Fucked up my plans again through the same incredible ineptitude. Will be taking school slower in light of magnificently bombing this fucking Logic paper. I could theoretically fix it, but my test scores, along with looking at the rubric for the position paper, shows I'm not getting it. I'm extremely disappointed. It was just one more class in my workload, and I'm still not doing as well as I did in the summer. I don't understand how I can't handle the same work as anyone else. If I had the words, if I thought I could form the arguments at all, I'd still be working on it. Switching the argument means starting back at zero and going to three thousand words and brand new sources, which, between now and Wednesday is infeasible because of the fact I need to study for two tests in Japanese-- yeah, for some reason, two in the same week. I'm not doing poorly there, but I can't afford to skimp on studying anymore. There's no time, there aren't enough words, there's no inspiration. I really like Logic, too, which breaks my heart to know I suck at it so much. Kind of like my sketching class. History repeats itself, and I'm sort of hoping it's not going to continue as a trend-- that is, doing terribly at the things I enjoy.
Addendum- I also forgot to check in on Bear like I said I would. It's been a pretty good week for being a giant waste of flesh.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
He who has a strong enough why can bear almost any how.
^Friedrich Nietzsche. I have this toolbar in Firefox called StumbleUpon, and I dunno what I have chosen to have stumbled a page full of Nietzsche, but I like some of those quotes.
I got the three movies featuring Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter recently (Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, and Red Dragon), and when I'm doing something quiet, I keep one of them on in the background. It makes me wish I was taking Abnormal Psychology now instead of later. The FBI agents from the "behavioral sciences" branch are practicing what's known now as forensic psychology. It's pretty cool, except for the part where one forensic psychologist said in an interview that he sometimes has to sit with probably dangerous criminals unattended to evaluate whether or not they're fit to stand trial. But it's cool, because Lecter was a psychiatrist, and former all-star forensic psychologist, and that's why people go to him in these movies when they need to track down a serial killer. It's revealed in the books (which I haven't read, but heard this interesting tidbit about) that unlike most psychopaths, Lecter had only one sign of psychological maladjustment-- animal cruelty (in childhood), one of many signs of Bad Things to Come. Otherwise he flew under the radar. He also didn't keep trophies of his victims (because he had eaten them). In Hannibal, Clarice tries to offer Lecter the FBI's psychological profile on him, which I would have been interested to hear more about, but he ignored the deal. A prequel DOES exist, but I heard it sucks.
I like Hannibal Lecter for reasons other than his complete badassery. I like that he's cultured. I like his handwriting (which is reportedly Copperplate font). I like how well and completely he uses symbols. I like that he made fun of Starling's shoes in Silence of the Lambs, and later bought her a great pair of heels in Hannibal. I like that he prefers to eat the rude. I like that he owned The Joy of Cooking.
Voting day was long and ball-breaking, but it's worth $115. I also found my wallet today, so I'll be able to deposit that check when I finally get it. This was my second co-chair vote, and my sixth overall election, so I put my name up for possible chairmanship in the future. $150 is worth the slightly extra amount of work.
I'm working on a few fine dinners to practice preparing keeping Ypsi in mind. I told Jon we'd be having Fine Dining nights, and I want to make it happen. So far I only have one course of one meal, but I've got time. It's an appetizer, a kind of Spanish tomato soup called gazpacho. I have to figure out what kind of main course to serve, and I definitely want a dessert in there, but I dunno what that'll be yet either. And wine. It sorta sounds like I'll try something safe at first, then play with some ideas later on. Who knows what'll happen?
Sleep has been completely off since Tuesday. I've napped a couple times, but now sleep comes whenever the hell it wants, instead of when I want it to. Not helpful, body.
Sean
I got the three movies featuring Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lecter recently (Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, and Red Dragon), and when I'm doing something quiet, I keep one of them on in the background. It makes me wish I was taking Abnormal Psychology now instead of later. The FBI agents from the "behavioral sciences" branch are practicing what's known now as forensic psychology. It's pretty cool, except for the part where one forensic psychologist said in an interview that he sometimes has to sit with probably dangerous criminals unattended to evaluate whether or not they're fit to stand trial. But it's cool, because Lecter was a psychiatrist, and former all-star forensic psychologist, and that's why people go to him in these movies when they need to track down a serial killer. It's revealed in the books (which I haven't read, but heard this interesting tidbit about) that unlike most psychopaths, Lecter had only one sign of psychological maladjustment-- animal cruelty (in childhood), one of many signs of Bad Things to Come. Otherwise he flew under the radar. He also didn't keep trophies of his victims (because he had eaten them). In Hannibal, Clarice tries to offer Lecter the FBI's psychological profile on him, which I would have been interested to hear more about, but he ignored the deal. A prequel DOES exist, but I heard it sucks.
I like Hannibal Lecter for reasons other than his complete badassery. I like that he's cultured. I like his handwriting (which is reportedly Copperplate font). I like how well and completely he uses symbols. I like that he made fun of Starling's shoes in Silence of the Lambs, and later bought her a great pair of heels in Hannibal. I like that he prefers to eat the rude. I like that he owned The Joy of Cooking.
Voting day was long and ball-breaking, but it's worth $115. I also found my wallet today, so I'll be able to deposit that check when I finally get it. This was my second co-chair vote, and my sixth overall election, so I put my name up for possible chairmanship in the future. $150 is worth the slightly extra amount of work.
I'm working on a few fine dinners to practice preparing keeping Ypsi in mind. I told Jon we'd be having Fine Dining nights, and I want to make it happen. So far I only have one course of one meal, but I've got time. It's an appetizer, a kind of Spanish tomato soup called gazpacho. I have to figure out what kind of main course to serve, and I definitely want a dessert in there, but I dunno what that'll be yet either. And wine. It sorta sounds like I'll try something safe at first, then play with some ideas later on. Who knows what'll happen?
Sleep has been completely off since Tuesday. I've napped a couple times, but now sleep comes whenever the hell it wants, instead of when I want it to. Not helpful, body.
Sean
Monday, November 2, 2009
On Purity
Thoughts on "purity" have been presented to me in two forms today; in PoliSci, and in Battlestar Galactica: The Plan (a DVD with some new scenes showing the cylon point of view up to season 2 or 3).
