(no subject)
I got back from Tampa nearly three hours ago. Slightly more, I guess, but nearly still works as an adverb in that situation.
The drive back was not even close to being as lame as the drive there, which was refreshing. It almost four hours to get to my aunts' and uncle's place due to a plethora of accidents. Like five of them. Maybe six. I lost count when deciding how to appropriate the word "fuck" into my admonitions toward traffic. It basically boiled down to "Fuck this." Eloquent.
I am sitting in the office now, listening to random music and putting some words into a document that will be my final column as sports editor for this paper. I feel like this should be more poignant. But it isn't. Production day will come and I will spend most of it wishing I were not here, and then I will leave. I guess we might all go out, but right now I don't particularly care. Mentally, I am just done with all of this. I am. It makes me feel quite terrible to say that, but this has put such a toll on me. Plus, it's not like this has been the greatest semester of all time.
I am sunburned on my entire face and my right arm. It is a good thing for the right arm, considering that it was a full seven shades lighter than the left one, which spends most of its time propped out my driver's side window when I drive. The face thing, though, that sucks. It feels like a massive headache constantly, which sucks. I keep spelling sucks as "suchs." It is annoying. Anyway, now I feel completely terrible, and my stomach hurts. Like, a lot.
I was supposed to go see some Red Sox games in St. Pete this weekend, but tickets were way too expensive and way too terrible to warrant the drive and hassle of being at the games. Televisions exist for a reason. Plus the draft was on, and heaven forbid I miss eight hours of talking heads and one man reading names. Thrilling, I know.
I get paid Thursday, and that means I will be more flush than I have been in a while. And while it might be prudent to focus on getting my shit out of a house a no longer pay rent for and is being foreclosed on, I have decided to shirk that responsibility and probably get a tattoo. Because that's what being a kid is all about.
Great, now there is some loud banging outside. At three o'clock in the fucking morning. Isn't this how episodes of Law and Order start? As if being in this office alone isn't terrifying enough. Balls, man. If someone is dead outside I am going to shit myself. No bodies outside that I can see with my 4.2-second check. Eff that. Safe for now probably.
I leave for Lincoln in exactly three weeks from right now. /craps pants.
My eyes are closing by themselves now, and I am only 175 words into a column that should at least be five times that.
So the column is rounded out to 575 right now, to be amended when Kevin Smith gets drafted. Color me slightly pleased with the outcome. Not my best work, but it's decent enough, I think.
I just spent about an hour and a half researching stats on two running backs. Gathering this information makes me feel as though there is potential for some decent copy editing in my future.
Heard.
All right, I need to go do something else. It is so early that it is now late. And I won't be able to sleep before I have to be back at work. I do need to shower though.
The drive back was not even close to being as lame as the drive there, which was refreshing. It almost four hours to get to my aunts' and uncle's place due to a plethora of accidents. Like five of them. Maybe six. I lost count when deciding how to appropriate the word "fuck" into my admonitions toward traffic. It basically boiled down to "Fuck this." Eloquent.
I am sitting in the office now, listening to random music and putting some words into a document that will be my final column as sports editor for this paper. I feel like this should be more poignant. But it isn't. Production day will come and I will spend most of it wishing I were not here, and then I will leave. I guess we might all go out, but right now I don't particularly care. Mentally, I am just done with all of this. I am. It makes me feel quite terrible to say that, but this has put such a toll on me. Plus, it's not like this has been the greatest semester of all time.
I am sunburned on my entire face and my right arm. It is a good thing for the right arm, considering that it was a full seven shades lighter than the left one, which spends most of its time propped out my driver's side window when I drive. The face thing, though, that sucks. It feels like a massive headache constantly, which sucks. I keep spelling sucks as "suchs." It is annoying. Anyway, now I feel completely terrible, and my stomach hurts. Like, a lot.
I was supposed to go see some Red Sox games in St. Pete this weekend, but tickets were way too expensive and way too terrible to warrant the drive and hassle of being at the games. Televisions exist for a reason. Plus the draft was on, and heaven forbid I miss eight hours of talking heads and one man reading names. Thrilling, I know.
I get paid Thursday, and that means I will be more flush than I have been in a while. And while it might be prudent to focus on getting my shit out of a house a no longer pay rent for and is being foreclosed on, I have decided to shirk that responsibility and probably get a tattoo. Because that's what being a kid is all about.
Great, now there is some loud banging outside. At three o'clock in the fucking morning. Isn't this how episodes of Law and Order start? As if being in this office alone isn't terrifying enough. Balls, man. If someone is dead outside I am going to shit myself. No bodies outside that I can see with my 4.2-second check. Eff that. Safe for now probably.
I leave for Lincoln in exactly three weeks from right now. /craps pants.
My eyes are closing by themselves now, and I am only 175 words into a column that should at least be five times that.
So the column is rounded out to 575 right now, to be amended when Kevin Smith gets drafted. Color me slightly pleased with the outcome. Not my best work, but it's decent enough, I think.
I just spent about an hour and a half researching stats on two running backs. Gathering this information makes me feel as though there is potential for some decent copy editing in my future.
Heard.
All right, I need to go do something else. It is so early that it is now late. And I won't be able to sleep before I have to be back at work. I do need to shower though.