I can feel the heat rising from my body, wafting over my face. Sweat pours down my forehead, over my nose, collecting in my goatee. Breath comes only through labored effort. Watching the other two in my peripheral vision, I counter the blow coming at my head...spinning to narrowly evade the swipe for my temple. A punch comes flying at my face and I have yet to recover from throwing the last guy to the ground. I see the clenched hand speeding towards me and I wince as it stops inches from my nose. I smile despite myself and thank God that this is just practice. I'd be dead if this were a real fight.

................................................................

I can't help but enjoy the conversations that take place in this room. Here is part of one from last night:

Ed: "Yeah, but Aaron’s not a pirate."

Aaron: "I AM TOO A PIRATE…shuddup!"

Ed: "No...you’re not."

Aaron: "I’ll slit your frickin' throat landlubber."
...............................................................

*I am Jack's complete lack of creativity and imagination*

I'll post something interesting later...when I'm motivated to do so. I should be doing homework anyway. I have WAY too much to do right now. So I'll just leave you with this quote:

"You make me do these tribal sounds!"
--Faye


p.s. I've noticed that allot of you are requesting porn in the guestbook. Should I be disturbed?

It's just laying there, flaccid, where I normally sit. The wrapper is torn in two, each piece laying on a subsequent step. Though it is not my first reaction, I do applaud the audacity of those two people. To understand fully, you must have a clearer picture of the location of this now tainted spot. There is a stairwell that leads from the 1st floor of the building to the roof. The roof stairwell is a dead-end to anyone lacking a key. I have, on many an occasion, tried to get onto the roof. But that is completely unrelated. I sit on the top step and talk on the phone because of better reception and privacy. It just so happens though that nearly every time I am there, at least one person ends up peaking around the corner as they are making their way up or down the stairwell. It would be impossible to hide. But hey...when passion hits, you gotta do something about it. Or something like that.

Now I use the middle of the stairwell when on the phone.

As the video droned on about murder and tradition, something scutteling across the floor caught my eye. The room was dark, making it difficult to find what exactly I had seen. Then it moved again...the biggest frickin cockroach I have ever seen. His brother, the second biggest fricking cockroach I have ever seen, wreaked havoc in our class the week before...till the teacher trapped him under the garbage can. So this mutant-sized cockroach was running around on the floor...and then noticed me. And I can only imagine what was going on in his mind. "Hmm...he looks nice...I think I'll pay him a visit." So our massive cockroach friend, who we will call 'Roachy' since I am tired of comming up with a descriptive word meaning 'large' to put before 'cockroach' every time, ran full speed towards me. It stopped three feet from me and stared. Well, I can only guess it was staring since I don't even know where a roaches eyes are...but I could tell it was giving me the eye. Not wanting to worry about Roachy, I stomped to scare it away. Now maybe I need to brush up on my cockroach information...but I thought that loud noises scared most insects away. This only caused Roachy to run even faster directly at my foot. I, being the big, tough man that I am, excused myself to go to the bathroom as Roachy was running around on the wall right behind my chair. I came back...hoping to see Roachy far, far away...maybe bugging that quiet girl in the corner of the room. Alas, as the lights were turned on, my little friend was right there behind my desk on the wall. I said something along the lines of, "Um, there's a cockroach on the wall." The teacher decided to try and kill it...by swatting it with a single sheet of paper. Yes...I'm sure that the hard exoskeleton body will be crushed under the incredible force of the paper. This only caused Roachy to run very fast, in turn causing my english teacher to let out a blood curdling scream. Then Roachy saw my sachel-like backpack and thought, "I like dark places...there is a dark place, I will go!" So there I was, not learning about english, but instead wondering how I was going to get Roachzilla out of my bag. The thought crossed my mind that maybe I wouldn't have to...maybe we could be friends. I could make him a little leash and he could go to all my classes with me. Then the lack-of-sleep-induced-hallucination wore off and I wanted Roachy dead. I knocked my bag over, luckily not crushing Roachy, but causing him to run across the room...educing screams from every person as it passed under their feet. Then some guy stepped on Roachy, thus ending the excitement.

