1 is the magic number. 1 is the number of classes I have left.

By popular request…

Goodness, no, I’m not going to write a long detailed description, but maybe I’ll give a little list. It wasn’t knock your socks off fun, but it was a cool night.

• I got home and spent the day working on my Bible as Lit project, which was supposed to have been finished last night. I can’t work late night anymore, so I had to e-mail it. I spent all my free time that day working on an essay, art project, and reflection.
• This left me about 10-15 to take a shower, shave, get dressed, find my ID card, etc. Mission was accomplished. I’m good. Except finding my ID card, but I didn’t really need it to get in.

• Sarah made a garter. I had no idea what a garter was. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only crazy one because it looked like a dog skirt, and she made it out of materials she bought at Wal-Mart the night before.
• Despite traffic and leaving late, we arrived at Roozbeh’s on time, only to find that Roozbeh wasn’t even there. Practically no one else was on time. Damn Asians. It’s okay, I can say it… I’m half-Chinese.
• I was really squished in the limo. I took my shoes off.
• We went to Zingari’s for dinner. On my way to the bathroom, I heard my favorite song, “Angel Eyes,” and then I noticed it was live music — there was a piano player and singer. I really wanted to listen, but I really wanted to go pee. However, when that business was finished, I took Sarah back over to hear them. (She plays trombone just like me.)
• They were disappointed to hear that Angel Eyes was my favorite song because I couldn’t think of anything else to request. After they played The Nearness of You, I asked for It’s All Right With Me, but the singer didn’t know it, so I asked for My Funny Valentine. After, I think they played Ain’t Misbehavin’.
• That musical experience tainted the dance. Hip hop cannot compare, but I withstood the onslaught anyway, moving in ways that made me look like an idiot and made me feel so white. Except when “Hey Ya” come on. I refused to dance because that song is played out and I hate it.
• Oh yeah, on the way in, even though we’d already eaten, I asked a certain administrator for a fry. (Yes, I got one and ate it.)
• The house was lame and everyone was tired, so Sarah and I left when everyone else was leaving. I thought that would be the end of the night but when I turned on the car, Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” was playing, and that kinda woke us up.
• On the way back home, Sarah and I drove through Niles Canyon. I turned off the headlights at some point. Didn’t see any White Lady, though.
• So, we’re driving down Mission, trying to find something to do in this lame-ass city, and I ask Sarah what’s open late at night. Sometime after saying Wal-Mart, she says bowling alleys are open late. Now, bowling was the thing I told Jason I least wanted to do after prom. That’s so hackneyed. Well, we had nothing better to do, so I said let’s just drive over there and decide (it was like 5 minutes away). I said, I’m sure that once we get over there, we’ll decide not to go and wonder what we were thinking. Which is exactly what happened. How incredibly ghetto. Fuck Hayward.
• Only the drive-thru was open for Jack in the Box, and I didn’t actually want Jack in the Box, just didn’t want to go home right away. We ended up not having Jack in the Box.
• Then, I got the brilliant idea to go to the park. So, that was a fun time. That park used to be super ghetto, but now it looks pretty nice. However, there was a weird noise and we couldn’t tell if it was bugs or the gargantuan power lines.

almost there… I can’t wait until summer… I need to start making my gigantic list of things I need to do!

Here’s a start:

• learn how to play bass
• play trombone on street corners in berkeley and see how much money I can get
• create merchandise for The Chalkboard Manifesto

Senior ball, but first, I must finish a 4 pages essay!

I think that today at the band banquet, I gave my first speech. I’ve given class presentations, done forensics in middle school, debated, but I don’t believe I’ve ever actually given a speech.

I have to thank Ian for his advice: People don’t remember the middle of speeches, only the beginning and end. So, I made sure to start with a joke and end on a positive.

Obviously, it wasn’t the best of speeches, but considering all the time I didn’t put into it (ah, did you catch the negative?) because of a hectic schedule, I did okay.

