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Fun With School Policy [11 22 03|12:04am]
[ mood | optimistic ]

Here's my first article published for the Plank, which got handed out today. I've positive responses along with Mr. Hornback's comment that I seem a little bitter and a "bit sarcastic" (THAT'S not a understatement). I'm open to criticism too, as this turned into uncharted territory when it suddenly became much more opinion-oriented than I originally intended. Turned out I was actually ticked off about some of this stuff. But without further interruption, here's Fun With School Policy.

Before I really get started here, I should probably point out that there a plenty of reasonable, effective policies at Jesuit High School, both old and new. They just aren’t any good to make fun of. For example, giving three days of detention for every class missed on a suspension. How dare a student not come to school on a day he would be forcibly removed from the campus? He should have the dedication to sneak in and get called for roll. I think we could do more with policies like this, though. Like all these kids getting twelve, fifteen day sentences of JUG. They’re obviously doing something wrong. Let’s suspend ‘em.

There are also some amazing things that get done around campus. For one thing, I have no idea how someone managed to create an appointment system that made getting pictures at Homecoming take longer than it used to, but they did. That must have taken a lot of effort, and isn’t that what counts?

No, it isn’t. Just like always, there are plenty of changes which are working fine and others that aren’t. There’s not a whole lot the school can do to pick out the ones that don’t work without some proper feedback. And as well as complaining with our friends about the changes we don’t like works to change the pace from whining about teachers, it really isn’t going to get us anywhere. In a way, it’s my civic duty to be a Negative Nancy on a greater scale and get things moving. I should be getting service hours for this. But I’m not. I get my service hours letting kindergartners beat me at tic-tac-toe. Life is tough.

You know what else is tough? Trying to have fun at a dance when two teachers are standing about ten feet high in the middle of the dance floor behind me on the “Box of Justice” (working title). It’s a little awkward, and I don’t buy the argument that it’s only strange because I’m dancing in some perverted way. I don’t think people would dance just to be inappropriate. What would they call it? “Strange” dancing? “Crazy” dancing? “Freak” dancing? I don’t buy it. You have two teachers standing ten feet tall leering over me while I’m eating a sandwich, and I guarantee you, it’d be pretty awkward.

Of course, I’d be eating that sandwich with the crust towards me, not with it facing away like some sicko. Now, if you’re thinking eating a sandwich is the same either way, you obviously aren’t out on the front lines with your flashlight every dance. And if I get anything out of this article other than people who think they’re funny calling me Negative Nancy, I want it to be an official answer to this question, because obviously none of us are seeing the big difference: Why is front-to-front dancing just fine and dandy and front-to-back dancing completely unacceptable? They’re pretty much equally bad or equally good, depending on whether you’re a student or work in the flashlight and beige box industries. The school could say, “Neither are now acceptable, and this will now be enforced thanks to junior Negative Nancy,” but then again we’ll be able to think of somewhere fun besides a dance to go out on a Saturday night in Sacramento that isn’t the movies. It’ll take us a few hours of driving around aimlessly, but we’ll get something together.

Look, Catholic school students could make line dancing look dirty, and the difference between your standard issue hoedown dance and line freaking would be pretty obvious. So how about we forget about the platform, tone down the flashlight, and stop taking the card from the guy shaking back and forth five feet away from the back of his date and at least be fair about annoying everyone. The changes could at least stand to be a little more gradual, considering that two years ago the school used to throw a few hundred people in the Little Theater and essentially look the other way for three hours, hoping nobody got too rowdy.

Speaking of Rowdy, we can’t forget the furry, crime-fighting face of our fun new anti-drug policies. They’re a nice extension of the idea that no matter how much something invades our privacy, we shouldn’t care because its for our own good and we have nothing to hide. If we’re going to go with that, we might as well just keep running with it and put cameras everywhere on campus or maybe assign faculty to occasionally follow us around on the weekends. It’d be for our own good, and besides, we shouldn’t have anything to hide.

We could give all that a shot, but I think Rowdy is setting a bad example. He gets to run around out in the parking lot during the day and outside during class looking for a fix when we’re all banned from the parking lot during the day, and we’re not supposed to be able to leave class to go the bathroom (if we can’t stop the drug users, we’ll seriously inconvenience their day planning) and if any of us were that dependent on “party smell” to get through the day, we’d probably be in rehab right now. Anyone who’s been fine with giving up their bathroom privileges for a solution to the drug problem is probably going to be a little less enthusiastic when that solution is going to the bathroom on the Senior Lawn during class.

Everyone who was pushing QSP so much a few weeks ago must be really busy trying to find places to store all those leftover blimps, because nobody seems to have thought through the fact that we might actually need to use all the JUG passes they threw around. Procedural JUG, hmm, let’s see, that sounds like it’s for all the nitpicky things the office gives JUG for and teachers used to threaten to give it for but usually never did. And when we did get it? We could just pass it. Sounds like procedural JUG would work just fine for everybody if we could pass on those detentions too. Well, we can’t, and I haven’t quite figured that one out yet either. And now that Procedural is for all the small stuff, a teacher would have to be pretty ticked to give out some old school JUG. Probably ticked off enough to write “No Pass” on it and get some satisfaction out of the whole deal. JUG passes don't even work until the last day of an extended sentence. That's not exactly helping out those of us getting JUG for getting suspended for getting too much JUG. Then, in academic, we can’t, never have been, and never will be able to use our passes. So whether we’re forgetting notes for the office, being jackasses or not doing our homework, all our JUG passes are going nowhere fast. If this keeps up, why even give passes out? Nobody’s going to care anymore. Good thing the school has the whole blimp thing to fall back on.

Maybe you don’t think the issues here are the important ones. Maybe you have your own serious issues to deal with. That’s fine. Have your own fun with school policy and decide what needs to be changed yourself. Take it to student council. Talk to an administrator. Have your parents write an anonymous letter to Father McGarry. Get something done instead of just complaining about it. The administration could use the input, and between picking up trash at lunch, waiting in picture lines, taking breaks from figuring out that perfect magazine selling plan to get a blimp next year, we have the time to think up solutions.

7 rebels|stick it to the man

Extra! Extra! Read All About Him! [11 20 03|12:49am]
[ mood | inspired ]

In the high school education system, there are teachers, who get paid to babysit and administer book tests, and important people, who contribute in some form and carry some name recognition. This is not their story.

