i am getting so tired of crying. and not sleeping. and not eating. and looking like i just came out of a concentration camp. and being a completely useless waste of skin to everyone around me. and being just the worst human being on the face of the planet. at Baylor, i still feel this, but at least there i have more than one person i tell these things to. everyone here just reminds me of why i'm a worthless, sorry, absolutely dysfunctional, fucked up, moronic, horrible, mean, cruel, uncaring, cowardly, lying, just downright awful son of a bitch who really has no reason to live, and would only benefit the earth by relieving it of his presence. sigh, only 32 more days...

I should be ASLEEP!

     So yes, it is now 4:08 am, I should most definitely be asleep; I should have been asleep 4 hours ago when i first touched my head to my pillow. And at that time, I was exhausted. Hell, I may have even gotten a 15 minute power nap in. But then I woke back up, and there was no going back, I had broken that magic spell that sleep casts and all of my problems rushed back in. 
     However, that's the thing, what the hell are these problems I speak of? WELL SHOOT, I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE!! Because, as I sit here and go through my present life, I have no rational problems to be fretting over, at least comparatively. I mean, there are finals, which I know I over-exaggerate the importance of. I take test anxiety to a whole new level. Lemme lay it out for you. This is what, more or less, it's a bit watered down, was running through my head before my Biology final today:


I fail said test ---> my parents, namely the father, find out and realize that I'm a giant waste of time and revoke my college money and kick me out of the house ---> me losing both my college education and any sort of life I had at Baylor because all my friends there would come to the same conclusion my parents did and discontinuing association with me/my home friends, which are already on the low side, would pretty much be able to do nothing ---> me being left with no way to support myself and no place to go, so I die in a ditch somewhere, no one caring any more or less.


     Now I know that this is the stupidest thing ever. And this is the watered down version. Even I could go through and point out the severe flaw with believing any of these steps, but for the past couple of days, and the couple of days before my next finals (which is, hey!, now), these thoughts and possibilities seem completely possible and the most likely to happen. And I also threw up before my Bio final today. Lovely, right?
     This may seem like a problem, but honestly, what college student is not going through the same thing that I'm going through? Maybe not to this degree, maybe so, who am I to say I know, but basically the same situations, right? Right. So, this problem is nothing spectacular or extraordinarily horrible, just a normal problem...so, moving on.
     Um, friends. Oh Lord, friends. Anything that goes minutely wrong in any one of my friendships nowadays is blown so far out of proportion that I think i actually risk further and more severe damage to the friendship than the theoretical damage could have caused. So I go around, treading on eggshells near my friends, afraid of something going wrong, because at this point, when it comes to friends, I just could not handle losing one. Not again. Not now...well, maybe a minor friend, but there are 5 or 6 people here that, if any one of them got mad at me, control would be absolutely lost for me. Because right now, I care a whole lot more about my friends than I do for myself, I judge myself based on my friendships, which I also seem intent on destroying because I keep doing stupid stuff that endangers them, or at least they do in my psychotic, altered view on reality. 
     And here lies the problem. Or it should, anyways. I believe it does, but I have also received confirmation from all of those 5 or 6 people that nothing is wrong and they still love me and yatta yatta yatta...see now I feel horrible for saying yatta yatta yatta instead of actual things, like those important things mean absolutely nothing to me. Oh my GOD I need medication. 
     And then there's the whole gay thing, which was going fine, until an Earth shattering blow rocked the structure that was my shred of self-confidence. See, my friend Morgan doesn't really like the whole homosexual thing. She tells me she loves me no less, but the way she acts sometimes, I mean, it's really hard for me to believe. The other night, she asks me to explain bisexuality for her, and I just kind of gave her this disbelieving stare, and was like, ummm, no can do? I mean, just because we're all different from you doesn't mean we're really different. I mean, why do you like penis? Why do straight men like vagina? Why do bisexuals like both? How the fuck am I fucking supposed to know?! It was like she threw homosexuals, bi, whatever, into a category that was below her because, and I quote, her liking penis and a guy liking penis "is not the same thing." Well, detail oriented, no, but concept wise, eeeehh yea kind of it is. If you can't explain it, what the hell makes you think I will? 
     And then tonight...oh whatever you know what I'm talking about. Anywho, my friend Ryan and I played a joke on her where we kissed each other good night (Ryan's straight btw, heh) in her room. The original plan was just in front of her, but we ended up in her room, so whatever. Now, I expected the normal amount of freak out, I actually had ten bucks saying she would pass out, but it was like, after she saw it, I was a leper. She wouldn't touch me, wouldn't look at me, and, while I must reiterate, this was a rather cruel joke, I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit insulted. I mean, just because I touch you after kissing a guy does not mean you are marked for hell, it doesn't work that way. And if it does in your head, seek help. But now I believe she's mad at me, which makes me mad at myself because it goes back to the whole friend paragraph above. See that again.
     So, again, no real problems to speak of. Only pseudo problems that I create and have no real life value. So that begs the question: why in the motherfuck do I feel so unhappy? I just...for once, I would love to know what the hell is wrong with me, because I obviously don't want to be happy because I don't try to be happy, I just sit in my stench and stew because life sucks, but in reality, or so it seems to me, it's all my fault, I'm the one to blame, and damn me for saying anything else. 
     Sigh. I now sit here, crying, which is all I seem to do when I'm alone in my room these days, listening to Firework by Katy Perry, kind of hoping that if I listen to the song enough, the lyrics will come true. And of course I have to be alone in my room, because I can't cry in front of anyone else, because I promised myself on that day...well, that would take a whole nother hour to go through. Suffice to say that there is a lot of stuff that I left out of this post, but Kyle, you get to hear all of this in person. You just have to roundhouse kick me in the face to get it out of me, otherwise you ain't gonna hear it. So really, this is up to you. I won't think any less of you if you just look at this and go bitch pleeze, because even I don't wanna hear about my problems. 
     On a side note, the people above me must be having some sort of kinky sex because those thumps are not normal thumps. 