Anyway, it’s the first step on a long road. For all of you who were there, you can one day say, pointing to me on the TV, “I saw this guy give his first speech.”

I sent in all my stuff, and so, I’m officially going to Johns Hopkins University! It’s in Baltimore, Maryland. I’m really excited to be going to the East Coast.

I had to wait a while for the stars to shift. I saw the Big Dipper today and it just made everything feel better. If you ever feel lost, just look up. There’s always a touch of familiar in the night sky.

Hm… very interesting…

I just realized today that I completely forgot about my New Year’s resolution to seize each day. Time to get back on track.

Wow, I just turned 18 today, and I already got mail for a credit card. Damn vultures.

The Lotto’s for lame people… I’m gonna see if I can hit up an indian casino sometime this weekend.

Every year… every year, I ask for an ice cream cake. A cake made out of ice cream. And every year, I get a friggin’ chinese fruit cake thingie. Every year after I eat that cake which I do not like, I say, “Get me an ice cream cake next year.” And every year, I get another friggin’ chinese fruit cake. That’s life for ya.

One is supposed to wish for something when blowing out the candles on one’s cake. Life is so much better when you wish for something simple. “I wish I can blow out the candles on this cake.” Bam! Wish fulfilled, no disappointment.

I usually don’t use this space to brag, except for my pathetic Minesweeper scores, but I scored over 100 on the AMC12 exam today. That was with no prep work. Oh yeah, I am the real deal.

We were playing Texas Hold’em. It was heads up. I had maybe 1/3 the number of chips my opponent had. I went all in with K-J suited. Ryan calls, and I see that he has K-3. In case you haven’t played Texas Hold’em, that meant the odds were severely in my favor. He catches a 3. In case you haven’t played Texas Hold’em, that meant I lost. I am still mad at Lady Luck.

Yesterday, I gave Pat a ride to Wendy’s, in my classy car. He complimented my taste in music. Typically, what people say to me about music is, “Wow, do you even listen to any music?” What can I say?

“God let 175,000 people die in a tsunami, you think he’s going to help you with your test?” — something I said to a classmate yesterday. Got a positive response from someone else too: “Good one, Shawn.”

I love compliments like that, for things I don’t expect. For example, the first day I said the Pledge of Allegiance without “under God”, the person in front of my uttered the comment, “Nice.”

In calculus, I like to draw pictures on the chalkboard. So, I was talking to someone during Psychology, and she says, “Your last drawing inspired my class to draw something funny.” So, we take the hall pass (this is right before the bell rings) in order for me to view the picture. Inside the classroom, some girl I don’t know learns that I’m the one who has been drawing the pictures. I’m happy to hear that she thinks they’re absolutely hilarious.

It reminds me of the positive e-mails I’ve gotten for my website, psycho-ward.org, which have been rather lacking as of late. I haven’t updated that site enough and there’s no excuse. I just have replaced it with other priorities. I miss them, though — the positive e-mails, I mean. Instead, all I have is immature vitriol on my Weekly Polls. However, I can take pride in that some people know not to take things seriously: “oh yeah, Mr. Dictator? making up things isn’t going to provoke any comments from me, so there!”

So, yesterday, I learned the value of patience. From poker… Texas Hold’em. I really figured out one of my basic character flaws. I get impatient, and then I start acting against my instincts. You see, because I’m not getting the results I want, I lose confidence in my methods. So, I try to do something different. Because of that, I played two hands horribly, and I knew I was playing them horribly. Yet, I did it anyway because of my impatience. So, I thought about life in general, and realized that probably applies to other areas. When things often come easily for you, and you’re used to winning, you become easily disenchanted when you’re deprived of instant gratification. I’m too good for my own good, so to speak.

Today, I put my lesson into practice. There were some hands that were like those two hands I played horribly, only this time I resisted, and forced myself to fold. I got a lot of bad hands and my chips were being whittled away by the blinds, but it finally paid off when I doubled my chips. Then, I did it again and I had the chip lead. Later, I went all in (pre-flop) with a pair of sevens and lost to A-K, but I didn’t feel as if that was the wrong move to make. I was at least following my instincts. I didn’t win that game, but I’m learning patience, which is an even greater prize.