Today in PoliSci, my prof pointed out some quirks in the Republican party, citing the recent example of a New York Congressional election. Bigger name Republicans were actually voicing their support to a third party candidate, Douglas Hoffman, over the Republican nominee, Dede Scozzafava, which eventually led her to drop out of the race. He went on to the "purity" issue, but there's a term I want to dredge up first-- RINO, Republican In Name Only. It's used to describe anyone who isn't radically far to the right, such as moderate Republicans, or anyone who looks like they might be "workin' with Obamma" (second 'm' to emphasize the hickish pronunciation, rhymes with "Alabama"). And that acronym came to mind as we spoke in class about how being a "real Republican," even by the definitions of those within the party, is becoming more and more about a lockstep conservative ideology. One step out of line, you're not conservative/Republican (as the case warrants), you're one of THEM, the Impure, the gay, godless LIBERALS. It's kinda sad, kind of unnerving, and definitely off-putting.
Battlestar struck a different note in this "purity" line of thought. In this feature (I wouldn't call it a movie), mixed in with existing clips from the show (to illustrate the timeline) were new scenes showing what the cylons were up to the whole time, and it was surprising. As we got through it, we were shown the conflict within the cylon ranks, which weren't as clear in the show. Different models experienced life among the fleet and humans and began to question what they were doing. One knowingly fell in love with his human wife, and ended up committing suicide outside of the range of Resurrection instead of blowing up the ship he and his family lived on. It ends with the short truce between the humans and cylons, to which all cylon models save one set voted for-- the Ones. But even they had one "unit" among them who decided that the Ones and the rest of the cylons were wrong for attacking mankind. Another One told him that he would be boxed for his "new insights" ("boxing" is taking the consciousness of a cylon from its body and transferring it to a hub where it remains in stasis). They were then executed because the humans found them. It struck me as pertinent in a way. These thoughts had made these cylons "impure", and they would have to be suppressed, contained, or killed. The funny thing is that their experiences with humanity is what made them that way. The time spent among humans fostered compassion in a few of these cylons, and this was dangerous to an ideologically driven genocide.
I have to work a vote tomorrow, looking at fourteen hours of BLEH. I have tests all this week, too. BLEGH!!!
Sean
Today in PoliSci, my prof pointed out some quirks in the Republican party, citing the recent example of a New York Congressional election. Bigger name Republicans were actually voicing their support to a third party candidate, Douglas Hoffman, over the Republican nominee, Dede Scozzafava, which eventually led her to drop out of the race. He went on to the "purity" issue, but there's a term I want to dredge up first-- RINO, Republican In Name Only. It's used to describe anyone who isn't radically far to the right, such as moderate Republicans, or anyone who looks like they might be "workin' with Obamma" (second 'm' to emphasize the hickish pronunciation, rhymes with "Alabama"). And that acronym came to mind as we spoke in class about how being a "real Republican," even by the definitions of those within the party, is becoming more and more about a lockstep conservative ideology. One step out of line, you're not conservative/Republican (as the case warrants), you're one of THEM, the Impure, the gay, godless LIBERALS. It's kinda sad, kind of unnerving, and definitely off-putting.
Battlestar struck a different note in this "purity" line of thought. In this feature (I wouldn't call it a movie), mixed in with existing clips from the show (to illustrate the timeline) were new scenes showing what the cylons were up to the whole time, and it was surprising. As we got through it, we were shown the conflict within the cylon ranks, which weren't as clear in the show. Different models experienced life among the fleet and humans and began to question what they were doing. One knowingly fell in love with his human wife, and ended up committing suicide outside of the range of Resurrection instead of blowing up the ship he and his family lived on. It ends with the short truce between the humans and cylons, to which all cylon models save one set voted for-- the Ones. But even they had one "unit" among them who decided that the Ones and the rest of the cylons were wrong for attacking mankind. Another One told him that he would be boxed for his "new insights" ("boxing" is taking the consciousness of a cylon from its body and transferring it to a hub where it remains in stasis). They were then executed because the humans found them. It struck me as pertinent in a way. These thoughts had made these cylons "impure", and they would have to be suppressed, contained, or killed. The funny thing is that their experiences with humanity is what made them that way. The time spent among humans fostered compassion in a few of these cylons, and this was dangerous to an ideologically driven genocide.
I have to work a vote tomorrow, looking at fourteen hours of BLEH. I have tests all this week, too. BLEGH!!!
Sean
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Halloween weekend
Halloween was fun. I didn't do anything special, really, but it could not have turned out better, in my opinion. Around 7:30, I left for Ypsi, not really knowing what to expect (previously I had been told a haunted house visit was going to happen, but it did not), but knowing that I'd be home in a short number of hours. I ended up bringing a small watermelon, since mom told me we had to eat it within a day or so, and I didn't want to eat it alone. It wasn't that good, though, which made me sad. We sat around playing Jenga for a while since a couple of us had never played. The group ended up being Ali, Doug, Courtney, Adam, and myself. I lost Jenga twice because my hands are so shaky. After giving up on Jenga, we watched a bit of I Know What You Did Last Summer, which sucked, and went for a walk, and it was one of the greatest walks I've had in a while. At first, we played a game called Slidey Pumpkin, which has two rules:
Kick the pumpkin piece, and
Slidey Pumpkin ends when the pumpkin piece is too slick (or SLIDEY) to kick anymore
Someone had smashed a pumpkin on Eastern's campus, and that's how that all started.
But walking with them, especially when there are more people, is too fun. When I'm out in that setting, I run and jump and get into all sorts of tomfoolery. I like to kick people under their feet as they're walking to really piss them off, and that turned into a fun cat-and-mouse game. Adam has this habit of jumping on people's backs, and the last two times he did it to me, I ran off with him pitifully clinging. The first time was on his birthday, and I ran for a block, then ran back, and it turned out to be a bad idea, because it was cold, and my asthma was just horrible for the next couple of hours (I didn't have my albuterol with me because my Advair has been so wonderful, breathing problems really haven't come up). I had also run that block uphill with someone on my back. So, this second time last night, Adam yelled "Uphill!", and I let him go (although that time, I had everything I needed to keep going if I so chose). I'm so glad to have a group of friends like these, where we can wrestle, climb on, and even tickle each other, and it's absolutely fine. It's freeing to have people who don't have tons of hangups. In fact, I'd say I have more hangups than they do. Courtney and Adam always tell me I can spend the night, and I hardly ever do because it feels odd to me, like I'm intruding on their space or time, although Adam has explained to me a number of times that this is not so.