Omnipotence Kicks Ass

     I truly don't understand how God does it. I know I'm not supposed to know, but it would be a really cool trick to learn. I know, I know, BLASPHEMY!! But admit it, you've thought about it too. Just the idea of being able to experience every. single. thing. that goes on in the universe at the same time, and then also have a say or be able to interject your will over any event that goes on would be, needless to say, the single most kick ass thing ever. 


     But the reason I say this is, not because I have some sick delusion that I will ever obtain this power, no matter how much I wish, but because God always seems to be able to skew things just that certain way, every single fucking time. No matter what personal crisis I'm going through, no matter what the event is, big or small, subtle or just a big ole slap to the face, He always seems to get his point across, and gets it across good. 


     All us Baylor kids may groan at the thought of Chapel, I myself included, but we should never, ever, doubt that God is there amongst us at every single time we all gather in that hall. He finds a way to speak to us, whether we want to be spoken to or not, whether you feel as though you deserve to be spoken to or not. Now, I'm not gonna be a fucking hypocrite and sit here and say that everyone is equal in His eyes and blah blah blah. I sure as hell would love to believe that, and maybe deep down, I do. But I also believe in a Hell, and really, if you think about it long and hard, the two ideologies don't mesh together real well. 


     Ah, but my religious rants can be saved for another time. Faith is just one of the many things that seem to be falling apart in my life, and God hasn't showed me anything about it yet, so I have no wisdom to impart on the subject. All I do know is, well, damn. Chapel today was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. And I don't mean the content was scary or anything, it's just, it was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears. I have this rule, that I do not cry in front of people, you know, for those of you who are less wary of sharing your emotions than I am. 


     Seriously though, I have been thinking about going and seeing a counselor here on campus for several weeks now, and the past week has seen my determinacy to go fade a whole fucking lot. And just this morning, I hit that point where I had an excuse for every possible reason that I could think of not to go. And that probably would have been the end of it. But what happened in Chapel today? The head guy from the counselling department of Baylor comes and talks to us about how important it is for us to recognize the signs of suicide and how help is the best way to get better.


     ...well fuck me sideways.  


     I literally just sat there for the 30 or so minutes that this guy talked, shaking like a leaf, and using all of my energy to just keep it together. It...I just...I was simply dumbfounded, and still am to this moment. I mean, it's not everyday that God kicks your ass into reality and gives you a good stern talking to. 


