Hahaha it's been a while since I've posted. Anyway, lots of stuff since then. I'm going to stanford next year, which is awesome. I visited during Admit Weekend, and had the time of my life. Good stuff. Track ended a couple of weeks ago. I ran a 2:04 at Sectionals in the 4x8, which was okay for me considering how slowly I've been running the whole season. School's also over, and graduation was the day before yesterday. I got to make a speech, which was cool, but unfortunately noone outside of the actual crowd of students could really hear anything. Not like it even matters, noone bothered listening anyway, and honestly, it's probably better that way--the speech was garbage. Anyway, not much else to say. I'm pretty happy that i finally have no more high school related obligations. Really happy. Now it's time to figure out what to do this summer.

In a little over a week, I'll find out what schools I'm accepted and rejected from. Wow. Hard to believe the big day's almost here.

I wish I had the ability to write poetry on a regular basis. It's just so hard to do. I envy all those poets who can just bust out and write whenever they feel like it. The only thing I can do on the spot like that is take a piss.

Last weekend I called laur up even though we barely even talk. It was awkward as hell. The worst part is is that I'm pretty sure I don't even like her, and she definitely thinks I'm obsessed or some shit. hahaha good stuff. The funniest thing is that she still uses me for outlines and music and homework help. Every conversation she nonchalantly starts with me inevitably ends up with some kind of request for help. I hinted at it earlier and she got soo defensive about it.. hilarious

anyway, I don't even know why i write on this thing. I am tired

I'm tired. So much to do. The work just never ends. And, on some level, it's my fault. If I hadn't spaced out all day I wouldn't be in this situation. But, I've been doing this for years, and nothing too bad has ever happened.

This is convenient. For whatever reason, I never feel compelled to tell other people how I'm feeling, or what my opinion is, or whatever. I can just write it down if I choose to. But that's only if I choose to. I just like the power to do be able to do it.

Anyway, meet tomorrow. 1000, 600, 4x4. Not looking forward to it. Haven't run much the past week. Been slacking off a little. At the same time, don't care. Enough said.

My supply of Berry Berry Kix is dwindling. I just constantly eat it whenever I'm at home. Which probably isn't such a great idea, but I just can't help myself.

I'm tired as hell. What am I doing typing here.

It's been a while

The last post I wrote on this thing was in 2004. Noone goes on here anymore, and that comforts me. I can write on here without anyone seeing. I don't know why I decided to resuscitate this blog. Maybe it's so I can write whatever I want. Maybe it's because I'm bored. Maybe I'll decide to stop this, or at least start a new one. In any case, it's been a long time. I don't even know what to write.

It's Valentine's Day. The day when we all are all reminded of whether or not we have a girlfriend. I'm not upset. I've moved on, but sometimes I wonder whether or not I want to get back with laur. And then I remember why I can't. Jeeeez. And that might be the only thing stopping me from trying to start something with her again.

Enough emotional shit. Test on The Brothers Karamazov tomorrow. And yet, I don't care. I just care so much less about school now. I'll skim through a few chapters probably.

Writing like this is sort of therapeutic. This is nice.

Mexico

As you all may or may not know, on Tuesday this spring break, I am going off to Mexico, where for the first time in five months, I will finally be able to play golf. Thank God. For the past week I have been dreaming off, spacing out, continuously lost in thought over the vacation. Golf is one of my great passions, and the thought of finally being able to play it consumes my mind and my thoughts. It pervades my dreams, and I can visualize myself playing golf at any given moment. Trying to write about the wonders of the game and the great time I will have in Mexico won't do any justice to the vision I have in my head, so I decided to draw it out:

*erhm* *cough* ...WELL THEN, I hope that my...umm...truthful* depiction of golf has some meaning to you now. However, I of course will verbalize it out for those of you who may not appreciate my art as much as I do.

