Philonoist.net

Sometimes, I hate my own words. Hate the way they sound, the way they feel when I press them back into me. It’s not just the poison barbs I am so fond of throwing; it is every trite comment, every sarcastic backhand, every soul-bearing sensitive expose. I will not lie: in time, I will probably come to hate these very words, and the cycle will continue. These words, every word of mine, lost in a canyon of idiocy.

I know my problems, know their edges and definitions as though they were my eyes in the mirror. I use humor as an escape from unpleasantness. I dodge questions. I’m never serious. I’m too serious. I don’t ask enough questions. I talk too much. I don’t talk enough. I interject too often. I never have anything meaningful to say. Nobody confides in me.

His fortress, his Xanadu, his stronghold completed, the prince ponders his life. Nobody can get in – at the prince’s request, the engineers have seen to that. The moat lies filled with crocodiles, the walls lined with poisoned vines. It is an impregnable castle, a stony face to the world. But deep within, the prince sits alone, lost, afraid. For not only can anyone get in, he can never get out….

This is my SOS. Save me from the prison I have built. Ask me questions. Don’t let me dodge them. Don’t let me make fun of them. Don’t let me ramble on. Look me in the eyes. Make me look at you back. For 20 years, I have been blinded by arrogance. Open my eyes for me. Make me uncomfortable. Knock me down – physically, if need be. Drive into me that I am not better than you. I need to be reminded, however painfully, of that.

“Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends. We’re so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside”.

Yes, I know it’s on your blog, L, but it’s fitting for me right now, and besides, you didn’t think of it first. Emerson, Lake and Palmer did. I’m not stealing from you, I’m stealing from them. Got back to Olin yesterday after getting up ridiculously early. Proceeded to go to my meeting, unpack, fall asleep around 10, and – you guessed it – get up ridiculously early today. I’m now a good 3+ hours off of the standard Olin Student schedule. Sigh.

One of the things about being metablogged into Planet Olin I’ve noticed is that I’ve become slightly less willing to just post randomness/craziness and things other people might take offence to. I also feel like I have to state where I’m coming from a little more, as well as be more concise. I’m not trying to judge other peoples blogging habits, but I’ve never really been a fan of the “livejournal” way of posting (one line, usually something like “how could you do this to me??” current mood: depressed) if, for no other reason, because you’re left in the dark about pretty much everything. Who. What. Why. Essentially, every person that came into contact with the LJ blogger that day, week, month, or eon is at risk. More information, please! And another thing: minor spelling mistakes and awkward punctuation are a little annoying, true, but not the end of the world. I know I have some mistakes here, so I can’t have a double standard.

In the end though, I’m glad we have OP. It’s a pretty good at-a-glance tool, provided people keep blogging.

Every time I come home, it feels like I have to turn around and leave again. Which is, partly, true. I’m in for two weeks usually, a month at the longest, and then I fly back. Usually on an early AM flight, getting into Boston on my 6th cup of coffee when most people are still on their first. Do I want to go back? Without question. Olin is where I’m happiest and most productive.

But, sometimes, I just want to stay here. There’s so much here that needs my attention. So much I just don’t get done while I’m here. I wish I could come home more during the semester, but it’s just not possible, being thirteen states away and all.

I guess coming home this time was worse, for reasons I won’t go into here. And even though it’s something that doesn’t effect me in the short term, I feel helpless about it.

“So much time, so little to do. Strike that. Reverse it.”

Not sure if I’ll have a chance to check this out before I head back to Olin next Tuesday, but the amount of free publicity the Museum of Science and Industry received over this exhibition is amazing.

Essentially, the state anatomical board wanted control over these bodies since they were being used for educational display. MOSI and the exhibitor felt that since it wasn’t a medical display, (i.e. for med schools) the Anatomical Board couldn’t exert control. As is the great Florida style, a legal battle erupted, between the Attorney General of the State and the Anatomical Board versus the Museum and the exhibitor. In the end, MOSI played the “If we open before you have a chance to say anything about it, you can’t close us” card, and the exhibition opened two days early. And, of course, because people either thought the exhibition would close prematurely, or just the ridiculous number of times it was mentioned in the newspaper, people came out in force.

Ah well, even if I don’t see it now, there’s always Christmas.

CNN Link

With Bodhi Day right around the corner, there’s no better way to show you care than to buy something off this list of DVDs.

Shaun of the Dead The Third Man Anchorman Old School Batman Begins (when it comes out) The Rock The Royal Tennenbaums Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

The list will grow. And if you see one of these for cheap, get it, and I’ll pay you back. Or return it secretly behind your back. Either/or.

I went to my local Blockbuster Video yesterday to rent a couple of movies. Certainly seems like they renovated the store, and when I went to pay, I realized where the money for the renovation had come from.

“$9.19 please.”

