Please Comment

This is directed at the few random people from random states (El Reno, Oklahoma; Herndon, Virginia) who seem to regularly visit the blog. I realize that there is a chance that my hit counter site may just get confused and that you may actually be people living in Lincoln, but it would still be neat to hear from everybody who has stopped in on purpose, unlike my non-friends from Rio De Janeiro, Hong Kong, and the random Chinese citizens who must have misclicked because they stayed for zero seconds. I can't necessarily blame them, because I can't see how I would make it past the Chinese Internet Blockade anyway, what with my crazy democratic and capitalist ideals and my ridiculously staunch opposition to communism. Actually, I'm a pretty big socialist, but if I were China, I'd block me just to be safe. Plus it would be cool to be blocked from a whole country. I got banned from Texas for a year once, but I think being banned from China would be cooler.

Bitter

I was totally going to write a bit more about Barthelme, but I'm just bitter over the lack of comments (thanks Katie). Instead, I will throw a temper tantrum. *Holds breath*

Obligatory Donald Barthelme

I've been putting off responding to Barthelme because I am still somewhat undecided. When I like a story of his, I love it, but when I dislike one, I really loathe it. Because I'm bad at doing what I'm told (and I hate only reading parts of a book), I just started reading from the beginning of the book rather than sticking to the assigned stories. Stories I loved include: A Shower of Gold, Me and Miss Mandible, Game, A Manual for Sons, The School. I like these stories at least in part because of what they taught me. The lessons include: list things in my stories, don't be afraid of relevant tangents, stand everything on its head, be weird sometimes. As I'm writing this blog, I already see a little bit of Barthelme seeping in. The good Barthelme that I understand and appreciate. There is bad Barthelme for me. Bad Barthelme appears in stories such as: For I'm the Boy, Will You Tell Me?, Alice. I enjoy the feeling of spinning out of control that I get in a story like Game, but in stories like Alice I feel like I am thrown off of the spinning thing. I don't like being thrown off of things. I'm reluctant to admit this, because I really do enjoy new and different things. I don't want to be tropophobic. I am willing to look things up that I don't understand or accept definitions that the author gives me, but I don't feel like I should need somebody to explain a story to me. If that is the case, I think it is a bad story.

Even in the bad stories, there are moments where Barthelme's (proper possessive grammar?) genius shines light down and cues the Angel Choir. Lines like "...and Shotwell has a .25 caliber Beretta which I do not know about strapped to his right calf" absolutely slay me with their deadpan delivery. In airing all of my thoughts, I guess that I have made up my mind to like Donald Barthelme. My only gripe is that everything he writes isn't brilliant in my eyes, which is a product of my own unreasonable expectations for him. I know that even Babe Ruth hit some grounders, but I don't watch old clips to see grounders and I don't read to see stories that appear to be a random smashing of words and phrases onto a page. Somewhere the tone of this turned negative, and I'm not sure why.

200

Yep, 200 unique visits. Hooray you guys. I'm guessing that after the class is over, it's pretty much going to stop at whatever number it happens to be on, but I'm going to keep blogging anyway.

Ridiculous Pain

I have a pinched sciatic nerve. Again. For those of you unfamiliar with the sciatic nerve, it is a gigantic bundle of nerves that runs from the small of your back through your butt down into your leg. What this means is that I literally have a huge pain in my ass. There is no "cure," just some stretches that I can do and some prescription strength Aleve that I have left from last time. The Aleve don't work. It's going to be a long day.

