Stolen from Little E's Blog:

I read this on Little E's blog and thought it was interesting so I swiped it (as she did from andi's blog), so here's a little thingy about books and reading.

20 Years Ago: (almost 8 years old) At this point I was reading ahead of my age. I had started reading some stuff like Robinson Crusoe, Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, and any books about football/sports I could get my hands on, but the main two things I was reading at this time were: Old Yeller and Where the Red Ferns Grow. I LOVE those books. Especially WTRFG. I have read those books a thousand times. I would read them and immediately start rereading them again. I also read a children's version of Frankenstein about this time, and I have been hooked every since. I love Frankenstein. I used to imagine I was Frankenstein's monster when playing in the woods near my house. I would pretend I was him climbing mountains when I was climbing trees, etc.

10 Years Ago: (age 18) At this time I was reading a myriad of stuff. I loved Anne Rice and read everything she wrote, and I also read quite a bit of Stephen King because my brother loves King and I wanted to be able to have book talk with him. However, at this point I was mostly reading Camus especially The Stranger because I envisioned myself as a anti-moral rebel who felt I did not need to apologize to society for my behavior or outlook. I was also reading quite a bit of Bellow, Steinbeck, and Burgess. It was around this time I found Henderson the Rain King and A Clockwork Orange, which I must admit, I read only after seeing the movie. For some reason I have always wanted to be a character that rejects/breaks every single law the world offers. I simply want to do what I want when I want and I can be a petulant child when I can't. That is why Henderson and Alexander appeal to me, and especially Meursault in Camus' book. I never wanted to hurt anyone but I would never apologize if someone forced me to hurt them. I, much like Meursault, even find it difficult to ask God for forgiveness. I loved and still love Vampire fiction because I think immortality would allow me to do what I please when I please.

5 Years Ago: (age 22) I had just finished my pledge and JI semesters in KA. There was very little reading, and a hell of a lot of boozing going on at this point. I had to read for class but that was it. I remember I loved Waiting for the Barbarians by J.M. Coetzee and Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. I was also reacquainted with Mr. Conrad and Kurtz around this time. "Mista Kurtz? He Dead" or "The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much" or "I don't like work--no man does, but I like what is in the work--the chance to find yourself" are all fabulous quotes from Heart of Darkness. I did read and reread The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot over and over again because of Dr. Stayer. I felt to be a "Stayer-ite" I had to know it cold.

Last Year: (age 26) A ton of shit to prepare for my thesis. I took the Roth class and read his major works. I also read much Roth that was not in that class. I also took American Realism with Dr. Royal and a course on Reading Theory with Fulkerson. The main thing I read that I loved was All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy, Mao II by Don Delillo (although I hated it at first), The Jade Cabinet by Rikki Ducornet (who incidently is the rikki from Rikki Don't lose that Number by Steely Dan), and The New York trilogy by Paul Auster. All fabulous books.

This Month: (age 27) I've read not so much this past month or so. Since the beginning of April I've read: Some stuff for Dr. D-O's class. I can't remember titles.

• Golems of Gotham by Thane Rosenbaum
• How to Read Literature Like a Professor by Thomas C. Foster (book review for D-O)
• Tons of Shakespeare Plays
• I have begun both Lolita and Sanctuary which I will force myself to complete to overcome my reader's block.

With that being said I am off to the Guadalupe River with Crystal and my KA brothers to float the river while drinking several hundred beers. Pray for me. I just might need it. Be Cool.

Houston, We have a Problem...

Although I recently finished reading Thane Rosenbaum's Golems of Gotham (which I began like two months ago) I have encountered a problem: I have reading block. That is right folks, reading block. I don't want to read anything. I am even having trouble reading the entirity of blogs. Except for A Disturbed Universe. I concur with many of J's assessments of the problems with family get togethers. Why are holidays/family get togethers such an asswhip/burden at times? Speaking of which is anyone looking for a roommate? My mother is driving me crazy. I promise I will even help you move her shit in. Just Kidding...well, sort of.