    Now, this part is going to sound sappy, but it's gotta be said. As soon as I got out of the building, the tears just came, and there was no stopping them. The only thing I could do was get to a spot where I could be alone, or at least think. So I made it to the benches on Founders Mall, and just let em come. When I had calmed down a little bit, I was sitting there, being generally miserable, when this group of girls came up to the bench across from me and put a little foam bear on it, and walked away. I had no idea what the hell it was, or why they put it there. All I knew is that I, for whatever reason, really wanted it. I didn't move, and wasn't planning on going over and getting it, why? I really don't know. But this is where it gets to the supernatural. After about 15 minutes of me just sitting and staring at this bear, the wind picked up. Not like hurricane force or anything like that, but it was stronger than it had been the rest of the time I was sitting out there...and it was blowing right at the bear. This sounds retarded when I type it up, but...at that moment, I just felt so at peace, so happy, for the first time in a long time.


     Turns out the bear was a promotional for the counselling center that they handed out after the talk in Chapel. 


     God's a great guy, aint He?

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

     Welp, it may have actually finally happened. There may be an explanation to whatever the hell is wrong with me. As was suggested to me earlier today...yesterday, it could be very possible that I am afflicted with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, or GAD. And after reading a little bit on it, and by a little I mean the WebMD and Wikipedia articles on the disorder, I have this to say: it would explain a whole fucking lot about a fucking ton of shit!
     Let me give you a quick rundown of some of the symptoms according to Wikipedia: fatigue, not every single day, but a whole hell of a lot of the time; fidgeting, look at me closely next time, I'm mostly likely doing something with my hands or feet; headaches, got em; nausea, got it, a lot more than I would like; sweating, you don't even wanna know; and then there are some others that apply to me and a couple that don't. 
     It makes a pretty strong case. I mean, the more I read about it, the more I can say 'holy shit, that is so me!' But, of course, because it can't let even one thing rest as it is, there is always that STUPID little voice that's telling me that, because I'm recognizing the possibility that I have this disorder, then I don't have it. Isn't that true? If an 'insane' person admits that they are insane then they aren't really insane? Although, now that I think about it, there has to have been a serial killer somewhere along the way that has gone 'now wait a minute, what I'm doing just isn't what normal people do. now why could that be?' 
     But even if it isn't GAD, there simply has to be something wrong with me. If what I go through on a daily basis is what the rest of humanity goes through on a daily basis as well, then I just may begin to preach  the whole 'earth is the only hell' thing, because...I mean, there's just no way. I'm not trying to belittle anyone else's problems in any way or anything like that, I'm just saying, being me isn't fun. At all. Friends tell me that everyone has the irrational belief that people hate them from time to time. Alright, I can buy that, but does everyone have the irrational paranoia that everyone, your closest friends, your family, even people that you do not even know, hate you, cannot stand you, but out of pity's sake, they are nice to you? Do they devote hours before going to bed going through conversations they've had during the day  to make sure that they didn't say anything that could possibly have made the other person upset with them? Do they do it while the conversation is going on? Because I do. Every day.
     Does everyone do things to please people, in any way possible, even if people don't tell them to do it? Well, I can't honestly answer that, because I don't know what people do, but I can tell you what I do, and then maybe you can deny me my disease. If I want to please a person, which is usually anyone, anytime, I will go to extreme lengths to do so, even stepping out of my comfort zone and doing things that are completely out of character for me to do. Normally, this does not constitute anything that is physical pain or stuff like that, but it can be extremely emotionally wracking, especially when trying to live up to family expectations. I hear people say that them and their parents are like best friends, and I can't help but envy them. If you were to put mine and my parents' relationship into a quantifiable situation, it would be something like the people who are in each others' life because they have to be. Or, at least it was for me. I don't tell my parents anything about myself. Nothing. Nada. Grades, nope, they could figure them out for themselves. Social life, my mom would just wreck it. Personal life, well, there's really no other excuse other than I'm afraid they would completely reject me because, as hard as it is to believe, as much as I may say I dislike them, they are my parents, and if they don't love me, what hope do I have with anyone else? 
     I'm sure by now, you're thinking 'wow, this jackass is in some serious need of therapy,' and you know what? I'm almost 100% positive that you are correct. But you know what else, unless you wanna be the one to sedate me and then drag me into a therapists office, then you can go shove it in your ear. Because I'm also almost 100% sure that I'm not going to a therapist out of my own free will, I get my pride from my good old dad. So, like I said, I will have to either be sedated or dragged there, kicking and screaming. And when I got there, I would probably play master of the mask, as I have become so accustomed to doing over the years, and just nod my head and say yea, ok, nothing's wrong with me, so shut up. Healthy? Hell no. Realistic? Most certainly. 
     If you can't tell from my diction and tone, I am just a little bit pissed off at the world right now. Everyone is under fire right now, innocent and guilty, god-fearing and atheist, black and white, young and old, rich and poor, dead and alive. But I really can't help it. You see, I have this thing I like to call my 'man period'. Ladies, you know kind of what I'm talking about, and guys, I'm sure you get it too, you just don't admit it or you don't know it yet. Basically what happens is my emotional tolerance for things goes just plain out the window, caused, most likely, by a hormonal imbalance that I don't really care to think about, i simply accept that it's there. But anyways, it's not a regular thing, but definitely a reoccurring thing, and I'm on it now, so put up your forcefields. I'm rapin erybody up in here. 
     My man period matters in this situation because I would most certainly not be posting this kind of thing in a blog post. Usually, this kind of thing would go straight into my journal rather than risk being exposed to the public. However, I'm sitting here at 3:45 in the morning, in the dark, waiting for fucking registration to start, and I really didn't feel like getting my journal and making the effort to write all this shit down. So there you go. Enjoy. Or don't, I really don't give a flying fuck. 

