Debating Deadlines

The mock election meeting today went as usual. Mike tried to control the group, we got severely off topic several times, and someone had to settle us back down. I think Danny Perlstein is my favorite person to waste time with. He's educated, and he's got a good grasp on political humor.

Anyway, Mike asked for the text of the pamphle (the one I spent all last night making), and I told them all I could send it out tonight. They all flipped out over the inclusion of Cynthia McKinney. I think she's a big name, and an important illustration that we do draw a diverse group of speakers to campus, but I was maligned for my choice and told that Cynthia had to go becuase she was "too liberal." Alas Ms. McKinney, we hardly knew ye.

I mean, it's not my fault that there are very few conservative speakers on campus, and those who do choose to come do so in almost complete secracy. There were plenty of announcements for Cynthia McKinney, but who hearlded the arrival of chief Bush Economic advisor Stephen Friendmann? No one.

Anyway, one kid got all uppity and wanted to see a new pamphlet tonight. On the other hand, I had promised the guys a roast, and I was in severe need of a nap. 2 p.m. quickly turned into 8 p.m., and following a brief family phone odyssey I was ready to start the roast -- at 9 p.m. Around the time I was knee deep in peeled potatoes, the phone rang. Grumbling, I grabbed at it and tried to jab the on button with my starch-covered fingers. The voice at the other end was Mike Zuckerman.

"Hey, can you send out that pamphlet now?"

Now I'm not sure if these people understand, but to do a high-quality print job, and make it look good in the end, you need some pretty high-end software. The Sun has it, I don't. For me to "send the pamphlet out now," I need to walk down to the paper, open the office, start up the sports computer (it's the only one that can read Quark 6.0 files), and then I can get to work on editing the file. That's a good 20 minutes of prep time, not counting the actual time it'll take to change the file. Then I know they're going to send me some more "suggestions" (i.e. questionable changes, or other things they don't like), and I'm going to have to repeat said process. All in all, I'm probably looking at a couple more hourse of work on this stupid thing this week.

But anyway, Roast, annoying phone call during which I tried to explain to Mike what I just wrote in the last paragraph, and then Dan McAlvin called. For those of you who haven't checked out his site recently, I suggest you do so. It's listed on the left as "Here.but.Not," and has just been pimped out with multimedia clips of Dan, doing Dan-like things. My contribution was a small video of us getting kicked out of Tops supermarket. It was a contribution that took up another good 30 minutes, but one I didn't mind. I had been neglecting to do this for Dan for over a week now, which was severely uncool of me, espcially since Dan did me a favor by carting my ass out to Tops in the first place. We're in for good times next year, for sure, if I can just survive this week.

So then I went for a walk with Christine. Uneventful, yet still very nice, very peaceful. Enough said.

So now it's 4 a.m., and I have just gotten home to check my e-mail and mail out the pamphlet text. See two angry e-mails from said committee members, who were upset that I had not sent out the pamphlet information. I warned them that it would be "sometime tonight" (and as Todd so aptly defines it, if I haven't gone to bed yet, it's still tonight). I offered them hard copies to peruse over and take home while at our meeting, telling them that they should make their changes there and e-mail me corrections. They declined and opted to wait for my e-mail. And wait they have.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to cause these people grief, but if they reject my intial offer for a chance to have instant feedback, I'm not going to jump through hoops becuase it suddenly becomes convenient for them to take an interest, especially not when I'm in the middle of preparing a major culinary undertaking such as a roast. Mike told me we needed to have the pamphlet ready for some VP guy on Thursday, I sent the text, I'll make the corrections I get after my Comm Law final on Wednesday -- end of story, particularly becuase this dog doesn't learn tricks.

The biggest frustration is that I just did something any of these people could have done. Adobe Acrobat Reader has a text-capture tool. I just selected the text in the PDF I sent out and put it into a word file. These people are honestly idiots, especially if they couldn't figure it out after I gave them instructions. I hate cleaning up after other people's idiocy, which is truly what has prompted this rambling 4:50 a.m. posting.

Now if you'll excuse me, the Sand Man is waiting. I'm late for my appointments in dream land with Anson Rowe, Alexander Hamilton and Jessica Alba.

Doors and Windows

I hate it when people use cliches. I usually think less of them for not coming up with something clever of their own to say.

That said, when God closes a door, he opens a window...

(I guess today I'm a bit self-hating.)

The family has hit varied financial challenges in the past few months. Today I recieved word that I won a share of the really big Comm department Scholarship. Closed doors, open windows ... I almost feel like I'm in a diverse and caring environment that really wants to make me a better individual. Then I remember I'm at Cornell, and the administration hates students. At least someone(s) in the Comm Dept. likes me.

Hooray for Computer-mediated-communication theories.

Trouble Sleeping

I always seem to have issues going to bed on the weekends. I feel like if I get to sleep, I'm going to miss something big. It's a rediculous feeling, the anxiety. Right now I'm sitting in my room, alone in the apartment, with work piling up around me, and my biggest fear is missing this mysterious and unkown "something."

I think part of it stems from me feeling that I need to make up for lost time. I managed to come back and finish up the academic semester, but with the illness I've found myself becoming more withdrawn. Some of it is a physical thing -- I just can't make it to the fraternity house and back, or to upper collegetown for that friend's party. I've become the definition of lame, both physically and socially.

But then there are the other issues. I just don't feel social. It's hard when you keep catching colds. It's hard to be jovial and joke around when you're constantly reaching for tissues, or getting dizzy. Things are much better now, even than just a week ago, which I think is what adds to the anxiety. I also feel that the "something" isn't necessarily an event as it is a person, like that new great friend or romantic interest.

I've been doing a lot of reading about the sociological and psychological impacts of humor. Humor is apparently more affective with highly masculine personalities (independent, and dominating people -- not necessarily just males). The Comm theories aren't all that helpful, but do break down humor into clownish humor and wit. Apparently those who demonstrate clownish humor quickly build their popularity, yet don't hold any sway over their peers. Those who demonstrate wit don't help their popularity (haven't figured out if they hurt it yet either), but there are some prestige effects. People view witty friends or aquaintances as more influential, more intelligent. The Comm studies also delve into the learning effects associated with laughter. Very interesting stuff, and suprisingly it's relatively unexplored (although it's not surprising that no one ever took humor seriously). I think I may have found a focus area for my thesis. Perhaps combining a CMC element would help narrow the field ...

Like a Bee

I think I'll be able to breathe next Thursday. Next Wednesday is my only final, but I've also got quite a few papers to finish before then, one of which is due today at 5 p.m., and I've only got one part answered so far (of five). It's 8 a.m., however, so I'm not incredibly worried. I am actually not worried or motivated at all, something that is a bit disturbing.

I remember wondering how I used to pull all-nighters, and how they seemed easier to manage sophomore year. Now most of you are probably painting this picture of me, procrastinating so that I had to pull an all-nighter. In actuality, my work at the Daily Sun necesitated them. I'd be there from 5 p.m. until 3 a.m. most nights I desked, which means that by the time I took the flats over to the printing press and walked up the hill it was 4 a.m. Then I would usually finish up an assignment or two, putting the time at 6 a.m. Rather than try for an hour or two of sleep, I just stayed up. I didn't trust my alarm on those sleepless mornings, it usually didn't wake me up when I had gotten eight hours or so.

So last night, I had the option of working through until dawn, or going to bed and getting up early. I chose the latter. I just couldn't imagine staying up any later. I had been falling asleep since I woke up, and I couldn't imagine trying to pound out five pages past midnight.

I think it's the mono. It's been holding me back lately, even though I'm in week eight. I still feel lethargic and tired. I still need more sleep. I still have a sore throat. I still pick up every cold that goes around campus. I'm waiting for a change of scenery with baited breath, and am close to counting down the days until I head home. I know I'm coming back here for reunion, but it'll still be nice to be home for a week or two.

Most people here understand my recent mode of thinking. They've come to accept that fact that no matter what they want out of me -- work, writing, friendship -- I've (tried to) put my studies and health on the top of my list as I finish the semester. They've come to accept tha fact that I'm not going to always comply with their requests on my time. They understand why I say no when I've picked up that latest cold ... for the second time. Recently, however, I ran into a few people who couldn't understand why it took me so long to finish a project. It's study week, I didn't have any exams in their mind, so I should have had plenty of time to finish it up. Said project, however, is for an extra cirricular activity which right now is at the bottom of the list. I'd rather spend another night desking at The Daily Sun and be up until 6 a.m. doing work than finish this thing up. It'll get done -- I usually finish what I start, but I'm not going to try to squeeze it in amongst papers and group projects for class. Nor am I going to sacrifice sleep. I don't like to tell people I have mono, but the ones that matter know. Now these people do, too.

Commencement Speakers

The List of Possible Commencement Speakers:

Jon Stewart
Will Ferrell
Dave Chippelle
Elian Gonzalez
Arnold Schwarzenegar
Mark Cuban
Mike Tyson
Cicely Tyson
Peep O'Bryson
Bill Walton
Mackey Sasser
JFK
RFK
LAX
(Okay, enough with the airports, back to the real list)
Charles Barkley
Bob Barker
Jared Diamond
Stephen Hawking
Alf
Joumana Kidd
Bob Ryan
Joumana Kidd and Bob Ryan, together
Saddam (we have him anyway, we could dress him up and make him do sketch comedy with Andy Dick)

If you think any of these are good choices, please e-mail classof2005@cornell.edu and let them know.

A Response

There is an interesting posting at www.nagowski.com. I'll save you all some time and summarize. Some whiny theatre major writes the proprietor an e-mail about how terrible it is that no one ever comes to see the Risley theatre shows, or sees the student exhibits in Sibley, or goes to the Jazz concerts, or ...

I take it you understand the concept. Somehow, though, I just can't sympathize with this person. I think the reason no one goes to these shows is becuase people don't want to gamble their time on what may be a complete lack of vision and talent. The CTA shows almost always sell out, I know becuase I've tried to get tickets on several occasions only to find the shows full. People come to the Hangover and Waiter shows becuase they know what they're getting. Why can't Risely Hall theatre attrack the same audience? We could blame the lack of an upper-classman presence on North Campus, leaving all freshmen secure and isolated in their world of general indifference, but the bigger issue is time vs. talent.

