After a conversation with a buddy of mine, I've decided to begin a great scientific undertaking: describing the Bohr Electron Orbital Model of Friendships. This, therefore is the first post in my new series of Science Stuff For Life.
**Disclaimer: You kind of need an understand of Bohr's model for actual electron orbitals in order for this is make sense, and I'm sooo not going to teach it to you**
You exist as a nucleus comprised of protons and neutrons (see the Subatomic Particle Theory for the Self), obviously at the center. Around you are your friends (the so-called electrons), bound to you by weak nuclear forces. I know the bond with friends isn't weak, but WNFs are actualy weak because they are, after all, nuclear. But anyways, the attractive force between your protons and your friend-electrons is caused by favorable compatibility between your charge and their charge (i.e. how well you get along). All your friend-electrons exist in one of seven circular, concentric orbitals. Friend-electrons in closer orbitals are attracted more srongly to the nucleus and are your closest friends. People who know and like less exist in orbitals further from the nucleus. Each orbital also has an energy associated with it (further away orbitals having a higher energy) that represents the amount of effort, time, and emotional anguish it would (or has) require(d) to bring them into the closest orbital. In addition to this difference in energy, different orbitals can accomodate different numbers of freind-electrons, the inner-most orbital being able to hold only a few (which makes sense, right? You can only have a few really close friends, and more less-close friends) while further, lower-energy orbitals can accomodate a higher number of friend-electrons. This has something to do with the Pauli (note the spelling) Exclusion Principle...something.
Anyways, you also have to keep in mind that the closeness and energy of orbitals are relative to the composition of the nucleus around which the orbitals are. For instance, someone who is good with people will have lower-energy orbitals, and the closest orbitals will be closer than the corresponding orbitals of people who aren't good with people or just have no friends.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Sunday Morning Rain
Today was my favorite barista's last day at the local Starbucks. It's mildly ridiculous to call her my "favorite barista" since I basicly never go to Starbucks (probably once a month or so). But she's always there when I'm playing latte-delivery-boy and we once had a nice little conversation about this Einstein tie I have. But anyways, she was talking with her fellow friendly (but not often alliterative) barista about how it was her last day. She seemed pretty happy about it, probably moving on to better things, but I'm going to miss her somehow. It seems unfair that what could've become a pleasant latte-delivery-boy-esque relationhsip, the kind where your lives intersect so minimaly but so perfectly, just got snuffed out like that. Potentiel for the sake of waste, kind of like meeting southerners your senior year in high school...
But thats just the nature of Sunday Morning Rain, I guess. You never know what your gonna get, it might be miserbaly and depressingly dreary, or it might be warm and sunny. Maybe it'll even force you inside by a warm hearth and make you just curl up and appreciate the light of a southern flame. You never do know what your gonna get, and sometimes you can throw on a raincoat or some bright yellow boots and just go about your day, but other times it's just too fucking wet. You just kind of take what you get and do what you can.
When we get right down to it, thats the forcast every day: Sunday Morning Rain (with a chance of crappy metaphor). Turn's out that this Thursday morning's Sunday Morning Rain was caramel scented and that kind of goodbye you go home and say by yourself, and maybe a forshadowing, juxtaposing hint of some actual Sunday Morning Rain this May.
But thats just the nature of Sunday Morning Rain, I guess. You never know what your gonna get, it might be miserbaly and depressingly dreary, or it might be warm and sunny. Maybe it'll even force you inside by a warm hearth and make you just curl up and appreciate the light of a southern flame. You never do know what your gonna get, and sometimes you can throw on a raincoat or some bright yellow boots and just go about your day, but other times it's just too fucking wet. You just kind of take what you get and do what you can.
When we get right down to it, thats the forcast every day: Sunday Morning Rain (with a chance of crappy metaphor). Turn's out that this Thursday morning's Sunday Morning Rain was caramel scented and that kind of goodbye you go home and say by yourself, and maybe a forshadowing, juxtaposing hint of some actual Sunday Morning Rain this May.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
My Snood Kind of Life
Sometime over the summer, I posted about a ridiculous streak of Snood wins, somehwere in the order of 18 games (shit its hard to find old posts the way I name them...). Now, I've always known that I was the best damned Snood player (at least when it comes to "Evil" win percentage) that ever graced this blue (/green) Earth, and certainly 18 consecutive wins gives that credence, but today I can be sure. I currently have going (that's right, its not over yet) a win streak of 27 games, up from 22 games about a week ago. I've also won 51 of the last 52 games I've played. (snap snap).
