Trinity University

Okay. Hold on.

I think I need to actually create a whole new blog to shake off the tone that the previous one conveyed. I do not mean to suggest that I belong in someone's closet with the word "FAIL!" tattooed on my forehead. Because sometimes people get anxious and do dangerous things when they discover an unwanted person in their closet (see the movie "Burn After Reading"). And also because I haven't failed THAT much.

I have been working on my cooking skills.

One of the many magics of childhood was seeing food in front of me that my mother created and then seeing that food into my mouth and drooling at the wonderful tastes (I think if my mom reads this, she will contradict me, because I'm sure I didn't ALWAYS enjoy her cooking). I always thought that my mom had to work some kind of actual magic in order to allow this sequence of events to take place. As in, as I'm remembering walking into the kitchen with child-vision while my mom was cooking, I remember her having to wear wizard hats and facial hairs as she waved her arms with all of that magic powder over the stove. You see, I was too small to see over the counter, even less into the pots, so I never knew what was going on.

But after creating a meal or two or three or four or five or six or seven or eight on my own, I'm starting to be discouraged. I realize now, how little magic it takes to make food. I realize now, that no one will think I'm a magician for making food appear in front of them and making flavors happen in their mouths.

But this doesn't prevent me from making future generations think that food=magic.

Consider my potential maybe possibly conceivably future children. Consider then, what you know of me, and what I just said about wanting future generations to think that food=magic.

Are you seeing a connection? If you aren't, let me outline a HYPOTHETICAL scenario.

Sometime in the future: Connor has children, unassisted.

A moment later in the future: Connor makes smiles and plans.

A few years after that moment: Connor begins to don a long white beard, a wizard hat, wizard robes, and a wicked wizard mustache prior to cooking every meal.

Beginning at the same time: Connor begins to mutter random gibberish and wave his hands in random circles at cooking food.

Sometime later: Connor's unassisted children spend the night at some other parents' house. The children wonder why the other parents are so weird and why their food doesn't taste as good.

Same time: Connor smiles again because he knows he has accomplished his plans.

(I was kidding about having children unassisted. I said unassisted because no woman I potentially possible maybe conceivably marry will let me skew my childrens' worldview so dramatically. I AM NOT AN ASEXUALLY REPRODUCTIVE AMOEBA/SPONGE!)

Posted by Connor at 10:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

High school taught me to place my thesis sentences at the end of the introduction paragraph. Apparently this is because when writing an essay, one should wish to inform his or her reader of various small, but important details before grabbing the reader's attention.

I think college is teaching me to put it wherever the hell works the best. To say what formal "section" of this writing my thesis sentence exists in is difficult though because my style of writing consists of many two to three-sentence paragraphs because I refuse to be practical and be satisfied with separating my thoughts with a mere period as most successful writing people do. To me, every thought is wonderful and unique in it's own way and must have it's own space to be properly appreciated. Okay... that came across as more romantic than I intended it to. I am not in love with my thoughts.

Okay. Anyway.

I'm about to type out my thesis sentence for this blog entitled, "A Rebel Yell."

I hope you are paying attention, and if you're not, I hope it grabs your attention. Because I think this is where the "wherever the hell works best" place is in this blog.

Summer,
Oh, This summer,
Has been full of
Disappointments.

My dad told me the other day, and I'm surprised I didn't gather this from all of the songs in which the singer joyfully sings or mournfully wails, "I am my own worst enemy!" but he told me the other day, that people are best at lying to themselves. Better at lying to themselves than they would ever imagine themselves being at lying to other people.

These are among the things I told myself I would be spending my time with this summer:
"Friends!"
"Family!"
"Cooking!"
"Writing blogs for self and Trinity!"
"Work in a restaurant!"
"Guitar!"
"God!"
"Exercise!"
"Not video games!"

I included the exclamation marks because, you know, I was so happy and excited at the prospect of an un-busy summer in which I could spend plenty of time developing the aspects of me which I didn't have much time to develop.

But I forgot where un-business used to leave me. Remember when I included "Not video games!" into my list of things I would be spending my time with? Well that one item on the list was the one exception to the exclamation rule in that it is meant to be said with a sort of sarcastic enthusiasm. As in, that's what I ended up not doing. Not not spending time with video games.

Summer,
Oh, This summer,
Has been full of
Disappointments.

From now on, whenever I enter my room with the thought of playing video games, I will only grant the computer screen enough attention to yell at it. Not with words, mind you, because I want my family to retain at least a little respect for me, but with noises.

Like
"AGHHHH!"
and
"WAAAAAAAH!"
and
"GARRRR!"

etcetera.

Television, video games, movies, for the most part, are only a good way to turn your mind off. And during a time when my mind is expected to not only be on, but also absorbing information, I think that, yes I do think that, OH I SO THINK THAT... I should not turn it off.

Posted by Connor at 9:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)