Numbered Nine

Diploma's in the mail

2008-05-21T10:32:00.000-04:00

I graduated. Bam.

Thus ends part 1

2008-04-28T00:31:00.003-04:00

I'll keep this simple and straightforward. I've found everything that I wanted to find at the beginning of this blog. Sorry I couldn't update you all on the play-by-play. All I have to do now is hold on to what I have, and make sure it doesn't slip away! Hey everyone, I'm finally happy! WOO!

blanked out

2008-03-30T22:49:00.002-04:00

I'm just...so happy right now, and so damn worried at the same time. Haha, I know this is a bit shady, but I'm going to post more as soon as my schedule clears up. You'll understand.

THIS MEANS WAR!

2008-03-25T08:07:00.001-04:00

The girl of my dreams was going to come over last night. Unfortunately, I fell asleep just before she texted me. Why? Well, this week I had to make up a lot of conditioning classes on Monday because I’m going to interviews across the damn world on Wednesday and Thursday. Basically, I had four conditioning classes in a row, Yoga, Aerobics, Pilates, and Fitness and Conditioning.

Yoga was easy enough. Just a bunch of stretching and whatnot, like normal. Aerobics was taught by a different instructor though. In the auxiliary gym.

The auxiliary gym is a creepy place. My first aerobics class, back in the beginning of the year, was taught there before it was moved upstairs to…the mirror room (I’ll discuss this in a later post). The auxiliary gym is used by the baseball team when they run drills. Rumor has it that they have to put buckets out, because they train the team so hard that the frequently vomit allover the place. Of course, I was not looking forward to this. And what did I get for it? Hip hop aerobics.

Can I dance in real life? No. So who the hell thought it was a bright idea to teach me hip hop aerobics!? I looked like a drunk trying to fight an invisible man at the peek of his binge. All class I just flailed around, jumping, trying to look ok. There was ONE move that I could do ok, and it was called the snake. I can’t describe it too well, but basically, it’s when you lead with your shoulder and kind of sink/glide into a direction.

How do I know I was good at the snake, you ask? Well, in my next damn makeup class, Pilates, which WAS in the mirror room, I took a little gander at myself. Damn, I looked hot. Just amazing. But that’s besides the point. Fitness and Conditioning was after Pilates. You never know what to expect from Fitness and Conditioning.

Sometimes we do meditation. Sometimes we do an Energetics workout. Monday…we did abs. Nothing but abs. Previously, I thought crunches and sit-ups were the only workouts for the stomach. My God, how wrong I was. That instructor worked me like a $2 prostitute. I bent like a pretzel, and my stomach muscles wouldn’t stop twitching by the end of the class. Today, it feels like someone shot me in the stomach while I was wearing Kevlar. I brought this on myself though – a week before I told the instructor that I wanted a 6-pack by the end of the semester. She kept looking at me in class like, “Haha, FUCKER, teach you to request something. You know not what you fuddle with!”

Anyway, as soon as I got back from my meeting at night I fell right to sleep, moments before she texted me. Moments. Literally. The worst part is…right before I clonked out, there was this little voice in my head that said to text her to tell her to CALL me as opposed to texting when she was ready to come over. And I didn’t listen to it. I thought I wasn’t going to fall asleep. And if I did, at least, I didn’t think I would fall asleep deep enough to not hear the phone next to my stupid head!

I woke up at 7:30 to go to the bathroom, and I’m legitimately so pissed off right now that I can’t go back to sleep. When I woke up, my body did that odd twitch thing, when you realize that you fell asleep when you didn’t want too and your feet kind of jolt up. Then your body kind of flails in place and throws off the sheets, as if you’re a two year old throwing a temper tantrum. I couldn’t believe the sun was up already. I rolled towards my cell, than reached for it. “No.”

And there was the text.

“Awake?”

These conditioning classes manage to take my dignity every week. Every damn week. And now they take THIS!? I actually like this girl! And it’s not just that I want to sleep next to her – I’m going to be away tonight into tomorrow, then prepping for interviews into Thursday. Thursday night my friend wants me to visit him down south, and Friday I have the campus Relay for Life to go to that I’m going to be at all night. Today, as soon as 11 o’clock hits, I’m going to be either in the office or at class until I leave for (insert college name here). I had to shift all of my office hours around this week because of these interviews, so I’m working like a dog all day. I’m probably not going to see her for a while, and all I want to do is get to know her. This, of course, puts a dent in my plans.

Of course…she can never know how upset I am over the fact that I missed her text. Nuh uh.

Fuck my life.

-Jack

Almost back to 100%

2008-03-22T19:24:00.000-04:00

The flu lasted almost two weeks, but I’ve finally beaten my way out of it, and I’m almost back to full strength. I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same though, because that flu really threw my mind for a loop. Half of me is pretty upset, because I ended up dropping my econometrics class. The professor even gave me an extension, but I couldn’t meet it because I had prior obligations then, too. If I took the time to study, I would have been fine for that exam. It wasn’t even that hard of a class yet.

Either way, I wish I had taken that advanced creative writing/fiction workshop/whatever course that I wanted to before I chose econometrics. I wouldn’t have had to drop it if I did, because, as far as I know, there are no exams for that class. Just essays. Writing. Etc. I’m really upset I didn’t take that class instead. Not to sound hokey, but if I learned anything because of this flu, it’s that I should do what I want. Why dedicate my life to economics and try to save the world if that’s not what I want to do (and I’m starting to debate whether or not it is anymore)? You know? I should probably start playing catch up with my writing skills and publish that novella of mine that I was working on. That sounds good.

But yeah. Let’s see let’s see…my mentality definitely changed since the meds kicked in. I can’t quite explain it.

The problem now? Graduating. I now have 14 credits, and I need 13 to graduate. If I fail my economics course, or my athletic injury management…then I’m sunk. I can’t fail more than 1 conditioning class…or I’m sunk. This isn’t going to be easy, because they grade based on attendance, and I’m going to be flying around to a few of the states nearby for job interviews in the coming week, which means I’ll be missing class. So I’ve been talking to my instructors, and most of them have found ways for me to make up the sessions that I miss. Except for one. Well…she says they will be excused absences…but I can tell that she doesn’t like me.

She doesn’t like me at all.

And I’m in three of her classes.

That’s three credits. And two of those classes are on the same day that I’m missing.

She doesn’t take attendance. I don’t know if this is good or bad. I mean…sometimes I think that she doesn’t mind me. But most of the time, it’s painfully obvious that I’m not on her good side. She just…stonewalls me during conversations. I can read into people pretty well, and I can tell that THIS ONE is not a big fan of the Jack. Nuh uh.

So I need everyone to wish me luck, or else I’ll be here for another year. Alright, I need to go stay on top of my remaining course’s work. Adios.

Ugh

2008-03-19T10:56:00.003-04:00

For the last week....up until last night....and maybe even today...this had been me. Trying to crawl into a ball and just die in peace.

I dropped econometrics. Couldn't study for the mid term.

Whatever happened to me over break made me question what I was going to do with my life. I have no clue anymore. No clue. All these places want to interview me for a job though. Wowwie. I'd type more...but I can't. Good night.

Escape hell

2008-03-14T20:27:00.000-04:00

Monday, March 10, 2008

10:57 PM

Well, I’m still alive. For some reason, my face hasn’t gotten puffy at all. Nope, no chipmunk cheeks here. The teeth came out relatively easy. Let me tell you, the needle they use to pump the anesthetic into your gums is very intimidating. When he shot up my left side, I felt my sinuses blow up. That was pretty neat , except for the fact that my damn nose and (right about here the pain meds kicked in)

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

9:51 PM

Ok, clearly the drugs they gave me got in the way of that last post. Since I’m still dosed, let me go over some highlights for all of you:

1. The doc wore this plastic cover over his face, and I could totally see the reflection of whatever he was doing to me at the time. Let me tell you – that surgery is AWESOME. I mean, they really beat the shit out of the inside of your mouth, but I was thoroughly fascinated.

2. I remember not being able to feel my bottom lip. That’s a neat feeling. Now I know what girls feel when they rub up against my stubble. Maybe I’ll take that into consideration next time I shave.

3. Trying to drink water when I got home with a numb lip. Looking down afterwards and realizing that the kitchen floor underneath me was covered in blood. Should have guessed that was gonna happen.

4. Calling a potential employer while doped up on pain killers. Result? No longer a potential employer. YAHTZEE!*

5. (right about here the pain meds kicked in again)

*Don’t ask.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

2:13 PM

FUCK PAIN KILLERS. Fuck vicoden in its stupid ass. Argh! AHHH! If only I had this much energy in real life. I decided to stop doing the pain killers yesterday so that I could tough it out. For some reason I started shivering uncontrollably afterwards. It was miserable, I tell you. Just miserable. I was whimpering like a little wimp. Withdrawal. Anyway, apparently I caught my someone’s flu at the same time I’ve been recovering. That would explain why my nose was all runny a while ago. The flu, cou (right about here I had to rest. You’d think I’d have more strength in me, since I’m only 21. Guess not)

9:40 PM

I’ve been sleeping for the entire day. Somehow I caught a flu. My teeth are fine though – no infection. I have no clue who the bastard was that gave me the flu, but when I find them I’m going to shake the shit out of them. Ugh. I take it back. I’m not a violent person. These things just happen.

I can’t concentrate. Everything is achy. Ugh. So weak.

Friday, March 14, 2008

8:12 PM

I slept for half the day. In the beginning I had some fever chills. Now I feel better. Almost 70% better. It turns out that I’ve been biting down on my inner lip. It’s been a bit swollen on the inside, so it looks like my back molars have been getting a piece of it. Yuck. But yeah. I feel a lot better. The only downside? I have two midterms this week. Monday and Tuesday.

I KNEW something would bite me in the ass and make it so that I couldn’t study for these two suckers. If I fail these classes I won’t be able to graduate, so for the next three days my bedroom is going to be the boiler room, just like it used to be called junior year when I drilled away at term papers and exams before they were due. You know when you’re sitting down, working in the same seat all day, and you get that fine line of sweat between your ass cheeks? Yeah. Boiler room. That’s what it’s called. I’ve heard one other person refer to their room as the boiler room. I was pretty surprised, especially because I had/maybe still have a thing for her, but I doubt she ever sat down for so long that her ass became a lagoon.

Psh.

Amateur.

So, what did I learn after getting my wisdom teeth taken out?

1. To hell with pain meds. If the doc told me their side effects before I took them, I don’t think I would have even tried.

2. The flu sucks.

3. Withdrawal sucks.

4. Studying REALLY sucks. Especially when it’s under pressure.

5. One more, major thing. Whatever caused the dreams that I had over the last two days, whether it be the flu, the pain meds, or the shakes I’ve been drinking before I went to bed to stop my body from releasing keytones and eating itself… I never want it to be in my life again. My dreams over the past few days have been demented. I mean, some were pretty cool, but a lot of them had this eerie ring of truth to them, like I’ve been hiding something from myself for a while, and the dreams have been cracking away at it.

And to top it all off, I woke up this morning, and my pants felt like someone spilled a gallon of Elmer’s glue on them. I mean, holy shit. Really? Let’s not even get into how awkward that dream was. Ey ey! It’s a loophole! Don’t judge me. You don’t know where I am right now!

Lent’s almost over. Keep your fingers crossed.

Fuck me in the ass with a 2x4

2008-03-10T01:24:00.003-04:00

Shit. I just sent the Assistant Director of my department my weekly report. I’m supposed to send her the hall’s condition report, not the weekly report! Oh man, this is bad. Let me tell you the difference between the two, so you can wrap your head around the humongoid pickle I'm in. The condition report is basically a very curt status report on the repair order condition of the hall. The weekly report is a very candid report that has a paragraph dedicated to how badly I want to masturbate now that lent is about to end. Let’s compare sentences:

Condition report:

“The heating system in the hall seems to be completely fixed! As of Friday, the hallways have even temperature disbursement. Hopefully this lowers our energy bill significantly.”

Weekly report:

“I’m almost done with lent. Thank GOD. I feel like if I sit on my prostate wrong it’s going to pop and sputter around the room like a balloon. I haven’t even had any nocturnal emissions. It’s been over 30 days. It’s like someone’s playing a cruel trick on me. I go to bed and DREAM that I’m trying to masturbate, but I can’t even finish in my DREAMS. WHAT THE FUCK, KEV?! Is it so much to ask for some crazy dream girl, like that hot blue skinned Jedi from Star Wars, to ride me like a bull in dream land!? No. The last time that almost happened in my dream, my alternate persona couldn’t find a condom, and I FUCKING WOKE UP. And when I wake up, my little pecker is just staring at me with that smug fucking look on its face, like it planned everything.” It gets worse from there.

The office is going to be weird next Monday.

Hopefully I still have a job.

Edited 3/19/09: Changed "send" to "sent" in the first paragraph. Have to work on that grammar...

Count down!

2008-03-09T23:49:00.001-04:00

Well, in a few hours I’ll be getting my wisdom teeth yanked out of me. By this time tomorrow, I’ll probably look like a chipmunk. I heard this one story (not to make any of you even more paranoid about a procedure like this) where someone getting their wisdom teeth out actually woke up with a broken neck. They didn’t realize that it was broken for a while though (don’t know how that’s possible). Ended up walking around for a few days. Even went to a chiropractor. Finally, the girl went to the hospital one night and got it checked out. She could have died if she moved her neck the wrong way over the weeks prior. Had to get two metal rods installed in her neck. God knows how the chiropractor didn’t break her neck. What a way to go.