In other news...I think I have another computer virus. Last night everything kept freezing and every time I tried opening a program it would take a good five minutes to do so. I hit the restart button...since that is the equivalent of kicking something mechanical when it doesn't work. I turned my head for one second to find a paper, looked back, and my monitor was blank except for one line of white text, "OPERATING SYSTEM NOT FOUND." After stringing together all the swear words I could think of, hitting the keyboard with my fist, and crying like a little baby...ok ok, so I didn't cry...I restarted my computer one more time. It started like normal, I felt stupid for getting so worked up, and I went to bed.

Did I miss the meeting? Or was there a book I was supposed to read? There must be some explanation as to why I do not feel I have the knowledge and experience I expected to have at this point in my life. I am nearing 20 years old (which is scary) and I do not have the stories, the wisdom, and whatever else goes along with being nearly 20 (which is even scarier). Remember when you were a freshman in high school and you looked at the superior race, also known as 'seniors', and thought how wonderful it would be one day when you could walk down the halls with the assurity and aloofness that was handed out the first day of senior year, along with locker combinations and class schedules? Fast forward to 4 years later. Remember when you were a senior and you looked at the superior race, also known as 'college kids', and thought how wonderful it would be one day when you could walk through your college campus with the individuality and independance waiting for you among the packets of papers handed to you after you give your parents the last hug good-bye? Fast forward to 4 years later. Wait...I can't go that far yet. I'm merely at the point where I realize that the feeling of superiority and knowledge is always one step ahead.

So instead of give you some great insight...I'll talk about cheesy college romance!!! Well, why not...it's an intricate and interesting thing to watch. For the most part it is easy to see that:
1) superficiality is key
2) guys only want sex
3) girls only want...um...I'm still trying to figure this one out
Sure this is not always the case. It's definitely not the case in my relationship with Sarah, and I know I'm not special enough to be alone in having a meaningful relationship (sad but true). But it is often true. There is a guy, whom we will call Bob, in one of my classes...we will call him Bob not for the sake of hiding his identity and saving his dignity...but because I'm terrible with names and can't remember his. He met this girl, whom we will call Annie...because that's her name. I watched the progression because I'm a people watcher. I saw him go from who he really is to what he is pretending to be now:
1) no longer swearing...because Annie doesn't like swearing
2) talking about God...because Annie likes God
3) hanging out solely with her...even though he has two very close friends in the class
4) 'protecting' her interests, like keeping people who smoke far away from her...when before he couldn't care less
And in all of this...it is painfully obvious to see that this is not who he really is. It is painfully obvious to see that he is merely acting like this because he wants her. It is painfully obvious to see that it's difficult for him to be something he is not. It is painfully...well...painful.

Like I said...this is amusing.

Outside of watching this 'relationship' happen before my eyes, I spent the rest of class listening in to other's conversations. Behind me, a group of guys were deciding who would be in their final cinematography project...a porno. One of the students had turned in storyboards for our latest assignment which consisted of a crudely drawn man and crudely drawn woman partaking in crude sexual acts. The teacher loved it.

She shows up with three bags in her hands saying, "I've brought provisions" as she starts unpacking 30-minute beta tapes. After I count 28 and raise my recently dropped jaw I ask if we are using all the tapes for the project. "Oh," she says, sounding almost amused, "of course not...we're only using 20 of them...the other 8 are just for found footage." Phew...that's a load off my mind...I thought this was going to be allot of work. I mean, this is childsplay, merely 70 HOURS OF FOOTAGE to scour for decent shots of 130 teachers doing something other than scolding, slacking, or being completely boring. And merely two and a half days to do it. Needless to say, I didn't finish it all. But hey, good times were still to be found in this weekend of no sleep and too much stress. I was handed a master key to our school. Yes, a master key. I could open any and every door in the entire building. Obviously I went around opening random doors at will, purely because I could. That key afforded me some very memorable times. Also, despite my extreme lack of free time, I was able to see Sarah a good amount. That was greatly needed and much appreciated. Though I must say that I hate goodbyes more than I hate most anything. Sarah drove me to the airport on Sunday, and I think we both agree that saying goodbye just plain sucks. Especially when I won't be back for another four weeks. But I'll have to make due.

