I hate my neighbors.

I can't believe it's already Thursday. I have to do so much studying tomorrow. I absolutely cannot afford to fail that EMT exam Saturday morning. I can't and I won't. It's my birthday present to myself. It'll make all the hard work justified and it'll make the weekend totally worth it.

I hung out with some friends tonight. It was kinda weird because I really don't hang out with them all that much and I feel like I ought to. Partly because I work with them and partly because, well, hanging out with them is always so much fun. So hopefully that'll be happening a whole lot more often. I could use letting off steam.

And that pie.

I actually spent time drawing the background today. Well, not really. I drew the background and then turned the opacity down so it would look really fancy I guess.

Spencer's coming in tomorrow for something. Hopefully we'll get to meet up. I want him to meet Ashley so I can get his opinion. I mean, you know: that's what friends are supposed to do. It'll be good to catch up, too. We don't talk nearly enough during the year. But I guess that's understandable since we both have pretty busy schedules.

I had something else I wanted to talk about and now I can't remember.

Comments

jonathanbarcelo said…

Dude, taht pie was amazing

October 27, 2009 at 2:35 PM

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely. Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung. There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....

Pseudo-science (like psych).

I consider myself a man of science. I try to approach problems and deal with them logically, using observations previously recorded to handle new problems. So of course my interest was piqued when someone I knew posited that men are needier and more complicated than women. An interesting theory. But to properly examine it, one must understand the concept of sexual selection and its two aspects: male competition and female choice. Which brings us to point one: men are needier [in relationships] than women. This is true. In a natural/primal setting, the males are generally love-'em-leave-'em kinds of guys. Their main objective is to reproduce as much as they can. Humans, in their infinite wisdom, have decreased the emphasis on this to the point where it has become a footnote in male purpose. Civilization dictates that, instead of finding a partner for the sole purpose of reproduction, males find females for life companionship. With the effective removal of their natur...

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...

everything is fine

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