Sunday, April 15, 2007 | by nathan

standardized testing

So you know this thing I have going on where I kinda hate grad school? And where I’ve promised myself not to think about what – if any – school I might want to do in the future? Well.

I’ve been thinking about it. Not on purpose! But I do work at a law school, where I have a lot of opportunities to attend really cool events where people talk about the law and how rewarding its practice is. So, I decided something small. I’m going to take the LSAT sometime in the next year. That’s all. Just gonna take it, see how I do. Nothing more. Just to see.

Thursday, April 12, 2007 | by nathan

reeling, shock

Wow. Kurt Vonnegut’s dead. That – sucks.

Cat’s Cradle is the only book I have ever read while driving, because it was THAT GOOD, and I had SOMEWHERE TO BE, and COULDN’T PUT IT DOWN. As soon as things settle down I might go back and read it again. I always said I would kill to be able to write like that man. I got to sit across an aisle from him when he came to speak at Oklahoma City University in 2003; so close I could smell the man. I’ll never forget that.

Damn. 

Tuesday, April 10, 2007 | by nathan

somethin’s bout to happen when the bitch gets back

I’ve been getting an inordinate amount of blog spam lately. I have a couple filters installed, so none of it gets through, and it’s not like moderating comments takes a lot of time on a blog like this, but it’s irritating. I don’t like that someone is using something personal and vital to me to try to get stupid people to buy tramadol from Turkey.

And so, I have decided to do something about it. I’m tracking down and keeping a database of every bit of spam that comes to me. I’m finding out where they originated from and who owns the sites they advertise, and I’m going after them. If I’m successful, it’s possible I will be thrown in prison for harassment, but that’s good for you, reader, because when was the last time you read a really good prison-rape blog?

Tuesday, April 10, 2007 | by nathan

hm!

This weekend my brother made dinner for us. When I got to his house he started teasing me: he had invited a "mystery guest" to dinner, and it was someone I knew, and that he knew, but that he didn’t know through me.

All these tantalizing clues, right?

So we start to eat dinner and chill out with a few beers, and the whole time I’m calling out guesses. He refused to tell me if any of the guesses were correct, though I figured it had to be someone I knew from high school, and someone I hadn’t seen in a long time since – not really a big surprise if this "mystery guest" had been to my house in the last month.

Finally we heard the sound of a car door slamming outside, and in walked a friend of mine from high school, Tatum. Turned out her cousin is one of my brother’s roommates, which I actually knew, but had forgotten. Though I must note, that in my calling out of random high school names, she did come up, and so I did guess correctly. I must note that in the ongoing ledger of victories I have won over my little brother.

It was good seeing her again. I had actually run into her about a year ago at a friend’s bridal shower, but we hadn’t had much of a chance to talk then. Oftentimes I get hand-wringingly nervous when I run into someone from high school, because my general philosophy is that if we didn’t have a lot to say to each other back then, we’re probably not friends now. But then there are the people with whom you just lose touch, who you’d love to see again. It was good to talk to Tatum.

As is inevitable in those conversations, the topic turned to people we knew in high school and what is happening to them today. Personally, I could’ve spent a few more minutes reminiscing about the day the cheerleading squad dropped their captain from the top of a tall pyramid, because it was incredibly funny, but I guess decorum dictates we not spend too long on that one.

Now. Something to note about the Class of 1998 at Westmoore High School: we weren’t known as one of those ‘achiever classes’ that leaves a lasting impression on the teachers or, say, a senior gift of any kind. Our class song was "Good Riddance" by Green Day. (You might know it as "Time of Your Life.") Our senior class president – an office for which I ran and lost – was an incredibly nice guy named Zach who, it is possible, was not born so much as he was magically pulled directly from the lyrics of a country music song. Despite the fact that I lost to him, I rather liked him and we got along well.

Another thing to understand about the Class of ‘98 is that when its members meet up now, there is the inevitable sucking-of-the-breath-through-clenched-teeth and going, "So, what’s up with Zach?" I won’t get into the whole business, but will note that he was on the evening news and that even now dances just inches from a lengthy prison sentence. The details are not sexy – it was a financial matter, let’s say – and no one was killed, raped, maimed or impaled. Still, Zach was rather embarassed by the whole thing, I suppose, and so Tatum, herself a senior class officer, has been left in charge of planning our ten-year reunion.

And so, the other night, amidst reminisces and bottles of beer, she asked if I would help.

And I said yes.

My brother’s jaw dropped to the floor. Apparently they had a bet; he was convinced – absolutely sure - that I would tell her to take her reunion and cram it. Thing is, I’m glad to help. I mostly walked around high school feeling like E.T. or Daria, yes, wondering what the hell was going on with all the stupid people and when the hell I’d get to escape to college, but also, in the mid-90s angst was so fashionable and one of my ways of being a contrarian – my natural state of being – was to just kind of go with the flow and be as happy as possible. 