$9.19! For two movies? Part of the absurdity is the Florida state sales tax (6%) and my counties tax on top of that (another 1%). But still, the vast majority of the increase in rental fees to $4.29. That’s ridiculous. Netflix charges $17.99 a month for 3-at-a-time rentals. If, say, I want to watch four movies in a month or more, I’m better off going with Netflix.

But here’s the problem with Netflix or Blockbuster Online: If I want a movie, say, right now, I’m pretty much screwed. I either eat the $4.29 (which is, yes, still cheaper than the movie theater) or I ship back a movie today, wait 1-2 days for processing, and then wait another day for them to ship it out to me. We’re talking 4-5 days minimum there. (Blockbuster Online does allow for free rentals from Blockbuster brick stores, but only two a month. Use them wisely, I say.)

I guess $4.29 isn’t terrible for a movie rental. I suppose it’s on par with Pay Per View rentals. But, looking deeper, I rented one semi-new-release (Shaun of the Dead) and one older movie (To Kill a Mockingbird). They were both $4.29. I remember when Blockbuster Classics (a low-cost pricing scheme for older movies) were a $1.99 each. Sigh. I guess because they were both on DVD, Blockbuster Classics don’t apply. Then again, the whole freakin’ store is DVD, so I guess Blockbuster Classics is a thing of the past.

Still the fact that I used to get five movies for $20 and now only get four does tick me off. Paying outrageous prices to fuel a brand name and/or company motif is absurd.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to Starbucks and get a venti.

I’m in Florida from now until the 30th. It’s really only a pseudo-break for me, as I’ll be working on the library website from home. I’m also trying to:

• Read 5 Books. At least. Right now, the list is Cryptonomicon, Harry Potter 6, Number9Dream, Catch-22, and Huckleberry Finn. I’ve made my way on the first one so far, but I’m not entirely sure I’ll finish. More on this tomorrow.

• Do something really cool with an old computer and television. I need to do more research on this too.

• Create a bio page on the site. Like, more information than you’d ever possibly need to know.

But, right now, and really, the overarching theme for the “break” is relax, enjoy myself, and sleep. I also need to plan out my semester very well.

That said, if you need me for anything, I’ll be around.

Operator, oh could you help me place this call You see the number on the matchbook is old and faded She’s livin’ in L.A. With my best old ex-friend Ray A guy she said she knew well and sometimes hated

Chorus: Isn’t that the way they say it goes But let’s forget all that And give me the number if you can find it So I can call just to tell them I’m fine and to show I’ve overcome the blow I’ve learned to take it well I only wish my words could just convince myself But that’s not the way it feels

Operator, oh could you help me place this call ’cause I can’t read the number that you just gave me There’s something in my eyes You know it happens every time I think about the love that I thought would save me

Chorus

Operator, oh let’s forget about this call There’s no one there I really wanted to talk to Thank you for your time Oh you’ve been so much more than kind And you can keep the dime

Chorus -Jim Croce

Sometimes, I wonder about the people I went to high school. The ever present indicator of people I talk to regularly, the buddy list numer, has dwindled from over 20 to just 2. And both of those will probably be deleted the next time I purge the list.

So, what happened? It’s a combination of things. For the most part, I hated the people high school: the faux niceness that people presented to get a look at my AP US History, the emphasis on attacking other people’s faults, the immaturity the vast majority of my class showed. I just wasn’t one of those people who liked drinking, who liked partying, who liked street racing. So sue me.

But it’s not like those thigns isolated me from people in high school. I had a fair number of friends, or at the very least, people I talked to regularly. But most of these relationships centered around school, and once we went to our seperate colleges, that was that.

I think that’s another big factor: I’m so far away from the nearest high school alumnus. Something like 95% of CAT students end up going to Florida schools. I don’t blame them: I’m the first to say that if I didn’t get into Olin, I would have joined them at UF. Scheduling becomes tough. I think there’s a total of three days over lap when I go home at the end of the week.

Some nights, I want to reach out, I want to say to some of them “Remember me? We used to talk, we used to be close.” But I never do. For one, I’m betting it would be awkward as hell for both of us, and I’m sure it wouldn’t really last, like putting down a rope bridge over the Grand Canyon. And really, I think the energy required to try and make a connection far outweighs the benefits derived from that connection. What will I gain from re-connecting with my high school friends? A list of parties I missed out on? A fresh batch of inside jokes I won’t understand? Stories about people I can no longer put a face to?

So, it’s come to this. 2 years removed from CAT, and I talk to no one. It’s really not a big deal: I love the friends I’ve made at Olin. Not having friends at home makes going home tough, but not impossible.

But, occasionally, when a song like Operator comes up in random mode in iTunes, I get just the smallest of lumps in my throat.

Wow, I’ve been grumbling to myself for the past, oh, 16 hours about how crappy my internet connection had become….. blaming the school, the ISP, the planets, the Russians, anything, really. And it turns out it’s all my fault.

Apparently, network cables can go bad. Who knew?