Gonzo- It Just Doesn’t Get Weird Enough for Me

Aww fukc yes! Finals are over! I’ve finally got a chance to do all the stuff that school work was keeping me from, like playing guitar and blogging. Incidentally, I’m no longer good at guitar (hell, I was never good, now I’m worse.) Let’s see if I can still blog for crap.

So I’m preparing for what I suspect will be an epic summer. I’m not going to Spain, but I swear I’m not bitter (serenity now!). For those of you going, bring me back a boina and a bottle of Sherry. I’m running low. And is absinthe still legal there? Cuz in that case, it’s time to dance with the green fairy again… For those of you sticking around, let’s fukcin party. It’s summer. I’m watching Ferris Bueler right now, and I realize that without authority figures, this shti’s gonna be even easier.

So I just got a haircut this morning. I didn’t want to be the first one to say it, but I look damn sexy. The problem? I never found my aviators. If you have any information on their whereabouts, call me at 523-6581. That’s not a joke, I fukcin love those aviators. Until then, priority one is to get some new shades. I’ll probly stick with my wraparound aviators, cuz they make me look like a badass, but I might go for some cheaper Ray Bans, for that bob dylanesque look. Suggestions for my eyeware preferences? Comment, please.

Priority two, getting some guns. Don’t worry, I mean airsoft, but I do feel that it’s time to put the violence back on the streets. I’m checking out a nice Smith and Wesson Shotgun pistol package for $64, but I’m mostly hitting up a shotgun because I’m poor and of Southern descent. Something about it just feels right. However, if you have the means, there are always some kickass assault rifles and sub machine guns for about $100-$300. Actually, what was really weird was that I saw a Tommy gun for about 200. But now I’m digressing into a Dick’s ad, so let’s move on.

Third on the choping block, I’ve gotta get my rock hard bod back. You know the one. So I’m gonna get back to working out with Jake Willard, who knows what the fukc he’s doing. Who knows? When you see me in fall I may just be ripped. Probly not, but let me dream for a second.

That’s all I can think of for now, but I’ll probly come up with more later. I’m probably gonna roll around carmel for the next week springing friends from finals and creating havoc for the establishment. Because I care about this community. To quote the bard (and by quote I mean steal and then bastardize):

“This royal throne of Brainard, this sceptered roundabout

This fortress built by assholes themselves

Against the hands of poor people and minorities

This happy breed of rich white people

This precious gem set distastefully among a sea of corn and nicer towns

This all devouring ever expanding hell hole of Suburbia (Disturbia)

This blessed/cursed plot, This earth, this Realm, This Carmel!”

Exit blogger stage left to thunderous applause. So anyway, stay in touch with me via this blog, or give the cell number a call (it’s earlier in the post, dumbass.) Also, come see me in Little Women which is likely to be the final show of the Carmel Community Players, due to the jackassery of Jim Brainard. He gave most of the funds to some guy who starte a theatre four days ago (at the time that I heard this news, now it’s been about two weeks), and put the rest aside for having road crews hand paint the round abouts and hand stain all of the stones. That’s not a joke, it’s actually happening. Anyway, I will be playing Little, not Women. Also, stay tuned, because I promised somebody I’d post my hero movie. Just give me some time to figure it out. Well that about raps it up. Let’s make the summer months our bitch. (No, I’m kidding, I treat the summer months with the utmost respect, let’s make them our lady, it’s more PC.)

Gonzo Out

Today we were victorious. At academic superbowl. Lame? I think not. But I’ll just let the fact that we won first place in our division for every event except science (2nd) do the talking. We even won the entire competition for interdisciplinary. Boo-yah. It was a lot like a saga, like the heroic story of Beowulf. Let me present to you:

The Saga of Tommy

At three fifteen after school, our hero Tommy, son of Tim, son of Valley, burst forth into the Social Studies office to meet his ride: Ms. Compton. But first there was a great commotion of who would champion the Social Studies team for the great superbowl of Academia. Lauren of Linscott was to captain, and the great SOB Tommy would anchor the team. But would Sara Staszack (Stazack? Stationery Store?) or Patrick, the Earl of Kennedy be there? No, they wouldn’t. Or so they said. Sara was bound to drive her little brother home from track practice, and he to plow the lacrosse field or something. Mrs. Smoot entered a blood fury.

