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.