Frontenac

     So I went to a Catholic wedding today, not to say that a Catholic wedding distinguishes it from any other wedding, aside from the fact that it's scientifically proven to be 3 times as long, and 3 times as boring. Just kidding. But really, it wasn't all Catholic weddings in general, it was just the priest in this one. He seemed to be so overcome with emotion for the bride and groom that he felt the need to pause every 3 seconds or so, only managing to pour out a meager 2 words or so between gasps of delight. It was difficult to sit/stand/kneel through, to say the least.
     The couple, however, was and is beautiful. They were some college friends of mine who decided to do the patriotic thing and get married, and now I realize just how much farther I am from even potentially landing a girlfriend. That's life for you. Those are the kind of things that you learn on the eve of the eve of your birthday.
     This past week has been a blur. I've applied for two jobs, which has taken most of my energy out of me. Yes, the applications only took about twenty minutes each (The hospital's had a few extra pages though, almost made me give up applying! This must be their weed-out strategy), and yes, I turned them in on Thursday, but it did indeed take time to work up the courage to fill out those applications, and go through the several calculations in my head about whether or not I should even venture into these establishments. That is the stuff that I was doing the other three days of the week. Tiring, I know.
     Friday was a fun day of driving. First through Wichita, then to Sedan, Kansas, where the mightiest blues     festival on the face of the earth is set to take place this weekend. Never heard of Sedan, Kansas? That's because it's so big, they didn't have room for it on the map, so they just left it off. Seriously, you should go. They even had a high school choir open up for the downtown block party. I told you this stuff was legendary.
     Now it's time to catch up with my college buddies through several trips to the hot tub, intertwined with several trips to the regular pool in an attempt to recreate hypothermia (just kidding). Have fun this weekend, my birthday is on Monday!

Flight

I look down upon it all, taking in this spectacle of night,


Tiny dollops of slumbering joy help to ease my fright.


The giant roar from the engine, cradles me like a glove.


I am an anomaly in flight, helpless from above. 


The great city below does little to ease my qualms.


For paradise I just left, stuffed with friendly palms. 


Now I roam over this endless, briny sea,


If land may ever come, 


gentle...may it be.

Oh Boy

Oh boy was it a gas out in paradise. So much unattainable tail, a regular ol' hootenanny thanks to some Iowans at a Luau, and some kayaking up a river with a tour guide named Candida. Hot sausage on a Sunday morning! Isn't that a sight? Didn't think so, I didn't show you anything.
     I realized that flourless cake is something indeed compared to the island's mystery on LOST. It is indeed, decadent and delicious, and should be included in all meals, including breakfast. I also learned something else on this trip. It seems that the "finer" fine dining gets, and the more expensive it is, it seems like you get less and the chefs don't do as much work. The steak is rare, the fish is uncooked. The portions are akin to something that you might feed to your teething toddler for a snack, not even close to attaining meal-hood.

Fine Dining

     

     How the hell am I supposed to survive on that? The answer is, you're not. You're supposed to support this "fine and exotic" dish with it's cohorts in compilation, the Appetizer and the Dessert, both masters of their trade. This is why even after all of this grand eating experience, I still want to stop down the street and pork down a basket of waffle fries and a double BBQ hickory bacon dee-lux burger.

     I have to look for a job tomorrow. I don't want to look for a job, I wish a job would look for me. But, if I want to keep fueling my ruthless cabbage patch doll addiction, I'll have to find some form of income. Take care now. 

Thimbleberries

     I took it upon myself to hike while we were in Hawaii, because it's an activity that all teenagers full of life like myself can aspire to and enjoy. What's cooler than saying you hiked the "Powerline" trail? Saying you hiked 2 1/2 miles of the "Powerline" trail and turned back because you didn't know how far it went, only to find out it went a syndrome-inducing 10 miles to the other side of the island. Thank God I didn't look for the pot of gold at the end of that rainbow.

     The ultra-whiteness of my body that rivaled Edward Cullen is no more. I took care of that in one fell swoop of laying out in full UV-A and UV-B glory yesterday for a solid 20 minutes, minus sunscreen mind you. Take that albinism. So my dad has a major...hankering, for this flower called a plumeria (See -->)

He's got such a fancy for these things, I'm beginning to wonder why on earth he married my mom. For God's snakes, he called them "my plumeria". Now, his flavor of the flower usually comes in a white version with a yellow inside, but that's not saying he's elitist or anything. So this obsession got a little ridiculous, so I made a...sexual reference, if you will (and you will), to whenever he smelled those things. Needless to say, he wasn't having any of it, while indeed, he was having all of the whiffs of plumeria he could possibly muster out of two nostrils. I took it upon myself to invent a "power-smelling" method so as to increase the potential smell capacity of each whiff. Therefore, I took two "plumerii" (is that even possible to make it plural like that?) and entranced them each near my Plumeria-deprived nostrils, and inhaled. Needless to say, it was more electrifying than an episode of dog whisperer.

