Cream O' Weber Eggnog is the best kind, by far. Way better than Meadow Gold.
Happy 199th, Joseph Smith Jr.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Wow, finals are over now. Sure, I hate staying up late to study, trying to catch up learning things I should have been learning all semester, and figuring out how I am going to take two finals that are being held at the same time. But by far the worst thing about finals is answering that incessant question: "So how are finals going?" Okay, first of all, even if I have taken my finals already, I don't know how they're going because they won't tell me until boxing day. Secondly, if they're really stressful (which they always are), then I DON'T WANT TO BLOODY TALK ABOUT THEM, ALRIGHT? Is that reasonable? I think spending most of the week evenly divided among worrying about them, studying for them, and doing them is bad enough. I don't want to spend the remaining 25% percent of those five days and nights telling you about them. Ask me about work, dating, the latest version of "Survivor", or anything else I normally don't like discussing. But please, let's stay off finals. And especially don't ask me which ones I have left, and especially if I HAVE ALREADY TOLD YOU MY ENTIRE FINALS SCHEDULE FIVE TIMES THIS WEEK, TWO OF WHICH WERE TODAY. Okay that last part was just for my parents. And okay, fair enough, there are occaisional awkward pauses in conversations that prompt someone to blurt out something foolish like: "How are finals going?" or "Did you see Survivor last night?". And often the person asking the question is doing it to relieve what they may percieve as discomfort or boredem on my part. Let me just tell you, I am probably neither bored nor uncomfortable. I always look like that. I appreciate the concern, and forgive you, but now you know better.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
You know how some nights you get really introspective and you feel really something. You can't tell if its good or bad or if you feel like you've just gained a huge insight or if you've just realized that you don't know anything. You feel sort of like God is right there with you and also sort of like you're completely alone. Then cue the windchimes and and violins; the camera zooms out and there's this awesome shot of you standing in the street lamp's glow and staring at a slight upward incline. Then the music intensifies and the credits roll. Wait scratch that last part. Crap I was doing so well until the windchimes thing. Anyway where I was going with all of this is that I have noticed that it almost never happens on nights that are not breezy.