The Friend Department

     Ok, seriously, I'm having trouble in the friend department...and not like 'oh I'm mad at you for like 5 minutes for something stupid that we'll get over with a hug'. No, I'm talking Earth quaking, mind-blowing fury. This kind of foundational issue has not come across my path since...Jesus, it must have been like 6th grade. So, needless to say, I'm more than a little freaked out and am kinda in panic mode right now. 
     It also doesn't help that this is me and my best friend that we're talking about here. And it certainly doesn't help that she may not even realize that I am just absolutely, unbelievably pissed at her. I've tried to make it clear to her that I am without directly telling her because, contrary to popular belief, I am a human being, and I do suffer from a disease called pride. So, I should probably fix that to begin with, but it doesn't change the fact that she is being a complete, absolutely hypocritical bitch. 
     The conversation was one of our usual, a scarcely talkative Facebook chat, initiated by me, as it seems they all are nowadays, but that's a whole other issue. So, I, attempting to abide by my new rule of opening up to people and not hold in my feelings, began to tell her about the suicidal thoughts I have been having since freshman year of high school. Well, damn me and my stupid goals. She flipped a shit, told me to shut up and stop talking, and then got off Facebook. 
     So there I am, shell-shocked by the fact that I was just completely denied by my best friend, and I honestly had no idea what to do. And of course, I chose what was probably the worst thing to do: sent an angry text. I let into her, hell, I even dropped the GD, which for me is a big deal. And being the twisted person that I am, I tried to make her feel bad by making her think that I thought that it was all my fault by apologizing. That backfired horribly with her saying that she didn't wanna talk about stuff like that, which, I can understand, but your my fucking best friend, suck it up and talk. The kicker was when she told me that I should just ignore all this stuff and push it down and it would all go away...that was it. I couldn't do it anymore. I just said goodnight, and any interaction that I've had with her since then has been laced with fury. Unfortunately, I don't think she's picking up on it.
     The sucky thing is that I keep feeling like I did something wrong, because normally, I am the type of person to keep it all inside. But recently, something just snapped, and I know that what I'm doing now is a much better thing for me. But then something like this comes along and happens and it just makes me all the more unsure about the whole thing, which sucks because I actually had my heart into committing to this. So...I really have no idea what's gonna happen with this whole mess. It also sucks that, before this, I had decided to go home this weekend partially to see her...hmmmmmm.
     There's another minor tremor on the radar, but I believe that it will be thinned out fairly soon. But, other than that minuscule blip, pretty much everything in my life is not nearly as scary as it was several days ago. That is really, really good. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still get sad over things and shit like that, but the intensity is no longer smothering. So...first genuinely happy thing I've ever said in a post...score one for me!! 