Anyway, I’ve been seeing this girl on and off for the past few weeks. The problem is that she’s…sorta dating other girls at the same time. It definitely keeps things interesting.

DO be nice to every girl you may potentially develop feelings for.

DO treat all of your fellow human beings, regardless of whether or not you think you may develop feelings for them, with love, because the world needs more love these days (just saying).

DON’T rub your erect phallic member against a girl’s thigh/pelvic region while she’s lying next to you talking to someone else that she’s dating on the phone. Unless she has Verizon (shakes fist).

DO rely on your strengths when you’re with someone you might like. For instance, strong thumb muscles developed from years of being a video game fanatic can be used to give a killer back massage, pending that you possess the technique (mwahahha!).

DON’T, when going for the goodbye hug at the end of the day, stick your thigh between a girls legs, gyrate your hips, and repeat, “oh yeah,” in your best pornography-grade voice. Especially if you’re in public. Especially if you’re in front of the group of smokers that like to hang out in the front of your residence hall at all hours of the day. They’re really chatty.

DO make sure that you’re not sending the wrong signals.

DON’T kiss someone unless you’re sure you know all the consequences.

DO date someone because you like them.

So yeah…last night I staid up till 5 AM or so. My friend was over until about 3. We cuddled a bit, which I think might have been a mistake because I’m sending way too many mixed signals to this girl. But wait.

Wait!

Wait.

That’s for my private journal.

In less than 10 hours I’m going to have my teeth yanked out of me. I wanted to do it raw, without any anesthesia or anything, but my parents and the doc weren’t too fond of that idea. I tried to explain to them that I was taking 9 conditioning classes at school, and that I was hardcore*, but they explained back that the pain would probably make me try to wiggle out of the chair. The result is local anesthesia, but I managed to wiggle out of them putting me under. I gotta see this thing in action. I mean, how often do you get to be awake when some little bugger is prying out your teeth? Not to gross any of you out, but I hear that there’s this grinding sound that’s pretty annoying when they’re doing it. Anyway, as an aspiring writer, I think it would be a good idea to experience this to the fullest extent possible.

You can place your bets as to how much I’ll regret this tomorrow.

Lent counter: Day 33 (right?)

*Fun fact: I’m hardcore

Wasting away again....

2008-03-09T05:18:00.001-04:00

Who knew it was daylight savings time, or whatever they call it? Instead of being almost 4 AM it’s almost 5, and I find myself with less and less sleep under my belt. My left eye has turned almost completely red, because I decided to play video games for an excessively long time while sitting too close to the TV. Slightly painful…but being that it’s spring break, and that there’s no one really on campus now besides me, I don’t have to worry about appearances. My red eye can be my little secret.

Well…I never really worry about appearances…

Something funny happened to me Friday night. I struck out with four girls in a row. I really can’t explain how this happened because I have no clue how I earned an opportunity to strike out with four girls. And the reason why? Tried to make everyone happy. I’ll leave it at that, because I wouldn’t want to get any personal in front of prying eyes.

And now…every muscle in my body hurts. Well…specifically, my inner thighs, my outer thighs, all of my abdominal muscles (including my obliques), my shoulders, my biceps, and my pectorals. They’re all on fire. Even though I was in Delaware last week, which got me out of four conditioning classes, and even though I skipped three classes this week because of sleep deprivation/academic reasons, I’m still falling apart. The only physically intensive classes this week were Pilates and Energetics.

On Monday I get my wisdom teeth out. In nearly two weeks from now, I’ll be done with lent, which means that, if you’re a girl within a 1 mile radius of me at the end of March 23^rd, you might wake up pregnant. The ripple effect caused by the release of so much sexual aggression surely will not be contained by the four walls of my bedroom. I suggest investing in a full body condom. And not just any normal one – the thick kind that they use for anal sex. Yeah.

I’ve got some job interviews coming up that I need to start studying for. As well as two midterms. I’ll keep you all posted.

Heh…if only you guys could see my private journal…

Screw Meat Loaf. Screw professional sports. SCREW EVERYTHING. I'M DYING HERE!

2008-03-06T11:55:00.003-05:00

Today it was Meatloaf. I would do anything for love.

I would do anything for love.

But I won’t do that.

I feel like a bunch of guys grabbed me and just started pummeling the shit out of my stomach. I think I pulled one of my obliques (did I spell that right?). I’ve never had such a hardcore core workout before. There was one point where she had us mimicking one of the workouts that the NY Yankees do, where you drop into plank position and raise up opposing arms and legs. It was in Men's Health Magazine. You know a work out is going to be hard when the instructor admits that she has difficulty with it. She kept saying something like, “hey, the Yankees do it.”

I don’t even like baseball.

I used to play it when I was a kid, and I can’t stand watching it. I know, it’s the pastime of my great nation…but after today, I think I’ll start to develop a twitch whenever I watch Derek Jeter catch a ball.

I have to go have a little mini-conference with my boss right now. If my internal organs don’t explode in the meantime, I’ll be back later.

Day 29

2008-03-05T10:33:00.004-05:00

Well, I've made more than the half-way mark in lent. I tried not to talk about it as much in this blog (you should see my personal journal, whew, it's a rush!) because I thought it would make some people doubt my sanity. I mean...I AM psychotic, but I surely don't want the rest of the world knowing that.

Day 29. I don't get nearly as many random erections anymore - I've been really tempted to write about those (they get pretty awkward when I'm in the middle of my Econometrics class. "Jack, why are you typing with the keyboard pressed so firmly against your crotch?" "Uh...helps me concentrate"). It's like my penis lost all the fight in it. HA! Not to get overly cocky/confident when I haven't even made it through yet, but it looks as if I've finally got it in the bag this lent.

Today I skipped Aerobics because my coworker kept me up chatting till 4 AM. Whether he knows it or not, he made me realize that I don't have anything tying me down to my home state*, so when I join AmeriCorps after I graduate, I'm most likely going to travel to the furthest place that they need me. I don't mind, but now I need sleep. That's what I'm going to do now. I have to wake up later to panel the incoming Alternate Student Trustees. That should be fun.

Spring break is next week, and I'm getting my wisdom teeth out.

*no offense to anyone I'm friendly with that's reading this. I'm sure you'll find a way to get over that comment.

The price of not failing real classes...

2008-03-04T10:55:00.000-05:00

Finished my econometrics paper about 10 minutes before class started. Worst paper ever, but he grades based on the check system, so as long as I handed something in…

The paper ended up being 7 pages. Everyone else had 1 to 3 page papers. Maybe he’ll just give up on reading mine because of all the other papers? Eh? Eh?

Anyway…the price of completing this thing on time was that I had to skip Yoga and my Fitness and Conditioning classes. This means that I’ve been out of the loop since Thursday, when I was in Delaware. You know, even though I’ve been away from the crazy workouts…I still crap twice a day. I don’t mean to keep bringing it up, but it’s like I can’t shake this stuff.

I gotta run. Here comes another one. Jeez.

Progress

2008-03-03T13:52:00.002-05:00

Over break, it was hard for me to 10 ten pushups in a row. Then I upped it to 15. I haven't been doing random pushups at all this semester, unless you count the ones in Aerobics class. I don't know how this happened, but today I found that I could do 20 pushups in a row without getting tired. I know it's not exactly the fastest progress, but it's progress none the less! Man, it's been years since I've been able to do 20 pushups in a row.

I'd take a picture of what my arms looked like...but my camera seems to have walked off on me (stolen), so until I buy a new one, you're just going to have to take my word that my arms are at least 20 times bigger than Arnold Schwarzenegger's at the height of his bodybuilding career.

Maybe I exaggerated a bit.

FUBARed

2008-03-03T01:11:00.002-05:00

Yeah Jack, take those two hard economics classes. They'll help you understand the way your field works. Don't take astrology or an easy gen ed. Yeahhh. You'll thank yourself later.

FUCK. ASS. Really? Really?

Sorry, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to finish this econometrics paper and homework assignment by tomorrow at 6. This entry is going to sound pretty whiny.

Yeah, I know. Haven't been updating much lately either.

I decided not to take a job in ResLife right away. I'm joining AmeriCorps instead (a few people that I know at college want me to meet with someone first, and then I'm getting this paperwork fine-tuned). If the PeaceCorps didn't kinda want a college diploma to heighten the chance of acceptance, I would probably have dropped out of this waste of time and money a while ago. I'm paying for an education that I'll only remember 20% of. I could probably learn more off of youtube and video games than whatever they're teaching us in this ass backwards "developed" education system. SHIT.

Anyway, I'm expecting some company in a few minutes, so I've gotta make sure I don't smell like a savage yak.

Man, this post was all over the place, huh?

Reporting from Delaware

2008-02-29T12:40:00.003-05:00

Lots of people prepped for this conference for a long time, and here I am walking around with my package sloshing to and fro in these very revealing business pants.

Business pants.

They don’t offer the protection that real pants (jeans) ever to. Whatever you’ve got going in there, if it isn’t being held back by something, it’s going to show. Wallets. Cell phones. Each individual key. Slightly erect penises. You get the drift. That’s one of the reasons that I don’t like to wear suits. Maybe it’s just the brand I buy?

Anyway, lets go over the DO’s and DON’T’s of job conferences (maybe these are hypothetical. Maybe they aren’t):

DO dress professionally

DON’T forget to bring underwear, unless you want everyone to see your penis size.

DO sit up straight during interviews.

DON’T scratch your balls during an interview, tell your potential employers that you left your underwear back in your home state, and hock up, then swallow, a large amount of snot.

DO talk to the extremely hot and charming girls of Residence Life from across the states. If you’re good enough at chit-chatting, they’ll start calling you nicknames and rubbing your shoulders when they pass you by.

DON’T eat odd food that you haven’t tried before. You’ll end up getting explosive diarrhea. Explosive diarrhea, albeit funny, is no joke when you’re in the middle of explaining your generic strengths and weaknesses to potential employers.

DON’T tell your potential employers that your weaknesses consist of having a “loose anal sphincter” after farting excessively loud during the interview. They will not find it funny. Awkward silence will ensue.

So this really cute girl that I ran into during the “Networking Snack Break” started chatting me up by the brunch table a little earlier. As you may or may not have guessed, I’ve been having stomach problems over the last few days. I still go at least twice a day, most of the time it’s three. I figured that, after being out of conditioning classes for a few days, my body would readjust. I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but my friend told me that eating bananas would serve to block up the ol’ colon. But that’s only if I eat enough of them. I’ve only had one or two. I think it just made things worse.

The interview room is relatively big. There are a lot of tables in there, and they don’t have any leg room underneath them (I have large legs, so I usually end up bumping knees). The tables, to complicate things, are also packed extremely close to each other, so you end up interviewing right next to other potential employers. That doesn’t bother me too much. What DOES bother me are their damn questions. How many times to I have to explain my strengths and weaknesses? No, I understand, it’s a valid question to ask to someone that you want to hire, but I bet references will tell you almost as much. Some employers really seem to love my sense of humor – I had two staffs laughing so hard I thought they were about to cry. One table in particular seemed to be very somber when I went through the process with them.

Anyway, I decided not to be formal at all during the interview process, because I have this feeling that I should be joining Americorps before I jump into Residence Life for a few years. If employers don’t like me for the goofy little bastard that I am, then I don’t want to work with them. If I have to be anymore fake in the office environment then I’m paid to be, I’ll start throwing elbows by week 3. ResLife will still be around after I’m done joining, and they’ll still provide me with free (or close to it) Graduate school. Americorps will only take you till you’re 25, I heard. I’ve been looking into the NCCC branch (well…I browsed it), and I hear good things. People at this conference keep telling me that Americorps is a good way to go. Random people, and it just gets brought up without provocation. I think that’s a sign.

For my resume, I decided to drop all the information about the awards I’ve earned over the course of my ResLife service (and right about now, people reading this blog that know me are immediately slapping their foreheads). My mom’s happy enough with the plaques right now, so they’ve served their purpose. When I tell the people interviewing me about all the stuff not on my resume, they usually yell at me and tell me, in much more articulate words, that I’m stupid for not putting them on. That’s when I start breaking their balls. Normally they like this. Sometimes they don’t. Either way, that’s me.

Right around now I could write a book at how odd people get when they know they’re competing for a job, but that’s not what this blog is about. When I get back to campus tonight, instead of studying or doing work…I think I’m going to ask a girl that I shouldn’t ever think about asking out…out.

Funniest moment so far: farting in front of a cute girl while talking to her rather loudly, and attempting to carry on the conversation. Then farting again.

Wait, scratch that.

Funniest moment so far: blowing ass so nasty in the college van that one of my female coworkers started gagging. Wait, that makes me sound like a nasty, malicious little prick, doesn’t it? I swear I'm not! Well...at least I don't think so.

Ah. Blame yoga.

You are ill-prepared

2008-02-28T00:03:00.003-05:00

I’m in Delaware for the MAP-C ResLife conference (remember that I'm an Assistant Residence Director?). I forgot to bring underwear. I’m sharing a room with 4 of my coworkers. Three of them are girls. We’re all sharing beds. Two beds. I’m sitting down in my corner right now with a pair of puke green boxer-briefs on, a tight black shirt, and, for now, a white towel covering my mid-section. Something about this towel makes me feel pretty insecure. My junk is totally flopping around. My coworkers seem to think that this is a funny thing.

