Yumminess...

A few days ago, I met up with an old friend whom I had not seen for more than a few minutes at a time in at least a year. Almost every time I had seen Frankie since the end of high school he had been in a state of something other than sobriety. This time, though, we were just hanging out, driving around and enjoying each others' company. Catching up with an old friend has always proven to be an enjoyable activity to me. And this time was no different.

We were in my car, and for some reason, we decided to drive around the circular pick-up lane of the regional Gainesville airport. This didn't strike me as an overly exciting course of action, but Frankie insisted. I usually wouldn't partake in such an activity if I weren't trying to pick someone up from the airport, but given the rarity of the situation, I decided to comply and drive in circles for a while.

After probably the fifth lap, I began to grow weary of the monotonous music Frankie had been playing, so I went to adjust the station. Much to my surprise, I noticed that my control panel looked incredibly unfamiliar. Completely dumbfounded, I decided to investigate the matter further. As I closely examined my surroundings, and it quickly became apparent that the entire interior of my car was made of chewing tobacco. When in the world did that happen? I'd been driving this car for almost 5 years, and I'd never noticed chewing tobacco anywhere, let alone being the sole constituent of the entire car. Frankie, being the pushy and somehow strongly influential person that he is, encouraged me with aggressive zeal to indulge in my car.

I reluctantly decided to break off a chunk of my stearing wheel, and put it into my mouth. I bit into the chunk. Absolutely disgusted, and using Frankie's advice, I started spitting copious amounts of tobacco laden saliva out the window in a fashion that could only accurately be compared to the excretory methods of a steaming geyser. I continued with that for what seemed like an eternity, while the quantity seemed to defy logistics and increase as time went on. My level of disgust was so high, I had no other option to just close my eyes and stick with it until I freed myself of this burden.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a familiar shade of dark forest green, and immediately checked around me to make sure that the aforementioned spewing had not developed into a serious physical manifestation. The sense of relief that filled me when I realized it had not was overwhelming.

At this point, I feel that I have been brought to a related story pertaining to a completely unrelated event.

This past weekend, some friends and I went to Ginnie Springs, where we had the chance to drift along a nice big river. As we were flowing through, Richard and I noticed a man put a chunk of chewing tobacco into his mouth, and then a few seconds later, light up a cigarette. Unsure of the event that we had just witnessed, we felt it was necessary to ask the man if he was indeed performing both of these actions at the same time. His response was a powerful and proud, "Sure am!" We could not help but step back and admire this man for his extreme devotion to the tobacco industry. While so many others in the world are trying with every ounce of strength they have to quit the addictions of nicotine, this man was laughing in their faces, exclaiming, "Hah, for every ounce of tobacco you refrain from using, I'll use two more on my own!" What an incredible feat he was accomplishing.

So, I suppose the moral of my story, boys and girls, is that you should trust your dreams when they have to do with something you've never actually experienced in real life, because a lot of times, they tend to be fairly accurate. I don't need to chew or smoke tobacco to know that I think it would be utterly disgusting. But just in case I'm not sure, I can be confident that my dreams will be there to convince me with resounding gusto. And if you don't find this lesson of mine to be valuable in your own life, I hope you at least enjoyed reading about it.

Albertooooo!

I find it absolutely astounding how little I truly know. It might be easy for me to look back at my educational success, my GPAs and SATs and convince myself that I'm a profoundly wise and knowledgable individual. But to do so would be ignorant and naive beyond comprehension.

The fact is, I could easily go through every remaining day of my life and find multitudes of new information to learn. Just going to a new, difficult class and looking through the book is a wake up call. I have so much to learn in life.

But to look at that observation as strictly pertaining to book knowledge, as I've thus far described it to be, would be a severely narrow-minded approach. Whereas that book knowledge may help me with a job in the future, it is undoubtably the least important wisdom to possess.

For example, I have always been shy, especially around older people, and somehow I've managed to make it through life being manipulative enough to convince my parents to assist me in many assertive actions I must take. But I've learned recently that there really is no reason to be afraid. And furthermore, I am fully capable of dealing with all of these situations without assistance. In reality, if I had continued to stay passive and avoid any possible confrontation, I would have been royally screwed over for housing next year. This may not be book knowledge, but is certainly an important lesson to learn in life.

From this point forward, I will try to view life with my eyes fully open, looking for anything from which I can learn. But don't get me wrong. I know there is much more in life than being all knowing. And in all honesty, I really don't see myself as being an incredibly intelligent individual anyway; I just have this unfair ability to get by where others struggle.

Anywhoodle, thanks to Alberto, today is a fantastic day to pursue that desire to obtain more knowledge and study. So that is what I shall do. Enjoy your day friends.

Me pretty talk on a day of one.