Cheerful...maybe?

     It always seems that I am in just the God-awful worst mood whenever I decide to blog...there must be some correlation. And it especially sucks today because, for the last 3 hours, I have actually been happy! Of course, that all came crashing down about 30 minutes ago, but seriously, 3 hours must have been a new personal best! But, in celebration of this rare ray of hope, I have decided to post good things and discuss the brighter side of life...so it's gonna be a short post.

     Hmmmm, where to start...um, I haven't failed out of college, I suppose that's good. Ummmm, what else...let's see. I've got awesome friends! But then know who they are, and it would be creepy of me to describe them in a blog, so tough beans. I'm going home this weekend? I don't know if that counts as a good thing or a bad thing...

     And that's pretty much it. Minus all the usual 'I've got 3 meals a day, roof over my head blah, blah, blah' because that usually makes me feel worse. But, there you go. Momentary happiness in my life, yay me.

     

AAAAAAHHHHH!!

     So, this morning, I sat up in bed and was informed by my roommate that there had been a shooting at UT. I got up, walked to my closet, and then felt my brain stem snap in half. I only know about 100 people that go to the University of Texas at Austin, and in my mind, every single one of them was now dead. 
     First, I went through denial. It didn't happen, everything was fine. I was just going to be alright and then go take my Bio Lab test. Then my roommate told me the shooter had used an AK47, and my brain pretty much exploded. Somewhere along the way, I had the piece of mind to get dressed and had put my phone in my pocket, because I whipped it out and immediately started texting everyone on my phone book that went to UT, praying to God that the reports of no one getting shot were true. 
     When I had only heard from 2 out of, like 20 people and I had to go take my test, I knew I was fucked beyond belief. All I could think about was that one of my friends could possibly be in a hospital, or dead, and I had to go assert myself in the form of a Lab test. Oh. Boy.
     It went pretty much as expected. I knew everything there was to know on the test, but it took me pretty much all of the 50 minutes that were allotted to me, rather than the 15 it should have taken me. This was mostly because I kept seeing visions of my friends being mowed down by an AK47, which, as you can imagine, can be pretty distracting in any situation, let alone a major grade test. But, I got through the test.\
     After the test, I must have been able to walk back to my room, because that's where I found myself, sitting on my bed trembling. At this point, I figured I was beginning to have a panic attack: profuse sweating, uncontrollable shaking, momentary lapses of memory. Yea, it was no fun. 
     However, after...well, let's just suffice to say that I'm feeling pretty good right now. My happiness began to wear thin just a little while ago, but I'm able to keep myself under control, and I'm just loving the weather outside right now! It's great for typing blog posts in! Suriously, go outside!

Falling to Pieces...no, not like that song by The Script

     Oh yes, now the fun begins. And by fun, I mean mortal terror. All of my friends were complaining about how last week was the week that was going to kill them, what with all the assignments they had due and tests coming up. Mine starts...actually about 4 hours ago, when I went and did something really, really dumb. I know no one wants to hear about dumb shit like this, but I really need to vent it one way or another, so I'll try and keep it short.

     First off, the test situations. I had zero last week, everyone else had like 3. This week, I have 3, and everyone else has zero...I really wish my professors could learn to correlate my schedule with my friends' so that I can hang out with them without feeling the dread of impending doom because I'm not utilizing the time to study. And these aren't easy peasy, lemon squeezy tests either. They're mindfuck, hours and hours of study time required tests, so I'm slightly screwed in that aspect. I also have to give a speech on Thursday, which I would rather replace with all the mindfucking tests in the world. Public speaking is to me as the serpent was to Adam and Eve; it just aint a good time when I do it. I physically shake, you can see it in my hands and hear it in my voice. Also, this is an extemporaneous speech, which means you wing it...bad, bad, bad things are going to happen. I'm sorry Dr. Edwards, but my ideas just do not formulate in my head and then jump out of my mouth...actually, they do, but the end result is disastrous. I enjoy knowing what I'm going to say before I actually say it. So, actually, Thursday is going to be the day that I die. At least I get to look forward to drinking whiskey and rye, right?

