popular disease I like to call "Apacrastinothingtodoitis."
In other words, I've got nothing to do anyway. Oh sure, I could do my homework, read a book (or fourty-six), save the world from an invisible virus known only to me and Christopher Reeves (who just so happens to have forgotten the entire incident; believe me, I called), or even go outside and wander aimlessly, starting a gang of wayward youths such as myself, and sending them on a war of epic proportions where the stakes are higher than life and the price of failure is so horrible, I scream in agony even thinking of the first syllable of the sentence meant to describe it! But no. Instead, I sit at the computer, desperately searching for some incentive to do something even remotely productive.
And here we come to the moral of the story. Don't philosophize or try to figure your life out. Really, it sounds like a good idea, and English class makes it seem like such a noble pursuit, but really, it's only a drag. When you figure out what you need to do, how you should get there, how incredibly easy it all is, and the reasons you won't do it, you're really left with nothing at all to do. Sure, you could twiddle your thumbs for the 10 hours a day you're not sleeping, but in the end, it all comes out the same. So what should you do instead? Might I suggest spades, or if the mood suits you, some other board, card, or physical activity that will engage the mind, body, and possibly spleen in some sort of contest that means absolutely nothing in the end, but is fun to do in the process.
That's enough of that icky existentalism and savage board game propaganda. Let's branch over into something much more enjoyable: rhyming. Yes, the matching of two similiar syllables in a rhythmic phrase is indeed a jovial past time. It's especially good if you've nothing to do and want to drive everyone you talk to crazy. Try it sometime. Speak only in rhyme. Don't say anything at all unless it's in a solid rhythm and has a rhyme scheme. It's easier on IMs, but even speaking it is entertaining. So then the next question logically becomes "But Dylan, if pie is squared and round at the same time, how on earth am I expected to get to St. Louis in under an hour flying on top of a giant winged-walrus?" To that, I'll merely say "Look to your left. Now walk three paces due east. Jump up and down twice. Now quack like a dog. There, don't you feel better about sanity now?"
The real next question is "But Dylan, where are all the riddles if you like rhyming so much?" Well anonymous, annoying, pestering voice, I'll tell you where. They're nowhere. It's all part of that motivation bit. What I will tell you is that I will get more up eventually. But first, you've got to answer the past ones! So from this point forward, until you've answered all the ones I've done, you can't answer any future ones. "But Dylan, that's giving an unfair advantage to the all-powerful Derek and his ub3r 1337 (That means uber leet, which is turns means grand elite, which is all part of the d00d language, which only those who have ventured into the dark, endless caverns of online gaming know) knowledge of all that is riddle!" Tough luck! The man knows his words, that's all I can say. You all have things to do. Get crackin'! The story's still there too, so stop your belly-achin!
Oh, and one last thing. If, for whatever reason, you decide to go on a grand adventure of society shaking porportions, with your goal of "Success, Bust, or at least a groovy Bumper Sticker", invite me along. I need to rebel somehow. And frankly, throwing snowballs at pigeons just doesn't cut it. Go figure.
As a result of poor planning, I ended up doing homework until 1AM last night, and even then I wasn't close to being finished. So, of course, I rationed out my time and went to bed. Then I woke up at 7 to find that, like a powedery cloud, a wave of glorious white stuff had fallen over our fair city. Was I ecstatic? No. Was I glad? No. Was I thrilled to the point of almost spontaneous combustion of the sheer joy of being able to avoid the toil and grind that is our grand public education system? No. No, I merely lay in bed, wondering if there was any reason for me to get out. After an hour or two, I finally got motivated enough to move the small space from my bed to the computer where I have remained to this very point.
Yes, oh cruel cruel irony. The very substance that gives me a day of blessed freedom only serves to block me from escape. Of course, I say that. Really, I wouldn't do anything at all differently if school was called off because wild packs of ferrets had been unleashed upon the surrounding countryside by corrupt businessmen, bent on intimidating the working class into a constant of fear in a desperate attempt to stop the imminent Communist Revolution that will sputter and die in a matter of minutes, but will, in the process, give the CEO a gnarly headache, thus resulting a bad day for everyone and possibly a few public stonings. No, the sad truth is I'm the victim of that oh so popular disease I like to call "Apacrastinothingtodoitis."