This claim that no one ever goes to see art exhibits, or jazz concerts is bogus. I remember a packed house when Wynton Marsalis came. Why? As mentioned before, it's the talent vs. time issue. People will rearrange their busy Cornell schedules when they know they'll get a good show. Perhaps instead of whining in e-mails to his friends, this student should go back and practice some more.

---

It's raining and yet still sunny in Ithaca. Very strange. Also, the NWS has issued a second severe thunderstorm warning in as many weeks. I usually enjoy the rain, but with this head cold I wish it would subside. I just can't shake it, and I'm sick of popping all these pills to cut through the congestion.

---

I'm going back to the gym this week, but only to run. I want to be able to do five miles before I get to DC this summer, so that I can stand the heat. I'll have to slow down a little once I'm down there, but it should only take a week to get used to the conditions and humidity.

Geography lesson

Jevon: (pointing at Kevin Garnett) That guy's from Minnesota
Adam: You know what else is from Minnesota? The Dallas Stars.

The Passion

When I first met Ben Lowe, I hated him. He was an attractive guy, very smooth and personable, and he had an amazing solo voice. He made the Glee Club last Fall, had quit his acapella group, and was quite vocal on wanting to be in the Hangovers. It was jealousy that made me hate Ben, and as the old saying goes, I kept my enemies closer.

Ben and I despartely wanted the same thing then, to be a member of the Hangovers. We saw it as status, as a chance to travel and see things we would otherwise have been left in the dark about. I hated and feared Ben, however, because I thought he was a sophomore. After two semesters of trying out for the group, making call backs, and not getting in, I thought the third time would be a charm. The group had lost enough members at my voice part where I figured they had to take me -- there weren't many other viable options. Then Ben appeared out of thin air, threatening to block me from the one thing I had wanted more than anything -- the one thing that made me pick Cornell over Penn, and Syracuse. He threatened to take the spot that could have been mine in the Hangs.

We sat next to each other during his new man dinner, and talking to Ben I realized I didn't have to hate him anymore. He was a junior (the group has this thing about taking too many guys of a certain year), he was just as nervous and paranoid about his audition as I was, and -- as previously mentioned -- he was a smooth and personable guy. We laughed, swapped stories, and took turns trying to impress the other that night. In the end a friendship was born.

Being new guys, Ben and I were close during that first semester in the group. We played kick rock, went to parties on the weekend, and caused general panic in the Asian markets. I heard all about his dreams, his fears, and mostly what songs he really wished he had a chance to sing the solo on. He was a confidant and partner in crime. Ben idolized the Hangs of yesterday, and loved the songs and music that they had arranged.

Over the past four semesters, it has been an amazing experience to hear Ben accomplish those goals and realize those dreams. Last night during Happy Hour -- his last true Hangs performance at Cornell -- he soloed on Evaporated (Ben Folds Five), and it was amazing. There's a line in the song about pouring your heart out, basically giving everything you have. That was Ben. I've never heard him give anything less than his best on a solo, and hopefully I never will.

As I lay Dying

This "cold" thing really sucks. I mean, first it was strep, then the mono, now this. Bill and Mary Ann keep nagging me to come home, but I'd like to finish out my semester. Well, or so I thought.

I was on track for an A+ in my HCI design course, but my presentation yesterday did not go as planned. First, Tops wouldn't let us take any photos or video of their automated checkout scanners, which meant visually we were lack luster. Next, the projector wouldn't recognize my partner's computer, so we couldn't run our demo interface. Finally, the presentation sped up a bit.

It's partially my fault, becuase I handed it over to my partner a slide early, but then he glossed over our user testing, summing it up in a few sentences. Our professor (who most likely won't decide our grade, since she's been MIA and the TA has been running the course for the past two months) did ask us a redeeming question about our original interface, which allowed us to elaborate some on the design and testing process, but in the end I just got a weird vibe. Everyone in the class was just staring confusedly, which makes sense since we didn't get to demo our final interface. You really need to see it to understand the whole project and be able to ask questions.

We're supposed to show it off on Thursday, but I'm still hesitant. I know I lost my chance at an A+. Hopefully I can still get an A.

There has been some academic redemption for the week, however. I will be able to take my sociology exam on Friday instead of today, allowing me some more time to prepare as well as try to shake this cold. If I can ace the test, I'll get an A in the class. I also just e-mailed in my final Comm Law paper. I think I hit all the main points, so I can't imagine getting anything worse than an A-. But maybe that's just the cold medication talking ...

"Hey Norm ..."

Will Ferrell used to do these hilarious Harry Carrey impersonations on SNL, and at somepoint during the skit he'd ask Norm McDonald some really crazy question about food. Ribs, Yankee Stadium Hotdogs, Cheese ... they touched all the basics except waffles.

I know, I know. It looks like I'm obsessed with waffles. In actuality, I'm just happy beucase CU Tonight has agreed to fund my idea. This August, orientation will be a little bit safer, and that makes me feel good.

I'm fighting off a head cold. I finally replenished my supply of 12-hour Sudafed today, and had been using the four-hour tabs instead lately. They just didn't do the trick. I took a pair last night, got five hours of sleep, and woke up completely congested. They're supposed to last for six hours!

I'm going to take a nap now before bunkering in with my soc notes and comm law supplies. I've got one paper, one exam, and one video to edit before I can take a breather (Wednesday). Then on Thursday I need to get back to work and finish off my Risk Comm exam.

I've had MSNBC on for the past hour, blaring away while I check the e-mail and fantasy league. Politics are so rediculous. Donald Rumsfeld is on now, trying to cover his ass over the abuse of Iraqi captives. Before that George Bush was cracking jokes about foreign leaders to a bunch of rednecks in Ohio. It's a shame when entertainment takes presidence over subsantive policy discussions. Lies and jokes just don't seem help the American people like medicare and social security. I wonder if FDR operated like this.

Crunch Time

I'm going to really enjoy this upcoming study and finals period because I only have one scheduled exam. Unfortunately, I this means that I have a hellish week a head of me. I've got a comm law paper, my sociology final, my HCI final presentation, a video to edit for Risk Comm and the first part of that final exam to do. I can't believe the professor wants us to write eight pages for one question.

I'm watching the Lakers play the Spurs right now. Every writer has seemed to turn on Gary Payton lately -- they say he's lost the edge to compete. He's too slow, can't hit his shots, he's letting his arrogance get in the way.

I don't know. I'll still take the glove over any point gaurd in the league. He's a smart player with solid experience. He just had a wide open three, but instead passed inside to Karl Malone. Most people wouldn't understand why, but it worked out in the end. Malone ended up getting the three point play and a bonus; he drew a foul from Tim Duncan. If the game goes to overtime, and the Lakers can get a win, it'll be thanks to Gary Payton.

But it doesn't seem like the Lakers will get that far. None of them can hit their free throws today.

The meetings need to stop

I've decided meetings are worthless. People really need to schedule work sessions, where the just sit down and get the job done. Tonight we're having a meeting (note my gleeful key strokes) about a house activity. I know what's going to happen. It's going to go like this:

President: I know there's been a lot of discussion about this...
NIB: We need to change the structure of the event. It sucks.
Older Brother: But We've always done it this way.
Social Chair: Guys, we have an entirely different problem.

And then he's going to whine about something off topic for a while, then the house treasurer will make an off topic comment, Todd will say something almost intelligent but be drowned out by a chorus of people who have written him off as useless, another NIB will say something dumb, and in the end, the original NIB who brought up a very good point will have nothing. There will be no change. It will be drowned out in a chorus of naysaying, and swept away with the cleansing power of fear. In the end it comes down to the fact that people are afraid to try something new becuase they are afraid to fail.

Maybe this will be the meeting that proves me wrong. I sure hope so.

After that though, we're having a waffle comm work session. Big strategy and thinking here. I'm also going to make these guys help me fill out the budget.

And then part of me says screw it. I'm going to be a senior. I've got an honors thesis to worry about. Do I really need to jump through student government hoops? There's a reason no one likes these kids, and thinks the SA is worthless. Do I really want to make them look good? Heck, today a friend (and house president here) mentioned I should bring it up with IFC -- that they'd help to sponsor my event.

We wouldn't have T-shirts. But it was never about the T-shirts. It's about making things safe, yet fun. What's stoping me from taking $100 of my orientation week check, making a shitload of waffles, and handing them out myself -- from having fun and making things safe?

And I realize the answer is nothing. What would they do? Have the IPD dress up in full riot gear to remove me from Ho plaza? I'm peacefully assembling in a public place. And if I'm on the sidewalk, the Supreme Court has my back. Since all sidewalks are considered public domain, I cannot be removed unless I am causing a disturbance. I won't be forcing my waffles on people -- just offering them. They can take, or leave, as they please.

And I can't believe that the CU Tonight kids would think this event encourages drinking. The drinking is going to happen regardless of whethere or not I hand out waffles. Their logic is flawed. But then again, these are the kind of idiots that are going to be running Cornell in 20 years, making it much easier for me to forgo my alumni contributions.

But now it's time to walk to dinner.

Keeping up with the Jones

I had lunch with former Sun editor Scott Jones today. We had a nice, hour-long chat about life and such. Most of all, I enjoyed Scott's wit and wandering eyes. It was funny to watch him track an attractive blonde or brunette as she moved behind me. At times he looked like he wasn't paying attention at all, staring off in a daze at the redhead in the farthest corner of the room. I understood though. I've been on that other side of the table.

We had another Mock Election meeting tonight. I was about 5 minutes late for the dinner meeting, and had to squeeze in next to Mike. Best mistake ever. It ended up where I was able to monopolize the conversation at our 10-person table, and get everyone to agree on making an informational pamphlet to send out to political figures and media organizations. Cornell has apparently agreed to pick up the tab, so I'm excited for full-color and glossy.

On a more serious level, though, I think that the pamphlets will make our event appear much more professional. It should help us to snag a few unsuspecting elected officials, or two as well. At the same time, it'll be the first concrete thing our group has produced. This is why I hate group work when I'm not the chair. Too much talk about ideas, and not enough work on the actual concept. We're also working on a letter that's going to come from President Lehman. I'm re-working the draft now, and hopefully we'll be able to get some hard copies from him by the end of next week.