That isn't a bending of statistics or anything, it's not a lucky fluke of recording keeping, its not in any way fake. I am just that fucking awesome. Anyone who watches me play, or sees ridiuclously impressive numbers like that will know exactly how good I am: Fucking Awesome. And they'll be right, I am that good.
This rant isn't just to rub in how much better I am at Snood than you are, or an excuse to say nice things about myself. It's an example, a foil if you will, for the rest of my life. Snood, as it turns out, in terms of my accomplishments versus people's perceptions of them, the only honest thing I have. Everyone seems to think I'm much better than I actualy am, be it my techer or coaches or parents or the Amherst admissions office. People seem to think things are going much better than they actualy are. Trust me, I'm not nearly as smooth or in control of real life as I am on a Snood board.
That isn't a bending of statistics or anything, it's not a lucky fluke of recording keeping, its not in any way fake. I am just that fucking awesome. Anyone who watches me play, or sees ridiuclously impressive numbers like that will know exactly how good I am: Fucking Awesome. And they'll be right, I am that good.
This rant isn't just to rub in how much better I am at Snood than you are, or an excuse to say nice things about myself. It's an example, a foil if you will, for the rest of my life. Snood, as it turns out, in terms of my accomplishments versus people's perceptions of them, the only honest thing I have. Everyone seems to think I'm much better than I actualy am, be it my techer or coaches or parents or the Amherst admissions office. People seem to think things are going much better than they actualy are. Trust me, I'm not nearly as smooth or in control of real life as I am on a Snood board.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Got MiLK?
I switched to the new blogger version, and now I hate myself because I'm no longer fighting the man. The features aren't really worth it either, mostly because this old 7th Notion isn't organized enough to make use of post labels. Maybe it can do something for this hideous layout though...
But thats not really the point. The point is that I had a splendiferous day (by which I mean "just a day"), probably capped by my trashing my ipod. See, I was about to start running on a treadmill (it was cold out, and I'm a pussy, ok?) and was doing this super-intense arm-loosening-up things, and managed to swipe my earbud cord which sent the 'pod flying to the floor where is clattered, much like a pinball, between two very menacing and potentiely acid-covered treadmills. The force of the blow also wrenched the earbuds from my ears (yeah...ow) and sent them flying across the gym. So I had to spend all this time, very embarassed and with injured ears, searching for my earbuds which unfortunently match the color of the machines. Plus I ogt kinda owned by the guy running next to me...great.
It wasn't a total loss though, because while I was throwing together a shit english paper last minute, I managed to misspell basicly every word. Actualy, MS Word was being evil and lieing about misspellings, and not giving me suggesions which was very humiliating. But then, out of no where, I spell "uncorroborated" right, so Word got pretty much owned, straight up, bitch.
The actual highlight of the day came when I was (fruitlessly) searching for crappy (but playably crappy) online games to waste my time with. I stumbled upon some stupid space shooter hosted by Nabisco (who knew) in which you destroy their products (cookies, crackers, that sort of stuff) with a plasma cannon while they fly around Space Invader style. Even though I played for all of 30-odd seconds, I got enthused enough to exclaim "Die Cracker!!" I was, of course, refering to literal crackers, but it was still pretty funny, especialy considering the holiday...Luckily the only person there was OSK, and Klingons don't like the white man either.
But thats not really the point. The point is that I had a splendiferous day (by which I mean "just a day"), probably capped by my trashing my ipod. See, I was about to start running on a treadmill (it was cold out, and I'm a pussy, ok?) and was doing this super-intense arm-loosening-up things, and managed to swipe my earbud cord which sent the 'pod flying to the floor where is clattered, much like a pinball, between two very menacing and potentiely acid-covered treadmills. The force of the blow also wrenched the earbuds from my ears (yeah...ow) and sent them flying across the gym. So I had to spend all this time, very embarassed and with injured ears, searching for my earbuds which unfortunently match the color of the machines. Plus I ogt kinda owned by the guy running next to me...great.
It wasn't a total loss though, because while I was throwing together a shit english paper last minute, I managed to misspell basicly every word. Actualy, MS Word was being evil and lieing about misspellings, and not giving me suggesions which was very humiliating. But then, out of no where, I spell "uncorroborated" right, so Word got pretty much owned, straight up, bitch.