A Day In the Life of An Extra
Weds. Nov 19th, 2003

Today I got up too late for me to take a shower, which is okay, because no one important ever really looks at me anyway. I went downstairs wherever I live, and had a bowl of generic brand cereal while I read the newspaper and looked around to get some ideas for interests I can say I have in case we do icebreakers at the beginning of school next year, since it's the only real time I get to talk. Basketball and TV are neck and neck. I left for school in whatever car it is I always get dropped off with.

Once I got a school I, as usual, politely and softly asked the people in front of my locker to move so I could get to it, even though I don't really need to keep anything in there since I only have hollow, prop books and binders filled with blank paper. The idea is to make myself noticed to the point that important people realize someone is there, but not so much they ever recognize me personally.

Theology and history were pretty boring. I went above and beyond my main duty of showing up and sitting in my desk and answered a question incorrectly in each class so the teacher would call on someone important for the right one. At break, I sat with my assigned group like everyday. Usually we just sit around quietly until someone important walks along, and then we make gestures and motions to each other that make it look like we're talking. One time I had to ad-lib a conversation about driving in cars and listening to music and whatever else real people do because Ted Nave got really close to me at break to ask me if I knew anyone who was in a class he needed to copy homework for, even though I've sat in front of him in that class for months. I'm good at what I do.

Later today, I did a good job in math saying "Here," at a volume level low enough that no one really noticed but high enough that the teacher didn't have to say my name twice and give it unnecessary exposure. Then I spent the period pretending to take notes with my pen that doesn't even write. No use wasting all that good blank paper.

At lunch I walked around in my usual pattern with my group to give the school an appearance of busyness, laughing as important people walk by to lighten things up for them. Today we walked to the snack machines, and tomorrow I get to stand in the SLC lunch line. If I'm good, I might even get the job where I just walk around school wearing headphones that are jacked into an empty CD player that doesn't even have batteries.

Paul Oliver said "Hi" to me in English. I'm going to make sure to avoid contact with him, as I might be removed and replaced with a less noticable extra if this continues.

All in all it was a good day. This weekend should be alright. I got commisioned for the St. Francis homecoming. Hopefully I get paired with a cute extra and we can go sit in the movies and walk around the mall together. Then, over Thanksgiving break, I get to disappear into oblivion, which should let me get some extra rest.

I'm so glad Jesuit High School gives me this opportunity to fill their roll sheets and get a top of the line education. I'm going to be able to go to college, get a career, and take up space in hallways and public places to the best of my ability. Then, I'll get to go to all the high school reunions, where I'll get to remember my heyday and shake hands with people who will pretend to remember me.

5 rebels|stick it to the man

Fun With Homecoming [11 04 03|10:10pm]
[ mood | working ]

While I stall on writing "Fun With School Policy" for the next edition of the school newspaper, The Plank (or "Plankie", but never "The Plankie") here's something I wrote a month ago for the last one that got held up with the mystifying "box" system teachers haven't yet quite mastered and was too late to get published. But it's still pretty much in season, so here goes. Can always squeeze this one in next year, anyway.

Been aching to get another heaping serving of flashlight? Was the 345th playing of the Cha Cha Slide still not enough? Did you miss your shot at being breathalyzed? Did you get your second warning, nail the double crisscross, get tested and still want more? Well, there’s hope.

Maybe everyone used to just have to be happy with relaxed, open dances, but somewhere, someone decided to step it up a notch. Someone who either decided things were too simple as they were, or just wanted wallets to have more pictures and less money. I mean, homecoming makes things more complex wherever you go. To go to open dances, you have to put on pants. I know, brutal. To go to homecoming, they have to be nice pants. It just keeps going from there.

And don’t get started on how much more thinking goes into it. Actually, too bad, I’m already going. An open dance is coming up on a weekend? Great. I need to find/earn/steal five dollars for a ticket and find some pants. Done deal. Homecoming’s in a month? I need to think up some possibilities, get out some phone numbers, and make a few calls, for starters. Oh, and thanks to whoever raised the bar for everyone else on asking the girl. I have to make a sign now? Get balloons? Streamers? It’s like I’m setting up a birthday party for a five year old and I don’t even get cake or GI Joe party favors out of it. And, honestly, I don’t really see the point. Maybe it’s a nice thing to do, but what if she can’t go? I could make another phone call, but there’s no way I’m truckin’ out to another house with a new sign and some more balloons. Not even for GI Joes.

And to those of you who’ve ever asked your date like this:

CluelessGuy59: Hey, wats up?
GirlUsingYouForDate123: not much u?
CluelessGuy59: nm. like ur buddy icon
CluelessGuy59: u wanna go 2 homecoming?

You’re an idiot, but thanks for making those of us who use the phone look that much better.

Personally, I’m hoping the sweet and sincere angle hits the backburner and girls want guys to sweep them off their feet. Then I can get out my borrowed copies of the Loretto yearbook and phone directory, get a date, and pick up a dress on the way to dinner.

Oh, yeah, dinner. Let’s get guys who survive off school pizza to pick out a place the girls will like. I really don’t feel like getting into the details, like making reservations or not getting forcibly removed from the restaurant, but here’s some quick advice: Take your date to Burger King and complain about how double cheeseburgers got taken off the value menu. Let the guys going to Steve’s look classy for a change and prove for once that dinner can still be elegant when it’s being eaten across from a team of ten-year old soccer players.

Alright, so get your dinner, and after a heartfelt moment shared from the scenic third story of the Playland, you hit the dance. Did you spring for the King-sized meal? Bad move. It’s picture time, where you learn that those eight subscriptions to Vibe you convinced Grandma to get are only carrying you about fifteen dollars in. And sorry, if your date cares about anything, it’s pictures. She needs those wallets as proof she was there and 5x7s so she has enough space to cover your face with some dude’s she cut out of Teen People. You pretty much have to shell out the dough and hope you get replaced by someone cooler than Justin Timberlake. Hop in the WSP “express line”, which isn’t quite as cool as expected considering it’s longer than the other one, and pray you aren’t spending at least thirty bucks on pictures your friends are just going to use to make fun of you for a few months.

So you’re done with pictures. Take a breath and relax for a second. Oh, wait, your date’s gone. These things do happen. Along with the your date’s total disappearance, watch out for the sudden foot pain and stomach nausea that seem to occur right after pictures but before dancing. Must be something with the cameras.

But now all the work of homecoming is over with, and you and your date’s suitable replacement can dance the night away. Well, the next hour or so, anyway. Soon the gym lights are on, the flashlights are out, you’re heading out to your car or mom’s minivan, and Homecoming is over.