Don’t get me wrong. The only way I’d go back to high school now is if I got to be taller, sexier, and completely equipped with every bit of knowledge and spiritual wisdom I have now and three AK-47s. But it wasn’t all bad, and I found that I wasn’t even all that surprised by my agreeability to helping plan the reunion.

Or, it was the beer.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007 | by nathan

…for these works of Your hands…

So, I just read this, and I think it’s pretty cool. I don’t agree with every assertion the guy makes, but since when is being a believer about agreeing with everything all the other believers say? Here’s an excerpt to titillate you:

Reason alone cannot prove the existence of God. Faith is reason plus revelation, and the revelation part requires one to think with the spirit as well as with the mind. You have to hear the music, not just read the notes on the page. Ultimately, a leap of faith is required.

But why couldn’t this [evolution] be God’s plan for creation? True, this is incompatible with an ultra-literal interpretation of Genesis, but long before Darwin, there were many thoughtful interpreters like St. Augustine, who found it impossible to be exactly sure what the meaning of that amazing creation story was supposed to be. So attaching oneself to such literal interpretations in the face of compelling scientific evidence pointing to the ancient age of Earth and the relatedness of living things by evolution seems neither wise nor necessary for the believer.

He goes on to say that he became a Christian because he could not stand living with ‘uncertainty,’ to which I would remind him that faith is often about living with – accepting – uncertainties and believing in the face of them. Whether or not you ascribe to the Judeo/Christian way of thinking and believing, I think anyone who is truly interested in logical cohesion would admit that asserting the non-existence of God is, also, a leap of faith.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007 | by nathan

It Keeps You Running…i hope…

Yesterday I mailed a cashier’s check to cover the very last bit of a debt I racked up several years ago. I was expecting it to hurt a lot more than it did, financially speaking, but when I balanced my checkbook afterward I found that – oh! – I have quite a bit more money left over than I thought I would.

So!

back in the fall I bought a wonderful new pair of running shoes from NikeID, which I had designed myself on their website. These shoes have the ability, along with some fancy pieces of computerage from Apple, to act as a kind of pedometer, tracking how far you run, how many calories you burn, etc. I never bought the extra computerage because, well, no magic money had deposited itself into my account.

But yesterday, it sorta did. So, I treated myself, fought AIDS (a little), and did a tiny little something for my health. I did 2.08 miles last night, though I won’t tell you what my mile-per-minute was, because it’s kinda sad. Let’s just say it’s a good thing a pack of hungry wolves wasn’t chasing me.

Monday, April 2, 2007 | by nathan

“You never know which STD you’re going to get…”

Okay, so Brian and I just wasted 30 minutes watching the end of Forrest Gump. I hate this movie. Truth be told, I hate almost any movie starring Tom Hanks – with the possible exception of A League of Their Own and Philadelphia, and especially anything starring Tom Hanks and having anything at all to do with Robert Zemeckis.

I never could put my finger on why, exactly, I hated this movie that so many other people seem to love. I mean, okay – it’s got more than its share of suck. Like the whole thing where he runs for 3 years? And especially the part with the yellow t-shirt? Come on, don’t tell me that wasn’t some old bullshit. It has something to do with the fact that I hate movies that seem set out from the beginning to make me cry, which Forrest Gump clearly was. 

Here’s what I realized tonight. Here’s what I hate about Forrest Gump:

Jenny.

We are given Jenny very early in the film, and from moment one until the end – when she dies of AIDS – oh, whoops, sorry: SPOILER ALERT – she’s just a big, rollocking, whoring-whore, sleeping with anything that moves, performing at one point in a nudie bar, snorting lines and lines of coke in a disco, leaving man after man, and especially our obsequious but more-or-less likable titular hero. Yes, okay, so I admit that Forrest as a character is likable, but Jenny? How in the hell are we supposed to believe that any man, even a man as stupid as Forrest, would spend his ENTIRE.LIFE putting up with her bullshit? I mean, really? And then to marry her at the end, after she reveals that, oh, by the way, I got pregnant by you – you know, before I ran off on you the last time, leaving you to spend three years running away from your own horrible depression – and I’ve been keeping this kid from you for four or five years, and now I have AIDS because I’m such a whore, but do you think you could marry me real quick before I up and die? Thanks, you’re a peach.

As far as I can tell, Jenny has not one single redeeming quality, and the fact that Forrest keeps on taking her back makes me hate him – and the movie that is named after him – even more. Just thinking about how I just spend 30 minutes of my life, which should’ve been spent writing my thesis, on watching this tripe makes me want to go punch Robert Zemeckis in the face.

Okay, so – comments are open. What movies drive you up the wall?