     We toured a coffee plantation yesterday. Yes, plantation. We took the 1/8 mile, approximately 20 minute (important plot elements here!) walking tour, and learned all about how the soul-sucking liquid is made! Did you know that the coffee bean is actually a seed of a small cherry-like fruit? They have to open it and scrape out all of the mush and sould of the fruit to get to that little heartless seed that "adults" seem to have a throbbing "love" for. Also, they said that back in the day, some time ago, there was a melting pot of people that came to the island to work the sugar cane fields (which are now the coffee fields). Right, like those people came to the island all jolly and ready to work the fields, which the tour described as "laborious and tiring work". That's an interesting way to describe an enslaved group of people. Sounds like a big party (not really). In this way, the beans are also a "melting pot" because they're all mixed up together, so you get all kinds of heritage from those beans! Man, what cultural richness! And all from coffee! They also had free little samples afterward, all in those legit containers that you pump down on, just like you metaphorically pump your soul out of your body after every sip. That stuff, needless to say, was delicious, given enough sugar and creamer of course.

     That's about all of the wisdom and wisecrackery I have for now. It's time to hit up the breakfast buffet! Someone's gotta fight for obesity, he always seems to be the underdog!

This post was supposed to be on Sunday: Hawaii

     My father is a joy to travel with. He's almost as anxious as my mom, who requires us to "check in" at every stop. I almost feel like I should have brought along those extra strength maxi pads that I saw during a commercial break of LOST. Yes, Hulu, this ad is completely relevant to me. I swear, old people and their traveling... This is why we need to invent teleportation! But we need to also make sure we don't allow teleportation of your little chihuahua, Sparky. I heard their tails don't always make it through the flux intron voltrometer.
     Finals week took more out of me than an elephant giving birth. Now, I've never given birth to a baby elephant before, but I've rocked the heck out of a #2. I got my first B! In biology, no less; my intended major. Ironic? Or just destiny? Look people, I'm pretty sure I won't need to know what a trp operon does in order to diagnose someone's stools. "Hmm Jim, looks like you've got a little too much tryptophan in your stools, you might not want to code as many amino acids." Right. Completely essential.
     I'm mixed in my feeling pertaining to the first year of college more than an afternoon at a Dr. Dre recording session. The experiences were great, but looking back, I feel like I could have done so much more. I look at my peers and see all that they've done in merely two semesters and it's astounding. I had the great pleasure of catching up with one friend from a class from the previous semester at the end of this semester and learned of all the amazing stuff she did while I merely sat around. Compared to me, she practically built a homeless shelter in New Guinea. Not like they need it though, those pretentious Europeans (are they European?). I guess I'll just have to go out next semester and slap solar panels on everything in the name of "Going Green". I should call it going black though, since that's what color the panels are, and green implies money, which wouldn't fly for a philanthropic event of the magnitude I have planned.
     So what's the deal with this high fructose corn syrup crap these days? I'm pretty sure it's in everything, and it's the cause of my discomfort on this bajillion hour plane ride to paradise a.k.a. Hawaii. I was tricked into switching into an exit seat, which, big surprise, is smaller and more keen to my Asian math teacher than to my waistband-stretching mid line. Economy plus sucks. We're all turning into corn, end of story.
     I told the flight attendant I'd "do my best" when he asked if I was able to handle the responsibilities of the exit row. He told me I needed to say yes, and "my best" wasn't enough. Damn these are some strict standards.
     I heard an interesting theory on global warming the other day. It said the Earth has been and will be just fine, it's the human race we'll have to worry about. Quite perplexing. I wrote this on the plane and right now I 'm pretty sure my butt is flatter than western Kansas.

