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| Once Upon a Time...
you may ask yourself, will this be a coming of age tale about the rise and fall of republicanism and the angst of a lost generation? nay. but it will be a tale about me. tryin' to get some knowledge.
Act I
Ever since i was a wee chap...i found, as many of you have, a hunger for power. world domination, as some call it. well...as we all know...world domination is hard to come by these days, so i had to settle for something a little less grandiose. many great leaders have said that knowledge is power...so i decided that the next best thing to power is knowledge. [many great leaders have also lied to us and did things that were terrible in the pursuit of power...so it's kind of a catch twenty-two if i may use that terminology] This knowledge was something i found myself yearning for my entire life. I wanted to know why the sky was blue...why automobiles work...and why shoelaces have those little things on the ends of them. [why do they have those litlte things anyway? still haven't figured that out]
in my pursuit of knowledge, i found myself enrolled, forcibly, and rather inconveniently in school. mine was the kind at home. homeschool some call it. i was well on my way to gaining all the knowledge the world had to offer. This homeschooling carried me through all the way to the 17th anniversary of my passage from the womb into the outside world, and i found myself expected to enter a magical world called college.
yes. college. it truly is magical. college is the only place where a man can find the time to study 12 hours a day, sleep for 3 hours a day, and play world of warcraft 24 hours a day in the pursuit of developing his body into a round looking blob and his brain into much worse. impossible you say? not at college. i've got one word for you. multitasking.
my own pursuit did not involve the degradation of my physical being and the stupefying of my brain. on the contrary. i enrolled in classes and began my journey.
Our first adventure begins as the first week of classes start here on Liberty Mountain. it was a warm and beautiful day, full of possibility and future, not to mention knowledge dripping from every lamp post. little did i know, a great battle was about to occur on this very campus.
i made my way into the Demoss building [pictured above], which, to a new student looks like the white house, and inside the entryway, looks like a scene from an old disney movie. my first and foremost task was to find my first classroom. i had never been in this strange new magical land before, and it was quite the struggle finding my way through the hallways as you will soon see. DH 2090 was my first mission. Typography. a class i would come to have a love\hate relationship with. as i traversed the sea of freshman and angry seniors, i was suddenly attacked by a gaggle of giggling green-eyed girls. when i say green eyes, what i mean is that they had frappuccino hungry eyes and crazy foaming mouths that i can only describe as rabid. they formed an impenetrable force lining the hallway from port to starboard. they were too distracted wearing lip gloss and texting to notice that there was quite a mass of people trying to get past them. i was tossed and turned in the sea of swirly twirly collegiates, all the while i felt notebooks, pencils, scantrons, and calculators penetrating my flesh. it was the most horrific scene i could never describe. i lost track of time, but if i were to estimate, this terrible riot went on for roughly 6 hours and 23 minutes. after all this brutal torture and pain, i knew we had to do something. i assembled a small crack squadron of band nerds with their trombones [they make good weapons] and World of Warcraft geeks who could spit L33T jargon like nobody's business. We used the trombones as battering rams and started rushing the teenage mutant ninja girls.
at first it was easy, but as we got closer, the smell of the perfume cut its way into our nostrils like nerve gas, dumbing down our braincells by the nanosecond. that was nothing compared to what came next. each girl increasing their usage of the words "Like", "No Way!", "Shut Up!", "Barbies", and whatever else you crazy girls talk about. our ear canals were penetrated and this foul language soon found its way up to our limbic system near the cerebellum. I looked over at my comrade, Garret [ who is a real person and most definitely a WoW nerd] and he had makeup on, which had found its way to his face either by the close proximity of estrogenic substance, or by the application of such earlier that morning. by himself. either way, it was a bad situation.
we finally made our way to the line of girls, and it took all the force we could muster between the 6 [or however many of us i said there were earlier] to break through the blockage. as i was passing through the compilation, i think i heard a teenager scream something about world domination through the pursuit of knowledge, but i ignored it, and found myself lying bleeding on the threshold of a door. i stood up, and on that door was the code, DH 2090. I had found the target.
-josh
more coming later. | | |
| what is that? a bowling ball with a fuse? you're good to go.
so why is it that whenever you see a bank robber in the movies or cartoons, they always have a dollar sign on the bag as they're walking out of the bank? we know there's money in there. if i saw a man with a ski mask and a gun walking out of a bank with lumpy bags in his hands, i wouldn't assume he just came from the grocery store.
and also, why did he bring bags with dollar signs on them? perhaps he has a lot of non-descript bags of lumpy mass at home and needs to properly label his belongings? where do you get black bags with dollar signs on them? do they come in different styles? what do they do in other countries where they have the pound or the euro?
i don't know.
-josh | | |
| Oh xanga.
There's been a bunch of stuff that happened since i posted last.
.i quit both my jobs.
.i went to college. man.
that's only two things...so i guess i was exaggerating. i don't even think i spelled that correctly. there's always spell check.
so we've shared a few laughs, made a lot of friends, told a few stories along the way...and my classes are going well. i especially enjoy my graphics specialized courses, digital photography, desktop publishing, and typography.
typography has been really hard and everything...but sometimes things happen that just bamboozle you. some things just pose a conundrum. (and you thought this was going to be purely informational.)
for instance, when i was in my typography class one day...i glanced over at this asian kid across from me. his name is AJ...which he swears stands for Apple Juice...but i don't believe him. he was looking really shady. he would look up at the teacher, and then across at the girl in front of him...and then up at the teacher, and then at the girls bag on the table, and then at the teacher...etc.
then i saw something i never thought i'd see in my lifetime. he pulled a fork out of his bag (one that he probably stole from the cafeteria) and looked at it. he then looked at the teacher who was teaching...and looked at the girl...who was learning...and he stuck the fork into her bag...and then faced the teacher like nothing had ever happened. now...he probably didn't know i had seen the whole thing...but inside, it was turmoil. i had all kinds of questions! why did he put the fork in her bag? why did he bring a fork to class? where did he get the fork? why am i thinking about the fork incident and not listening to the lecture?
as these thoughts swelled in my mind, i looked over, and found that i was not the only one to notice. the girl whose bag was now 1 fork richer, looked across at AJ...and looked into her bag...pulled out the fork...and handed it back to him with a look of bewilderment. she most likely had the same questions i had. AJ, with a sheepish grin, took the fork...placed it in his bag...and said "crap." because his plans had been thwarted.
THE END.
maybe i'll post more at a later date. maybe i'll go on a date with a later post.
someone please save us...
-josh
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| This xanga is not a lifesaving device.
but superman is.
This weekend I went and saw the movie "Superman Returns," and I've always been a big fan of the Man of Steel...but I never realized how strange the whole scenario is. I mean...good grief, the guy wears underwear on the outside of his leotards. Red underwear with blue leotards. And a red cape. And did he come up with the idea to put the "S" on the suit himself? Did he come up with the name Superman? That sounds pretty vain to me. Any time you see him walking around...he just looks like some overly devoted fan with cotton balls under his spandex. And why does he change in a telephone booth? Don't those have glass doors and windows? Even if they didn't...wouldn't anyone notice that Clark Kent goes in...and Superman comes out? Besides the fact that nobody notices that he's Clark Kent in the first place. The only barrier between him and the world discovering his secret identity are those emo glasses. Don't you recognize your friend without his glasses on? I'm pretty sure I would...especially if I was Lois Lane. So it's a great movie...but it's just a little bit uncouth. I don't even know.
Has xanga lost it to myspace?
-josh
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