Has anyone ever told you that?  Whether it pertained to your situation or their’s, I’m sure you’ve heard this phrase somewhere.  It’s a nice little reminder that things aren’t all terrible, and as much as I hate cliché statements and phrases, this one is actually one that I can live with.  Yes, things could be a lot worse.  They may be bad right now, but they sure as hell could be a lot worse.

That’s what I wish Americans would tell themselves.

January 25th, 2008: a date that will live in infamy.  Barack Obama was officially made president of the United States.

There are people I know, including many of my friends, that no longer support Barack Obama in anything that he ever does ever.  Ever.  Fucking ever.  And the part that makes me angry is that some of these people voted for him.  In fact, most of these people voted for him.  Now, I agree that he didn’t turn out to be the bright, shining beacon of perfection that everyone hoped for.  He’s done some things and proposed some things that don’t settle with the general American public.  Yes, I know.  Not everyone is particularly happy with him.

BEFORE YOU CONTINUE READING: this is not prObama propaganda.  I’m not going to take sides.  I just want to get one simple point across…

Things could be a lot worse.

The other day, I stayed up until 2:00 in the morning just talking to myself about how much this all pisses me off.  Has anyone else realized how TORN WE ARE AS A COUNTRY?  HOLY SHIT, WE’RE ENGAGED IN A CIVIL WAR OF CRITICISM!  Every day I turn on the T.V. and hear some far-left or far-right critic bashing the opposite side for how stupid they’re being.  And I use the word “stupid” because that’s exactly what they think of the opposite side.  Seriously.  It all comes down to who’s the idiot.  Watch an hour or two of MSNBC prime time political commentary (far-left/liberal).  No need to be specific or give any names; they’re all the same.  Take note of how this person comments on something someone from the far-right said.  Usually, their tone is condescending and arrogant, as if the commentator (and their loyal viewers) are far more intellectually superior than those right-winged nutjobs.  Sometimes, they’ll even be lucky enough to find a clip of the same person contradicting what they just said.  And why do they do this?  Because they’re trying to get one point across to the viewer:

This person is an idiot.  Don’t listen to a word they say from now on, because they are an idiot.

Now, switch over to Fox News (far-right/conservative) for an hour or two to watch some more political commentary.  This time you’ll get something a little different.  Instead of condescendingly questioning the intelligence of the opposite side, the commentator (again, no need for names when they’re all the same) will try and instill fear in their viewers by providing possible worst-case scenarios that MIGHT be brought about by some new progressive bill, as well as Progressivism in general.  (Also, it’s important to note that to these conservative commentators, Progressivism is interchangeable with Liberalism, Fascism, Communism, Socialism, and death).  And no matter how slightly or majorly progressive the bill may be, all Progressivism is evil and will therefore bring about the biblical apocalypse.  Then, they might comment on something someone from the far-left said in an interview.  But instead of finding clips of this same person contradicting his/herself, they take what that person said and get angry, spewing messages of hate and doom to their viewers.

These are two examples of political media bullies, and while they may have their differences, they’re both saying the same thing:

“The other guy is an idiot.”

However, the word “idiot” is being used in two different contexts.  Yes, these two commentators are both calling “idiot” on the opposite side, but their definitions of an “idiot” differ from one another.  Here’s what each side is trying to say…

Far-left/Liberal:  ”You idiot, it’s pronounced ‘new-clee-err’.”

Far-right/Conservative: “YOU IDIOT, YOU’RE GOING TO GET US ALL KILLED!”

And it’s because of these unsatisfiable political media bullies that we will never be happy with any president ever again.  There will always be critics.  And political critics aren’t the ones to criticize by politely disagreeing; we’ve come to a point in history when critics are just bullies with microphones, and the ones who are heard the most are the ones affiliated with the party opposite to that of our current president at that time.

Remember George W. Bush?  I’m sure you do, because no one could shut up about him.  Now, needless to say, he made some pretty big mistakes, and there is no tolerance for mistakes when you’re in the public eye.  Of course I didn’t necessarily agree with everything he said or did.  In my opinion, I thought he was hurting the U.S. culturally by not being more concerned with the facts (or pronunciations, for that matter) of foreign peoples and countries.  I always thought that if we wanted to maintain peace, we would need to gain respect for our culture, and to gain respect for our culture, we would need to respect other cultures.  But I remember once I was intellectually mature enough, I started cutting him some slack.  It wasn’t like he was killing us, he was just being inconvenient to some/most of us.  Oh well.  We can get over it.