Scowl and Groan

     I enjoy making up phrases. Talking in the old ways is just so sophisticated, it reminds me of my Southern roots (none). We sure did put out a printin' press o' sayins on Stop Day, the Friday before finals when all studying stops, and barbecuing begins. We cooked up somethin' fierce, all to the tune of a little Old Crow Medicine Show, a good and hootin' ol' folk band.
     I started studying for finals today, it wasn't too promising, but I did a number on the books indeed. It's so disheartening, studying. It's such beautiful weather all around us, yet majors like mine are confined to the confines of dark and dusty study escapes. It's alright though, I paid my respects enough to nature. Proctor and I also paid our respects on Friday to our little 'uns that we've been raising under our tender wing at the elementary school. It's so sad to see those kids go (mass exodus of tears). Helping volunteer only strengthened my resolve that teachers should be paid more, and that it is indeed an effective form of contraception. That's all I've got for now, it's time to turn to the sheets.

Reese's and Chemistry, That's it!

     I don't know if you know this about me, but there's two things I love:
  and .
Now, if we get these two bad boys in the same room together, expect a little "sharing of electrons" to take place, if you will. I also care much more dearly for that nice ol' chemistry book on the right than I ever could for Reese's. If you know me at all, you will know that that statement is 100% false. Reese's are the shit. Not actual excrement, because that would just be weird. Crap, I'm hungry now.
     I'm pulling what I like to call a "late-nighter" for Chemistry, which is turning out quite well so far. I've managed to accomplish nothing in the past hour besides this lovely picture:

"An Upside Down Volcano"

     Oh God, I'm losing my mind. Finals are next week, but before finals must come the greatness of Stop Day. Stop Day is the Friday before the week of finals when there are no classes. Basically, it's an excuse for everyone to get drunk. I'll have you know that I won't be participating in this form of debauchery (which form?). Yep. I'll be studying quite studiously for the finals that I have yet to contemplate. 

     We had a Professor visit us for dinner tonight from the History Department. He was absolutely amazing is the only way I can really describe the experience. He was an extremely well-rounded guy, had seen it all, and was still proclaiming that he hadn't seen the best day of his life. I got this amazing 1 1/2 hour talk from this great man, and come to find out that he's transferring to Texas in 2 weeks. What kind of heartbreak is that? Geez, I feel like I was in a relationship. Guess I'll have to go through the breakup rituals:  ++.

     That is absolutely nothing like how I feel my breakup would go. It'd probably be something like this, if I ever do in fact have the pleasure of a breakup: 

++++.

Enough said. Or unsaid? Isn't it amazing all of the stuff you can get off of Amazon? I'm going to go back to procrastinating, it's quite a task. Cheers. 

Jive

So our Team Black class has whipped us all into a terror of a fury. For two weeks now, our professor has told us that he'd "Double Check" on the time of the final, and for two weeks we have been served a cold cut sandwich of disappointment with no mustard or mayo or nothin'. And today, the last day of class, justice was finally demanded, and it was received. We learned that our final was Tuesday. But wait! There's more! Halfway through a clip of a movie we were viewing we noticed the TA changing the time to Monday, a very bold move. He even had the balls to not point it out to us. Well, I shouldn't say us, I was alerted quite readily when he was scribbling hieroglyphics up on the board, words and numbers so rare and extinct that I could barely believe my eyes (an actual final time). He didn't point it out to the incompetent, which would be the other 90% of the class that didn't have the luxury of sitting in the front row while pussing out while sitting next to a beautiful Hollandish girl who then later on in class proceeded to badmouth America by calling it lazy and some aspects of it "half-assed", and basically derailing Cabela's Outlet as pointless. Now I don't know about y'all, but that there's a pretty ripe sentence for gettin' yerself sent ter Azkerban or wherever they send them crazy fools these days, Guantenero or something. I'd say she  pretty much up and declared herself a terrorist by committin' those words to the air.
     Other things: I went to the gym today, and therefore those 30 minutes of semi-non-intense exercise justified the glorious bowl of dairy and chocolate-laden sex that I consumed not too long ago. I am indeed referring to ice cream. By the way, Ben and Jerry's is some amazing freaking ice cream. I think I've mentioned it before, but I just wanted to mention it again. I was born and raised on it. Hell, my parents even honeymooned 'round those parts. I even took a detour out of my college visit on the east coast to see the factory. You could call it a Mecca of sorts. And with all Meccas, there's got to be a holy book. This book folks, is this: . This stuff will make you pick up more chicks than a forklift, and that's a hell of a lot of women. I've made countless recipes from this bible, and they all equal another step closer to heaven (or hell, however you see it).
     Last night I made no-bakes, and actually competed against a duo of man's counterpart: woman. We went our separate ways, me adding Ferrero Nutella 26.5oz. Jar to my repertoire of star-studded ingredients. Lest we say that mine were obviously much more delicious, and therefore a contest had to be held to confirm the women's baking inferiority. I titled the voting sheet: No-bake vs. Bro-Bake. Clever, I know. Ego-boosting? Check. Still waiting to see the results of that battle, but it's pretty safe to say who's superior.
     Finals are coming up next week, which basically means the final trip of your soul into nothingness as you waste away countless hours studying before given three months to recover and try and pick up what pieces are left of you, literal and figurative. This has been a great trip so far though, I've got to hand it to college. There's been no better time in my life so far. It's about time to lay down a sack of Z's (go to bed) before my comedic presence grows ice (gets cold). Give me five on the black hand side y'all! Peace.