The last few days have been pretty hectic. I’m going to be in Delaware until Friday. Earlier this morning, I took my first midterm in Athletic Injury Management. I don’t really talk about that class too much, mainly because it all happens so early that it’s hard for me to remember anything that happens in it. A week ago I learned how to dress a sprained foot. That was pretty neat. Anyway, even though –

“Guys, my scissors! My scissors are missing. I had them in the bed somewhere, but now I can’t find them. There are scissors in the bed.”

Great. Now, while I’m huddling next to the only other guy sleeping in this cramped hotel room, I’m going to have to worry about accidentally rolling onto sharpened scissor blades. They’re waiting for me somewhere. Readying for the kill.

Uhm, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Athletic Injury Management is only two credits, but it’s packed with knowledge about the human body. I’m going to be a killing machine in no time. A killing machine…that can repair itself.

I’d talk more, and I know I promised I was going to a few days ago, but I need to prep for a bunch of interviews tomorrow (I need to pass the fuck out so I can wake up and not drool while talking to potential employers, in other words). My Econometrics and Economics of the Sports Industry classes have been kicking my silly ass around. Oh, what a world.

Edited 3/19/09: Changed "Yo are ill-prepared" to..."You are ill-prepared." Sounds better this way.

Jack vs. the Colon

2008-02-23T22:00:00.000-05:00

Well, sometime during the week I decided that I didn’t want to have to crap three times a day anymore, so I’ve been making a semi-active effort to eat food that will jam up my bowels. Mainly this consists of Dunkin’ Donuts and a variety of greasy foods, like chicken wings, washed down with some sort of alcoholic cider or sangria*. But…it’s not working. I mean, sometimes I only crap twice a day, but now, on top of that, my stomach hurts all the time, and I feel a lot more sluggish. I really can’t believe that the human body is capable of going to the bathroom this much. It’s tiring the hell out of me.

I’ll keep this update brief (so brief that the footnote is almost half as long as the update itself). I’m finally acclimating to my classes. Big thing happened this week during Aerobics: I was actually able to handle the pushups! That’s right, doubters! And not just normal pushups. Plank pushups. That’s the kind where you grab onto these raisers that tilt your torso up a bit more than normal. I looked up at myself in the mirror when I was doing them, and it looks like I’m actually starting to get some definition in my triceps! I mean, don’t get me wrong, classes are kicking my ass. It’s just that…this week, they kicked my ass a little less.

…I’ll talk about more tomorrow. Life’s been pretty hectic with my real classes (Econometrics, mainly), and I haven’t had nearly as much time to relax and throw together an entry.

*What? Me? Alcoholic. HA! Lately my tolerance has been called into question. I don’t mind the fact that anyone can drink me under the table (saves me money if the stuff kicks in faster), but when I was a bit younger I could down half a bottle of vodka in under an hour and still walk around all coherent. Of course, I was about 60lbs heavier at this time, and I also drank regularly. After months/years of hardly touching the stuff, I think it’s about time that I can have more than 1 glass of something without feeling like a truck hit me, so I’m trying to slowly increase my tolerance. Of course…it’s going to take a little getting used to (I was drunk for pretty much all of Friday), but sooner or later I think it’ll pay off. If I can raise my tolerance to having two drinks without feeling like a toddler that stumbled into his father’s liquor cabinet, I think I’ll run less of a risk of making a fool of myself on a first date.

Status Update!

2008-02-19T08:48:00.002-05:00

Alright. Just a little note: I think it would be kinda rude to post all the gory details about any date that I go on, even if I’m using fake names. For this reason, if I ever talk about a date on this blog….I’ll summarize it in a Dos and Don’ts section.

So, Friday’s date went pretty well. I’m not as rusty as I thought I would be, but there’s still plenty of room for improvement. She really seemed to have a great time…but…

The Dos and Don’ts of my dating life

DO make witty comments

DON’T think about odd intimate scenarios that could occur throughout the night and laugh out loud at them publically.

DO engage in witty banter

DON’T admit to laughing to yourself about thoughts relating to odd intimate scenarios that could occur throughout the night.

DO complement your date on what she’s wearing/how she smells

DON’T yell at your date in a crowded bar (the noise level was high, in all fairness), not to worry, because you CAN’T see her nipples when you look down her dress. Even if she asks. Especially if she asks. Just say no. And at a very low tone.

DO have a drink with your date if she encourages you to, as long as you don’t mind a good ol’ drink now and then.

DON’T down a Jack and Coke on an empty stomach when you have a low tolerance due to lack of excessive drinking for a year.

DO take your date to a movie if she wants to see one.

DON’T take your date to a movie that only you want to see. Rambo is pretty awesome, but for some people, it’s just not the greatest thing since sliced bread.

DO relish in the fact that she authentically means it when she says she had a great time.

DON’T forget to tell her that you had a great time too, or else you’ll feel like a major asshole for just smiling like a dummy after you drop her off without saying anything.

Anyway, that’s that for now, as far as the dating goes. I think she wants to go out again, so I’ll probably ask her later in the week…if this cold lets up (I’ve been coughing a bit lately).

Monday had me doing Yoga, going off campus for a doctor’s appointment (dermatologist check up – I had this ugly little skin tag on my back that I wanted to get off. Sorry if that’s grossing you out), and then heading back on campus to Fitness and Conditioning.

Yoga is starting to trouble me. At the end of every class, the instructor asks us all to meditate on a place where we feel tranquil, safe, and et cetera. For some reason, I can’t think of any place like that, so for the last 5 or so minutes of class, I’m left struggling for that relaxing feeling while every other lucky bastard is probably off in nirvana, hanging out with Buddha or…something. And it’s still happening. I’m dropping deuces at least twice a day. Full size. No punches pulled, and there’s absolutely no buildup to it. I’m just walking around, minding my own business, when BAM. Gotta run to the bathroom. Remember over summer when I was doing the random pushups? It kinda pops up like that, only instead of dropping down at the thought and pumping out 10, or later 15, I have to haul ass to the nearest bathroom and unload on a toilet like that scene in Predator (Schwarzenegger film) where all of the commandos start blowing their ammo into the forest.

Anyway, Fitness and Conditioning threw a curve ball at us today. It incorporated Yoga.

Great, Yoga. Another excuse for me to cleanse my colon. Whenever I but hear the word Yoga now, I think my anal sphincter just naturally releases, like it doesn’t even bother fighting the urge anymore. So we did some yoga. And then I crapped my brains out later.

This is a long enough update for now. I need to go shower and grab some breakfast, then maybe I’ll write about the crap that went down in my Econometrics class at night.

My name? Why...Last Minute Man, of course!

2008-02-15T11:15:00.003-05:00

Both my Aqua Aerobics and Energetics classes got canceled today, so it was only Beginner’s Swimming. I’m really starting to get this front crawl stroke down. I just need to practice my breathing a bit more. Thankfully, because these two finale classes were canceled, I can sit down on the toilet without having to grab both sides of the bowl again (and we focused on legs in my Fitness and Conditioning class this Monday, which I really describe [sorry], so I would have been double-fudged). Anyway, I have…A DATE! Yes, yes, hard to believe, but being annoying and never giving up really does has its perks.

Alex got the jump on me over in the pay caf a few days ago while I was talking to a few of my friends. She actually wants to give me a shot this Friday! Er…today. Tonight. In a few hours.

Shitballs.

So now I need to start thinking of something fun to do tonight. Using my keen wit, I managed to ascertain, from her friends, where she likes to go out to eat. I figure that I’ll take her there a little after I get out of work at 6. I wonder why she decided not to blow me off? Hmm… . Of course! She must realize that by the end of the semester I’m going to be a sexy beast, muscles taught from working out excessively every day, pressing myself to the limits of human capability, so she didn’t want me to slip through her finger tips so easily. Yes! That must be the reason! All bow down to my soon-to-be-legendary physique and good looks! AHAHAHA! AH HA-HAHAHA!*

So yeah, I’ll take her out to that place she likes…and then…I have absolutely no clue what to do. I haven’t been out on a date for over a year. If I ask her to go to a movie afterwards that might be a little boring (I mean…I like talking, and you don’t exactly do that in a theatre). If I ask her back to my ROOM to watch a movie afterwards she’ll think I’m only in it for a hump-and-dump. I can’t afford that now – I’m graduating in a few months and I can’t be an asshole once I get into the real world. ** So instead…I guess I’m going to have to randomly figure out what to do while I’m there.

My best work has always been done right before it’s due.

Well, wish me luck guys! Happy post-Valentine’s day! You made it!

*I swear I’m not this vain all the time. Honest! But either way, I think if you sound out the laughter, as opposed to just skimming through it, it makes me seem even MORE pompous than I normally am.

**– I wouldn’t be able to compete with all the professional assholes out there. I’d only be a GENERIC asshole, and as a generic asshole, making a name for myself would suddenly become that much harder. It’s only once you become a master asshole (not an asshole master – that’s too messy), that you really start getting ahead in your professional life. If only I had put more time into being a heartless prick while in college, then maybe…just maybe, I could carry it on into the real world and show them all how I do things. But no…I failed. Studied too much instead of going to parties. Damn shame.

Pilates and fireworks

2008-02-14T14:18:00.001-05:00

I knew it was a bad idea that I woke up and went straight to Pilates. The night before my friend stayed over, so (as most guys can probably sympathize), I had to hold in about 100 cubic feet of methane. Pilates had us focusing, yet again (surprise) on our cores. For the first 5 minutes of class, I was fine. Then we rolled onto our backs, tucked our legs in, and started kicking our feet out. Every muscle in my abs started to push down on my stomach. Then it happened.

It sounded sort of like a duck was being strangled, mid-quack. But it was low, so I was pretty sure I got away with it.

Then more came.

…Then the smell.

Luckily, only 9 people showed up to class today. Probably because of the weather. I feel bad for the poor girl behind me. Nursing major. Trying to study for an anatomy class directly afterwards. She was directly in the blast radius. I don’t think I would have gotten away with it if Madonna hadn’t been playing so loud (this time it was “Lucky Star,” released in 1983, before I was born).

In the spirit of Valentine’s Day…

I ran into Mel again. She never responded to that text I sent her before about going to the pay caf. Anyway, apparently everyone else calls her Melinda, so Mel isn’t acceptable. I thought Mel was short for Melinda? Whatever. Maybe that explains why she’s a little skeeved out whenever I scream, “Hi Mel!” in the hall when I see her. Anyhoo, I’m embarrassing the girl way too much, so I think it’s safe to say that I should back off. I don’t think she’s going to be the future mother of my children, you know? Everyone in the SGA office from the original incident still looks at me a little funny too.

That's all for now. Time for office hours!

Please help me

2008-02-13T11:19:00.001-05:00

Someone help me. I already had to run to the bathroom twice today. Once at around 7:45, and again, just a little while ago, at 10. How is this possible? It doesn’t even look like I’m dropping weight – I’m just crapping all the time. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not physically possible.

And now I have a cold, too. My throat feels all icky. It’s snowing/ice-raining like all hell outside. My back feels like I’ve been carrying cylinder blocks around all day. It’s like someone attached clamps to my shoulders.

I just don’t know. I thought my body would be getting stronger by now – that I’d be able to jump hurdles or at least squat thrust my way across campus…but instead I feel like an old man. I wake up grumpy, always on a lack of sleep because my friends keep me up late, with bags under my eyes. I walk around, feeling like human death. And I still need a damn back massage.

Fix your face (and your back)! Alt. title: Jack has a boner for murder

2008-02-11T10:47:00.000-05:00

I decided to put an adult content warning on my blog, because if I had kids, I wouldn’t want them to read this.

This weekend put me at a low point in my life. After only two weeks of conditioning classes, my back started to knot up. Not just with simple knots – it was as if my entire upper back was starting to seize up. In short, this lead me to text everyone in my phonebook, and IM everyone on my buddy list in hopes that some of them would be able to give me a back massage. Some of the girls in my phone book stopped talking to me midway through texting conversation. I think I creeped them out. It's alright. That was a risk I had to take. Some of the guys laughed me off. Actually, all of the guys I asked laughed me off. Some of them look at me a little funny now. Worse yet, my suitemate, let’s call him Bob, was at the gym. Bob is a pretty muscular guy, and we’ve been close for the two years that we’ve lived together, so I know he could have given me a back massage (I give them to him all the time, and I’m damn good at them – he owed me). He could have definitely worked out some knots.

Anyway, I was able to get someone over who didn’t think my random request for a back massage was THAT creepy. She gave me a massage for about 40 minutes (we alternated in 20 minute increments) while watching some show about the guy from Motley Crue's quest for love. My back still hurts though. But enough about that.

Classes. Today. Just a few hours ago, I had the following conversation on the way to Yoga after randomly running into a classmate that lives on my floor:

Me: “Hey uh…look, not to be awkward or anything, but does this class make you take some hefty-sized trips to the bathroom afterwards?”

He stared at me, than laughed: “Well, no, not really.”

There was a sizeable gap in conversation. I had just opened up to a near-stranger about my bowel movements, and he couldn’t sympathize.