And, sure, the night isn’t going to be perfect. If there’s anything I want you to know, besides to never, ever ask a girl to a date dance on the internet, it’s to forget the hype of Homecoming, relax, and just have a good time. Maybe I’ll see you there.

If I get a date, anyway.

10 rebels|stick it to the man

The Ten-Seven Split [08 03 03|03:17am]
So I'm not sure I'm exactly prepared to be seventeen today. And yes, it is a big deal. And yes, I will go into excessive detail to explain why. Before seventeen, every birthday is a status symbol. If I was back in kindergarten, I'd be running around all day going, "I'm six, motherfuckers! SIX! Suck it down! Would you like to borrow this firetruck? Oh I forgot, it's only for people who are six, bitch! You need two hands to count this shit!"

This also explains why I'm not allowed within three hundred feet of an elementary school.

That attitude goes all the way up through ten ("How do all you goddamn nine-year-olds like DOUBLE DIGITS?"), thirteen ("What's that? You want the antidote? I'm sorry, but the antidote only works for TEENAGERS."), and sixteen ("Has it sunk through that I'm sixteen now that I've run you over in this car that I drive? Let me back up!"). But I don't seem to be feeling the same thing at seventeen. Hooray, I can legitimately buy tickets to the R-rated movies I never had any trouble getting into in the first place.

For sixteen years it's been a rush to get to an age that no one uses to make fun of anybody on the internet, and now I'm realizing I'm probably never going to hear someone say, "What are you, SEVEN-TEEN?" It's a bit of an adjustment. I've been hearing over and over that eventually I'll be a eighteen, then filling out my college apps, then graduating, then leaving home, and eventually becoming senile and cursing at the young whippersnappers from my porch, and it never really sunk in. But now it's starting to get through.

But all that growing up can wait. I can say for sure that right now I'm in a really good place in my life. I could complain that the first slot on my speed dial hasn't been filled by a significant other, but I'm way too happy with how everything else has turned out to really care.

Here's my yearly plan.

-Have a blast.
-Check in next August.

And in case I haven't made my point abundantly clear already, I have a visual aid to help out.


And yes, I will know if you don't personally acknowledge that.
17 rebels|stick it to the man

The Fair Way [05 19 03|11:06pm]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

Sunday 5.19.02

"It ruled, and I met a lot of cool girls."
"The big three point shot of the day was meeting some girls."
" learn that guys are direct as they should be. But they are direct when you don't want them to be."

Okay, so while I mostly talking about the giant inflatable slide, Colin was talking about how I got pushed off the stage and Sarah’s rambling on about guys as usual, those aren’t the main details we’d pick out now.

It’d be fun to go back in time and tell myself, "Hey, you’re going to have a blast hanging out with these girls all summer!"

And I’d be like, "Rock on!"

Then now me would say, "But it’s going to be followed up by completely unnecessary bullshit!"

And then me would be like, "Rock off!"

But I’d explain to myself that, in the end, it was worth it by far. That sometimes things just screw themselves up and you have to appreciate what you have while you have it.

Then I’d probably do a few more runs on the inflatable slide. I miss that thing. Now you can't "tumble". I wanted to explain that if I'm not rolling on the slide, it's actually a front flip, but the ticket taker didn't look like he was pumped up for a semantic argument. I guess you can't always go back.

Last summer is really hard to sum up in words. The entire time that lasted just about everybody had the sense we had something great and rare. I had a blast. It's been a whole year, can you freakin' believe it? We're moving into a well-deserved, much more mobile summer; I figured we might as well look back at all the fun we could have when none of us were on wheels.

9.03.02: "They aren't ordinary though. None of what we have is ordinary. As much as I'd love this to continue and grow as it has, people are people. Things get fucked up. I'll try not to hold it against whoever I might be inclined to when that time comes."

May 19th, my own personal first day of summer. Hope you had a good one.

And now, the completely unnecessary related mixCollapse )

stick it to the man

Dead Man Running [05 01 03|11:01pm]
[ mood | drained ]

It's that time again.

The dead run from Spring Break to finals. A little hated moment where, no, there's not a three day weekend coming up, and even if there was you'd still be upside-down and up to your ass in homework. Every teacher is suddenly cramming in chapters and assignments left and right to finish up the year is planned, all the while giving the class a lecture on not procrastinating. Until the last minute, that soothing light at the end of the tunnel is just a freight train.

But why do we put up with it? Because suddenly we will pass into a world where the past and future fade into insignificance; what came before was worth the sacrifice and what lies ahead is too far away to think about. Crumbs of free time that were once scrambled over will be replaced with one gargantuan, seemingly never-ending pile we won't have the slightest clue what to do with. Weekends, holidays and even weeklong breaks are just a sorry excuse. Enough to push us a day, week, or month longer. There is no substitute for summer.

It's not "Accept no imitations". I couldn't if I tried. As unfortunate as it might be, my life is three months fully lived and nine months which are just transitory. Nearly everything from late August until the end of May is about looking and living ahead. To the end of class or the school day, to the weekend, to a dance, to Spring Break. But ultimately, to summer. And with summer comes to the ability to finally settle into the present. Sure, there are those highlights worth looking forward to, but few moments where we come close to the escapism that defines school life. The weariness that begins as simply an annoyance in one class and slowly permeates through every aspect of life through the year will suddenly be washed away. We will be restored, quenched and will bask in the glow that is everything this dead run to summer isn't.

We might leave in victory or just after being reamed by a math final named Bubba, but even the rape victims will be smiling the next day, if not while they're walking off campus.

And then, of course, there are those who now only live in summer the season, not summer the lifestyle. I'd feel only sorry for them if I didn't suspect they had other benefits which somehow compensated. Among them the lack of California Penal Code 216.5a.

Let me explain.

Two detectives from the sexual assault division of the Sheriff's Department came to visit our morality class Wednesday. I guess the idea is if God, pregnancy and STDs don't scare you, jail time will. Contrary to popular belief, if two consenting underage people have sex (and by extension, step anywhere on the field), it's still a misdemeanor. That doesn't even get into the logistics of what "consent" is, and whether "No" still signals an end to consent if, say, the safety word is "mulligan". Nick Conn half-seriously asked if it was true that your Mom could sign a release from the law. They told him it's not, and I asked him if that wouldn't be a conflict of interest. He didn't get it.

As usual, what was intended to freak us out is now going to be spun into new jokes, with us making partner release forms and saying "I'm lookin' to get me some 216.5a!"