Teavana

So it's been a while. I hope you didn't feel deprived of your daily dose of depressing discourse. Was that enough alliteration for you? This weekend has been...epic, to say the least. I'll start you off with Friday:
     Friday is hazy, what did I waste my time doing? Oh I know, I traveled to the Overland Park/Olathe (all the same to me, they're a suburb as the big KC) mall to get some more tea. Why, you might ask, would you, an idiotic teenage college kid, travel 45 minutes out of your way to get some stupid tea? I'll tell you why, because it's damn good stuff. It's from a place called Teavana in the mall. I know I know, you scoff at the fact of anything good coming out of a mall besides clothes (and roasted almonds), but indeed there are good consumer items somewhere in this world of malls. I truly am a lover of this tea, which is a combination of apple lemon pomegranate and imperial acai blueberry teas. I really enjoy the fact that it's called imperial, because then it gives me the feeling like my trip was not one to a suburban mall, but a wild safari upon elephant-back into the Orient to gather some other-worldly spices. You may call it a trip to the mall, but I call it adventure. Hey, I even ran into this phenomenon called rush hour on the way back, so that counts for something. In safari terms, that would've been the part where the elephant stepped on a thorn and pussed out so I had to read it a Dr. Seuss book to get it back into the mental mode to carry me onward toward the Orient of tea. I digress.
     There was also a suspected shooter on campus! :O (sideways gasp face) There was noise of a disturbance in McCollum Hall, and words consisting of "Where's my gun" were overheard. Now if I'm not mistaken, that just sounds like some rough foreplay. It's no need to send the campus into a frenzied spiral of panic. It actually did the opposite for me, I wasn't fooled. Nope, I drove up as close as possible to try and get a look at the potential porn star, presumably in dorm room 343, because that number is of course an innuendo (no it isn't) {yes it is}. Anyway, that was a fun and exciting time for the University. One of my good friends at the esteemed Kansas State University even texted me within 10 minutes of myself receiving the alert, asking about the news. This of course meant that he had no life of his own if he was inquiring about my University, but I responded anyway with this gem: (There's blood everywhere.) Now that's a pretty open-ended answer, and one fitting for the situation. He didn't respond.
     On Saturday I helped out an old friend with State Journalism for high school. I would like to point out that I am in no way connected to anything journalism, I just like to help out my friends (and score brownie points with them). Only did I realize after my friend had introduced me to one of her good friends, and we had been chatting for quite some time that I had a protrusion from the side of my head the size of the Eiffel Tower. Photo-realistic Description follows:

"God Help Humanity"

Embarrassing, I know. Way to go Coop, you sure do look like a straight shooter, spot off the cover of GQ magazine! Nothing a little water and paper towels can't fix. I think the indicator for a shower reaches critical mass when you can run your fingers through your hair, and it stays in that position. Holy Crap. 

     That was fun, sitting and watching high schoolers write pathetic stories about "Ad Astra High." What kind of bullshit name for a school is that? That's like the quintessential patriotic name. I personally think they should have named it Mohammed High, just for some diversity. 

     The real good time came afterward when I had the pleasure of catching up with some high school friends, who reassured me that indeed, college life is better, and high school drama and events are 95% worthless. The other 5% included the possible "real" conversations that might have taken place during those 4 years, accompanied by those one or two amazing teachers that actually gave a shit about you and you formed deep, long-lasting relationships with. I do, in fact, have basically two mothers thanks to our education system and surprisingly high quality teachers at SV high. 

     The rest of the day was spent catching up on much needed sleep, which I've heard is quite a hot commodity come this time of year, and spending some quality time with my good friend Erika from Washburn, what a dear. There's nothing like spending time with a platonic friend by purchasing Chipotle with a buy one get one free card and then skimping on Ben and Jerry's by going to Walmart instead of the scoop shop just down the street. I am almost certain, however, that Ben and Jerry's runs in my veins, because I was told that my mother consumed a metric ton of the stuff during pregnancy. Great stories. I'll quit bothering you now.