Original Thought Fail

So I was laying (lying?) in my bed late at night thinking. I was thinking about video games, and in particular how one controls them. Its pretty interesting (at least to my fatigue-addled brain) how moving one's thumbs can control a myriad of activity on a screen.

Nowadays, though,  the enlightened gamer has more than just the option of buttons. With the advent of the Wii, gamers saw for the first time motion transformed into virtual activity (Nintendo Power-Glove notwithstanding). This set me to thinking again.

If we can make video games that force people to move around and perhaps even exercise, couldn't we put a dent in our nationwide obesity epidemic? In fact, with the popularity of online gaming, there could be organized matches set up where fitness would give you an advantage. Beating other people would then become the motivation for being fit. By golly this could be a revolution!

A full 5 minutes after this fit of idealism, I realized my revelation already had a name: Organized Sports.

It's A Wonderful Life

It's Christmas Eve, and it's just about my bedtime. Haven't gone to bed before midnight in quite some time, but I anticipate being woken up by my sister fairly early tomorrow morning.

Anyway, I just watched "It's A Wonderful Life" (yeah, I teared up at the end) and I figured I should try to make the internet a slightly more cheerful place and express a bit of the happiness and contentment I'm feeling. Yay to friends, food, presents, rest, Christmas lights, Vince Gauraldi, snow, candles, the Grinch, carols, even family. I'm not really in it for the whole Jesus aspect of the holiday, but something celebrating peace and goodwill to man sounds pretty good to me. In all sincereness, have a wonderful holiday, everyone. Merry Christmas.

Hulu and the Problems it Causes

Many of you probably already know what Hulu.com is, but for those who don't I will endeavor to explain. Hulu.com (as well as a few other similar sites) stream video over the Internet. This means that you can watch The Office or Family Guy on your computer. Hulu consequently appeals to people like me whose parents refuse to pay for more than a few TV channels (or a reasonable sized TV for that matter).

My newfound addiction to Hulu.com has provided me with more than a few problems, only a couple actually related to the website itself:

-First, it doesn't work well with the Internet at my college, so no Daily Show instead of homework

-The way Hulu pays for its content is advertising; one episode is brought to the viewer by one product. And since there is only one product, there is only one commercial. At one point, I watched the same 30 second commercial about KY warming lube 10 times over the course of one movie.

-Since I have a laptop, I have taken to watching videos in bed. And sometimes while I'm watching, I like to eat delicious food. I am thus faced with the task of trying to eat Rice Krispies with bananas, while navigating a website in a reclining position. Needless to say, my loins have been sprayed with liberal amounts of rice, krispies, bananas, and milk.

That being said, Hulu is a lovely website and services like it are certainly the future of video media. THE END

Me? A Nerd?

Thought you all might enjoy:


Oh flowcharts.

Red Bull Gives You Wings. And the Urge to Hurt Things that Can't Feel Pain

I entered the fray of finals and have emerged, not necessarily victorious, but alive at least. That being said, finishing finals and still being at college is awful. I'm stuck waiting for Wednesday while my hall-mates hop in their cars and drive a quaint hour home. Its like waking up on christimas morning, being all excited for presents, stumbling into the bathroom to take a morning pee, and then becoming inexplicably locked in the bathroom until 4:00 pm.

The only thing making this dismal limbo bearable is Girl Talk (youtube it if you're unenlightened) and my subwoofer. Also Arizona Iced Tea.

Yesterday I discovered I am sensitive to Caffiene. I had approximately three energy drinks in the course of 8 hours, and consequently felt the urge to punch things. Inanimate objects seemed to threaten me by merely existing. Also I don't think there has ever been uttered a fiercer string of obscenities than the one I directed at a Spanish homework assignment.

I'm thinking that over break me and Cam should alternate paragraphs and write a collaborative story. I'm betting this will entail less work than a regular posting schedule. If you're so inclined tell me what you think of such an idea.

Speaking of Useless Knowledge

Somewhat tellingly, a post as well-researched as the following could only happen when I've spent more than half of the last 72 hours in a self-imposed exile, trying to study but only succeeding only in finding really creative ways to be unproductive. Things I have done instead: watched a lot of episodes of 30 Rock (Alec Baldwin is a god amongst men), explored a freakin' creepy basement, read Ender's Game (for the first time, actually... wow), and watched Pan's Labyrinth (also really good). Finally, yesterday I upgraded to the St. Elba equivilant on campus, the (gasp!) WiFi-less chapel. Sadly, shortly after I arrived and got set up, I realized I actually needed the internet for research, and returned with a sigh to my previously-posted-about nook in the library.

Anyway, in my endless trawling of the internet, I came across the following term: liberticide, which is a destroyer of liberty. Inspired by the slightly unlikely existence of this word, I went fishing for more words about killing, and came up with the following: Vulpicide, Dominicide, Vaticide, Vermicide, Uxoricide, Deicide, Tyrannicide, Lampricide, Giganticide. What do they mean? Take a guess if you're feeling adventurous, or just skip down to my amusingly annotated definitions below.

- Vulpicide: The killing of a fox by means other than hunting with hounds. (Why is this word needed? How AWESOME is it that this word exists?!)
- Dominicide: The act of killing a master.
- Vaticide: The killing of a prophet. (Wouldn't a great headline be: Vaticide at the Vatican?)
- Vermicide: A substance killing worms.
- Uxoricide - The killing of one's wife (Personally, I think this would make a great band name.)
- Deicide: The killing of a god. (Which is, actually, the name of a band.)
- Tyrannicide: The killing of tyrants. (And don't tell me you didn't think for one second it was about dinosaur murders. Don't lie like that.)
- Lampricide: A substance that kills lampreys. (Another misnomer. For one brief, glorious moment, I thought someone had come up with a word for killing lamps and forced it into the accepted vernacular.)
- Giganticide: The killing of a giant. (Hurray! Not a misnomer!)

On a final, triumphant note, I would like to say that I have finally fixed the damn Blogger clock! Muahaha! No longer shall our posts be on Pacific Time! Honestly, you readers have no idea how much this bothered Nathan and I.

Test Your Knowledge

Rather than rant to you about meaningless things, today I'm going to make you feel stupid for not knowing meaningless things. This is a quiz about AXE body spray, which has existed since 1983 in France but came to America right around the time I became socially conscious (2002). 

See if you can match the product description to the product name. I did not make any of this up; it is from that veritable mine of knowledge, Wikipedia, so you know its true. Go ahead try it (highlight inside parantheses for answers).