Social Skill Apocalypse

So Chelsea, Charles, and myself frequently comment on each others' blog, yet I never really speak to them in person. I find that odd. I think we would have interesting (read also weird) conversations, and it seems that we are all fairly witty, yet I realistically have not said more than 100 words to them combined. I don't fault any of us, it is simply the convenience of the Internet. We have this fake sort of bonding (our blogs) that in reality connects us in no way at all, yet is convenient enough that we have sort of struck up a cyber-friendship. I can't help but think back to the day when I made fun of people with "Internet friends," but now I sort of have Internet friends. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

I started writing my bird story today. As I was simply jotting down the anecdotes on paper, I saw a direction that I could take with the story that I think will be neat. I think that I'm going to tell about all of the different birds I have hit in my life with cars, and then in the final section, I'm going to hit a kid. I'm going to do it subtly, although I'm not quite sure how yet, but hopefully it will work itself out as I keep writing. The scary part is that I'm like John Wayne Gacy to the avian kingdom. Thinking back to all of my different stories, I think that I have some sort of bird magnet in the front of my vehicles. I mean I've killed like two dozen of the things. I guess I should never buy a parakeet. Karmically, birds have the revenge card on me, and I don't want to take any chances.

Good Days

I'm really feeling good about life right now. I've had two very good days in a row. I woke up this morning and discovered that my 1 credit weight-lifting class doesn't start until next week, so I was able to sleep in. Generally, everything is going my way right now, and I'm going to wallow in the euphoric daze for as long as I can. Pessimist Bret is keeping an eye out for things that could go wrong, but over the years I've learned to ride the good waves for as long as possible. The only thing that would make this young week better would be if I could figure out how to get this motorcycle here...

Proud Papa

I just got back from Sterling, Nebraska to discover that I am the proud new owner of a 1984 Kawasaki 550 motorcycle. I've wanted a motorcycle forever, but I really can't afford anything. I found a motorcycle on eBay that somebody was using as a parts bike, but they hadn't really taken anything off of it yet, and I was able to snag it for $100. Now I have to figure out how to get it to Nebraska from Alabama.

Sterling was fun. It is nice to spend time with people that I don't get to hang out with often. Nate and Ashley are awesome, and I always have a good time with them and their friends.

I wasn't nearly as productive as I wanted to be over break, but I somewhat planned on slacking off, so I'm not really behind. I do need to bear down and get some stuff done this week though, otherwise I will be getting myself into a pinch.

Quick and Dirty

Like your mom! Oh, snap, I got you good [reader of blog].

I'm slightly out of it as I got zero sleep last night. I've been on what can only be described as a poker binge over break, going to the casino four times in five days. Realistically, I'm an addicted gambler, but I do actually win when I play poker (which is all I do anymore), so I'm not too concerned at this juncture. I'd go into more detail but Conspiracy Theory Bret is worried about the IRS checking the blog. Suffice it to say that I'm doing fairly well.

Aside from poker, I've been lounging and reading. Most reading has been brushing up for my Textual Studies test on Monday (booooo!), but I need to lay into Donald Barthelme on Monday or Tuesday.

That's pretty much it. About to head over to Adam and Quiller's to watch some basketball. No post tomorrow as I will be working from 11:30am until 8pm, and then heading to Sterling for some St. Patrick's day shenanigans with some coworkers. Have fun and be safe tomorrow.

Visits, Dreams

I was bored and decided to look at the people who have visited my page lately and was quite impressed. I have sporadic but regular visits from somebody in Missouri, somebody in New Jersey, somebody in Georgia, and I had one random visit from somebody in Jilin, China. That's right, we're global bitch. I just think it's neat that people outside of the class bother to look in on my tiny corner of the Internet from time to time. To those of you who are looking from far away, please post a comment saying hello because I probably know you. If not, still post a comment because it would be neat to hear from new people.