And the people working on this thing, albeit some of them appear to be as life like as the statue of Ezra Cornell himself, seem pretty cool. I'm excited to see what unfurls itself during the course of our planning. The only issue I forsee is if Danny and I disagree on an issue. We're both strong-willed individuals ... but I think I could take him ;)

(I can't believe I just used an emoticon. I'm going to go do something more masculine now, in hopes of forgetting about this.)

Social Butterfly

I just received my invite to DTD's Delt Prom High. I have no idea what to expect, but I'm excited to get invited, especially since it's rare for guys to invite other guys to their fraternity events. It'll also be the second (semi) formal event I've attended in as many weeks. I've got to find out if I can bring a guest.

I also got my first facebook.com snub over the weekend. I suggested a book to some girl, who wrote back thanking me for the suggestion. I then offered to lend it to her since it's harcover and expensive, and in return she added me as a friend. Then she dropped me.

I just laughed, and added her as a friend so this time the request comes from my end. It's funny to have read so much on social capital, and how online reputations can be built and ruined, and then have someone snub me. It makes me wonder if I'm developing a bad rep, or if there was some other reason she dropped me. I don't know, but I'd love to find out. It's too bad people are so guarded and cautious about their social interactions with strangers. I've got so many questions, and hardly anyone to provide answers.

---

The grapevine says that Waffles & Ho's caught the eye of the CU Tonight commission, but that they don't like the name. Apparently it was also one of the sloppiest applications they received, which has prompted comments like, "He's a comm major? Aren't they supposed to have better presentation skills?"

Hey -- they didn't ask for an oral presentation. I'd have given a great speech in person. My hand writing on the other hand ... let's just say that's why I'm glad we're supposed to type our papers.

Anyway, I'm supposed to be contacted in the next week for more info and feedback to make some changes. At least they seemed cool with the idea of paying for T-shirts. Without the T-shirts the guys in the house don't seem that interested.

---

I Finally got out of the B range on one of my Comm Law papers. It's the only class that I'm not pulling an A or better in this semester, and with one paper and the final still looming, it looks like I can change that (for the better or worse depending on the work I put in). I'm just happy to finally get an A.

Todd Goes Home

We make jokes about a brother in our house being spacey. Like there's a map of the U.S. in the house, and everyone has a flag to signify their hometown; we added a picture of Mars and moved his flag there. When Time Magazine ran a piece about sending a manned mission to the Red Planet, we jokingly congratulated him for making the cover in his space suit.

And then today, he sent the following link. He's from Northern Virginia (It's more Northern than the rest of Virginia, he's been known to tell people.), which makes this even funnier.

"McLEAN, Va. (AP) -- Whether life exists on Mars is an endless source of speculation. But if there is life, and if those life forms can hit a curveball, then northern Virginia has dibs on their Little Leaguers.

That's because Little League Baseball this year granted its northern Virginia district jurisdiction over the planet.

District Administrator Michael Pobat wanted a theme this year as northern Virginia prepares to host the annual state tournament, whose champion competes for the right to represent the United States in the Little League World Series in Williamsport, Pa.

He thought a Martian theme might be a way to get kids excited about science and technology, so he petitioned Little League to annex the planet into the northern Virginia district, which serves about 5,000 boys and girls on teams in the Washington suburbs of Arlington, Alexandria and northern Fairfax County."

( an excerpt from http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2004/baseball/mlb/04/25/bc.bbo.littleleague.mar.ap/index.html?cnn=yes)

A Victory for Cornellians Everywhere

Yesterday Cornell Lacrosse beat Princeton, at Princeton, to end an Eight-year ownage streak. The win puts Cornell in control of the league, and with a win over Brown, gives the Red a return-trip to the NCAA tourney. I'm really excited about this becuase Cornell is also hosting a quarter-final round, which means we could play at home infront of a huge crowd.

I also went to Victory Club yesterday -- it was great. Katie and I got there, talked for a little bit, got some chips, and then at down at a blackjack table. We played for 2 hours on $15 worth of chips. All the while, all these people we knew kept coming to sit at our table. We played with Raul one of our Comm Grad students, Jesse -- a guy from Katie's floor last year, Marc Zawel -- former Managing Editor for The Daily Sun, and Matt Schuster from Glee Club. It was a blast each time one of them joined the table, and the brothers (Marc, Jesse) kept the champagne flowing (none for me, though, mono and all). It was great.

I've got another seal of approval for Waffle Night. This time from the Cornell police, so I'm excited. Now I just need to get some more people to sign off on the event, and we should be good to go (CU Tonight or not).

This week should be packed, but managable. We've got contact dinners tomorrow, a Head Clerk meeting on Wednesday, more KDR stuff on Thursday, and then the weekend. Workwise, I need to do some reading on the Comm comedy theories I've been gathering, and work out the details of a paper for Tuesday's Comm 345 class. I'll also need to start doing the Sociology readings, so I can be ready for the exam next week.

Paris Hilton is a Dude

So I went to campus today, ran some errands, turned in some work, and then I headed to the fraternity house for dinner. After Jon, Todd, Matt and I watched some movies (most notably Police Academy), and then I got a ride home.

When I got home things seemed off. There was a lot of noise coming from the building, so I knew someone was having a party. When I opened the door and walked in to find two busted girls in trucker hats blocking my doorway, I was pissed. I've been home a lot this week, and no one said anything about a party.

I wandered upstairs to see Jason, Phil and Amy Green were there. Graham was the only apartmentmate in the room. All of them greeted me as I entered and asked how I was doing. I told them I was doing well, and immediately they tried to explain what was going on.

It's not their fault, and I actually didn't mind that so many people were over once I knew that Graham, Jason and Phil were all there too. We have good times together, so I figured I'd just roll with the punches on this one. As it turned out, we were unsuspecting hosts for the Key Elements after-concert party. They bought all the alcohol, and asked to use our apartment (one of the group members lives downstairs). They also e-mailed me and apparently left a few messages on the machine. I didn't mind so much once I found out what was going on, I was actually kind of excited.

So I saw Dave, the Uber Wang, downstairs. He was busy doing group stuff, so I talked to him for a while and then went back to the other guys. That's where the real fun was, and it included the following:

• Phil getting some guy to chug all of our maple syrup for $12
• Jason getting this hot girl to eat dog food with him
• Me wandering around with my Terrorist playing cards, telling people not to worry becuase we got 'em all
• The girl with the mannish handshake
• The girl with the mannish handshake dissing waffle night

Then the coolest thing of all happened. All day I've been running into people, and recognizing them from the facebook.com. I don't say anything, beucase we don't actually know each other and that'd be wierd, but I still recognize them. Tonight I met Paris Hilton, and I can say that he does not look like her photo. Yup -- the person masquerading as Paris Hilton -- he's some asian dude.

But now it's time for bed.

I have a date for Victory Club

After working to find someone new to meet, and then take, I decided to go with a good friend. Now I can start worrying about something important. Like all the work I have due tomorrow.

Waffle Ingredients: $86.78, Chairs: $114 ... throwing up on your front lawn after a day of classes and paperwork: Priceless

So today I did the full slate. I went to class, handed in my assignments, and then worked on the application for CU Tonight funding for "Waffles and Ho's." What did I learn at Cornell today?

1) Everyone loves Waffles on Ho Plaza
2) There were a lot more CU Tonight Applications than I thought there'd be
3) Cornell Student Assembly President Nick Linder is an asshole, and I have no idea how he fits his head through doorways
4) The Dinning people are nicer than expected
5) I could do Waffles on Ho Plaza without CU Tonight for around $100 (a much simpler version, sadly)
6) Sean Greenhalgh does not get assists
7) Don't eat lunch at the Ivy Room

I write the last one becuase I just had lunch there, read through the McPaper sports section, and walked home. While turning the corner onto Eddy, my mouth started to water intensly and I thought, "Gee ... this hasn't happened since the last time I threw up."

Then I threw up on the lawn. Twice. And then once more when I was in my apartment for good measure. I don't think anyone saw me outside, but I still feel a bit embarrased about it. I understand that it's a normal physical reaction, and that a lot of sorority girls do it here at Cornell all the time, but I still consider it a sign of weakness. It says to the world that I'm not ready to be back here, in the daily grind. It says I need to slow down even further.

I mean I know why it happened. My abdominal muscles have been feeling strained all day (probably becuase I just laid around last week on the couch), and all the jostling of walking home was too much for my body. Reverse parastalasys (sp?) started, and that was it. It's like when I used to eat too close to races in high school. Afterwards I'd be huddled over the trash can.

But now it's nap time.

Waffles and Ho's

So the CU Tonight people told me I had until April 21st to get them the application for Waffle Night on Ho Plaza, and in typical last-minute fashion, I'm finishing up the details now.

I got our Fraternity advisor's signature on Monday (the hard part), just filled out the UUP form to use Ho Plaza (another hard part), and now I just need to write up the event. I'm done at 12:05 tomorrow, so I'm hoping to get it done by 1:30 p.m. and hand everything in by 2 p.m.

Anyone want to bet something gets derailed in the process?

Anyway -- for those of you still wondering why the brothers of Kappa Delta Rho would be serving waffles on Ho Plaza -- the answer is that we're going to provide an alcohol free alternative to the parties in collegetown during the first weekend of orientation. At the same time, we're not ignoring those students who chose to drink -- we're actually embracing them as the flawed individuals they are who may need help. In this manner, we're serving water and waffles so that these intoxictated freshmen remain safe, and can balance the OH molecules in their systems.

I mean, they're going to drink. They might as well drink safetly and pass by the watchful eyes of EMTs as they stumble up through Ho Plaza and back through to North campus, right?

A-Rod, Jesus, and Pat the Pirate

My friends often complain that I'm never on instant messanger. For good reason, I try to limit my usage to business and school work, and don't log on other than when I need information from someone. Of course, tonight I just needed a distraction, and after two minutes of being online she found me.

I was in the middle of an Alex Ip conversation about CS and such when my facebook friend (Christine) messaged me. I laughed at first, because chode has been talking about all the wierd im's he gets from guys who saw him on the site. This was my first, and not necessarily unsolicited since we'd been messaging back and forth for a while.

She was excited to find me online. I pulled the typical bland and coy routine, trying to feel my way into the conversation. She didn't buy it. She said I needed to lighten up. So then we started talking about hispanic midgets, how I hated/she liked the show Friends, law school, and the tent she had just bought. Infact, she was in the tent at that very moment, typing to me on her laptop.

