Happy Halloween!!!


Nice knowin' y'all

I think I'm dying. This must be what that damned bird flu feels like. To quote Master Yoda, "Like shit, I feel."

I dunno what the hell happened between typing up that post about the party and my getting upstairs, but it wasn't good. I was up most of the night (the dog's incessant whining certainly didn't help with that), tossing and turning. I eventually made myself throw up at around four, four-thirty, and I felt a little better after that, but still couldn't sleep for shit.

I just ache. Everywhere. I can't imagine how bad I'd feel if I'd have had more than just the two beers last night. I took some Tylenol this morning, which helped a little, too, if by "help" you picture one shaking and sweating through one's clothes.

We were supposed to do my birthday dinner tonight, but we've postponed til next week. I don't really feel like eating, anyway, and I don't want the kids around me right now.

Supposed to have cake tonight, too. I told my father, over the summer, maybe when the new movie was in theatres, I said I wanted a "Batman" cake. Haven't had a theme cake like that since I was probably in middle school. I was lookin' forward to seeing that. I'll have to get a picture. I hope it's the Bat-symbol from the new movie.

And that's all I know. Kind of a boring day for football. Michael J. Fox is the guest tonight on Inside the Actor's Studio, so that should be good. I think I'm gonna go lie down now.

Pray for me.

Fuckin' bird flu...

Party's over

Pictures from the Halloween party are here.

It was a good time. Saw some folks I hadn't seen in a while, but I wasn't feeling too great most of the night. Only drank a couple of beers. Just been kind of "eh" most of the day, really.

And now I'm gettin' ready to head off to bed, with visions of Evil Dead stuck in my head.


Funny stuff

Here's a wonderful example of the incestuous nature of Hollywood that I mentioned last week:

Tonight's episode of Smallville was written by Steven DeKnight, who used to write for both Buffy and Angel. The "monster-of-the-week" was a sorority of vampires. Their leader's name: "Buffy Sanders."

Also, James Marsters, formerly known as "Spike" on both Buffy and Angel, joined the cast this season, which more than likely prompted one of the producers to say, "hey, let's do a show with vampires," thus giving Marsters the giggle-inducing line, "Clark, there's no such thing as vampires."

Well, I find it funny.

Something I can never have

All I wanted for my birthday was the Cardinals winning the World Series, but since they decided to play like crap in the NLCS, it just wasn't meant to be. (Congrats to the White Sox, BTW.)

And so, with the World Series hopes dashed, it's certainly a good thing that I still have my Amazon.com wish list, filled to the brim with books and movies and CDs that I wouldn't mind owning.

It's good to have goals in life, no?


All Hallow's Eve draws near

(Stolen from Chynna, with my thanks.)


Got an 84 on my algebra test from last week, instead of the low-70-something I was expecting. I must be smarter than I give myself credit for. And this new chapter seems pretty straightforward and easy so far.

Radical expressions, watch out!

Hopefully Wednesday's geography test goes as well.


Good times

Got home about 3:30 this morning, from Mick and Kris's party. It was fun, hanging out with old friends, meeting newish ones, and I mangaged to stay sober, unlike some people, who shall remain nameless. (By the way, Nameless, you forgot the book, though I guess I should simply be happy you were able to walk out of the house under your own power.)

I had almost forgotten how much fun drunk people can be when you're not one of them. This revelation probably won't carry over to Becky's party on the 29th, but hey, that'll probably be the only night I'll be able to "celebrate" my birthday without having something to do the following day.

Headin' out to breakfast in a few minutes, then football. The 3-2 Steelers have a HUGE game at 5-1 Cinncinnati. The Bengals haven't been this good since they were getting the crap beat out of them by the 49ers in the Super Bowl. Hopefully Big Ben's knee will hold up, and the offensive line opens some decent holes for Fast Willie and the Bus, otherwise it could be a looooong afternoon.

Oh, and note to self: my 4.5-year-old nephew may still be a wee bit too young for vampires and Dracula, however re-animated they may be.

(Get it? Dracula, re-animated? As in comes back to life?


Oh, what do you know, you bunch of putzes...)


Party! Party! Party!

Sticking this back at the top as a reminder, and to show those out-of-towners what they'll be missing:

Halloween party @ Becky's on Saturday, October 29th. Starts at "8ish." BYOB.

Any questions, get a hold of her. Or me, I guess, since I'm posting this here.