A. Pulse   B. Essence   C. Touch   D. Unlimited   E. Clix   F. Vice   G. Dark Temptation   H. Instinct   

Man: part good, part bad. An angel and yet a demon. (B)

According to the commercial, this fragrance will allow you to do limitless stunts and Jackie Chan-esque Kung-Fu (D)

Might make you into chocolate. This is good because then women will nibble on you. (G)

Gets women excited, simply by looking at the man wearing this scent (C)

 It gives geeks confidence, as well as sweet dance moves to impress the ladies (A)

Makes men so attractive, they need a mechanical counter to keep track of how many girls ogle them. (E)

Turns normal females into crazed nymphomaniacs. (F)

This scent is said to contain the smells of "Rare Leathers" [such as armadillo leather] (H)

ok I made up the bit about the armadillo leather

Nooks and Crannies

It's finals time up here at St. Lawrence as well. While I only have one actual final, my other classes compensated by assigning lots of essays due over the next week, which is definitely less stressful but definitely more work. Indeed, got a 12 page research paper for American Politics due at 5:00 this evening, hence me sitting in the library at 10 AM on a Friday.

The library, however, is swiftly growing on me. It's sort of the architectural equivalent of sweat pants: ugly as hell, but fairly cozy. It's a massive building, full of vibrantly painted study rooms, trees, these odd elevated cubicles in which you have the interesting opportunity to be bored and procrastinating 10 feet above everyone else, and ridiculously comfortable and numerous couches and armchairs. There may some books as well. Seriously though, some enterprising soul took it upon themselves decades ago to scatter vast numbers of lounge chairs in unlikely corners of our library, and I shall forever be in their gratitude. So here I am, surrounded by microfilm that I seriously doubt ever has been or will be disturbed, the ugliest carpeting the 70's could dredge up, bombshelter-esque cement walls, and, redeemingly, a huge window allowing me to look at the snowstorm dancing outside. It's actually quite nice to sit here and procrastinate, listening to my atmospheric Icelandic music and wondering where the hell that photocopier sound is coming from. I just wish the motion-sensor lights would quit shutting off.

Empty Classrooms and Empty Souls

So I'm writing this in an empty classroom all by my lonesome presumably studying for a psychology final. Being at a college where finals are imminent is similar to being in a war-zone: mostly mind-boggling boredom punctuated by brief moments of bowel shaking "excitement".

There is only so long I can look at words in a book before I am gripped by the urge to see how many consecutive desks I can clear in one jump (even if the last attempt left me with colorful bruises).

The bastards in the room next door started an eraser fight in which I was dragged into. The flurry of dusty barrages was ceased on account of poignancy, when me and some kid I don't know threw erasers at each other from across the room. Both erasers hit each other in mid-air and released a plume of dust which slowly settled in the center of the battle field. It was like that floating plastic bag scene in American Beauty.

I figured out how to hook up cable tv to the projector in a lecture hall. There goes an hour.

Tiled floors and socks. Need I elaborate?

At one point I got locked out of my classroom and needed campus safety to unlock it. As we passed another room with only a male and female inhabitant inside, the campus safety guy asked me "Were they makin' out or something?" I responded with my best straight face "Looks like they were studying. On the floor." He snorted "Studyin' my ass. He was studyin' her eyes."

Nintendo 64

In my hallway, one could find a Xbox 360, Wii, PlayStation 2 & 3, and in my room, a Nintendo 64. If I had to pick between any of these, I'd honestly pick the N64. The pixels may be fist-sized, there's no online gameplay, and there's a whole host of other problems, I'm sure. However, for ingenuity of controllers, ease of troubleshooting, and quality of games, the N64 wins out.

First of all, N64 controllers are wonderful. They're simple, the right size, and comfortable to hold. The presence of a trigger is also something that most contemporary controllers sadly lack. Secondly, every problem the N64 has ever had can be solved by blowing into either the cartridge or the slot where the cartridge goes in. No "red ring of death" or anything like that. Most importantly, the games are wonderful. All of my favorite games are are fairly easy to get decent at, but can be played for hours upon hours and never quite mastered. My favorite games: Ocarina of Time, GoldenEye, Starfox, MarioKart, and Super Smash Brothers. I also enjoy Pokemon Stadium and Super Mario 64, but they don't quite make my top 5. Can't find that combination of games on any other platform. I rest my case.

Is it LSD or Just Me?

The first I heard of synesthesia was in a writing prompt included in a standardized test (Massachusetts Comprehensive Academic Something or Other test, to be precise). The admittedly dry and poorly written blurb spoke of a mysterious a neurologically based phenomenon. It results when a few neurons are crossed in one's brain, causing some funky stuff to happen. People with synesthesia may assign tastes to numbers, colors to letters, and visual images to sound. Sounds crazy, but its a well documented occurence. In order to better understand this "disorder" (in quotes because its more of a superpower anyways) I've taken the liberty of interviewing a man with synesthesia. His name is Sam.

ME: Hello Sam. Thanks for agreeing to do this.

SAM: Yeah, no problem. (Sam's pretty cool)

ME: So, synesthesia right? Can you explain what its like?

SAM: Do you know how in iTunes you can turn on the visualizer?

ME: Yeah...

SAM: Its nothing like that. Basically sounds manifest themselves as sight.

ME: Doesn't that get in the way of seeing things, like, if you're listening to a particularly rocking guitar solo in the car, do the note-splosions get in the way?

SAM: Note-splosions?

ME: Yeah, its the scientific term. Or whatever.

SAM: Actually it doesn't really work like that. Its more like I have a sixth sense; seeing sound is the best way I can describe it to a muggle like you.

ME: Did you just call me a muggle?

SAM: Don't worry about it

ME: Ok! So, whats the best looking sound you've ever heard?

SAM: That would be Samuel L. Jackson reading the new testament

ME: What? Are you serious?

SAM: No not at all. I just get really sick of interviewers asking that question. I told the lady from Readers Digest the best looking sound was the Tie Fighter noise from Star Wars.

ME: Oh Sam, you are quite the kidder. Everyone knows that sound is just a baby elephant squeal played in tandem with a car on pavement. (Totally true).

SAM: You know the sound of you casually dropping random facts to let everyone know how smart you are, looks black as death.

ME: Ha, like I said quite the kidder.

I'm aware this post wasn't the most informative of entries, but if your curiosity is piqued, you may want to check the wikipedia page (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synesthesia). It does a much better job of explaining than either me or Synesthesia Sam could do.