The actual highlight of the day came when I was (fruitlessly) searching for crappy (but playably crappy) online games to waste my time with. I stumbled upon some stupid space shooter hosted by Nabisco (who knew) in which you destroy their products (cookies, crackers, that sort of stuff) with a plasma cannon while they fly around Space Invader style. Even though I played for all of 30-odd seconds, I got enthused enough to exclaim "Die Cracker!!" I was, of course, refering to literal crackers, but it was still pretty funny, especialy considering the holiday...Luckily the only person there was OSK, and Klingons don't like the white man either.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Owned for Life
I'm lucky enough to go to a nice little New England prep school, and when I say 'lucky' I mean because, no matter how much we might bitch and moan, we don't have to do anything. I have almost half the class periods free, plus we have half days (done by 11:something) every Wednesday and Saturday. Ok, so we have school on Saturdays, so maybe we do have work...that's not important though because the only reason I brought it up was to say that the homeslices* and I were free this afternoon. I was persudaded (by the promise of free pizza from the local Best Pizza Place Ever) to go downtown with them (the homeslices) for lunch. Us guys proceeded to impress (or was it disgust) the one girl who was there with the amount of pizza we sucked down (we're pros when it comes to that, and luckily all athletes who burn enough calories to not be morbidly obese by now).
You have be wondering how a girl happened to be around the homeslices (especialy considering that one of them is Old School Klingon, who is obviously a loser). Its true that I have very few homeslices of the female persuasion, but this particular girl, as nice (and Canadian) as she is, is not a homeslice, she's actualy the girlfriend of a homeslice (Dr. K, not the Klingon). But no one minds her being there, because we're all friends (not the same as homeslice, mind you) and they're pretty un-couple-y. Just ask the Klingon, he knows a ton about couples because he's the ultimate third wheel, and apparently the target of derision today....hmm.
Anyways, we were gorging on pizza, and it came down to the last piece. Koopon and OSK...
Ok, stop. You know how I refuse to use people's real names or those ultra-dorky blog-abbreviations (i.e. refering to people solely by the first letter of their name, like "K and L and I went to the store on Tuesday"). I realize that using vague pronouns for everyone I ever mention won't work, so I've decided to use weird pseudonames (which conviniently coincide with blogger identities) instead. Just wanted to clear things up so you don't think I actualy call anyone "Dr. Koopon".
Back to the story, there was only one piece of 'za left, and Koops and Kahless** had decided they could eat no more. Where I'm from (bizarroland) we don't leave any pizza behind, so I knew I had to tackle this last slice despite the copious amount I had already eaten. I wasn't confident though, so I approached it cautiously, cutting off parts of it (not half, that didn't work out). We were left with the tip of the slice, probably 4 square inches (very little) but I could eat no more. Then an ingenius solution struck me: let's have it wrapped up. Keep in mind that this "slice" was an insignifigant amount of food, only a few bites and hardly worthy of note. So when I asked our waiter to wrap it up he asked me "are you serious?", to which I replied, amidst the giggles of my underclassman homeslices, yes. He brings back this tiny little thing in a plastic box that probably could've fit twenty of them while we all laughed and rejoiced at being young and as rebellious as prep school kids get. On the walk back, we got really close to this little guy, and I named him 'junior'. He has a little home in my car now, though that probably won't work out in the long run. Maybe I'll post baby-pictures.
*I know theres no picture of me here, but trust me; I'm very white
**Please tell me you got that...
You have be wondering how a girl happened to be around the homeslices (especialy considering that one of them is Old School Klingon, who is obviously a loser). Its true that I have very few homeslices of the female persuasion, but this particular girl, as nice (and Canadian) as she is, is not a homeslice, she's actualy the girlfriend of a homeslice (Dr. K, not the Klingon). But no one minds her being there, because we're all friends (not the same as homeslice, mind you) and they're pretty un-couple-y. Just ask the Klingon, he knows a ton about couples because he's the ultimate third wheel, and apparently the target of derision today....hmm.
Anyways, we were gorging on pizza, and it came down to the last piece. Koopon and OSK...
Ok, stop. You know how I refuse to use people's real names or those ultra-dorky blog-abbreviations (i.e. refering to people solely by the first letter of their name, like "K and L and I went to the store on Tuesday"). I realize that using vague pronouns for everyone I ever mention won't work, so I've decided to use weird pseudonames (which conviniently coincide with blogger identities) instead. Just wanted to clear things up so you don't think I actualy call anyone "Dr. Koopon".