They are the only people I know who I would say had "secular spirituality," even though I feel that phrase is retarded. They just have a remarkable freedom of being that I couldn't explain otherwise. They live a truth that a lot of people lose when focused on icons and dogma, by which I mean an open, intense agape love for the people around them. That's a core value in any faith, but how often do we see it, or even experience it in ourselves for others? But my friends make it easy for me.
I'm reading more and more about Christianity and Judaism, but I don't see information anymore, all I see is bias. It shines through any so-called refutation, and these barely veiled emotional stances making reading -anything- tough. Even the big-name stuff tastes funny. CS Lewis' "Mere Christianity" had me asking "THIS is the first word in modern apologetics?!" I don't want anyone's take on something, I want pure information, I want I want historical, linguistic, psychological, anthropological, sociological, and archaeological analysis, EVEN IF some of those things don't neatly apply. I AM asking "why" on a number of accounts, but the answers, I believe, lie heavily in many more areas of "what", so don't give me more of that "why" crap.
Today, I played an annual game of Cthulhu. It took place in 1928, in fictional Arkham, Massachusetts. Our group was approached by a professor at Miskatonic University to rescue a team who had gone to investigate a mansion, and were two weeks late. I played a cop, but we also had an archaeologist, a professor of Occult Studies, a private investigator, a reporter, and a Catholic priest. Some of us had "dark pasts," and mine was as a Sicilian criminal who was wanted all over Europe, but had found a niche as a cop in this small, out of the way New England town. We got up to this mansion, and the building, despite not being on the city's records, looked maintained. We hopped out of the truck and tried the doors, but they were locked, so we busted in with our crow bars. There was a monstrous, chimeric statue in the foyer, which later disappeared, and various side rooms. In the library, we found an English translation of the Necronomicon, a book of dark spells in Latin, which the priest, in reading, dropped and splashed holy water all over, and some book in Egyptian. We found a false book which acted as a switch, but we're still not sure what it did. After hearing some creaking overhead, I raced upstairs, shotgun in hand, pounding on a locked door and yelling that the police were here, and to open up. I saw a light through the keyhole, but there was no response. I kicked the door down, but I didn't see anyone, and was advised against wandering off. Going back downstairs, I watched our flank as they wandered through more rooms. On another set of stairs, I saw someone peek out, so I rushed over with a gun! When I saw a man on the stairs pointing a gun at me, I shot him twice, and Aaron, the gamemaster, said I got him in such a way that he would bleed out. But then he started saying words in a strange language, and all the lights started dying out, so I shot him in the head. Everyone had a problem with this, because saying that the dude was casting a spell wouldn't hold up in a court of law, but I didn't care, because I saved us some hassle. I then appropriated his wallet, because I was the cop, and who was going to arrest me? I got fifty bucks for my trouble. Continuing on, we ended up in a room with a piano and a comfy chair. The private investigator sat in it and began hearing the piano playing, then saw a woman playing it. I decided to plunk a few keys, but the PI started freaking out and grabbed his gun, saying that "she" was going to get us. The priest then sanctified the grounds, but I don't know whether or not it did anything, because we didn't test that room again. At one point, our archaeologist stared at a mirror that told the "future," that someone in the group was gonna kill her, but it never came true. After that, we went the side doors, and went to check our car, since we were starting to get freaked out, and they didn't like that I killed a guy. But our tires were slashed, and the transmission had been torn out and left on a seat for us. That was when we discovered the chimera statue missing. We -really- wanted to leave at that point, but it was starting to storm, and most of us were armed, so we decided to keep searching the house. At that point, I had seen movement upstairs, so that's where we headed. As it turned out, it was the guy I had shot in the head. He had reanimated. We rekilled him and tossed his body in the fire. We then found another haunted mirror, but we smashed it without viewing it (it was facing away from us at the time). We tried the next door, but whatever was on the other side turned the handle the other way, so I ran up to it, yelled that the police were, got no answer, and fired through the door with my shotgun. Upon inspection, it seems that I had killed another officer. Also in the room was a weaselly science guy, who claimed to have been from the first group and survived along with the cop for a couple of weeks... until I killed the cop. Since I had breached the door, it wasn't a good place to hide anymore, so we made him show us the way to the subbasement, where he claimed "they" went, where "they" chanted all night. We'd heard some of it when we were outside, but it stopped when I went over to the well (which was the apparent source) and yelled down, asking if they were the motherfuckers that trashed my car. Down, down the spiral staircase, below the well, and into a spiraling chamber filled with twelve cultists and their leader-- the asshole who asked us to come here in the first place! Again, I announced that the police were here, and that these chanting cultists needed to cease. They did not, so I started shooting them. At the bottom of the chamber was a pit of bubbling water, which was black and boiling. The rest of the gang started pitching in and killing cultists, but our noble reporter was tossed into the pit by the cult leader, and disappeared under the water when a giant tentacle grabbed her. After dispatching the leader and half the cult, the last six gave themselves up. At gunpoint, I made them line up and take their silly cloaks off, revealing regular (clothed) townsfolk-- all amassed in a secret sect trying to "awaken" the "great ones". They needed two sacrifices, but we saved them-- the reporter was the only live body to be lost to the monster. The cultists were armed, and one of them actually got a round off which struck me pretty badly, but then I killed him. Then, one by one, I executed each cultist that I felt didn't tell me enough about what they were doing until we were down to one, at which point the private investigator tackled me to prevent one last death. Our Occult Studies prof, who felt that his was the only true religion (he practiced voodoo), felt that it made sense to kill the last one, since the cultist went on about how they only "need one more, one new convert" to continue their goings-on, and so took his knife and killed the last cultist. All that remained of the sect was the books, and we were stealing those anyway. We spent the night in a secure room (one the statue wouldn't fit into, if it were indeed animate and dangerous) and trekked unmolested back to town the next day.
There are two basic rules to any Cthulhu game, one of which I learned today:
1 Don't read anything, it'll make you crazy, and
2 Ruthlessly dispose of everyone
I almost killed the rest of the group, thinking that one of them would be the "one convert," but I didn't. Instead, I told them that we didn't know each other, to never speak of what happened, and to never come back again. There were odd stories in subsequent days about grisly murders and a strange creature being seen swimming away in the ocean. I dunno what they meant >_>
Sean
Kick the pumpkin piece, and
Slidey Pumpkin ends when the pumpkin piece is too slick (or SLIDEY) to kick anymore
Someone had smashed a pumpkin on Eastern's campus, and that's how that all started.