But now Obama is president, and now the conservative media has their chance to take shots at the president.  The thing I can’t stand, though, is how often other people listen to them, letting themselves get so angry over something like the concept of universal healthcare that when they see Obama’s picture on T.V., they start to bark and snarl at the screen, shouting “DIE, SPAWN OF SATAN, DIE!”

But is it really worth all the anger?  I can’t imagine we’ll ever get anything done again if we tear the country into two radically different ends of the political spectrum with nothing in-between.  I shouldn’t have to worry about a second American Civil War, but I do, because every day we get closer and closer to that possibility.  We shouldn’t even be anywhere near that possibility.  If we want to get anything done, we have to bite the bullet and deal with what we’ve got.  If anyone knows how far complaining will get you, it’s me, and you better believe it will get you nowhere.

Let’s just stop complaining and get to work.  Things could be a lot worse.

No, I’m going to start off by actually explaining WHY I barely ever post.  I figured it out, and here it is:

Adderall.

This bitter little orange pill actually makes me want to post.  See, Adderall is prescribed to patients who “suffer” from ADHD to help them focus on the important stuff, like school, work, schoolwork, workwork, and schoolschoolworkschool.  Or at least it’s supposed to.  For me, however, it makes me focus on UNimportant stuff (see: “my blog”).  I was prescribed Adderall to help me stop procrastinating on schoolwork, but it actually might be making the situation worse.  It’s a magical drug that turns the loud, spastic Adam into the quiet, intellectual Adam that thinks at 500 concepts per minute and sits at his desk, biting his nails and twirling his hair.  And on this subject, here’s a fun fact: Every post on my blog was written while under the influence of Adderall.  All I need is one pill and some free time at school and I’m ready to type.

The problem with Adderall, though, is that it’s a personality-changer.  A lot more people enjoy my presence when I don’t take one than when I do take one, and on top of that, it destroys my appetite.  I barely eat while on Adderall, which may or may not be a good thing.  Either way, I prefer not taking Adderall when I don’t think I need to, and therefore, I don’t take it that often.  Thus, my blog is left to collect e-dust while I scarf down entire bags of chips and play video games.

However, there is one side effect that I find incredibly beneficial.  I have quite a few mental illnesses, anxiety being one of the big ones, but lately I’ve developed a panic disorder that rules over my life with an iron fist.  An iron fist that punches me so hard in the stomach that I feel like I have to puke.  I started getting full-on panic attacks just a few months ago in November.  I was driving my friend home from the airport when Mapquest royally fucked me in the tailpipe and gave me a direction that didn’t even exist.  Now, I don’t drive on expressways because they scare the shit out of me, so I had the directions made up without any expressways.  However, the only way out of the airport, apparently, is to take the expressway straight to where you need to be, even though you can get to the airport without any expressways.  Long story short, I ended up in downtown Rochester, parked next to a church at the corner of Getoutofthecar Avenue and Givemeallyourmoney Boulevard, breathing heavily and frantically calling my parents to come direct me home.

There’s a chemical in Adderall that actually stops these panic attacks from happening, but again, I only take Adderall when I think I need to, and how was I supposed to know I’d end up stranded in one of the scariest parts of Rochester?

I’ll share another panicky experience with you now.  I drove out to Webster to spend the night at my friend Jared’s house a couple of weeks ago.  Normally, the winter weather in Rochester leaves the roads caked with ice and snow and other slippery stuff, but when I drove over there, the roads were salted and dried, so I had nothing to worry about.  However, the next day, Jared and I tagged along with his mother and sister over to Target.  When we got there, the sun was shining and there was absolutely no clouds in the sky, so I knew I had nothing to worry about.

Apparently, one hour of shopping is all it took for a fucking BLIZZARD to roll in, coat every road with a thick, slippery layer of snow, and lower visibility to the point where you couldn’t even see more than 5 feet in front of your car.

Now, my drive home from Jared’s house takes about a half hour in good weather and is made up of a system of nice, quiet back roads.  But when the expressways are backed up from bad weather, where do you think those cars go?  The same goddamn route I take home, that’s where they go.  So not only could I not see more than 5 feet in front of my car, which would be slipping and sliding all the way home, but there would also be plenty of other cars for me to glide straight into.

I was obviously worried.

