I will savor - and underground aquifers, as well as those who monitor them - will rue the day that reading in the shower becomes a possibility.
It's people with ambitions like mine who will suck this earth dry! Muahaha.. ha
ha.. aha!ha.
ha?
*meep*
Today, I got owned by a racquetball. In the face of all places. In the eye, of all faces.
I wish more publishers or journalists or famous people would read these blogs so I could be quoted for being so profound and rhythmic.
I hope you all realize that when I say words like "today," I usually mean sometime other than today. Most of the time, in the past.
For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to take a racquetball class at 8:30 in the morning on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
This is me being optimistic:
"Oh! Racquetball at 8:30 sounds like a good idea... it will wake me up and I'll get some extra weekly physical activity logged! Hooray!"
But now that I've felt the fury of a racquetball, I'm beginning to wonder what made me think such annoying thoughts.
As I watched that tiny blue ball form a path whose endpoint was my eye and, using my danger-induced slow-motion vision, begin to slowly get bigger without deviating from its path, I sincerely wished that a time machine would whisk me away to the moment annoying, optimistic Connor decided to sign up for a racquetball class, so I could punch him in the face. (I suppose that would have achieved the same effect as the racquetball did, but I think you know what I'm trying to say. I also suppose it would be easier to just wish that I had goggles, but whatever.)
You know how, if you make a backwards "C" with your right hand using your thumb and pointer finger (or a normal "C" with your left hand), and you put the "C" up to your right eye (or left eye), you can imagine that you can squish really huge things that are far away with your fingers? Well that's called making the most out of depth perception. Sometimes I use this nifty little trick to squish friends' or annoying peoples' (synonym: choobers') heads when they don't know it, but that's beside the point. ("Were you just trying to squish my head with your fingers?" "Umm... heh... no?")
That ugly blue racquetball decided, then and there, to make use of its ability to influence my depth perception, and as it reached the point in its journey to my face in which it was an inch away from its destination, it became the most unsquishable object in the universe.
My racquet clattered to the floor and I rolled my one good eye and sighed as I lifted my hands up to inspect the damages. Valentine's Day was that weekend and my eye could NOT be black. (I can't wait to introduce you to my girlfriend!)
Eventually, I realized that my adventure that morning wasn't completely bad, because not only did my eye end up staying the same color, but I also have this killer story to tell, although I don't think that it would proceed much farther past "I got owned in the face by a racquetball" in daily conversation.
In retrospect, recalling that scene in which the ball slowly got bigger and bigger until it gleefully bounced of my flinching face is actually pretty enjoyable. I mean, I do remember that occurrence in slow motion, and I've always dreamed of having the ability to slow down time in moments of intense action, and while the action happened TO me rather than WITH me, I still have this feeling that some obnoxious genie is out there somewhere, misinterpreting my wishes and granting them. Not many people have this feeling.
Oh crap.
I just realized:
This is me being optimistic... again.
And I also realized:
"Is this what he was talking about when he said he keeps going on adventures?"
No.
On the website I use to publish these blogs, I have the option of writing the blog, but keeping it hidden.
I wonder if anyone would be peeved if I hid everything I wrote and then suddenly, I unleashed a torrent of blogs onto all the people who sit all day at the computer, refreshing my page until I come out with a new blog.
But then again, I doubt anyone actually does that.
My head really isn't that big.
WHAT?! I JUST WROTE A BLOG AND IT TOOK SO LONG THAT I WAS SIGNED OUT OF MY ACCOUNT DUE TO INACTIVITY! AND I LOST IT!
I LOOK SO LAZY!
AND ANGRY!
Today, I decided that I could be, like, really smart.
Like, I have the potential. But I wonder if it would make people ask me weird questions.
For instance:
I buy cereal and granola and yogurt and bananas from the grocery store that's about a mile away from Trinity. I ride my bike there. But, as you might have noticed, I did not mention that I buy milk. And milk NEEDS to be with cereal. But milk costs like, four dollars a gallon. And my parents don't pay for that.
BUT!