But walking with them, especially when there are more people, is too fun. When I'm out in that setting, I run and jump and get into all sorts of tomfoolery. I like to kick people under their feet as they're walking to really piss them off, and that turned into a fun cat-and-mouse game. Adam has this habit of jumping on people's backs, and the last two times he did it to me, I ran off with him pitifully clinging. The first time was on his birthday, and I ran for a block, then ran back, and it turned out to be a bad idea, because it was cold, and my asthma was just horrible for the next couple of hours (I didn't have my albuterol with me because my Advair has been so wonderful, breathing problems really haven't come up). I had also run that block uphill with someone on my back. So, this second time last night, Adam yelled "Uphill!", and I let him go (although that time, I had everything I needed to keep going if I so chose). I'm so glad to have a group of friends like these, where we can wrestle, climb on, and even tickle each other, and it's absolutely fine. It's freeing to have people who don't have tons of hangups. In fact, I'd say I have more hangups than they do. Courtney and Adam always tell me I can spend the night, and I hardly ever do because it feels odd to me, like I'm intruding on their space or time, although Adam has explained to me a number of times that this is not so.
They are the only people I know who I would say had "secular spirituality," even though I feel that phrase is retarded. They just have a remarkable freedom of being that I couldn't explain otherwise. They live a truth that a lot of people lose when focused on icons and dogma, by which I mean an open, intense agape love for the people around them. That's a core value in any faith, but how often do we see it, or even experience it in ourselves for others? But my friends make it easy for me.
I'm reading more and more about Christianity and Judaism, but I don't see information anymore, all I see is bias. It shines through any so-called refutation, and these barely veiled emotional stances making reading -anything- tough. Even the big-name stuff tastes funny. CS Lewis' "Mere Christianity" had me asking "THIS is the first word in modern apologetics?!" I don't want anyone's take on something, I want pure information, I want I want historical, linguistic, psychological, anthropological, sociological, and archaeological analysis, EVEN IF some of those things don't neatly apply. I AM asking "why" on a number of accounts, but the answers, I believe, lie heavily in many more areas of "what", so don't give me more of that "why" crap.
Today, I played an annual game of Cthulhu. It took place in 1928, in fictional Arkham, Massachusetts. Our group was approached by a professor at Miskatonic University to rescue a team who had gone to investigate a mansion, and were two weeks late. I played a cop, but we also had an archaeologist, a professor of Occult Studies, a private investigator, a reporter, and a Catholic priest. Some of us had "dark pasts," and mine was as a Sicilian criminal who was wanted all over Europe, but had found a niche as a cop in this small, out of the way New England town. We got up to this mansion, and the building, despite not being on the city's records, looked maintained. We hopped out of the truck and tried the doors, but they were locked, so we busted in with our crow bars. There was a monstrous, chimeric statue in the foyer, which later disappeared, and various side rooms. In the library, we found an English translation of the Necronomicon, a book of dark spells in Latin, which the priest, in reading, dropped and splashed holy water all over, and some book in Egyptian. We found a false book which acted as a switch, but we're still not sure what it did. After hearing some creaking overhead, I raced upstairs, shotgun in hand, pounding on a locked door and yelling that the police were here, and to open up. I saw a light through the keyhole, but there was no response. I kicked the door down, but I didn't see anyone, and was advised against wandering off. Going back downstairs, I watched our flank as they wandered through more rooms. On another set of stairs, I saw someone peek out, so I rushed over with a gun! When I saw a man on the stairs pointing a gun at me, I shot him twice, and Aaron, the gamemaster, said I got him in such a way that he would bleed out. But then he started saying words in a strange language, and all the lights started dying out, so I shot him in the head. Everyone had a problem with this, because saying that the dude was casting a spell wouldn't hold up in a court of law, but I didn't care, because I saved us some hassle. I then appropriated his wallet, because I was the cop, and who was going to arrest me? I got fifty bucks for my trouble. Continuing on, we ended up in a room with a piano and a comfy chair. The private investigator sat in it and began hearing the piano playing, then saw a woman playing it. I decided to plunk a few keys, but the PI started freaking out and grabbed his gun, saying that "she" was going to get us. The priest then sanctified the grounds, but I don't know whether or not it did anything, because we didn't test that room again. At one point, our archaeologist stared at a mirror that told the "future," that someone in the group was gonna kill her, but it never came true. After that, we went the side doors, and went to check our car, since we were starting to get freaked out, and they didn't like that I killed a guy. But our tires were slashed, and the transmission had been torn out and left on a seat for us. That was when we discovered the chimera statue missing. We -really- wanted to leave at that point, but it was starting to storm, and most of us were armed, so we decided to keep searching the house. At that point, I had seen movement upstairs, so that's where we headed. As it turned out, it was the guy I had shot in the head. He had reanimated. We rekilled him and tossed his body in the fire. We then found another haunted mirror, but we smashed it without viewing it (it was facing away from us at the time). We tried the next door, but whatever was on the other side turned the handle the other way, so I ran up to it, yelled that the police were, got no answer, and fired through the door with my shotgun. Upon inspection, it seems that I had killed another officer. Also in the room was a weaselly science guy, who claimed to have been from the first group and survived along with the cop for a couple of weeks... until I killed the cop. Since I had breached the door, it wasn't a good place to hide anymore, so we made him show us the way to the subbasement, where he claimed "they" went, where "they" chanted all night. We'd heard some of it when we were outside, but it stopped when I went over to the well (which was the apparent source) and yelled down, asking if they were the motherfuckers that trashed my car. Down, down the spiral staircase, below the well, and into a spiraling chamber filled with twelve cultists and their leader-- the asshole who asked us to come here in the first place! Again, I announced that the police were here, and that these chanting cultists needed to cease. They did not, so I started shooting them. At the bottom of the chamber was a pit of bubbling water, which was black and boiling. The rest of the gang started pitching in and killing cultists, but our noble reporter was tossed into the pit by the cult leader, and disappeared under the water when a giant tentacle grabbed her. After dispatching the leader and half the cult, the last six gave themselves up. At gunpoint, I made them line up and take their silly cloaks off, revealing regular (clothed) townsfolk-- all amassed in a secret sect trying to "awaken" the "great ones". They needed two sacrifices, but we saved them-- the reporter was the only live body to be lost to the monster. The cultists were armed, and one of them actually got a round off which struck me pretty badly, but then I killed him. Then, one by one, I executed each cultist that I felt didn't tell me enough about what they were doing until we were down to one, at which point the private investigator tackled me to prevent one last death. Our Occult Studies prof, who felt that his was the only true religion (he practiced voodoo), felt that it made sense to kill the last one, since the cultist went on about how they only "need one more, one new convert" to continue their goings-on, and so took his knife and killed the last cultist. All that remained of the sect was the books, and we were stealing those anyway. We spent the night in a secure room (one the statue wouldn't fit into, if it were indeed animate and dangerous) and trekked unmolested back to town the next day.