This panic attack was so bad that I actually ended up having to completely disrespect Jared’s toilet by vomiting up everything that I had eaten so far that day, which was a vile combination of a mocha frappuccino, a double cheeseburger from Five Guys, and guava juice.

You’re welcome. c:

I was left with no other option but to call my dad to come drive me home and leave my car at Jared’s house to be picked up the next day by my sister.  On the way home, I sat in the fetal position in the passenger seat while my dad tried reasoning with my panic disorder, saying things like “The roads aren’t that bad,” and “You’ve driven in the snow before.”  None of it really helped, though, as I clutched the seat and braced for impact every time he made a turn.

Here’s where the story gets interesting.  We were pretty close to finally returning home when my mom called my dad’s cell phone.  My dad’s car has a Bluetooth setup where if someone calls his cell phone, all he needs to do is push a button on the radio and start talking.  The person on the other end can be heard through the speakers in the car, so I could hear the entire conversation.  It went a little something like this…

Mom: “Hey, did you pick up Adam yet?”

Dad: “Yeah, he’s right here.  We’re on our way home.”

Mom: “Okay.  Where are you right now?”

Dad: “We just turned at the four corners of Penfield.”

Mom: “Oh, okay, so you’re pretty close.”

Dad: “I’m not stopping.”

Mom: “…I wasn’t going to ask you to stop anywhere.”

Dad: “I’m not stopping!”

Mom: “What are you talking about?”

What was happening was my dad’s car was going downhill, heading towards a stoplight with a line of cars in front of him, and his tires had lost traction with the road due to the snow.  We glided straight into the back of the car in front of us.

Luckily, no real damage was done to either car, so there was no reason to call the police for a report.  After talking to the guy for a minute or two, my dad hopped back into the car and drove us home.

Now, I’d like you to think back to what he was telling me earlier.  ”The roads aren’t that bad.”  Yet my father, one of the greatest drivers I’ve ever known, managed to get into an accident.  So, alongside my fear of driving in bad weather (which had just been reassured), I now had to deal with the fact that my dad had attempted to deceive me into feeling better, and thus, everything he says to comfort me from now on will be considered a LIE and will be disregarded immediately.

Needless to say, I can’t wait for Spring to come and melt away the snow and ice so that I can drive again without as many things to worry about.

So please, drive safely out there.  Go a little slower than normal and use the proper amount of caution in your actions on the road.  It’ll make people like me feel a lot safer and more willing to leave the house.

As much as I love posting on my blog, I can’t seem to get myself to post that often.  Last time I posted something, I was half way through my second semester of my freshman year of college.  Now, I’m a sophomore.  Holy damn, I need to post more often.

But yes, as I just mentioned, this is my second year of college.  It’s not that big of a deal, though.  I still live at home and I still barely have a social life, so I suppose I’m a college student without any of the qualities that make being a college student fun.  But I honestly don’t care about that, since I’m happy that my life is the way it is right now.  There’s been a few changes since my last post (though they won’t come as a surprise to my 2 or 3 readers).  First of all, school’s back in session.  Now, I know that doesn’t sound like something to be happy about, but I’m actually kind of glad to be back in school.  School gives me something to do with my week, instead of laying around doing nothing.  Summer isn’t all that great once you realize that you have no social life and every day is a stay-at-home vacation.  Y’know, the kind that mothers and old people take when they just want some time to themselves.  ”I’m just gonna go home, grab a Light Yoplait out of the fridge, pop season 1 of The Office into the DVD player and just relax.  OH, DWIGHT, YOU GIVE MY LIFE MEANING!”  It gets kind of monotonous after a while.  Luckily, I had my friends Kayleen, Jared, Nathaniel, and “The Gang” (group of friends that tend to do things together: Megan, Brennan, Jesse, Susan, and Carolyn) to help pull me out of my summer coma on several awesome occasions.  There’s a reason I say I’d go crazy if I didn’t have my friends, and I think everyone else feels the same way.

But school is here again, and summer has gone into hibernation.  Although the biggest problem with going back to school (at least for me) is that I still have yet to figure out what I wish to do with my life.  Everyone who reads my blog (all 3 of you) knows that I enjoy writing.  Poetry has to be my favorite, but I occasionally write a short story here and a one-act play there.  But the problem with writing is that I really have to be in the mood to write, and it’s not like I can get into that mood whenever I please.  The conditions have to be just right; time, silence, state of mind, even weather is a factor sometimes, and I can’t write whenever I feel like it.  Writers have deadlines, just like everyone else, and if there’s one thing that I can’t stand, it’s deadlines.  Time limits will be the death of me.  No, seriously.  Time limits will kill me some day.  I mean, figuratively speaking, my life has a time limit, right?  So once that runs out, I’ll be dead.  Don’t argue with me, I feel like I’m on a roll.