And Mick & Kris are having a party on Saturday, the 22nd, at 9. Also BYOB, as Mick and Kris are as poor as the rest of us.


A History of Violence

That was a great movie.

A lesson learned

This evening, I learned that the St. Louis Cardinals can lose just as well when I'm not watching as they can when I am watching.

Disgusted as I am by their pathetic postseason performance, I am actually grateful that I no longer have to give them, or baseball in general, any thought until Spring Training next year.

Which leads me to the following thought (you'll like this one, poni): what is the point of professional sports and why do we care so much?

Hundreds of grown men (and sometimes not-so-grown-men) getting paid hundreds of millions of dollars to play games? This is worth our time? Our support? Our money? What drives us to attach ourselves so vehemently to a specific team? What makes it so ingrained in our society? Why is it so damned important? Surely there are other, more worthwhile, less stress-inducing, less expensive, hobbies we can enjoy.

Aren't there?

Is it for the camaraderie? I suppose it's nice to see someone else wearing a hat or shirt adorned with the logo of your favorite team. It makes you feel like you're a member of a special club, that you belong to something greater than yourself...which is a reason people are so into religion, too, isn't it?

But I digress.

I've actually been thinking about this for a while, how truly silly sports are. The amount of money spent on sports, from buying a team, to player salaries, to building a ballpark, from the purchase of jerseys and DirecTV's Sunday Ticket, not to mention all the gambling...just imagine how many billions of dollars we throw at these diversions. Think of all the good that could be accomplished if all that money were used for something productive, if people could actually be altruistic for a change, instead of caring only about themselves.

And this isn't limited merely to the sports world. Is Brad Pitt really worth however many millions he gets to be in a crappy Hollywood movie (or even a more rare not-so-crappy one)? Tom Hanks? Halle Berry (certainly not after Catwoman)? Imagine getting paid twenty million dollars just for being you. That's a two with seven zeroes behind it: $20,000,000.

I'm not saying these people, these athletes and actors aren't talented, that they don't have a particular skill unique unto them, or that that skill isn't worth something. It's just that, you know, when cops and fire fighters and teachers and war veterans, people who contribute to our safety and our future, when they're barely able to get by, how can we, in good conscience, blithly throw away these millions of dollars on people who merely have nice smiles or can throw footballs sixty yards downfield with accuracy?

Escapism is important. I get that. But we're not going to be able to hide our heads in the sand forever. Sooner or later, we're going to have to take a long, hard look at ourselves and decide if watching large men hit little white balls with big pieces of wood is really worth what we're currently paying.


Television sucks!

In the past, it has been widely thought (by me) that television programs are crap, a poor man's retarded stepchild, lowlier than even the dumbest of films, filled with cliched characters, hackneyed dialogue, and idiotic sitcoms (the phrase "idiot box" comes from somewhere, people).

I haven't regularly watched many, if any, television shows in years. They simply weren't worth the time or effort. Either I had class or I was working, or the shows just plain sucked, and remembering to set the VCR week in and week out, feh.

But lately (this season), I've found myself getting drawn into more and more programs, most of which seem to have one of three unifying elements. I mentioned this to my friend Ryan a week or two ago, and it's not entirely clear in my head yet, and I'm not going to type out a list, but I want to get it written down before my mind wanders onto something more important.

Thanks to the magic that is the internets, I have been watching a greater number of weekly shows this season than ever before (at least, since I was a wee young'in when I had nothing else to do). Downloading last night's episode of My Name is Earl, for example, is great. I can start the download, leave for class, and when I get back, it'll be nearly finished. And once the episode is downloaded, I can watch it whenever I want. It's like TiVo, only, you know, free.

To say that I'm a bit of a creator geek would be an understatement. I don't necessarily care what a show (or a movie, or a comic book, or a novel) is about, only who wrote it/produced it/directed it/etc. I follow certain creative minds because I've liked their work in the past, and I know that what I'll be watching/reading will be of a certain level of quality, something that will appeal to me on an aesthetic level. Basically, I knows what I likes.

And, quite conincidentally, or perhaps not, the majority of shows that I like, that I make an effort to watch, either on the actual TV or on my computer, are created by a relatively small group of people with similar backgrounds. A lot of them seem to have started out in Hollywood working on one of three shows, either producing or writing: Star Trek: The Next Generation, The X-Files, and Buffy: The Vampire Slayer (or Angel, which I sort of lump in there with Buffy).