Coldness

I spent a considerable portion of yesterday telling anyone who would listen that overnight, the temperature was expected to drop to -3°, and -15° with windchill. In any case, I awoke at 8:00 this morning and flipped open my laptop, only to be greeted by my dashboard, informing me that it was currently -7° in Canton. With an unhappy little shriek, I realized I was about to have venture outside into these inhospitable conditions. Sure enough, it turns out that the body undergoes a positive whirlwind of physiological changes upon exposure to such conditions. My skin turned a splotchy white/purple, like a recent bruise. A very significant portion of my hair froze over the course of the literally 45 second walk to the student center (I made the mistake of showering before I left). My lips dried out instantly, and I can only guess what would have happened if I had opened my mouth. Worst of all, my ears stubbornly refused to go numb like the rest of my face, and stung miserably. Breathing become a labored, wheezing, affair. Furthermore, the snow becomes very squeaky at these temperatures, which gets annoying (Nathan? You know why? I'm clueless). In short, it was cold.

By the way, Nathan, we're waiting for you to get your act together and to write an interesting article about synesthesia.

Chiquita Bombs+Spikeballs

In case any of the people reading this are stalking me on Facebook, you should direct your attention to my profile where my co-author (He's MY co-author, I am not his) called me a bitch for my tardy posting. Let the record show that even though this blog's messed up clock says that I haven't posted in a day, it was in fact Cameron Lownie who neglected to post for a full 24 hours. That being said lets talk about something else I beat Cam at: Liero.

I'm not entirely sure how many people outside of Doherty Middle School have played the game Liero (Or its endless variations e.g. LieroV, Backstreet Boys Liero, Pogs Liero) but I figured it deserves a mention. Liero is a 2-D video game played on a PC in which two to four worms are pitted against each other in a fight to the death. Naturally each player controls a worm as well as its arsenal of weapons. Weapons such as Gatling guns, ridiculously overpowered rifles, shotguns, and bouncy mines are among the choices, with more insane weapons added to later versions. 

In the original version my strategy consisted of a deadly cocktail of chiquita bombs (exploding banana bunches) and spikeballs (spike balls), as well as a subtle mastery of the ninja rope (used by pressing the jump button and change weapon button at the same time), which allows a player to grapple about the level . Many a Liero player's last vision before respawning was my worm descending on a ninja rope spewing spikeballs and oddly cheerful yellow bombs.

Adding to the mystique of this wonderful game is the fact that I could never get it to work on my home computer. Even though us middle schoolers had to figure out complicated ways around the proxy server for the computers in the Doherty library, (I believe that me and my friends were cause for 90% of our school's system crashes) Liero always worked. Never being able to play it outside of middle school ensured that my time spent brutally maiming other players' worms would always remain an untainted and happy childhood memory.

Wikipedia

I don't know exactly what percentage of my life I've spent on Wikipedia, but it's fairly sizable. In just the past two of days, I have looked up the following: The Last Waltz (a concert video of The Band by Martin Scorsese), Joe Higgs (excellent reggae artist), Deal or No Deal (wanted to see if it was as deplorably dumb as it appeared), and Nalgene (have those outdoorsy/hippy types ever abandoned a product more swiftly?). Imagining life without the Internet is difficult enough, but to think that Wikipedia was created just seven years ago is mindboggling.

Anyway, a bit more than a month ago it was brought to my attention that it is extremely amusing to alter Wikipedia articles. I have no idea why this is so, but trust me, it's fun. An early endeavor involved adding 'Love' to the ingredient list of Swedish fish (which is clearly accurate - how else can you explain their deliciousness?). The really interesting aspect of this is the rapidity with which the articles are restored to their former boring but accurate selves. The aforementioned Swedish Fish alteration was removed in a matter of minutes. Currently, I have asserted that Samuel L. Jackson was approached to provide the voice of God in an audiobook version of the New Testament (which is actually true) because "producers felt his voice actually resembled the booming baritone of the Lord." Half an hour after this edit was created, it stands tall. The people who fix these things are really amazingly diligent, however, and I somewhat doubt that it will survive the night. We shall see.

Interestingly, Samuel L. Jackson is the only the second most popular Samuel L on Wikipedia. Beating him out is Samuel L. Bodine, a Senator from New Jersey in the 40s.

A Few Collected Thoughts

My amount of homework and my willingness to blog are directly proportional.

What kind of sick person would put a gravestone store next to the senior citizen housing my grandmother lives in? (Completely true)

Apparently 5 years of bagged lunch residue has the same chemical makeup as explosives. The TSA has made a tradition of apprehending it at every available opportunity. They grab it and swab it with those little cloths, then frown at the results. Then they eventually give it back, and I show my displeasure by sighing audibly at them.

Michael Caine's portrayal of Scrooge in "A Muppets Christmas Carol" should have won an academy award.

You know how that not-entirely-logical fear-gas-water stuff in Batman Begins had to be vaporized to be effective? I feel bad for the people of Gotham who picked that night to have a hot shower, and as a result, developed an intense and inexplicable fear of shampoo.

This is just a filler piece. I think I'll write a real blog post soon.
Possibly on Muppets, or that disorder where you can see sound.

My Opinion: TV Shows

I reckon that if I can't go posting my opinions on random subjects is sort of the point of having a blog, so here goes: my list of my 5 favorite TV shows of the past 15 years, in no particular order.

- Lost
- Scrubs
- Freaks and Geeks
- Arrested Development
- The Office

Not a terribly ambitious list, just my five favorites. Very very difficult to leave Mystery Science Theater 3000 off the list, but it was best before the 15 year cut-off. Another omission I had to make was The Daily Show, since it's not really a show in same sense as the others. That definitely would have made my list of 5 favorites, and would narrowly have missed out on the following: my list of the 5 best TV shows of the past 15 years.

- The Simpsons
- Seinfeld
- The Sopranos
- The Wire
- The X-Files

It's true, there is no overlap. No idea what that says about my taste, but there you go. Just missing out on the 5 best list are Lost, South Park, Battlestar Galactica.

Thoughts? Disagreements? Post a response!

Not Hallucinations, Just...Floaters

Like Cam, I too am back from a lovely break, and as such, must return to posting semi-regularly. On a self-laudatory note, this blog broke 1000 page views last week, and is well on the way to 2000. I'm not really sure how impressive that is relative to the rest of the Internet, and I think at least 300 are just from me alone, but whatever.

I'm sure by now you are wondering what the title of this post means. It was this same power of curiosity that brought me to discover the eponymous secret of the Floaters. Have you ever gazed up at the sky on a day when it was particularly blue and bright? If you have, you may have noticed little specks dashing in front of your vision. Try as you may to follow them, they seem to skitter away from your gaze. I always thought it was one of the many odd imperfections of my body, but driven by my thirst for knowledge, I now know it is instead a real documented phenomenon. 