And then there’s the income, which is almost inexistent for the contemporary poet.  Not many people know this, but poets don’t make money off of poetry.  Even getting your poem put into a popular literary magazine will only get you a dollar or two (probably more than that but not by much).  Poets can’t live off of publication.  They live off of presentation.  To actually make money as a poet, you have to travel the country, speaking to audiences in various colleges and communities, which will only happen if you become recognized.  And even then, the income isn’t all that desirable.  Most contemporary poets not only write and speak, but they teach as well.  I don’t have the patience to write, speak, and teach.  I don’t want to be a freaking college professor.  If I say I want to become a writer, that means I want to become a WRITER, not a professor.  So I suppose being a poet is out of the question.  Maybe as a side job, but certainly not as a career choice.

Then there’s short stories and novels, and those both take patience and a LOT of planning out and mapping.  I’ve written short stories before, and they’re not easy to make.  When most people think of short stories, they think of a story that takes up a maximum of 3 pages.  No.  That’s not the case.  Not if you want to be a serious writer.  Most real short stories are a minimum of 5 pages.  Some will even stretch past 15.  Holy crap, that’s practically like writing an essay, and we all know comes with writing essays: DEADLINES.

And then there’s playwriting and screen writing, which are sometimes even more difficult to make than short stories.  Besides, I like theatre, but only as an actor or audience member.  All of the other roles in the creation of a play just turn me off.

So, I’ll still keep writing, but not as a job.

And by the way, I have no problem with difficulty.  I know I can’t expect things to be easy to obtain, and I’m okay with that.  I’m just impatient.  That’s the biggest problem here.

I’ve gotten a few suggestions from people as to what I should be.  Lots of people think I should be a comedian, which I suppose I could see myself doing.  The only problem with that is that I’m not the kind of guy who can sit down and write jokes.  I’ve tried that already, and the jokes I come up with are usually drawn out with weak punch lines.  I’m better at coming up with stuff off the top of my head.  That’s where I can really generate laughs, and improv stand up isn’t the most marketable form of comedy out there.  I’ll still consider it an option, though.

Another thing I’ve heard is that I should be a political commentator, like Rush Limbaugh or Bill O’Reily or Keith Olbermann, which I suppose I might be able to do.  However, as usual, there is a problem with that.  Has anyone noticed what the political media has shaped itself to be nowadays?  On one side, we have liberals, who I tend to agree with more often than not.  But first of all, for some reason, liberal commentators have problems with generating audiences, probably because their majority demographic is well-educated young adults who are interested in the world of politics, which doesn’t provide the biggest audience.  Take Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews, for example.  Two of the biggest and most popular liberal commentators in America, and just look at their viewership; it pales in comparison to the audiences of Fox News commentators.  Second, liberal commentators are generally not very respected, no matter how fair their commentary may be.  If I’m going to be a commentator, I don’t want to be just another one of the dozens of heavily biased news anchors that the world can do without.  I would rather be as fair as I can be, stating my opinion but leaving plenty of room for the opinions of others.  But even then, I would be criticized and ridiculed from every direction on a daily basis.

Then there’s conservative commentators, who I don’t even want to be associated with.  It’s not because of their opinions, it’s because of their reasoning.  Conservative commentators tend to be angry, close-minded people who REFUSE to support anyone with even the slightest liberal beliefs, and why?  Simply because they’re liberals.  That’s all it takes.  If you don’t agree with a conservative commentator, then you are the enemy.  Take Rush Limbaugh, for example.  When Haiti was hit with an earthquake, President Obama stated that he would help support the relief effort in any way he could and stated that the American people should do the same, which by the way, is EXACTLY what John McCain would have done if he were elected, and is EXACTLY what George W. Bush did when the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami struck Indonesia and parts of India.  To the rest of us, it seemed like a level-headed decision and the overall right thing to do.  To Rush, it was a shameless attempt to garner respect from the American public.  That’s right.  Helping Haiti recover from a devastating earthquake was nothing more than an attempt to make President Obama look good.

So count me out of that.

But I suppose I still have some time to decide what I want to do, and I’ll decide eventually.

Wow, this is a long post.  I hope it’s not too long for some people to want to read.