     Secondly, the mess that I have gotten myself into in the past couple of days. I jumped into a relationship waaaaaay too fast, and am now regretting it completely because I have realized that I am not a guy to be in a relationship. Period. Of course, the person that I broke up with earlier disagrees, and doesn't believe me when I whipped out the 'it's not you it's me' cliche. And now they don't want to talk to me, even thought that's the way I wanted to do it in the first place, but eventually gave in to the nagging and did it over text. Worst. Idea. EVER. Don't ever do it, it is so not worth it. There are so many things to explain that can't be done via text that the other person gets really pissed at you for, even though it's all able to be explained, somewhat, and it should be. But whatever, it's cool if you just don't wanna do that, no worries. I'll just sit and stew in the pile of shit that my life has become. 

     But, of course, there is really no one to be mad at but myself, which is the suckiest part of all this. It is one of the worst feelings in the world to want to be mad at someone but figure out that it's all your fault. Sucks balls. If you haven't experienced it yet, you probably aren't human, but I wouldn't recommend it anyways. And the longer I sit here, being mad at other people, I feel worse and worse, and I'm probably developing a brain tumor as I sit and type this up. Actually, no, that's a guaranteed brain tumor, because I'm not going to fully develop this situation with any of my friends, no matter how much they ask or how much they think I told them all there was to tell. You know why? Because I hate talking about my problems! I enjoy shoving them to the back of my mind where they can get lost for a couple years, then surface back up and I can then just send them to the recycling bin in my head. Some people call it unhealthy...yea, so? It makes me feel better, why the hell shouldn't I do it? Plus, who the hell cares to hear about all the twisted shit that goes on in my mind, other than the poor pieces of paper I subject to my thoughts? I truly don't believe that it is my duty to burden people that I care about with all my baggage, time should be better spent with stuff they need to deal with. I know how to deal with anger, sadness, depression, all that jazz, so I need to help those that don't, right? It's only the Christian thing to do. 

     But I must say, friends are the best things in the world. Because as well as I can deal with stupid things, a distraction is necessary in the ignoring process. And I'll be damned if friends are not the best way to do that. Sure you can start off by talking about the problem, but then you just kind of stop after awhile and start talking about interesting things, like religion and all the implications of not believing in Jesus and all sorts of fun stuff like that. (I'm not being sarcastic here, that is the kind of thing that I like to talk about) Especially when I have such an interesting and radical view on the Christian faith. I consider myself a neo-Catholic, and if you would like to know what that is, come and find me, it's complicated, but you might like it, you never know. Although, if you're a hardcore Christian, I almost guarantee you that you will not. But yea, it's awesome talks like that that help me to move on and just be done with all the crap that seems to coat everything that I do these days. Music also seems to help. In fact, at this very moment, I am allowing Gaga to put back together the shattered pieces of my heart...that sounded very lovey dovey and gross, which it was not intended to be at all. Broken pieces of my mind probably would have been more accurate. Whatever, I'm a free bitch anyways. 

     At least I have some things to look forward to this week. That's right, if you're actually still reading this, there is a glimmer of hope at the bottom of the abyss. On Thursday, I get to go see the Baylor theater department put on Gypsy!! For those of you who don't know, Gypsy is considered by some experts to be the greatest American Broadway show in history...and I am a huge, huge Broadway fan, so needless to say, I'm flippin' excited!! Also, this weekend, I am going to be participating in something called a poverty simulation. Basically, I am going to be homeless for a weekend to see what it's like. For those of you who know my life aspirations, you know why this excites me so much. For those of you who don't, that's all content for another post, but short story: I want to live as a homeless person in New York City for at least a year, just for the hell of it. Yes I am 100% serious. Yes I am probably mentally unstable. But anyways, this experience will give me an idea, a very rough idea, of what life could be like for me somewhere in the future. 