I figure if it’s already helping in poker, it should help in life. I’ll apply this lesson of patience to other areas in my life.

The truth can be a rather impulsive creature. Sometimes, I feel like the most impulsive of actions are the best way to seize the day.

So, I did some impulsive things yesterday.

That morning, I said the Pledge of Allegiance without “under God” in it. If you’ve read this weblog for a while, then you’ll know all about my thoughts on the Pledge of Allegiance. If you don’t, then do a quick search on my weblog. I like how some people use the argument: “Oh, if you don’t believe in God, then you can just not say it.” Yes, because that option doesn’t make any child inconspicuous by finishing the Pledge before everyone else. That option definitely isn’t an exclusive option. Yeah, no exclusion there. If I was younger, I would definitely be very uncomfortable in that situation. I would probably say it and wallow in the indoctrination. But I’m older (not necessarily wiser) and comfortable enough with my viewpoints to keep on not saying “under God.” Ooh, another funny point is that some of the people who probably have made that earlier point would be offended if anyone actually did it.

Impestuous act number two: Playing piano for 4-5 hours. I didn’t get my fingers to bleed, but they were very very sore. Still, after all that playing… I’m still not done with the first movement of Pictures at an Exhibition. However, I did get the first promenade down pretty well. (And I worked on the second movement before finishing the first.)

And yet still… I do not feel as if the day was seized enough…

Typically, I make a laundry list of to-do items as resolutions. One-time things that can be accomplished with some effort. Not going to do that anymore. But first, let’s take a look, with my comments in bold, at last year’s resolutions:

• Get my driver’s license – CHECK
• Learn C++ – C+what? I think I remember looking at some stuff way early in the year, but I haven’t an idea about it now. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I did any coding in PHP! (Actually, it was probably when I fixed the Weekly Poll at psycho-ward.org.) Perhaps I’m partially exonerated by the fact that I did learn some Java… but that was only because I’m in a required computer class at school. In fact, since I’m more of a manager in that rather large class, I once more can’t remember the last time I actually wrote a program.
• Learn how to solo on trombone – The only thing I can note of worth regarding trombone is that I did learn all my major scales at one point. Other than that, I’m rather appalled in my progress on trombone. I need to practice more.
• Get 200,000 hits in one month at Psycho-ward.org – Let’s see. My original webhost, after years of being with them and having no problems, went down, and then ran away with my money. My hits took a plunge, and only are now climbing back to previous levels. Actually, they’re a little bit higher than previous levels with a solid breaking of 100,000 hits for the past few months.
• Finish one of my long stories – I’m too lazy to check right now what I’ve actually done, but here’s what I recall. I did maybe two chapters of Return to Dawn. I did one chapter of Misadventures of a Post-Apocalyptic Trombonist. I had another unnamed story which I was four chapters into, but then I decided to re-write the thing. I’m only one chapter into it now. At least I wrote over 50 poems.
• Get both French videos finished (subtitles and commentary, too) – Richard did put the first one on DVD, which we had a screening of at school, but I never got a copy of it, myself. We decided against a commentary track, however. The second video remains unfinished.
• Write and film Majestic, the Movie – Nothing. Nothing. I scrapped that idea long ago. Too much work.
• Write songs and lyrics for that fake musical (don’t absolutely need story done yet) – Discarded this idea, as well. I did write one song, with no lyrics.
• Finish the stuff currently on my Coming Soon list at psycho-ward.org – HAHAHA! At least none of the old stuff is there anymore, but I can’t say that I actually accomplished them.
• Learn and memorize all of Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2 – Actually, I was making really good progress on it through summer. I memorized it up through part of where it says “tempo giusto vivace.” However, I stopped playing that particular song for a while, and now I hardly remember it. There are still pages to go. I would work on it again, but I’m going to order Pictures at an Exhibition. I’m really excited about that piece.
• Update psycho-ward.org more often (the only one that’s more general) – Not even close to the 2003 frequency, except during the ending of summer.
• Do at least 40 TPVs this year – Rather moot resolution since I ended TPV. However, it ended on a sincere note.
• Do at least 12 Majestic comics this year – Nope. However, I am currently at #12, overall. And, I did go back and redo the style of all the old ones. Does that count as actually doing twelve?

