bananas, that's what
crazy end to a crazy week? i think so.
it started off with my turning 21 at davis, but it didn't really hit me much until everyone started calling and leaving me emails and stuff. it felt tingly. and not like the tingly when your leg starts to fall asleep because you've been sitting too long; more like the tingly that happens after a good 30-second session with listerine.
the whole week was mired by heart complications and other hullaballoo (read: norcal party and silent walk planning), but for the most part, i regained my sleep cycle, i've been drunk for four out of five nights, and have made a ton of new albeit young friends to keep for the rest of my lifetime. and of the friends i already had, we made a lot of good memories, some of which are captured forever in digital format, and strengthened our bonds in that way that you would probably invite these people to family events.
so what does it feel like being 21? i was hoping to come up with a profound, optimistic answer, but the best i can come up with is that i have to start paying my bills, establish a credit line, and be the good friend to buy all my other good friends alcohol. i noticed that i type a little faster, that my joints get sore quicker, that my patience is getting more and more tested, that social skills are second nature now, that i can actually cook a decent meal for myself, and that i am so responsible for everything else that happens forever.
not that it feels like a huge burden on my shoulders (it's not), but you know that sinking feeling like right before graduation or right before you have to get up and speak before a huge crowd and the pit of your stomach just goes nuts? like that times fifteen to the sixtieth power.
it feels like you're so old, especially since i've been in this place for close to four years, and i know where everything and everywhere is, but at the same time i feel like a naive little bitch who didn't do much with his life save for join band and speak four languages. some kid in switzerland could kick my ass if he learned an instrument. i don't feel too young, since some of my best friends are 17, but i feel kind of old too since the average age of everyone i hang out with would probably be closer to 25 than 21.
leave it to america to glamorize a shitty age to turn. now what can i do? pay my taxes, gamble all my money in vegas, and rent enterprise cars. i've been drinking since forever, and buying a lottery ticket is the closest thing i'll probably ever do to gambling -- unless you're talking about gambling with your life, then skydiving doesn't count. twenty-one is a step closer to being twenty-two. which, according to jessica simpson, is almost mid-twenties. (keen girl, her.)
since i've turned 21 i've noticed that things can be just as tenuous as they began, that friendships and relationships do change no matter how much you want to think that they don't. i've noticed people get older, and i've noticed people grow into themselves into bigger, if not better, things.
it really still hasn't hit me, but i'm sure one day while strolling around campus i'll be dumbstruck mid-conversation and it'll all come crashing down like a pile of bricks. bricks made out of goosedown, honey, and teddy bears. in all likelihood i'll have a smile on my face but i'm crying on the inside, blaming everyone and everything i see for what it is i know i can't explain.
so i guess, here's to being 21, because that shit is bananas.
pictures at the jump.-----
the past week itself was full of interesting (mis)adventures, ranging from losing my voice on the bus ride back to davis, heart palpitations on monday (which continue until thursday, mind you), puking my guts out and going to the cardiologist's on tuesday, meeting my little bear and finding out that we're both really awesome people ("i'm glad they paired me up with a good one," he said), catching up with friends on thursday, and partying my ass off on friday.
somewhere in there i learned a show for the band, gave a few tours for work, regained my voice, and got internet at my new apartment, hence the long-ish update, not that anyone's really reading this, but go bears. whatever.
two words, kids: miguel's BUSY.
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nerding out on reno 911! second season dvd was a perfect birthday present.
also on the present list was a laundry hamper, a porcelain dog statue, and a magazine subscription.
it's one of those times when you feel old and not old at the same time.
but seriously though, i have the
bestest little bear ever.
yay
i turned 21 yesterday.
thanks to all of you who wished me a happy birthday.
don't feel so bad if you didn't. you don't need to.
and the madness continues. go bears!
oh WHAT
madness in t-minus four days and counting.
then you won't see me for like a week and then it's going to be nuts.
what did i get myself into?
no wonder the earth looks sad today
this was the front page on cnn.com this morning.
look outside the window. here in berkeley, it feels like every disgusting fall morning: gray, dreary, cold, and somewhat damp. it's foggy; the cars are awful loud, and everyone on the streets seems particularly quiet, despite the usual earphones-in, noise out.