There are two basic rules to any Cthulhu game, one of which I learned today:
1 Don't read anything, it'll make you crazy, and
2 Ruthlessly dispose of everyone
I almost killed the rest of the group, thinking that one of them would be the "one convert," but I didn't. Instead, I told them that we didn't know each other, to never speak of what happened, and to never come back again. There were odd stories in subsequent days about grisly murders and a strange creature being seen swimming away in the ocean. I dunno what they meant >_>
Sean
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
two for two
^ZOMG CONSECUTIVE NEW POSTS.
After writing about my crappy paper, I caught up on several days of work, and it actually looks much better. Go figure.
I've been thinking a bit about politics lately. Mostly how much I hate it, but also where I stand on it all. The problem with my stances on anything is that they're always changing. When I first applied to work as an election inspector, I had to give them a party affiliation, because legally, in the state of Michigan, election inspector "boards" (those five people sitting around) have to have members representing at least two different parties. The reason for that is not corruption, as a friend of mine was quick to say, but because of voting laws. If a voter needed help marking the ballot, we have to have two people from differing parties help them, so as to avoid "voter bias." Same with ballot tabulation. A couple of people from two different parties check all the odd ballots and double check each others' work. Back then, I wrote "Libertarian," but I've seen the little sheet election chairmen get, and I'm listed as nothing. Not even "independent". My box was blank. Do I have to pay a party money to be officially recognized??
I used to think I was Libertarian, and that it was full of good ideas. I still kind of think they're good ideas, but only in an ideal situation. This US history class I took back in May showed me the real strength of a decentralized government. Care for a non-binding resolution, sir? The biggest thing I realized in that class wasn't about politics, though, it was that old adage about history repeating itself being true. The "largest, most advanced military force in the world being unable to truly defeat a guerrilla force" thing has happened far more often than I ever knew. But the topic of States Rights and decentralized government has happened twice to our own country, and failed both times. Yeah yeah, Civil War, blah blah. But I found out that America was FOUNDED on States' Rights! And also that it was really shitty, so they ditched the Articles of Confederation in favor of the Constitution, which set up a stronger, federal government. The states themselves were insular and uncooperative, which isn't to say they aren't anymore, but the federal government has the power to manage them now. The way I'm painting it sounds like I'm defining Libertarianism very narrowly, just speaking about "less central government," but there are deeper statements rooted in the philosophy that I cannot agree with, mainly the idea that individual people know what's best for them. I'd love to say it was true, but I've met people, and I know it's hopelessly wrong. Same with anarcho-communism. People, on a large scale, are just not good enough to do what they need to do.
So I wasn't anti-government, and I wasn't conservative, and I wasn't even as moderate as I thought. Hey, why not go and read about socialism? At the very least, I'd actually know what I was talking about, unlike the people who call Obama a communist. Seriously, if those people had thought to ask the socialists or the communists about Obama's actions, they would be in for some disappointment. Anyway. I stumbled across this idea that blew my mind-- "dictatorship of the proletariat based on democratic principles." Woah, dude. Woah. It's this bit of socialist philosophy from a guy called Leon Trotsky, whose particular "communist" stylings were quite the opposite of Stalin's. I also found out communism, as Marx wrote, is an endgame situation devoid of a government, so I guess any so-called communist regimes really aren't communists at all. Socialism is sort of the interim between capitalist society and communism, a government paving the way for a stateless society. Personally, I think a world without money and possession would be great, but again, the idea "works" because it's untested and hypothetical. I don't really feel that I'm a Socialist either, because supporting the midway point seems fruitless, although the membership card would be a great conversation piece.
I've been asked "Why do you need labels?" and the answer is "BECAUSE I LIKE THEM." They make things simple. But in recent months, I've been watching myself grab at every idea like I was the first person to think it, and trying to fit into some role. I have an intense need for symbols and ritual and ideas, and I keep falling into new ones saying "This, this is it! I know everything I need to know because of THIS!" It's hard not to do, but I am aware of it, even if it is a bit after the fact.
I've done this with the rantings about tattoos, too. I had three new tattoo ideas today which were way better than head tattoos... But each was better than the one before it. Because of this, I'm not getting any tattoos now. I can't keep one idea I like for even a month, so all bets are off. Gonna have to remind myself not to get caught in a hasty mood...
Busy day tomorrow, rawr.
Sean
After writing about my crappy paper, I caught up on several days of work, and it actually looks much better. Go figure.
I've been thinking a bit about politics lately. Mostly how much I hate it, but also where I stand on it all. The problem with my stances on anything is that they're always changing. When I first applied to work as an election inspector, I had to give them a party affiliation, because legally, in the state of Michigan, election inspector "boards" (those five people sitting around) have to have members representing at least two different parties. The reason for that is not corruption, as a friend of mine was quick to say, but because of voting laws. If a voter needed help marking the ballot, we have to have two people from differing parties help them, so as to avoid "voter bias." Same with ballot tabulation. A couple of people from two different parties check all the odd ballots and double check each others' work. Back then, I wrote "Libertarian," but I've seen the little sheet election chairmen get, and I'm listed as nothing. Not even "independent". My box was blank. Do I have to pay a party money to be officially recognized??
I used to think I was Libertarian, and that it was full of good ideas. I still kind of think they're good ideas, but only in an ideal situation. This US history class I took back in May showed me the real strength of a decentralized government. Care for a non-binding resolution, sir? The biggest thing I realized in that class wasn't about politics, though, it was that old adage about history repeating itself being true. The "largest, most advanced military force in the world being unable to truly defeat a guerrilla force" thing has happened far more often than I ever knew. But the topic of States Rights and decentralized government has happened twice to our own country, and failed both times. Yeah yeah, Civil War, blah blah. But I found out that America was FOUNDED on States' Rights! And also that it was really shitty, so they ditched the Articles of Confederation in favor of the Constitution, which set up a stronger, federal government. The states themselves were insular and uncooperative, which isn't to say they aren't anymore, but the federal government has the power to manage them now. The way I'm painting it sounds like I'm defining Libertarianism very narrowly, just speaking about "less central government," but there are deeper statements rooted in the philosophy that I cannot agree with, mainly the idea that individual people know what's best for them. I'd love to say it was true, but I've met people, and I know it's hopelessly wrong. Same with anarcho-communism. People, on a large scale, are just not good enough to do what they need to do.