Really, Shawn, this is pathetic. (Sorry, folks, I have a tendency to refer to myself in third person when I do something particularly unslick.) It’s rather disappointing, since I did pretty well the year before, when I put it on paper. Don’t misjudge me, however. I did a lot this year; I just didn’t concentrate on those specific tasks.

In any case, this year will be different. I am only making one resolution: To seize each day, and live it to its fullest. I’m going to squeeze all the life out of each day, like squeezing all the juice out of a lemon. Even if all the juice misses the cup and spills all over the floor, I will still be satisfied, knowing that the day was seized.

This year will represent a new chapter in my life. The year of new freedom… That’s what I called it in the last post of 2004. Why? Mostly because I’m done with my college applications. I don’t have anything hanging over my head anymore, and I can do more of what I want to do. Have more fun, accomplish more.

I do have some specific goals I could have made, but I don’t want to so confine myself this year. The goals will come with the day. Notice how I said seize each day. I picked those specific words because I want to treat each day as one of those lemons. Each day will be its own entity. Each day will be new, different from every other. I will live that day, and only that day, not yesterday or tomorrow.

I already accomplished one thing today — those aforementioned college applications. I stayed up until I finished each and every one. Then, I went to bed, and awoke with a clean slate. This is a new year. But I do not plan on seizing this year — only each day of it.

The other day, I looked at the stars. It’s usually cloudy here, so it was a real treat to see the stars. The sky seems strangely empty, though. Everything is so bright, and there aren’t too many stars. I seem to remember seeing more. After spotting Orion after getting out of the car, I had to go to the backyard and just look at the stars. It felt so weird because I hadn’t seen the stars in so long.

I was reminded of the last time we had a blackout. When I went outside, the world was brighter than it should have been. I couldn’t figure out the source of this eerie bluish light, if all the power was out. It took me a while, but I finally realized that it was coming from the moon. The world was bathed in moonlight. It was so alluring, I almost wanted to stay out there all night and perhaps dance in it. Yet, it was too cold.

It was even colder the night I was looking at the stars, but I had to anyway. I found Orion once more, and I could see not only the belt, but the dagger and the entire constellation. I found the W that was Cassiopeia. But what I really wanted to find was the Big Dipper. The constellation that should always be in the sky no matter what the season… the constellation that helps you find the North Star, so you can find your way home. Only I was already home, and I wanted to find something else. I remembered seeing the Big Dipper as a child (Hah, what am I saying? I’m still a child), and I just wanted to recapture something. But I tried and I tried, and I couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find the Little Dipper either. It was really really frustrating, and even my dad and sister couldn’t find it. I was so disoriented. The sky no longer felt familiar, and I felt as if I should’ve known where everything was, but I couldn’t find anything. I left the night sky very disappointed. I don’t know exactly why, but I really really wanted to see it.

So, if there’s anyone out there, with a clear view of the night sky… take a picture of the Big Dipper for me. I’ll keep looking every night, and as soon as I find it, I’ll take my own picture.

And no, sticking glow in the dark stars on my ceiling is not enough.

If you never tell a bad joke, it means you never tell enough jokes. I tell bad jokes all the time. That just means I tell too many jokes. Too many bad jokes.

I’ve run out of funny material, but I will keep pressing on, keep telling unfunny things until, finally, I find it again. Because if I say nothing, it’s just as unfunny.