I tried to find a scientific name, but apparently people just call them floaters. Whatever. Anyways, they're caused by bits of cellular debris (parts of you that fell off) that are quite literally floating around in your eyeball. This explains why they skitter away from your field of vision. To look at them, you have to move your eyeball, but they're IN your eyeball so they move too! (I'm aware this may only be amusing/make sense to me).

So next time you think your sense of sight is broken, don't worry its just dead cells chilling in your eyeball.

Long Time, No Blog

After a week of friends, family, and food, I am back at St. Lawrence, where it is snowing. Nice six hour drive to get up here, but at least I dodged most of the bad weather that seems to have plagued the Northeast today. Although Thanksgiving is possibly my least favorite holiday (No presents + lots of relatives = meh), seeing everyone back home was awesome, and I had a lovely break. Anyhoo, no real topic today, just some assorted thoughts and suggestions.

DO listen to Damien Rice. I did a lot of that on the long car ride I had today, and his voice is second to none. Standout tracks include: The Blower's Daughter, Lonelily, Cannonball.

DO NOT neglect your school email for the whole of break. You may have a poster and two page essay due Monday morning.

DO watch Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. Produced during that strike we had last year, it's a mostly funny but then abruptly serious 45 minute production that you should probably take the time to watch. Who knew Neil Patrick Harris could sing? What percent of the readership knows who he even is? (Doogie Howser, M.D. for the record)

DO NOT excitedly show all your college friends a video you made with your high school friends. They might not find it as funny as you expect, although if your college friends are nice like mine, they'll still chuckle appreciatively.

DO find a way to sign Varitek, Theo. Please.

DO NOT allow the theme song to Reading Rainbow to get stuck in your head, as my roommate has done. He says it's because a cousin watched the show a lot over Thanksgiving, but I'm dubious.

Its Good to be Back

Drat, Cam managed to post twice in a row. I thought we had a mutual agreement of laziness. Oh well. Coincidentally, I am also home for the week, and can attest to the frigidity of his mother and his house. (Although she made me dinner so I can't really complain).

Anyways, I flew home to Andover from Pittsburgh, and before we even left the tarmac it was like being home. A large bearded man clad in Boston paraphernalia strolled onto the flight just as I had sat down. He immediately sniffed around (detecting the aroma of McDonald's) and exclaimed "Alright, who's got the fries? I'm wicked hungry!"

I chuckled to myself, reveling in the pure Massachusetts air this man gave off. In a mood of benevolence I called to him "I don't have any fries but I've got some pop-tarts." He turned lightning quick (forcing the people around him to take seats they weren't planning on taking). "Strawberry?" He asked. "You know it," I called back. I tossed him the package, and through the grunts and tearing of plastic I could hear "Oh god yes, they're frosted."

*Sniff. Brought a tear to my eye. I missed you Massachusetts.

It's Cold

Well, I hadn't expected to be posting much while I'm on break, and yet here I am. It's been lovely so far, I've slept 12 hours both nights and gorged myself on homemade food. However, I figured that by coming back to Andover I would be escaping the frigid conditions that have been such a mainstay of my college life. However, yesterday the wind chills were down in the teens, and today seems only a little better. Worsening the situation is the fact that my mother, dear to me as she is, has gone a little crazy in the time that I've been gone, and my house now resembles an igloo. At night, she sets the thermostat at 52°, and 57° during the day. Neither of these temperatures are in the least bit warm. I went to sleep last night in a sweatshirt, flannel pajama pants, and woolen socks, and utilized two additional blankets. I've decided that people get to a certain age, and suddenly start having these bizarre ideas that they are convinced are brilliant, not unlike the decision-making that plagues some of my college acquaintances late Saturday nights (Dude! Why has no one ever tried eating pizza in the shower before? It makes it so much better!). The difference is, adults have the means to turn some of their odder ideas into realities, like when a certain father of mine decided that he was a capable electrician and started drilling in a manner that resulted in a plume of water erupting under my desk, to my considerable consternation. Anyway, I'm going to go find a blanket so I can watch the Pats game shiver-free.

Poor Tom

Sadly, I can't compete with a story like that. But I will, of course, try. This did happen just today, though I'm not sure if I can do it justice, seeing as I'm not positive exactly what happened:

Three doors down (yes, like the band) from me live Corey and Tom. They are very well suited towards each other; both are staunch republicans, smoke cigars, usually wear dress shirts and slacks, have stock investments, and the like. Very nice guys. Anyway, Tom can frequently be found on conference calls with people, and is frequently sent free things by both Microsoft and Apple for testing he does for them. He's bizarrely smarter in the field of computers than any 18 year-old should be. So today he's been quite depressed, because his former employees stole his plan for... something, and have made thousands. It's some website that he had dreamed up, and without telling him several people who used to work for him started it up. Apparently they're poised to make a million dollars in four years or something truly outrageous like that. I did not know that this happened at all in real life, let alone to college freshmen. My problems generally involve exams, convincing my DVD player to work, and trying to get better at basketball, not corporate intrigue. Gives things a little perspective, eh?

Anyhoo, I'm heading back to my homeland tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and I'm not sure how much I'll be posting over break. Have a nice weekend!

Pork Fried or Steamed?

Chinese food is delicious. This is a story chronicling my quest for Grove City Chinese food.

There is a Chinese food monopoly in Grove City, with Victor Lee being the only provider. He is said to be descended from General Tso himself. Fueled by such stories, my roommate Tim and I skipped out on a goofy semi formal dance to go and snag the late night discount.

As we walk in, it becomes evident that there is something unique to the atmosphere: the restaurant's decor is similar to an eccentric old ladies living room. The tables are scattered around haphazardly, and joined by a couch, a treadmill, and a TV playing Chinese soap operas right in the middle of the floor. Also what is clearly the family PC is set up on one of the booth tables. (This explains the "Free WiFi" sign).

We were waited upon by what looked like the matron of the family, and sat down to wait for our food. It eventually came, delivered by the eponymous Victor Lee. He is only around 5'1" but seems determined to make for height with enthusiasm. He made confusing small talk while repeatedly offering to set us up with a back room Texas hold'em game. Eventually he just sat down next to me and continued to chat. Victor then proceeded to get us free drinks and donuts (Chinese donuts?) which more than makes up for any possible poker hustling he may have had planned. He then began to give us in-depth microwave instructions for how to prepare our food after it had gotten cold. He seemed very experienced with heating up old Chinese food (Ignorance is bliss?).

As we eventually moved to pay him, he kindly rounded our meal down a few dollars, and just as we were about to leave, he said, "Do you two want a ride back to the college?" Tim looked astonished so I quickly answered yes before he could think of a logical objection. He told us to meet him around back. Tim and I made our way to the back of the restaurant to find Victor waiting with his beat up Nissan rice burner awaiting us. Tim hopped in front and I in the back. Any shotgun privileges were soon overshadowed by the addition of six or seven boxes of food on his lap.