Thankfully we've had these kinds of jokes to pull us through to the end, but now the bitterness and exhaustion can't be suppressed any longer. There's no more time to catch a breath. It's time to suck it up and push through, because soon any pain will be fogged into the past when we finally live in the present. We can't waste all these days that have torn away at us. It's time to find that second wind and give it all we've got. We'll be glad we did.

Now push it.

3 rebels|stick it to the man

[03 29 03|04:23am]
[ mood | full ]

This year's student body candidates make some pretty interesting proposals.

More school activities with St. Francis and Loretto
Motivation for improved school spirit
Go-kart races on the track for Spirit Week

(In future news, six Jesuit High School students were burned alive in a roasting mass of twisted metal during the school's annual Spirit Race)

But I have an idea that I think holds priority over anything:

How about not making election speeches a humongous hunk of shit?

You're supposed to give the voters what they want. Which, not surprisingly, isn't what your position does, what your experience is or how you're qualified. It's a good minute of entertainment and an early dismissal.

A lot of people were taking that in the right direction, but got a little sidetracked.

"I now you guys want to get out of here early, so I'm gonna make this as quick as possible. To put my qualifications for Student Body Vice Present in a nutshell, I'd like to quote the entirety of the Q section of the Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, Second Edition: "Q, the seventeenth letter of the English Alphabet, adopted by Roman..."

The school trip to Europe I was going on was cancelled because of the war.

Which isn't in Europe.
Which will most likely be over before June.
Which could carry with it the increased chance of terrorist retaliation, but not in Europe

And if this is about the French treating us badly, I can pretty much personally assure everyone they aren't an aggressive people.

There's that valiant American spirit: "I don't want to go! They might be mean to me!"

So today people at my house were over here for five hours working on this theology video that will, at some point, rock your pants off. We didn't technically "finish" filming "any of our scenes" or "complete the script", but it's a process. I'd like to point out the impressive filmography Hal and I share, including the pre 9/11 Spanish 3 Hijack video, starring myself as the terrorist and Hal as the well-built flight attendant, Butch.

And as long as I'm making my return to school video and bitching about anything that comes up, I'd also like to note the Five Points Burger King Playplace was graced with my presence yesterday. I put my shoes in the patented Shoesaver and traversed the triple-story complex as burger flippers and the masses stopped at Arden and Fair Oaks simultaneously watched in amazement.

And yeah, I went up the slide.

6 rebels|stick it to the man

Upswinger [03 16 03|05:40pm]
[ mood | happy ]

I was reading through a few journals a few weeks ago weren't feeling too well. I could go into why they were down, but I tended to just look at their little floating bubble emotion indicators rather than read through their dreary testaments to middle class the-movie-I-wanted-was-checked-out-of-Blockbuster depression.

Okay, so I did read all of them. I'm not a very busy person. Still, it's not my favorite thing to read about. I personally haven't done too well dealing with it though. I haven't really found anything good to say. There's optimism in the face of death, which hasn't cheered up anyone who's been sad, ever. It's probably gotten someone killed somewhere along the line.

"Sure, your house burned down and your only remaining possession is that Armalite AR-180 carbine gas-operated semi-automatic you have there, but at least you HAD a house, I mean, I'm sure there're lots of people who's best shelter was like ten stacked tires and a bathroom mat in some third world country with like fifteen syllables in its name. Like my mom once had one of those sponsor a child things they have on T-"BZZTBLAMCHKCHKCHK"

So all I really have is to say, "Cheer up, guys!", and the slightly edgier, more in-your-face version of that,


5 rebels|stick it to the man

[03 03 03|07:55pm]


Please enter your password.


You have -three- unheard messages.

First message.

Hey Paul, it's Colin. Funniest thing happened.. I was walking on the grass near your pool..definetly not trying get Roxanne to take a crap on your lawn..umm..just here to give you a suprise present, yeah. And you wouldn't believe it, I stepped on this one part of the grass and kind of fell into this little pit thing. It's about ten feet deep. This stake-thing is kind of jabbed into my thigh. Guess you.. keep fake skeletons in here.. nice quality...yup. So I was wondering if maybe you coul-


Message erased.

Next message.

Paul. It's Sarah. I'm at Loretto in a trench right now and Kelli's moving around the gym to flank them, but I think Meredith might have put some mines out there and Cara said she saw Kaitlyn with a handful of grenades. I was gonna have Claire run an offensive but I totally spaced out how to run a pincher formation so if you know give us a call. Oh, and if anyone asks I DO NOT LIKE PAT GARDNER OH SHIT FIRE IN THE HOLE

End of message.

To erase this message, press seven. To save it, pre-


Message erased.

Next message.

What the? What was that beep? Stupid cellumoglifiar thing. Hope I'm not accidently calling somebody. Stupid..complicated..oh well. Once I find some ho's this'll Pimpotron 5000. Oh, sorry Mrs. Brady. Didn't mean to use those big naughty words in front of you. Oh yes, Ted's been a bad boy. He deserves the nasty little things Mrs. Brady wants to do to his poor, defensele-


Message erased.

End of messages. To send a message, press two. To change your personal optio-



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3 rebels|stick it to the man

Suction Cup Hicky [03 03 03|02:13am]
[ mood | content ]

So the whole girlfriend issue has insisted on making itself exactly that. A factor, concern, or at least something to question more than I have lately. Something to pull out of the back of my head and rearrange.

Not that I've been sitting around inviting opportunities to pass me by. I make a point of keeping an eye on my options and reevaluting all the time. You have to know where you stand. The whys and why nots. I keep track, but it's not like there's a secret chart in my closet with Polaroids of girls thumbtacked to it and Post-Its everywhere.

Jessica Alba
Pros: TV star, would back me up in a fight, well-endowed (boobwise).
Cons: Competing stalkers.

Miss Yang
Do not believe her lies.

Hal Jakle
Pros: Understanding, funny, good friend.
Cons: Has a penis.

I'm not desperate either, but the whole thing just comes automatically to me. Meet a girl, and she's thrown in the mix. Some stay possibilities and some eliminate themselves immediately or later on. That doesn't necessarily mean that girl is defective, annoying or looks like she didn't spend enough time in the oven. Sometimes people just aren't compatible.

So it sounds like a great little all-inclusive subconscious sorting system, but it sure hasn't worked out so far. Obvious standouts? Nope. Gut feeling? No such luck. Girl right under my nose?

Well it's too damn big for me to know anyway.

But what can I do? You can't really force this kind of thing. I could superglue suction cups to myself and jump into a crowd of the opposite sex, but in all likelyhood I won't end up with anything and she'll just have a really huge suction cup hicky. I can't give myself any meaningful direction. It's easy to get myself worked up, but in the end I know the difference between genuine feeling and what I wish was there.