I had another crazy dream last night. It started out with myself and probably fifty other people being in a gigantic pool. We're not talking Olympic sized, we're talking probably three hundred feet wide by a thousand feet long. There were at least fifty foot tall brick walls on all sides of the pool, with big windows with iron bars inside the glass about ten feet off of the ground. There was no roof. We were all swimming in the middle of the pool, and it started to rain intensely. Big waves started to toss people toward the lip of the pool that stuck out a couple inches from the brick wall. There was general panic. I started swimming for the wall where the waves dissipated. It was impossible to touch bottom on the pool, even at the wall, so all we could do was cling to the lip which seemingly rose with the water level. Out of nowhere, I was outside in a snowy landscape in a small town of sorts. A black car picked me up. It was a regular size car, but once inside, it was a limousine. My sister was in it, and she told me that she was pregnant, but wouldn't tell me who the father was. She kept dodging the question. Instead, she told me that some of my friends were going to pick me up shortly and take me to my uncle's house. I got out of the limo and presumed I was in Grand Island, where my uncle lives. Another identical black car picked me up with a random assortment of friends in it, and this time it did not turn into a limo once I got inside. We drove for a bit while conversing about something that I don't remember now, but then they dropped me off in front of what was presumably my uncle's house. It was not my uncle's actual house, for the record. I walked up to door and went inside, and my uncle had a small pool in the wood floor of his house. It was really small, like two hot tubs pushed together and shaped like a kidney bean. When I walked inside, a small little dog jumped into the pool. My parents were there, along with my sister and an assortment of my small extended family. They offered me food which I declined and then I laid on the floor. The dog that had been swimming came over to me, and as I petted it, its fur changed colors. Actually, it was iridescent, and its fur changed colors depending on how the light hit it. I expressed my amazement out loud, and my sister, seemingly a dog expert, rattled off the scientific name of the dog and some facts about it. "That is the Iridasci caninus, most commonly found in the jungles of New Guinea. Very rare. Weird to see one in the US." My fascination with the dog was soon broken as my dad (not my actual dad, but my dream dad, a totally different guy that I've never met) told us all to come in the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, my mom (actual mom) told us all that she was pregnant. My sister informed everybody that she too was pregnant. My neighbor girl growing up was there, and said how excited she was, but that she hated having so many children herself (she had six, she really has one, maybe two by now). Everybody was fawning over my mother and sister, and then my phone rang in real life and woke me up. My only conclusion is that my roommate has begun lacing my food with LSD.

Story Idea

For some reason, I have had an unusually high number of incidents with birds while driving. I'm thinking of writing my next story about this, but I'm not totally sure what to do with it. Does this sound remotely interesting to anybody?

I'm in terrible danger of screwing up my sleep schedule again. I've stayed up until about 6am the past two nights, and consequently have slept in until around 2pm. I need to fix this before class starts again because I don't want to return to my zombie state of sleep deprivation.

Stuff

I've worked 18 hours in the previous two days, which is more than I usually work in a week anymore. Obviously, everybody is on Spring Break, so the few of us remaining have to pick up the slack. The grand irony is that at the moment, I can't think of a single thing that I would like to do less than go to work at Best Buy. I love all of my co-workers, and I actually get along with my bosses, but mentally I checked out in January when I should have graduated and gotten a big boy job. There is something now that seems demeaning to me about working ridiculously hard for people who aren't very good at what they do and getting paid about half of what your average college graduate should make. I need to suck it up because I'm not going to waste time and effort looking for another job which I will leave in three months.

Aside from working, Spring Break has been enjoyable so far. I've gone to the casino to play poker twice and have done well, and I've generally relaxed. I know I need to get some work done, but I figure I do deserve a day off. Even though I have an easy life at the moment as far as required activities, at times I still mentally feel like I'm being run through the ringer.

Chelsea's blog made me sad because I have grown past the point that she describes. The things that made my Kearney my home aren't there anymore; my friends, familiar places and hangouts, even a lot of my family is gone now. At this point, it doesn't feel like I have a permanent home. I have some roots here in Lincoln, but again, I have no family here, I have on permanent personal landmarks here. I guess that means it's probably time for a move or drastic change, like buying a house. I suppose step one in this is process is graduating. I suppose I should work on my story after work tonight.

Filler

So I've been a slack-ass and have gone an entire two days without posting, and this on the heels of my chastising Chelsea for not posting. Irony, you are a bitch! I've been busy, and I will elaborate at a later time today, but 4:17am is not the time for reflection and epiphany. Good night.