Anyway, for now, I’ll have to continue bagging groceries and making minimum wage, which is a job that I snagged in mid August.  But I’ve only had the job for a few weeks, so I don’t have much to say about it.  I’ll speak more about it eventually, but now I need to head to my first class of the day: International Politics.  Yay.

…God, I’m such a pessimist.  But hey, there’s probably a bright side somewhere.  I’m just too lazy to search for it.

Have I mentioned that I’m on academic probation?

I didn’t do so well last semester, dropping my GPA into a less-than-favorable average.  This being the case, I haven’t been able to focus on much other than my academics this semester, so socially speaking, nothing happened.

I did apply for several jobs, though.  Only one place called me: Cold Stone Creamery.

To get called back by Cold Stone Creamery is no real accomplishment; if you sign an application, you get an interview no matter what.  The reason why is because Cold Stone doesn’t really “interview” applicants; they hold “auditions.”  These are group interviews where everyone who has applied has to do some crazy things in front of the manager and a few employees.  Singing, showing off a talent, and more singing.  As corny as it sounds, it was actually a lot of fun, and being a local college student with no obligations other than homework, I felt that I had a pretty good chance of getting the job.

Maybe I was wrong; the interview was two weeks ago, and I haven’t been called or notified by Cold Stone at all.  I called in during their hours of operation and no one answered the phone, so I left a voice message, asking them to call me back.  That hasn’t happened yet, either.  I think it’s safe to say that I didn’t get the job.

I desperately need a job.  I’m tired of using my parents’ money, and they feel the same way.  I need my own money for books and food and gas.  Damn this flimsy job market.

Oh, I almost forgot.  Last time, I mentioned that I hadn’t been to my Japanese 101 class yet.  Well, after half a semester, I can say that Japanese is my favorite class.  The professor is a sweet Japanese woman with an adorable personality.  The class is challenging, but it’s also really fun.  So far, I’ve got an A or maybe an A+ in that class, so I don’t have to worry too much about it.  I just need to continue doing what I’ve been doing.

I’m taking a college composition class as well, which is what I worry most about.  I hate this class.  The subject matter is BORING, and the professor is a young woman with a really bad attitude.  I can’t stand her.  She shouldn’t even be a college professor, she’d do better as a high school teacher.  She rarely ever knows what she’s talking about, she doesn’t know what true writing is, and she’s incredibly biased against men.

It makes me so angry, I can barely think straight.

Wow, this post really sucks.  I apologize to anyone who was expecting something interesting, I guess I just have a lot on my mind.

But it’s Monday, the start of a new week.  Next week is Spring Break for me, so at least I have something to look forward to.

Oh, I almost forgot!  Today’s Monday, which means a new hour of Restart from Checkpoint, an internet radio broadcast on WRUR: the Sting, hosted by my friend Nathaniel.  On his show, he devotes an entire hour to the music of video games.  He’s very knowledgeable about everything he plays, and the music is pretty awesome.  His show is from 8:00 to 9:00 PM, check it out!

http://thesting.wrur.org/program/restart-from-checkpoint-the-music-video-games

Just click the “Listen in your browser” link on the right of the page at around 8:00 PM to have a listen.

But anyway, I should get going; I have a paper to work on for my bitchy teacher and her bullshit class.  So until next time, fuck you, I’m trying to save the world.

Yes, it’s a new semester for 13th grade.  Brand new classes and brand new expectations, which lead to brand new disappointments.  I’m sitting here in the MCC cafeteria, with my cup of vanilla pudding and my bottle of Sobe fruit punch, thinking to myself about what I should expect from this semester.  More arguements with mom?  More all-night papers?  More breaks?  Luckily, I already know the answer to that last one.  The difference between this semester and last semester is that last semester had NO BREAKS.  Let me repeat that.  NO.  BREAKS.  No week-longs, no 3 day weekends, no single day breaks, nothing but the mandatory Christmas break.  This semester, however, calls for a February break and a Spring Break, both week-long breaks, which are nice to have once in a while, especially for college students.  They relieve a bit of stress and stop us from going COMPLETELY BATSHIT INSANE.

My classes for this semester go as follows: 

College Composition, Contemporary Poetry, Elementary Japanese I, Geology I, and The U.S. Congress.

The ones I look forward to the most are Japanese and Contemporary Poetry.  I haven’t been to Japanese yet, so I can’t say much about it, but I have been to Contemporary Poetry.  I have it on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  It’s an 80 minute class and the professor talks.  A lot.  A lot a lot.