It's useless to whine about, and it has the opposite effect anyway. No one's going to feel special when the outspokenly desperate one heads their way. It's like being the slut without any of the benefits. I'm not here to complain. I'm just glad I'm independent enough that this thing has only marginally gotten in my way when it's been thrown in my face. It's a little strange to show up at dance to find most of your friends that showed up are currently attached.

"Hey you guys! You all dancing together? Good stuff.. good stuff. That dancing.. that sure is a kicker. Mmmhmm. So, um, I'm gonna go hang out with the fringe group until they try to get another one of those freshmen roundups going."

On the ride home my mom deviated from the usual, "You should be doing your homework," or "That car two hundred feet in front of you has its brake lights on!" and provided some valuable insight: There's so many factors I probably just haven't met the right girl yet. She'd have to be smart, attractive, funny, and somewhat twisted.

And while I'm not rushing up to my closet to tear all the pictures off my chart, she has a point. I really can't go out and make this kind of thing work. Nothing is just going to slip away from me. Because, come on, when you know, you know. There's no getting around that.

So I bring myself all the way back around to where I started. Maybe not anymore enlightened, but more comfortable with where I am.

Because in the end, I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darnit, people like me.

6 rebels|stick it to the man

Drive It Home [02 18 03|02:49am]
[ mood | happy ]

I've really been talking about driving too much lately. I'm sure it's getting annoying for people. I really just honestly never thought it'd be such a huge change for me. I've just been pretty adjusted to being home most of the time. Now I've pretty much been gone all day three days straight. Getting to spend a lot more time just hanging out with friends, plus catching up with those I don't see in my usual cycle of things.

My schedule on weekends used to be more like:
12 - Wake up
12:30-6:30: Sit around
7-10: Whatever gets planned
10:30-2: Sit around
2-12: Sleep

Now it's a little more like:
12: Wake up
1-11:30: Whatever the hell I feel like. (Excluding driving under the influence and shooting people, which are restricted for the first year of having a license).
12-2: Sit around.
2-12: Sleep.

I really want to get out to True Love or at least some place downtown next weekend.

I was overprepared for the driving test. I'm really not sure who could possibly rack up fifteen general errors though. No problem unless you happen to stumble into a CDE (Critical Driving Error I Am The DMV And I Now Own Your Testicles Or An Item Of Equal Or Greater Value For The Testicully Challenged). I pulled in four errors myself, three of which were from going too slowly at different points (Not really a serious habit of mine in any other situation).

I'm not really mad at myself anymore for being more than six months behind on this. I'm just glad to have to license at this point. The fact that I'm not even going to be able to drive anyone else around this summer shouldn't be too big a deal. It'd be nice now but almost everyone else should be driving by then. Sorry, Colin and Kelli.

Oh yeah, by the way, I'm driving.

With that out of the way, here's today's Get Fuzzy for anyone who didn't see it.

Further backing up my claim that those who don't like this comic just don't get it.

Joe Millionaire ended tonight, and yeah, I had it pinned from the start. Zora from the beginning. I told all you doubtful ones you were just being foolish and unfaithful. Oh yeah, and from now on Zoraphobia describes the fear of wearing a swimsuit. That's the end of that chapter.

So yeah, you'll definetly want to look both ways before crossing the street now.

10 rebels|stick it to the man

Let's Never Do This [02 08 03|02:26am]
[ mood | satirical ]

Let's start off with some poorly made waste-of-time internet quizzes that tell neither me nor anyone else anywhere anything about my personality! Alright!

I'm the newspaper reading monkey! I compensate for my illiteracy by holding a newspaper! Isn't that WACKY?
What kind of overcompensating simian are you?

I'm Buzz Lightyear of Star Command! I exploit the quality of others to gain success myself! But I really blow all kinds of ass!
Which half-assed Disney straight-to-video sequel are you?

Here's a fun little completely uneditted interweb chat that won't entertain you at all and will, in fact, probably cause you to try and bite yourself to death.

Biggs Crotem: Hi Ted
bigTEDler05: hey
Biggs Crotem: tell me some bullshit that I can consider insightful about myself
bigTEDler05: you're.. a.. um.. very insightful person
Biggs Crotem: that's very thoughtful, why do you say that?
bigTEDler05: because.. you're..uh.. flowing with..insight
Biggs Crotem: wow ted, you're a great friend!
bigTEDler05: thanks paul!
Biggs Crotem: While what we just talked about sums about whatever stupid point I was going to make, I'm going to keep on talking and then subject people to reading it!
bigTEDler05: I made three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches today
Biggs Crotem: What did you make them with?
bigTEDler05: Peanut butter...
bigTEDler05: ...and jelly.
Biggs Crotem: What about the second one?
bigTEDler05: ...the same stuff.
Biggs Crotem: The funniest thing happened in English today!
bigTEDler05: Umm..what was that?
Biggs Crotem: So Mr. Shakely was sitting at his desk.. and Alex is playing with this rubber band..ok?
bigTEDler05: Gotcha.
Biggs Crotem: And then Chris Fleming turned around talking to Tim Merrill and I'm doing my theology homework and then Mr. Shakely gets up and walks over to Alex and is all
bigTEDler05: ...
Biggs Crotem: "Stop playing with rubber bands!"
bigTEDler05: and...
Biggs Crotem: That's it.
bigTEDler05: yeah.. it definetly is..
bigTEDler05 signed off at 7:43:32 PM.
Biggs Crotem: That's weird that Ted signed off at the same time I was done with my story!
Previous message was not received by bigTEDler05 because of error (7:43:46 PM): User bigTEDler05 is not available.

And then I'm going to connect that conversation with one I had with Margo Garcia but you've probably already gone and taken a bath with your toaster by now!

Biggs Crotem: Hi Margo!
LMaRgOg: lol
Biggs Crotem: Umm ok.. anyway.. tell me something insightful about myself
LMaRgOg: lol
Biggs Crotem: Hello?
LMaRgOg: lol
Biggs Crotem: Umm.. I didn't make a joke..
LMaRgOg: lol lol
Biggs Crotem: Well, thanks anyway.
LMaRgOg: lol

Wow! Wasn't that insightful?

Anyway.. after doing all that insightful stuff.. I sat down and felt I really connected with the introduction of this song, "Circle of Life" from the Lion King. Here are the lyrics.