Josip, Milestone

I'm really glad that I chose to go out to eat with Josip. He is extremely friendly and extremely interested in what we are doing as students. It is always nice to meet people that are down to earth. As far as craft, I did receive a short brow-beating from both Josip and Dr. Dumanis to write about experiences in my life. Not necessarily transcribe what has happened, but at least use those experiences as triggers. Both of them told me that if I write down unique things that I have seen or experienced, sometimes the story will just write itself. That would be nice if stories wrote themselves. I would have a thought, and my computer would just start spitting out pages on its own.

Katie said something at the dinner that I thought was spot on. She said that her favorite stories (Night Visitor's, Tchaikovsky's Bust, and another one that I'm forgetting at the moment) were the ones that turned out to be most the autobiographical for Josip. As it turns out, nearly all of the stories had some connection to his life in one way or another. In Neighbors, the math teacher that had a bomb dropped on his house was a math teacher that Josip had growing up who really did have a bomb dropped on his house. Josip wasn't next door when it happened, but he used that in part of the story. The store that gets trashed and then rebuilt by friends and neighbors overnight happened to a friend of a friend of Josip's. Hearing these anecdotes solidified in my head the fact that in the 37 years that I've been in college, I need to start mining out my brain for tidbits like these.

Most of you have probably never noticed, but there is a little stat counter at the bottom of the page. It just topped 100 unique visits sometime between 3pm yesterday and 10am this morning, which I feel is pretty cool. If you have bored, blogger geek friends, please let them know about our little blogs. It would be neat if I could get 1000 unique visits by the end of the semester. Also, if any of you from class would like to add a counter, just let me know.

I have to work at 7:30am tomorrow. I hate 7:30am. I think normal business hours should be 1pm to 9pm. That way, people can still get a decent night's sleep and there would be plenty of time before work to do chores around the house or exercise or whatever else people do. Plus, all anybody really wants to do after they get home from work is relax anyway, and what better way to relax than to just go to bed?

Spellcheck, Grocery Store, Root Beer

I didn't finish my story until around 3:30am this morning, so naturally, I didn't proofread it. I relied on spellcheck to cover my mistakes. The fault of spellcheck is that if you misspell a word, but your misspelled word is another actual word, spellcheck doesn't give a shit. Spellcheck is like a government employee. So my story is full of errors that absolutely drive me nuts.

I finally settled on an ending for my story. I wrote three of them, and wasn't really pleased with any of them, but the third one I wrote will suffice for the time being. It wraps things up nicely, but it seems a little too trite for my liking. Who knows, the class will probably love it.

I just bought a gallon of milk and a steak from the grocery store to have for lunch. When I got out to my truck, I realized that the gallon of milk that I purchased has the tiniest of holes in the bottom of the container. The hole was from a crease in the jug, which put me in a dilemma. I wasn't sure if I had hit the jug on something and made the crease myself, or if it was there the entire time I was walking around the store. I decided since it was just a little drip, that I would just take it home and not bother going back inside the store. Now there is a lake of milk in the bottom of my refrigerator, and I am chugging milk like it is going out of style. The problem with this, of course, is that it is impossible for the human digestive system to produce enough base to counter the lactic acid in an entire gallon of milk. If I look uncomfortable during Josip's talk at 1pm, you will know why.

While I was in the checkout line at the grocery store, I remembered the dream that I had last night. I met God, and he told me that I could have one non-water drink for the rest of my life. I chose root beer, because I like root beer quite a bit. Instantly, a bottle of A&W root beer appeared in my hand, so I opened it and enjoyed a nice long drink. Another man walked up to God, and God gave him the same choice. He looked at my A&W and said that he would like to have Sioux City Sarsaparilla for the rest of his life. My jaw hit the floor as I realized that I had made a horrible mistake, and I asked God if I too could have Sioux City Sarsaparilla. He told me no, and for questioning him sent me to downtown Dallas with a shirt that said "I Hate The Dallas Cowboys." That is the last thing I remember before I woke up.