I was impressed.

It was something that I could see myself doing -- being so wrapped up in a new purchase that you just couldn't put it down. It's like sleeping with your new baseball glove, or refusing to leave your new chair. Sometimes I still like to lace up my track spikes, even though it's been nearly four years since I put them on and got into the starters blocks for a race. To me, sitting in a tent was completely normal.

So we messaged some more. And we kept going, so I told her this was pretty dumb and that we should just meet in person since we were both up and just a block away. Besides, at this point I was convinced I was actually talking to some guy who was just leading me on, and that there was no tent. I had to make sure this was actually happening. She was reluctant at first, and I was ready to go to bed, but then we somehow drifted back to religion. Then she said she was calling an emergency meeting -- I had to discuss this with her -- in the tent.

So then it's midnight, and I'm walking to her apartment so we can sit in her tent and talk about Jesus. I went, and I know that you probably think we're both crazy for sitting in a tent indoors. But the craziest part is that it was one of the most intense and enjoyable conversations I've had at Cornell. She was genuine, and warm. There were no pretenses of facades. No lies between us.

Earlier this year, a bunch of students got together and protested Cornell's proposed West Campus parking lot. They didn't want the University to tear down a forest to build it and promptly launched the "save the Redbud woods" movement. It seemed passionate, and in some ways I was envious. I wanted to feel that passionate about something. But then a few months ago I was talking with one of the leaders of the movement, and he admitted to me that he has never really spent any time in the redbud woods, he just thinks its something worth protesting. That drove me crazy! How could he protest to save something he didn't know anything about? Something he'd never done anymore than look at from the window of a house or car?

And that's what made the conversation in the tent so amazing. It was all upfront, and none of it was manufactured or contrived. We rambled about a bunch of topics, and just spoke our minds. It was so free and unsheltered, something I haven't had since Nagowski's nights on the porch.

I've been looking for a Victory Club formal date, and originally thought she might like to go. When I asked, I jokingly added that I wondered what she would look like in a cocktail dress. She assurred me (and after meeting her I could see it) that she would look good. I think from now on though, I'm going to start asking people what we'd talk about if we were sitting in a tent.

Hopefully they'll answer God, the Yankees and Pat the Pirate.

It's just five days

First night back and already the sleeplessness is setting in. I think I'm just too pent up over stuff, and need to relax a bit. I'm almost done with a paper that should have been in last Monday. The concepts are not hard, I know all the material and have done all the reading. The hard part is forcing myself to sit down and write it. It's like the challenge is gone becuase I know, I know the answers. If it's not a personal challenge, then why is it worth doing? I suppose an A would be nice, but it's not the same motivation. I'm just going to have to bite the bullet -- get it done, staple my doctor's note to it, and hand it in.

I'm babbling, though. Or am I? Is it possible to babble in a textual setting?

It's warm in Ithaca, and warmer in the apartment. I'm really enjoying the weather and having my window open. The best part is that it feels like the summer again. I spent the whole summer here, with Graham and Jason and Kajsa, and now that feeling is back. It was filled with lazy days and nights, and brimming with promises of greatness that never seemed to materialize, as if they were a passing dream in the morning sun or the fading touch of a love long lost. The soft June breezes whispered -- beckoned -- to us from the outside in the afternoons, and drove us to mischeif at night.

After their classes (and my job at the Journal), we'd make dinner and lay out in front of the TV watching endless hours of baseball. The weekends started on Thursdays for us then, and people seemed to be in high spirits. Tonight was the same way, with a similar cast of characters (Graham is living here again, and Jason came to visit). We watched playoff basketball this time; secure in the comforts of our living room, the comforts of each other's friendly chatter.

Of course now the weekend starts on Friday afternoon. There are deadlines to meet and projects to accomplish. I view the week not as a liesurely stroll, but rather as a race. It's filled with hurdles, and while I can see the finish line -- Friday -- clearly in the distance, it's still seems so far away. I know it will be a quick race, and in the end it'll linger like a childhood memory -- more sensory than substantive. Still, it's the anticipation that's got me now. It's the anticipation that always gets me.

And so at 4:26 a.m., I sit in the dark of my room. I await the dawn that signals the start of the day. I await the race's beginning, only in that it will speed the coming of the end.

All dressed up ... no one to take

Yesterday was a bit depressing. It was a suny and warm 60+ degrees in B-Lo, and an equally impressive sunny and warm temp in Ithaca. But where was I? On the couch, indoors. sure I got to go outside for a little bit, but even then my mom made me bundle up and sit on a blanket.

"The Grass is damp and wet," she scolded. I wanted to argue back: so is the shower, but I was still allowed to take one of those yesterday; but thought better of it.

I'm pretty much over the symptoms of both the mono and the strep, the frustrating thing now is just how long I'm supposed to be inactive for. And what the hell does that mean? They keep telling me I can't play contact sports, but if I'm feeling up for it, is running okay? How about lifting at the gym? I know I'm going to be tired for a while -- I'm tired now -- but when can I start doing what? Someone really needs to write an instruction book about this stuff.

But that's not what's really eating me.

There's a list out there of 101 things every Cornellian needs to do before they graduate. It's in some book, and I got it again in an e-mail while a freshman. I was pretty excited then, reading through the list, to have discovered that I had hit a lot of it. I think I was up to 43 things, and there were some others you couldn't do (like meet AR Ammons for breakfast at Temple of Zeus, becuase he had passed away since the list's creation). I felt like I would complete the list before May 2005, my expected departure from the Hill. On Thursday I got a little bit closer -- the EIC is going out of town the weekend of Victory Club, and offered up the complementary tickets the paper gets. I snagged them.

What's so great about Victory Club? It's supposed to be this black tie affair, very posh, very uppity. All the "cool" kids go -- actually I don't know anyone who's gone to Victory Club outside of some of the brothers who run it, which is more the reason why I want to go -- just to see and experience it. It should be a good time, like a big who's who campus cocktail party.

So what am I frustrated about? Finding a date is tough work.

I had been having a rather nice string of cmc (computer mediated communication) conversations with this girl over the facebook.com, so I asked her. I assumed the worst (that she had a boyfriend), and sure enough it looks like she does becuase she shot me down and used him as the reason. I'm not upset or mad, just dissapointed in her limited ability to conceptualize our relationship. If we can be friends in a virtual setting, and talk about things like the Yankees, Cornell and God online, what makes going with and talking to me at Victory Club taboo? Is anything any different outside of the setting? If her boyfriend is worried about me breaking them up in person, what makes me harmless online? I still have all the same thoughts, dreams and anatomical parts -- only the settings change, not the people or the topics.

Through comparison we can further see that the settings aren't really that different. I'm assuming that she uses her facebook account in a private manner, and doesn't necessarily share the exact text of our messages with anyone. Virtually, this can be compared to talking at a corner table of a restuarant. Our conversation is secluded and intimate in both places (online and in our imaginary resturant setting), and in neither are we truly bothered by outside or overhearing conversational attaches. Comparing both of these settings -- our virtual corner, and restuarant table -- to the Victory Club setting, there is some noticeable change however.

If anything, our social interactions would be more reserved and more guarded while at the formal than while online. This is due to the presence of others, social onlookers who would force us to behave in the norms dicated by the situation. Clearly, even if I had the intentions to, we wouldn't be engaged in things viewed negatively by her boyfriend (i.e. sexually charged conduct on the dance floor) becuase it's not what the social norms of the evening allow. From all angles, their relationship would actually appear to be less in danger if we met in person than online, becuase it deflates all the mystery and social ambiguity from the situation.

(Ambiguity has long been thought to be one of the driving forces behind online chat and dating sites, becuase it allows us to portray a different side of ourselves than we can in person. The bald man can pretend to have hair, the woman can pretend to be a man. We are excited, boldened, and empowered by the possibilities that these new roles offer us. It all drives us forward in our online interactions. We are enthralled with the steps and rythm of our new social dance -- our conversational tangoes.)

Online situations are so perplexing. I'm definitely going to have to focus in on this in my honors thesis next year. In the meantime, if you are a fun-loving female (class of '06 and up please) who likes to dance, can carry on conversation from topics ranging from politics to the infield fly rule, isn't looking for any kind of sexual hijinks, and would like to go to Victory Club, please feel free to contact me. I've got the tux and tickets, I just need a date.

Maybe I Could Get a Summer Job With the Circus

"Whoa -- you could ski off that thing!"

or at least that's what the look in the doctor's eyes told me. I suppose it's a good thing. All of my attempts to get a summer internship (see 30+ applications to daily papers, a resume submission to Intel, and two senate applications) have produced nothing so far, I suppose I could string this sick thing out and join the circus.

"I've never seen anyone's neck swell up that much," is what he actually said. "You must have been sitting next to some really sick kids in class."

"Well I didn't get this sick the fun way," I told him. He laughed. I'm glad someone can.

And the good news from my doctor's visit today? ... yeah, I'm still waiting for that, too. Apparently it's going to take me 4-8 weeks to get completely over the mono thing. The doctor even said that having strep and the mono must really suck. I wasn't sure if I should correct him. "Really suck" is a bit of an understatement.

At least the swelling has gone down enough so that I can eat solid food again. The Penicillin also seems to be kicking in. So the next question that needs to be answered is, can I pull a full day's work at school? I mean, going to class and sitting there, taking notes is all fine and well. Yet what about the 25-minute walk to class, and the 25-minute walk back? Let's not forget the extra reading, project meetings, and assignments that are currently piling up while I'm sitting at home, sleeping 18 of 24 hours of the day.

Ugh.

And now that I've been awake three hours, it's time for bed.

Fun with Mono

So I got up at 8:30 this morning to get ready to meet my advisor. Then I turned off my alarm by mistake and rolled back over in bed. Around 8:53, I woke up and realized I should get moving. But I couldn't. My legs felt like jello, and my entire body was burning up. Eventually I made my way out of bed, and into the kitchen where I drank some water, took some pills, and hopped in the shower.

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't get myself onto campus -- didn't have the energy to make the 20+ minute walk. Instead I called my advisor, and on the third phone call got a hold of him. We discussed my Fall courses, what I might do for an honors thesis, and the passover holiday. I told him I went to my first Seder dinner, and then we talked about his first Seder at home, which happened this past week. Then he wished that I get well, and we both hung up.