So I wasn't anti-government, and I wasn't conservative, and I wasn't even as moderate as I thought. Hey, why not go and read about socialism? At the very least, I'd actually know what I was talking about, unlike the people who call Obama a communist. Seriously, if those people had thought to ask the socialists or the communists about Obama's actions, they would be in for some disappointment. Anyway. I stumbled across this idea that blew my mind-- "dictatorship of the proletariat based on democratic principles." Woah, dude. Woah. It's this bit of socialist philosophy from a guy called Leon Trotsky, whose particular "communist" stylings were quite the opposite of Stalin's. I also found out communism, as Marx wrote, is an endgame situation devoid of a government, so I guess any so-called communist regimes really aren't communists at all. Socialism is sort of the interim between capitalist society and communism, a government paving the way for a stateless society. Personally, I think a world without money and possession would be great, but again, the idea "works" because it's untested and hypothetical. I don't really feel that I'm a Socialist either, because supporting the midway point seems fruitless, although the membership card would be a great conversation piece.
I've been asked "Why do you need labels?" and the answer is "BECAUSE I LIKE THEM." They make things simple. But in recent months, I've been watching myself grab at every idea like I was the first person to think it, and trying to fit into some role. I have an intense need for symbols and ritual and ideas, and I keep falling into new ones saying "This, this is it! I know everything I need to know because of THIS!" It's hard not to do, but I am aware of it, even if it is a bit after the fact.
I've done this with the rantings about tattoos, too. I had three new tattoo ideas today which were way better than head tattoos... But each was better than the one before it. Because of this, I'm not getting any tattoos now. I can't keep one idea I like for even a month, so all bets are off. Gonna have to remind myself not to get caught in a hasty mood...
Busy day tomorrow, rawr.
Sean
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
nom
I haven't been writing here lately because of the imagined priority of my Logic paper, but I'm really not getting anywhere with it. It's gonna be shit, so I'm just gonna hack out the word requirement, throw sources where needed, and hope for a mid-level grade on it. There's something about Logic that I'm not getting, and I don't know what it is.
The way I dream bothers me because of how intense my emotions get during REM sleep. The warmest, fullest, most content happiness I've ever felt was in a dream, as well as the deepest sorrow I've ever felt. I woke up one morning recently for two reasons-- it was very hard to breathe (I've been having a lot of problems with asthma) and because of the phenomenal sadness of this dream. I had made it most of the way to the basement before a few giant sobs made their way out, but it was funny. I was occupied with my breathing and trying to get to the bathroom, barely awake, and my body was still dealing with an emotional situation that didn't even exist. Whereas part of me said "That's the saddest fucking thing in the entire world," the "rest of me" was getting annoyed! I had priorities, after all. I like telling that story because I find it really odd and somewhat amusing.
Dead possum #3 is the garbage. It's #3 because that's how many dead possums have shown up in our yard in the past year or so. Nova isn't bothering with them post mortem, so I don't think it's his doing. They stink.
Poor Nova. He's really running out of steam, although today he looked more like himself than he has for a while. I think he hurt himself, but the vet thinks he's got arthritis, so he's got painkillers. We're feeding him glucosamine with the hopes that it'll make him a little more mobile. He's not IMmobile, but he is very limpy, and after a hectic day (no one has a fucking brain around here, Dozer is still allowed to beat the shit out of Nova) he can barely get up. Not to mention his heartworm situation... Poor doggy.
Japanese was going better til this quiz today. I did quite poorly. I feel I did about the same on the first quiz. However, they are 25 points, while our tests are worth 100. On my first full-on test? 94. I know what I need to work on, so I should do well again.
St Andrews is crazy, I guess. From what I understand, at some point in the last three years, the diocese has had an exorcism performed there. We're also doing tons of stuff out of turn as a congregation in the Episcopal church, which is really pissing off the higher ups we're asking help from. I dunno. Things are odd. People are still missing important points.
I'm really fat right now. I'm probably going to join the gym my brother goes to. Everyone keeps harping on me because of Coke, but that's not THE thing that makes me fat. I would say THE thing is that I live at home and don't have control over what food comes in without spending my own money, which currently consists of fifteen dollars. Another important part is sedentary lifestyle, but I'd still place that just under "eating wrong". Luckily, exercise is something I CAN do, AND has shown significant results when I really start kicking ass. My weight is really quite variable, it just depends on which direction I'm "pushing" it. Strength training, I can do no problem, but cardio, more vital to direct weight loss, is something I lack access to. I tried running, I fucked up my feet in the process. I tried the treadmill we have, but it's old and shitty and can't maintain one constant speed. The pace of circuit training cannot compare to real, focused cardiovascular exercise. I'm going to join this gym for access to their elliptical machines. Ken uses them for the same reason I'm going to-- "My joints get tired faster than I do." He's doing what I should have been, and he's in good shape because of it, although he still probably eats less than me (but that may change as soon as he's out of school). I'll say it right now, though. I've weighed less than him before. At one point, he weighed 10 pounds more, and still looked thinner, and I do hate him for it.
Realistically, I know I'll be maintaining an overweight body. But "overweight" at 6' is 184+. Right now, I'm aiming at not being "obese" on the BMI. And I can do that through exercise and less Coke. I did it before without meaning to (Eastern's band camp), and I think I'll be below high school weight with a focused effort.
zomg tired
Sean
Update: I just joined Planet Fitness, and am going to rock their elliptical machines.
The way I dream bothers me because of how intense my emotions get during REM sleep. The warmest, fullest, most content happiness I've ever felt was in a dream, as well as the deepest sorrow I've ever felt. I woke up one morning recently for two reasons-- it was very hard to breathe (I've been having a lot of problems with asthma) and because of the phenomenal sadness of this dream. I had made it most of the way to the basement before a few giant sobs made their way out, but it was funny. I was occupied with my breathing and trying to get to the bathroom, barely awake, and my body was still dealing with an emotional situation that didn't even exist. Whereas part of me said "That's the saddest fucking thing in the entire world," the "rest of me" was getting annoyed! I had priorities, after all. I like telling that story because I find it really odd and somewhat amusing.