Or maybe I never really had it in the first place. I know I have said some funny things occasionally, but for the longest time, I never considered myself a funny person. Now, I’m starting to think of myself as a funny person, but I’m quickly running out of things to say.

Then again, maybe I just need a rest from the funny. Try to be serious for a while. Let the funniness recharge.

A weblog becomes very interesting when one thinks aloud, does it not? Or maybe it becomes less entertaining?

I don’t know. I really can’t tell anymore. I’ll just stick with what works. (Doesn’t work?)

Tomorrow: Back to regular ol’ commentary.

My senior quote for the yearbook: “I will take a yardstick to God himself, and measure him.”

Very bold.

It was that, or “If Jesus was a professional wrestler, what would be his finishing move?” I decided on the yardstick one because it was bolder.

Mazda 3. Titanium. 6-CD Changer. Leather seats.

Zoom zoom.

Remember when I said I was working towards 50 poems? I think I said that… I’m too sleepy to find the entry. Anyway, I’m almost there. I’ve had over 40 written since Labor Day.

Way back when, this last summer, I took a summer class. (I’ve referred to it before, if you keep up on this weblog thing.) About 10 days long. I had a great time: the people I met were just so awesome. Ah, the memories. And, I thought I would actually miss these people.

The truth is, I did, for a little bit. I was really sorry to see these people go. Watching them leave one by one, or by busload, made me sad. Catching one of the later buses made me endure good-bye after good-bye.

Then, before I knew it, I was on my own bus, pondering the disappearance of all these newfound friends. I got on the airplane, fell asleep, and was instantly plunged into a new vacation — this time, with my mom and sister.

I still missed those people for a while, longing for some wacky hijinks instead of the stagnant mood of the family vacation.

I thought I would keep in contact with them. I really thought I would try.

In fact, I had papers with contact information. I put all of them on my AOL Instant Messenger buddy list.

I chatted with a few people at intermittant times, but we had nothing to talk about. Nothing.

I even signed up for some MSN Group, and posted a few messages.

Gradually, the memories faded, and I don’t miss these people. No life-long friendships forged with me. I don’t know if it’s just me, or was it the whole group, because the MSN Group totally died as well.

Part of it had to be me, though. Ever since I can remember, I haven’t really missed people. When I was in California, and my dad was in Colorado, I didn’t really miss him. My brother, my sister-in-law, and their two kids moved to Las Vegas. I don’t really miss them.

Maybe it’s because I knew I’d see them again sometime. Then again, my grandfather died recently. I don’t miss him.

It’s not that I don’t love these people (actually, I don’t like my grandfather and his death doesn’t change that), but I just don’t get that emotion of missing people.

Right now, I can tell you truthfully, I don’t miss any of the kids that were in my summer class, nor my teachers. I could strike up a conversation with them, if I were to meet them in person, probably, but that doesn’t mean I miss them.

My friends from Colorado… I don’t know when’s the last time I talked to any of them.

My middle school friends… I see them occasionally, but do I miss not having them in any of my classes. No, not really.

Do I occasionally think about any of those aforementioned? Of course, but I don’t miss them. Sometimes, I’ll say, I want to see that person, but do I really miss that person?

What is it about me?

Which brings me to my graduation, coming soon. Will I miss my fellow classmates and friends? Judging from the past: I’ll be sad for a little bit, and then they’ll fade away.

I also wonder what I’ll be thinking when someone close to me dies. I’ve dealt with not seeing people ever again… and to me right now, not having experienced anything like that, that’s the definition of dying for me. Someone gone who I’ll never see again, like my grandfather right now.

I know it’s a self-centered way to view things, but any of the people I’ve lost contact with could die, and what would be the difference to me?

I tell you this though, I don’t like that aspect of myself, but I don’t know what I could do to change it. Start getting closer to people? I really don’t know.

continued from Part 1

Later, we discover through another test that the strings are inadequate: they broke during testing. Someone comes up with the idea to use caution tape instead. The group sets off to rebuild the parachute and finish the poster. We split up to do so. I ditch the poster to let the girls bond over it.