Hey boys and girls...it's time for "Grant's Airport Adventures!!!"
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***I noticed one of the only empty seats by my terminal was by some man who was talking to himself. "Oh well" I thought, "this might be interesting." I realized, to my disapointment, that he was actually talking into a little headset that was plugged into his cell phone. But listening closer got me a little confused. "Office. Awwwffice. Awfiiiiice. Awwwffiiiice. Office. Damn. OFFICE! AWWWFFICE!!!" He was either trying to program the voice activated calling, trying to use the voice activated calling, or has created a new language that uses one word and different inflections to convey different meanings.

***"Sir...please step this way," I heard the man in the blue suit say. I followed him and he took my bag, ticket, and ID. "Raise your arms please" he mumbled as he waved his metal detector over me until completely satisfied that I am not the next air-terrorist. "Please have a seat and take off your shoes." Sigh~if some guy put a bomb in his shoes a while back, and failed...what are the chances of it happening again in the exact same way?!? Pretty friggin slim. The next guy will hide the bomb in some orifice in his body, and before you know it those random searches will be full body strip searches in the back room...with a 400 lb. man.

***I walked through the metal detector and the security lady standing beside it nearly screams, "WHAT IS THAT?!?" as she pointed at my crotch. I looked down, looked back up, and calmly said, "It's a pocket watch." She seemed a little more calm and let me through. But she kept her eye on me.

***I'm really stupid...I parked my car in short term parking instead of long term...thereby costing me $17 a night...for four nights. There goes nearly half of what I earned for this suicide mission of an editing job I was assigned.
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I think if I ever get a snake...I'm going to name it Mr. Wiggly.

so...tired

must...sleep

will...update...later

Yeah, I already posted today...but I found some random stuff that I wanted to put up...just because. So deal.

First off...you all have to go HERE. Boy bands are bad enough...but these androgynous guys are just rediculous. And how can you go wrong with lyrics like this:
Tell me whatcha do 'cause it's all about you
Anything you want girl I'm a do it to
24/7 I'm a tell you, what I wanna do girl
What I wanna do
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And this...just gives me the chills:

“Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad.”
—Anonymous

“Whom the mad would destroy, they first make gods.”
—Bernard Levin
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And here are some more quotes from Prolle 406:

***Aaron: “hey, there’s the jelly bean, it didn’t fall on the floor, it was on my chair. Oooh, now it’s all warm from me sitting on it…..hey Grant….want a jelly bean?”

***Me: “Hey, Yahoo’s background is pink! OHHH, it’s breast cancer awareness month…but still…PINK?”
Aaron: “Ah, the color of breasts.”

***Christina: “My name means 'Christian,' or 'I anoint'…”
Aaron: “Or 'I vomit.' "
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Right...back to work.

Getting up in the morning is bad enough when you are still tired...but it's so much worse when you are also sore. After nearly two hours of Aikido last night, including some mad crazy two-one-one freestyle action, I was dead tired...to say the least. Needless to say, I was sore when I woke up. And sleep has not been that nice to me lately, therefore I was also tired. So not only did I not want to get up because I was tired...but I felt I couldn't get up because I was sore. Luckily, Ed and Aaron were jelous of my sleeping in and decided that if I didn't get up they would pull me out of bed. That is until I threatened to stab them with darts.

