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Wow... this absolutely freak thunderstorm just appeared, lowered the temperature about 20 degrees, and disappeared. What the heck? Silly weather. Glad I wasn't standing around outside. It hailed, even. After all the admiring I did of the lack of clouds, apparently when it gets close to winter, it gets just as cloudy here as it does in Ohio. Drat that. I liked all the blue skies. Silly lake ruining everything. Do you know how insanely hard it is to move your mental map of where you are? It's so weird to picture myself perched at the top of Illinois when all my life I've been hiding in the middle of Ohio.
So, the last 24 hours has been happy. I got both my new CDs yesterday, and I've spent more time listening to them than I should've, but it's such a nice feeling. I've missed new music. Especially new music by BNL. I realized recently that there hasn't been a new CD since my sophomore year. How dare they keep me waiting that long. It's really funny that I tend to find 4 years between albums perfectly normal and acceptable, provided it was in the past. Then it comes to now, and I realize that four years between albums is one at the end of 8th grade, and one at the end of my senior year of high school. Or one at the beginning of college, and another at the end. Will I be about to graduate next time BNL comes out with something? Will I have graduated by the time TMBG releases the album after next? Funny how much faster time has gone when you look backwards. Will college go by that fast? I suppose it will, once I get used to it. It's such a complete change from high school. Time is such a funny thing. Sort of silly, since I can remember the Friday after Maroon came out (must've been September 13th, 2000), bringing it to the football game and forcing my friends to listen to it because I was so in love with it. I can remember September 12, 2001; going to the mall with my sister to get Mink Car, and finding the mall entirely deserted. I remember going to Best Buy last June to get Keep it Together, and having the guy working there tell me all about Coheed and Cambria, and then coming here and finding a guy absolutely obsessed with all the music that I had only just heard about, and never gotten to listen to (borrowing all of his CDs is great). But I can barely remember anything at all about Algebra 1, French 3, or Government. Why does so much revolve around new music for me? Why am I the silly one still buying the CDs? Always gotta be honest, me. And I don't want to get kicked off the university network. And my money goes to my bands, darnit. Nya!
Ah, I love how my journal is finally becoming the nice rambling thing I always intended it to be. Back into my nice habit of just writing for the sake of things. Lovely. Maybe this is a sign of me not failing my Humanities class, and getting better than a C on my next paper. And, yeah, that just reminded me about what else I was going to mention before I went onto my bizarre tirad on music... I got an A on my Calculus midterm! I should do a little dance! I have done a little dance. Hehehe. Of course, I wouldn't have gotten an A had it not been for the two extra-extra credit points (7/5 extra credit, rather than 5) for my bizarre chicken story (question was "write a paragraph long story, you must mention intermediate value theorem, extreme value theorem, and the pinching theorem, points will be awarded based on creativity). I love writing. In fact, I should copy that down now, for posterity. And the haiku I wrote last night in response to someone's claim that "no one writes poetry about bagels" for Media Asthetics... because I had nothing better to do.
Good morning, bagel
emitting fear and pity
before 9 o'clock
Once upon a time there was a chicken whose wings had been stolen by a buffalo as a part of a terrible conspiracy involving a fast food chain and propeller beanies. Down, but not depressed enough to contemplate suicide, he stands at the side of a road used only by irate taxi and bus drivers. He doesn't want to cross the road, but he must to exact his revenge. He realizes that, because of the intermediate value theorem, he cannot walk across the street without touching it. He decides, instead, to strap on the prosthetic wings a kind man named Icharus loaned him ("they'll tkae you as high as you care to go!" he had said). He flew up, up, up until, of course, his wings melted and he plummeted to earth, because, afterall, if you fly up into the air, and connot teleport yourself away, you must have a maximum limit you can reach. Our slightly-charred chicken hit the ground on the other side of the road, but did not fall below, since he must also have a minimum. He looked up, and found himself surrounded by buffalo. He tried to retrieve his wings, and found himself being relentlessly squished between them. They squeeed so mercilessly that the chicken had no choice but to occupy the same space as a nearby buffalo's leg. And this is why there are not only buffalo chicken wings, but legs as well.