In other words, I've got nothing to do anyway. Oh sure, I could do my homework, read a book (or fourty-six), save the world from an invisible virus known only to me and Christopher Reeves (who just so happens to have forgotten the entire incident; believe me, I called), or even go outside and wander aimlessly, starting a gang of wayward youths such as myself, and sending them on a war of epic proportions where the stakes are higher than life and the price of failure is so horrible, I scream in agony even thinking of the first syllable of the sentence meant to describe it! But no. Instead, I sit at the computer, desperately searching for some incentive to do something even remotely productive.
And here we come to the moral of the story. Don't philosophize or try to figure your life out. Really, it sounds like a good idea, and English class makes it seem like such a noble pursuit, but really, it's only a drag. When you figure out what you need to do, how you should get there, how incredibly easy it all is, and the reasons you won't do it, you're really left with nothing at all to do. Sure, you could twiddle your thumbs for the 10 hours a day you're not sleeping, but in the end, it all comes out the same. So what should you do instead? Might I suggest spades, or if the mood suits you, some other board, card, or physical activity that will engage the mind, body, and possibly spleen in some sort of contest that means absolutely nothing in the end, but is fun to do in the process.
That's enough of that icky existentalism and savage board game propaganda. Let's branch over into something much more enjoyable: rhyming. Yes, the matching of two similiar syllables in a rhythmic phrase is indeed a jovial past time. It's especially good if you've nothing to do and want to drive everyone you talk to crazy. Try it sometime. Speak only in rhyme. Don't say anything at all unless it's in a solid rhythm and has a rhyme scheme. It's easier on IMs, but even speaking it is entertaining. So then the next question logically becomes "But Dylan, if pie is squared and round at the same time, how on earth am I expected to get to St. Louis in under an hour flying on top of a giant winged-walrus?" To that, I'll merely say "Look to your left. Now walk three paces due east. Jump up and down twice. Now quack like a dog. There, don't you feel better about sanity now?"
The real next question is "But Dylan, where are all the riddles if you like rhyming so much?" Well anonymous, annoying, pestering voice, I'll tell you where. They're nowhere. It's all part of that motivation bit. What I will tell you is that I will get more up eventually. But first, you've got to answer the past ones! So from this point forward, until you've answered all the ones I've done, you can't answer any future ones. "But Dylan, that's giving an unfair advantage to the all-powerful Derek and his ub3r 1337 (That means uber leet, which is turns means grand elite, which is all part of the d00d language, which only those who have ventured into the dark, endless caverns of online gaming know) knowledge of all that is riddle!" Tough luck! The man knows his words, that's all I can say. You all have things to do. Get crackin'! The story's still there too, so stop your belly-achin!
Oh, and one last thing. If, for whatever reason, you decide to go on a grand adventure of society shaking porportions, with your goal of "Success, Bust, or at least a groovy Bumper Sticker", invite me along. I need to rebel somehow. And frankly, throwing snowballs at pigeons just doesn't cut it. Go figure.
Monday, January 5
Gettin' Back Where I Belong
Well, it has indeed been awhile. So, to fill ye of little info in, I'll write another unnecessarily long, boring, possibly hyperbolated, rambling, possibly rhyming, novel about the past week. I'll write a summary at the end (if I remember) for those who don't want to waste too much time. (It should be noted, however, that if you do skip the reading, you will need to be flogged, lynched, and or run over by a stampede or asparagus craving caterpillars.)
Well, you’ve probably read my infuriatingly tedious and long account of my ice adventure. Logic would say that if I can conquer roads coated with ice and stopping on a hill in a manual car, I can drive most anywhere that’s feasible. Well, logic and fate apparently conspired a bit over this break to trick me and lull me into a false sense of security. How can abstract ideas devise methods of torment for someone like myself who has no reason to care? I don’t know. If you find out and would like to rebel against some of the foundations of human existence, please let me know. I need to get out of the house and have more violent insurrections more often.