Which is when I went back to bed for the second time. I tried to get up at noon, then 1, then settled for 1:38 p.m. I needed to put together a financial statement for a scholarship, as well as a statement about my interpersonal communication skills. I managed to put the two together in about an hour, and by 3:00 p.m. I was on campus. I handed everything in around 3:26 p.m., and then headed to Gannett. My throat had been killing me since Wednesday, and I was going to go get some drugs to take care of it.

So I got to Gannett and went to sign in. They asked me to fill out my symptoms on a sheet, and asked what I was going through. I told the woman I had a swollen throat and my glands were larger than normal. Then the look on her face changed. It was like I had just told her the Russians had launched the bomb. She told me to wait in the seats, and almost immediately someone came and took me to a room.

"It sounds like you have something pretty serious," they said. "We're sending you to level 6 to see this person."

Then the nurse scribbled someone's name on a sheet of paper, and sent me upstairs. I went up to level 6, checked in, and was told to wait. About three minutes later, another nurse came and put me in a room. I sat there for a while, at one point almost tossing my cookies. Of course, since I hadn't eaten solid food in a while, there were no cookies to be tossing. Instead I just spit up tons of flem into the garbage can.

Then the doctor came in. I had recovered, and was sitting on the examination table by then. She immediatley started saying things like "I knew you had mono!" And "Look at the size of your glands!" I thought she was a quack -- I mean, everyone says that Gannett tells you, you either have mono or you're pregnant. The pregnant thing was a bit off the mark for me, so I figured mono was the only other thing they could diagnose me with.

But then she showed me why she thought I had mono. I don't know if she was making it up, but it's hard to make up the spots on the roof of my mouth, and the blood tests that say I do indeed have mono.

So I guess I've got mono. And they also told me that I might have strep throat, so they put me on penecillin, too. I called Mary Ann when I got back. She and Bill are coming to get me tonight. I'm going to be home for a while. I figure I'll get better rest there.

Sick Again

"Dude you look like shit," Jon told me, as I took my fleece off my face.

I had been sleeping on his big green couch -- the Shamrock -- for more than a hour. I was in Room 10 at the house, and had wandered up there after having dinner on campus with one of the comm professors and our advisees. It was the end of a very long day, and after not being able to swallow solid food larger than some lucky charms cereal, the feaver had hit me.

I turned over on my side, mumbled something back to Jon, and spent the next three hours or so wandering in and out of consciousness. Not even Joel's blaring music woke me, a surprise considering how loud it was. It seemed like I had been passed out for hours, but it was just 9:30 when I finally was moved to get off the couch. Jon and I then took matching shits, discussed our upcoming pledge activity, and said goodnight. I wandered downstairs to see if I could get someone to give me a ride home.

Our pledges are good kids. Sure enough, one of them was willing to give my sorry as a lift back to college town. Before we left, though, I raided the bar, taking a bottle of W-Up and leaving $5 in it's place. I really neeeded to get some liquid in me, and figured I should pay my social fee for the week. Killing Two birds with one stone was pretty good.

So then I came home, passed out for a while more, and woke up to find Condaleza Rice on TV. Apparently I had fallen asleep again while watching C-Span. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't follow the testimony -- I was too out of it. Instead I flipped around and started in on the W-Up.

And now I'm headed to bed. But not before I had a fun chat with Jevon and Graham. We just sat in the common room for a while, talking about this and that. Then Graham said something really funny.

"Look at that Gouter on Your neck!"

I was worried this morning when I woke up, becuase my neck looked wierd and swollen in the mirror. No one said anything all day, though, which surprised me. When Graham did, I laughed.

We later named my swollen left gland "Svelt." While he's been great, I hope Svelt calms down soon. I miss being able to swallow real food.

Holidays are Happy Family Times...

So I attended my first Seder tonight. It was an interesting and enjoyable time, and I highly recommend the experience to other non-jewish students.

Midway through Bill and Mary Ann stopped to say hello. They had just spent the weekend visiting my brother, and when asked about it my dad shook his head and my mother just started to cry. I then offered to go have dinner with them, but they declined. I even invited them in to join the Seder, noting that there was plenty of food, but they also declined.

"I don't want to pull you away from your friends," Mary Ann said tearfully.

I said it was no problem, and that we should catch dinner, but they still said no. Nothing I said or offered seemed to change the fact that this was going to be a short visit. It was strange. I mean, these are the people I have had great, long conversations with. We've always gotten something to eat whenever they visit -- even if it's just been ice cream after a concert. We always go somewhere, and we always talk. And there was so much to talk about this time, especially since I haven't had a substantial phone conversation with them since last Wednesday or so.

But no. Something that had happened hundreds of miles away was biting at them. Mary Ann was bitter, and while I know she didn't mean to take it out on me, she did. And it really sucked. In the end we had an awkward ten-minute conversation, spelled with some relief from Justin -- one of the brothers who was parking his car. Then they got back into the car and left.

I called my brother later to tell him he was an asshole for making mom cry. I hope he feels guilty. After 20+ years of having mom and dad help him along into adult hood, he really should.

Razzing an old Friend

SkyCam2: i spent all day with karl ravech, buck martinez, and scott reiss in the studio updating all the games
FushYuki: that's kind of cool
FushYuki: how do they take their coffee?
SkyCam2: buck takes his black
SkyCam2: don't know about the others
SkyCam2: and no, i don't get coffee for them, i heard someone offering to make a cafeteria run
FushYuki: lol

Things Panned Out

So the other night, I came home to find my inbox cluttered with e-mails. Most were from work (still haven't started rebuilding my filters yet), but one was from a person I had never heard of before. While most of the time I delete these e-mails, the subject inspired a change of heart.

"we have your frying pan"

It was all I needed to know. Of course, inside were details of how to get my pan back, and how they stumbled on it. Apparently after visiting, the girls became curious and dug around the apartment. Tucked away in some obscure drawer was my pan, with the note Sarah told me she had written.

I was really excited. Haven't gotten it back yet, but I'm still really excited.

---

Course enroll is tomorrow, but I've got to be to work by 8 a.m. I'm thinking of going in, getting into the building early, and setting up my laptop to do course enroll via the wireless connection we have. Then, I figure I can get it done on time and be to work early. We'll have to see if this bone-headed scheme actually works.

---

Last night Jason, Phil and I decided to make burgers and waffles. The result was a damn-good waffle burger, and a hilarious ride through college town. On our way back from Wegmans, we drove all around Cornell. I held the box of Waffle mix out the window and yelled things to people.

A lot of them responded positively to the messages of "Waffles!" and "Make waffles, not love," with some even responding back. One guy chased us down to a red light, poked me on the shoulder and yelled "Waffles Rule" into the car.

Due to the wild popularity of our waffling message, we have decided to make a whole box of mix next weekend, and take the resultant waffles into college town around 1 a.m. when the bars close. We're then going to hand the waffles out to people. Phil really wants this to take off, thinking we could be known as the waffle guys. I just want to see people's reactions. If you want in, e-mail me. The address is on the left-hand side of this page.

A Guest Rant:

"Dear Mr. Buck,

I recently appealed ticket number #523485, and I have received your
response to my appeal. I feel that your response is both misguided and
extraordinarily misinformed.

Firstly, you wrote in your letter, "I understand you do not feel the above
violation was properly issued." To that, I have a simple response: The
violation WAS NOT properly issued. As I indicated in my initial appeal, I
always park in the metered spaces, which are clearly marked, and are
clearly posted to be free in the evening. There are never any exceptions
to this. Why would I park in a spot that is restricted and get a ticket
when I can park in a spot that is free and unrestricted?

Secondly, you indicate that "the ticketing officer has clearly indicated
that your vehicle was parked in a space by Helen Newman Hall individually
posted as reserved for "MT" permits at all times." You mean to tell me
that the ticketing officer remembers exactly where I was parked on March
8th at 7:02 p.m.? I highly doubt this, especially considering the fact
that the ticketing officer incorrectly labeled my car as a 4-door sedan on
the ticket when in fact my car is a 2-door coupe. Since he or she could
not even correctly identify how many doors my car has, I would think that
his or her memory as to the spot I was parked in would be incredibly
suspect.

Lastly, you wrote: "As I can find no error in how this violation was
issued, the fine is being upheld." You go on to say, "If you have
additional factual evidence that demonstrates you did not violate the
cited regulation, you may reappeal within ten calendar days." My question
to you is, what factual evidence would be required for you to eliminate
the fine? Clearly your only goal is to extract as much money as possible
from every person possible, so why would you eliminate my fine at all? The
answer is that you wouldn't...judging from the wording of your letter and
how quick you are to assume that the ticketing officer did not make any
mistakes, you have one motivation: to make money. However, I again pose
the following question to you: Why would I park illegally when I can park
in metered spots which are free? The answer is that I wouldn't, because I
am a rational human being.

Please note that I have written the check for the ticket and will mail in
my payment tomorrow. However, please note that I now carry a camera in my
car at all times, and if I am ticketed a third time incorrectly, I WILL
take you, as well as Cornell Transportation and Mail Services to court,
and my lawyer has assured me that I am well within my legal right to do
so.

Regards,
Philip Rant"

A Hussein Moment

We have a brother in our house who's done some pretty crazy things (think substances), and occasionally it shows. The past two days, I think I've had some of those crazy moments.

No, no drugs for me (not the fun ones anyway), just good old fashioned fever and dizziness to make me slightly less perceptive than normal. Of course, while walking around while sick instills a strange and almost fun-house like feeling (loopiness, jolting sensation -- not necessarily bad, just different -- shooting down your extremeties with every step. Yeah, I kind of like it, except for the falling over feeling.), being bed ridden does something else.

It seems to be a lot like the withdrawl symptoms I've read Steven Tyler had. I convulse alot. One minute I'm burning up and sweating -- the next I'm freexing cold. I've got two sweatshirts, a fleece, and a long sleeve-t next to (or on) me at any minute of the day. I'm rarely hungry, I pee the color orange, and my eyes hurt to open.

Being sick sucks. It also messes up your sleep schedule, something awful, which is why I'm up at 6:06 a.m. writing.