Home Stretch

I was up until around 5:30ish yesterday morning because my roommate's dog decided to see how long it could bark. I only got a few hours sleep before I had to go to class, and tried to finish my story before 2ish, but I had to give up and get some sleep. I woke up around 5pm and quickly rattled off the final few pages, but here I sit six hours later still trying to actually end the story. Too often I sort of just stop and am unsatisfied because the story doesn't feel like it is finished. On the positive side, I like the way the story turned out, presuming I don't ruin the ending. Well, enough time-wasting on here, back to the ending. I'll e-mail the story out tonight to everyone, as well as put copies in the folder around 10:30am tomorrow.

Update

Ridiculously productive day yesterday. I cleared out my DVR of a Daily Show, Colbert Report, Deadliest Catch, and a Dirty Jobs. I went over to my ex-girlfriends to pick up two movies, Invincible and Little Miss Sunshine. I checked Facebook probably a dozen times. I discovered that you can't cook bratwurst in a frying pan. I did a load of laundry. I resisted the urge to check my blog a dozen times. I talked to my mom. I talked to my friend in Florida. I read about forty pages in Josip's book. I went to class. I wrote another paragraph for my story. I played a $1 poker tournament online and won $16. I lost $5 playing more $1 tournaments. I told my roommate that I would fix his computer today. I was exhausted. I worked today. Now, to do more stuff.

Agenda For the Week

I need to get some crap done this week, including:

Get new windshield wipers for my truck
Finish my story
Clean my bedroom
Do something healthy
Work on some research papers that I have to finish
Organize and collect money for my softball team

I guess when I write it out, I really don't have that much to do. I suppose I could start reading the other books for fiction, but I'll probably just watch TV or play solitaire on the computer.

Actually About Writing

I'm torn with what to do in my new story. I've talked about it briefly on here before, but for the unfamiliar my story will be about a time in elementary school that I went with a friend to Catholic mass. My problem is that I don't know how to end the story. I don't really want the ending to be about religion as well, because I think that would be too over-the-top, but at this point I really don't have any other avenues to explore. What I'm thinking about trying is to step inside the story and look around at the actual people that I've populated it with. Religion is going to be a part of my story no matter what I do, because everything takes place in a church, but I think by trying this method for an ending, it will give me an opportunity to do something more with the story. Thoughts?

Sunshine and Puppies

Technically I lied because I said that I would write something tomorrow (meaning Thursday) that was more upbeat, but as the time stamp will reveal, it's already Friday. Oh well. Today actually was fairly decent despite much inactivity by this guy. I stayed out late Wednesday night and really didn't want to wake up for a 10:00am meeting on campus but Mother Nature got my back! I discovered that campus was closed at 9:00am and rolled back over for another tasty 2.5 hours of sleep. Sadly, the exact reason I bought a cheap, used laptop was so I could do things like wake up and check my e-mail without having to walk the eight feet to my desktop. Somewhere Jesus is crying. My sister called me at 11:30 and was doing the same thing with her snow day; laying in bed and watching TV (she left her laptop at school). I vented some personal stuff that has been eating at me, and shortly thereafter got confirmation from the universe that nothing is random.

What I talked to my sister about is someone whom I hadn't spoken with for a short while, really needed to talk to, but for reasons that are stupid could not call myself. About an hour and a half later, they called. I'm not big into coincidence. In my story for class most of you will find out at least partially my thoughts on religion, for the rest of you I'll put them here: There HAS to be a higher power of some sort, I'm just not really sure who or what it is yet. I know that today both my friend and myself were thinking of each other. I know I hadn't thought of it for at least a couple days, so why today? My opinion might be different if this were an isolated incident, but we all have experiences like this all of the time. I guess this is the same reason that I like poker. There is an intricate, pre-planned set of events that we have no control over but have to deal with and account for in the best way possible. Much like poker, we all have access to the community cards, and sometimes we look at the other person in the hand and realize that they have the exact same thing we do. That's when we get phone calls from people we haven't talked to in too long.

Oh, and I worked on my story a little bit.