Anyway, I don't want to read anything. Well let me rephrase that: I want to read a ton of shit: Nabokov, Faulkner, McCarthy, and Swift, but I simply cannot force myself to focus, and finish what I start. I hate this. I used to read a ton now I cannot read anything. I have even been skimming when I read emails. It is terrible. I am not sure how I can fix this. I seem to have acquired a phobia of reading. I have resorted to playing Madden NFL 2006 instead of reading late into the evenings. One upside is that I have totally rewritten the NFL record books for offensive and defensive production. One drawback is that I am in danger of becoming a total zombie.

I also have been watching a lot of movies. X Men 3 was pretty good. It was a comic book movie so don't expect any Oscar Award winning theatrics. Good Night, and Good Luck was also fabulous. Dreamer was ok. Kind of like Racing Stripes for Adults. Hustle and Flow was Excellent. Great Soundtrack and Terrance Howard was excellent as D Jay.

The whole Job Search Thing has triggered a new level of stress and depression that has spun my sleeping habits out of control. I am basically sleeping like 3 hours a night, and 3 hours a day at odd times like 5 in the afternoon. I have realized one thing: I am basically unqualified to do anything except become a professor. I have "educated" myself out of most entry level positions, and there is nothing currently available in publishing which seems to be the only other thing you can FUCKING DO WITH A MASTERS IN ENGLISH. I have a degree I can't do shit with except become a professor. Don't even come at with that high school bullshit. I am decidely NOT interested in that educational opportunity. I will seriously KARATE KICK THE SHIT OUT OF THE NEXT PERSON WHO SUGGEST I APPLY FOR TEACHING GIGS AT HIGH SCHOOLS. First, I have thought of that. I won't get paid until October so it is out. Plus high school sucks my fucking arse. Even coaching football could not assauge the fucking hemorraghic wound teaching high school would inflict. What the FUCK was I thinking when I let Dr. D convince me this was a much better career choice than going to Law school at Texas Tech?

I am seriously second guessing my decision to turn down Law School in favor of pursuing a career in Academia. I could be gearing up to take the state bar exam right now and looking for a position at a major firm in International Business or Criminal Defense. Add this to the salt that was rubbed in my wound by being accepted to Florida State without an assistantship, and not being able to graduate to attend Tulane before the Hurricane and I am thinking God is trying to tell me to get the fuck out and go to Law school.

Well, I have to go. I have an interview as a Leasing Agent at an apartment complex this afternoon. It will probably end up being in South Oak Cliff or some shit knowing my fucking luck. I swear, I may go on a shooting/Karate Kicking spree if it is. Reminds me of that episode of Beavis and Butthead where Beavis dreams he is Kane from Kung Fu. "Does not the tree need the sun? Does not the mountain need the storm? Does not your nuts need kicking?" Classic.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE A/C .

My dad just happened to have a window unit laying around that he forgot to mention. I have been complaining about dying a slow death at the hands of the heat at my mothers house and two weeks later he decides to casually mention this phantom A/C unit. Good Times, Good Times.

Operation Job Search is not going according to schedule. After the miraculous start of 3 for 3 I have yet to hear from the many companies to which I have submitted resumes. After briefly accepting one of the three job offers I realized why they were so quick to throw an offer my way: The Jobs are Terrible. I think the main problem is I submit a resume and expect to get hired the next day. I don't like waiting around. It is kind of disheartening.

I did have the strangest interview ever yesterday. The interview consisted of inviting 14 candidates to give 1 minute presentations on themselves, and then having them call a voice mail system and try to "sell" the staff on coming to the university I applied to. Strange. I hope I did well. I really want this job. It took much longer to drive to Coit Road from Fort Worth than it did to actually complete the interview.

Mavs lost 121-118 and I don't want to talk about it.

Trapped in the Seventh Circle of the Inferno; or An Ode to my Father.

This little doozy to the left is something we all take for granted until we do not have it. It is a little invention called an A/C or to be more specific an "air conditioner." Basically this little magical device cools the air and is a necessity in Texas because some jack ass decided to build Texas a mile from the freaking sun. As most of you know I recently moved back home with my mother until I can become gainfully employed and get my own place. However there is one little hitch: my mother does not have central air. She has a window unit...in her room. So I am basically screwed. Let me just go on record as stating life is not good without A/C.

