Hopping From Topics & A Pic
I do not know why I saved my Sun Spot Project from imminent obliteration (albeit, I know what Herr Guzman was going to do with the unclaimed projects). I suppose my last minute heroics have something to do with the amount of ink and time spent in paint shop during Sun Spot Projects creation. And, after all, it saved me once. So the question becomes, why wouldn’t I save it?
I fixed my truck, thus I once again have the illusion of something to do for the summer. I’ve not left Gainesville in the past two months and now feel that I am a slave to NCAA ‘04. There are no new amusing party stories from Tallahassee, no new midnight rendezvous with Lakeland friends, and no trips (never) to Orlando despite my pre-Gainesville optimism. I would further mention Atlanta on this list of cities once frequented and now abandoned, but I stopped my annual visits there long ago.
Moving on, it occurs to me that I could be going in debt very soon, right now perhaps. Taking thirteen hours worth of classes (none of which necessarily make me exclaim, "I can’t wait!”), one-hundred ten on a new battery (Sears Die-Hard... Wow), and the knowledge that school books are coming to rape the remains of my wallet seem to all be looming indications, more appropriately, problems. A few years ago I had a lot of money, but I am happier now I suppose. Kudos to me for making that choice.
It is very clear to me that I only have this journal to show off my writing prowess (I say something to the effect every seven entries or so). No, I am not the best writer around, or even the best writer I know for that matter. Probably not even the best writer of all people on my LJ “fiends” list, but I am above adequate, no, I am damn good. Not because of the content or conxetual usage of material, but I think it has to do more with the sentence flow, or my diversity of vernacular. Then again, I may not actually think that. I just like that sentence and, admittedly, I am full of myself.
Finally, I feel that, in my case at least, the distance between victory and defeat is virtually unchartable, even to the best of cartographers I would imagine. No thin lines here. What was it that made the final week of last fall's campaign amazing and the final week of this spring's besieging so different? And furthermore, why am I caught in this vicious cycle of thinking about it? Alas, the summer front is on the way to redeem me...
Fokker In Flames
I would like to think that this guy made it out okay, but they just didn’t put much stock in parachutes back then.
I compose this now…
Not for the haikus sake, but…
For traditions sake.
-James
P.S. Though rather fascinating, war really sucks.
P.P.S. I am probably just a little sad that I cannot go to the pool, bastard cloud cover.
I fixed my truck, thus I once again have the illusion of something to do for the summer. I’ve not left Gainesville in the past two months and now feel that I am a slave to NCAA ‘04. There are no new amusing party stories from Tallahassee, no new midnight rendezvous with Lakeland friends, and no trips (never) to Orlando despite my pre-Gainesville optimism. I would further mention Atlanta on this list of cities once frequented and now abandoned, but I stopped my annual visits there long ago.
Moving on, it occurs to me that I could be going in debt very soon, right now perhaps. Taking thirteen hours worth of classes (none of which necessarily make me exclaim, "I can’t wait!”), one-hundred ten on a new battery (Sears Die-Hard... Wow), and the knowledge that school books are coming to rape the remains of my wallet seem to all be looming indications, more appropriately, problems. A few years ago I had a lot of money, but I am happier now I suppose. Kudos to me for making that choice.
It is very clear to me that I only have this journal to show off my writing prowess (I say something to the effect every seven entries or so). No, I am not the best writer around, or even the best writer I know for that matter. Probably not even the best writer of all people on my LJ “fiends” list, but I am above adequate, no, I am damn good. Not because of the content or conxetual usage of material, but I think it has to do more with the sentence flow, or my diversity of vernacular. Then again, I may not actually think that. I just like that sentence and, admittedly, I am full of myself.
Finally, I feel that, in my case at least, the distance between victory and defeat is virtually unchartable, even to the best of cartographers I would imagine. No thin lines here. What was it that made the final week of last fall's campaign amazing and the final week of this spring's besieging so different? And furthermore, why am I caught in this vicious cycle of thinking about it? Alas, the summer front is on the way to redeem me...
Fokker In Flames
I would like to think that this guy made it out okay, but they just didn’t put much stock in parachutes back then.
I compose this now…
Not for the haikus sake, but…
For traditions sake.
-James
P.S. Though rather fascinating, war really sucks.
P.P.S. I am probably just a little sad that I cannot go to the pool, bastard cloud cover.