Like a little Dream in wonderland she wandered into my home, completely bedazzled and awestruck by her new and foreign surroundings. She immediately flocked to the weathered and crotchety, old bird who wanted nothing more than a moderate amount of personal space. Explain the concept of personal space to a four year old child. It was not long before the bird was chirping and hissing violently toward the young girl.

Distractions, however, are commonplace at such a tender young age. It was easy to sway her attention to the mild-natured, gentle bunnies a room over - a much safer source for a child's delight. Her name was Kristy, a delightfully energetic child. The weather gloomed outside but remained devoid of rain. And yet, she insisted on sporting a bright green rain coat within the confines of my home. Intrigued, I prodded about the history of the child.

Kristy lived the first 9 months of her life in China, unwanted by her parents because she lacked one overwhelmingly important quality that Chinese people treasure so greatly - the proper genitalia. But fortunately, she was taken in by a charming, intelligent and exorbitantly kind young American woman. Being a single mother, she had to find the most suitable environment to keep watch of young Kristy as she worked. She, of course, chose a place very fond in her heart: the JCC (Jewish Community Center.) Now, to me, concept of a Jewish Asian (or Arian if I'm having difficulty typing) girl is one of utter hilarity, and in all honesty, probably the driving inspiration for this story.

After she enjoyed swimming in our pool and completed her mesmerization with Sleeping Beauty, we all sat down for a delicious dinner. As she was clearly entertained by me for some reason or another, indicated by the many stickers which now covered my attire, I decided to ask her questions about herself. Not knowing the extent of a four year old that she was, I asked her if she was going to be in kindergarten come Fall. To which she excitedly exclaimed, "I'm in Pre-K!" If I had only heard this statement, I would have assumed that this had been the most profound accomplishment in her life. When I realized that she had just recently had a birthday, it occurred to me that unless something goes seriously wrong, she will be one of the smartest children I will ever met. How could she not be? Chinese blood and Jewish rearing sound like a perfect formula for brilliance and stinginess.

This was a long day for the four year old. After eating some chicken, and bartering aggressively with her mother for the right to consume two rather than one of the cookies that she was in charge of making, she was thoroughly pooped. It was time for her day to come to an end. And with it came a lesson for me - when kids aren't bratty and obnoxious, they really can be a lot of fun and a breath of fresh air.

Note: Really, I just wanted to write an entry that was story-like rather than just reflective thought, and I thought the events of yesterday were good inspiration to do so. But off that topic, school is canceled tomorrow, and I'm elated. Have a great day! I know I will.

Raindrops keep fallin' on my head.

It isn't raining today. It rained yesterday for a long time, and it was glorious. I wish it rained everyday, for at least an hour. The temperature gets so ridiculously hot, rain really helps keep that down, and the freshness of the air afterwards is beautiful.

Speaking of yesterday and all of it's rainy awesomeness, grilling out, eating delicious birthday cake 3 days before someone's birthday, playing taboo, drinking ass loads of IBC soda, watching The Shining, and drinking virgin pina coladas is a fun time, I suggest trying it. And on that note, The Shining wasn't as creepy as I was hoping, and I really have no idea what the heck happened in it.

Passions

Passions - an essential part of life. No, I'm not referring to the NBC soap opera. That show was just never the same after little Timmy passed away...

But anyway, back to the point. It is absolutely necessary to have something in your life that you're passionate about. I've been thinking about this lately. I used to be passionate about music. Being in band and working together with a group of people to create music was an amazing thing. It was one of the best feelings in the world. Going home and downloading the pieces that we played, or downloading a bunch of other pieces, and imagining playing them was a huge part of my life. It was really one of the driving forces that got me through high school, and developed me into the person I am today.

College is a completely different beast than high school, though. Band is no longer a part of my life, and even when I tried to put it in, it still wasn't the same. We met twice a week; hardly the daily practice I was used to from high school. And with band went overwhelming affinity for classical music.

That fact, however didn't dawn on me until recently. I was going through the music on my computer, and started listening to literature I hadn't listened to in ages. Pieces I had played in high school - I had to have at least sight read 100+ pieces, and played a good chunk of those multiple times. Just listening caused memories and emotions I hadn't felt almost 2 years to completely consume me. I miss having music as a large part of my life.

I wondered, if music is no longer one of my primary passions, what is? But it's obvious, isn't it? People are my passion. The driving force in my life is motivation to see and communicate with people. It made me realize how easy it is to take people in your life for granted (but that's an entirely different topic all together, and should be left off for another time.)

Regardless though, everyone has to be passionate about something in life, otherwise, what is it that you live for? I hope to expand my horizons, and be passionate about more than what I already am. What are you passionate about? If you don't know, make it a goal to discover what that is.