Anyway, getting back to a summary of my break… I made it a resolution to get away from this infernal contraption I like to call the “computer.” So I decided I’d get away through any means necessary, even if that meant going outside and finding bored souls in which I could engage in a match of fate and wit. In other words, I played bored/card games. However, the “Powers that Am” decided I was getting too uppity. So on Christmas Eve, as I was on my way home listening to Beethoven’s 5th, I just happened to go down a hill with a slight curve and all of a sudden I lost control and BAM! I ran straight into a tree. I’m still not quite sure what happened, I can only assume that time rippled a bit and as an alternate plane of reality shifted slightly with our own, the road changed a bit, and I had no alternative but to slam into a tree. Or I could have gone slightly off the road on some slick grass and just slipped. Either one is perfectly feasible.
If you’ve never totaled a car or done something of such magnitude that the only feeling you suffer are disbelief and an overall feeling of dread, might I suggest that you take your car and drive off a cliff, jumping out right before it goes over, for no apparent reason. Then explain your rationale and deal with all the subsequent consequences including, but not limited to, incapacitating injuries, public property damage, outstanding warrants for your arrest, the hostages that were in the trunk, rifts in the space-time continuum, forces of unspeakable evil you’ve unleashed and must now destroy or capture again in an apocalyptic struggle the likes of which the earth will never seen again (likely because it will be destroyed in the process), and, of course, finding another car. Of the above, I’ve only had to deal with two, and boy was that apocalyptic struggle fun!
But that’s neither here, there, nor slightly to your left. Suffice it to say, my car was dead. I hit the tree dead on, and my poor Beretta was quite a mess. I’m fairly stoic about most everything, but even I was disappointed about the loss of the “Dyl Mobile”. I’d kind of grown attached to it, with its manual-ness, two doors, and general state of atrophy. But it was beyond repair.
At the time, I felt relatively fine, physically speaking. My knee appeared to have some sort of grease stains (which later turned out to be blood from where it had hit the car when I tried to slam on the breaks), and I had a slight pain in my chest. Mainly a sense of doom and destruction was prevalent, more so than usual at any rate. Someone called the police, who promptly showed up and ran the normal procedure for accidents. They went ahead and called an ambulance, as a matter of standard procedure. My father arrived soon, followed by the ambulance paramedic-ish people who made some jokes at my expense and pronounced me fine, but said it was probably wise to go to the ER.
I made it home, my primary concern my knee which, while not incredibly painful, was to be considered unreliable and therefore it was no longer privy to confidential information and was kept under armed guards at all time. Then we headed over to Children’s, my slightly jarred body in tow. When I arrived and had to put on a hospital gown (an annoying practice, leaving one feeling exposed and just a bit drafty), I was able to survey the damage. My knee was so swollen that when I compared it to the other, I thought “Gee, I wonder why I can only see the bone on one.” (Not the actual bone, but the other was so swollen it was almost perfectly round). I then received the first set of what would be many x-rays and was sent on my oh so merry way home. (Now forgive me as I briefly diverge into a rhyming parody).
Twas the night before Christmas, and I was in bed
I was quite shaken up, my poor car was dead.
My socks had been taken off with great care,
(Of course it had to be that accursed new pair!)
I was ready to sleep, it had been a bad day
I couldn’t wait for dreams to come my way.
But sleep did not come easily, I ran out of breath,
But I attributed it to too much crystal meth.
I awoke the next morning to such a clatter,
Apparently with my x-ray something was the matter!
The radiologist, it seemed, last night did review,
And apparently he’d seen something new.
My lung was in trouble, a bit collapsed if you will,
And this sort of thing you can’t solve with a pill.
So with a groan I arose with no joy,
For Christmas I got a chest tube instead of a toy!
I had no reindeer, not even a sleigh
But still we sped off on that Christmas Day
As my mother drove away, I cried in our wake
”Geez, this is Christmas, can’t I at least catch a break!?”