Kevin is awesome.
the earth looks so sad today.
peter jennings was 67. he died of lung cancer.
personally, he was my favorite; sam donaldson was too highbrow (not to mention that wig!), walter cronkite was -- well, he was mentioned in zoolander, and tom brokaw reminded me too much of an overgrown six-year old (kinda like alec stewart). peter jenning was all to real, you know -- he typed with just his index fingers, and he typed fast! -- and it really is sad to come home from grocery shopping to find out on the news that he passed away.
he didn't have any annoying speech impediments (ahem, barbara walters, or should i say, bawbawa wawtews), and he was actually nice! he cared about the news, which is really what i admired most.
he didn't graduate high school, but even still, that made him strive to be better and one of the leadig resources that the people could utilize.
sigh. peter jennings, wherever you are, you're already in a better place.
america's media credibility just dropped like 400 points.
casting call!
i'm in need of a few hands, here:
- script writers
- multimedia geniuses (ie, website builders)
- people with ipods
- people with ipods and griffin italk voice recorders
why? it's a project of mine that i think would be really cool to start up.
take the concept of podcasting, right. it's a medium you can take on your own leisure, you can go listen to it anytime you want. but i've got an even better idea, stemming of course from being an avid ipod geek and a campus tour guide: guided audio tours you can download of specific places, ones that you can cater toward something of interest. (i know this is already in progress, but think about it: you have things running in your mind during a visit to sfmoma, why not express them out loud onto your ipod? then of course, there's a spin on it -- yay for subjectivity!)
it would be fairly useful and practical for a campus tour, or a tour of a city you just don't know about. the travel books may say stuff, but can you really trust those things? you can pod your experiences and tell people whether or not chez panisse is really worth it (and by experience, yes, it is), or if the japanese tea garden is a good place to visit (i would suggest the bison paddock).
interested? let's start our own company.
and companies can start hiring us to do these things! how cool is that!
aight. out of my delusions of grandeur, and back to reality.
anyone else think this guy is stupid?
these are the two people who i would most like to watch duke it out in a spelling bee.
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"mr. bolton, could you please spell
internacine? how about
transnational? no? what do you mean those words don't exist in your vocabulary? you mean to tell me you derided the united nations publicly, yet you're named the u.s. ambassador to that fine organization?"
"yes."
"bullshit!"
"bullshit. b-u-l-l-s-h-i-t. bullshit."
[ding]
"sigh. we move on to george w. bush."
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"mr. bush, your word is
potato."
"could you use it in a sentence?"
"johnny and martha ate a potato after baking it."
"potato. could i have the word's origin?"
"spanish, by way of quechua and taino."
"potato. p-aaaaaaaaooooo... t...
potato... a... t... o."
"that is--"
"e. p-o-t-a-t-o-e. potato. like uncle dan said."
"--incorrect, mr. president."
"i will launch a global struggle on violent extremism on you. jihadist. you probably endorse gay marriage which ruins the sanctity of that sacrament. and stem cell research. because god hates people like michael j. fox, ronald reagan, and pope john paul ii."
"i won't even go into that, mr. president."
"terrorist."
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every little ounce of energy that i had yesterday was spent moving. my entire body is sore, my legs and arms expecially, and all that's left to do is figure out the layout of the house so we can arrange our furniture.
come visit. our house needs some warming. email me for the address, or hell, call!
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two movies i want to see:
dukes of hazzard which is probably going to be not that good, but i really just want to see that part that they showed in the trailer where seann william scott goes, "let's put another shrimp on the barbie!"; and
sky high, because it looks so bad. and you know me with my penchant for bad movies.
sigh. when the day's done i just keep on moving. literally.
