"Hey Ya'll, Watch This!"

That's what the redneck said before he died. What does it have to do with my post? I don't know... if you really read deep--deeper than I ever intended to write--perhaps you'll find a connection, and then you can let me know.
Back in high school, I had this really lousy injury. When I say lousy, I'm talking it put me out of basketball practice for a week or so, and what with my small stature, I couldn't really afford to miss too much practice, if you know what I mean... The worst thing about it was that it was diagnosed as a deep bruise. As mythical and pansy as that sounds, it backs itself up with a complete lack of swelling... not even any discoloration! So there I was, missing practice for probably what most people, including the coaches, thought was an injury completely conjured in my imagination.
So here at school, tonight, in the first offensive play of our tournament game of this football team I managed to get on, I split the defenders but pay the price. I knew it right after it happened... it happened again. Deep bruise. The pain was so severe at first it made me nauseated, and I HATE being nauseated! I'd rather be hit in the gut with a cannon ball! Then again, that would probably make me nauseated of itself, so the scenario is void. What I'm trying to say is, it's gonna be a loooong week.
But long weeks are not without their perks. Imagine when Saturday rolls around, and the long week is over! Then I get to sit down and enjoy conference, crossing my fingers that Pres. Uchtdorf brings up sportsmanship again.

Now for something totally unrelated!

Here's a shout out to Dan Patrick and a shout down to the miserable Rick Reilly. For the former, I've always considered your show entertaining. For the latter, you can bag on Jimmer's D all you want, but when you bring the church into it, that's just unprofessional, especially when you showcase your ignorance with such things as "no-caffeine honor code". That last bit was actually included in a response to Mr. Reilly himself, bless his little heart.
Then I got to thinking... as an aspiring columnist myself, would I be willing to write that which is controversial, stupid, ignorant, and offensive to great populations for the sake of sensationalism? Well, if I was a sports columnist, I would do naught but bag on big market teams like the Lakers and Yankees, which would most assuredly offend huge masses of people. This is probably why I would never be a sports columnist unless if it was for some joke website like DownWithTheMan.Com, which isn't a real website... yet. Needless to say, I would certainly make mistakes with my amateur attitude.
And who am I to judge what Reilly did as a mistake? Well, I'm not much of one for it, but I think Dan Patrick is.

Inspiration from Nerdy Bands

Why don't we see more nerdy bands? Perhaps we do... or perhaps I just don't pay enough attention to the musical culture in Japan. Moment of silence.
Anyways, what with basketball being over and all, I think it was a great run this year. Despite all the downcast countenances last night, I am really happy for our team. Sweet 16 for the first time in 30 years, Jimmer being pretty much on top of the world, and ESPN giving us a shout out for upholding our standards amidst Davies-Gate [getting booed for the cliche there].
So here's to a great run this year in basketball! What an exit! Raise a glass of apple-raspberry juice which I swear, next to Martinelli's, is the closest I have ever gotten to alcohol--you know, special occasion type drinks.
So then the conversation turns to next most exciting thing: next year's football. And then it turns to our marching band, and how they epitomize the nerdiness of BYU [some jock comes out of nowhere and punches me in the face]. I mean, Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, and of all the popular songs that suggest domination or sticking it to the man, we go with the Imperial March from Star Wars.
I think it's great!
Let's take Lord of the Rings, for instance. Should our quarterback be likened to Legolas, he would never miss a pass! In fact, he could take that football, stiff arm an opponent with it right in the chest, run up the back of another opponent and leap off his head to throw a strike right to the reciever 100 yards down the field, who likened unto Aragorn, would never drop a pass. Then again, none of this would even matter, because you had an offensive line of nothing but cave trolls, so nobody's getting through. Well, in reality we have Polynesians, which is about as close as you get.
"There will be a day when the pride and honor of BYU comes crashing down around us, but IT IS NOT THIS DAY!!"
And what's wrong with having Wizards on the field? There's a professional sports team with the name, albeit they are certainly not wizards on the court.
So, enjoy the optimism on sports while it lasts. From here on out, it's naught but tournament in my wonderful job, so I'm gonna have my fair share of venting to do here before the end of the semester.

What's Math Got to Do With It?

Ok, so I've got all my requirements signed up for and by August, I should be done with classes. Let's see the fireworks, everyone!! Hooray!
But then, there is this stupid foreign language credit, which says I have to take four semesters for it... and I says, "What about all those math classes I vainly took? Do they not transfer over?" And the university says, "Nope. Here's an atomic wedgie to your future!"
Well, I figure I can get by in Spanglish 205 without taking any extra semesters. The difficult thing is actually getting into that class. Hello, academic advisor!
So, by the sheer force of my determination and my own refusal to accept another fall semester here, I will see it done! "But Monsieur Madeleine!!" I WILL SEE IT DONE!!
For those of you who don't know, I finish with BA in English and a minor in Communications, planning to be alternately licensed to become a high school teacher in English and Journalism, and during this time also to have my own online column for some commercial purpose, probably an online LDS column, or maybe a sports blog if I'm really masochistic. I also plan to write books and stuff.
Also, also, check out my goodreads profile, if you're wondering about what to read for fun and you're into the really-nerdy-but-not-as-nerdy-as-Star-Trek-or-Star-Wars novels.

And it's like the fog has lifted...

I took a survey for Martinellis the other day. One question asked, "What would be the ideal situation for you to be drinking Martinellis?" I answered, "On an island that I own, tanned and rested and alone... surrounded by enormous piles of money!" Snicker....

When I talk to my dad on the phone, he usually asks where I'm gonna be in August. Trust me pops, not a day goes by where I don't ask myself that same thing. But, as big things loom on the horizon like dusky clouds of mystery and indecision, I find that my ability to scatter them and bask in the sun of accomplishment always comes through.
[pulls a trumpet out of his own pocket and plays it]

So where will I be come August? No idea... but I didn't know what I was going to write my popular bridge for 361 on until tonight, and then it hit me like a brilliant revelation of success! "I propose to compare the Cask of Amontillado to the Count of Monte Cristo" [takes a bow amidst thundering applause].
So I could only sing in my head, "At last I see the light!" But strangely enough, when I sing this cheesy Disney song in my head, there's always a girl singing with me. So, does that mean that to scatter the clouds of the unknown, there must needs be some female in the instrumentality of my own wordiness? Just the thought makes the clouds seem darker and bigger and more ominous and more... feminine.

"I've got scrapes and lumps and bruises, and something here that oozes, and let's not even mention my complexion..."

Dream Journal

I had a dream the other day that I was a wizard, like one from Harry Potter. I was in a chapel somewhere, and I just kept avada kedavraing everybody. I was one wicked sweet evil wizard, probably still haling from house Hufflepuff. In fact, one specific instance, there was a girl who came in and saw her friend lying dead in the hallway (courtesy of yours truly). She was so distraught that she sat down on the couch in the lobby, just across the room from me. I offered to take her pain away with the magic, and she closed her eyes in submission. I could only point my wand right at her temple, and whisper... "Avada Kedavra..."
Then this crazy music started going off and everyone was under a spell to dance like in that old Disney movie Hocus Pocus with the talking cat. I was dancing too, and my dancing was way cooler and slightly more evil than everyone else's who wasn't dead yet. I was just thinking, "Man, it 's so cool to be EVIL!"
After I woke up in a cold sweat, I had to stare at myself in the mirror for like five minutes. My hair was uncontrollably long, and my eyes were sunken from broken sleep... and I wondered, was this dream a freudian slip of my dark side? I guess I've just been reading too much Poe lately... or maybe the fee's too pricey for them to realize my disguise is slipping; everything's slipping, away, so...