All the guys are up in the lounge, rebuilding the parachute. Yeah, right. Cutting caution tape and tying it to a section of a grocery bag and army man is not a 11 person job. One guy rebuilds the parachute. The rest of us are watching TV and/or playing cards.

The next morning, the group reconvenes to work on the presentation of the parachute. The poster is not enough. Eventually, the presentation develops into a news broadcast format beginning with a reference to the downed original army man. My contribution? Yes, I did contribute — I felt guilty about the poster. I didn’t get to write it. I wrote the second draft. Minor edits. Note that I said second draft, not final draft.

Anyway, the presentation is a hit. Everyone else’s is boring. Some kid had a CAD presentation. For a glider. One that didn’t work too well, at that. Another group dressed in togas and gave themselves Greek names. Wow. And that relates to their project, how? Don’t look to me for the answer, I think I was asleep or zoned out during that part. Granted, it’s hard to make that kind of thing entertaining, but hey, my group succeeded.

Our parachute puts on an even better performance. After watching the parachutes do not so well, and the gliders dive-bomb, I was wondering how well ours would do. We send our representative up, he drops it. It falls rather lacklusterly. Then, about half-way down, a gust of wind picks it up. The parachute flies over everyone’s heads and off into the sky. Over the farm area. With my non 20-20 vision, it goes out of sight.

Controversy strikes. Were we disqualified because our guy let the parachute go before the judges said they were ready? Even if they decided docked us 30 seconds, we still outperformed the others by far. But a disqualification, that would set us back…

One hope was a redeeming second flight to seal the deal. The second flight was less awe-inspiring. However, we still did better than 99% of the groups. Another group also had a parachute a gust of wind picked up, but it didn’t even come close to the height ours went.

Awards are later presented, and our group triumphs over the controversy. It was too obvious that we won for them to disqualify us. We didn’t win for best presentation because I guess they wanted more groups to share the prizes. Whatever. Just a piece of paper.

At the time, it felt great to defeat everyone, but in retrospect, what was my contribution? Let’s see, I made some minor edits to the presentation. I started a mural on the chalkboard, but didn’t draw a thing on the poster. Hm…

Hey, I came up with the idea to split us up into committees! That was a good idea… even though other groups also split into groups…

So, what was my one unique contribution to this project? The word “committee.” Speaks volumes about me, doesn’t it?

I think it means, I’m not cut out to be an engineer. (Well, that wasn’t the only thing that convinced me, but I’ll save that junk for later.) I don’t want to help design and build something where I only contribute one tiny piece… or one tiny piece junked before the final design is created. Even winning so greatly didn’t inspire me to be an engineer. In fact, they weren’t even going to allow parachutes for the next session of engineering camp. Still, no go for being an engineer.

I noticed that I touched the parachute maybe once. I’d rather be in a position where I could tell people what to do, like, split up into “committees.”

That’s what I learned about myself, anyway, but what do you care? What can you learn from the parachute thing? If there’s too many people doing one project, shirk from most of the work, and then proceed in taking the credit.

Oh, that’s not a very good life lesson. But hey, what can I say? You got the cynic’s point of view. There is no uplifting lesson in here.

I’ve been sometimes referring to a “summer class” I took this, well, summer. Really, I should be referring to it as engineering camp. I mean, that’s what it was, basically. The program itself was more, but the class I chose… engineering camp.

That clarified, what did I do in engineering camp? (Besides participating in the duct taping of someone to the wall, that is.) The full inglorious story is something I could not tell well without boring you, and boring myself — something more suited for list form. However, I don’t want to write a list today. Thus, I’m sectioning off this story, writing one little tale about engineering camp.

To make us easier to manage, they split us up into groups, headed by a TA, or “team adviser,” who was sometimes accompanied by an “ATA.” It helped keep track of us during field trips, off-campus, or even just walking across campus.