First days are supposed to be short!  All professors are supposed to do are explain the syllabi and send you on your merry way.  That shouldn’t take 80 minutes, right?  Well, my Contemporary Poetry professor had a grand old time spending 80 minutes talking about the syllabus and anything else he could talk about.  He’s a nice guy, and he’s very funny, but he talks incredibly fast, so you’d think he’d run out of stuff to talk about.  But I have a feeling if someone hadn’t told him that 80 minutes had passed, he would have talked for at least 3 more hours.  Holy crap, it was boring.  I like poetry, especially more modern stuff, which is what contemporary poetry is supposed to be, but I don’t want to talk about it for 80 fraking minutes.

A few weeks before classes began, I looked him up on ratemyprofessor.com.  Mostly good reviews with pleasant comments, but one word that seemed to pop up all over the place was “socialist.”  That was the majority description for him.  Apparently, he’s incredibly liberal and doesn’t care who knows it.  I thought teachers were supposed to remain non-partisan in their lectures, but he has a problem with that.  Although, he’s been teaching for something like 30 years, so I guess if he hasn’t been fired for it yet, then he’s going to be fine.

I don’t have a problem with this guy, I’m just not used to using up an entire 80 minutes listening to rapid speech.  I need a bit of movement.  I was practically born in a rocking chair, so I can’t be told to sit in a stationary seat and be expected to enjoy staying there for almost an hour and a half.  I’ve taken 80 minute classes before, but the professors wouldn’t necessarily use the entire time.  They’d normally let us out early.  So after getting used to early dismissals, it’s difficult to now have to sit for more than an hour doing nothing but listening to this man talk.  I just hope, for sanity’s sake, that he makes the class more interesting than he did today.  If I have to return week after week to listen to that kind of crap, then I’m not going to have a fun time fulfilling my literature requirement.

Well, I should probably head to Japanese now.  I’d like to see how that turns out.  I’ll just finish my pudding first.

Y’know, the weird thing about this pudding cup is that it comes with one of those dome tops, but the dome is actually closed in at the bottom.  It’s got a bunch of vanilla wafers in it that I really want, but I can’t seem to take the bottom off of the dome.  I don’t want to take it off with my teeth, because then everyone here will remember me as “that kid who buys pudding cups just to gnaw on the plastic.”  Whatever.  I’ll get it open eventually.

I’m sitting in one of the student lounges again, accompanied by a Shot in the Dark, which is a drink from Java’s.  It’s hot chocolate with a shot of espresso, and I stupidly ordered an extra shot.  I can only blame myself for how bitter the drink is, and for taking a sip right away, burning away the majority of my taste buds.  But I really needed that double shot; I’m so tired today.  I thought I got a good night’s sleep, but I was wrong.  I woke up this morning, got a shower, got dressed, had breakfast, everything without a single problem.  But when I got into the car, I made the mistake of leaning my seat backwards.  I had about a half an hour of rest (no sleep, just rest) in the car ride to school, and my body didn’t want to wake up from that rest.  I sat through Statistics class, half asleep, trying to take notes.  The weird part was that my left eye kept wanting to close, but my right eye was fine.  And as soon as I closed my left eye, I could focus a little better.  Maybe half of my brain was falling asleep.  I don’t know.  I heard ducks can do that.

Anyway, I’ve been incredibly busy lately with schoolwork.  I had a paper to do for my art class, where I had to go to the Memorial Art Gallery and choose a painting to analyze and compare with a painting from our textbook.  I saw the “Paint Made Flesh” exhibit, which I had only heard bad things about before seeing it.  But it really wasn’t that bad.  Some of the stuff there was unnecessarily gruesome, but most of it was okay.  There were two paintings that really caught my eye: a painting by a German painter (which I forget the title of) and a painting by Jenny Saville, called “Hyphen”.  I wrote about “Hyphen” mostly because of the way it pulled me in and didn’t let me go.  There’s something wrong with that painting, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.  I stood there for several minutes, staring at this huge painting of two girls, trying to figure out what was disgusting me, but I really couldn’t find it.  I think that was Jenny’s intention, to paint something inexplicably disturbing.  I still have no idea what was wrong with that-OH GOD!  FUCK COLLEGE RADIO!

I’ve just been Rick Rolled by the P.A. in the lounge.  Dammit.  That’s low.  I didn’t even have a chance to escape.