These are all genre (sci-fi/fantasy/horror) shows, which truly illuminates how big of a geek I am, but there is a certain pedigree that is associated with these shows that has carried over into quite a few relatively recent hits. You can trace the family trees of each one of these shows (which I cursorily did via the ever-wonderful IMDb), of the staff writers and key producers, and you will begin to notice a pattern. (Or, least, I did, because these are the types of things I think about.)

Creators from those three shows have gone on to make some of the best shows on television, even if some of them didn't last very long. What follows is but a very brief listing of some of the shows I've enjoyed (and some I, to be honest, have never seen, but others seem to enjoy) and their connections to the Big Three (for lack of a better term):

Firefly, from, obviously, Joss Whedon, but a lesser-known name was also responsible for this gem. Tim Minear, who joined Whedon as a producer on Angel is listed as a co-creator of Firefly. Since that show's cancellation, he went on to create Wonderfalls and The Inside, both for Fox, who promptly gave both shows the Firefly treatment (crappy time slots and not promoting them worth a damn, which equals cancellation around episode ten, if not sooner). Minear was also a story editor during the fifth season of The X-Files, which I'll get to in a moment.

Other alumi of Whedon's shows include David Fury, who worked on both Buffy and Angel before moving on to Minear's The Inside, Lost and, most recently, 24; Marti Noxon, who created Point Pleasant (also scrapped after about six episodes) and now consults on Prison Break; Howard Gordon, executive producer of 24 and co-creator of The Inside (Gordon was also a writer for three seasons of The X-Files); Jane Espenson, who was a producer on both Tru Calling and The Inside; Steven DeKnight, who was a writer on Buffy before becoming a producer of Angel and then Smallville, and on and on and on. I could do this all day.

Suffice it to say that this industry is quite incestuous.

Looking at The X-Files, while creator Chris Carter hasn't done much lately, a few of his protege's have been busy. The aforementioned Minear and Gordon, as well as John Shiban, whose new show, Supernatural, recently got picked up for a full season by the WB.

Going back to the earliest show on my list, Star Trek: The Next Generation, the most well-known of the bunch would probably be Rob Bowman, who became a key player on The X-Files, and has since mostly done films (Elektra, anyone?), and Ron Moore, who was instrumental in getting the new Battlestar Galactica on the air.

Various other writers from these main three shows have gone on to write for The O.C. as well as newer shows like Threshold and the reboot of Nightstalker.

Why am I babbling about all this? Hell if I know. I just noticed, and found interesting, that a great majority of shows I watch can be traced back to one or two of my favorite programs from years past. Of course, there are other shows which don't fit any of this criteria, such as Grey's Anatomy (best hospital show since the early years of er), My Name is Earl (c'mon, it's Jason Lee!), Bones (still not sure about this one, but David Boreanaz makes me laugh), Numb3rs (Ridley and Tony Scott), and, of course, The Simpsons, and Family Guy and American Dad (both Seth Macfarlane).

Oh, and House, which is from Bryan Singer, and is also executive produced by Paul Attanasio, who created my number one favorite show ever, Homicide: Life on the Street.

Anyway, these are the shows that are able to hold my attention these days. Thank god for BitTorrent, because if I had to actually watch all this stuff when the networks wanted me to, well, it just wouldn't happen. I'd be lucky enough to catch one or two of the shows I really wanted to watch. The rest would just fall by the wayside.

Like I said, Hollywood is quite the incestuous town, and I wouldn't be surprised if, four or five years down the line, I was paying attention to a new crop of shows whose creators can trace themselves back to Grey's Anatomy or Supernatural. Not to mention poor Tim Minear, and whatever show he's working on at the time that will get cancelled by episode six.

So...what crappy TV shows are you watching right now?


A mind is a terrible thing to...something...

It appears that I am closer to getting that scrap of paper from UNO than I had initially thought. A few classes that I believed I needed are, I learned this morning, unnecessary. Rather than needing another nine general studies classes, I actually require only five. Instead of starting on my major next fall, I'll be getting underway this spring.

It feels good to have a game plan, so to speak, to be able to look at the list of classes I've taken and those I've yet to take and to be able to see a finish line in the not-so-distant future. Rather than being three years from graduating, perhaps I'm merely two or two and a half, both of which are, by far, closer than where I was at this time last year (which was, if memory serves, about a week and a half away from quitting the shitty video store job I had and driving north to spend my birthday in San Francisco).