But then, after some deep though, he spoke: “Look, not to be weird or anything, but uh…,” a girl I knew walked by and both of us stopped talking. Conversations like these weren’t for the public ear. She passed, and he began speaking again. “They say that you’re supposed to clench your ass cheeks together for the entire class.” The stranger continued, “Yeah, your ass muscle is like the strongest muscle in your body,” previously thought to be the jaw, but I could totally see that, in a jaw vs. ass muscle fight, the ass muscle would probably win for obvious reasons. I mean, where do you think the phrase, “eat my ass,” comes from? That’s right. Ass > Jaw. Makes sense now.

He continued, “So like, when you’re in the downward dog position, you should really be clenching your legs and your ass and leaving your arms all like…rubbery.” He wagged his arms around in the air, mimicking the supposed rubberiness that they were supposed to be embodying, and I understood. “If you think you’re dropping some serious deuces now, just multiply that by two.”

So for the entire Yoga class, I was trying to clench my ass muscles, because I thought that was the smart thing to do. I still don’t know if it is, but I have to tell you that it’s very hard to keep any muscle in your body clenched for an hour straight, ass muscle included, and I don’t care how strong it is. Of course…because of my repetitive attempts to clench my ass…it happened again. My second brain – it must have been pissed because I was actually adhering to my Lenten sacrifice. Round 2. It was on.

This time it happened while doing hip rolls on the ground. Again. What the nuts is up with these hip rolls? I wasn’t thinking of anything sexual, and AGAIN I was in the front row. It refused to go down, too, no matter what I thought of. Naked old men. Painful memories. Death. Destruction. People being blown to pieces. Children crying. The War of 1812. But it still bulged there, defiantly. I was wearing sweatpants. Thankfully, we were pressed up on the ground.

The teacher said the name of some unpronounceable pose that signaled the class to go get up onto all fours. My forehead vein popped out. I was nervous, but I had no choice. I had to stick to the regiment.

I stood up on all fours, and the thing deflated like a freshly untied balloon. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. Clearly…it was toying with me. Even though I was greatly troubled by the Sun Tzu –caliber mental warfare that my penis was capable of, I let out a sigh of relief and flexed my abdominal muscles up through my back, just as the instructor ordered. Damn, it felt good to do Yoga.

I just got back a while ago, and already I have this killer urge to go to the bathroom. We worked on our digestive acupuncture points for a period in the class. It’s going to be a long week. Fitness and conditioning in two hours! WOO!

It could be worse

2008-02-09T12:32:00.000-05:00

Friday was bad for a few reasons. Firstly, my date canceled. Well, to relay the message, she told me she never knew we were suppose to have a date on Friday, actually, so it’s not really her canceling. It’s just kinda…me not being clear enough again, I guess? In all fairness, I texted her saying we’d go out Friday after she told me she was busy on Saturday. I should have probably called. Well, I sorta saw this coming. On the bright side: last time a date canceled on me, she didn’t bother to actually tell me she was canceling (or that she was canceling because she was with another guy), so I guess this is sort of a step in the right direction. See? Making progress.

I had a plan B: going out to the bar and getting drunk with the guys, but that fell through because I felt like going to bed at around 9PM. Yeah, 9PM. I mean, I was up till about 2, but from 9 till then, I had absolutely no energy.

Now this is an aspect of taking 9 conditioning classes that I really should have thought through a little more. You see, all of my classes prettymuch start real early in the day, which means that I wake up at about 8 AM each day to get ready for them. 8 AM. Each day. Before this semester, I was a legitimate night owl. I loved staying up until the sun was about to rise. That might explain why I’m so pale, but whatever.

So I’ve prettymuch shifted my entire schedule around. This is no good for my social life.

And…unfortunately, it looks like we mixed yoga into my energetics class today. My stomach is starting to feel a little rumbly, so it looks like I’m going to have another rollercoaster of a weekend.

Yuck.

JACK OUT-

Oh wait, I totally forgot to let you guys in on something. For Lent, I’m giving up self-gratification (thumbs up). I know this sounds odd (I mean, I really don’t mess around with anyone, so I’ll pretty much be in a permanent dry-spell for the entirety of the Lenten season), but you CLEARLY don’t understand. This is serious. A person has to know their limitations. This is about controlling my own destiny. Being a master of my own fate. Putting a stop to my wanton desires.

I’m going to prove that Jack is no slave to his junk.

Everyone’s always saying that guys think with their penises all the time*. Now, I’m pretty sure I don’t have a brain in my penis (if I do, it’s really small and able to avoid detection when they ultrasound it), so if I really DO think with my penis, it must not be that smart. And if my penis really DOES have a small, undetectable brain (much like a cockroach has a second brain in its ass), then I can outsmart it, because clearly, my head has a much larger brain, and is therefore more powerful. Yes. So this shouldn’t be hard. (What scares me is that I'm not the only person to think this way, I know it).

Now, I have to warn you, I may start acting a little “funny” about 10 days into this thing. Sentences may become sporadic and badly formed (well…if they aren’t already), and there may be periods of time where you doubt my sanity. I’m hoping that, by day 30 (March 6^th, to be exact), I’ll be back to my normal self. On day 34 though…I’m having my wisdom teeth removed, so that’s probably going to be where the real test comes in because I’ll be all drugged up and free from those little inhibitions that keep me in check.

Anyway…let’s not think too far ahead. I’m only on day four, and already I’m feeling the effects.

Friday in my Energetics class (the one that mixed in the Yoga), we had to do this odd maneuver where we rolled around, face down, on our hips and pubic bone, from side to side. You’d think this would be uncomfortable, but after rolling around for a few moments…it…started to move. “This can’t be happening,” I thought. I was about to get hard in the middle of an Energetics class. If anyone in the class noticed, I’d get kicked out! The instructor would probably fail me, too! And I had her for two other classes! SHIT! I’d fail out of those also! They’d probably call security on me, and they’d beat the shit out of me with night sticks (or something) and leave me for dead behind the pay caf dumpsters! All because my damn third leg decided to show off in the middle of class. Hell, I wasn’t even thinking about anything sexual when it happened (that’s the way it usually works though, unfortunately).

Immediately I began to pray that our next planned movement wouldn’t force the class to stand up. Shortly after I was done praying for that, I tried to fall into a zen-like trance to force any sort of sexual energy out of my body. Then I realized that I had no clue how to fall into a zen-like trance, and by attempting to do so, I was just actually falling further and further into the mood. So I starting thinking of this wall that I used to have in my house when I lived with my dad. I used to put sentimental things up on it. Whenever something good or bad happened, and I had a token that made me remember it, I would tape it up onto the wall. Fruit loops wrappers. Receipts. Playbills. Anything you can think of. It started out pretty small, but after a while it took up the entire wall, and I decided to take it down. And now I just keep it all in boxes. It helps me remember things. Weird, huh? Well, I was in high school, and I also taped Mountain Dew cans so that they hung down from my ceiling. Obstacle course in case anyone dared enter my territory. My parents are probably still thanking God that I didn’t get into drugs.

And then I realized that my Johnson was no longer threatening to pop through my sweatpants. The class stood up shortly after.

Dodged a bullet.

So my conditioning classes don't stop at just manipulating my backside. They're also attacking my junk. Great. Awesome.

*I just pluralized the word penis. I always thought it would be peni, but Microsoft says otherwise, so I will not ask questions.

The Ninja Assassin known as Yoga

2008-02-06T20:14:00.000-05:00

Recovery diary, day 1: Monday

Today I had my first real Yoga class. I think it was pretty neat. The instructor that teaches it is on the older side, but she knows how to flex. Wow. The odd thing about yoga is that, when doing all the postures correctly, I can’t reach a damn thing. It’s like all of my tendon’s loose elasticity. If I try to reach my toes in the real world, I can do that without a problem, but in Yoga class? I can hardly reach my KNEE without feeling this intense tugging sensation all throughout my back.

Anyway, today the instructor casually mentioned that we’d be working on our digestive system. I thought that was kinda funny. One of my suitemates who took the class before told me that after a good class, he’d go to the bathroom and, how do you say…loose a few pounds? Anyway, I was looking forward to cleaning myself out, so I followed all the postures to the best of my abilities. When I left class, I felt invigorated and ready to take on the world. Perfect way to start a Monday morning.

Fitness and conditioning, my 1:05, got cancelled that day. I was a bit upset, but it was all worth it.

Recovery diary, day 2: Tuesday

Last night my stomach really started grumbling. For a second I thought that there was something wrong with some of the food I had at the pay caf, but I doubt it now. Normally, with food poisoning, I hear that you end up having explosive diarrhea AND projectile vomit at the same time. Although I felt a little tug at my gut here and there, I don’t think I felt like I was going to vomit. Today was Cardio Jazz Dance.

For class today, I decided to wear one of those fake tux shirts. Really dress up for the class. It got decent reviews. Anyway, that was my little moment to shine. For the remainder of class, I got my ass kicked to the left and right of the room. The instructor was really into the hip and shoulder movements today, so my ass was bouncing around the room in rhythm to…”This Will Be,” by Natalie Cole (daughter of Nat King Cole, for those who don’t know).

Anyway, she didn’t pull a John Denver on me, so I still like her, but then…after class, my stomach really started hurting. I had to run to a public bathroom, and I just UNLOADED on the first open public toilet that I could find. I didn’t even stop to coat the seat. That’s how bad I had to go.

Look, you might want to do yourself a favor and just skip the rest of this entry if you’re a little queasy towards bowel movements, but I gotta tell you, it was like…GREEN. It was like effing SWAMP THING shot out of my ass like a firecracker. The same thing happened later that night. What the hell did my yoga instructor do to me?! WHY DIDN’T SHE WARN US!?

Recovery diary, day 3: Wednesday

It kept happening. After that little stunt following my Cardio Jazz Dance class, I couldn’t stop going. It must have happened at least two more times. Luckily, not during any of my office hours. That would be awkward. I mean, having an overactive bladder is one thing, but when you’re crapping your brains out on top of it, well, that’s a whole other can of worms. I must have lost some crazy weight over the last few weeks. I don’t know how else to explain it.

Today I had Athletic Injury Management, where we learned about paying attention to the environment around us (so we don’t die horrible deaths or go into comas) and Aerobics. In the morning, I think I left another pound behind in my suite (I know, I know, it’s gross as hell, but if you’re ever planning on doing anything like this, loyal reader, then you’d better prepare yourself for worse) before I went, and afterwards…I was fine. I guess it helped that I pretty much stopped eating large meals to avoid the anal onslaught, but yeah, whatever. Hiney status is good.

My Aerobics class today was fun. We did that stair workout (where you take one of those planks, raise it up, and step on it, kind of like a stair [hence the name I’m giving it]) for almost the entire class. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I gotta say, DAMN, my knees got skinny. I haven’t looked at them in the mirror for about a year, but the last time I did, I remember them looking like little tree trunks all the way up. …Now I just gotta work on those quads.

So anyway, I’m fully recovered now. I just have to say, if you’re ever thinking of taking Yoga…be warned, it’s one hell of a time.

Jack OUT!

Apocalypse?

2008-02-04T12:27:00.000-05:00

Is the effing world exploding? A girl slipped a note under my door last night with her name and number. I just found it on the kitchen counter (one of my suite mates must have put it there). She wants me to drop her a line sometime. Since when did this start happening? I guess this is what happens when your man-boobs stop jiggling when you walk around?

C-C-C-Combo breaker!

Shotgun update!

2008-02-04T11:07:00.000-05:00

I’m giving it all I got captain! But I’m only one man!

Sorry guys, this one is going to be fast. I have an econometrics paper due at 6 PM on things I can’t even pretend to understand, and a sports econ journal article to read by the nights end. As soon as my 6PM class hits, I’m getting nuked, so hold your horses for a bit.

On Friday I was sauntering around the academic wings of my college. I had to drop off this Who’s Who info sheet to one of the offices at school*, when I ran into this girl I used to have a little crush on named Alex. She was on the phone. When I realized that, very soon, I would be jacked enough to actually take my shirt off without having to dim the lights first, I knew what I had to do.

It was time.

I walked up to her and started making the “hey, how’s it going?” hand motions (that’s where you wave your hands around in front of your head…and then mouth the words, “Hey. How’s it going?” The second part is pretty important). She gave me a hug – I guess the phone call conversation didn’t grab her attention too much. Hugs are a good sign, so since I was hungry I decided to continue.

“Wanna go grab a little bite or something at the atrium? Eh? Eh?”

“I’m sorry Jack! I just ate. Maybe next time?”

And then I did something that I consider to be a little ballsy. I smirked, and my voice dropped a bit lower than it normally does (that always happens when I do something that I think is going to turn out kinda bad).

“Hmm…how about you go out with me instead?”

Now, with Mel, I kind of just plopped everything out there. I was so nervous that it was analogous to me walking up to someone, then looking down and vomiting all over my shoes (not a pleasant experience – hopefully there’s a towel, or some other type of soft cloth around), looking back up at them, and saying, “so, wanna give me a shot?” So what I’m trying to say is that, comparatively, I’m making progress in short time. Aren’t you happy for me?

She glared at me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was surprised or because she was deeply offended. For all I know, on the other end of that phone, she was having a really deep conversation. But she looked so…I can’t really think of a word for it.

For a second, I imagined her eyes icing over, or maybe shooting laser beams out at me, frying me from the outside in. I thought the world stopped moving for a second. Ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone, where the astronauts land on some planet, and there are a bunch of people around, but no one’s moving except for some old short crazy bastard in a suit, and they have no clue what’s going on? Yeah. Kinda like that. About a year and a half ago I did the same thing to her (asked her out). That date never happened (well…she didn’t know it was a date, and once she found out she backed off. We stayed friends, but I always brought it up just to break her balls a little bit. I was even worse at asking girls out then than I was now, so you can only imagine how THAT went). Now…it was round two.