Something about that Rick Roll just threw off my thinking process completely.  I can’t even think of anything else to say. 

Uhhh…The holidays are coming up.  I could talk about them.  I really have no idea what I want for Christmas this year.  I wanted a video camera but that’s out of the question apparently.  I just need some kind of idea.  How about a publisher?  I’d like to get some of my poetry out there, I just don’t know how. 

Okay, I’m officially too tired and too braindead to continue typing.  Goodnight, New York.

Students come into MCC high all the time, so this was no surprise.  But it was nonetheless amusing.  I mean, they weren’t acting paranoid or explaining to each other how the popularity of the Black Jack Taco was a result of affirmative action.  They were just waiting, talking, chuckling… Apparently, they had experience in being high in public and knew how to hide it fairly well.  Unfortunately, this was not the case for the guy who walked up to me a minute later.  This guy was noticeably high, with red eyes and speech that seemed like it couldn’t get an answer fast enough. 

“Yo, is this the, um, is this the line?  This the line?”

“Yeah.”

He walked to the back of the line, waiting restlessly for it to move, and it didn’t take long before he left.  It seems like pot alters one’s perception of time so that a minute seems like 3.  That explains why some people get impatient when they’re high. 

Anyway, the guys in front of me finally got to the cashier and made their ridiculously huge order, which was probably just for the two of them.  After that, I lost interest and stopped paying attention.

I really don’t understand why some people find it necessary to show up to school high.  I can’t imagine how it would help them in any way.  Why can’t the toking wait until after school, where you don’t end up looking like a sketchball in public? 

Wow, is that all I really had to talk about?  I can’t think of anything else to say. 

I guess I could talk about college talk radio, since that’s what seems to be currently plaguing the Starry Nites lounge.  No matter how hard I try, I just CAN’T find interest in a broadcasted conversation that I could easily encounter in the hallway.  And the fact that they bring in a bunch of burnouts to talk about this crap doesn’t help it become any more interesting.  It’s all so incredibly boring.  I don’t mind hearing people’s opinions, but at least include a bit of personality and humor.  Otherwise, you might as well fart into the back end of a hairdryer and blow it into a crowd of unwilling people.

And once they finally reach the end of their “segment,” they turn it over to some equally boring DJ who starts playing the crap on his iPod, thinking that everyone else will enjoy it just as much as he does.  So as soon as you’re done listening to a bunch of monotone voices talk about the balloon kid for the 1500th time, guess what?  Now you get to listen to an hour of Bjork’s greatest hits!

No thank you.

Now, I don’t want people thinking that I always sound this cynical, but sometimes people need to be a bit more conscious of the world around them and not just of themselves and their cliques, because for those of us who ARE aware of the people around us, we definitely notice how idiotic those people make themselves seem.  So drop the weed, get yourself a personality transplant, and start paying attention.

If I were him, I would have phrased it a little differently.  Y’know, like, “Anyone want some meatloaf or some cheesecake?”  Using the word “and” makes the two separate dishes sound combined, so I was understandably not the only person who seemed a bit confused.  But I chuckled anyway, since I’m already in such a good mood.  It just seems like one of those days that deserves a smile out of me.

At the beginning of my first class of the day, Creative Writing, a kid in the front of my row was humming quietly to himself.  Well, at least he thought he was being quiet.  Because I certainly heard him.  But I ignored it, organizing my papers and folders and books for the start of class.  However, even though I thought I was ignoring it, I was actually listening subconsciously.  It didn’t take long before I recognized what song he was humming: Epona’s Song, from the Legend of Zelda series.  I can’t really explain it, but it made me feel happy.  Maybe it was because I realized at that moment that I’m not the only dork in the class.  I didn’t want to say anything, though, because if I spoke, I might make myself the only NOTICABLE dork in the class. 

I suddenly heard the chair next to me squeak with the movement of its occupant.  Kyle Kalish, who sits next to me in this class (and is actually a nice guy, so I thought he deserved having his name mentioned in here just in case he googles his name and finds it here, and if that’s actually the case, then HI KYLE!) leaned over to me.  “Do you hear that kid humming?”  He was whispering so that the kid himself couldn’t hear us. 

“Yeah, I think he’s humming Epo-”

“He’s humming a song from Legend of Zelda.”

“…Yeah, Epona’s Song, right?”

He smirked.  “You know it?”

“Yeah, it took me a few seconds to recognize it.”