I don't want to say it's a relief to know that I'm farther along than I originally anticipated, because I don't want to count my pre-hatched chickens. I still have to actually take the classes, and pass them, if you can believe that. But, yeah, I feel a lot better about where I'm at now, academically-speaking, than I did yesterday.

Perhaps this isn't so impossible after all.

Full Moon Shot

Bottom of the ninth, down 4-2, two out, men on first and second, the season on the line. Win or go home.

Albert Pujols launches a season-preserving a three-run rainbow that nearly leaves the ballpark in the Cardinals 5-4 win in Houston Monday night.

Thank god for full moons.

I'm going to have a heart attack before this postseason is over, I just know it.

Game 6, Wednesday, in St. Louis. Roy Oswalt against Mark Mulder.


Buncha lollygaggers

You play like this, you don't deserve to win.



Postseason Blues

You know how not to win in the playoffs? You play with a lousy bullpen and you don't hit for shit.

Example: see St. Louis Cardinals.

When your most feared hitter is Reggie Sanders (and absolutely no offense to Reggie; he was incredible those first four postseason games), not the forty-plus homer, more-than-one-hundred-RBI-in-each-of-his-first-five-seasons stud (Albert Pujols), then you have what is called "hitting woes."

When your best lefty out of the bullpen gets injured immediately before the playoffs start, which throws your entire bullpen out of whack, this is called "pitching woes."

This is a St. Louis team that beat Houston eleven out of sixteen times during the regular season. There are no excuses named Pettitte, Oswalt, or Clemens (though maybe one named Lidge). This team has owned Houston over the past few seasons. To play like this, to choke it away...well, it's no way to excise last October's demons, is it?

Game 4 at three on Fox. Jeff Suppan against Brandon Backe. If St. Louis can't win this game, then I guess, this season, it just isn't in the cards.


Quote of the Day (#1)

"He [the president] should be supported or opposed exactly to the degree which is warranted by his good conduct or bad conduct, his efficiency or inefficiency in rendering loyal, able and disinterested service to the nation as a whole.

"Therefore it is absolutely necessary that there should be full liberty to tell the truth about his acts, and this means that it is exactly necessary to blame him when he does wrong as to praise him when he does right. Any other attitude in an American citizen is both base and servile.

"To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public. Nothing but the truth should be spoken about him or anyone else. But it is even more important to tell the truth, pleasant or unpleasant, about him than about any one else."

-Teddy Roosevelt, 1918

(From the Monkey)


Minor update

The Cardinals won Game 1 behind the awesome pitching of Chris Carpenter and the incredible bat of Reggie Sanders, who became the first player to have multiple RBI in four consecutive postseason games. He's got twelve in four games. Pretty impressive.

And the Angels might have gotten hosed in their game against the White Sox, but they have three straight games in Anaheim in which to take care of Chicago, so they can't complain too much.

Oh, and I'm fasting. Don't ask me why. I've no idea. Maybe it's Jewish Guilt. I blame my mother.


NLCS Game 1

Oh, and I nearly forgot:

Let's Go Cards!

Sins? What sins?

So Yom Kippur starts tonight at sundown, the Jewish Day of Atonement, wherein Jews fast for twenty-four hours, thus wiping the sin-slate clean for the coming year (and believe me, do I have sins to repent for this past year). (There's other stuff involved as well, going to synagogue, praying, stuff like that, but essentially, for the sake of my rambling, you fast, you're golden.)

Now, this always poses a bit of a, well, not a problem, exactly, but a conundrum. See, I don't really believe in a god. Or the God. Or anything like that. Never have, really. Once I was old enough to think and reason for myself, I discovered a lot of holes in this whole God thing that made me question His existance, which led to my decision that He doesn't exist and never did.

Religion began (and when I say "religion," I'm referring mainly to the Judeo-Christian versions), I believe, as a way for the priests to control the population. They had no real laws, way back in the day, and the only way to get people to, say, not kill each other, was to invent this all-powerful being who looks down from the heavens, knows when you're being bad or good, and decides to send you to Heaven or Hell based on your actions.

But I digress. This isn't supposed to be a screed against religion. People can believe whatever they want to believe, it's none of my business, just don't come to my door asking if I've found Jesus, okay?

Getting back to my original point, my conundrum...I haven't gone to services at the synagogue for years. Once I had my Bar Mitzvah when I turned thirteen, that was it. I can probably count on two hands the number of times I've attended services since then. I just don't see the point of it, except as, perhaps, a social gathering. But as far as sitting with a couple hundred other people and worshipping some god I don't believe in, no thanks. Not for me.