I am no longer a film festival virgin. I went to the Long Beach Film Festival with Aaron the other day to see O Invisor, and Rodents (though that is not the Spanish name...I forgot the Spanish name). After the films ended I thought that I didn't like them. But I examined my reasons for not liking them, and realized that it was merely because the films ended, and not all the complications had been cleared up. But is this a reason to dislike a movie? Of course not. We are so engrained with the sitcom mentality where any problem, even your spouse getting a sex change and running away with the pool cleaner, can be solved in 30 minutes flat. And that's including commercial time. We have the media telling us that there are people who live perfect lives. We have the television telling us that an unsolved problem is unhealthy. But these foreign films were not made in a society with the same preconceived notions...therefore the movie ends like life. There are still questions. There is still confusion. Some people are worse off then before. And it could go anywhere from there. And this applies to every area of everyday life. Even relationships. So sit back, listen, and call me...Dr. Love. Well, no...nevermind. If I was Dr. Love, you would all be in trouble. But anyway. I was thinking about Sarah and I, and I realized that often times I have the mentality that there shouldn't be the smallest problem present...or things aren't working. I often have the mentality that I must be doing something wrong because everything is not of fairy-tale status. And we look to advertising, movies, books, the media...and all we see are picture perfect romances. Our model is of impossible height to reach. So we look at others around us and see that their relationships are no better than our own...therefore they must not have it all together either. But if you stop and think for a second or two...you will realize that not many people do have a spouse get a sex change and then find them shacking up with a pool maintenance person. Most people have much simpler problems. But would anyone really watch a sitcom where a married couple was having communication issues? If there's no nudity, death, or drugs...then no. Maybe if the guy was from the future and came to the past to make a fortune selling drugs that have yet to be invented, and the girl is a recently recovered druggie who has decided to spend her extra energy selling her body on the streets, and they are mad at eachother because they never talk anymore. Yeah...that's it. But until that is my situation...Sarah and I will deal with long distance, all the while learning more about love as we go...just not from the media.

Ok, that was kind of heavy...now for something completely different:
_______________________________________________________
RANDOM STUPH:
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***My comments are back offline. Netcomments is moving domains and going through a big transitions phase, so you'll have to wait till Saturday (I think) to get all those wonderful thoughts down on my site.

***Ed took a picture of my corkboard...so I made it into a little section over there on the left. Go...it's fun...really.