Dead possum #3 is the garbage. It's #3 because that's how many dead possums have shown up in our yard in the past year or so. Nova isn't bothering with them post mortem, so I don't think it's his doing. They stink.
Poor Nova. He's really running out of steam, although today he looked more like himself than he has for a while. I think he hurt himself, but the vet thinks he's got arthritis, so he's got painkillers. We're feeding him glucosamine with the hopes that it'll make him a little more mobile. He's not IMmobile, but he is very limpy, and after a hectic day (no one has a fucking brain around here, Dozer is still allowed to beat the shit out of Nova) he can barely get up. Not to mention his heartworm situation... Poor doggy.
Japanese was going better til this quiz today. I did quite poorly. I feel I did about the same on the first quiz. However, they are 25 points, while our tests are worth 100. On my first full-on test? 94. I know what I need to work on, so I should do well again.
St Andrews is crazy, I guess. From what I understand, at some point in the last three years, the diocese has had an exorcism performed there. We're also doing tons of stuff out of turn as a congregation in the Episcopal church, which is really pissing off the higher ups we're asking help from. I dunno. Things are odd. People are still missing important points.
I'm really fat right now. I'm probably going to join the gym my brother goes to. Everyone keeps harping on me because of Coke, but that's not THE thing that makes me fat. I would say THE thing is that I live at home and don't have control over what food comes in without spending my own money, which currently consists of fifteen dollars. Another important part is sedentary lifestyle, but I'd still place that just under "eating wrong". Luckily, exercise is something I CAN do, AND has shown significant results when I really start kicking ass. My weight is really quite variable, it just depends on which direction I'm "pushing" it. Strength training, I can do no problem, but cardio, more vital to direct weight loss, is something I lack access to. I tried running, I fucked up my feet in the process. I tried the treadmill we have, but it's old and shitty and can't maintain one constant speed. The pace of circuit training cannot compare to real, focused cardiovascular exercise. I'm going to join this gym for access to their elliptical machines. Ken uses them for the same reason I'm going to-- "My joints get tired faster than I do." He's doing what I should have been, and he's in good shape because of it, although he still probably eats less than me (but that may change as soon as he's out of school). I'll say it right now, though. I've weighed less than him before. At one point, he weighed 10 pounds more, and still looked thinner, and I do hate him for it.
Realistically, I know I'll be maintaining an overweight body. But "overweight" at 6' is 184+. Right now, I'm aiming at not being "obese" on the BMI. And I can do that through exercise and less Coke. I did it before without meaning to (Eastern's band camp), and I think I'll be below high school weight with a focused effort.
zomg tired
Sean
Update: I just joined Planet Fitness, and am going to rock their elliptical machines.
Monday, October 5, 2009
cheating strategy
Things aren't great. I hate my classes, and I'm generally irritable and stressed lately. And tired. I forgot when it happened, but I thought about it, and I've been sleeping between 6-7 hours lately, and I'm more of a 10-hour guy. I think it's because I stay out with my friends, and I tell myself that's absolutely okay, because school or work shouldn't stomp out my social life, but then I get tired and grumpy. Still, my friends mean more to me than three extra hours of sleep.
This will be the only Japanese course I take at OCC, because this teacher is the only one who teaches it, and she's got a bitchy attitude. I will not put up with this shit for three more semesters. The first issue was when I missed a class, and she asked if I e-mailed her, and was being a bitch about semantics. The second was when she called on me to translate a sentence in Japanese. I knew I had been called on, and when I did, I went to read the sentence. Proper course of action, no? But she KEPT calling on me. First, it was "the gentleman sitting against the wall", then, "with the gray shirt", then, "with the long hair," then, "sitting alone with no one around him" (it was really only in front and back-- I WAS sitting NEXT to someone) and things like that. Each of those new comments would distract me from reading, so it was about a minute of that shit before I got to do what she asked me to. Fuck that class. I have the books, which we'll be using up until the LAST of FOUR COURSES, and Dr Mark Kane, who WON'T act like such an asshole, and WON'T take TWO FUCKING HOURS to teach a couple of things!!
Logic is still interesting, and there's really only one problem with it, and it's this chick who's kinda slow who always manages to stray into me and Richy's group, scraping for answers rather than contributing. She has an annoying voice and doesn't think, yet expects us to work for her. We don't. Last session she started wandering to other groups, so that's a positive sign.
Oh, I got a paper topic approved! "Transhumanism," which I've tentatively defined as "the artificial evolution of humanity by humanity." The issue (which in Logic terms, is a specific question about a general topic, something quite different from the Sean-Gripe definition) I've "found" is whether or not it will be realized, and the position I took was "yes." Basically, we're not just gonna replace, but enhance our bodies through medicine and technology. It sounds like we do that now, but I'm talking in the EXTREME, and not just pace makers and false limbs.
PoliSci would be loads of fun if the prof weren't so adversarial in his tone and the students weren't so dumb. They don't understand that despite the way it sounds, he's not trying to argue with or shit on anyone. He's trying to lecture. But there are at least two women who are dead set on "beating him" in an "argument." Ugh.
I'm not just irritable and grumpy, though, I've wandered into "intolerable" now. I'm finding it increasingly harder to deal with boredom. Grandma and I went to see the DSO perform some Samuel Barber stuff, and most of it was fun, but one of the longer pieces, Barber's Piano Concerto or something, was SO BORING. It was technically brilliant, but aesthetically anesthetic. Luckily they ended with Don Quixote, which was beautiful, if long (forty-minutes-for-one-song long). And yesterday, Dad was at Grandma's, and it was the usual goofiness until the Michaeliks showed up. Out of a sense of politeness, Ken, Derek, and I just shut up and sat around while the Grown-Ups talked. The Michaeliks were nice guys, but for most of the two hours we were there, we weren't hanging out with Dad and Grandma, we were watching them hang out with the Michaeliks. I'll admit I used dinner as an excuse, and I'm really sorry that I did, but I couldn't take it. I also wanted coke, and that gnawed at me for a while there too.
But I've become intolerable of minute pieces of boredom. And it's another one of those things I throw into the mix when I ask "How do regular people do this when I can't?!" Among that, there's "16 credit hour semesters," "40+ work hours a week AND having a life," "Work AND school AND life" "Put up with X amount of shit for X amount of time," (that one is best illustrated with Jonathan's job at Lowe's, where he's been working for a year and a half since he graduated college, and always talks about how he hates it, although it extends to much more than just occupation), but there are more, which either escape me at the moment or I haven't managed to make into a thought that would be coherent to someone else. How am I so intolerant of insignificant boredom when everyone else is fine?