The note written on the bottom: "+7 I cried."
So, the last 24 hours has been happy. I got both my new CDs yesterday, and I've spent more time listening to them than I should've, but it's such a nice feeling. I've missed new music. Especially new music by BNL. I realized recently that there hasn't been a new CD since my sophomore year. How dare they keep me waiting that long. It's really funny that I tend to find 4 years between albums perfectly normal and acceptable, provided it was in the past. Then it comes to now, and I realize that four years between albums is one at the end of 8th grade, and one at the end of my senior year of high school. Or one at the beginning of college, and another at the end. Will I be about to graduate next time BNL comes out with something? Will I have graduated by the time TMBG releases the album after next? Funny how much faster time has gone when you look backwards. Will college go by that fast? I suppose it will, once I get used to it. It's such a complete change from high school. Time is such a funny thing. Sort of silly, since I can remember the Friday after Maroon came out (must've been September 13th, 2000), bringing it to the football game and forcing my friends to listen to it because I was so in love with it. I can remember September 12, 2001; going to the mall with my sister to get Mink Car, and finding the mall entirely deserted. I remember going to Best Buy last June to get Keep it Together, and having the guy working there tell me all about Coheed and Cambria, and then coming here and finding a guy absolutely obsessed with all the music that I had only just heard about, and never gotten to listen to (borrowing all of his CDs is great). But I can barely remember anything at all about Algebra 1, French 3, or Government. Why does so much revolve around new music for me? Why am I the silly one still buying the CDs? Always gotta be honest, me. And I don't want to get kicked off the university network. And my money goes to my bands, darnit. Nya!
Ah, I love how my journal is finally becoming the nice rambling thing I always intended it to be. Back into my nice habit of just writing for the sake of things. Lovely. Maybe this is a sign of me not failing my Humanities class, and getting better than a C on my next paper. And, yeah, that just reminded me about what else I was going to mention before I went onto my bizarre tirad on music... I got an A on my Calculus midterm! I should do a little dance! I have done a little dance. Hehehe. Of course, I wouldn't have gotten an A had it not been for the two extra-extra credit points (7/5 extra credit, rather than 5) for my bizarre chicken story (question was "write a paragraph long story, you must mention intermediate value theorem, extreme value theorem, and the pinching theorem, points will be awarded based on creativity). I love writing. In fact, I should copy that down now, for posterity. And the haiku I wrote last night in response to someone's claim that "no one writes poetry about bagels" for Media Asthetics... because I had nothing better to do.
Good morning, bagel
emitting fear and pity
before 9 o'clock
Once upon a time there was a chicken whose wings had been stolen by a buffalo as a part of a terrible conspiracy involving a fast food chain and propeller beanies. Down, but not depressed enough to contemplate suicide, he stands at the side of a road used only by irate taxi and bus drivers. He doesn't want to cross the road, but he must to exact his revenge. He realizes that, because of the intermediate value theorem, he cannot walk across the street without touching it. He decides, instead, to strap on the prosthetic wings a kind man named Icharus loaned him ("they'll tkae you as high as you care to go!" he had said). He flew up, up, up until, of course, his wings melted and he plummeted to earth, because, afterall, if you fly up into the air, and connot teleport yourself away, you must have a maximum limit you can reach. Our slightly-charred chicken hit the ground on the other side of the road, but did not fall below, since he must also have a minimum. He looked up, and found himself surrounded by buffalo. He tried to retrieve his wings, and found himself being relentlessly squished between them. They squeeed so mercilessly that the chicken had no choice but to occupy the same space as a nearby buffalo's leg. And this is why there are not only buffalo chicken wings, but legs as well.
The note written on the bottom: "+7 I cried."