Luckily my dad is gone to Shreveport to feed his wife's enormous gambling addiction and he asked me to dog sit his two poodles, and I can enjoy his A/C for at least one night before returning to the inferno. Just for the record: I dare you to make jokes about the poodles. I promise I will tell him you said it, and he will find you. My dad is kind of like me except A LOT more mean spirited hateful and vengeful. I would tell him you mocked his poodles just to see what he would do. Remember this when mocking said poodles:

When I was 16 someone tried to do a "home invasion" at my house. (for those of you in the audience who are clueless: a home invasion is where someone kicks in your door and "invades" your home in order rob, rape, and pillage whatever is inside your house). Anyway, I wake up at like 3 in the morning and some one is trying to kick in the back door to our house (which is in my room by the way). So I jump up and go grab my dad. My back door has a kick proof metal plate so the robbers start trying to pry it open with a crow bar. By this time my dad and I have retrieved shot guns and are standing about 8 feet from the door.

I am knealed down one knee and my dad is standing over me so that we can open up on these dudes the moment they open the door. We both have the shotguns loaded with double oo buck pointed at the door and are waiting for the inept burglars to break into the house...only they can't do it. Dad's kick proof door is whooping their ass. Anyway, while we are standing their waiting to blast some would be burglars, my dad leans over, and taps me on the shoulder with his elbow to get my attention. I am thinking some one is trying to come through a window or something and dad wants to warn me. I was wrong. He nudged me to smile like a kid and whisper "hey...we are fixing to get to shoot someone!" I was like "uh...ok...cool." The burglars finally give up and we see them walking around to the front of the house.

They are parked down the street a bit and are going back to their vehicle. We are watching through the window thinking they will be back, and are just biding our time. Only they get in the car and begin idle down the street slowly. My dad runs to the front door, and unlocks it, as the would be burglars begin to drive away. He then runs out the front door in boxers and a wife beater and begins to unload on the car with a 12 gauge shot gun from about 25-30 yards away. They immediately speed off and we never hear from them again. However, about 45 minutes later we have about 20 cops trying to arrest my dad for illegally discharging a firearm within city limits. That's my dad. Good times, Good times.

One last tidbit about the poodles. We bought the current poodles we have now for my dad because he was asked to dog sit a poodle by the name of Stretch for a couple of months while his current wife and her sister were living in a place where dogs were not allowed. He ended up getting attached to the dog, and the dog to him, so he kept it. I think they actually asked for it back and my dad said no at one point. That must have been awkward. Actual Owner: "Hey, can I uh...you know...have MY dog back?" Dad: "NO." Owner: "uh...yeah that is cool. I did not really like that dog anyway. You go ahead and keep it." Dad walks off with said dog. Anyway I am digressing here. So my dad keeps this dog Stretch, and life is good. Until one day said dog is outside pottying, gets out of the fence, and gets hit by a car.

Another little back story here: When my grandmother (my father's own mother. The woman whose womb he was carried in for nine months) died, he stood stoically by her grave and simply said, "well everything has to come to an end. She had a good run while it lasted." Exact words.

Yeah.

So this dog gets hit by a car. My dad stands on our front porch for 30 minutes crying like a bitch with a skint knee. I have NEVER seen my dad cry. Not even when his dad died and they were best friends, and simpaticos. I have seen my dad pistol whip some one, throw someone off a third story balcony, try to drown a guy in a hot tub, and break someone's fingers at a poker game for trying to rake a pot after my dad accused him of cheating, and very sternly warned him not to "touch one fucking cent of that money in the pot" but NEVER cry.

After Stretch got hit by that car he did not go to work for TWO weeks. He sat in the living room sulking, watching tv, and staring at a picture of this dog. We bought him these two poodles because we were afraid he was comtemplating suicide over a fucking dog. So now we have Jack and Jill, and I am dog sitting. Which is cool in more ways than one. They are actually two really fine hounds. Jacques (jack, in french. He is a poodle after all.) and I are chilling, drinking beer (well me, not the dog, but he is drinking in spirit), and blogging at like 1 in the morning. For the record, Jacques is the only other good thing to come out of France besides literature. Wine sucks so don't come at me with that bullshit. I don't respect any country that does not have a fine lager or ale. So, as long as I have Beer and A/C, life is good. For the record: I love my dad, and I am not trying to clown on him here. He may be crazy, but he is a lot of fun, and always interesting.

A New Career; or "How are you going to hang siding on that bridge?"