Nannnnnnnttttttssss iiiinnnnnggggooooonnnnnyyyyaaaaammmmaaa bbbbaaaagggiiiitttthhhhhhiiii bbbbaaaaabbbbaaaa
Siiiiitttttthhhhhhhiiiii uhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm innnnnnngggggoooooonnnnnyyyyyaaaaammmmamaaaaaaa

Naaaaaannnnnttttsssss iiiiinnnnnnggggggooooonnnnyyyaammmaaa bbbaaagggiittthhhiii bbbbaaaabbbaaaa
Siiiiiiittttthhhhhiiiiii uuuuhhhhhhmmmmm iiiiinnnnggggoooonnnnyyyyaaaammmmaaaa

Sssssiiiiyyyyooo Nqqqoooobbbbaaaa
Innnngggggooooonnnnyyyyyaaaammmmamaaaaaa neeeennnnngw' ennnnaaaammmmaaaabbbbaaaallllaaaa

I really felt a connection to the music when the guys go NAAAAAAA.. it was like I was enlightened just for a little bit, like I was transported beyond my human shell...

...then my Ace of Base was done downloading so I was finished with that.

But I was still on such a roll, I wrote some poetry!

I like peaches
On sandy beaches

I like plums
Even in slums

I like oranges

Okay, so poetry didn't go so well. But I'm not about to be defeated! I can still bitch about things without giving any context whatsoever so even the people who are supposed to understand won't!

I'm sick of all this stuff. You guys know what. It's like the first person that all you guys know doesn't know how to control themselves and the second person isn't helping anything. And I really don't like saying things about that third person but when they did that other thing at that one place I really felt like telling the four of you and I'm really sorry that I neglected to and I hope it doesn't seem like I'm covering for those other people who came in after the first thing. This really sucks!

But enough about the negative things.. when I was pouring milk on my Cinnamon Toast Crunch today, I had an epiphany. I realized Cinnamon Toast Crunch is the evil within us and the milk is our will to love. When you don't pour enough milk, the cereal is tough and unpleasant! But when there's enough milk, everything is OK. Except if you have too much milk and then I think your body makes you throw up. I have more stuff that brings in half-and-half and no fat milk, but I can't just throw away all my genius in one post.

Hecka hella tyte dawg late!

5 rebels|stick it to the man

Poprockpunkfunkability [02 04 03|12:21am]
[ mood | curious ]

So almost everyone has their opinion on music, whether it's the "I love everything!" or "PUNK ROCK ON BRAHH!" one. There's an endless amount of categories and tastes, and hardly anyone my age isn't into music yet. So while poppers, rappers, rockers, punkers and country-loving voracious skanks named Sarah can argue forever and not get anywhere, I have something that some people just might be able to agree on. Maybe. "What music?" is probably not even worth touching on now, but how? Gigantic surround sound blasting in the home entertainment center? The car? Just good ol' fashioned commercial radio?

I usually find myself right here at the computer with my two thousand some songs, but to me nothing really beats a good set of headphones and something nice to look at and yet boring enough to just focus on music. So far that's led me to sitting in a car going just about anywhere for a few hours. Long trips don't bug me nearly as much as they used to; now I feel like I finally get to take a complete focused listen to a song I probably wouldn't have paid as much attention to before.

So right now the comfy backseat of a car headed nowhere on a scenic but uneventful trip with one of those ungodly mp3 players with a buttload of storage sounds ideal. And instead of just rambling on, how about you? How do you usually do music and how do you like it best?

Might as well listen instead of just making noise.

4 rebels|stick it to the man

Retracking [01 28 03|01:53am]
[ mood | determined ]

Getting off track with this journal has really caused more problems than just people bugging me and telling me how long it's been (A good month and a half). I always figure that when I get a vacation I'm going to have so much more time and feel so much more inspired that I'll have a pump-action one-a-day post routine.

Yeah, not really.

During winter vacation I mostly just kept a fine balance of doing things with friends and sitting on my ass. And while that all sort of fades away and just leaves hazy memories, it sure keeps me happy while it's going. But now I'm back in grind, and I can't just remember two out of seven days and pretend the rest of the week didn't happen. I just start feeling like I need something concrete to show for every week besides doodles and poorly taken notes.

And that's where this, my on-again off-again journal, comes back into play. I can pick out the funny, insightful and meaningful moments and just let the rest fade. I'm not keeping a whole lot, but it feels a lot less like supressing memories. Picking out of the cream of the crop, or at least what comes to mind when I sit down here and get to it.

But even back here after a mondo sabbatical, I still don't have much to say. Its all slowly making its way to the top, I think I just need to get back into the flow of things. I am working on something meaningful though, and that's the liner notes and design for the CD that wraps up last summer about as neatly as possible.

But now on on to what's really important in life, bringing a tiny, spunky little butler to the forefront of pop culture. Paul Hogan of Joe Millionaire is just cool in every sense of the word. He's fab, rad, and pre-crossover-to-freak Michael Jackson bad. He needs to be my butler. Not just because I'm lazy, but he could provide occasional narration, summarize my day and make little quips. The whole show is really well produced, and anyone who say the Disney movie segment of tonight's show can back me up there. And I've been beyond Zora since the start. Just saying.

I'm starting to keep a list of memorable hilarious moments/quotes, because I'm sick of sitting around saying things like,

"Remember..that one time..when Hal did that.. that one thing..that was funny?"
"When he was taking a crap on a hill and then he fell back and rolled down it and sticks went up his butt?"
"No, Joe. That was you on a camping trip when you were eleven."
"Oh. Yeah."

"And now Paul returns to his mostly uninteresting daily life. Will he finally find a change of pace? Will he escape to a remote Caribbean island? Does Joe, the lovable scamp, still have small twigs lodged in his rectum? Find out next time. Until then, as always, I sit here patiently awaiting your return."

1 rebel|stick it to the man

Lasting Words [12 14 02|01:47am]
[ mood | weary ]

"Live every day like it's your last," they say.

But do they even understand any of it? If I'd been informed that I'd be dead after today, there's no way you would have seen me at school. Preparation for finals my ass, I'll be DEAD. I might frame someone for my future death if I'm in a bad mood. It's my day, after all. But I'd probably divy out time to hang out with family and friends, carry out some amazing but consequence-ridden party plan involving "victimless crimes" and attempts to legitimately and respectably losing my virginity (aided by the clothing optional factor). Maybe we'd play out all the stuff I'd miss that's supposed to be so important. Do a ten minute prom, then maybe graduation and marriage.

