Favorite Words

Nope. I'm not talking about pants. Not this time.

I remember a time in third grade when Ms. Sharp was asking for verbs. I raised my hand and said, "Disembowel!", and awaiting praise for my multi-syllabled smart word, I was instead harangued for my morbidity. Hey... Jurassic Park was the new hot thing.

Anyways, my most favorite recent word is one of which I have no idea what the meaning is, but the music still plays in my head and makes me want to do opium, solve mysteries, speak quickly in a low British accent, and fade out of existence into self-imposed exclusion on account of my hopelessly incurable introversion.

What is this word? I will give you five worthless house points if you guess it!

Parataxis: Recipe for the Super Sleuth

I am sitting here in the library between classes. It's noon. I am hungry. I think of hamburgers. Someone nearby smells of intense sunblock lotion mixed with ocean breeze. Curse my wolverine sense of smell...

I've got this assignment due in a few hours, but I've hit a roadblock. A sonnet... so structured and so subjective. Maybe the teacher is on to me. Maybe she knows I'm not like her other students. They write about love and cheesy emotional crap. I write about the irony and stupidity of English classes. What can I say, I like to be fresh... but not too fresh.

The smell is getting stronger, but at least it takes away my appetite. In an hour I'll report to 295. They'll tear my work apart and call me a failure. Whatever. I can run circles around those clowns.

Life is getting monotonous. I wake up every day between eight and ten. On days like this I'll just sit around and wait for something to happen. But it's always the same. Go to class. Go to work. Fill the hours in between with naps, books, and season premieres that I missed. It's nothing to brag about but it's life, and it keeps me going. But I know it's not forever. There's always a twist. I can feel one coming, and it ain't just that 10k on Saturday my little sister got me into. Something's about to happen. What can a man do but wait for it?

Now I'm thinking of those Samosas I ate yesterday. Not bad. That was a break from the monotony. What is life, but a long string of monotony punctuated by periods of exaltation and great misfortune? That's what we get for being creatures of habit. Just like the words on this blog... sentence after sentence in no seeming rank. What's the difference between one sentence and the next except the words? Would we be happy any other way? I don't think we'd look forward to stuff as much as we do if we experienced it every day. So what am I looking forward to? Maybe that something that is about to happen. Maybe it's not a good thing. Then again, if it's a misfortune, then I can always write about it. Sometimes people like that stuff. Sometimes they laugh. I know Jonny does. Good-for-nothing Jonny sittin on his high throne at the headhunter's.

Maybe that's what I'm waitin for. November is a long time away. At least a few essays away. They'll see... it's gonna blow 'em away.

The smell of sunblock is back. I decide to get my files in order.

Lose Much?

Imagine my voice to be Dustin Hoffman's for this entry.

This week has been a string of utter domination! I began by wiping everyone up on pick-up basketball and then ping pong! Then I killed all those rookies in volleyball!! Then our intramural flag football team ACTUALLY WON!!! (insert confetti and hallelujah chorus here) Hoowah, I'm just gettin warmed up! I'm done...

Ok, back to my voice:
Yes indeed, team Spizzerinctum won their first game against a ward team that only showed up with six players! Who cares about the numbers... the real issue here is: WATCH OUT COME NOVEMBER PUNY BABIES AND WIMPY PLOOFBALLS! SOMEone (and I'm not sayin' who) is gonna be in SHAPE!!

Prose and Cons (Snicker)

Once upon a time in a place that is now simply a patch of air high above the graveyard of Deseret Towers I had a very unique roommate. This person came from a very affluent family from the east coast, so despite the nerdiness we shared, we had a lot of difficulty communicating. I suppose such aristocrats didn't mingle with commoners as myself. I vowed that year to never become one of his kind--those unbalanced, hoity-toity, speaking-with-a-lisp, grammar-nazi, English majors.

English major.

Six years and several D's later, I am here... taking stylistic criticism, rhetorical analysis, creative writing, and British literature history... very much an English major. Why would I ever thtoop to thuch a level?

Well, when I first moved in to my new apartment, we didn't have a TV. I was kind of excited about the idea of having to read to fill my free time... I am currently residing in the fantastic and eerily-similar-to-Harry-Potter world of Percy Jackson. Rick Riordan is a bit juvenile, but also very clever. I mean, he gave Charybdis braces!! That's the kind of creativity I most enjoy!

As such, with my new creative writing class, I am required to write poetry... my least favorite form of literature. I have done it before... I once wrote a lament for the Astros of 2004 who last in game seven to the Cards. Perhaps another Yao Ming injury will provide ample inspiration... jinx!!

Oh yeah, I really thought the title of this entry is one of my best yet. Punny, no?