Well I gave the career in the fast paced world of sales the "old college try," but alas, I do not think I am cut out to hawk used cars. By the way if anyone can tell me what movie the above quote comes from I will buy you a six pack of beer, and you will forever earn my respect and admiration. I really don't even care if you find it on the internet. The truth of the matter, however, is that I don't think I have it in me to lie to people's faces about how much they "need" a new car, or to work the phones to convince people to trade in their old jaloppies for some sort of quicksand car deal. It lasted an entire week. The good news is I am going to have a great conference paper/journal article out of it because I am going to write a paper about the experience. I will not not mention specifics lest someone pirate my idea before I can get it written. Lets be real, there are a lot of shiesty bastards out their, and why take the chance, right?

Hopefully, however, I will have an interview at a Dallas Technical or Vocational school as an enrollment coordinator next week. While I am not sure what exactly an enrollment coordinator does exactly, it kind of sounds like a jazzed up Academic Advisor. But what the hell, it starts at 31k so I am sure I could deal with it.

Anyway, my point is this: Women are the devil. I know that comes a quite a shock to a lot of you but I think if you shaved their heads, (or other parts) you could probably find a stellar set of horns. Why is it when you need them most they always feel compelled to try to kick you in the crotch? Not just a love tap but a running drop kick right to the testicles. Worthless I say Worthless.

To top it all off the Mavericks peed the series against San Antonio down their legs last night losing a nail biter, 91-86. Who knew we would miss Jet that much. Devin Harris single handley played us out of that game. Dribbling at the top of the key for 10-15 seconds before deciding to do something bad with ball will not cut it against the spurs. The Diggler
did all he could to salvage the game all he could grabbing a career high 22 boards to go with his 26 points, but alas he had no one to force San Antonio to keep him honest. If Jet had played we win that game last night by 12, EASY. I swear but we had no one down the stretch that could hit a shot to help the Diggler on the offensive end. Killed me. Just killed me. I still think we are going to win the Title but I am a lot more nervous about playing the suns in the Finals now than a week ago.

Anyway, I guess I am out for a while. I am fixing to go riding around drinking beer with my dad. When I say "riding around drinking beer with my dad" I mean my dad wants to drive out to the lake and show off his car, and I am going to buy a six pack and tag along. When I return I will call Little E and see what we have in order for this evening. Peace out to all the homies.

Uppers and Downers or; I love the smell of napalm in the morning...It smells like...victory.

I just received my grades for this semester: ALL FREAKING B'S. Just kidding. I once again received all A's to bring my final cumulative Master's study GPA to 3.973. Thank You Very Much to the Professor who I admire more than almost any other professor. He felt it necessary to B me in my very first semester of Grad school because I balked when he asked me write my final paper over a topic related to a special issue of his journal. I was scared to death and wanted to stick to my own idea which I thought was fabulous. He, however, did not agree, although, it is under submission to Film Quarterly and when it is published I am going to mail it to him with a reply that matches his snotty comments on my draft, and his snotty advice for surviving grad school during that semester of grad school.

Here is a little life lesson for those of you pursuing the dream that is higher academia that is not in any book: When a professor suggests you write a paper over something, you write over said topic. End of Story. Sure you may be able to eek out an A but don't risk it, dude. No matter how great your Foucauldian reading of the power of knowledge in Apocalypse Now is, they will freaking B you if they can, and they can. Trust me. You have no recourse. What are you going to do, Challenge the grade? That would be a great way to secure the chance of you never getting a recommendation from ANY professor in the department. Takes the feeling of crapulence to a whole new level.

I am never drinking again. EVER. Unless some one wants to celebrate tonight. However, I am struggling right now. I hope no one wanted the left over Malibu Rum because I drank it at the pool yesterday. The fiancee is also giving me the evil eye because I am a bit...drunk I guess is the word, and she is all gung ho about packing. It is strait up 11 o'clock in the morning...still smashed.

I guess I should be packing and not blogging but what are you going to do.