So we headed to UT where I was put it in another blasted gown and I received a few more x-rays (unfortunately, I didn’t get any mutations; superpowers would have been a great turn around of events). I was feeling fine all the time, wondering what the point of coming to the hospital was when you felt as if you could do a somersault with one hand tied behind your back while riding a raging wombat in a pouring thunderstorm of slightly acidic rain. I may exaggerate a bit, but I still didn’t feel like I should be there.
But I was still instructed to remain in the hospital for at least a day. So we saddled up (or I got pushed on a wheelchair) into the Pediatrics area. Apparently you should aim for the children’s section of the hospital as long as you can. The staff apparently gets a tad surly and irritated in the sections for people above the magical age of 18, so to the puppy dog and kitty cat painted hallways I went. All in all I was rather annoyed at the whole process. I was still feeling fine, with no motivation to remain. Every action the hospital staff took I could assume was padding the bill or useless bureaucracy. It’s rough being a miserly scrooge, believe you me.
Well the problem did not correct itself overnight, so the doctors’ only option was to stick 13 inches of a garden hose sized tube into my chest to suck out the air in the affected area. This device, dubbed a “chest tube” was very uncomfortable. I was limited in virtually everything I could do. Not only that, but I was also forced to seek out painkillers, since having a tube in your chest is apparently a bit more than one’s body can dub normal. I spend the first day and a half with the tube throwing up whatever I ate and being in a general state of misery, as some painkillers have an adverse effect upon my system. Drugs will do that to you, I suppose. I thought morphine was my friend too, go figure… But I finally found one that my system agreed with and I was able to relax into drugged highs that, while I was not out of control or goofy (that I know of), I was at least at peace with the world (which is quite a foreign concept for me).
Thus it was that after 5 days, total, (2 and ½ with the tube) I was released. I’ll spare you the particularly gruesome details. Suffice it to that overall, the entire situation could have been quite a bit worse. My car could have shattered into thousands of pieces in one way or another (which my Dad apparently became quite concerned about after closer inspection of the wreck). I could have hit someone else. The police and hospital staff could have been cruel, heartless, or at the very least tried to steal my lunch money (I was quite surprised and encouraged, in fact; out of all the people I met, besides some needlessly talkative ones and the accursed paramedics, everyone was nice and friendly). I could have felt absolutely tormented and miserable, but other than quite annoyed and the tube in my chest, I felt relatively well.
And I’d also like to give a great big “Thanks!!!!” to everyone who stopped by. Kelly and Rachel actually came every single day, which was quite a change of the dreary and boring pace set in a hospital and I was quite grateful. Thanks also to everyone else, including but not limited to Morgan, Catherine, Amy, Seth, Sara, and Elizabeth for stopping by at least once. Even if I seemed crazy, contrary, spiteful, depressed, or whatever I did appreciate it (as is true whenever I seem the above ways) and enjoyed you guys stopping by and helping me not feel like such a shut in.
So that was the highlight of my break. Of course, I did catch a cold for a fitting end to my long, two-week adventure, but as school returns I'm almost fully recovered from everything and I'm ready to begin another long, hard slog. I made a New Years resolution to get out of the house more and away from this infernal contraption, and by George I certainly want to keep it! Now, all that may entail is walking around aimlessly in not-so-foreign parts of the country or my mind, but anyone’s welcome to join if they so desire. I also want to play even more board games than I do now, so there’s another method to get away. Hopeless dreams or actualities? I think you know the answer, but don’t tell me, I might remember too!
So until next time (which should be sooner than later), enjoy whatever you’re doing and watch out for that Tree!
(As far as riddles are concerned, I should be posting one relatively soon. Derek is the only one who got it right, out of the two people who answered, so you still have something to think on. The new color scheme is for the onset of the semester of DOOM, but I’ll get the posting contest working again too. The story’s still there, don’t let Inco die!)
Well, you’ve probably read my infuriatingly tedious and long account of my ice adventure. Logic would say that if I can conquer roads coated with ice and stopping on a hill in a manual car, I can drive most anywhere that’s feasible. Well, logic and fate apparently conspired a bit over this break to trick me and lull me into a false sense of security. How can abstract ideas devise methods of torment for someone like myself who has no reason to care? I don’t know. If you find out and would like to rebel against some of the foundations of human existence, please let me know. I need to get out of the house and have more violent insurrections more often.