***My hand just started bleeding...be right back...need a band-aid.
~~~~2 MINUTES LATER
***My hand is no longer bleeding.

***Our elevator said, "Maximum Capacity...." Someone scrathed it up, so now it just says, "..p..ity"
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END RANDOM STUPH:
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--A conversation from the other night (abridged):

me: "Clothes should be edible."
Faye: "There are edible underware."
me: "No, ALL clothes should be edible. That way you could wear them and then eat them...it would be so much more economical."
Faye: "I wouldn't want to eat my clothes."
Me: "Why not?!?"
Faye: "Well, I wouldn't eat my socks."
Ed: "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Faye: "I mean, what about sweat?"
Aaron: "Then you should sweat different flavors to add to the clothes."
Me: "Yeah, sweat could be like seasonings."
Aaron: "You could sweat salad dressing to have with your shirt, and salt to go with your socks."
Ed: "But then you would be naked when you were done eating."
Aaron: "You would get your next set of clothes from the restaurant."
Me: "You would go in and eat your clothes for lunch, then order more for dinner...and wear them until dinner time."
Aaron: "But what about eating in public places?"
Me: "Hmm...I hadn't thought about that."

"I think of square roots as hospitals for sick patients. You know, patients with multiple personality disorder. Here's a two and he says, "I don't know what to do! I see myself on my left and on my right!" And this two's name is Harry..."
~my math teacher explaining square roots

"What is it that you love to do, you have to do. What sets you free? . . . And I'm not talking about sex."
~my english teacher

"I learn where you are by location. I know Grant sits over there. If he stands up, I have no clue who he is."
~my math teacher again

So I've got my first paying job. It seems that I am wanted to coerce all the rich parents of Valley Christian High School, who are invited to a special dinner, into giving money to the school since the teachers get paid crap. I am being flown up to San Jose to edit a 'teachers are heroes' type of thing to show how wonderful these people are and to show that they actually need money to live just like everyone else. And I'm making a music video for a band who will be playing at this dinner thing. Best of all, I get money for it.

On a completely different note...the band is doing well. "What band?" you are probably saying. Oh...that's right, I've never really talked about it, but I'm in a band. We are still just getting started out, but Breakfast Epiphanies will hopefully be able to play some local clubs soon (or just Chapman's little quad area while people meander around and eat lunch). I'm slowly getting better at bass, and maybe if I ever figure out how, I can get some sound clips of me/our band playing.

And this is really dull...sorry. I'm just not in a creative mood in the least. I'll update later when I won't bore you all to death. Maybe tonight.

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.
~Hunter S. Thompson

um...yeah...i have a new comments section thingy. sadly it deleted all your beautiful comments. sad. really. so you will all have to make up for it by commenting like crazy. YES!!! DO IT!!!

Angered at my frozen computer I mashed the power button and restarted this piece of crap machine. I swiveled around in my chair to watch some more of the movie. Ten minutes later, after not touching the computer, the printer started on its own. A single page came sliding out and I reached back without looking and picked up the page. I saw nothing printed and was ready to crumple it up and throw it away when something on the upper left hand of the page caught my eye. A single black heart barely bigger than a period. And nothing like this has ever happened before.

maybe it's a sign

I was taking off my clothes to shower (don't worry...this doesn't get too much more graphic) and I noticed that something was written on my hip. The boxers I was wearing are "Joe Boxer", and their name is embossed in the waistline of the boxers. Therefore I had "Joe Boxer" written backwards in red on my waist. Kind of like how ambulences have the word "ambulence" written backwards on their vehicle. Now I can stand behind someone's car and they can read in the rear view mirror what kind of boxers I wear. Or not.

I have super powers...or at least I did for a short period of time. Earlier Aaron had the strange urge to go work out. I agreed to go with him since I know that I need it to; and this seemed to be the opportune time to do so since it has been months since I have lifted more than my bedspread to go to sleep. In my head I could still bench 185 lbs. and I could still curl 65 lbs. Heh...this led to a not so amusing realization, muscle deteriorates if not used often and to the same degree it was used before. So after making a fool of myself in a room full of buffed-stereotypical jocks, Aaron pointed to the super-high tech treadmills. Soon I was sprinting 2 miles. After the stomach cramps subsided and I realized how out of shape my lungs were, I stepped off the treadmill. I took one step and BAM...I felt like Neo from the Matrix..."Whoa!" Since I had been running at full speed for 20 minutes and not moving...now every step made the world around me see to move at normal speed as I moved at super speed. GO ON...SHOOT AT ME...I CAN DODGE IT!!! Then the awe wore off and I just felt like I was drunk and couldn't walk right.