But the cool thing is that you look for something to do. I could be studying for a test I have this Friday (tomorrow -- gasp!), but instead I checked out the web stats for the new Daily Sun site. They're pretty cool. It turns out that my column was viewed 189 times yesterday. Considering we ususually sell around 80-150 papers at news stands, and then those papers are re-read in places such as Trillium and the Ivy Room, I can estimate that around 300 people read my column yesterday.

Why should you care? You really shouldn't. Why should I care? I really shouldn't. But it's cool to say that I'm the best read sports columnist on the website.

(No. 18, currently as the most requested article at our new site -- the only "regular" columnist beating me is Mark Harrison, but that shouldn't even count becuase he wrote about Cornell and the SAT. Can you imagine how many long island families spend time researching "Cornell + SAT" in google?)

Oh, and Spring has finally arrived in Ithaca. It's early morning and I can once again hear several birds chirping outside my window.

Not panning out as hoped...

So today Daniel and I went to go turn in our last check to Sage Associates, for our posh and swanky senior year housing. Well, it was the last check for this school year, anyway.

We both had class until 11:25, but were free after that, so we met at Mallott. I got worried becuase the guest speaker we were having in Comm 345 was running long, and I know how anal Dan is about punctuality. I got outside to meet him at around 11:30. He commented about me being late at 11:31. At 11:32, midway between Day Hall and Mallott, Dan remembered he needed to mail some letters to his parents. At 11:38, after a trip through the magical underground passage that is the belly of Trillium, we were back on our way to turn in our checks.

The rest of the trip there was seemingly un-eventful. We turned in our checks. I signed some form. The ladies in the office smiled at us. Then we left. On our way back, however, Daniel reminded me of something I had told him just minutes earlier. Some girls I had never met had a pan of mine, and I should get it back.

If you're confused, you're not the only one. You should have seen the look on the girl's face when she came to the door of her apartment to find Dan and I standing there.

But this was no ordinary apartment.

This was the apartment that just a semester ago had been home to Rachel (of rice rocket fame), Sarah, and Lauren. Rachel and I used to take turns cooking at each other's places, and one time I brought a really good frying pan over to do catfish in. It was specialized, with ridges and grooves to lift the object you fry out of the grease it may produce. I dare say it was my favorite pan. But I'm an idiot. I left the pan at Rachel's late in the semester, and we both forgot about it. I got back to school after break to realize I didn't have my pan, or a way to contact Rachel, who had since gone abroad for the semester.

So fast forward from that point, two weeks, where I am visiting frm. roommate Dylan at the Cornell in Washington center. We did the dinner thing, watched West Wing with his current roommates, and talked for a bit. Then, during the evening people started to drop by. One of them was Sarah, who had lived with Rachel the semester before.

"Your pan is still at my apartment," she told me. "I left a note for the girls who moved in, so you should go ask for it."

Well fast forward another eight weeks, to today, when I tried go get it. The girl was confused, and polietely showed me all the cookwear in the apartment. My Pan was not among them. I left crushed, to take solice in an afternoon nap.

(On another tangent, they only had two frying pans. Two?!? -- how can anyone cook with just two frying pans?!? I mean, I have a roasting dish, wok, several frying pans of varying sizes, pots, and even a freakin' waffle maker. And *warning -- oncoming sexist comment -- * they were women. If I have an X and Y chromosome, and all that stuff, they should have at least half that. At least a third pan, or a pot or something...)

Spring Breaking

I'm at wits end here -- thank God spring break is almost over. For some reason, I cannot sleep in any later than 5 a.m., and usually give up sleeping in general around 6 (despite having gone to bed around 1 a.m.). Resigned to napping most of the afternoon away, I have developed a vicious cycle, missing out on the sunlight and warmer weather that is not Ithaca. (Not that Lancaster's been sandy beaches or anything of the like...)

Bill and Mary Ann have been wonderful hosts, although I've already settled on a warmer climate for next year. Mr. Frasco recommends The Islands, Mexico (Cancun, if I recall properly), or the great state of Florida -- all prime choices that I hope to work out with the Men of Sage. If they can't settle on something, I'm hoping to get some of the fraternity brothers together for some bar hopping in warmer climates.

Oh, and while I'm rambling ... anyone else notice how quickly "Honey" moved from theaters to DVD? If only the good movies could do that, that quickly. I saw Starsky and Hutch last night with the 'rents, and they loved it. Personally, I thought it dragged a bit in the beginning, but then quickly got up to good-humor speed. Not quite the plot complexity of Zoolander, or Tennenbaums, and the characters weren't as developed, but easily a fan favorite for any Wilson/Stiller film.

(Although lets be honest, can anything beat Meet the Parents? Maybe Meet the Fuckers (due out this Spring/Summer), but Parents was a damn good film, and offered the talents of both Stiller and Wilson.)

Gems from my most recent Canadian sojourn, coming soon...

Can you strike out with one swing?

So tonight I got home and checked my messages. The machine was blinking, telling me that I had two of them.

"Hi this is Brook, I tried to call you twice last weekend but you're never home, and I don't like to leave messages on machines but..."

I admit, I smiled. But the message didn't say much. She apologized for not calling me sooner, and said that I was sweet, and to give her a call.

So why is this guy such a sweet guy? Perhaps pathetic, shy, and clueless could also be used to describe this guy. You see, last Tuesday I decided I was going to nut up and ask this girl (Brook) out. I had met her a few weeks earlier at the house, and we'd had some pretty good conversations since then. She seemed payful, she smiled at me, and she liked to dance. To top it off she was a curly-haired blonde (dyed as I later found out, but who am I kidding -- the larger-looped curly hair drives me crazy). Needless to say, I was sold at first sight.

So I had this plan. I was going to buy a single carnation, walk up to her place, and ask her out. Then things started to go wrong, fateful even. The florist was out of carnations, so I had to buy something else. I ran into everyone I knew on the way to her place, and they of course asked me what I was doing with a flower. And the biggest problem -- she wasn't home.

Now, the first thing they teach you in the boy scouts is to tie a square knot. Somewhere after that they drill into your head that you should always be prepared, and about the third time you forget your poncho during rainy season at summer camp it breaks through. Remembering these timeless lessons, I brought a note, just incase she wasn't home.

It was simple. "Brook, I think you're cool ... call me sometime if you want to hang out ..." I drew my inspiration from that one note I got in sixth grade history class. Albeit, I didn't have any boxes saying: check yes if you like me...

So I left it. Then I waited. And Waited. And Waited.

Nearly two weeks later, she calls me. Excitedly I begin planning out where we might go, what we might do, what I should say on the phone. To gauge my level of elation and comittment to what I think of this girl, I offer you this: I even cleaned our bathroom -- toilet and all.

So then I realize I might be putting my cart before the horse, reach for the phone and call her.

me: Hi
Brook: Hi (as if she had my number programed in)
me: It's Matt
Brook: I know ... so ...
(insert meaningless tap-dancing conversation here)
Brook: The flower was really sweet
me: ...
Brook: I have a boyfriend


Too bad sweet also equates to lonely...

Verb choice: killed vs. died

Cornell student George Boiardi passed away yesteray evening after taking a shot to the chest during a varsity lacrosse game. Admittedly I was stunned, first to hear the news, second to the idea that none of the other beat writers (I cover the team) had contacted me, third to hear the news.

I saw it on the way to class today. I was passing the Indian-run convenience store by the Eddy Gate, when I saw the Ithaca Journal banner headline in the news stand. I didn't catch the words, but the photo was unmistakable -- a paper-width shot of the men's lacrosse team, lined up and on their knees. I quickly bought a copy, along with the day's Daily Sun.

What started as a walk to class has quickly turned into a trial of sorrow and reflection.

I didn't know George and had never met him during my time covering the team, but the fact that he was chosen as a team captain tells me plenty. He was clearly a dedicated teammate, caring friend, and talented athlete. I have no way of putting into words what his teammates must be feeling. I feel for them, his family, and even more so for the young man who fired the shot. I hope that he doesn't blame himself for the fluke accident.

Which leads me to something that I've been questioning all day: killed, or died? As a writer, word choice is crucial becuase of the emotions and memories certain phrasings may envoke.

To me, the word killed implies malice. You kill an enemy, or a pest. Murderers kill. Killing happens on the battle field. So does it apply to an athletic event?

When a student commits suicide, we say suicide. We say they passed away, or died. We don't say that the razor blade, overdose, or gorge killed them. Instead, we describe those things as a cause of death.

That said, I take issue with the use of the word "killed" to describe George's death. George died, of an accident no less. There was no malice. There was no intent. There was no killing.

As The Sun turns...

A controversy is a brewin'

Apparently, I was not elected to a senior editor position at The Daily Sun, despite garnering more than the necessary total number of votes. What does this mean? Two things: first, from an election standpoint, one or more of the big three (Editor in Cheif, Managing Editor, Business Manager) didn't vote for me, and two, I am for all practical purposes done at The Daily Sun.

I'll keep the column. I'll keep my beat. It wouldn't be fair to dump more work on the current editors. I will not however help with pullouts, read over and edit content, or design pages. Those are rights and responsibilites reserved to editors, of which I am supposedly not one.

And the Controversy? Well, for starters, the current sports editor said he'd quit if I didn't win. Does he hold up to his word and shock the rest of the editorial board? Do his assistants go too? It'd cripple the paper, and create an interesting standoff. What if the other editors followed? How strongly do they feel about it?

Then again, all of this is just based off of bits and pieces of rumors. We'll find out the whole thing on Tuesday, when (undoubtably) I'll be whining and speculating again.

If anyone has any suggestions for my newfound free time, feel free to pass them along.

---

And Cornell lost in hockey tonight. It was dissapointing to say the least. Check out my column in The Sun tomorrow for my full thoughts on the season.

An officer and a (half naked) gentleman...

So Wednesday night soon turned into Thursday morning as I struggled to finish up my notebook for Comm 345, and put together a video segment for my Comm 486 class. To top it off, I had just spent several hours at the paper, working to ensure that the Hobo feature I had written was properly published. Four extremely long readings, and one dropped CS class later, and our dear friend Mr. Sun was beginning to make his brief, yet daily appearance on the Ithaca horizion. The all-nighter was over, and the morning after had come.