This being said, four downtrodden warriors marched forth into the reign and packed their battle gear into the their trusty Prius, and soon Compton, Linscott, Rieger, and the famed prince of Carmel embarked. But wait. Who was this on the shore (curb) waving down a ride? None other than Sara _______(last name withheld for time constraints) who would ride also in the War Prius. She had broken away from her brother. And so, with much courage, study packets in hand, and with little leg room the three champions of Social Studies sallied forth from their homeland to the distant isle of Beech Grove.

After forty-five minutes or so, they had arrived. Ms. Compton docked the Man of Prius in the parking lot, and soon they entered in to the gym/mead hall. In the cafeteria, on the other side of the gym, the warriors quickly made final preparations for the mind battle into which they would soon enter. And that great defender of 96th and Keystone (still talking about me) saw olde comrades from his days in Carmel Clay Schools; Jimmy Sun and Tim Chai, also preparing for dubious combat. They met as olde friends: their was rejoicing, and much mead was drunk, and then a feast upon Chick Fil-A, Pizza Hut, and Arby’s provided by the school.

Soon, the Tweed Warrior had to change into his formal dress armor, complete with elbow patches. But what was this on his cell phone? The Earl of Kennedy approached to provide relief to the stalward warriors. They entered in, First Linscott, Stazyackistan, and the kinsmen of Patricia, and they managed to hold their own in a tie for second led by the great defender of elbow patches. But soon the Kennedy relieved Stallion, and they found a barn-burner victory.

Soon after, the Math Team did the same, anchored in part by Kevin “the Great” Huang. Shortly after, English began. Spears was less helpful, but was in the second round able to pull through more and contribute to the first place victory found, no thanks to the no-show Kristin Weakleg. But now could this scourge of two academic disciplines captain a crew of the damned to a victory in the interdisciplinary round. Probably. But first he napped. And it was good.

Soon the Duke of Long Unnecesary blogposts found himself seated, a captain staring straight into hell, and leading Chris the Killa McCabe(Math/Science), Christine Lingeman(Art), and Lauren of Linscott(Social Studies) straight into the fire. But could Tommy Sharptongue(English/Social Studies) achieve a decisive victory against the well-renowned armies of Carmel and North Central. Withou Substitutions. Well, he didn’t really have to lead, so yes. And with a two-point lead yay did the Brebeuf soldiers of glory defeat all others at the great Contest at Beech-Grove. The Crowd Went WILD!

And so they departed, and each went to his home and his own adventures. Tommy of extended blogpost jokes did sack an Arby’s on the way home to sate his hunger, and after defeating the vile ogre Kevin the Night Manager. And he did eat a holy beef n cheddar. And yay, it was good. And this son of Greater Indianapolis did procrastinate on his OO manuscript, and he did stay up late to make a crappy half-finished product that he knew sucked. And thus, the saga ends, with the great nonsensical, vaguely-norse-sounding battlecry: Bjorn!

So anyway, today sucked. I’m not as angry now as i was this afternoon, and I should have posted then, but I was busy. I wonder if these posts are still required. Anyway I’ve got a lot to say, so let’s get going.

When I first got home today, we got a message that one of my friends father’s had passed. He had a disease similar to Lou Gherig’s (sp?) and at the end of it he could barely open his eyes. I think he had been dead to his familly for a long time for this reason, and that this was just the passing of his physical body. Still, this is really sad. I just hope I can do something for my friend. His father was a good man, and I’m sad to see him go.

This being said, I really don’t even feel right bitching about my day. Who am I to complain when their family just lost a father? Well, this makes me a son of a bitch, but I’ll go on anyway, I’m just gonna try to keep things in perspective.

I haven’t been sleeping more than 4 to 4:30 hours every night for quite a while, weekends excluded. the problem is that I have become so used to working until one trying to finish things, that I now have a sleep disorder, which causes me to doze in class and (almost) in the Yom Hashoah convo. I really hate this, and for the record i totally hold Brebeuf responsible for this. I doubt that many teachers think that hard before assigning, and if they do, I’m sorry, but there are many others who don’t.