Anyway, getting back to a summary of my break… I made it a resolution to get away from this infernal contraption I like to call the “computer.” So I decided I’d get away through any means necessary, even if that meant going outside and finding bored souls in which I could engage in a match of fate and wit. In other words, I played bored/card games. However, the “Powers that Am” decided I was getting too uppity. So on Christmas Eve, as I was on my way home listening to Beethoven’s 5th, I just happened to go down a hill with a slight curve and all of a sudden I lost control and BAM! I ran straight into a tree. I’m still not quite sure what happened, I can only assume that time rippled a bit and as an alternate plane of reality shifted slightly with our own, the road changed a bit, and I had no alternative but to slam into a tree. Or I could have gone slightly off the road on some slick grass and just slipped. Either one is perfectly feasible.
If you’ve never totaled a car or done something of such magnitude that the only feeling you suffer are disbelief and an overall feeling of dread, might I suggest that you take your car and drive off a cliff, jumping out right before it goes over, for no apparent reason. Then explain your rationale and deal with all the subsequent consequences including, but not limited to, incapacitating injuries, public property damage, outstanding warrants for your arrest, the hostages that were in the trunk, rifts in the space-time continuum, forces of unspeakable evil you’ve unleashed and must now destroy or capture again in an apocalyptic struggle the likes of which the earth will never seen again (likely because it will be destroyed in the process), and, of course, finding another car. Of the above, I’ve only had to deal with two, and boy was that apocalyptic struggle fun!
But that’s neither here, there, nor slightly to your left. Suffice it to say, my car was dead. I hit the tree dead on, and my poor Beretta was quite a mess. I’m fairly stoic about most everything, but even I was disappointed about the loss of the “Dyl Mobile”. I’d kind of grown attached to it, with its manual-ness, two doors, and general state of atrophy. But it was beyond repair.
At the time, I felt relatively fine, physically speaking. My knee appeared to have some sort of grease stains (which later turned out to be blood from where it had hit the car when I tried to slam on the breaks), and I had a slight pain in my chest. Mainly a sense of doom and destruction was prevalent, more so than usual at any rate. Someone called the police, who promptly showed up and ran the normal procedure for accidents. They went ahead and called an ambulance, as a matter of standard procedure. My father arrived soon, followed by the ambulance paramedic-ish people who made some jokes at my expense and pronounced me fine, but said it was probably wise to go to the ER.
I made it home, my primary concern my knee which, while not incredibly painful, was to be considered unreliable and therefore it was no longer privy to confidential information and was kept under armed guards at all time. Then we headed over to Children’s, my slightly jarred body in tow. When I arrived and had to put on a hospital gown (an annoying practice, leaving one feeling exposed and just a bit drafty), I was able to survey the damage. My knee was so swollen that when I compared it to the other, I thought “Gee, I wonder why I can only see the bone on one.” (Not the actual bone, but the other was so swollen it was almost perfectly round). I then received the first set of what would be many x-rays and was sent on my oh so merry way home. (Now forgive me as I briefly diverge into a rhyming parody).
Twas the night before Christmas, and I was in bed
I was quite shaken up, my poor car was dead.
My socks had been taken off with great care,
(Of course it had to be that accursed new pair!)
I was ready to sleep, it had been a bad day
I couldn’t wait for dreams to come my way.
But sleep did not come easily, I ran out of breath,
But I attributed it to too much crystal meth.
I awoke the next morning to such a clatter,
Apparently with my x-ray something was the matter!
The radiologist, it seemed, last night did review,
And apparently he’d seen something new.
My lung was in trouble, a bit collapsed if you will,
And this sort of thing you can’t solve with a pill.
So with a groan I arose with no joy,
For Christmas I got a chest tube instead of a toy!
I had no reindeer, not even a sleigh
But still we sped off on that Christmas Day
As my mother drove away, I cried in our wake
”Geez, this is Christmas, can’t I at least catch a break!?”