So there I was, coasting through the day, making some insightful — yet mostly incoherent — comments in lecture, and slowly counting down the hours until I could go home and collapse into a ball on my bed. Nap time came soon enough, yet was too brief. I awoke at 6:30 p.m., to call down to the Daily Sun office and see if anyone had gotten hockey qoutes. This night would (hopefully not) be the last hockey pullout I would ever have to work on. (Hopefully not, beucase we'd do another one if the team went to the NCAA Frozen Four in Boston, and that'd be worth the lost sleep).

Owen, the new sports editor, picked up the phone. No one, to his knowledge had gotten qoutes. I hung up the phone, put pants on, and rushed to East Hill.

The ice was empty when I arrived, but the lights were still on in the hockey office. Breathless, I rushed in to find Sue, the hockey secretary, finishing up for the night. We chatted a while, and I took a sigh of relief since Alex — the former sports editor — had actually gone to practice before me. Sue and I chatted for a while, and then I went home to write up my senior editor proposal and head to the office.

I made it to the office around 9:30, after a meager lunch/dinner of four eggs (scrambled) and some chopped up sasuage. I then started writing one of my two articles for the night. Total, I'd have to produce 1800 words out of basically nothing. It was nerve wracking, but four hours, and 12 mini chocolate covered donuts later, I finished. Then Alex and I laid in the text, wrote some headlines, and headed home.

So now it's 3:30, and I check my e-mail and get into bed. Four a.m. rolls around, and cue our mysterious phone call:

me: Hello?
them: Did you just call 911?
me: No, we're all sleeping here.
them: are you sure?
me, nervously: uh, yeah...
them: well an officer will be by to check on you in a few minutes.

'Click'

So now I'm freaked out, and trying to figure out the best way to check on my apartmentmates. I decide just to knock and ask if they're okay, and three-minutes of confused conversation later, I find out they all are indeed just fine. Then the office shows up.

Now keep in mind, it's 4 a.m. I sleep in my underwear (little boy underpants, as Mr. Mcalvin has described them). There's now a stranger at the door, forcing me to put pants on. I'm not happy. Then he starts asking questions like, "why can't I speak with the other people who live here?" and "Why am I supposed to believe that just becuase you look like the guy on this id that you are the Matthew who lives at this address and who's name the phone is registered under?"

Luckily Brian, one of the guys I live with, was up going to the bathroom at this time, and was able to corroborate some of my facts. Then the officer left, and I went back to bed.

---

Playoff hockey tonight, and it was amazing. The team scored five goals total, and had an incredible amount of energy in the first. There was also a great fight, but it's late so I'll describe it another time. Expect another confused story about a girl as well.

How I nutted up...

coming soon...

And you know it'll be an instant classic becuase it's about romance, mystery, intrigue and stove-top delights.

Happy and you know it

I've been described and named many things. Childish, obnoxious, sweet, a credit union ... but today, at the risk of appearing self depricating, I'd like to add one to the list:

Happy.

Last night was my last night as an editor at the paper, meaning that now I don't need to spend 20-40 hours a week immersed in the Daily Sun. I'm excited at the prospects my newfound freedom brings me. I can live a life again, be social, do my homework...

The best part is that I feel happy. It hasn't completely sunk in yet, but I know it will over the next few days. Already I feel as if a great weight has been removed from my shoulders. I hope this is only the beginning.

Now don't get me wrong -- I've loved my Daily Sun editorial experience. Without it, I'd have half a dozen fewer close friends. The bonds I've made while taking road trips, putting out wraps and dicking around at the office rival those from pledging. Without being an editor I never would have met Jeremy Schaap, let alone have his cell phone number.

The Lacrosse, Football and Hockey seasons? Priceless. I love interacting with those guys, getting involved, it's like falling in love with someone, only my someone is a team of 20+ sweaty guys and a rough and tumble coach. You feel for them; angst when they don't make the post season, happiness when they do, and sheer joy when they go all the way.

But today, I'm done. Today I'm going to the gym for the first time all semester. Today I'm having dinner at the house. Today I'm joking around with the housmates. Today I'm happy.

*expect the daily details after this weekend ... I've got some good ones coming up.

What is it about the yellow ones?

So yesterday morning, I went to my shift at the helpdesk -- 8 a.m. -- like usual. Things progressed normally, the shifts changed over, and I was free to leave. As I packed up, however, this really cute girl came up to the counter. Still gathering my things up, I listened in.

"Is Andrew here?"

"He Just left," the front desk consultant said.

"Oh, I'll come back."

Now I don't really know too much about the consultants or their personal lives, but in the case of most, they have no lives outside of the helpdesk. Andrew seemed like a cool customer, so I didn't make this assumption about him, but the visitor did surprise me. When I was back on shift in the afternoon, he came in to do his afternoon thing, so I asked him about it.

And he had no idea.

I was baffled -- envious more so. Andrew had a secret admirer, or stalker of some sort and she was cute. She happened to come back in the afternoon, and asked if Andrew was there. I took care of this time (being at the front desk), and offered to go get him. She declined, but handed me a bag to pass on.

I gave it to him, and he smiled, but he was still confused. Then his face brightened. Inside of the bag was a plastic, clear water bottle -- like a nalgene, but slightly smaller. Inside of that were a ton of skittles.

"She even knew I didn't like the yellow ones," Andrew said with a dreamy smile, referring to the fact that the girl had picked out all of the yellow skittles before filling the bottle.

I've since suspected that he knows more than he was letting on, but he really didn't seem to understand why he got a thing of skittles. And does it matter? Gifts from good looking girls? Mystery, surprise, romance? Who doesn't crave those things?

Perhaps the better question is what is it about the yellow ones?

---

It's strange sometimes to think that I work for the same organization (Daily Sun) that EB White, Dick Schaap, and thousands of other alumns have worked for, but it's also humbling. My work carries on their legends, perpetuates their myths, and continues to provide thousands with up to date, and accurate Cornell news.

So last night, when a writer phoned in an egregious error, I was inclined to fix it -- it's my duty as an editor to present the facts. I then wrote the editors in training a note, letting them know about the error. They had labeled John Edwards (D - N.C.) as a senator from South Carolina. Two writers, two news editors, and a copy editor had all read this story, and the gaffe had gone un-noticed until one of the authors phoned in the mistake. In my mind, it was as rediculous as saying A-Rod plays for the Mets; close, but no cigar.

In my passionate e-mail I noted that I -- an assistant sports editor -- knew that Dennis Kucinic was from Ohio, how come they didn't know where Edwards was from? I suggested they think about the great responsibility that they were about to enter into, and think of how they were connected to the greats such as White and Schaap. I let them know that I wasn't out to hurt feelings, but that I felt very strongly about this error. I also told them that if they wanted to vent at me, comment, or discuss, they should shoot me an e-mail.

The two editors in training sent me wonderful responses, citing their own love for the news and politics that they will soon be delivering to the campus. I feel that they now understand the scope of their new positions. One of the Editor in Chief candidates even applauded me for the note.

Then the hating began.

Another editor and I, who have never had a great amount of love for each other to begin with, blasted me -- calling me childish, hurtful, and obnoxious. Another told me that I should have sat down with them first, and that my comments weren't helpful. Yet does it hurt to strive for perfection? Is it childish and obnxious to take pride in my work, the organization it represents, and the rich history and tradition that has come before?

If it is, then lock me up and throw away the key. I plead guilty on all accounts.

---

I'm on a quest to change my CS 100 J grade to pass/fail. I need to get the proff's signature before Thursday at noon. I'm going to track down my own advisor tomorrow. If all else fails, I'm just going to drop the class and audit it.

Contending

So last night, Cornell came out to play the game like it always does. Weak, slow, lethargic, and unexcited. Honestly, I thought we'd lose or tie with the way they played into much of the second. And it's not that SLU was so great, it's just that the guys were slow. SLU had at least three one-timers that were three inches away from opening up the game, and finally one did. 1-0 SLU.

Strangely enough, the fan also weren't into it. Like the last home game we played against Yale, the score was 1-1 heading into the final period, but there was so much more energy then. I remember standing in the press box, having to shout to Bill Moore, feeling the concrete quiver beneath my feet. That's how loud Lynah was.

This week? Last night? Not the same, by a longshot.

But then they snapped out of it — the team, not the crowd — picking up a second, and game winning goal. They continued to pound away at SLU, dumping it into their end and beating them up along the boards. On one shift, Mike Iggulden left the ice, clearly winded, only to return and create a Cornell break away on the tail end of his next shift. For weeks, I've seen them dog it in the third, not give everything they had. This, and the following break away goal on the next shift, and the empty-netter punctuation mark, were signs of how things have changed.

And after Brown lost to Dartmouth, and Colgate lost to Clarkson, Cornell is just one point (and some help from SLU) out of first place in the ECAC. More importantly, this late in the season, the guys have put things together. For the first time this season, they looked like contenders.

Dare I say it? Froz ... no, not yet...

This just in....

The AIM headline scrolling bar just said this:

"Six Pence None the Richer Breaks Up..."

Who?

Last home hockey weekend is tonight, sort of. We're garaunteed a home playoff series, so there's going to be at least two more games. Still, it's an emotional weekend becuase the senior's parents all come, and they get introduced to teh crowd. It's really nostalgic and always makes me think about the last time I do things at Cornell (Like this Spring will be the last time I do Spring course enroll...).

Anyway, the weekend should be fun. It's the house's pledge alum weekend, which means all of our alumni come back and we have a rousing good time. Saturday night is culminated with a trip to the local ice rink, where we face off — Brothers vs. ALumni — in a fairly low-skilled hockey game. Needless to say, I'm excited.

95,000 and counting

It's amazing how interpersonal networks can blossom (and overlap). I recently started using my friendster account, and have added three friends in the past two days. Since then, my personal network has grown to more than 95,000 "friends." The craziest thing to me is that I was at 90,000 something just this afternoon.

Prelim tomorrow ... now it's time to start studying.

Smells like Spring

I was making one of my many Monday trips between Kennedy hall and the CIT HelpDesk center, when I noticed something exciting. With the air wafting from the north east, and a familiar friend poking out behind the clouds, Ithaca began to smell like Spring. It was only for an instance (someone with a cigarrette had to ruin it, of course), but it smelled like Spring.

And what does Spring smell like in Ithaca, you may be wondering?

Well...it feels like hitting the home stretch in a mile race. It is like winning. Spring means that you have survived the winter, that the break in the semester is almost here, that exams are on their way.