For the next few minutes we assisted Victor Lee in delivering Chinese food to the more sketchy inhabitants of Grove City. Between every stop Victor would call the customer on his cellphone and ask him or her to meet him at the "usual place." The customers were surprised, I think, to have their food handed to them by a six foot three white freshman rather than our friend Victor. After a few stops we were back at our dorm. Victor sighed with nostalgia, "My best customer lived on your floor." We bid Victor farewell, thanked him, and walked into our dorm, smelling of Rangoon and MSG.

General Tso (Or possibly Victor Lee) and His Chicken

Got Flies In My Lights!

My bed is considerably lofted, leaving my head only a couple of feet diagonally from the main light for our room. As I was lying there reading a couple of nights ago, my attention was drawn to the number of black specks resting at the bottom of the light. These had been pointed out to me before, and I was told that they were insects. But last night I really pondered the situation. How did these bugs get a) into my room, where I have never seen a fly, or b) into the actual lighting fixture, which upon close inspection seemed quite airtight. I proposed this question to a friend, who responded that those were not actual insects, but rather larvae. This satisfied me for a time, until it occurred to me that larvae have no more a way to get into my light than their adult counterparts. As with the previous post, any explanations are welcome in the "response" section.

Recommendations for the day:
DO reread To Kill A Mockingbird. I did so last week, and it made me very happy.
DO NOT get into existential debates with drunk people. Not at all as amusing as you'd think.
DO listen to my radio show, 3-5 Tuesdays. Although next week I'll be on break and not DJing.
DO NOT do as I did and come to school in upstate NY without a ski jacket.
DO listen to the band Stars. A friend gave me a CD a while back, and I listened to it all the way through yesterday. Very artsy and cool.
DO NOT type like my friend Ethan, who missed a lesson somewhere along the way, and now instead of using the shift key like the rest of us, turns the caps lock function on and off every time he wishes to capitalize something.

Illogical Gun Placement

Has anyone else paid attention to where thugs in movies put their guns? It seems to me that a surprisingly large population put their guns in the waistband of their pants, right below the navel.

Is is just me or is this quite possibly the worst place a person making their living off of doing overly macho things could put a gun? I hope I don't have to spell out why this is, but imagine you are said thug, and find yourself needing to "pop a cap," so you reach under your shirt to get your gun. Everything is fine up to this point, but say a loose thread snags your piece. Suddenly you're frantically pulling on a gun aimed directly at your man bits. Not a good scenario.

If there are any street thugs reading this and haven't left already to shoot me, please explain this phenomenon in the comments.

Not where you want an explosive device 5

Robots In Disguise

So call me a nerd (or preferably call me awesome), but I really really like campy movies. Not a big fan of simply bad movies, but truly awful movies are quite entertaining. Back in high school I made a bit of tradition of watching late night original Sci Fi channel movies, which were utterly, spectacularly, terrible. Haven't had the time or the social confidence to be doing that so much since I got to college, though.

So when I was cruising around YouTube, watching a compilation of the best 80's cartoon shows (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3ayJ27RxU8&feature=related), I was delighted to find that some enterprising soul had uploaded the entire original Transformers movie. This, mind you, was not the recent live-action Transformers movie (which, considering the massive budget and cool effects, was surprisingly campy itself), but the 80's animated classic. This movie is notable in several ways. First of all, I remember watching it repeatedly when I was but a wee one, and thinking it was the coolest thing ever. Secondly, voices are provided by Eric Idle, Leonard Nimroy, Peter Cullen, Judd Nelson, and the great Orson Welles. Thirdly, this movie has the best synth-heavy 80's soundtrack this side of Flash Gordon (which I cannot recommend highly enough). Fourthly, it is a cartoon about robots fighting each other. A perfect recipe for a wonderfully terrible movie. Do watch it, you won't regret it. Or at least check out that little video given earlier, and revel in the glory of He-Man, the Thundercats, Inspector Gadget, and all the rest.

A Deep Question

You can't tell from the stupid "posted at" time given below, but I'm writing this at 2 in the morning and am mucho tired. So tired that I am apt to insert Spanish adjectives where they make little sense.

In my daily life I have come across one of those deep questions. You may have heard the question "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" My question is much more metaphysical, and practical as well. The question is:

Why do they make ketchup packets so small?

Has anyone not currently clinically insane or severely anorexic ever eaten less than two ketchup packets with a meal? I think not. Why must I be forced to grab a handful of packets when often a gogurt tube of ketchup would be appropriate? Alas I fear I am forever doomed to rip packet after packet open with my teeth, simply to allocate the correct amount of tomatoe paste to my burger.

Sidenote(s)- As I was searching for a picture of a ketchup packet I discovered I am regrettably not the first to lament the teensy packaging of ketchup. I'm going to stop writing now because I just remembered that I named the URL of this blog to account for occasions such as this.

Also the sound of one hand clapping is Cl-

My New Entourage

Right now I have 5 (5!) seniors from a Bronx high school in my room. I don't have a terribly large room. It is 2:13 in the morning.

I signed up to host 1 kid, just 1, from Thursday evening until 8:30 Friday morning. It didn't seem that demanding a task, and I got some free meals as a reward. There were 60 kids visiting in total, as a part of a program from an inner-city high school. All of us St. Lawrence hosts were asked to go to Sykes formal lounge at 6:00 to collect our pre-frosh.

However, admission seemed to run of of hosts, and I was the last St. Lawrence student to get called up to receive his prospective student. At that point, their were 3 students left instead of the expected 1. Admissions lady asked me to take all 3 to dinner until a new host could be contacted, at which point I would be called and my extra kids would be taken elsewhere. That never happened. Furthermore, these kids sort of formed large groups based on existing friendships, regardless of who was supposed to be staying with who. So I found myself as part of a sizable group for the evening, eating, playing pool, playing broomball, watching The Dark Knight, etc. The group was composed largely of African-American and Hispanic students from the Bronx, who seemed happy enough but somewhat baffled by their rural surroundings, and white St. Lawrence kids who were equally baffled to find themselves surrounded by street-smart teens. A couple of hosts seemed to give up and go to sleep, so eventually I found myself with 5 Bronx students under my watch. For the first, and probably last time, I found myself with a posse.

They are all in my room right now. My roommate Dylan just came in, and is chatting with them, taking some of the pressure off me. He was, um, surprised to find 5 times as many kids in his room as I had led him to believe would be, but handled it well. I think they all might plan on sleeping here. I've tossed some blankets and a sleeping bag on the floor, but I have no idea what is going to happen. There currently 2 of them on my giant purple bean bag. It all feels thoroughly surreal.