******* Addendum*******

I think I gave myself stomach, liver, and/or brain damage during my little binge. I have felt a bit "off" since the week long binge of alcoholic debauchery, and have since forsworn alcohol much to my brother's chagrin. However, I went on three job interviews today and received three job offers. Two car dealerships and one insurance company as a claims writer/underwriter. Not exactly sure what that means but hey it pays. I am thinking of taking one of the said jobs while applying to several high school teaching gigs and using the first job to pay the bills until beginning the teaching gig in August. One of the things Schools do not tell you is that you do not get paid until September 28th or October 1st. What a bummer. That would be four months with NO pay for those of you counting. (Yes, Four: June, July, August, September). So much for my dreams of living high on the hog during the summer on my fabulous teaching salary...

I am officially done with my Master's of Arts in English.

I took my last final and turned in my last paper that counts for credit toward my MA in English. May the drunken debauchery commence.

Backing the Bard; or In Defense of Shakespeare

Recently I have felt compelled to to come to the aid of slick Willie. Some of my compadre's have painted a rather unflattering portrait of our Shakespeare class. To be honest this class is not that bad. Trust me it is much better than Naps 1660-1830 I took with another British Lit professor here on campus. Let me say this: The first day of class in Comtemporary British Literature was NOTHING compared to the British Lit 1660-1830 class I took with him before he learned the meaning of the word "discussion."

Said class was labeled Naps 1660-1830 because that was all I did while the professor talked...at great length...without letting anyone get a word in edgewise...while droning on in a monotone voice. Suffice to say if we put the so called ass whippery (and this class does provide a great deal of ass whippery) of Shakespeare up against the ass whippery of Naps 1660-1830 the aformentioned Naps course would simply fuck Shakespeare to death. Naps would bend this course over and proceed to violate said course in a manner so unmentionable it would bring tears to yours eyes, and force you to beg to have said Shakespeare course back. It, simply, is no comparison.

It is given that this class has been somewhat of a drag at times because of other "lesser academics" (to steal J's phrase). I don't like the cat who plagiarizes or the high school teachers who are seemingly clueless, or the one of the "three drunk motherfuckers" who seems to talk endlessly about connections to other texts no one has read" (just so other members of the class do not feel nervous thinking I am talking about them let me be clear I am talking about myself here). However, things could be worse. We usually have been drinking before class and every thing sucks in comparison to alcohol. I think alcohol, more than anything, has colored this class negatively.

With that being said, onto a few other things:

• I am still graduating, bitches. The drunken debauchery will continue unabated until at least May 14th. Anyone wishing to participate at any juncture should merely contact me at home or in the office. I have to finish my Shakespeare paper (which is taking much longer than it should, and is becoming much too long) and the final but after that it is on like donkey motherfucking kong, bitches, until Sunday. Also, my brothers will be in town on Friday and will attempt to kill me in a typically Irish/Saxon fashion of over indulgence in alcohol. As previously stated anyone wishing to participate...
• Sometime last summer, I applied to join an government agency that "protects America's interests at home and abroad" as somewhat of a lark. After conducting background checks for the last few months, said agency called me last friday wishing to schedule an interview. I have to call them back.
• I had fun on Friday drinking and hanging out with Little E and her Husband. We must do this again. However, a certain other graduate student's wierd actions/responses about/during Friday were unexpected. Said grad student is really becoming a drag, and quickly getting closer to my "ignore/avoid at all costs" list.
• I need to finish Golems of Gotham, and I will shortly Little E, but probably not until Wednesday night. Sorry, but school stuff comes first. We can discuss it on Thursday if you are are still up to helping me pack. I will still buy the booze.

I urge each and everyone of you to Be Cool, Ladies and Gentlemen, because this could quite possibly be the last post from Lost in Space for quite a while. I will be moving back home to my mother's house until I can rennovate my own, and I forsee being disconnected for a short time. Those of you who are cool know who you are, and you will hear from me. Those of you who don't here from me, well...

www.hangover.com, bitches.

Drinking a 30 pack is NEVER a good idea. Trust me on this. It is, however, Cinco De Mayo, and if anyone wants to party, I am down.

Lists, Lists everywhere, but not a single one to read...