Then it happened. I THINK she shook her head and said “yeah.” But I didn’t know, because the shake was kind of like…in the middle. It was sort of like an up-down “yes,” combined with a left-right, “no,” so I figured that THIS new form of head shaking might be a newly emerging signal for “maybe” – DON’T get me started on maybes. The “yeah” was also mumbled. It actually sounded like someone punched her in the stomach before she said yes. Maybe that’s the effect I have on girls. Er…at least mentally. I lowered my brows, surprised, because I was expecting her to laugh me off. “Wait, did you just say yes, or was that a no?” I started mimicking her head-nodding pattern. Maybe this was how you were supposed to communicate with the opposite sex? Maybe men had it wrong over all the years?

“No, yeah, I said yes.”

Celebration time!

“Well, all right! Yeah!” I clenched my fists, ready to do a mock upper-cut into the air, kinda like Ken or Ryu from Street Fighter, but I managed to calm myself down before I got out of control. I was going to dance around LATER in private, not now. Right now I had to act cool, or else my cover would be blown. I hear rumors that, if you let women know just how excited you really are that they’re giving you a chance, they kick you in the balls and leave you crying on the ground, a former shell of what you once were. “That’s great. Well…I’ll let you get back to that conversation. I’ll give you a call later, ok?”

“Ok Jack.”

Oh man, her voice was all nice and calming. Maybe it sounded a bit shy? Yeah, maybe that’s the word. I dunno. Anyway, so it turns out she said yes. How do I know this? I clarified via TEXT MESSAGING later! HA! Mwahahahaha! Knew that shit would come in handy sooner or later. So we’re going out...uhm…I think this Friday? Oh jeez…I haven’t been on a date for a while.

Doomed.

In other news, Mel (remember her?) texted me back. She wants to go to the pay café one day this week. Maybe I didn’t embarrass myself that much after all? At least she wants to be friends (I mean, the pay café isn’t exactly a place you take a date…er…although I did take one to one (the Birch) sophomore year. That didn’t go too well). Hazaa!

Wish me luck on my paper, punks!

*(I managed to convince people that I was smart enough to slide into the Who’s Who guide for my college, so if you know my name you might see it getting posted in a few local papers. To all those people who have ever called me stupid, please feel free to eat my ass with a spoon. The first lucky 10 will also have the option of topping my ass off with either chocolate or vanilla whipped cream),

The day John Denver kicked my ass

2008-02-03T01:24:00.000-05:00

This week was so time consuming in its pain that I didn’t have time to write an entry.

I can honestly say that muscles I didn’t know existed (and still don’t know the name of) hurt. Badly. On Wednesday I had my first aerobics class. On Thursday I had Pilates. On Friday I had Beginner’s Swimming, Aqua Aerobics, and Energetics. The first week of classes I could easily handle it, as they were all introduction classes. But this second week…well, let’s start from the top.

Wednesday: Aerobics

Last Wednesday, the instructor told us she couldn’t attend, so we had to push the class back a week. So I figured this Wednesday would be easy. I arrive to the classroom, and to my surprise, the instructor isn’t there. The students were around though, so we all sat down and wait for her for about 15 minutes. After a while, she showed up. Turns out that the college put the wrong room on our digital schedules, so she went somewhere else. Seemed like a really nice lady. As I found out later, she’s actually the sister of my current Pilates instructor, who is also pretty nice.

So she escorts us down to the auxiliary gym in our fitness center, and tells us all to line up. She explains the class a bit, like any normal teacher would, and I expect to have a nice, easy, laid back class where she dismisses us early and I can go tinker around with some more spare time. Yet again, I am wrong. Very wrong. At first it wasn’t so bad. She lined everyone up at arms length from one another and had us more our limbs around to get them stretched out. I thought that was pretty fun.

Then she made us run. A lot.

I darted around the gym with the rest of my class. To my surprise, I didn’t crap out and fall back like I used to back in high school when I was on track. Could it be that I was starting to get some endurance back? Was I really becoming stronger? Maybe it was just a fluke, I don’t know, but I started to lap some people on the field, and I felt pretty macho. Score one for Jack. Then it happened. “Line up and place your palms flat on the yellow line.”

Pushups.

I hate pushups. They piss me off so much. You may remember from my previous posts that I did pushups randomly all break, and I was pretty kick ass at them. As a matter of fact, I became awesome at them, but there comes a point in time where you just get tired of an exercise. And now we were doing pushups. (Dramatic sigh). It started off easy. Reps of 10. But they did them a lot faster than I was used to, and I was already a bit tired from the running. By the time we got to the third set, I was struggling to push myself up. My sets in the real world, during winter break, were well-separated from each other. But here in Aerobics class, they take no prisoners. My arms started to do that thing where they tremble uncontrollably once you push yourself up on them. I started jittering around like I was a meth addict in withdrawal, and then I fell flat on my chest. This happened a few times, until I couldn’t push myself up at all anymore. I just laid on the ground, defeated, unable to move.

“You know, when the baseball kids practice in here, they throw up all over the floor,” a student said. My cheek pressed up against the odd texture of the surface. “Yeah, the coach puts buckets around the room, and when they have to go they just run to one of them and try to make it.”

I still couldn’t get up. Not even with that incentive behind me. My arms wouldn’t let me.

See that one point I scored up there in the above paragraph? Take it, tie it up between two horses, and tell them to run in opposite directions. Then take the severed corpse of that one point, grab a sumo wrestler, feed him Popeye’s Chicken for a day, and have him drop a deuce ALL OVER THAT POINT. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME IN THAT CLASS (minus the separation at the torso, or being pooped on by a large sumo-style wrestler).

Thursday: Pilates

Thursdays was time for Pilates again. Pilates went so smoothly last time. Even if it kicked my ass, I felt like a million bucks the next day. I mean, just a little burn here and there in my abs and my quads. The instructor came up to the front of the room. “Ok, I’m gonna put my CD in and then we’re going to get down to it!” She proclaimed, before popping her mix tape in. Then it happened. John Denver’s magical voice came on over the speakers. Now, I’m not a very big fan of country music. I don’t hate it. I respect it. “Oops. Looks like I grabbed my sister’s CD by accident. Sorry about that.”

Then she had us start to move. We began stretching our bodies around. This work out was all abs and legs, and it was brutal. Annie’s Song, based on Annie Martell, John Denver’s wife at the time, is an extremely sweet song written by Denver while hiking through a state park. When I heard it before (I believe my mom was a fan, or maybe it was my Grandma), I could imagine sunshine-lined roads. Bunnies eating carrots. Mother squirrels bringing acorns back to their dens, to give to their little baby squirrels, all full of life and cute squirrely goodness. Rainbows took over the sky. Peace rained on earth. “Let me drown in your laughter,” John Denver said. Oh, how nice. “Let me die in your arms.”

As sweat began to slip through my pores, I realized I hated that song with all of my heart and soul. And I hated John Denver too. How dare that bastard taunt me like this at my moment of weakness?! I thought John Denver was a good guy. Someone you could listen to when you really needed a pick me up. Now, it seems as if John existed simply to taunt me, as odd muscles in my legs started to burn and twitch. The poses looked so simple, but I couldn’t do them. Movements intertwined with song lyrics, and then it happened.

Pushup position.

The devil-woman* was putting us in pushup position only a day after her sister did (gasp!), and my arms still hadn’t recovered. No! Why!?

I could only get to 7 before I began to buckle. My arms began that twitch, a feeling that I knew I would be well acquainted with by the end of the semester. I knew what was coming. I pushed through about 3 more before my body began to dip, and then I fell on my chest again, panting. I tried to push myself back up, but my arms felt like jello. Do you remember when you were a kid, and you tried to pull out a gallon of milk from the fridge? And that gallon just effing KILLED you, like, you couldn’t lift it up without the damn bottle flopping left and right, pulling your arm with it as you concentrated with all the effort you had in your little body to pour yourself a glass? That’s how I felt. Luckily, I could still stand after that class. It wouldn’t last for long.

Friday: Beginner’s Swimming, Aqua Aerobics, and Energetics.

Friday is my big finish. My happy ending. My finale. I think Fridays are the day that I’m really going to have to rely on my staying power. If you think about my schedule, classes do get progressively harder, snowballing throughout the week until Friday hits. Then there’s the weekend to recover.

I woke up early in the morning on Friday because I was doing community service for my school. At 8 AM I was to be at the gym, helping set up the stage for a concert that night. Not a lot of people showed up for volunteering right away. By the time they did arrive (luckily), I had to head to my first class of the day at 8:40, so I got out of any major setup in the morning. Of course, being the leech I am, I grabbed a hold of some free orange juice and 1/8^th of a bagel that my little brother Sam gave me (he’s such a good kid, makes me really happy).

Beginner’s swimming, unfortunately, was no joke this time. I tried to go above and beyond by doing my freestyle stroke (which is actually called something like overhand…or hand over hand…or, oh wait, Front Crawl Stroke, I think! Yeah, that sounds about right) for most of the class. Unfortunately, by most of the class I mean for about 5 minutes of it. After I lapped a few times I got extremely light headed, probably because I didn’t have breakfast, and decided that, instead of drowning today, I’d rather re-learn how to float on my back and stomach. So I did that for most of the class. Embarrassing.

Then Aqua Aerobics hit. Aqua Aerobics killed me. I actually felt dehydrated in the water. I think next time I’m going to bring a bottle in with me. I’ve never felt dehydrated in the water before. The instructor for Aqua Aerobics is the same instructor that I have for Fitness and Conditioning and Energetics. Last year I had her for NIA. Sounds like a martial art, right? That’s what I thought when I signed up, but no. Wrong. It’s interpretive dance. Did I say that before?

Anyway, I can’t begin to describe how we were moving under the water at the request of our fearless instructor. Everything started burning after a while. Arms. Legs. Butt. Everything. And my balance is all shot to hell – I almost fell over a number of times. The girls in that class are really nice though, but this time I think I creeped them out. This may be because I was already a little out of it from my first class, but I think it was because of the white swim suite I bought when I was in the Dominican Republic. You see, when white swim suites get wet, they get a little see-through. I didn’t think about this when I bought them (my last pair o’ trunks got left behind, so I had to buy a new pair right away because we were about to go to some run-down water park before we came back home to the states), but now I do every time that I get out of the pool. Luckily there’s some sort of Velcro strap that goes in front of my junk, so that part isn’t all that out in the open. Well…unless it shifts a bit to the right. Or left. Whatever.

So Aqua Aerobics was a fun class. I’ll get into it more next week. The centerpiece of today’s classes was the soon-to-be-infamous Energetics. After Aqua Aerobics I rushed back to my room to shower, then I walked to Energetics. As soon as I entered the door, the class began. That class scares me. I found flexibility that I didn’t know existed in that class. Yet again, we did pushups (I really thought my random pushups idea would pay off more, honest), and I couldn’t hold my water for any more than 5. But then we did this odd little thing, where you throw one of your legs up so that your foot lands next to your hands, and you’re still in pushup position. All I remember is alternating that. Over. And over. And then switching to equally hard to fathom/describe positions that required me to clench my stomach muscles and ass.

The result? Whenever I go to sit down on a toilet now, I have to grab both sides of the bowl and lower myself down onto it, because my right but cheek feels like someone stuck a needle in it (my left cheek too, but I guess when I work out my ass, I favor my right side. No clue why). When I get into my car, I have to throw myself into the driver’s seat. If I try to go any slower, my butt feels like it’s about to pop out. I mean, I’ve heard stories of guys in the weight room who try to lift too much, and then BAM, their muscle/tendon/ligament just pops out of their skin or something. Imagine if that happened to my ass? I don’t want to. You shouldn’t be either.

Please do not think about my ass. You don’t know me. That’s creepy.

Anyway, I’m going to cut it short here. I know I haven’t updated in a while. You’ll get another one tomorrow. I’ve got some news on the O-Jahfuhg front that I think you’ll find amusing.

*Please note that I do not think any of my female teachers to be devil women (nor do I think my male teachers to be devil-men). I simply use the term for the sake of my writing style. All of my teachers are awesome. Oh yeah, and I love John Denver too. But don’t let anyone know I said that.

Yeah, I'm a lady's man (alternate title: more awkward moments from me to you)

2008-01-31T00:17:00.001-05:00

January 29, 2008, is a day I will always remember. For…at least one more day. Maybe a week. Ok, it wasn’t that memorable.

Cardio Jazz Dance. Up until now, I thought CARDIO Jazz Dance really didn’t have any Cardio in it. Boy, was I wrong. Once again, he called me up to the front of the room. And then the music started. Jazz hands were thrown. Knees and legs flared out in a demonic dance probably designed by Lucifer himself. I flew across the room, spinning around, walking in circles, praying to God that it would be over before my coordination caused me to fall, break an ankle, or worse. I had to take a water break.

Stop.