Also, they are drinking all my apple juice.

A Story of a Boy

Once upon a time there was a little boy. His name isn't really important, but what is important is that some years after this story, he texted me and got me out of my warm bed because I hadn't posted today. ANYWAYS....

This little boy was very happy because he was coming home from Disney Land. As he dozed in the back of his parents Ford Explorer, he was comforted by dreams of his stuffed animals waiting for him at home. As the car bounced over the initial bump of his driveway, he excitedly awoke. "Finally home!" he thought as he fumbled for his glasses. "Now I can do what I've been waiting all week to do!" What was that you may ask? It was to greet his beanie babies of course.

The little boy burst through his door, tearing through the darkened hall way. He sprinted up the carpeted steps to the second floor, and slid down the slick hardwood of the hall to his bedroom. Just as he was rounding the corner at top speed, there was a sickening thud and a blinding light before his eyes. The little boy had ran straight into the edge of his door!

His beanie babies looked on as his parents picked up the bleeding child, and began to make arrangements for the gaping wound in his head to be sewn up. He took his favorite snow leopard to the hospital with him.

THE END

Sean Connory and PCP

I've gotten into the habit lately of falling asleep with headphones in. I make a 6 or 7 song playlist on my iPod, and by the times it ends I'm almost always asleep. My roommate is generally on the phone during this period, and the headphones give those conversations a little more privacy. However, during the few seconds of silence in between songs, sometimes I pick up snippets of what he's saying. A couple of nights ago, I was in between Sufjan Stevens songs and jsut about asleep, when suddenly I hear Dylan say "It's like if suddenly in season 5 of 'The Office' Sean Connery played the Michael Scott role." Needless to say, my interest was piqued. That would be awesome! It wouldn't work at all, but Sean Connery is ridiculous and hasn't been in anything for forever. Sadly I wasn't able to establish the context. Sometime I'll have to ask him what that was about.

I want to leave you with is a little comedic sketch that I hadn't watched in at least a year, but then some people on the floor below me were watching some other sketches by the same group (The Whitest Kids U'Know) and it brought back memories. So here you go, enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ah7ApyeyneY&feature=related

A Day in the Mall

Ok everybody, who's been in a mall before? Yeah everybody, that's what I thought. You're all a bunch of conformists (except for those who just go to shop at hot topic). 

Malls are quite unique in a whole bunch of ways, and a lot of these bunches provide me with amusement. Take the aforementioned Hot Topic for example. Do I really want to express my individuality with care-bear shirts and black and purple hoodies? No thank you, I would much rather hang with those shirtless Hollister mannequins. (Sidenote: I just spelled mannequins right the first time. heck yeah! Also: google image turns up frightening things if you search "mannequin")

Did you know they scent their stores? Maybe everyone knew this, but I always thought everyone in there smelled the same (maybe they do, I don't know), and their combined scent wafted out into the main mall area. I recently discovered the actual store itself is scented like "Hollister." I've actually witnessed someone smell someone else and exclaim "You smell like Hollister!" OOH how exciting. 

I'm thinking now that I may have to include more on my musings about the mall because this little blurb doesn't really cover it. Maybe I'll do installments or something. Maybe I won't. Whatever, I'm making a pop-tart.

This is the Smell Portal-->

Accumulated Thoughts

- Turns out you should wash bandannas before you wear them for the first time playing basketball with your friends. If you don't wash it, you will end up with an interesting bright red sweat/dye band around the crown of your head. Good conversation starter, but nonetheless not particularly desirable.

- Nor, however, should new bandannas be placed in the washing machine in a load that contains your socks, apparently.

- I recently bought some TicTacs that were, upon closer inspection, past their expiration date. There was no noticeable difference.

- Been on the website Hulu.com lately. A touch corporate for my tastes, but still, it has tons of TV shows and some movies for free, with "limited" commercial interruption, available for viewing online. Really a wonderful tool of procrastination. Last night watched an episode of The A-Team, and was quite happy.

- Reread Anansi Boys, the novel by Neil Gaiman, this morning. Very highly recommended.

- I'm going to go play some intramural broomball in like an hour, and I anticipate being a true menace on the ice. You don't know what broomball is, you say (again, neither does my usually warm and receptive spellcheck)? I pity the fool. You're on ice, wearing sneakers, and have these only vaguely broom-like sticks with which you attempt to propel the ball into your opponents' goal. Good sport for those of us up here at St. Lawrence who are professional attendees at hockey games (our guys are currently 22nd in the country! women are 9th!) and daydream of glory in rink.

- Shameless self-promotion much? Tune into my radioshow Tuesdays 3-5!

Am I right? Am I right? Anybody??

I've listened to quite a bit of stand-up comedy, and one of the more common devices I've heard is what I call "Going out on a limb." That's when a comedian admits to doing something that no one else admits to but everyone secretly does. Then presumably the audience responds with  "Oh snap! I can't believe he admitted he did that, but now that its in the open I can laugh because I've done it too! Yay!"

But what happens when a comedian utterly fails? Its like a comedian gets so wrapped up in pandering to their audience that they go further and further until they're making fun of Mexicans (which is totally OK as long as they're not white or anything). Once, just once I want to see a comedian admit something so deviant that they just fall off the metaphorical tree branch. "I was so mad at that guy I could have just peed on him, you know?"

"Wait, I'm the only one?"

"Oh."

Zoo Gorilla 'Doing Well' After Colonoscopy

My homepage is CNN.com, and when I turned on my internet this morning, I saw that headline lurking in a position of some prominence. Who, I thought to myself, would ever click on that link? My general interest in colonoscopies is pretty much nil, and adding a large primate to the equation still doesn't quite pique my interest. And why, why on earth were there those single quotation marks around 'doing well?' What could that possibly be implying? So, of course, in the spirit of scientific inquiry I clicked on the story.

The good news, at least, is that Gigi seems to be doing well, and has recovered from her experience. She was put under anesthesia for the procedure, which was undertaken because she "was having digestive problems." The story was mysteriously silent, sadly, on why this was a newsworthy event. I'm sure that such procedures are far from common, but still.... it was the second story on CNN.com under the 'US News' heading. Come on.

R.I.P Michael Crichton

We have just found out that one of our favorite authors died Tuesday after having privately battled cancer. Michael Crichton was a visionary, a scientist, and an artist. Countless hours of our time were spent reading and rereading his books. Titles such as The Andromeda Strain, Congo, The Terminal Man, Sphere, and Jurassic Park made science cool.

"We've been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we're gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us."