Basically, Spring smells like hope.

Sleep to Dream Her

(Warning -- the first part of this is Whiny -- for a substantial update, skip to the next section)

So the other night, a friend (Jackie) asked why a nice guy like me didn't have a girlfriend. I really couldn't answer the question. I suppose part of it deals with my inability to committ, and part of it stems from the fact that it's just hard to meet people at Cornell.

But it was nice she asked. She also made the comment that I should be getting laid regularly. It's nice to know someone else agrees...

We both happened to be at Bar night, and she ad just asked if I'd be a partner with one of her pledges for a game. I said sure, I figured I had nothing to lose. As it turned out, I didn't have much to gain either.

The girl was named Anna, and happened to be from Williamsville (a town back home, for those of you not familiar with B-lo). She was a freshman, and sported the typical "I'm too good for this guy" attitude. She even told Jackie that I was mean (?!?). We both sucked at the game we were playing, so Jackie and Jason (her boyfriend, and my pledge brother) were winning pretty handily. Of course, I took the blame for our team's poor performance, and when my some of Anna's friends offered to take over for me, I gladly let them.

My mind was elsewhere, particularly on the curly blonde haired girl in the other room.

We have a fair amount of attractive girls wander in and out of the house for Bar night, so when this one was in line to get a drink I was content to watch and day dream about things that would never happen ... like conversation...

But then it happened. She and her two friends happened to come on over, and I noticed she was checking me out. I was pretty excited but gave it another few minutes before confirming that she was actually checking me out. I glanced over a little while later, and sure enough she was still looking at me, and kind of smiling. She hadn't even gotten her drink yet.

So when two other brothers I was talking with turned to talk to them, I was stuck on the outside looking in. She pulled me into the conversation, though, reaching past them to ask me a question. I couldn't believe this. I was in the conversation, and things were going well.

She was there with her friend Allie, who I recognized as one of the regulars, and one other girl who I didn't remember. We chatted for a while, I apologized for not remembering their names, and we kept the conversation going.

But all the while she was still wearing her fleece -- not a good sign in the "are you sticking around for a while" department. As it turned out, she was also popular, and kept getting calls from other guys (all Freshman, though) asking where she was and how they would get there.

But we kept chatting it up, and she never really left. There were two other guys hanging around her all night, and both were freshmen, with one presenting himself serious competiton. He clearly already knew her, but they weren't dating, just having a good time. Eventually she (let slip/said) that she'd never date a younger guy. I'm not sure if this was her way of giving me a green light for asking for her number, and me not being swift in the dating vernacular department, I didn't ask for it.

So yeah, that's it. There's no grand conclusion. I didn't walk her home, almost hold hands with her, look at photos of her ex-boyfriend, or get her screen name. It was just something that I was excited about, and made me smile for a while. Hey -- you're the one reading this, so don't complain to me about content.

So did I dream about her -- is that where the title of the entry comes from? No.

Last night I had a dream about Briton, my pseudo high-school girlfriend. I say pseudo becuase we had a few dates before we both left for college, but that was about it. She also came to visit me freshman year, got hit on by every guy at a party we went to, and made all of the guys on my floor really jealous. H (Haymaenth - sp?) kept talking about her for the rest of the semester. She was definitely one to remember, but we lost touch, and I haven't seen her since two summers ago.

She was a thin brunette, about 5-7, with an olive complextion and dark eyes. Sultry would be a good word to describe her. She danced for fun, which is why she was in such good shape (see tight "everything"), and was easy to have a conversation with. We were comfortable with each other, and that's really what made it such a great (though limited, and short lived) relationship.

She's also set the bar for every other girl to measure up to since.

So last night, after spending the weekend with Ip, Owen, and Christine (the Photo editor) covering the hockey games, I came home, ate some cookies and went to bed. Then I had a dream about her.

She was hot, like always. I was in a computer lab somewhere, and she walked in the door. I was also surrounded by a bunch of girls who thought less of me (but I didn't care, the feeling was mutual). Briton walks in, comes over to me and sits in my lap. Everyone else in the room drops their jaw on the floor.

It was a great dream, and I don't remember what I was showing her on the computer, but I do remember being happy in it. It was hard not to be happy around her.

---

Prelims this week. I've got two of them, on top of some other quasi-nausating assingments to be done. I'm just hoping to do well on the prelims. Bill and Mary Ann have been nagging me for a while about my GPA, becuase semesters of "3.4" aren't good enough for them. It's just a pain in the ass.

Internship applications also need to go in soon. My Dept. Chair finally got back to me about submitting a letter of reccomendation for my attendance at a Journalism conference. The only problem is that the letter was due last Monday. He wants to meet tomorrow, where I'll tell him we missed the deadline, and then ask if I can have a different letter for an internship. I'm not sure how he's going to take it.

I've also only got four more times to desk. I'm really excited, beucase after that I can get some normal sleep patterns established, and resume going to my 9:05s.

I suppose in the end, it's just all frustrating. I feel like I'm really close to getting out of Cornell with everything I want -- an honors thesis, an acceptance to a top 20 law school, and possibly "honors." Still, I can feel things slipping away, and no matter how far I go to try to hold onto them, or tread water, it feels like I'm still drowning.

We ate at KFC last night in Albany, and I was estatic to see that they had parfaits. It reminded me of the times when Grandma and Grandpa would come and take me out to lunch on half-days of school. I had a parfait, and for three minutes I was six again, sitting there with Jake and Julie, reliving the glory days of legos and crayola crayons.

Then I finished the parfait, got indegestion, and realized how much everything sucks right now.

*sigh*

We'll just call it "Trainwreck"

I wrote a column today for that other *great* publication, the Cornell Daily Sun. It's in the sports section, and as some of you may have guessed from the title, it happens to be about one of my dating experiences.

[insert screaming here]

And e-mail from CIT to its network admins

"Hi,
At 2:58am on 2/10/04 we experienced a system crash due to a filesystem problem with spool3 on Postoffice8. At 5:30am we determined that the filesystem was corrupt and not stable. We attempted to restore the filesystem from backups but by late morning we realized that it would not complete in a timely fashion. We have created a empty spool with the same mailboxes as before the crash but they are empty at this time. We are continuing to restore the filesystem from backups and Sun technical staff are on-site to attempt to recover as much data as possible from the failed filesystem. We regret to inform you that the restoration of mail from before the crash will take an extended amount time and we don't have an ETA for that restoration at this time. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause. We will be contacting the affected users directly as well.

Jim Howell"

[insert my pained "I can't believe I lost all my e-mail" screaming, here]

Cornell the Craptacular

I had to wake up early to get to work by 8 a.m., but decided to get up even earlier today. I was a man on a mission, and my only objective was a Trillium Grill breakfast.

I wanted one of those greasy egg omlettes, with all the cheese and bacon. Then I wanted a really strong coffee to keep me going through the day. Of course, like most things at Cornell, what I wanted and what I ended up with were completely different.

I made it to Trillium with plenty of time (t-minus 10 minutes until work), and walked in through the double glass doors. Much to my surprise, there was no line. Upon closer inspection, there was also no grill.

That's right, due to an early morning fire, there would be no Grill that morning. I almost cried, but that would have meant Cornell got the best of me. Instead of my greasy egg omlette, with the cheese and the bacon, I had to settle for cold cereal.

I went to work, wrote some e-mails, renabled some freshmen's ethernet connections, and got ready to go to class. It was soc 101, one of my favorites.

You can never find a seat, the class is full of unintelligent underclassmen, and practically screams "Greek Athlete!" at you when you walk in the door. Still, I love it. The subject matter is so interesting (go social sciences -- last week we talked about Goffman and his notions of Face), and the professor is hot. Red hair, shapely body. She definitely provides for some pleasing lecture material.

To top it off, she has the European accent (which drives me nuts -- I love listening to it), and constantly slips in jokes. If you're not paying attention, you won't catch them, but I usually am, so the class is great for a laugh.

Then I went to Comm Law. Another class I love, this time only for the material (although the proff is really cool -- Dale Grossman). I had a hard time staying awake beucase I hadn't had my coffee yet, but managed to keep my eyes open for most of the class.

Then came lunch.

I headed back to Trillium, since the sign said it would only be closed for the morning. Of course, it was also close for the afternoon. No grill, no fried food, no happiness. Instead I walked to the Ivy Room, where I ran into Pledge EZ Bake. He was whining about how Latin was killing his GPA, and how his department chair lied to him.

He had asked earlier in the year if he could take the class pass/fail, but was told no. Then he found out he could. Apparently he's going to petition the dean of A&S, and pray to God that everything comes through. I hope it does. It wouldn't just be a victory for EZ Bake, but a victory for all of us who have gotten screwed in the GPA department while at Cornell. The proud owner of a 3.2 (give or take a .01), I can understand where he's coming from.

Then I took my fried food (ah, cholestorol), and headed back to work the afternoon shift. It was epic, to say the least.

There was no PC super, so I was flying blind, renabling ports left and right, and dishing out generic advice for complex problems. Somehow I always manage to make it through the supervisor shift ok, without anything or one blowing up. I think that's why they gave me a raise.

Then, out of nowhere, Cornell's commodity Internet goes down.

Sure, you can connect to any .edu, and any of Cornell's internal pages when on campus. You can even send e-mail to all members of the Cornell community. But you can't get outside, and those on the outside can't get in.

Ah, Cornell the Craptacular.

So here I sit, updating my blog, beucase my other favorite pastime (checking my e-mail) is lost to me.

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On a side rant, there was a mistake in this morning's Cornell Sun (there's always mistakes, but this one was important to me). The Communication department was called the "Communications" department. I would like to take this time and space to inform people of this egregious error.

As I wrote to editors-l, Ted Lowi does not teach for the Historys department. Likewise, A.R. Ammons (RIP) was not an Englishs faculty member. With this in mind, please note that there is no Communications department. Cornell, however, does offer study in the field of Communication.

Now I was called picky for noting this, but had it been your department, wouldn't you feel obliged to do the same? Maybe it's just my drive to make everything perfect, and fix every mistake I have the capacity to (I say capacity because Lord knows I've made my share of goofs in Sports). Yet if someone told me about my mistakes (and the sports editor has on numerous occurences), I'd take the time to make sure it didn't happen again and thank them for their views.

It'd be nice if everyone held that view.