Restate. I had to take a water break. In the middle of a jazz dance class. The professor went out of his way to say the cardio aspect was misleading, and that we shouldn’t come to the class looking for a workout. I housed almost the entire bottle. By the end of the class, it was gone. How the HELL does that happen? And then it was over, and I was caked with sweat. But I felt good, because this time…this time, my friends…I remembered the dance moves! Also, one of the girls in class said she would have dropped it if it weren’t for me. HAZAA SUCKAZ! I mean, she was obviously lying, but it still made me feel good. Laugh at me now, and when you meet me in person I’ll Jazz Dance the shit out of the floor up to you before mule kicking you in the nether regions, or wherever I decide to be a fitting target at the time. The beating will be like all the happy scenes from all of the show tune musicals you’ve ever heard of, followed by the application of extreme, unbearable pain.

I felt so good that afterwards…it had to happen. Operation Jack Attempts to Find a Girl. OJAFG (pronounced O-Jahfuhg).

Back story:

About a semester ago I participated in a Singled Out game thrown on campus. Singled out, for those of you who don’t know, is where someone (man or woman), sits in a chair and asks questions to a large crowd of interested people behind her/him. The crowd has to answer these questions, and then match their answers up to what she/he wanted them to say. Everyone who answers wrong has to leave, and everyone who answers right stays, until only one is left behind. This person usually ends up going out on a date with the person in the chair, and they live happily ever after. Or something like that, I never paid much attention to the show.

Anyway, I, your fearless writer, managed to connive my way up to the final round of the tournament. I won in a two way tie because I was able to answer the fastest, so BAM, I had a date lined up. But I was busy. The girl that was running the competition, let’s call her Mel, seemed to be pretty nice. I didn’t know her too well, but she knew one of my friends, so that kinda gets you past a few levels of scrutiny. Anyway, she gave me her number and I texted her to tell her I was busy for the upcoming weekend, but we could plan something out in a while. She told me that was cool. But…nothing really happened. I got busy for the rest of the semester (last semester was hell – a lot of people got really agitated because I didn’t have the physical time to hang out with them, but that’s another story), and we never saw each other…until now.

So flash forward to the present day. Well…yesterday. A Jack almost 24 hours younger than myself is strolling down towards the book store when he runs into an almost 24 hour younger version of Mel. They lock eyes. He smiles. She pretends she doesn’t really know him (I assume because he’s at least 20% better looking than he was last semester, and the transformation caught her off guard, kind of like in an episode of Jerry, Montel, Geraldo, or…uh…Ricky Lake? Yeah. Kind of like at the end of one of those episodes, when all of the people come out and they’re all transformed by some backstage beautician. Only in my case I’m not wearing a dress or getting a new haircut), but does acknowledge his presence, so that…gives him the opening.

Anyway, my friends told me that it was time for me to start trying to make contact with the opposite sex again. I’ve been KOed in that department for about a year because of some depressing experiences (as I probably touched on before), so I figured it would be neat if I started by practicing on someone that I might have had a shot with. My friend Nicole, who was conveniently sitting in front of me at the time that I bumped into Mel, told me not to text her, but to go up and actually talk to her. Actually talk to her? But I’ve been reduced to beginner status over my year hiatus. How could I TALK…to a GIRL? Whatever. If I could stand 9 conditioning classes, I could handle this.

Oh, how wrong I was.

So I strolled down the hallway and walked into the Student Government office. Nicole told me she went that way. And then I saw her, this poor, unfortunate soul. Mel was busy talking to her friend. Some of the other SGA members started looking at me. Now, I know a decent amount of the people in the Student Government Association on our campus, but I had absolutely no clue who these people staring at me were. It creeped me out. They asked me if I needed any help. I was determined. “That’s Mel, right?” I said in a hushed voice, pointing. “Yeah.”

So I waited for Mel to finish off her conversation with her friend, who I DID know. And then it happened. She half-turned towards me. Something tells me that she started to turn back the other way, but since she noticed that I was making eye contact with her periph., had no choice but to actually face me. AHA! And the opportunity was laid on the table.

“Hey, you’re Mel, right?”

“(brief pause)…Yeah”

Ok, here’s the tough part. I had to actually figure out how to ask someone out while at the same time not stuttering or making an ass out of myself. Time slowed down, and in a matter of nanoseconds, my brain told me what to say.

“So uh…I won a date with you last semester, so I was wondering if you wanted to go out.”

Mission failed, silly brain. Mission failed. Possibly the worse thing I could say besides, “would you like to go out and make sex with me rofl rofl LOLzorz!!!1one” Please note that at exactly this point in the meeting, about 3 of the people looking at me started gaping their mouths open and looking between the two of us like I was about to whip a machine gun out of my jacket. The look of shock, surprise, and horror on the peanut galleries face was priceless, but at the same time, an indicator of probable doom.

“(longer pause)…Well, we could go to the pay café or something.”

The pay café?! WHAT?!

“(Sigh) You spent the Friday’s gift card we won, didn’t you?”

“(Pauses implied at the start of every sentence from here on out) Yeah.”

At this point I’m stretching for something to say so that the awkward silence doesn’t creep in. Oh, I know how to appreciate an awkward silence, but I don’t think I could have afforded one here.

“(Smarmy) Man, this always happens to me (forced light laughter). Alright, well, do you still have my number?”

And I fail miserably again.

“No, I don’t think you gave it to me.”

“(Looking defeated and cocky at the same time) Oh. Well…I texted you a few times, so I figured you had that too.”

“Oh.”

“It’s all good! I’ll just text you later on in the week or something. Maybe we can figure something out?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Awesome. (Pause) Alright. Well, I gotta go, so I’ll see you around!”

She just kind of stared at me.

I turned and walked steadily out of the office. Immediately after turning the corner, I heard laughter erupt behind me. And you know...that went better than I thought. A LOT better. YEAH BABY! I'm back in the ring!

So anyway, in the hopes that I completely misunderstood every form of body language conveyed through that little encounter, I decided to text Mel later on in the day. She still hasn’t replied. Man, my family name is totally dying out with me.

Frustrated and humiliated

2008-01-29T01:09:00.000-05:00

I was in the gym this weekend, doing a light kind of work out on my abs and whatever machine seemed to work out my ass and thighs, which I figure could use some sculpting. If you ever go to a gym, you know that most of the machines in it have a little person stickered to the side of it showing you how to do the workout. I noticed that all of the machines I was using on this given day had a female guide on the sticker. She had a tight little sports bra on and a pair of matching pants. Very flattering gym wear. I would ask her out, personally. Anyway, these machines seriously beat the shit out of me, so I tend to try and push out well under 100 pounds (except for this one machine where you kind of mule kick backwards – that one I can hit 100 on).

So I felt like being a little adventurous. It was a Sunday. A lazy day. A kick back and do whatever day. So I starting sizing up…the thigh machines. They were obviously targeted towards women. Yet again, that female avatar was there, spread eagle on a seat clenching her inner and outer thighs in a series of workouts that would probably arouse me if I weren’t so desensitized towards sexuality (thanks, 21^st century!). I straddled the machine. Of course, I’m a tough guy. If that skinny little girl in the picture could do it, then my plump little ass could definitely put up the weight.

So I sit down in this machine. There were these two pads that kind of lined up with my knees, and the object was to push them out towards your sides. As you pushed, your muscles would be pulling weights up via a pulley system. I put it up to 90, figuring it would be no big deal, and started doing reps. When I hit about 4, it felt like someone was prodding the side of my ass with something hot, so I stopped. Not gonna blow out a muscle as soon as the semester starts. If I failed out of my conditioning classes because a tendon snapped, I would have to repeat my final semester. Not going to happen. So, out of nowhere, this DAMN OLD GUY takes a seat on the thigh machine next to me and puts the weight down to 250. I stared at him out of my perif. There was no way in hell this old man knew what he was doing. He would kill himself.

I was too embarrassed to warn him. All I could do was sit and watch. And watch. And watch, as he put up 250 like it was a fucking warm up exercise. How the hell did this old man do it?

He grunted.

AHA! Just a show. Of course, the old guy was probably trying to outperform a young buck like myself. Amateur. He probably wouldn’t be able to take a shit for a week without holding onto something for support as his wrinkly old ass approached the toilet, to avoid the feeling of extreme pain brought upon by the muscle pulls. Of course, I was wrong. He adjusted the weights by 10 pounds and kept pumping away. I got up. I left. Why can’t I be as strong as old people?

All of my conditioning teachers are of soccer mom age or older, and they’re all 100x stronger, faster, and more agile than I am. I thought I was supposed to be at peak performance during these years of my life, but I guess eating Burger King for dinner every day after elementary school and playing FFVII/AOL text-based role playing games really does take that edge off. Nothing against old people, I just can’t believe they’re stronger then me. Well…some of them. I could definitely beat the living hell out of a few of the old people I’ve seen walking around the mall, or at Kohl’s. I bet some of them would give me a run for my money one day though – like that one old guy I saw with the Marine Corps tattoo on his arm. He’d probably get a few good licks in, but I bet if I came at him with a golf club or a 4x4 he would go down like a bag of bricks.

Either way, class today wasn’t so bad. They were simple introduction classes, since we didn’t have classes in session last Monday. Fitness and Conditioning along with Yoga. My Yoga teacher is convinced that it can cure anyone of just about any ailment, since it basically suppressed her diabetes and strengthened her eyes so she doesn’t need glasses anymore. If I can be half as dedicated as she is, I’ll be shooting laser beams out of my eyes in no time. Then all I’ll need is a superhero costume. I was thinking full-on spandex. Something that accentuates my package. Well…maybe I’ll add in a tube sock. Or two.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say of note for today’s classes. Basically we walked in, sat down, and got talked to. Nothing worth taking up your time. Tomorrow…it’s Cardio Jazz Dance…session 2!

Pain.

2008-01-27T10:46:00.000-05:00

So…sore. Let’s do a weekly recap, because I’ve been semi-recovering for a while.

Wednesday night at a meeting I got really pumped when talking about my personal life, and I ripped off my shirt (well, more like I threw it over my head wildly). Anyway, after I violently threw the shirt over my head I flexed all the muscled in my body and screamed. The reaction that I got from the audience was one of shock. Unfortunately...it appears all of the weight loss simply left my skin overly elastic. My stomach pouch flops around like it’s got a mind of its own. If I lay down on my back and look at it, the little bugger seems to have its own heartbeat, as if it’s another person trying to take over my body. Ever see that movie body snatchers? Or Aliens, with Sigourney Weaver? Yeah, that’s what I have to live with every day.

After my friends all gasped at my odd stomach and residual bitch-titties, I decided that fitness classes weren’t going to be enough. I had to turn the mush into muscle LITERALLY, and that means lifting. Unfortunately, I hate lifting with weights, which means I’m going to have to find some way to put on enough muscle without weights to the point that all these grotesque flaps of skin are stuffed with them. At the end of this transformation, I project that I will be able to crush a small child’s head between my pectoral muscles. I’ll also be able to crush coal into diamonds when I clench my fists, due to well-defined forearm muscles. How pimp is it going to be when I tell my future wife that her diamond ring wasn’t purchased at the cost of death/genocide in Africa!? AMAZING-WOW-FANTASTIC!

So the naked shower suite to room thing didn’t work out too well. One of my suitemates has his girlfriend come over constantly. She already caught me dropping a deuce on the toilet once when the door was open. That one in particular had a lot of fight in it, so I was grunting excessively at the time that I noticed her staring at me. That fits up there in the top 5 most embarrassing moments in college along with that one time my suitemate caught me masturbating during freshman year and didn’t realize it. He shook my hand goodbye just before looking at my computer screen, and things were never the same between us again. Anyway, just now she came out of the room while I was typing semi-naked at the computer, so I figure I’ll have to cut the naked for fitness shower plan. Guys seeing my junk jingling around is one thing, but if a random girl sees my excess fat jiggling across the suite while my balls swing to and fro, it’s time to cut the work out program and move on. Running across the suite is easy, so I’m cancelling that out completely.

Weekly highlights:

Thursday. Pilates.

Walking into the room, the only prior knowledge I had of the program was one late night infomercial that I tried out when I was an insomniac back in high school. That infomercial kicked my ass, but I had no clue what a light work out it was in comparison to the real thing. The teacher was extremely nice, but she seemed a little creeped out by me. Maybe it’s because of the shaved head, and the fanatic look of determination in my eyes. Either way, two of my suitemates joined up in this class. I was looking forward to just meeting new people in the class, but I’ll take it. The only bad thing is that they interrupt my conversations with all of the gorgeous girls I have no chance of getting. Le sigh. So the professor had us to some level 1, “beginners” work-outs. I can’t tell you what those workouts were, because the pain inflicted from them made me loose my focus. I felt like a hooker in stilettos crushed everything in my pelvic/abdominal region, then stole my wallet and left me for dead. She told us that she would be picking up next week with a much more advanced workout. Holy. Shitballs.

So after Pilates I signed up for a stretching seminar. I thought it would be a little different. At one point during the seminar they paired me up with the really nice facilities worker that plays piano…and had me feel up his back. It was a little awkward. He clearly wasn’t liking the program, which was kind of funny because he kept giving sarcastic comments to the two presenters, who made me feel like I was watching an infomercial. Anyway, I found out that the mobility in my neck was slightly impaired when looking right. The guy at the seminar said it was probably because of that time I got rear ended. By a car. That’s a funny story for another post.

Friday: Beginners Swimming, Aqua Aerobics, and Energetics, followed directly by office hours until 6 PM.

Friday is going to be a problem day. We didn’t do much exercising because it was the first day of the course, and the instructors seemed more intent on simply informing us on what we would be doing in class.