It has been a while since the boyz in Prolle 406 taped edibles to the outside of the door for the hungry college students roaming the halls...too long in my opinion. The other day I found Aarons moldy orange on the ground and before I knew what hit me...opportunity was screaming in my face...quite loudly I might add. After half a roll of tape and some sticky notes proclaiming, "FREE: Moldy Orange", we were ready for the fun to ensue. Sadly...not too much fun did ensue...and I made no unhealthy attachments to the comestibles. Someone took the orange and left a note saying, "Thanks." Glad I could help the needy.

I had a dream the other night that I was fighting in an urban war...dodging bullets (no...not like Neo)...shooting the enemy...and barely staying alive. It was really quite frightening. After we won (who is 'we' ? Dunno), we regrouped. Only about 10 of us made it. I started crying on the shoulder of the general because of post-war trauma. I had almost died. But then the music started blaring and we were dancing in choreographed fashion and singing in unison...musical style. But I didn't know the dance (guess I missed that day in bootcamp) and was always one step behind. Hey...why has nobody made a war musical? I'm telling ya...untapped potential. This also goes along with my deam last night that I didn't know the monologue that I was supposed to give for my drama class (though I'm not in one). It seems that I have a fear of people expecting too much of me when I know that I can't deliver. Or maybe I just eat too much chocolate before I go to sleep.

I had a whole lot to write about...like the strip tease taking place earlier, or the fact that I'm not wearing any underwear...but I can't seem to remember too much of it. Oh well, it's you guys who miss out. Gosh I need sleep. Or maybe this is all due to the fact that everyone keeps calling me "Grunk." Or maybe it's due to the fact that the fire alarm just went off causing massive hemmoraging and bleeding eardrums as all the kids had to pile into the street so they could check the rooms just to find out it was probably just some kid smoking pot. Or maybe I need to stop before I say something incriminating (like I haven't already). Bye for now.

hey...rate me over there under the counter. click on the button that you think describes my site (obviously you will be picking 'the best')

hey...I put some new pictures up in the 'non-college pics' page, but I'm not very computer savvy and screwed it up somehow...it will be fixed soon

hey...I put some new pictures up in the college pictures page...go there

hey...I added some new artwork and revamped my art section...go there

hey...sign my guestbook...lots...lots and lots

hey...are you tired of me telling you what to do?

Gosh it's been a long time. But I have good reason. It was Spring Break. I was home. I was busy. Deal with it.

Oddly enough I don't have too many wacky or crazy stories to recount to this little internet world. So I'll give y'all the Cliff's Notes version of my trip home...and maybe I'll extrapolate on an interesting story or two. I took a six hour ride in my little coffin of a car to get to San Jose, and on the way home I got this thing called a "Double Shot" which is supposed to be two shots of Starbucks espresso in a small can with some cream and sugar...the perfect rush for a long lonely drive. The can said "shake well." I shook well. I guess I shook too well. I had coffee stains on the crotch of my pants. I saw Sarah every day and we saw more movies in a week than most people see in over a month. We went to Panic Room on opening night and I was not extremely impressed...I guess it was too built up in my mind. It did however bring back some interesting memories of doing the play Wait Until Dark. I found out that Donnie Darko came out on video...so I forced Sarah to watch it...I think she liked it ok. I think it's brilliant. Maybe I'm alone. We visited the park we used to go to allot and discussed the dog-eat-dog world of motherhood and watched the cool moms join together and talk and the un-cool moms join together and talk. I thought that the whole "junior-high-caffeteria-who am I going to sit with-I don't want to be an outcast" thing ended as you became an adult...I guess not. We went to Gordon Beirch for dinner one night and Sarah got a chicken that looked like it was prepared by a contortionist trying to figure out new positions. I just got pasta...but there was a little tree in the middle of it...that was cool. And too soon I was driving back home away from my friends, away from my family, away from Sarah, all for another six hour drive, another Starbucks Double Shot (but this time I was careful...but not careful enough...as I was putting it down in the cupholder to get back in my car I smashed my forhead into the top of my window, leaving a huge red lump), another 7 CD's, another curse word screamed at the top of my lungs in the middle of heavy traffic, and now another half a semester of school.

I got back to my room at school and found the background of my computer had been changed to two ken doll type toys in speedos right next to eachother with the text "Let's Get It On" next to them. There is some kind of chocolate melted on my scanner. Ed's hair is in cornrows now instead of a fro. And things are 'normal' again.

I'm sorry...I really have nothing to say. I think I'll ramble for a bit and then end this mofo. Read Chuck Palahniuk's books. All of them. Fight Club, Invisible Monsters, Survivor, and Choke.. Then...wait...I'm just telling you what to do. I HATE it when people tell ME what to do. So why do I have the right to tell YOU what to do? I'm sorry...I apologize profusely.. Time to go. Bye for now.