So we headed to UT where I was put it in another blasted gown and I received a few more x-rays (unfortunately, I didn’t get any mutations; superpowers would have been a great turn around of events). I was feeling fine all the time, wondering what the point of coming to the hospital was when you felt as if you could do a somersault with one hand tied behind your back while riding a raging wombat in a pouring thunderstorm of slightly acidic rain. I may exaggerate a bit, but I still didn’t feel like I should be there.
But I was still instructed to remain in the hospital for at least a day. So we saddled up (or I got pushed on a wheelchair) into the Pediatrics area. Apparently you should aim for the children’s section of the hospital as long as you can. The staff apparently gets a tad surly and irritated in the sections for people above the magical age of 18, so to the puppy dog and kitty cat painted hallways I went. All in all I was rather annoyed at the whole process. I was still feeling fine, with no motivation to remain. Every action the hospital staff took I could assume was padding the bill or useless bureaucracy. It’s rough being a miserly scrooge, believe you me.
Well the problem did not correct itself overnight, so the doctors’ only option was to stick 13 inches of a garden hose sized tube into my chest to suck out the air in the affected area. This device, dubbed a “chest tube” was very uncomfortable. I was limited in virtually everything I could do. Not only that, but I was also forced to seek out painkillers, since having a tube in your chest is apparently a bit more than one’s body can dub normal. I spend the first day and a half with the tube throwing up whatever I ate and being in a general state of misery, as some painkillers have an adverse effect upon my system. Drugs will do that to you, I suppose. I thought morphine was my friend too, go figure… But I finally found one that my system agreed with and I was able to relax into drugged highs that, while I was not out of control or goofy (that I know of), I was at least at peace with the world (which is quite a foreign concept for me).
Thus it was that after 5 days, total, (2 and ½ with the tube) I was released. I’ll spare you the particularly gruesome details. Suffice it to that overall, the entire situation could have been quite a bit worse. My car could have shattered into thousands of pieces in one way or another (which my Dad apparently became quite concerned about after closer inspection of the wreck). I could have hit someone else. The police and hospital staff could have been cruel, heartless, or at the very least tried to steal my lunch money (I was quite surprised and encouraged, in fact; out of all the people I met, besides some needlessly talkative ones and the accursed paramedics, everyone was nice and friendly). I could have felt absolutely tormented and miserable, but other than quite annoyed and the tube in my chest, I felt relatively well.
And I’d also like to give a great big “Thanks!!!!” to everyone who stopped by. Kelly and Rachel actually came every single day, which was quite a change of the dreary and boring pace set in a hospital and I was quite grateful. Thanks also to everyone else, including but not limited to Morgan, Catherine, Amy, Seth, Sara, and Elizabeth for stopping by at least once. Even if I seemed crazy, contrary, spiteful, depressed, or whatever I did appreciate it (as is true whenever I seem the above ways) and enjoyed you guys stopping by and helping me not feel like such a shut in.
So that was the highlight of my break. Of course, I did catch a cold for a fitting end to my long, two-week adventure, but as school returns I'm almost fully recovered from everything and I'm ready to begin another long, hard slog. I made a New Years resolution to get out of the house more and away from this infernal contraption, and by George I certainly want to keep it! Now, all that may entail is walking around aimlessly in not-so-foreign parts of the country or my mind, but anyone’s welcome to join if they so desire. I also want to play even more board games than I do now, so there’s another method to get away. Hopeless dreams or actualities? I think you know the answer, but don’t tell me, I might remember too!
So until next time (which should be sooner than later), enjoy whatever you’re doing and watch out for that Tree!
(As far as riddles are concerned, I should be posting one relatively soon. Derek is the only one who got it right, out of the two people who answered, so you still have something to think on. The new color scheme is for the onset of the semester of DOOM, but I’ll get the posting contest working again too. The story’s still there, don’t let Inco die!)
Thursday, January 1
Another Year, Another Number
Well, Happy New Years. I thought I'd better make a post so that you would know that I am, in fact, not dead. I'll be writing up the story of my entire holiday "adventure" soon, but it shall be quite an endeavor, so it may be awhile. Until then, be safe, be happy, and avoid any hobos with tuberculosis who just want you to make sure they don't have any broccoli in their teeth.