I'm probably just stressed. I don't really unwind, either, I just screw around/procrastinate. But there are some things keeping it together for me, and one of them is time with friends. There's a real reason I refuse to give up social time, and it's because it helps to have people around. There's something my brother wrote once, about how he had previously believed he shouldn't be so close to his friends because they'd all leave, but it's something I completely reject. The only way my friends are getting away from me is kicking and screaming, and even then, most won't make it. Trust me on that one.
One gleaming light at the end of the tunnel is Eastern. I cannot WAIT to get back to Ypsi. Jon and I are gonna get an apartment together, and it's going to be the most awesome apartment arrangement ever. I liked living with Adam, but he was always working or with Courtney, so I never really SAW him. Jon has said he won't be working, and as of this writing he's single, so maybe I'll actually be living with a friend this time around. I don't blame Adam, though, he had to do so much just to stay afloat, it was nuts. I just need to get through this small-time bullshit and get out there.
I may take -one- more Japanese class at OCC, and it'll be out of convenience. I'll have all my Humanities credits out of the way if I do, and when I transfer to Eastern, if I don't test high enough on my own studies, I'll at least qualify to get into the Intermediate courses there. What I mean is, if I was good enough after studying under Mark Kane, I could take an aptitude test and sail past a course or two, although that's an ideal situation. I can work at it, though.
Sean
This will be the only Japanese course I take at OCC, because this teacher is the only one who teaches it, and she's got a bitchy attitude. I will not put up with this shit for three more semesters. The first issue was when I missed a class, and she asked if I e-mailed her, and was being a bitch about semantics. The second was when she called on me to translate a sentence in Japanese. I knew I had been called on, and when I did, I went to read the sentence. Proper course of action, no? But she KEPT calling on me. First, it was "the gentleman sitting against the wall", then, "with the gray shirt", then, "with the long hair," then, "sitting alone with no one around him" (it was really only in front and back-- I WAS sitting NEXT to someone) and things like that. Each of those new comments would distract me from reading, so it was about a minute of that shit before I got to do what she asked me to. Fuck that class. I have the books, which we'll be using up until the LAST of FOUR COURSES, and Dr Mark Kane, who WON'T act like such an asshole, and WON'T take TWO FUCKING HOURS to teach a couple of things!!
Logic is still interesting, and there's really only one problem with it, and it's this chick who's kinda slow who always manages to stray into me and Richy's group, scraping for answers rather than contributing. She has an annoying voice and doesn't think, yet expects us to work for her. We don't. Last session she started wandering to other groups, so that's a positive sign.
Oh, I got a paper topic approved! "Transhumanism," which I've tentatively defined as "the artificial evolution of humanity by humanity." The issue (which in Logic terms, is a specific question about a general topic, something quite different from the Sean-Gripe definition) I've "found" is whether or not it will be realized, and the position I took was "yes." Basically, we're not just gonna replace, but enhance our bodies through medicine and technology. It sounds like we do that now, but I'm talking in the EXTREME, and not just pace makers and false limbs.
PoliSci would be loads of fun if the prof weren't so adversarial in his tone and the students weren't so dumb. They don't understand that despite the way it sounds, he's not trying to argue with or shit on anyone. He's trying to lecture. But there are at least two women who are dead set on "beating him" in an "argument." Ugh.
I'm not just irritable and grumpy, though, I've wandered into "intolerable" now. I'm finding it increasingly harder to deal with boredom. Grandma and I went to see the DSO perform some Samuel Barber stuff, and most of it was fun, but one of the longer pieces, Barber's Piano Concerto or something, was SO BORING. It was technically brilliant, but aesthetically anesthetic. Luckily they ended with Don Quixote, which was beautiful, if long (forty-minutes-for-one-song long). And yesterday, Dad was at Grandma's, and it was the usual goofiness until the Michaeliks showed up. Out of a sense of politeness, Ken, Derek, and I just shut up and sat around while the Grown-Ups talked. The Michaeliks were nice guys, but for most of the two hours we were there, we weren't hanging out with Dad and Grandma, we were watching them hang out with the Michaeliks. I'll admit I used dinner as an excuse, and I'm really sorry that I did, but I couldn't take it. I also wanted coke, and that gnawed at me for a while there too.
But I've become intolerable of minute pieces of boredom. And it's another one of those things I throw into the mix when I ask "How do regular people do this when I can't?!" Among that, there's "16 credit hour semesters," "40+ work hours a week AND having a life," "Work AND school AND life" "Put up with X amount of shit for X amount of time," (that one is best illustrated with Jonathan's job at Lowe's, where he's been working for a year and a half since he graduated college, and always talks about how he hates it, although it extends to much more than just occupation), but there are more, which either escape me at the moment or I haven't managed to make into a thought that would be coherent to someone else. How am I so intolerant of insignificant boredom when everyone else is fine?
I'm probably just stressed. I don't really unwind, either, I just screw around/procrastinate. But there are some things keeping it together for me, and one of them is time with friends. There's a real reason I refuse to give up social time, and it's because it helps to have people around. There's something my brother wrote once, about how he had previously believed he shouldn't be so close to his friends because they'd all leave, but it's something I completely reject. The only way my friends are getting away from me is kicking and screaming, and even then, most won't make it. Trust me on that one.
One gleaming light at the end of the tunnel is Eastern. I cannot WAIT to get back to Ypsi. Jon and I are gonna get an apartment together, and it's going to be the most awesome apartment arrangement ever. I liked living with Adam, but he was always working or with Courtney, so I never really SAW him. Jon has said he won't be working, and as of this writing he's single, so maybe I'll actually be living with a friend this time around. I don't blame Adam, though, he had to do so much just to stay afloat, it was nuts. I just need to get through this small-time bullshit and get out there.
I may take -one- more Japanese class at OCC, and it'll be out of convenience. I'll have all my Humanities credits out of the way if I do, and when I transfer to Eastern, if I don't test high enough on my own studies, I'll at least qualify to get into the Intermediate courses there. What I mean is, if I was good enough after studying under Mark Kane, I could take an aptitude test and sail past a course or two, although that's an ideal situation. I can work at it, though.
Sean
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