-Michael Crichton in Jurassic Park

Perhaps there you were wrong, Mr. Crichton. The world will most definitely miss you. But even it didn't, those little boys, hell, those college freshmen, who stayed up late reading Prey sure will.

- Nathan and Cam

That Election Thing

I discovered last night that my usually trustworthy spellcheck fails to recognize 'Obama' as a word people may actually be intending to type, and instead suggests that I may be trying and failing to type 'Obidiah' or possibly 'Alabama.' It is even more baffled when I mention "Barack,' proposing that perhaps I meant 'Ba rack.'

Anyway, hard to post today without focusing on Barack Obama's victory last night. And you know, it wasn't even that close. McCain got totally blown out of the water. I don't want to broadcast my political views or anything, but I will admit that today I'm wearing a hawaiian shirt (again), humming Queen, and grinning at random passerby, which I acknowledge could be a sketchy combination.

A few favorite moments from the last few days of campaigning:
- Barack Obama saying "Brothers should pull up their pants."
- In the same interview where the above quip was delivered, Obama was asked "Boxers or briefs?" and declined to specify, but noted "Whichever one it is, I look good in them"
- Mark Salter (John McCain's senior aide), when asked how John McCain was getting through the last arduous day of the campaign, replied "Crystal meth" without missing a beat.

Clearly, though, the best moment of the election occurred last night on the CNN coverage of the election, when correspondents delivered their reports VIA HOLOGRAM.


I mean, come on. If that isn't the coolest thing to happen since the Fonz (who, for the record, my spellcheck does recognize), then I don't what is.

Fame and Fortune and Everything that goes with it

Everyone wants to be famous. If you don't, then you should talk to your therapist, because undoubtedly he does, and maybe you'll be the patient that makes him famous. Anyways!

I have recently refined how exactly I want to be famous. I want to be so well known as an actor, that I don't have to do real movies anymore. The only thing I would do is spectacular uncredited cameos in movies. "Yeah that teen comedy/action/generic crap movie was ok, the only really funny part was when Nathan Casto came out dressed as Boba Fett and....." you get the idea.

I'm pretty sure my dream will go unfulfilled though. Tom Cruise only got that hilarious cameo in Tropic Thunder because he's already Tom Cruise. If I could just skip the real career and go right to the good stuff that would be great.

Actually, I just want to be Christopher Walken.

Links 'Cause I'm Lazy

So today, I'm not feeling especially creative myself, so maybe I can follow Nathan's lead and direct you all (as though there are legions of devoted readers out there) to more entertaining corners of of the internet. I cruised around YouTube for some fun stuff yesterday, and I tried a novel approach: enter the most vague search terms I could, and see what I found. The results follow.

First I tried putting in "ridiculous" and got this video of a bouncing car:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFUiEAPOqBI&feature=related

Next, I typed in "awesome" and was rewarded with this montage of appropriately awesome things (and I apoligize for the irritating soundtrack some moron added to this video):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30GeJHYoerk

Finally, I typed in "parody" and found this one for anyone who a) is sick of Mac ads, or b) has been disappointed at McDonalds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XuJlGnqI6I&feature=related

This afternoon I'm going rock climbing, so if my posts cease you'll know what happened.

The Times they are a-Changin

It will be very difficult for me not to piggy-back on Cam's posts and simply poke fun of him instead of coming up with creative material. But that wouldn't be very nice.

So instead I'll reserve the fun-poking for the comments section (be sure to look at them, they might prove to be epic battlegrounds). That being said, this blog looks dead-sexy thanks to Cam's aesthetic and outdoorsy style, so thanks to Cam. This was going to be a short post, so I'll just leave you with a link that provided me with some amusement today.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABqh9N-Mw5E

A New Contributor? Yes!

Hello everybody! (Hi Doctor Nick! [Simpsons? Anyone?]) This is Cam Lownie, Nathan's friend and fellow rumpled, frisbee-tossing, wild-eyed blogger. We're thinking that from here on out, between the two of us we should be producing a post a day, ostensibly for your benefit, but really just because we like ranting.

Also, since unlike Nathan I have at least a vague appreciation for aesthetic appeal, I have reformatted the format to make it prettier. Hope you approve.

So. Daylight Savings Time ended last night, and we all got an extra hour of sleep. Personally, I've always been somewhat baffled by this whole thing, so I looked into the history. In WWI, DST was established to save electricty, but was then repealed when the war ended. Confusingly, DST observance then became a locally regulated affair, so that it could be a different time from one county to the next. Then, during WWII, Daylight Savings was observed year-round nationally, again to save electricty. Chaos reigned again after the war, with one 35 mile stretch between Ohio and West Virginia requiring seven clock resets. In the early '60s, train and airline authorities lobbied for some sanity, and the Uniform Time Act was passed in 1966. These days, DST starts the second Sunday of March until the first Sunday in November. However, Hawaii and (oddly) Arizona still do not observe DST, the latter for no good reason I can find.

Just so you know.

This Post Brought to you by the Letter C

What is a blog but the repository for inane ramblings upon things that matter to me but little to everyone else?

Which brings me to my next point: the letter "C" is a parasite upon an otherwise happy alphabet family. Before you leap to any conclusions about my admittedly questionable sanity, please to hear me out.

Try and think of a function that "C" fulfills that another letter does not already perform. Cat=kat cecilia=sesilia. Makes sense right? C is like that guy in office space who "Interfaces" between the salesman and the engineers. Couldn't they just talk to each other? Couldn't they?? He's fulfilling a purpose, but its a repetitive and useless one. Imagine poor K and S just sitting out thinking "What the hell, I could be DOING that man." 

That's all I have to say on that particular subject matter, but as I was writing this I decided to put some disclaimers at the bottom. Number one, maybe you don't get the office space reference, but someone will. Also if you try and bring up the "ch" sound, well you just shut your pie-hole k? Is this your blog? No, didn't think so.

BOO

Its Halloween and a Friday night yet I still find time to update my precious blog. What an awful word blog is. Take a few seconds to say it aloud and you'll see what I mean. Blog bloggggg blooooogggg. 

Anyways many people have been asking me what I'm being for Halloween (not true, just an easy transition). I am planning to dress up as Dr. Mcninja. For those who don't know who that is, he is a doctor who is also a ninja. He is also the star of the webcomic aptly named Dr. Mcninja. I suggest you all visit DrMcninja.com so that you will truly understand why I felt the need to adorn myself in this fashion. 

I have black spandex, a labcoat, several plastic weapons, and a mask, where the hell am i going to find a stethoscope?

      

Why yes, yes I do play Virtual Volleyball.