There was also one more purpose of the group. Each team’s goal was to build something that stayed in the air for about 12 seconds, the same time as the Wright brother’s first famous flight. Suffice it to say, however, our flight did not need to be sustained or controlled. Just 12 seconds. Our materials were severely limited, and the “flier” had to hold a little army guy. Luckily, the army guy couldn’t have weighed more than two pennies, or even more than one.

The simplest solution was the one my group picked: a parachute. We used a bag, cut it into a rectangle, tied string to the four corners, tied the string to the army man, weighted the army man with some pennies, and we were done.

Well, except for the matter of testing. Our parachute was successful. Too successful, in fact. The wind caught it, and it got stuck on the roof. Efforts to free the army man were wildly unsuccessful, and mildly entertaining, at least to me. I didn’t help get it down; I just sat back and laughed at the vain efforts.

Later, it was remarked that this was “true” engineering. All of us coming together and trying to solve this problem.

Yeah… Throwing a rubber ball covered in duct tape that someone found in the janitor’s closet is engineering? Linking together junk in the dumpster to form something that obviously would never come close to reaching the necessary five stories is engineering? Completely ignoring one girl’s suggestions is all of us coming together?

Call me a cynic, but while you’re at it, you’ll also have to call me right.

We get back, and so, with ignoring of this one person, everyone else suddenly realizes that 15 people in a group is unwieldy for building a simple parachute. I don’t want to brag, but I knew this wasn’t a 15-person job a long time ago.

I come up with the suggestion of splitting up into two committees. One to work on the actual parachute, one to work on the poster. (Another requirement was a presentation of the flier, including a poster.) Someone else suggests a third committee: a string committee. Yes, a five-person committee for the strings connecting the parachute to the army guy. A five-person committee. Four pieces of string.

Whatever. I argued against it, but I didn’t really do any work on the parachute, anyway, and I was outnumbered. I joined the poster committee. If you know me, then you might know that I am no artist, at least, in terms of drawing. Why did I join poster committee? Two reaons. One, I hadn’t done much work on the parachute in the first place. Two, I’ll be frank, it was to avoid work.

Avoiding work wasn’t all selfish. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything in the other two committees. Even split up, the job just was unwieldy for 15 people. At least with poster, I could try to do something, right? Meh, ends up, I didn’t do any work on the poster, anyway.

to be continued…

I figured out who it was! The mystery IMer, that is. Earlier, Kayla had told me that 510 was our area code. That’s why I didn’t give up the hunt for the person. Could it be coincidence? I doubted it. And, if it’s my area code, I might actually know the person.

I asked random people, “Do you know who this screen name belongs to?” My efforts were fruitless.

Enter Jason, once again. He says it sounds like someone who used to go to our school named Ryan Mendoza. That made sense. He was kind of big. The “doza” fit, and so did the area code.

Enter flash of genius. I remembered that Kevin hung out with Ryan, at least at one time.

IM Kevin. Does he know who the mystery person is?

Success! I have no idea why Ryan IMed me, but I figured out who he was, and that’s all that matters.

Mystery solved.

Now, what will come along now to balance things out?

I present you with a tale of mystery and cosmic balance:

The other night, or so, I was talking to Jason about greatness. Jason remarked that greatness requires a degree of specialization, or effort in one particular thing. That specialization comes at the expense of being lesser in other categories. He said he didn’t want the sacrifice. Or, I’ll paraphrase his more poetic terms: Life is like a buffet. If you pig out on sushi, you might miss the steak.

He believes in balance. (By the way, I’m more the opposite, which I’ll discuss in some later entry.) Yin and yang. Something has to give to make way for something else, or something like that.

Later in the evening, I’m talking online to Jenny (who, according to Stevie, is supposedly my “soul mate”). Amidst conversation of airports and airplanes, and the popcorn lady (you know, the one who answers when you dial popcorn), she says that her friend Kayla requests that I go to her livejournal to vote for something. So, I say okay. Jenny mentions that I may know Kayla. The other day, Kayla was looking at her buddy list and asked who my screen name belonged to. It had gotten on her buddy list, and she didn’t know who it was. The name sounded slightly familiar, but I didn’t know the person. A friend of a friend, perhaps?