Towards the 24-hour mark we'd try to time it so I'd die right on the 4:10 mark during Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody right where the guitar riff breaks out. I could position myself to fall off a roof and then onto a trampoline made out of flattened Superball that would propel me gloriously into the night sky. We could just use a giant slingshot if that was easier.

Christmas, people. Christmas.

Still, I'd don't think I'd survive all that many days I lived like my last. It's a pretty shitty philosophy.

What you can do is make it all worth it in the long run. Balance things out a bit. I could, if I had the motivation, devote nearly all my time to school. I could live, eat, and breath school. Go to some high class college. Have a better life in the long run. But I don't. Because, hey, I might fall into an open manhole and die tomorrow. On top of humilating myself I'd have wasted two years. If I just tried to exactly what I wanted, I wouldn't have much left for tomorrow anyway. Have to put in some time for the future and have to put some in for today.

So really, it's not about living every day like it's your last. It's about making things generally worthwhile so it's alright if it happens to be.

2 rebels|stick it to the man

Defect Reflect [11 30 02|03:33am]
[ mood | reflective ]

There's something really great about having this journal. Beyond being able to express how I feel and think, to have people read and react to what I say. Sure, it's a therapeutic to get everything out. It's fun to get these little funny moments out of my head and in writing. It's nice having something you put things into and see an almost immediate return. A lot of the value, though, is going back a year later. It's going back and seeing what I was like and what was going on.

A year and a day ago, my grandma died. This, either because she was already mostly a vegetable or because I never let myself take it in completely, wasn't earth-shattering or traumatic for me. It did make me think, though, and now I have those thoughts recorded and filed away for myself.

During advent at Jesuit, we have five minutes set aside for reflection after lunch. I put my head down and drift off. At that point I'm much more concerned with my desire to have an after meal naptime than how certain people affected my life over the week. You can't force reflection. I only hope people come around and find their own ways to do it. Writing probably isn't the answer for everyone, though journal codes are here for those who ask.

It's not a "I should do this and I'm making myself start," kind of thing, though. This isn't your new study system or exercise plan. and I guess it's hard to put the value of knowing how you were a year ago in writing.

Here's a little quote from when I was ranting about sales calls:

"FINE! I'll take the bullet proof windows because I'm going to need bullet proof windows so they won't break when bullets are flying around in my house because I'm KILLING THE BASTARD WHO'S INSTALLING THESE WINDOWS."

I stopped reading when I hit tomorrow a year ago. That's quite enough me for one night.

Things haven't necessarily gotten better, but they've sure changed.

The entries that used to be private aren't really dangerous for you to read anymore and are now available. All three of the suckers. If you ever go through them, make a note to yourself that how I felt then is, in many cases, very different from how I feel now. I'm not editing them or going through putting little notes in saying "I don't feel badly about this person anymore!" or "How I felt about this person however long ago is very different from how I feel now!" Sometimes I thought things were more important than they really are, and sometimes things didn't turn out as I imagined. If you do have specific questions, just drop a comment in that one and I'll know about it through the magic of e-mail.

I love going back and seeing things change for the better without me having any idea of what's going to happen. It gives me some hope. Sure, things are good, but they could wind up fantastic tomorrow. Of course, another member of my family could be dead tomorrow, but that's the game of life. I guess I wish more people could go back and watch it unfold.

8 rebels|stick it to the man

Lusty Legos [11 29 02|03:53am]
[ mood | satirical ]


Well, it seems to be the hip thing to do. Find a person and build a world around them. Try to keep them in the dark about it. Designate Lego people for each of you and act out your adorable exchanges in the humble abode that is the partially constructed Space Lock-Up Isolation Base you or someone in your family received for their eighth birthday.

Derail any current or potential relationships of theirs. Not because you're going to make a move, but just for peace of mind.

Then, for affection to be reciprocated, a secret telepathic message must be planted in the potential significant other. This is a very difficult procedure, because all messages must be sent through your brain and not verbalized. If the interest is verbalized, the infatuation will gain consciousness of the secret telepathic message and expel it through the complex process of smacking one's head so it comes out ear facing the ground. If, however, the infatuation remains completely ignorant of your interest for enough time, the knowledge of your affection and an equal or greater return of affection will move out of the subconscious and pervade his or her entire being.

Don't try dropping glaring hints such as "I'm somewhat interested in someone," or something psychotic like "That someone lives in a fifty-mile radius of me." The fun of feeling out relationships is leaving room to the imagination. Being so straight forward carries a high possibility of alienating your infatuation. With this kind of approach, you might as well just chalk your body outline in their driveway and burn "It kills me to love you this much." into their driveway with a blowtorch.

Skeptics argue that the telepathy approach follows no logic. Thankfully, the "Thousands of single high school sophomores can't be wrong" defense has proved more than adequate. These fools seem to think relationships have to involve the risk of rejection and exposing oneself to being hurt. They fail to understand the subconscious nature of love. And while I could go on trying to convince them, I have lusty Lego scenarios to enact.

The Space Lock-Up Isolation Base OF LOVE

8 rebels|stick it to the man

Bloodless Blasphemy [11 28 02|04:12am]
[ mood | thankful ]

So you wake up tomorrow and there's an open death warrant on your head.


Well, you probably don't live in Nigeria, now an official sponsor of destroying blasphemy through the manipulation of religion. (Clicky.) A place like many others in the world where just what you say can be dangerous or damaging enough for it to be open season on you. One woman simply publicly suggests Muhammad wouldn't have a problem with the Miss World competition. He might have even wanted to get hitched with one of its contestants. So yeah, shed her blood, that's fine. In fact, you're a martyr going straight to heaven if you do.

Basically: Thou shall not kill*

And although that's one skewed take on religion, it's not about that. It's about letting that take control and govern things. I'm all for the guy on the corner screaming out about how we're all damned. I just don't want him calling the shots.

Let's try this:

That rock in the Ka'ba is just a little meteorite someone found on the ground.

Nope, no angry mob of police coming to decapitate me and run around with my lifeless head. That's something I generally take for granted. The right to hold "dangerous" ideas. To make them public. To be blasphemous.

It's obvious that food, shelter, and family are blessings. They've been shoveling those standard Thanksgiving lines at me for weeks. Father McGarry at the prayer service, "There's so much to be thankful for here at Jesuit, and I won't list it all..."

Five minutes later.

"...brick 143 in the five hundred wing, central heating, stickers..."

That's all grand. But...