The problem with my Beginners Swimming class is that the instructor looks like this girl I used to be interested in. Didn't end too well - found out a week or so after our first date that she was with another guy. From the other guy. He wasn’t too happy. And now it looks like she learned time travel 40 years into the future and decided to come back and teach me how to swim again. Romantic, no? She’s such a sweet old lady though, and I remembered how to do the freestyle stroke because of her on the first day…sorta. Yay!

Aqua Aerobics didn’t put us in the pool at all, but I was still IN the pool from the last class, so I had to get out and shiver my ass off while the teacher huddled everyone else in a circle. Remind me to get towels today, by the way, ok? After Aqua Aerobics I took a long shower, which dried the hell out of my skin (Fridays are going to become a problem for my epidermis), and took advantage of the hour break to get a Caesar salad before going back to the gym for my Energetics class.

Let me tell you about Energetics. Take it if you’re a frigging mad man. I don’t know what the hell the instructor made us do, but it was just as intense as that Pilates class on Wednesday, and yet again it was a beginners workout. I remember jumping into the pushup position from a crouch and then doing a whole lot of leaning, before watching the instructor contort her body like a pretzel for us. She instructor told me last year that she was around 40, but she definitely looks like a late 20s early 30s kind of body. I’m jealous. Apparently she was diagnosed with scoliosis when she was younger, but her parents didn’t want to operate. She took yoga and stuff for a long time after, and now her spine looks perfect and she can do things that no 20 year old I know can even dream of. Unless they’re a gymnast. I just finished recovering.

Sorry about not updating for a bit, and about this lengthy post. As a reward for waiting, here is a picture of my extremely awkward stomach.

Post edited 1/31/08.

Capitalizing on a setback

2008-01-24T08:34:00.000-05:00

My sleeping pattern is changing. All of these damn fitness classes are at 8 or 9 AM. I hate morning classes, but this is something I’m very passionate about, so I’m not going to let the 8AMs stop me. Last morning I had Athletic Injury Management. The trainer that taught the class seemed like he could – OH! OH MAN! AHHHedsjkfhskj

Guys, I don’t know if this is too much information than you can handle, but I’ve been constipated ever since last night, and the mere THOUGHT of the Pilates for Body class that I’m about to go to in a few moments just made my intestines loosen up, and I crapped my brains out. No, not here, in the bathroom. Man, that was intense. Definitely not the most hardcore deuce of my life, but definitely up there.

Anyway, the trainer that taught the class seemed like he could just throw a crescent kick at any moment, that’s what I saw when I pictured him, so naturally I took a close seat, because I like to live dangerously and I believe that my previous dedication to Virtua Fighter 4 (I bought the strategy guide) had trained me for any close hand-to-hand combat scenario. If I can master Akira, then I can take on the world. Anyway, class went on for an hour, the professor talked about a lot of cool stuff related to injury management. For our final lab (yes, the class has a lab), we’re going to have to tape up a joint. If I knew how to do this back in the day, then maybe my damn ring finger would have healed right.

And…unfortunately…my Aerobics class was cancelled for this week.

I was distraught. I didn’t know what to do.

So I decided to add onto my random pushups workout plan. Yes, random pushups throughout the day are back, but they aren’t enough. Right now I’ve only had two conditioning classes – only one of them somewhat physical – and I needed my fix. And every time after I yell “Hello bitches!” at the top of my lungs at the entrance of my suite, I had to drop everything I was carrying, hit the floor, and drag myself break-dance style across the suite and into my own personal room. But that wasn’t enough either.

So now…now at night, whenever I take a shower, I have to run naked across my suite and to my room, undetected. I think that this training exercise will greatly improve my ninja-like skills, and will undoubtedly raise my heart rate. More to come when I get back, including information on what happened last night – right now I need to run to Pilates, and later in the afternoon I signed up for a stretching seminar.

As one of my heroes would say, it’s time to turn this mush into muscle. RARGH!!!

Jump!

2008-01-22T23:15:00.000-05:00

Today was the first day. Filled with anticipation after office hours, I ran up to my room and began to change in a frenzy. I ripped off my jeans and threw them across the room, then danced around trying to find a pair of gym pants. My head, nearly bald because I shaved off all my hair in preparation for the massive amount of sweat my body would be doing over the next few weeks, felt like it was vibrating, I was so excited. I felt like I should have had some sort of superhero music going on in the background – kind of like I was a power ranger, or whatever, transforming to kick some ass (I never watched the Power Rangers, but I heard it was a neat show). I looked at myself in the mirror, mid-jump into the mostly polyester gym pants that I owned (the only pair), my junk jiggling to and fro because I was wearing a larger pair of boxer briefs from back when I was a bit on the plumper side, and I realized something. It was go time. This thought hit me so profoundly, as a matter of fact, that I actually said it a few times to my suitemates, who stared at me nervously as I ran around the suite. “HEY! Do you know what time it is?! It’s GO TIME!”

I had a new work-out plan to supplement my conditioning classes: whenever I entered the main suite, I had to drop down on my chest and drag my body across the suite using only my arms and wrists. It really works out the core (it also gives me added incentive to keep the floors mopped and vacuumed to the best of my ability). Oblique muscles, is that what they’re called? Yeah, sure. So I flopped around my suite like a madman, grabbed all of my gym gear, and…walked in an extremely fast manner to class (I do not yet have the endurance to run to class. Last semester, when I would constantly be fighting the clock, the fear of being late was enough to push me into running to class without passing out along the way, but this semester that fear is gone).

On my plate today? My first course of the semester - cardio jazz dance. I stepped into the classroom and gave my greetings to the instructor. At first he seemed a little taken aback by my energetic hello to be a member of the cardio jazz dance experience, but in no time flat he warmed up to me. We began to talk a little bit about class structure. There was supposed to be another guy around somewhere, but he didn’t show up, so I’m assuming he dropped out at the last moment. Do you know what this means? Do you know what this means!?

This means that I’m the only guy in a class of about 15 girls! My mom keeps praying that I’ll find a girl that doesn’t screw around with my head and leave me crying in a corner, so maybe this semester holds a future wife in my hands, who knows?

The professor, an extremely nice man that’s sort of balding (he has that ring of hair left around his scalp, but the center is totally gone) talked to us for about 10 or 20 minutes. He had us all introduce ourselves to each other. The class seemed to find it extremely amusing that I was taking 9 conditioning classes, and that I had completed my major. Some of them seemed pretty shocked, but no one seemed to hate me or think I was seedy right off the bat (give them time), which is a good thing. After we introduced ourselves, our leader wasted little time getting us up and dancing. Suddenly I found myself sashaying, sticking out my hips in odd directions, and waving my hands back and forth like I was mimicking a scene from the Bird Cage, with Robin Williams (good movie). My heart rate didn’t really go up much when we moved around (which is odd, because the class is called CARDIO jazz dance), but I did notice my heart rate spike whenever I had to do a dance move I didn’t know.

Then the professor lined us up. He called me forward and placed me in the front row, then instructed all of us that we had to dance across the room in a certain pattern. So, nervous as I was, I attempted to make that damn gym classroom my own, and I glided awkwardly from one end of the room to the other with two of my classmates acting as wingmen…er…wing women? The instructor always leaded, and for the Love of God, that man knows how to move, which was surprising to me because he’s relatively older than I am. Something tells me that all of my conditioning teachers are going to be a lot older, and a lot stronger than I am. Humbling. I need to get into game shape.

When class ended, I didn’t work up much of a sweat, but instead…a healthy amount of humiliation. He gave us a homework assignment: watch any dance show or movie before the next class. No paper, just movie watching. My residence hall has a movie theatre on the first floor, so I’m going to try and rent it out for the class to watch Riverdance with me (my mom has it on VHS). Maybe some of the professional dancers in class can give me some pointers. I need them.

So, what did I learn today? For one, I cannot dance. I cannot move fluidly around a room. I have minimal coordination skills. I hold myself too stiff, and whenever someone says to lead with your hips, I get the urge to ferociously hump the shit out of the air in front of me like a toy poodle does to a stuffed animal, as opposed to simply sticking my hips out. But…the class seems to like when I try to move in rhythm to whatever odd dance music the instructor plays. By the end of the semester, I’ll be sashaying around that damn room like I’m a true master of jazz dance. Fear my dancing skills.

I also had my first regular class of the semester today, which deals with the economics behind the sports industry. It was nice, but that’s not for this blog.

Oh, and by the way, I ran into Sara after my class. She told me that the reason she didn't talk to me for a while is because she had to go down to Florida and help her grandparents out because they got sick. Let's see what happens.

About time...

2008-01-20T22:08:00.000-05:00

Last night I ended up staying awake until 10 or so in the morning. I made the mistake of falling asleep after the 80s party (thrown by the training committee) at 8 pm, and I woke up at 12. From then on I couldn’t sleep, so I went to 7:30 mass and passed out after I got back. Woke up a few times from people calling me. My hands are pretty chapped. Training had me running around outside a bit, so the winter weather really took care of them. In 48 hours I will be recovering from my first day of conditioning classes and full-on work.

It’s time to test my mettle, baby! Let’s see how this training schedule really worked!

Starting to grow wings

2008-01-15T19:42:00.001-05:00

Everything has been going smoothly. I haven’t been doing nearly as many random push ups. For some reason I’ve had other things on my mind, but whatevs. Today I went to the gym and mixed it up a bit though. Did some weights and tried to work out my…uh…I think they’re called triceps, if I remember from when I threw shot in high school. Yeah. That was an interesting experience, mainly because I can’t lift nearly as much as I have in the past. I do have a decent amount of definition left under there though, I can tell. Sooner or later, these muscles are going to be blooming, baby!

Training, which happens before the start of every semester for my industry, starts tomorrow morning at 8:45. Wish me luck, because we’re in the final stretch of prepping before the semester takes me for a wild ride. I’ll start handing out the link to this as soon as the semester starts. Right now…I’m just getting used to things.

The sad routine emerges...

2008-01-10T01:12:00.000-05:00

Wake up. Go to the gym. Go to work. Play video games. Lather, rinse, repeat. My eyes are so red. It hurts to blink.

Bad news on the medical front

2008-01-08T01:24:00.000-05:00

Sorry about not posting earlier. I’m still a little sluggish from the pitcher of sangria that I had at the Macaroni Grill. Today was the pits. I woke up and went to the gym, and then it all went down hill. When I got back I went into work. It was the usual. Then afterwards I had an appointment with the hand doctor. About a year ago I caught a football wrong and it jammed the hell out of my finger. My mom said that it probably did something to the tendon. For the last year I’ve been stretching the tip of my finger out, trying to get this tendon to get back into place. My left handed ring finger. The 4^th digit, as they call it in the doc’s office, I think. Anyway, so I go into the office today for a 4:45 appointment and end up waiting about an hour and change in the lobby for him to call me in. We get called in and I end up waiting another hour or so in a room after I talk to a nurse. Apparently I had what was called a mallet finger. When it first got injured I went to the hospital and got an x-ray. They said that my finger was in fine condition – no broken bones, and that it was probably a tendon.

Yeah, what they meant to say was, “hey, jokes on you pal, you’re fuxxored! Lolzorz!!!11one”

The doc that I went to today had me take a new x-ray. Right on the spot. As it turns out, my finger was apparently broken a year ago. The bone healed the wrong way, and now for the rest of my life the tip of my ring finger is going to be deformed. What a bag of ass. The doctor said he could fuse my bones together around the break if I wanted it to look right, but I would loose any of the little mobility I had left in it. I told him to eat it (well…politely). I’ll keep my crooked ass ring finger. It’s not like I’ll be using it anyway. The doc said that the pain I was experiencing was early arthritis. That would explain why I can’t make a fist and punch anything with that hand, or play guitar hero for a prolonged period of time.

I’m a tad upset about this. So, right after the appointment, I got a ride to the Macaroni Grill and funneled down a pitcher of sangria. I’m not a fan of how they make it there, nor am I a fan of alcoholism in any of its incarnations (especially since it runs in my family), but that didn’t really stop me from chugging that thing faster than I’ve ever chugged a pitcher of poison in the Macaroni Grill before. Yee-ha.

I’m going to go play video games until I’m sick of them, and hopefully get enough sleep for my 12 – 3 tomorrow.

I pledge to anyone reading this little pile of words that I’m writing: this finger isn’t going to get in my way. By the end of this semester, come hell or high water, I’m going to rock some faces off.

Training has been postponed one day to mourn the fallen ring finger. No random pushups during this entry. It will resume promptly on the 9^th.

Habit forming

2008-01-06T16:56:00.000-05:00

My computer smells like it’s going to start smoking any minute now. Someone in my org theory class knocked it over mid-semester and the hard drive stopped spinning. Said he didn’t have the money to help me pay for getting it fixed. Ugh. That’s pretty mean, huh? Anyway, so now that it’s fixed, for some reason it smells a little odd after its been on for a while. Sorta like smoke. I’ll have to get it looked at. Maybe I’ll have to get one of those external fans for it, I dunno.

Either way, my training plan has been working on schedule. Whenever I write one of these entries I usually end up doing around 2 or 4 sets of pushups. I’ve been making my own meals, too. Today I woke up and cooked three eggs. For lunch, I blended some milk and fruit together, along with some ham, turkey and cheese. Uhm, ham turkey and cheese on the side, that is, not in the blender. I don’t know if that’s entirely healthy, but compared to the cafeteria food it’s a step up. Also, I bet it’s saving me a bit of money.