And yet, every year when the High Holidays roll around, I find myself, if not going, then at least contemplating going to the synagogue. These are the two most important days on the Jewish calender, the holiest of holy days, but, again, don't believe in God, his holy days don't mean much to me. But on Yom Kippur, I fast.

I don't think a year has gone by where I haven't fasted on Yom Kippur, and, recently, I find myself wondering why. Am I trying to hedge my bets? I don't believe in God, but just in case He's there, I better repent my sins? Do I feel that if I don't at least participate in some Jewish traditions, then I'm somehow less of a Jew?

See, Judaism for me has always been two seperate things, a religion and a culture. The religion, as I've said, I can do without, but the culture, the history, the heritage of my people, that I've always embraced. I'm proud to be Jewish. I'm honored to be associated with a group of people who have endured so much hardship over thousands of years and still stands strong and defiant.

Not to mention, we have the best comedians.

I have tattoos, which are forbidden by Jewish law, yet one of them is of a Jewish Star, so am I less Jewish, a bad Jew, for wanting to wear my heritage on my sleeve (or back, as the case may be)? According to the Orthodoxy, I can't be buried in a Jewish cemetary now, but so many of my generation have tattoos. Some of whom devoutly practice the religion. Each and every Holocaust survivor is tattooed, branded with those disgusting numbers. Are they lesser Jews?

Anyway, back to my question: why do I feel the need to fast on Yom Kippur if I don't even believe in God and His Book of Judgement? I don't honestly know.

I'm sitting here contemplating, along with the fasting, actually going to services tomorrow, but why? Is it like a addict's habit that's really tough to break? For half my life I'd gone to synagogue and done the rituals and traditions, and they've become so ingrained in me that I can't shake them fully? I'd say that I'm having a crisis of faith, but I don't have a faith (which, I'm sure, some people would say is part of the problem).

Anyway, sun's almost down. Happy Day of Atonement.

And remember, He knows when you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.


Spontaneous Rant Of The Day (#1)

I keep hearing about how the Democrats need a single, strong message and to stick with it, like the Republicans have been doing for the past ten years. To just focus on one core message and hammer it home until people swallow it as the partisan dogma bullshit that it is. There's just one problem with this method, and it's, I believe, a key difference between the Left and the Right.

Democrats and liberals aren't sheep.

We are allowed to think for ourselves. We are allowed to have our own views on issues and don't need to fall into lockstep with partisan party leadership. We can have more than one concern at a time.

I'm tired of hearing about how we need to dumb ourselves down to convey our ideals and ideas to the masses. Americans are not stupid (most of them, anyway), and I firmly believe they have the capability to understand and comprehend more than one issue at a time, to grasp the importance of both, let's say, the dangers of global warming and our idiotic reliance on foreign oil. Or supposed terrorist threats and why everyone should receive national heathcare coverage. Or the fact that the war in Iraq and the so-called "war on terror" are two vastly different, unconnected things.

The ability to think and to reason used to be part of what separated Man from other animals. Now, it seems, it's also what separates progressive, forward-thinking liberals from conservatives who'd rather we were living in the 19th century instead of the 21st.

To steal a quote from my favorite monkey, "Everybody who wants to live in the 21st Century over here. Everybody who wants to live in the 1800's over there. Good. Thanks. Good luck with that."

To do things the way the Republicans have been doing things means widespread corruption and cronyism running rampant through our elective offices. It means having people in charge of very important departments who are extremely unqualified, thus putting us in more danger instead of keeping us safer. It means having the integrity of a wet paper bag.

It means caring more about money and power than about people.

I don't know about you, but those aren't exactly (to steal the favorite conservative buzzwords) the morals and ethics I grew up with.


Who said Mondays are terrible?

The Yankees lost to the Angels and are out of the playoffs. (Smiles)

The Steelers drove down the field with a minute and a half left and kicked a field goal to beat the Chargers, 24-22. (Bigger smile)

However, Ben Roethlisberger (didn't even have to look up how to spell it), the Steelers QB, got hit in the knee towards the very end of the game. It didn't look very good. Knees aren't supposed to bend that way. They'll know more after an MRI later today. (Grimaces)

Oh, and the Penguins have somehow managed to lose three straight OT games, which isn't as bad as it sounds, because, somehow, they're still only one point behind New Jersey for top spot in the division. Still, a notch in the Win column one of these days would be nice. (Cautious optimism)

But hey, did I mention that the Yankees lost? Can you imagine that? The rest of the postseason without having to hear anything about the Yankees or Red Sox, though I'm sure they'll manage to mention one or both of the teams at least once during every, single ALCS and World Series game. But that's why god invented the mute button, because of broadcasters like Tim McCarver.