*warning- may not be truthful

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I take a deep breath, inhaling the honey-sweet air of the golf course, and quickly exhale. I kneel down near to the ground, picking out a few blades of the dark green grass and, in an attempt to analyze my situation, I let go of the grass, seeing where the wind will take it. Immediately the grass floats out of my fingers and drifts out to my left. Eastward. I look to my right, and for a few moments I take in the beauty of the majestic Pacific, which is crashing into the rocky beach far below. The deep blue ocean pleasures my eyes for a few moments, but then my head swivels back left, to the green about a 150 yards ahead. It is oddly-shaped, the flagstick jutting out on the very right side of the green, the red flag blowing about, the wind gently tossing it from right to left. I loosen myself once more, rotating my head along my shoulders, and I am ready. I pull out my eight-iron, and take a few gentle, loose swings, my focus on the left side of the green, where I want to aim the ball. Stepping up to the ball, I begin my backswing, my eyes now facing the ball. I then bring the club down with speed and fluidity, and make contact. Click. Beautiful. The ball soars up high in the air and, as if hesitant, wobbles down and bounces onto the green. I have to shield my eyes, the bright sun still beating. But I'm still happy. I pick up my golf bag, and with confidence, I fix my divot, and walk towards the challenging, yet inviting, green ahead.

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Well, I think that went pretty well. However, I still enjoy my picture better than I do my written out version. *Sigh*

A fine balance

I have no idea how this works. First semester was filled with sleepless nights, impossible lab assignments, in-depth essays, tension-filled studying sessions after golf matches. It was filled with stress, and sleep was in scarce quantity. Now though, I find that I can sleep at 9:30 most nights without too much tension. Nights in which I have to stay up until 2:00 AM are incredibly uncommon, and life has become much easier. Is it because the golf season ended long ago, and now I have much more free time on my hands? No. Track consumes most of my after-school time, meets lasting up till 9:00 PM. My time before school is non-existent, as I go to 6:00 AM practices, forcing me to wake up at 5:15. Then is the workload decreasing? No, definitely not. Labs attack me constantly and homework and tests are ever-present. Do I have a study hall? No, that was replaced with a web design class. Then what happened? Have I gained time? The fact is, I don't know. My grades for some reason are still in tact as I juggle several difficult courses with greatly limited time. However, it may be my laziness getting to me. Coming into the first semester, I had an intense need to do extremely well in all my courses, but that desire is completely out of my system. Now, my easier courses, such as spanish and global studies have become less of a problem as I discontinue to study for the tests and quizzes and continue to do well. My more difficult classes, english and biology, still are highly prioritized though, providing me with healthy amounts of homework.

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My bio teacher told us today that to be successful is to be able to do well in school, while keeping our lives stress-free, with free time and a maintained social life. This freshman year has been treating me well, and I pray that I will also remain successful in that same way my bio teacher wanted us to be.

Postmortem

I am drowning. At first, the water is refreshing, cool. And then, the realization sets in. Being in the water for so long, I have dropped down too far. Looking up, I see a small glint of light, and around me, a darkness pulling me down. My arms and legs thrash about me, but it is too late. I am too deep in. My lungs are at its bursting point, and eventually, I am forced to exhale my breath forcefully, the bubbles of air, floating free to the sky. I scream and thrash, scream and thrash, but the glint of light grows smaller as I continue my descent down. My head is pounding and finally, I am forced to breathe in the cold, unforgiving water. My lungs scream out in pain, my entire body in convulsions of agony. Each movement of my arms and legs becomes weighted, and eventually all movement stops. In anger, fear, and pain I scream, in a last act of desperation. But it is too late. The light has disappeared, and no voice emits from my burning throat. I am alone, dying the worst possible death anyone can go through, next to a crucifixion. My brain cells are dying in scores as my oxygen-deprived body screams out an indescribable anguish, in defeat. Suddenly, it is over. The darkness overcomes, and death overtakes my body and my soul floats out of the water.

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Suddenly, the Mexican music pounds into my left ear as my alarm clock blinks: 6:00 AM. I slam my radio off, as I stumble out of bed and into the shower. It's a Monday, go figure.