I got an email today that said this:
Dear friend , use this Internet Explorer patch now!
There are dangerous virus in the Internet now!
More than 500.000 already infected!
It’d be so funny, if it wasn’t.
By the way, I use Mozilla Firebird, so I’m sure that those “dangerous virus in the Internet” will probably not go away with an Internet Explorer patch.
Nyaa nyaa nyaa. Can’t catch me.
And so, I sit here at work, discussing the possibility of a nuclear meltdown at the local Diablo Valley Power Plant.
“If it blows up,” the kid says, without looking away from the video game, “then we have something like three minutes to get away. I mean, we’re all dead.”
“I don’t think it’s that serious,” say I, without looking away from the blog screen. “It’s serious, but not that serious.”
Today, Andrea asked for help on tightening up an already well-written application to an internship. Good luck on it, Andrea. You can do it. Just chill.
And so, I wake up at 7 this morning to come to campus and drop off my last final… my final final, if you will. Yesterday there was no rain, nor the day before. The final on Wednesday went really well, but that’s what I thought about the midterm…
I’m just glad to be done.
Sarah’s leaving for New York on Monday or Tuesday, and then it’ll be just me and Elite Force II.
Yesterday, one of the kids at work told me that there’d be rain today. I told him that I would sure hope so, as I glanced up at a sky tearing itself apart, the clouds and sunset swiftly shifting about downtown SLO.
Today it happened to be one of the warmest days of the year.
Yesterday, I had surefire proof that I understood Nietszche in a way that noone else in my class had. I even convinced three others in my study group that my view was correct. It was perfect, with support and everything.
This morning, I awoke at 7 to head to campus and discuss this matter with my Philosophy professor. He managed to tell me that I had it all wrong.
So, tomorrow morning is my only final: English 253, Great Books III, Modern Literature. I have bled for that class. I have understood what I read more than possibly anyone else in the class. I would have made Mr. Lunsford proud.
And I’m afraid that my grade won’t reflect that.
And I suppose there’s only one way to find out. Only one way to discover if it will rain tomorrow. Only one way to find out that all my revelations can be unraveled.
The answer lies in tomorrow.
As I drew the windowshades close
I noticed the passage of time…
in its subvocal tropical tone
or in its shrieking harmonics of perfect symbolism
The walls will become fields
will become walls
again and again.
We took the kids at work out for bowling and pizza on Friday. It was a really nice time, one in which you can forget that you work with these kids, that sometimes they are brats and you have to kick them out of the lab, that sometimes you are so tired that you are anxious for the end of your shift. No, that day we were just a bunch of friends.
On the way to Pismo Beach, where all the bowling and food was taking place (and no, mom and sis, we didn’t take them into the water), one of the kids started talking to me in the van.
“You know, one time I was staying over at ____’s house (name omitted to protect the innocent), and we saw some really strange stuff. We stayed up until midnight and we saw ghosts!”
“Really? Are you sure you weren’t already asleep?”
“I’m sure of it, just ask ____!” And at this point, ____ was nodding in the other seat next to me. “It makes sense,” continued the kid that I was speaking to. “____’s father is a Satan worshipper. I mean, he’s got all these creepy looking things in his house, and even some of those tarot cards. Hey ____, isn’t it true that your dad is a Satan worshipper?”
____ nods again, and I’m almost certain he’s just nodding in order to stay out of the conversation…
But yeah, kids say weird stuff. That is a case in point.
One week to go before the end. Finals week looms before me like a fathomless.
I wish I could croon a song out of this tired old guitar… one that would explain how I feel.
For some reason, I get the most calls on my cell phone when I’m on my bike. I have an extreme dislike of when people ride on their bikes talking on phones… so I don’t do it.
I’m not complaining. Not at all. I don’t think I get enough calls sometimes…
I never watch television anymore.
Note to self: next time that someone mentions they want you to go grocery cart racing,
seriously consider saying no.