Had my second algebra test last night. I think I did pretty well. Only two problems really made me think about them, which either means I was smart enough to know how to do the other problems, or I was dumb enough to think I knew how to do them. I'll find out Wednesday.

That's all I got for yesterday. Not much else happened. Got some geography labs to work on today, for the quiz tomorrow. I guess I'll get right on that.

Oh, and how 'bout them Yankees?


How much of a geek...oh, I mean...

...which Fantasy/Sci-Fi character are you?

Which Fantasy/SciFi Character Are You?

An honest and chivalrous adventurer that pursues just causes, you would sacrifice much to help others.

Marcus Cole: I am a Ranger. We walk in the dark places no others will enter. We stand on the bridge and no-one may pass. We live for the One, we die for the One.



The sweep is complete!

Who's got next?


After today's insane eighteen inning, six hour long game between the Braves and Astros finally ended, it seems that the Cards will play host to Houston starting...Tuesday, I believe.

Tough, tough loss for Atlanta. I can't imagine playing that long, with your entire season on the line, after blowing a five-run lead in the eighth, and giving up a solo shot that sends you to the golf course for the rest of the winter.


Beware the were-rabbit!

Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit is a very silly movie. Cute, and funny, and also quite silly. It's British, you know.

My nephew also seemed to enjoy it, and my father got some good laughs out of it, so I'd say that's six thumbs up between the three of us. Yes indeed, a jolly good show.


myTunes (y'know, instead of iTunes...nevermind)

Lately I've only been listening to these three CDs as I drive to and from class (because that's about the only place I go these days). They are so good, and so fun, and I don't have anything else that can really hold a candle to these albums right now.

The first is the major label debut album of DJ Z-Trip, Shifting Gears, which has a bunch of different sounds from a bunch of different MCs. My favorite is a track called "Breakfast Club," by Murs and Supernatural, in which they rap about all the kickass old-school cartoons of my generation's youth. GI Joe, Transformers, He-Man, the Ninja Turtles, Jem, Josie and the Pussycats, man, they hit on all of 'em. It's pretty hilarious. Good beats, good lyrics, very good album.

The other two albums are by Murs and Slug, Felt - A Tribute to Christina Ricci and Felt, Vol. 2: A Tribute to Lisa Bonet. More straight-up rap than what's on Z-Trip's album, but there's some nice hip-hop tracks, too, and they aren't talkin' about bitches and hos throughout the whole album, or putting caps in people's asses. They're really pretty mellow CDs, with a nice groove to 'em. Very relaxing.

Why they're tributes to Ricci and Bonet, I'm still trying to figure out. But they're good, and that's all I care about. This guy I know, a comic book artist out in L.A., Jim Mahfood, he's the one who turned me onto these albums. He did this companion comic book for the second Felt CD, which is very cool, and a lot easier to understand now that I finally got my hands on the disc. Jim's got a pretty good ear for this stuff, and he's been listening to hip-hop for a lot longer than I have, so I definitely trust his judgement when it comes to what's good.

Anyway, yeah, I haven't really been listening to much else lately. Sometimes you just find some good stuff that you want to chill with for a while. Anyone have any suggestions for what else to be listening to? What's spinnin' in your players these days?

Cheap tunes

I have a couple stacks of CDs (about yea high) I'm looking to get rid of. Buck each, or free, whatever. Just don't want 'em anymore. I suppose I might want to list which CDs I'm talkin' about, but they're all the way over there, and I'm not lookin' to get up right now. Lemme know if you're interested and I'll tell ya what I got.


You know what I think?

I think it should be illegal for corporations to give money to politicians, ie, to buy politicians. I think that might help do away with some of the corruption issues. Not all of them, mind you (see Bill Frist), but some.


Play ball! (Postseason style)

Nevermind that the Cardinals won yesterday's opening game of their NLDS series against the San Diego Padres. Forget that they jumped out to a quick 4-0 lead, which Reggie Sanders doubled with a grand slam in the fifth inning. Regardless of the fact that Chris Carpenter pitched six brilliant innings and shut down the opposing hitters, the true achilles heel of this St. Louis team became quite evident after Carpenter's exit.