Back to the story, there was only one piece of 'za left, and Koops and Kahless** had decided they could eat no more. Where I'm from (bizarroland) we don't leave any pizza behind, so I knew I had to tackle this last slice despite the copious amount I had already eaten. I wasn't confident though, so I approached it cautiously, cutting off parts of it (not half, that didn't work out). We were left with the tip of the slice, probably 4 square inches (very little) but I could eat no more. Then an ingenius solution struck me: let's have it wrapped up. Keep in mind that this "slice" was an insignifigant amount of food, only a few bites and hardly worthy of note. So when I asked our waiter to wrap it up he asked me "are you serious?", to which I replied, amidst the giggles of my underclassman homeslices, yes. He brings back this tiny little thing in a plastic box that probably could've fit twenty of them while we all laughed and rejoiced at being young and as rebellious as prep school kids get. On the walk back, we got really close to this little guy, and I named him 'junior'. He has a little home in my car now, though that probably won't work out in the long run. Maybe I'll post baby-pictures.
*I know theres no picture of me here, but trust me; I'm very white
**Please tell me you got that...
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
It's a Festivus Miracle!
So obviously that whole "Reduce Speed or Die" thing never happened, which is extremely unfortunate and quite distressing for a number of reasons. That dissapointment brings me to a tradition of a holiday I almost celebrate: The Airing of Greivances. And since it happens to be close to New Years, this will be an Airing of Greivances: 2006.
First off, last winter's running. Probably in the neighbourhood of 400 miles plus weightlifting. Problem: too much mileage too fast, and too much pavement because I was dumb meant I was in for a couple very painful 13 milers, lots of biking (too little too late), and the shitiest track season ever. Oh, and that stupid heart rate monitor I had to wear, it was uncomfortable and freaked out when I passed invisible dog fences. Actualy, I hated that whole heart rate system to pacing, it didn't work (maybe because I didn't pay any attention to it).
Next up, Old School Klingon. You used to be so damned positive and it pissed me off. You probably got enough punishment from that frisbee already, but here's your shout out for being all "puppies and unicorns". Fuck You.
Then there was French3, another miserable year of dumb french class with a mediocre teahcer. God I hated that, especialy that book that was actualy in French; my introduction to real slacking.
On that note, junior year as a whole deserves a greivance shout out for being so damned hard and destoying my social life...wait, I didn't have one. But you still destroyed my work ethic by basicly using it all up.
Track season needs a big mention. Every track season has been depressing, but this one was serious because I was so badly overtrained, I don't think I had a single good workout. I also didn't have any PRs, except that one at Quads, but that was in the 15'. I almost hung up the ol' spikes it was so bad, and my confidence is still shot from it. At our championship meet, I was seeded to win the slow heat for my main event (woot, 3000m), I mean I had pole position at fucking New Englands and didn't have a shred of confidence. Fuck that season.
Then of course, there's AP exams. That was the most hellish week of my life. The stress randomly got to me and I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, developed nasty hypochondria, and was convinced I couldn't breathe most of the time. By the way, I have an intense fear of suffocation. Or at least I do now. I can ligitmately say that AP week left me permenently scared. It sucked, I got so sick, well it wasn't that sick but I never get sick so it felt bad. Now I'm afraid of stress, which might prove to be kinda bad.
Ooh, then there's "Her Jackiness" (so named because of the pedestal I put her on) who was way too nice to me, which didn't help my neurosy at all. I suppose most the blame ought to be mine for not getting how not into me she was or how little that kiss meant (to her anyways). But she's still a whore.
I definately deserve some shit here, because I've done all sorts of stupid shit to myself. Like overtraining, or totaly misreading HJ or that time I punched a wall (but that was '05 so it doesn't count). There's no doubt I did more, but I can't really remember it so here's a big Fuck Me.
And then there was that weirdo anxiety thing I had this summer, probably a biproduct of the aformentioned AP thing. I never did figure that out and it kept me very scared and weirded out and contemplating counciling and suicide (never seriously, of course, purely academic). Nothing is more debilitating than being afraid of being afriad, makes it hard to risk anything.
Summer training; not hard enough, and hamstrung by a fear of overtraining I got from the winter fiasco. Plus my confidence was still low, I had trouble getting the motivation I needed (have struggled since too) and didn't do any abs, all of which caught up with me.
I must also touch on the general suckiness of this summer and the fact that nothing happened. I didn't get a job, never really bought into the post-HJ "shiney medals, motherfucker" theme, didn't get that D&D group off the ground...just didn't do shit. Thats basicly the story of every summer of my life, high expectations and low results. Acualy, I think thats the story of my entire life.
Comparative Government, English, Chemistry (and later Astronomy); all classes that have been extremely dissapointing in my schedule that was supposed to rock this year. Even with my triple science courses couldn't save me from mediocre classes. *sigh*...