If you don't love the Boston Museum of Science you probably also hate kittens and puppies and cake. That being said, The Museum of Science is the greatest place ever.

For those of you reading this blog who aren't from Massachusetts, for shame! You have not known the joys of the omni theatre, the terror of the giant electric tesla coil, the excitement of racing those lights in that playground exhibit (does anyone know what I'm talking about?), or the magic of the musical stairs.

Among those select few who know of the things I mentioned above, there is an even select-er few who know of virtual volleyball. Virtual volleyball is awesome because its a video game you PLAY WITH YOUR BODY. Even better, I'm pretty sure it was built in the late 80's, way before similar upstarts like the Wii. Basically a projector makes a silhouette of your body on a screen, and the screen is a 2 dimensional volleyball court. If the ball on the screen touches the silhouette of your body on the screen, it bounces. Totally sweet.

Anyways that's all I really have to say for today, and don't feel too bad if you have no idea what I'm talking about, kittens/puppies/cake aren't that great anyway....

Gotta Catch 'em All

Recently I've been playing a lot of pokemon on an emulator on my computer. While I've been seriously kicking ass with my snorlax and company, I have also turned my attention to the "Pokemon World" or whatever its called. Screw 1984, this is a real Utopian society. Let me explain:

1. There's no cars or automobiles or internal combustion motors (except for bikers which have motorcycles in the picture but say they're on bicycles). Global warming would so not be an issue if I could just hope on my pigeotto and fly somewhere.

2. Free pokecenters/ridiculous technology. You can store animal things in tiny balls, yet everyone rides bikes? Yeah ok.

3. The only crime is rather silly. Team rocket repeatedly challenges you to poke-battles, seeming to forget that they could forcibly pick you up and throw you somewhere. 

In conclusion, the world would be a better place if there were pokemon, but you already knew that didn't you?

Moths

This is my blog and thusly I shall write about things which are important to me. What is important to me today is the absurd amount of tiny moths living in my floor's showers.

Their existence was first made known to me when I noticed that what i thought were specks of dirt on the walls of the shower were in fact moving and often floating around seemingly by their own will. While I was trying to remember what kind of drug I could have possibly procured at my christian college could cause such an event, I stumbled upon the more reasonable possibility of moths.

These moths seem to be waterproof and over my last few shower visits I've decided they're pretty chill. Or at least chill enough to take showers with I guess.

TV Glasses vs. Socks

I was thinking about random things while walking from class and this popped into my head 5

In case you can't tell these are the eponymous TV GLASSES. Why I was thinking about them I can't really say. But what was remarkable is that I discovered that TV glasses are rather similar to socks. You may be thinking "Nathan, that's crazy. How can TV glasses possibly be similar to socks?"

And I would say to you, I may be crazy, but behind this seemingly crazy thought is a rational explanation. The attraction of TV glasses is that they give the illusion of a big tv while instead being small tv's REALLY close to your eyeballs. In this analogy between tv glasses and socks, the big tv is carpet. 

Wearing socks is like having carpet everywhere! 

That's really the only original thought in this blog post and honestly I dragged it out too long anyway.

Airports Smell Like Malls

I'm currently bored sitting in the Pittsburgh airport while sullenly eating my greasy pizza and trying to remember how I'm getting back to college. It took me a few minutes to realize that the outlet my computer was plugged into was a fiendish trap. A trap in the sense that it doesn't work, but a trap nonetheless.  The outlet was near a comfy chair and a window with a view. The only outlets that work are the ones situated by the bathrooms. Take from that what you will.

Self-Styled Musings

Hello and good afternoon.

My good friend Adam made a blog (http://surrealistblog.blogspot.com/) and I decided to follow suit. I haven't really decided what I'm going to write about but theoretically it will be amusing and distracting. For now, anyone reading this will have to make do with a ridiculous story I wrote for a college essay, but turned out to be too long:

The King and I

It was a bright morning in Andover Massachusetts, and I was excited. Today I was meeting my friends at the high school to play Frisbee. Since my father refuses to drive anyone anywhere within biking distance on days above freezing, I hopped on my red mountain bike and ventured forth. I donned my silver helmet and pulled out of the driveway, awkwardly pedaling my bike with my cleats on. As I turned the corner to Abbot Bridge (which I had to cross to get to the school), a long line of cars greeted me.

As I neared the center of the bridge, I was startled to find that two young women were the cause of the traffic jam. Perhaps 25 years of age and both bleached blond, they had left their silver convertible running in the middle of the street. To my utter astonishment, they had left their car in order to coax an enormous snapping turtle from the road. They were calling to it as if it was a dog, but fearing for their lives would venture no closer. One of them turned to me and asked, “Could you help?”, then promptly thanked me, and drove off. Now left with the company of the turtle, I felt the gaze of a hundred eyes upon me, waiting to see my next move.

I circled the enormous beast as a hunter circles its prey, seeking an opportunity. The turtle watched me wistfully from the black pools that were his eyes. I shuddered as I imagined the awesome strength of those monster jaws. Its mottled shell dulled from years of battle shone in the sun. I began to perspire under my helmet; a trickle of sweat ran down my forehead. Time stood still. I realized I must get this turtle off the bridge. But the beast was immovable, the size of myself, and thickly armored. He was angry too; I could sense it, frustrated and trapped in a world he did not understand. In a flash, I knew what needed to be done.

I slipped off my helmet as the honking dulled to a roar, deadened by the sound of my beating heart. My cleats made a clicking noise as I approached the snapping turtle. I began to tap the guardrail of the bridge with my silver helmet, first softly, then as I walked closer, progressively louder. I was five feet from the animal when the clattering crescendo grew too much. The beast charged!

My eyes narrowed, the turtle approached at its top speed of about 2. I thought I could feel the ground shaking as it approached. I resumed banging as I backed up. I stared into its eyes, willing it to follow, trying to replace its fear with anger. One step, then two, the yellow line of the road slowly passed under our feet. Man and beast locked in a frantic dance. The path to the river was close; I could feel the mist of the water at the back of my neck. I felt gravel crunch under my feet and realized I had left the road. I paused and waited. Nothing. I could only see the wall of the bridge. I was shocked. I had failed, the turtle had given up. My heart sunk.

Suddenly a head, a neck, tentative at first then relaxed the turtle emerged from the bridge, off the road onto the path. I backed reverently out the river king’s way. Watching his slow descent into the river. Above us, cars began to move again, harmony returned. The majestic animal stepped into his domain, and for a moment seemed to turn and looked back at me. Ours eyes met for what would be the last time. His gaze seemed to say “Well done, young one, well done.” At once, he was gone; I looked at the water for a long time. Then as quietly as he, I left that place, only to return in dream.