My parents DO pay for my meal plan. And in the cafeteria, there's this milk dispenser, and I can fill up this 1 liter Nalgene bottle I have with milk, and it only costs my meal plan like, two dollars. So I save money on breakfast every day, and all I have to do is buy milk every now and then and wow! I can buy so many candy! With the money I have left over!
See, this is what makes me smart. Or potentially smart. But I'm kind of unsure whether or not I should make the full transition into smartness, because when I'm acting smart, I always get these weird questions. When I'm filling up my Nalgene bottle with milk, inevitably someone will come up and say:
"Wow! Are you going to drink that all at once?"
"Pff! No, foolish person walking by, I save this for later. For my cereals."
"Ohhh! That's smart!"
"HA! Of course it is, puny bean!"
But sometimes I also get weird looks too. Like they're too afraid to ask the weird question because they're intimidated by my supersmartness, so they just look at me funny.
This is why I wonder whether or not to be really smart. People might think I'm weird. Or ask me stupid things.
"Wow! Are you going to use all that smart at once?!"
Or they might gives me looks for being soooo smart that say:
"Why are you so weird for being smart?"
I think the pleasure of being smart would be severely dampened by the other not-smart people. Who are jealous and look at me funny or don't know why I'm smart.
I would feel very alone.
It's a good thing that's not going to happen though, because so long as I keep getting owned by racquetballs and trees, I don't think my brain cells will develop enough to allow that kind of silliness! Oh karma, you are too kind.
Dear reader,
I am currently INSIDE of my Engineering Analysis and Design II class. We are waiting for our professor to get here. No, I do not have a laptop. This room is equipped with many computers. Sometimes people don't pay attention because there are computers. But that's cool.
Ineffectively,
C. Gor
I have decided that I am giving everyone a distorted version of my life at Trinity. I mean, if I were to read these few blogs without knowing me, then I would think: "What? This guy hardly does anything besides study and yell and draw cartoons. He seems boring. I don't want to go to Trinity."
But this is hardly the case! I keep promising you a better look at the adventures I've been on, but I never get the time to write about them. BECAUSE I KEEP GOING ON NEW ONES! Okay... sorry that wasn't meant to be a yell. Perhaps I should have italicized that instead of capitalizing it. Let's try again.
Because I keep going on new ones!
I don't think the italics button is working. Oh well... moving on.
Sometimes, when I'm reading a book, I start to think in third person and I start to put quotes around the things I think inside my head. For instance:
"I'm sooooo ornery!," he thought in frustration to himself as he sat down to give his roommate his daily foot massage.
Anywho, we're reading a book called Sick Puppy for my seminar class (Functions of Humor in Literature) and I've been thinking like that a lot lately. And last night, I dreamt about it.
One of the characters in the book is this vigilante who goes around meting out punishment to people he observes committing some crime against the earth (i.e. littering, harming wildlife) and one of the aspects of his situation that severely bothers me is that he is able to run around bribing people and sleeping in hotels and eating without any source of income. Like, he has no job. So in my dream, he was freaking out because he only had one hundred and one dollars left, which was not enough to begin his next act of justice. And I don't remember my dreams often. So if I'm dreaming more about my English classes than I am my regular engineering classes, I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something about my current potential major.
But I'm fine. I've got everything worked out. First I graduate with an engineering degree. Then I go out and save a lot of money. Then I go through a mid-life crisis and go back to college. Or maybe culinary school. I'm not sure yet. Anywho, if I go back to college, I can major in English and everything can be all peaches and cream.
But anywho, I am going to make some kind of connection between this blog's title and its nonapparent subject.
I recently promised myself that I would start writing one thing every week (I switch between this blog and the one I have on my Myspace page). I want to start writing something every week because I know that if I remain inactive in my writing, my writing skills will slowly decline and if I randomly decide one day to "pick up where I left off," I might not be able to. I can already feel that the quality of what I write is beginning to decline. So maybe now I can begin to tell more stories. Stories that, despite what I have articulated in this blog, are there to tell. People to meet, situations to recall, thoughts to describe. Hopefully I can remember them all.
Connor
El Paso, TX
Class of 2012
I Study: Engineering
TU Extra-curriculars: swing dance, Catholic Student Group, drama productions