     And with that happy note, I am going to sign off. It's absolutely way too late...early? for me to be up with a 9am class...so basically being active again in like 5 hours. Hooray. At least its going to feel like fall all week, and I'll have an excuse to wear sweats and a sweatshirt thats not 'I feel like shit'. Again, hooray. But no, for cereal, manbearpig, this weeks gonna suck. Hopefully yours aint gonna be like mine. And wow, I just previewed this thing...if you're reading this right now, you're a trooper, props to you!

The Bitter Relevance of Irony

     So, there is this class that I am taking called The Examined Life. In it, we explore ways that we can make our college experiences more fruitful and how we can translate our experiences to the world both during our time here and after we graduate. Basically, it's a feel good class that reinforces good moral values and makes you think about that kind of stuff. Well, today, the pristine image that I had for the class was shattered by an aluminum bat of a journal question.
     For every little segment of the class, every student has to answer various questions that entail to different aspects of the course and its called a journal assignment. Well, we are finishing up our first segment, and we have our first journal due tomorrow...today, whatever. Anywho, I go through the first five questions no problem, just normal, smarmy questions that are supposed to make you think in depth and other bullshit like that. Then I get to the last question, and flipped some serious shit. 
     The question had to do with a C.S.Lewis article that we had read, and the first half of the question was fine, just why everyone should go to college. To learn, duh, easy, next part. Brick wall. The question reads "What, on Lewis' view, would an educated person 'look like' and why would that matter?"...um, ok, what?! Firstly, I don't believe that people should be judged by their appearance, and if they are, because I do it all the time (yay me, the hypocrite!), it should not change the way that they are treated. Secondly, Lewis did not talk about physical appearance AT ALL in the article that we read, so I still don't fully understand why they asked it. With a troubled mind, I moved on to the last part of the question.
     Instant mindfuck. "What does this have to do with academic integrity?" (talking about physical appearance here still". Ok, wait just one fucking moment, someone shoot me to make sure I'm still coherent here. How does physical appearance relate to academic integrity? They're really gonna go there? Ok, I was gonna let the first little bit go, but now that this has come up, the gloves are off, bitches. 
     Ok, so, here we go. I cannot believe that, in today's society, at a legitimate college, in a course that is like the one I described above, a question like this is being asked. Completely blows my mind. In fact, I first read the question about, oh...12 hours ago? and it still makes me shake with rage. Why in the motherfucking HELL are we being expected to compare superficiality to a serious matter. Just because I look like a complete slob in the mornings for my 9:05 biology class does not mean that I am going to plagiarize every single essay and cheat every test that comes my way. Or, apparently it does, because that's sure as hell what whoever wrote that question is trying to get at! It just...I can't...no words are able to describe how much I want to find the author of this question and punch them in the face. It's absolutely unbelievable to me! 
     Sometimes, the audacity of people makes me want to drive a bus full of orphans into a gas station. I mean, for cereal, I am just completely wrecked by this question. I actually wrote a one page response specifically to the person who wrote the question, telling them how wrong they were when they wrote it and pretty much calling for their head. 
     And then there's the whole other situation going on...well, it's taking a dive headfirst straight for the pavement. Supposedly, I have nothing to worry about, but it's hard for me to believe that when...well, things just went horribly wrong tonight, and I'm just completely stressin' over it. Not to mention school, but that seems to take the backseat these days. Siiigh, just another day in the life I suppose.

So...Life?