And this whole senior thing hasn't been all it was cracked up to be. Thats my fault really, I guess I'm just not cut out to be a leader. Bonfire especialy was a dissapointment, more high hopes and dissapointment. I wanted to be all tough and haze kids, but ultimately I didn't bother and failed.
Then (oh my God), Cross Country Season. My last season, supposed to be my best season considering I was a captain and we got to host New Engands, etc, etc. Turns out I didn't train enough so I never even PRed and struggled with motivational issues the whole time ultimately resulting in a less than gutsy and very dissapointing last race. And the team, which at first showed such promise, developed the worst attitude I have ever seen on a XC team. Plus I was so beat up by the end I could hardly walk. So much for that great experience.
As much shit as I might take for this, I'm gonna mention everyone's favorite rebound, 'lexi. Oh, all my youthful lover's dreams consistently destroyed by her not being exactly perfect (hm...who really needs to get blamed for that...). I mean, who would've thought she was a Yankees fan...ew.
Star Trek XI?! I...I just don't get it...how could you?
And this weather, up until like today, has been pretty pathetic and not becoming a proper New England winter. Shame on you. And shame on North Carolina for being so damned far away. Who came up with that idea? Fuckers.
So there's the worst of 2006, or at least the parts that come to mind. But I'm not bitter, honest.
First off, last winter's running. Probably in the neighbourhood of 400 miles plus weightlifting. Problem: too much mileage too fast, and too much pavement because I was dumb meant I was in for a couple very painful 13 milers, lots of biking (too little too late), and the shitiest track season ever. Oh, and that stupid heart rate monitor I had to wear, it was uncomfortable and freaked out when I passed invisible dog fences. Actualy, I hated that whole heart rate system to pacing, it didn't work (maybe because I didn't pay any attention to it).
Next up, Old School Klingon. You used to be so damned positive and it pissed me off. You probably got enough punishment from that frisbee already, but here's your shout out for being all "puppies and unicorns". Fuck You.
Then there was French3, another miserable year of dumb french class with a mediocre teahcer. God I hated that, especialy that book that was actualy in French; my introduction to real slacking.
On that note, junior year as a whole deserves a greivance shout out for being so damned hard and destoying my social life...wait, I didn't have one. But you still destroyed my work ethic by basicly using it all up.
Track season needs a big mention. Every track season has been depressing, but this one was serious because I was so badly overtrained, I don't think I had a single good workout. I also didn't have any PRs, except that one at Quads, but that was in the 15'. I almost hung up the ol' spikes it was so bad, and my confidence is still shot from it. At our championship meet, I was seeded to win the slow heat for my main event (woot, 3000m), I mean I had pole position at fucking New Englands and didn't have a shred of confidence. Fuck that season.
Then of course, there's AP exams. That was the most hellish week of my life. The stress randomly got to me and I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, developed nasty hypochondria, and was convinced I couldn't breathe most of the time. By the way, I have an intense fear of suffocation. Or at least I do now. I can ligitmately say that AP week left me permenently scared. It sucked, I got so sick, well it wasn't that sick but I never get sick so it felt bad. Now I'm afraid of stress, which might prove to be kinda bad.
Ooh, then there's "Her Jackiness" (so named because of the pedestal I put her on) who was way too nice to me, which didn't help my neurosy at all. I suppose most the blame ought to be mine for not getting how not into me she was or how little that kiss meant (to her anyways). But she's still a whore.
I definately deserve some shit here, because I've done all sorts of stupid shit to myself. Like overtraining, or totaly misreading HJ or that time I punched a wall (but that was '05 so it doesn't count). There's no doubt I did more, but I can't really remember it so here's a big Fuck Me.
And then there was that weirdo anxiety thing I had this summer, probably a biproduct of the aformentioned AP thing. I never did figure that out and it kept me very scared and weirded out and contemplating counciling and suicide (never seriously, of course, purely academic). Nothing is more debilitating than being afraid of being afriad, makes it hard to risk anything.
Summer training; not hard enough, and hamstrung by a fear of overtraining I got from the winter fiasco. Plus my confidence was still low, I had trouble getting the motivation I needed (have struggled since too) and didn't do any abs, all of which caught up with me.
I must also touch on the general suckiness of this summer and the fact that nothing happened. I didn't get a job, never really bought into the post-HJ "shiney medals, motherfucker" theme, didn't get that D&D group off the ground...just didn't do shit. Thats basicly the story of every summer of my life, high expectations and low results. Acualy, I think thats the story of my entire life.