I have not started on my Shakespeare paper. Nor will I. I will not stay up late to write it, nor will I say repeatedly I am going to get started, or make excuses when I do not. I am simply not going to start it until Monday. I am going to drink beer tonight, tomorrow night, and possibly Saturday sometime if I can con the fiancee into it some how. Texas Ranger baseball on Saturday anyone? J, I am looking directly at you on this one. My ol' lady is crafty though when it comes to thwarting my alcoholic aspirations. However, my will to drink right now is so sharp it could cut glass. That's right bitches my alcoholism knows no bounds. I do have to pack/clean my apartment sometime before next Saturday. Not happening this week/weekend though.

More Random Shit about Me:

• I once hit someone so hard it split them open so badly they had to have the wound stitched in three layers from the inside out totaling 37 stitches. He also nearly lost his right eye. One Punch. Luckily, he hit me with a police issue flip stick first, and that made my retaliation self defense. The guy that used to instruct me at boxing once told me that, "I have legitimate heavy weight knockout power and that I should never hit anyone without a boxing glove because it could possibly kill them." That guy I hit at Cowtown USA could attest to that.
• I love the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I am currently listening to their new song Dani California. I firmly believe they are the most underrated rock band of all time. They are one of the few bands that has a sound all their own. I admire that. They also have never had a bad album (not even when Navarro joined the band). Said Navarro album was not "authentic Chili Pepper Music" but it was far from bad. I am glad Frusciante got cleaned up and rejoined the band, however, and this is not knock on Navarro, because I think he is a talented musician, but I think Frusciante makes the Chili Peppers sound like they should. It would have been very sad if John had died from an OD. I also think that any member of that band would be fun to just kick it with. Kiedis was fab in Point Break.
• Speaking of which, Point Break is a vastly underrated 90's action movie. It is also the last good movie that Patrick Swayze starred in. I know that Patrick Swayze and "good movie" don't usually go together but he was in some good movies such as Road House, Next of Kin, and Donnie Darko. Note: I refuse to acknowledge Dirty Dancing as good movie so don't even try it.
• You have to visit the "Geoffrey Chaucer Hath a Blog" link to the right, and read the pick up lines translated into old english. My favorite one: "Art thou a disastrous poll tax? Bycause I feele a risynge comynge on." Fabulous.
• Little E and I need to begin construction/completion of our literary blog.
• I don't want to have to find a job outside of academia. I also have serious doubts that I could function outside of academia because I have become so spoiled by the atmosphere of graduate school.
• I love baths. I take one everyday. A hot tub will be one of the first purchases I make once I get a real job. I also read in the bath tub quite a bit, and I wish I had one of those really deep tubs that was not connected to the wall so I could buy one of those reading trays that span from one side of the bath tub to the other. Anyone considering a smart ass remark about my love of reading/bath trays should reread the first post of this list.

I will now go drink 10-20 beers and not think about papers/work. If only I combine my drinking aspirations with fishing I would be in heaven.

Everyone seems to be including lists of quirky little facts about themselves in their blogs. Since I have a paper to write and I will do anything to procrastinate I decided to do the same.

Random Shit:

• I don't sleep with anything other than a top sheet and a comforter on my bed. I also never make my bed. When asked why I do not make the bed I usually respond that it is pointless to make it because you will just sleep in it the next night. The real reason I do not make the bed is that I like to lay in bed periodically throughout the day and I end messing it up when I make it. I also spend probably an average of 8-10 hours a day sleeping/laying in bed. I read in bed, I watch tv in bed, play Madden NFL 2005 and NCAA 2005 in bed, and I sometimes just lay in bed with the covers over my head because I am depressed/lazy. I love my comforter. When I get married the hardest adjustment I will have to make is possibly giving up my comforter, and sleeping under a pile of freaking covers. You do not realize how hard this is going to be on me.
• I am pack rat. I have a very hard time throwing anything away. I get this from my grandpa. This is not so much of a problem except for the fact that I just leave shit randomly laying around, and it makes my place look like a pigsty. I can't force myself to pick it up or throw it away. I still have handouts given to me in high school, and a good bit of my school work from elementary school because I am afraid to throw it away. I also horde certain items like paper towels, toilet paper, and underware. I have freaking tons of underwear. I get this from my grandma who used to have a special set of underware for every set of clothes she wore, and she used to buy me two new packs of underwear each month.
• I, like Little E, adore lists. I think lists are the most primitive form of the archaeology of knowledge but I wished everything was written in list form. I think this is why I love sports websites so much because they utilize lists more than any other medium. It is always "the ten best this or that."
• I love anything cold/frozen/slushy. I used to be late for high school almost every morning because I would drive 20 minutes out of my way to buy a pina coloda slurpee at the 7/11 in Arlington on Green Oaks Blvd. I also eat a ton of sno cones. I don't know why but I really do not like sweets unless they are frozen or extremely cold. I would also like to qualify this a bit because I love peanut butter. However, I don't consider it a sweet but a fruit/vegetable.
• Growing up I always thought I would be a priest or a preacher, and I always feel like my life is a failure because I have turned my back on my calling. I believe in God, but I have never forgiven him for giving my grandmother alzheimers. I also think that her sickness was a Job like test that I failed. I also do not speak to God much anymore, and the first time I spoke with him since I was in my teens was when my fiancee got sick last April. I also felt guilty asking him to help her because I know it was not for her sake, but for my own selfish reasons. I love her and need her and I simply could not lose her. I also do not understand his plan, and this makes me very angry at him because I think he makes humans suffer needlessly. I also feel he listens to me when I talk to him, and that he does not listen to everyone who talks to him. I feel I have a priviledged place in his plan but I feel like crap most of the time because reject his plan because I am so angry at him. So I feel like a constant failure/disappointment.
• Unlike J, I don't consider myself a likeable person. In fact I know most people do not like me, and I am ok with this. I am angry, arrogant, self righteous, and a know it all. You know what though? I am cool with this. I like me, and I am not changing myself to please others. I also take solace in the fact that in a room full of people I am usually the smartest person in the room, and I can usually beat most of the people up in the room at any given moment. Even if they gang up on me.
• I suffered serious physical abuse as a child. I am proud of this. In a sick sort of way I take pride in the fact that I know no matter what happens nothing can be worse than being hit in the face with a belt so hard that it splits your forehead, and lip so badly that my lip still cracks where it was split everytime it gets cold, or my lips get dry. I also do not allow children to be spanked/hit in my presence. I do not care if they are you kids or not.
• I don't write that well. I am terrible with grammar/style. I also write like I talk. I have doubts as to my long term ability to become a professor. While I am smart and have creative ideas I usually struggle to translate them into writing. I am also a perfectionist which is why I believe I procrastinate so much when I write. If I wait until the last minute then it does not have to be perfect. In my own gorilla logic this makes sense to me.

I think this is enough revelation for one day. I have to finish my paper now, but first I am going to home and act like I am sleeping for about 45 minutes. I will then get up and write my paper.

Well, when things are going well...

Well I heard from KA today. I did not get the job. They said "my ties to Texas conflict with the obligations/responsibilities of the position." My reluctance to leave my fiancee, or more specifically, my refusal to forgo my obligations to her medical treatment seem to be the mitigating factor here. Oh well the ol' lady and I are a package deal so fuck'em. To be honest there is always a sense of rejection that comes with something like this, but I don't think I really wanted the job.

At first I was a bit hurt, but now I am more relieved than anything, because although the money would have been nice the prospect of actually doing the job seemed like an asswhip. All I have thought about since the interview is that I would not be teaching anymore. I like hanging out with other smart kids talking about lit (shout out here to Little E) and the prospect of leaving those two things behind bummed me out more than not getting the job. I think it may end up for the best.

However, I have applied a few other places so let's hope they pan out. Specifically, every pray that I get the job with NFL.com I applied for last week. It is as a PR/News Assistant in Culver City, CA. That would be awesome. I have decided that if I leave academia that I am only going to leave it for a position in the world of sports (more specifically football if possible). I am leaning heavily toward calling my old football coach and seeing if he can hook me up with a job.

I think I may be better off coaching ball somewhere, and yelling at kids. I could do that for a couple of years and then start applying for college coaching positions. I am not real sure where I am going from here but it will either be a PhD program such as Purdue, or something related to sports. We will see.

A Quick Note Here:

All commenters are officially banned from the "don't worry it will all work out in the end" and "things always happen for a reason" spiels. I don't need nor want sympathy and I know things will be ok. I am just venting here. Worst comes to worst I will adjunct, get married, rebuild my 70 model Harley Sportster, road trip with my dad to Sturgis next summer, and then my start my PhD at Purdue, or some other program in the fall of '07.