You say Eye-rack, I say Ee-rawk.

This morning, as usual, I boarded the 6b bus to campus. While I was patiently waiting for the bus to pull away, a special needs rider across from me suddenly shouted at the bus driver to wait, and announced that she had a "paper for you Eileen!" Apparently "Eileen" was driving the bus idling in front of ours, so the girl barreled out of 6b and made for Eileen's bus, today's Tribune in hand. Minutes later, the girl returned to her seat across from me and explained to me, the driver, whoever, "I felt persecuted." I don't know what she meant by that, she really didn't qualify her statement at all. She did however, question our driver to determine whether or not she should get reading material for her as well, I don't know what the driver's response was, because she is from New York, and I don't recognize the words that come out of her mouth.
In a related story, last week at a slightly more residential bus stop nearer my apartment, I was waiting on a bench for the always late 5 bus to school. An elderly black woman walked straight out of 1880's Missouri and sat down next to me. She had already been telling me from about 15 yards away her plan to go shopping at Gottschalks and Best Buy that afternoon, long before she took her seat next to mine. I considered asking her what she intended on buying, but she took the initiative, explaining not to me, but to "all these damn birds", that she was going to buy herself a new dress. The "birds" and the woman carried on a long conversation until the bus arrived, but apparently did not follow her on board.

Ladies and Gentlemen

At this time I would like to acknowledge that the academy has chosen to honor David Lacross' post on the history of the tractor pull, as the greatest post ever. You serve as a model for commenters everywhere, and your talents have not gone unnoticed. I thank you, the academy thanks you, and the entire civilized world thanks you.

P.S. The academy is only pretty sure that David is the author of that post, and regrets any grief that this presumption may cause.

Hello Nasi Goreng and Suharto

Its just no use. I've tried to make the best of this whole college thing. I've traded the possibility of a more interesting and diverse university for the access to good, uncrowded surf near Cal Poly. I felt that I only needed a year and a half or so of school, and then I would be free to go to grad school in a more liberal setting. I even started to really like my professors, and the classes that I'm taking. All of this blew up in my face today. I was walking to the library enjoying the warm sun, feeling good after a fun surf this morning. Once on campus though, I heard an unfamiliar and uncomfortably loud sound. I got closer to the library, and...oh no. No no no no no. Please Christ, no. The noise that was tearing apart my eardrums was a fucking tractor pull. On campus. An ON CAMPUS TRACTOR PULL. I attend a college that has an annual tractor pull. I'm selling my truck and moving to Indonesia. Goodbye America.

Watch where I'm going

I think that there is a major problem facing America's sidewalks and hallways today. This problem is a near total lack of spatial awareness. I do not suffer from this affliction, mind you, but I am forced to deal with it constantly, as I presume you are as well. It is important to realize that I am almost never in a hurry, but I routinely find myself slowing, pausing, or even stopping completely as slower moving pedestrians in front of me lazily bob and weave across my intended path. What is worse, is when somehow, two large waisted people manage to occupy an entire walking area by themselves, seemingly oblivious to my silent pleas for them to part long enough for me to get wherever it is that I am in no hurry to get to. The positive side, is that I get to pretend that I am knifing my way through the Baltimore Ravens defense, accumulating much needed first down yardage.

I really, really, really, miss Adrian Beltre

I came up with a new reason to feel self-righteous this morning. I was driving to Morro Bay to look at the surf, and I thought to myself, "Hey. Gas is way expensive. Give 55mph a chance. Save some gas." So I did. Within maybe two miles I was already looking disapprovally at cars zooming by me in the fast lane, and pronouncing them gasoline wastrels. I started to make "PPfff" sounds, and roll my eyes at drivers going the same speed that I had been driving only 5 minutes before. I need to think about it for a bit, but I may have set a new land speed record for hypocrisy.

Not as smart as I would like to think maybe

This morning while I was on the bus headed for Poly, I overheard a discussion by two guys nearby. Here is the transcript:
"Hey. How's your quarter?"
"Good. I'm just working on my senior project."
"Oh yeah, what is it?"
"That robotic neurosynthesis project I told you about."
"That's right. How is the robot responding?"
"Great, we had a clean run yesterday, but we need to do some massive calculations to help synthesize the electro-"
At this point I had stopped listening and returned to my book about natives on New Guinea.

I apologize

Sorry about that. Really, I don't know what happened, I sat down to write a little something, and that little emotional tirade ended up on the screen. No more of those kinds of posts. And regardless to any similarities with the event in that post to an event that you may remember me telling you about, yesterday's post was actually a reference to Shawn Green's leaving the Dodgers.

I would at this point like to express my feelings about guys who slap fives or whatever, in greeting. I'm not really into that. If you want to do the bro slap, fine, but know that I think it is a bit ridiculous.

So Many Fortresses and Ways to Attack

Remember when I came to your apartment that rainy night a few months ago and attempted my own John Cusack movie moment by confessing my love for you? You were lying on the couch reading a book I had lent to you, and I came up the stairs soaking wet from the rain, determined to tell you everything I felt about you. I said that I'd been in love with you for quite some time, and that I was an idiot for letting you get away after our occasional affairs in the past, and apologized for my immaturity to commit to anything. You cried, and for a moment It seemed certain that you had just heard everything that you had wanted and needed to hear, and that something incredible was about to begin. But then...you didn't really know what to think,...and nothing came of that experience. And then I didn't really see you for a few weeks, and I began to forget and to move on. How is it that I'm supposed to pretend like that didn't happen? Even though I've come to terms with that night, and my disappointment, how do I maintain my dignity? Did you not believe me? Do you think about what I said when you call me or think about me? How confusing.