Again, I really can’t explain it, but I suddenly became even happier.  I guess I just enjoy knowing that I’m not the only one who has forgotten one of the greatest songs from that particular series.  I don’t know.  It just brings back such pleasant memories.

After class, I headed to the Taco Bell Express up in the cafeteria.  I ordered the normal chicken quesadilla, but this time I got something extra: the Black Jack Taco.  It sounded interesting, so I thought I’d try it out.

And I still haven’t eaten it.  So I figure I’ll just eat it now and explain the experience to everyone who actually reads this.  Give me a moment.

…

Wow.  I wish that lasted longer.  I’m pleasantly surprised.  I think the pepperjack sauce is what really did it for me.

Anyway, I know this day won’t continue in such a cheery fashion.  As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be happy until 3:20, when my Modern Art class ends and I have to look forward to another hour of driving with Gary.  Gary is my driving instructor for these one-on-one lessons I have with the Rochester Rehabilitation Center.  Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very nice guy.  But if I have to hear about how old some of the stuff in his house is one more time, I swear I’ll drive straight into a stop sign.  I just can’t focus with him constantly talking about stuff I could really care less about.

But I guess that won’t necessarily ruin my day, it’ll just make it less favorable.  After all, there are worse things than spending one hour in a boring driver’s lesson.  I mean, at least I’m not Nancy Grace’s panties or something.  (I promised myself I’d fit Nancy Grace somewhere into this post.)

Now, normally I would have ended my post with that last paragraph, but I just realized that I haven’t said anything crazy yet.  I’m going to try and make that a goal from now on, so that everytime someone reads one of my posts, they’re guarenteed to get at least one well-deserved moment of confusion.  So here we go:

Anyone want some meatloaf and cheesecake?

Ooh, I have a great idea.  As an added bonus, I’ll conclude with one of my favorite quotes from Texts from Last Night (http://www.textsfromlastnight.com):

(678): stop calling my apartment porn island.

I’ve been thinking about creating a blog for quite some time now.  I never really wanted one of those lame MSN-hosted blogs that is impossible just to GET to, let alone show people.  I wanted something a little simpler, which is why I chose Word Press.  So the first thing I’d like to say is my thanks go to Word Press.

Now, in a rapidly changing world, constantly bothered by my rapidly changing mind and rapidly changing moods, I’ve found one thing to be constant: writing always helps.  No matter what mood I’m in, whether it be a particularly silly mood or a frustrated/upset mood, I write to alleviate the little jittery feelings I get that make me want to pull some random person aside and tell them my life story.  But I’ve found that writing through journals and diaries and other private almanacs (I promised myself I would fit the word “almanac” into this post somewhere) really only helps me get to understand myself in a non-social perspective.  Which really should be the same for everyone.  Let’s say you wrote an entry in a diary and then typed a post in a blog.  The diary would obviously be for your eyes only, while the blog is open to examination and interpretation of all kinds of friends and/or relatives.  Your language would differ greatly between the two; blogs force you to write in a way that can be understood by people other than yourself.  Which might help me afterall.  I’m not saying I’m anti-social, I’m just not GOOD at being social. 

…What point was I trying to make?

Fuck if I know. 

Anyway, being a creative writer, I’ve always had my creative ideas and quotes and such that I wished I could spread out to others, making my words gain a bit of popularity.  Which brings me to the title of the blog: The Canvas in the Never-Corner.  An odd title for a blog, yes, but original nonetheless.  The title actually comes from a poem that I made during my Senior year of highschool, entitled “I’ve Been Me”.  The poem itself is one of my least favorite creations, and the title kinda sucked too.  But there were two lines that I wrote that I thought were pure genius: “You’ve only seen the shell, Not the infinite design upon the canvas in the never-corner.”  Those two lines sprouted a lot of great ideas: an independent portfolio, a novel about certain aspects of my life…lots of great ideas.  Great ideas that I would never be able to fulfill.

How the hell am I supposed to stay focused on a novel, anyway?  And portfolios can take years.  So, I figured, I might as well not waste such a great line.  Thus, the title for my blog was born.  And now that I actually have one, maybe I can get my writing back on track.  But this blog won’t be just about my writing; it’ll be a way to let people know how insane I can be. 

If you were one of my close friends, you’d know that I really can’t go five minutes without saying something completely out of the blue.

So, grab a snack, a nice hot cup of hot chocolate, a hot date, maybe find a hotspot, and get ready for the sexiest blog in town, Jeremey.