I ran into my friend Lauren yesterday as soon as I got out of my 4 PM to 12 Desk Attendant shift (sat in a couch and watched the door to record everyone who entered and exited the building. Funny thing – if anyone determined really wanted to get into the building, there’s not much I could probably do to stop them. No bullet proof glass around me either, and I don’t remember much from that two week Karate pass I took when I was in elementary school. All I could do was sit back and hope that security could get to me before I cross into the next plane). She was surprised that I was able to keep so much weight off from six months ago. Oh, perfect! Let me give you a little background.

Last summer I decided to volunteer for a service trip into South America. The group I went with stayed there for two weeks, living in remote mountains with the locals, doing hardcore manual labor, delivering supplies, and teaching kids lessons about math and science (along with some arts and crafts). In those two weeks, I somehow managed to loose 20 pounds. I ate more than anyone there for breakfast lunch and dinner. I assume I dropped the weight so fast because a) building things is a physical pain in the ass that beats the living hell out of your body, b) I mainly drank water, although, if given the chance, I would have gulped down all of the tea and coffee they had down there. I bet they filter some coke into that brew. There’s no other way I could take to it so strongly. I hate coffee, and c) I didn’t have any meals on the side. No snacks. Yep, that’s how it happened.

And for an entire semester, I’ve managed to keep the weight off. Most of it. I can tell…it’s starting to creep back on. I’ll be damned if I let myself become a fat little dumpling again. Its time to get a six pack. It’s time to get those weird crotch lines that Brad Pit has in Fight Club. IT’S TIME!

RAH! Anyway…where was I? Lauren. Eh, we had some hot cocoa and went our separate ways. End story. I gotta go do some pushups. - Start making it a habit. Talk to you later.

The gym

2008-01-05T09:27:00.000-05:00

This post should have been up last night, but my connection threw me for a loop. Sorry.

Today I woke my sorry ass up at 8:30 and dragged it to the gym on campus. Brought one of those industrial sized water bottles with me, and wore an oversized sleeveless t-shirt that my dad got me from a big and tall back in the day. I then proceeded to…do cardio. Went on this machine called the elliptical for a while and did it backwards (works out the buns), then I switched it up and took a brisk walk at the highest incline set. All about the lower body today, you know? At least at the gym. The rest of the day saw me doing some random pushups, yet again. I’m switching up where I place my hands, because I heard that you work out different muscles depending upon how far away you are from the center. If I go wide I can do 15, but if I put them more towards my center I can only push up about 10, and I’m all off-balanced the entire time. PITIFUL. But soon…yes, soon…I will be pumped. I’ll be so huge I won’t have a neck anymore. Well…maybe not that huge. I want to have muscles, but not to the point where I loose the range of motion necessary to wipe my own ass. I’m not rich enough to hire someone to do that for me. Yet.

Anyway, after the gym I ate what was possibly the greasiest ham egg and cheese my school cafeteria had to offer, and shortly after gobbling it all down (I ran out of food last night and decided to eat 9 chicken finger/nugget things instead of going out and getting a healthy alternative. I was hungry) I vowed to make my own food from now on. So after work, I went home, watched Shoot ‘Em Up with my dad, and then went grocery shopping after eating a truckload of sushi. Let me tell you about Shoot ‘Em Up. It has everything I want in a movie. Car chases. Gun fights. Witty lines. Good death scenes. Oh yeah, and Monica Bellucci, quite possibly the most gorgeous actress of our time.

Not much else all that swell happened today. I have a feeling the next few updates will be short.

Slow and steady

2008-01-03T23:23:00.000-05:00

9:04 PM

Convinced Sara to go out with me instead tonight! Woo! Now I just have to wait for her call. I’m going to hop in the shower and turn off the computer. I really didn’t trust that other guy. Haha, guess I have it in me after all, huh!?

11:25 PM

Well…I didn’t end up going out with Sara. She started sounding depressed out of nowhere and told me that she was staying home and going to bed. I called back a bit later, she apologized, then hung up on me. I don’t really know what to make out of that, but I decided not to call back. Maybe she just needed a little time off, or maybe I smell really funny. You know…I used to wear Toms of Maine a lot, but I lost my stick so I switched over to some Right Guard. Every now and then, don’t let anyone else know this, I switch it up and use some Dove. That stuff smells pretty good, I’m not gonna lie. Anyway, back on subject, pending Sara wasn’t bending the truth, at least I was able to get her out of going to the bar with that other guy.

ON THE TRAINING FRONT: Today saw me doing a lot of pushups. Damn it, I just thought of pushups. Hold on a second. Whew. Ok. Whenever I think of the phrase I do 10, then move on to whatever activity I was currently in the middle of (and I just had to do 10 more because I ran through this sentence while proof reading). Of course, when I’m in the office I don’t do them…unless I can find a way to sneak into the storage room. I don’t want to freak out my coworkers that much. I watched 8 mile a little while ago, and every time that little bastard Eminem took off his shirt or wore a sleeveless, I thought of them. My arms are killing me. 8 Mile. Good movie, I recommend it. Deep. Anyway, I can feel my arms getting jacked already. I’m off to a good start. Yeah, it's going to be a great year. At least physically. I hope.

Moving on, the office wasn’t that bad today, probably because no one’s living in the building besides staff. After work got out I took my friend Lindsey out to get a burrito and whatnot, then I rushed back to campus for a meeting. Pretty generic stuff, right? No. This meeting was held directly next to an old arcade system that played all the classics, and today, yes, today, was my day to beat the living hell out of Final Fight. That game tortured me when I was a child, and I was ready to exact my revenge with unlimited continues (the machine was rigged not to accept cash). As soon as this meeting got out, me and Lin went at this game like lions for the kill. I was throwing so many punches in rapid succession (not literally) that my tendon started to hurt in my right arm, but I wouldn’t give up. Of course, I was Cody. I remembered him being a lot more macho when I was younger. Now he’s just some weird guy in a t-shirt with an odd haircut. I’d much rather be Guy…he’s got some sort of karate gi working for him, but I digress. Final Fight taught me something. If you’re ever in a pickle: jump kick the shit out of everything around you. Nothing can stand up to a jump kick. And if it can? Do another one. Sooner or later, you’ll be flooring suckers left and right.

Whew, I’m tired.

Applebees and balls of steel

2008-01-03T01:40:00.000-05:00

I moved back to campus today to start the winter interim job. My room’s so cozy, and I’ve got the entire suite to myself until the semester starts, so I’ve got to start making some plans. - Didn’t really have much time to reorganize though. As soon as I got back to campus I went out to get a nice, filling egg and cheese on a blueberry bagel. Sounds weird, tastes great. I recommend it. When I got back I went right into office hours.

I work in Residence Life. Most people who go to college associate that with the RA (the guy/girl on your floor that’s supposed to be real savvy and helpful). Hate it or love it, I was an RA for a few semesters. Not anymore though, I got promoted to a facilities related position on campus now, and I make sure everything is in working order within the residence hall. I still do RA duties, but it’s an entirely different position. I get paid about 25 cents more. No, not per dollar. Per pay check. I’m exaggerating, but still. The job’s not about the money. I’ll talk your ear off about it later. We’ve got plenty of time.

Today I re inventoried a bunch of confiscated items and reorganized them into boxes. Nasty. Other than that I reprogrammed some doors and did generic office reorganization/inventorying work. Tons of fun.

ON THE TRAINING FRONT: I devised a new work out scheme. Whenever I think about pushups or some other exercise, whether it be while watching TV or in mid-video game session, I have to do them. It’s important that I start to build myself up, because if I break a bone or pull a tendon out of place, I won’t get the passing grade for my conditioning classes. The result? I WON’T GET MY DAMN DIPLOMA because I won’t get the pass grade for the classes due to lack of attendance. My last semester of college doesn’t rely on academics, but athletics. I’ve gotta combine this with a lot of walking…or something. You know, to switch things up. Today I didn’t have much time for anything though…I went out about three separate times to eat or have a coffee or have a drink with someone.

I just got back a while ago. Lots of odd conversations, let me tell you.

Edit, January 5, 2007: Decided to delete a bulk of the personal information from this section. Had a feeling it didn't belong here.

So I got a phone call from my friend Sara, who I’ve had a little crush on since freshman year (she shoots me down pretty hard whenever I ask her out, but we still hang out), and she wants to go out to Applebee’s with me. Sara comes to pick me up in her pajamas. We end up talking at the place for a while. She told me that she was really interested in this guy she met at a bar with her parents a while ago, and I pushed her into calling him. She acted like she was in high school, all embarrassed when she put the phone down. She tried to hide under the table. It was really cute. Anyway, the guy asked her out for tomorrow night. Joy. Then I found out that, apparently, the guy drove her home a little bit on the drunk side after they left the bar (she stressed that it was only 5 minutes away, but that’s a serious red flag) and then she dropped me back off on campus while I tried to convince her to cancel the date with that guy. Didn’t work out too well, but I’m going to try again tomorrow. Now I’m here, writing this, and in a few seconds I’ll be going to bed.

And so it begins...

2008-01-02T00:53:00.000-05:00

Waking up in a cold sweat. The development of a nervous twitch. Last semester was tough. Very tough. Intermediate microeconomics threw calculus at me that even math majors had trouble with. I broke three pencils and a pen during my finance final. Towards the end of the semester, I wanted to roundhouse kick everyone in my organizational theory and behavior class. I was shooting for Cs (hey, C is for certificate). Ds even (and D is for diploma). As my last exam ended and the dust began to settle, I didn’t feel any kind of ease. No weight was lifted off my shoulders. I was left with a feeling of self-doubt and emptiness.

This semester, I was finishing my major (economics), and setting the tempo for the final semester of my undergraduate career. Failing a class would train wreck my plans. And for some reason, throughout the semester, I didn’t care. A dean’s list student – I had been earning 4.0s for three semesters straight, and nothing below a 3.5 before that, don’t ask me how…but for some reason, this semester I lost my edge. All motivation to work was lost. The classes I took were hard, but nothing out of my league. I made them hard. I stopped reading for my courses, stopped doing homework assignments until hours before class. My work schedule (I’ll get into my job later) began to take over my life and my free time. Everything I knew about studying efficiently was traded to the art fo cramming. Let’s not even talk about how I was able to complete a 40 page research paper by the deadline. Apparently you only need 20% of the crap they force feed you in college once you get into the real world.

Anyway, the point is…I interviewed someone who passed his Series 7 (is that what it’s called?). The conversation went something along the lines of the following.

Him: “So, what are they teaching you there?”

Followed by.

Him: “Yeah, you don’t need that shit.”

Followed by.

Him: “They didn’t teach you that? Listen, do me a favor. Go tell your business department that they need to get their shit in gear. You weren’t told any of this? At all?”

Of course, on the other side of the conversation I sat wide eyed, scared out of my mind. Had I been devoting hours upon hours of my life to studying aspects of business that really didn’t matter as soon as that damn diploma was handed over? Had I missed out on hours of socializing with my peers for absolutely nothing but a good GPA that matters peanuts after I get my first job? No! This couldn’t be. It couldn’t. But…

When I came to college I took random classes for the first year or so – whatever tickled my fancy. This eventually led me to declare a major in Economics. A majority of these random classes factored into the major, and I thought it would do me good to follow the course that had been set for me. I continued to take random classes. The second semester of my junior year, I looked at my transcript. As it turned out, these random classes factored into my economics major and business school requirements. Somehow, I had stumbled into the correct graduation timeline. This was a good thing.

My college requires me to earn X amount of credits by the end of my 4 years in attendance. With one semester to go, I was 13 credits shy. However, I would be completely finished with my major, pending that I passed all of my classes. I looked at myself in the mirror (fully clothed, I swear).

For four years I had toiled to drill knowledge into my head. For four years I sculpted myself to be some sort of scholar, as opposed to a party animal. I’m done tooting my own horn – the result of all these super grades and honor societies was a 6’3” nonathletic, out of shape pile of wasted dreams. Had I found the love of my life during my tenure at the college? No. Did I figure out how to make material objects explode with my thoughts? No. Failure. This was no good. I was going to die a lonely death, yep, definitely.

So I decided to change all of this in my last semester of college. I needed 13 credits. I signed up for econometrics, a 4 credit class surprisingly not required to graduate. Then I signed up for another 4 credit class, an elective as well. This left me with 5 more credits (13-8 is 5, right?) to give me the opportunity to sink my teeth into that damn diploma. I needed to find something to fill this up, fast. Something fun. Something that would change the way I look at the world.

Conditioning classes. They would get me in shape, they were mostly composed of the opposite sex (big plus), and they would help me clear my mind for the year after college.

I started with Pilates Body, then moved onto Yoga I, Aerobics, Aqua Aerobics, Fitness and Conditioning, Beginners Swimming, Energetics, and the dreaded Cardio Jazz dance, rumored to have the meanest, most demanding teacher of them all. Madness, you say? I tagged Athletic Injury Management on top of all this. In case I injure myself. 10 credits. I was up to 18.

Tonight…I logged into my student account and checked to see if my grades were posted. I could feel my heart beat speeding up. If I failed even one class, I would have to retake it in place of the conditioning classes. Sleep deprived, I clicked through the database. As the dust settled from final exams, I could picture every moment of my college career that built up to this. Everything flashed before my eyes. No background music. Silence. I stared at the screen.

Everything. I passed. I passed everything.

Training starts tomorrow.

(censored conditioning schedule)