Fuck Jesus
Fuck America

Nobody breaking down the door, no death warrant, no lengthy interrogation, not even a nice little letter giving me a chance to change my mind. I took a swing at two pillars of modern life here and no authority would bat an eyelash. That's a blessing. Meanwhile, if it was halfway across the world and I said fuck Allah and fuck Islam, I'd be on the fast track to a quiet disappearance or just some good ol' vigilante justice.

I didn't intend to write some standard "Let's all be happy for what we have," piece tonight, but this little story relegated to a desolate corner in the middle of the Bee gave me an idea what life would be like for a smartass like me in another part of the world. There's loads we take for granted, but the image of me being torn to pieces in a riot just about fills my plate for this year.

Happy Thanksgiving. Chow down.

11 rebels|stick it to the man

Runaway Writer [11 18 02|11:36pm]
[ mood | contemplative ]

We all have our own little ways of escaping.

It might not look like it, but right I'm running away from all kinds of obligations. School, friends, and my need for sleep are all watermarked and floating distantly in the back of my head. I'm free to fish around in my head and pull out ideas that, in the practical scheme of A to B, aren't particulary important. Some people let themselves get lost in music, some read, some do drugs.

Some people just sit and stare at the wall.

I write, for one thing.

Of course, that's not nearly it. About half my time is in some kind of escape.

1,994 general mp3s.
180 journal entries.
About 4 hours spent watching TV a week.
The armful of books read on my own time in the past few years.
A good two hours a day spent on games lately.

"You failed this bio test!"
"How can I fail a bio test when I'm expelling demons to the netherworld and tests don't exist here in the first place? PREPARE TO BE SMITTEN, ROGUE!"

I do my share of escaping. I'd probably do more sitting around and being lazy, but everything is just so damn entertaining these days. Generations before me just had different hobbies. My dad and his friends mostly blew up stuff with whatever cheap small explosives they could find and then all thought groovy thoughts while listening to these "records" he talks about. My primitive ancestors were probably just the punks who snuck out after a long day of hunting and gathering and vandalized the cave walls.

So how do you escape?

It seems like everyone has differert ways, but they're all equally val- HEY LOOK IT'S THE WALL.

6 rebels|stick it to the man

Just Homecoming [11 11 02|02:31am]
[ mood | analytical ]

It's never just a date dance you're hearing about.

It's homecoming



It's trying to everything at once, and that's exactly my problem with it.

At homecoming, you will have a blast with all your friends. You and your date will wear the greatest clothes to ever grace the world and they will compliment each other perfectly. At dinner you'll both nearly make everyone choke to death from laughing. Every little problem you had with anyone will just clear itself up. You will have the most fantastic night of dancing in the world, as you and your date will both instantly know how to swing dance like pros. Somehow. Your life will be made complete.

And if you don't fall in love, well, you're just not trying hard enough.

It's not that I wouldn't like all of this stuff to happen, it's just a lot to ask of a dance. No matter how much fun it was, people still end up looking for some perfect fairytale story. It's hard to be suprised by anything with all the hype and expectations. Don't get me wrong, Beth and Claire were both awesome dates and both nights were really fun. People just need to relax about it and let it surpise them rather than build up their night to it's best outcome and try to run it through. If you try that, you're either only satisfied or disappointed. Nothing can ever be above expectations if they're the highest imaginable. Not everyone is that extreme, but the experience tends to be one of setting yourself up for some euphoric, magical evening instead of a date dance.

The date thing is just kind of misplaced here. I'm a big fan of mano a mano, and not only as in a date. The phone, the internet, hanging out at a friend's house or even a side conversation when there's group. At least half of conversation ends up being one-on-one. I like it, but homecoming trys to throw in this intimate, monogamous situation into a group setting. At dinner everyone's trying say "Hi" and catch up with everyone else, at the after event everyone's beat, and during the dance there's not much in the way of conversation. "Wow, it's hot in here," or "We're getting water," or "Why the hell is Sarah's brother following us?" The usual stuff. I'm all for just hanging out with someone on the roof of Stuckeybowl, or a less cool but existing place, but homecoming isn't that. It's trying to be both just you and your date but then everyone and their little brother. Everything is just kind of cluttered and out of focus. It's a blast, but it's a blur.

It doesn't help that two homecomings are set back to back. Nothing gets to settle in, and good luck if you plan on getting a lot of sleep. Okay, I did, but you can attribute that to my personal quality of having no obligations whatsoever.

Even without all this anticipation and hype, neither the dance or the additional formality is really my thing. I'm content with just being relaxed and hanging out. And while I have nearly all the rest of the weekends of the year for that, I just feel a bit out of place at dances. Not really nervous or awkward anymore, but it's really not my environment.

So next time, no thinking about it endlessly for the month before. No stupid little fights. No stupid gigantic still existant fights. No whining. If you don't expect to be everything at once it doesn't have to be.

I had an great time, but let's all just try and chill out about it next year.

That said, I have a mix I created partly the week before and partly Saturday afternoon, so it's mostly how I hoped it'd go. I wanted to create another one after the two dances, but I think the first follows the whole scheme of homecoming and the actual music sucks anyway. That said, get ready to meet:

Everybody Mambo

1 - Garbage - Parade
2 - Pixies - Here Comes Your Man
3 - Soul Coughing - Rolling
4 - The Strokes - Trying Your Luck
5 - The Dust Brothers - Homework
6 - Propellerheads - Crash (Radio Edit)
7 - Dub Pistols - Keep Movin'
8 - Gorillaz - 19-2000 (Soulchild Remix)
9 - Sneaker Pimps - Tesko Suicide
10 - Slang - Field Guide to Snapping
11 - Johnny Blas - Mambo 2000
12 - Modest Mouse - Sleepwalking
13 - The Get Up Kids - Close To Me
14 - Blur - Death Of A Party
15 - Aphex Twin - Alberto Balsalm
16 - Radiohead - High and Dry
17 - Eels - Woman Driving, Man Sleeping
18 - Nick Drake - Pink Moon
19 - John Mayer - Kid A

If was covering homecoming related stuff from the last month, this would be a pretty big box set. But it's just the night, from leaving the house, through the dance, all the way to sitting around at three in the morning thinking about it. I ended up just sleeping twelve hours and thinking about stuff the next evening, but who's counting? Title comes from the end line of the comedy home movie Steps To A Successful Homecoming Part One: Asking the Date starring Brian, Colin, and me.

You have three options with this baby: "I don't care", "I don't care enough to download this on my own", or just ask and you shall receive.

Overanalyzation aside, it was a good time had by all. See you next year.
1 rebel|stick it to the man

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