We moved on in conversation… Suddenly, I remembered an incident a few years back. A person had IMed me out of the blue, asking who I was because the name was on her buddy list and she didn’t know how it got there. We had tried figuring out how we could’ve known each other, but to no avail.

After IMing Kayla, I deduced that it was most likely her. And, it was suggested that Stevie had put my screen name on her buddy list. It was a friend of a friend, I suppose, then. One mystery in my life, solved.

I was feeling good at that point, solving a mystery and all. Was tonight my lucky night? Could I solve another mystery?

I tried this entry on Jenny. Of course, no such luck, despite her claims to the contrary.

As I’m re-reading that old entry, an IM window pops up on my screen. This is pretty late at night, past midnight, who could be IMing me? The text is black on white. Times New Roman. Very default.

I know some people who use default text, but this screen name was unfamiliar. “This is ryan,” he says.

“Ryan… last name?” I query.

He says nevermind and goodbye.

Who the hell is this guy and how does he have the gall to do this?

I go on a tiny tirade about how he has bad timing. I just solved this mystery, and now, he IMs me, and I don’t know who he is.

I ask if he knows me — my name is Shawn.

He says “ya,” but I’m not sure if he was referring to my tiny tirade or the name thing. Whatever the case, he leaves. And I’m left with this mystery. Who was he?

Then, I’m reminded of another conversation I had with someone. Jason. Cosmic balance. One mystery solved, only to be instantly replaced with another.

EDIT: I hate to add something to this because the ending is so great, but if anybody knows who “bigdoza510” is, you would solve my mystery.

I was at Border’s and I saw Alex Zhong. Completely unexpected! Normally, I hate seeing random people from school when I’m out at some random place. This time, however, I was glad to see a familiar face.

We didn’t exchange many words, but I’ve been spending the past few days couped up in the house, and I realized that I need more human contact. Especially after the proximity of NSLC. I need wacky hijinks, and exciting exploits.

I’ve just now come to the realization that I haven’t seen any of my friends, or my cousins, in over a month.

However, I need an excuse to visit people. I can’t just go up to them and say, “I need human contact.” Or maybe, I can…

10:33 PM – EDIT: Dude, it totally worked. I’m seeing a movie this Saturday, and Spider-Man 2, at that. Awesome. Then, Lloyd IMs me. So, I’m visiting ATDP this Wednesday. I should be seeing my cousins this Friday when they’re moving. Yay!

Previously on this weblog: “Although I’m not exactly thrilled about being away from home so long this summer (the better part of a month) and I still haven’t finished a Majestic comic, I have a good feeling about this summer… perhaps the… best summer ever… hm…”

Commence laughing.

Let’s make some changes:

Although I was thrilled by the start of this summer… seeing Kill Bill, going to the zoo, going to the beach… I still have yet to have a decent time afterwards, and I’m hardly going to be home at all before summer is over. So, I have a bad feeling about the rest of this summer… perhaps the… worst summer ever… hm…

Note to self: Do not tempt the fates with such language (such as that in the aforementioned entry) ever again.

Will be back Saturday, then off into the wild blue yonder (is that the correct expression?) once more on Monday, midnight.

This is a list of things I want to purchase, but I’m not sure when I’ll get around to doing it. It’s a short list.

• Kill Bill vol 1 DVD
• Kill Bill vol 1 soundtrack
• Kill Bill vol 2 soundtrack
• Kirara plush toy
• Poodle Hat – Weird Al CD
• FLCL

My goal in life is to get two sentences in the history book. Not one, but two. I can then die a happy man. That’s all I care about. I don’t care how I get in there, as long as I am in there.

[Note: Fixing up links within this weblog (as in from one entry to another)… done from March through June 2003]