Comparative Government, English, Chemistry (and later Astronomy); all classes that have been extremely dissapointing in my schedule that was supposed to rock this year. Even with my triple science courses couldn't save me from mediocre classes. *sigh*...
And this whole senior thing hasn't been all it was cracked up to be. Thats my fault really, I guess I'm just not cut out to be a leader. Bonfire especialy was a dissapointment, more high hopes and dissapointment. I wanted to be all tough and haze kids, but ultimately I didn't bother and failed.
Then (oh my God), Cross Country Season. My last season, supposed to be my best season considering I was a captain and we got to host New Engands, etc, etc. Turns out I didn't train enough so I never even PRed and struggled with motivational issues the whole time ultimately resulting in a less than gutsy and very dissapointing last race. And the team, which at first showed such promise, developed the worst attitude I have ever seen on a XC team. Plus I was so beat up by the end I could hardly walk. So much for that great experience.
As much shit as I might take for this, I'm gonna mention everyone's favorite rebound, 'lexi. Oh, all my youthful lover's dreams consistently destroyed by her not being exactly perfect (hm...who really needs to get blamed for that...). I mean, who would've thought she was a Yankees fan...ew.
Star Trek XI?! I...I just don't get it...how could you?
And this weather, up until like today, has been pretty pathetic and not becoming a proper New England winter. Shame on you. And shame on North Carolina for being so damned far away. Who came up with that idea? Fuckers.
So there's the worst of 2006, or at least the parts that come to mind. But I'm not bitter, honest.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Reduce Speed...Or Die (Part 1?)
I lead a pretty uninteresting life, unlike many of my fellow blogonauts who can write about their daily adventures in the big, bad, real (?) world. So I am very pleased at the possibility of my having a very blogable (do you think there should be two 'g's in "blog(g)able?) adventure. Actualy, the chances of it are pretty slim given my parents' apparent attitude on my going places...some parts of 17 definately suck.
So anyways, as this seemingly boundless 3 week vacation loomed ahead of my classmates and me, we began planning at least 4 or 5 trips to see various people or go to various places, everywhere from East Cannen (I should probably be able to spell the names of towns in my state...oh well) to Toronto. One such trip, not as highly anticipated because it basicly only appealed to me, was going down to the depths of North Carolina to see a good friend of mine (I don't want to drop names and refuse to use dorky abbreviations like "p" so your going to have to deal with pronouns). Keep in mind that she lives 800 miles from me, and I would have to drive the entire distance myself, which is probably beyond my abilities. The parentals don't seem thrilled (or even open to) the idea either, but I really want to see her and it would "make her life". The current plan is to find someone else to keep me company and take an 18 hour, overnight Greyhound ride down there. There would definately be some boredom and fatigue induced hilarity on the way, not to mention tons of awesomeness when I get to see her again. I've always found the ideal of meeting random strangers in public transit to be pretty appealing, I just lack the social skills and iniative...maybe this time will be different. I also think there's nothing as satisfying or worthwhile as doing soemthing sweet and selfless, like saving a friend from horrifying boredom, even if it requires a day and a half of travel. Sadly this is all probably going to remain far from reality, but keep your fingers crossed blogoland.
So anyways, as this seemingly boundless 3 week vacation loomed ahead of my classmates and me, we began planning at least 4 or 5 trips to see various people or go to various places, everywhere from East Cannen (I should probably be able to spell the names of towns in my state...oh well) to Toronto. One such trip, not as highly anticipated because it basicly only appealed to me, was going down to the depths of North Carolina to see a good friend of mine (I don't want to drop names and refuse to use dorky abbreviations like "p" so your going to have to deal with pronouns). Keep in mind that she lives 800 miles from me, and I would have to drive the entire distance myself, which is probably beyond my abilities. The parentals don't seem thrilled (or even open to) the idea either, but I really want to see her and it would "make her life". The current plan is to find someone else to keep me company and take an 18 hour, overnight Greyhound ride down there. There would definately be some boredom and fatigue induced hilarity on the way, not to mention tons of awesomeness when I get to see her again. I've always found the ideal of meeting random strangers in public transit to be pretty appealing, I just lack the social skills and iniative...maybe this time will be different. I also think there's nothing as satisfying or worthwhile as doing soemthing sweet and selfless, like saving a friend from horrifying boredom, even if it requires a day and a half of travel. Sadly this is all probably going to remain far from reality, but keep your fingers crossed blogoland.
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