     So, life has, once again, reared its ugly head in my direction. Only this time, it deposited a rose in my lap before it mind fucked me. At least now I have something beautiful in my life to concentrate on when everything else is blowing up.
     Without going into great detail, it shall suffice to say that Catholicism and I are no longer on speaking terms, I haven't been to church in two weeks, and I'm more than a little stressed out right now. But, I am now more comfortable with me than I have been in...well, too many years to count. And may I say, it feels absolutely awesome. So what if I have to adopt a new religion after 18 years of feeling somewhat at home in a Catholic church? I can do it knowing that I'm going to be ok at the end of the day.
     However, there is one question that continues to gnaw at the back of my mind: do i really have to totally give up being Catholic? I mean, they certainly believe that you either go all the way, or go home, damn them. But there are some parts of the faith that I really, truly love, and really don't think I'm going to be able to give those things up. For example, I have been to other kinds religions' services, and not once was I as close to God as I was in an incense filled church with a priest chanting prayers to God. Sorry Protestants, that's just the way it is. And also, kneeling; why doesn't everyone do that? It's just such a positively invigorating and emotional experience...I just can't even put it into words. It should be mandatory for everyone who is able to kneel for at least 15 minutes a day and pray to their God. The Muslims got it right on that one. 
     Of course, I realize that I can do these things on my own, and I probably will, but there is just nothing like the feeling of being surrounded by hundreds of people who believe the same thing that you do and doing the same thing that you are doing. Is that shallow? Maybe, but who gives a damn?! Being surrounded by people with the similar faith and beliefs as you kind of negated that uncertainty, but unfortunately, I had to go and change that up, so now it's all creeping back up on me. 
     But, day by day. I've found a new place that I'm going to try out pretty soon here, so hopefully that'll work out. But until that, there is a...challenge that I am pursuing. I'm having to turn my crafty on all the way for this one, too, so it'll be a good time killer at least, even if it doesn't pan out the way I would like for it to. It's all about the journey, right?
     Final paragraph on Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus. Worst movie meant to be good. Ever. Hands down, no thought. Just...a terrible, terrible movie. The graphics looked like they were done by a 5 year old Filipino boy who had never even seen a computer before. The script was probably written by panda bears who were mad at the United States government. The plot was most likely something that one of the directors fantasized about back in the day when he jacked off. It was an absolute wreck. But everyone should watch it because it was the best laugh I've had in a good long while. The epitome of the movie was a guy casually glancing out of a plane window, and exclaims 'Holy shit!' when he sees a gigantic shark flying toward the plane. This is then followed by the same clip about five times, separated by scenes of the plane shaking, when clearly, it had already blown up. Seriously, go watch it.

The Incredible Musings of the One and Only, Dr. Tom Hanks.

     As is the only appropriate way to start a post about this man, greetings colleague. This post serves no more purpose really than to shower the great Tom Hanks in praise. To the disappointment of all you Toy Story fans out there, no, not Woody. If I knew the legit Tom Hanks, I would be not here in this podunk little town called Waco, I'd be out partyin' with Tom Hanks. However, I am pleased to report, this Tom Hanks is probably just as awesome.

     The Tom Hanks of which I speak is the World Cultures prof whom freshman BICers come to love and dread equally. The love: the man is awesome personified. From the beastly bow ties, right down to his favorite name for all those he does not know, which is curiously reminiscent of communism, Dr. Hanks, or Dr. Tom Hanks, as I prefer to recognize him as, is a true hero in the world of the weary college student. 

     Until he conducts a class, that is. Then all bets are off. Aside from the use of the word 'colleague', Dr. Tom Hanks also enjoys watching people squirm in their chairs when he calls on them. Randomly. Whenever you accidentally slept through the time that had been your only chance to read an assignment, it can get pretty dicey. 

     However, it cannot be denied that the man practices sacrifice with a particular sense of style. It is unclear whether it is the witty description that descends upon the helpless victim, or perhaps the simple fact of who it is, the dread is soon forgotten. By those who are not offered up for slaughter that is. Those unfortunate souls, unless they are truly prepared, are soon thrown into a state of chaos and terror. But, of course, who cares? So long as it's not me, right?

      But even despite the ever existent fear that accompanies a lecture with him, Dr. Tom Hanks certainly turns learning into a completely unique, fun experience, exponentially more exciting than sitting in a classroom, listening to a teacher drone about the Mayans and where they went. I am also happy to report that this applies to all of the BIC professors that I have had the pleasure to have teach to me. Well, almost all. Names shall not be named, but...ya know. Always the odd one. But anywho, I chose simply to expound upon Dr. Tom Hanks because, for God's sake, his name is Tom Hanks! That pretty much says it all! 

     Ah, but I digress. Well, anyways, to all you BICers out there, I look forward to sharing more of what are guaranteed to be memorable Dr. Tom Hankisms with you. If you're not in BIC...sucks to be you. You're missing out.