College Dreams

It had to arrive today. John and Amy had got “yes” yesterday and Mike, to no one's surprise, got the #10 size business envelope containing the brief rejection letter. I could hardly sit through my last class of the day – when the bell rang, I was the first person to reach their car.

Yes, we can make a corsage for your prom date.

I woke up at just after five in the morning. Showered, put on some makeup, threw on some clothes that were mostly clean, and grabbed a couple slices of whole-grain bread as I rushed out the door, certain to be late. Again. I ate the bread as I unlocked my bike, using the familiar juggle - key in hand, bread in hand, lock in hand, bread in mouth, key in mouth, lock on bike, key in pocket.

In regard to your concerns...

Gravity is a bitch.

Seriously, to be completely frank, it is tough to count just how many times gravity has fucked me over personally, and that's not to count how many times it's fucked me over professionally. But we have to make due, and continue on our paths as best we can.

Pap.

Pap.

Not “Pappy”, not “Paps” - Pap.

Directions

Depending on who you talk to, you either add the mild or the ice cream first. On the pros of “milk first”, you have a better notion of how much milk you've added to the mix. In ice cream's defense, pouring milk in second reduces the amount of splash that you encounter. In either case, you add any other ingredients third, in no particular order.

Blend, mix, stir, whatever, and you've got yourself a milkshake.

Good job.

Shattered Glass

This summer hadn't gone smoothly. Federal budget cuts turned into state budget cuts, which turned into local budget cuts. These cuts in the public sector meant massive layoffs in the public sector, which meant the neither the governments nor the employees could buy from the private sector, which meant budget cuts and layoffs there, too. Profits are at an all time high, mind you, just fewer people are still benefiting from these profits. Some people were pissed about this, and that's where I come in – I make my money by protecting those profits.

Less than a Mile from Safety

Ice clung to my beard, turning my face into a glassy portrait. I only needed to travel one more mile to the base camp – warmth- but this wasn't exactly a Sunday stroll around the local park.

Hot Coffee

He made me hot.

Oh, God. The heat flowed through my veins. I couldn't help but huff; my breath became ragged and loud as he... Pressed all the right buttons and turned all the right knobs.

I screamed.

I screamed at my climax, and I knew everyone around could hear.

I screamed as I squirted.

I screamed.

The excitement soon ended. The customer had his espresso; the barista turned me off.

Until next time.

Absorbed

“No joke! I'm obsessed.”

“Ha! I believe it – if you're not texting, you're tweeting.”

“Yeah, I guess I'm pretty bad – one sec.”

She checked her phone.

Fuck Hope

--or--

Why the Greeks were right and hope is the worst thing ever.

Of all the emotions I am subject to, it is hope which vexes me the most. Unfortunately for both my peace of mind and my ability to go to sleep at night, I can not control my hope as I can other emotions.

Hope sucks.

On Passion

I am a fairly dispassionate person. While I don't know if I would recommend this state of being, it does help when confronted with emergencies and dilemmas.

It does not help, however, when interacting with others.

It seems that other people expect you to be aghast when they tell you that some celebrity or distant relative has died. While I certainly understand the pain a person feels, it seems that expecting me to feel the same pain is unproductive, at best.

Listenings, 4-13

I do enjoy listening to people. Here's an hour of my life:

G's seventy. Loves baseball. Knows more about it than anyone else in here, except maybe MK (according to him). He's not a huge fan of the Phillies though, which was surprising. He likely comes in every Saturday and gets the same sandwich: a cheesesteak with horseradish on the side. He's pretty happy it's a nice day out, if only because the next bar on his route won't be so smokey (they'll have the doors open). He's friends with everyone there and bought D a drink. He said that he'd have to try the hot turkey sandwich I was eating, but I suspect he'll never get around to it. I'm not sure if he was legitimately curious or was 'repping' the bar when he asked whether or not the potatoes were "real" or not (they were).

Cyclin'

Speedin' Zippin' Zoomin'.
Pushin' pedals, two wheels movin'.
Flyin' by, bein' green, feelin' fly, gettin' lean.
Cyclin'

Sex

I don't care about sex.
I don't care about those carnal pleasures.
All I want is someone to hug when I come home.
Someone to kiss.
Someone to cook for.
Someone to love.
Hopefully they love me too.
Sex would definitely be a bonus though...

Oranges

The oranges bounced aimlessly, scattering to the corners of the ill-lit room in which Oliver now found himself on the floor. He grimaced as he disentangled himself from the splintered remains of the now empty crate he had been carrying just moments before.

“Another ‘minor setback,’” Oliver growled to no one in particular.

Mantras

Possible Mantras:

• An adult is one who has control of their appetites.
• That which is outside the self is outside control.
• Having control of one’s self is to be one’s own person; control else-wise is an illusion.
• Keep that which you cannot control external from your self. Know that what is controlled may be changed.
• Control the self, accept the world.

Rediscovery?

I totally forgot I had this blog. I've cleaned a few things up, and will try to keep it updated for the time being.