Comfortably leading 8-0, the Cardinals bullpen promptly gave up a run in the seventh, a run in the eighth, and three runs in the ninth, before closer Jason Isringhausen got the final two outs, preserving a shouldn't-have-been-so-close 8-5 victory.

I know, I know, they won and that's all that matters, but that bullpen still worries me. One of the best in the league all season long, but they lose Al Reyes right before the playoffs start, and they just kind of fell apart. I'm just hoping that Mark Mulder can go eight innings in tomorrow's game, leaving less chance for a bullpen meltdown.

In other news, the hated Yankees beat the Angels in Anaheim, which doesn't bode well for the Angels. They had their best pitcher going, Cy Young candidate Bartolo Colon, and he gave up four runs, which was just enough for Mike Mussina and the Yankee bullpen.

And in the Battle of the Soxes, Chicago beat the everloving crap out of Boston, and all the blame can't be heaped onto Matt Clement (Boston's starter)'s shoulders. Sure, he gave up eight runs in less than four innings, but the Red Sox bullpen gave up six runs the rest of the game, while the White Sox pitchers gave up a mere two. Methinks the Red Sox blew their wad last year. The deal with the devil is coming due. I wouldn't be surprised if they got swept out of the playoffs.

The other National League series just got underway today. Houston at Atlanta. This could be an interesting one. The Astros have great starting pitching and an awesome closer, but they have difficulty in scoring many runs. Conversely, Atlanta has no problem with scoring, but their starting pitching consists of just two proven big game bulldogs, Tim Hudson and John Smoltz, and their bullpen has been pretty shaky all year long. The Braves need to get to Houston's middle relief and do some damage before Brad Lidge comes out of the 'pen, otherwise I'm not sure their own bullpen can keep a game close or hold a small lead.

Should be an interesting postseason. If I had to choose right now, I'd go with the St. Louis Cardinals (yes, I'm biased. What of it?) and the Chicago White Sox (or New York Yankees - hard to argue against that offense) to represent the NL and AL, respectively, in the World Series.


Happy Jew Year!

At least, you know, when the sun goes down.


October already? ::UPDATE::

The cute brunette was working up at the Fox and Hound again today, sans glasses. Still cute. Unbelievably cute. I would have much rather sat and looked at/talked to her this afternoon, instead of watching football.

Of course, I said nothing, but for what I feel is a pretty decent reason/excuse. She's working, y'know? And I don't think it's entirely proper to ask hostesses (or anyone, for that matter) out while they're working.

Not to mention the fact that I'd ask her out, she'd say "no," and from then on, whenever I went to the bar, I'd awkwardly walk past her on my way to my table.

Plus she's probably seeing someone, what with the cuteness and all.


You know what? I think way too much about this stuff.

Okay, back to algebra homework. Hooray factoring!


October already?

Is it just me or has time seemed to fly by these past few months? It seems like it was only yesterday that I returned to Omaha from California, leaving a plethora of ruined relationships in my wake, but, in truth, it has been nearly seven months.

It is October. Officially Autumn. The leaves on the trees have begun to turn, their bright, vibrant greens slowly succumbing to the season, becoming dark, brittle yellows and browns. They will all too soon fall to earth, dead, to be buried under the pure white of winter.

My birthday is nearly upon me, which always raises a bit of melancholy to the surface. I'm reminded, with each passing year, of how far I've come, and of how far I've fallen. I foolishly look back at what I've done with my life since graduating from high school, knowing that I cannot change the past, but like a deer in headlights, I can't turn away. It's like driving past an accident on the highway: You slow down and look, hoping to see...what? Blood? A body? You're aware that it could be a very gruesome scene indeed, but you look anyway. For the sick, morbid thrill of it.

I suppose I'm being a tad melodramatic. Certainly, my life resembles nothing of a smoking, smoldering wreck along the side of the road, far from it, in fact, but, some days, I cannot help but feel that it is that, a twisted, worthless pile of rubble. I do not know why.

I left Omaha the first time to go to college in Ohio, to be with a girl I had met years before on AOL (this is merely one of many reasons for my dislike of this particular online service). I number this the first of my post-Millard North mistakes.

Midway through that first year, she dropped out of school and went home, to Cleveland, about an hour from campus, leaving me without a reason to actually be at that school. We would see each other occasionally on weekends, when she felt like driving. Once the year ended, I came back to Omaha, spoke with her once or twice during those first couple of weeks, and never again.

One might think that I would have learned something from this, but, as evidenced by my (relatively) recent foray to the West Coast, I was no wiser at twenty-five than I was at eighteen or nineteen or twenty. Smarts generally come from thinking with one's head (get your minds out of the gutter), rather than one's heart.

So...where am I now? Eight years removed from high school and I'm basically where I was immediately after graduation (or at least after that first year of college). Eight years. And what do I have to show for it?

I'll be twenty-seven on Halloween, living in the house I grew up in, and I'm finally making an honest attempt to straighten my life out, instead of fucking around like I've always done. It's like I purposefully put obstacles in my path so that I'd have an excuse when I failed.

Oh, who am I kidding? I've never needed an excuse to fail. Just a shrug of the shoulders and a flippant "Whatever," and I was on my way to the next screw up, confident in my casual indifference that everything would work out all right, because, really, I didn't much care. And therein, of course, lay the root of the problem.

But I care now, or so I tell myself. I've grown weary of being a burden on my family, both mentally and, perhaps more importantly, financially. I was tired of not knowing what I was doing with my day, let alone my life, and while I still don't have the answer, at least I'm asking the question. At least I'm looking, instead of waiting for it to hit me on the head (which probably couldn't hurt either).

And so I'm going to school. And I want to be going, to be learning, which is something of a new experience for me. I have something that slightly resembles a path before me. No more running haphazardly through the woods like some idiot kid in a slasher movie.

None of this, mind you, helps me with my other problem: women. I have a feeling that this one might take a while to figure out. A considerably longer while than the eight years between high school and finishing college, that's for sure.

I'm not what one would call a sociable person. Sure, I like hanging out with my friends, drinkin' and talkin' til two in the morning, but these are people I've known for years, for the most part. They are a known quantity, and I know that I can be myself and they don't care. I am who I am and they are who they are, and there's no pressure to impress anybody.

It's everyone else who make me uncomfortable. The cute girl who works at the bar (man, there was this one girl at the Fox and Hound last weekend, this little brunette with glasses...), or the one in my algebra class (although she hasn't been there since the class before our first test, which I got a 97% on, thank you very much)...like I mentioned above, I am who I am, and I don't fancy changing that for anyone. Not anymore. Not after everything I've done to try to accommodate everyone else. I've spent nearly half my life trying to be a certain something for other people and look where that's gotten me.

So the thing is, I can't imagine anyone who doesn't already know me wanting to get to know me...or maybe I reckon I don't much care to get to know them...

People are hard work. Friendships. Relationships. I have enough on my plate right now, with actually trying to do well in school, with trying to find a job now that I'm fairly confident I can juggle work and school. People just complicate things.

Fuck, I dunno. I don't even know what I want in a girl. Someone not like me, y'know? That's a certainty. I can barely stand my own thoughts on a daily basis. If I was with someone whose mindset was similar to mine...it would not be good.

You know what they say, about opposites attracting. Would that it were true, and maybe it is to a certain extent, and I just haven't met the right opposite number yet. Or I have and I'm too stupid to realize it, which is always a possibility, believe me.

I want someone who's smart (opposite from me, remember?), someone I can talk to about the world, and books, and life. But also someone who likes comics (or at least doesn't mind them) and movies, though not necessarily the same ones I do. I need someone who can stimulate me, who can make me think, someone who won't bore me with the latest Hollywood gossip and trivialities after a week.

You know what'd be nice? Someone who works out. Y'know, someone to go to the gym with, or go on walks with. I mean, excercising is pretty new to me, so it'd be helpful to have someone around to push me, to make me take better care of myself...to make me want to take better care of myself.

I have come to the conclusion, on many occasions throughout my soap opera melodrama of a life, that such a person doesn't exist for me, and at one point I decided that that was okay, that I would be fine going through life without actually sharing it with anybody. And I believed it, too, for a time.

Like most other things in my life, I've come to realize how wrong I was about this little philosophy of mine. I won't say that I need someone in my life, but you know...I sure wouldn't mind if she walked into my life tomorrow.

Only question is, would she mind if I walked into hers?

Does anyone know what this post was supposed to be about? Because I got lost a few paragraphs back. Must be gettin' old, losin' my train of thought like that. I haven't babbled like that in quite a while. Felt kinda refreshing, actually. I'll have to do that again some time.

Maybe next year.