Of course now I’m working on my Rolle’s Theorem project for AP Calc. It’s basically a project where we’re making graphs out of food and 3-D objects to illustrate a concept that we learned about three weeks ago. I thought I’d graduated from second grade, but this project suggests that I haven’t. I just hope that there’s a problem about macaroni and paste on the AP exam next year. If not, I’m suing the school. Fukc them. Teachers (Haffley, you might want to show other teachers this part of the post) please realize something: we all have lives. It seems that most of you don’t take into account that many of your students participate in teams, clubs, and activities, and therefore might not get home until 6 at night. some of you don’t even take into account the time we spend at school with you. But please realize this, every time you assign a project towards the end of the year because you need to fill out your grade books, and you weren’t paying attention all semester, it means less sleep for all of your students. To some of you, this probably isn’t important. Trust me when I say that you’ll get yours in the end. On top of this, consider the fact that most of your colleagues have been doing the same thing, and now students will be swamped. Add to this the fact that many of them will get yelled at by their parents for staying up so late, even though it’s really not their fault. It sounds like enough to make a person go crazy and do something stupid and regrettable, no? this being said, today we observe the 10th anniversary of the Columbine massacre, a day that lives in history when two disenchanted youth who were stressed out beyond belief by their school’s social life, their own home situations, and one can probably assume grades did what they believed was fighting back in their own sense of justice that had been seriously warped by emotional neglect and exposure to violence. Please realize that because of this, every time you add to the levels of stress of the student body at large, you put us all in literal danger. There are people out there crazy and desperate enough to do this. Quit tempting Fate! Take that extra hour to consider if a project is really necessary, if your students will really learn from (we won’t in this case) before you assign it. Please. (Alright Haffley, you can stop showing them, because I’m going to go back to swearing and telling personal stories. If there are questions, post them.)

So, anyway, a side effect of my disorder: I often fall asleep after school, and then stay up late making up for lost time. This is complete bullshit, but it is what it is. This happened to me today, and when I awoke, I was so pissed at myself, that I was trying to do homework during dinner. Then I realized I forgot something and I was swearing and beating myself in the head, and my Mom told my Dad over the phone that I was having a meltdown, which is a fukcing lie, but she just wanted to say this so that she could blame him for not pushing me over the weekend while she was gone. That’s all I am to her: evidence for the ongoing fight with my Dad. Well I’ve got news for you, bitch, I was working all weekend on community service and a poetry posting for Haffley, as well as an audition. So fukc off. And since when do you have a problem with my swearing? You clearly don’t read this blog. Which makes me wonder, who the hell have I been talking to for the past several sentences.

Long story short, I got everything I need, I still need to do it, and prep for academic superbowl tommorow (F my life) and get ready for a callback wednesday. And have my OO script ready for Wednesday. Looks like Im not sleeping for a little while longer. Fukc.

On top of all this a girl I was starting to like (no, you probably don’t know her) now probably thinks that I’m a violent psycopath. Not because of this blog, but something else that I said. G-d dammit! So in closing all I can say is this, please keep my friend (who I will leave anonymous) and his family in your prayers. He’s got it much harder than I can imagine, and he’s one of the only guys I know tough enough to just keep going. G-d bless you.

Gonzo Out.

So, anyway, I’m feeling bored, and even though I’ve got a lot of other homework to do, I’m gonna post, cuz I miss it. It’s a shame nobody reads these anymore. Well, I don’t. And I get to speak for the group in my blog, deal with it. So I don’t really have anything to talk about, so I’m just gonna start typing and telling stories and see what happens.

Did I mention I got a new guitar? Yeah, I did. In that other forum thing. Anyway, Tyler and I are playing at coffee house, and I’m pretty excited. All y’all remember last year, right? Good. Don’t ever forget it.

Oh, yeah, Ms. Haffley, I saw that you want to throw me out of a window. First of all, to get up on my nerd high horse, Ozymandias threw the Comedian out of his window, not Rorshach. Second, you’re a total pacifist, so I sort of doubt that you would. Third of all, I’m totally growing a moustache, and soon I will be able to harness its power. Now I know what you’re all thinking: Tommy, you’ll look stupid with a moustache, don’t grow one. Of course, I already know that. I’m quite aware that I’d look stupid with a moustache. That’s why I’m growing one artificially in a hydroponics chamber in my basement. Also, I’m genetically engineering a new kind of sideburn, and I have a soul patch patch in my garden. Just in case. (How are you liking these facial hair/garden puns?)

So anyway, it’s Easter, and it’s time to take it to the streets. If you see a Roman anywhere, kick his ass. It’s okay. Especially if your Jewish. Also, for any Jewish people reading this, happy Passover. Enjoy your grain defficiency and freedom from slavery. Muslims,you don’t have a holiday that coincides with this post, so enjoy the weather. That’s lame, but whatever.

So anyway, I feel like this break back into blogging has been a failure, but whatever. I’m just not as inspired as I usually am. I do have a beret, however, so I’m probly gonna start wearing that everywhere. Now I’m gonna get to some homework, then sleep. This was a seriously lame post, but my mind is blanking right now, so “oh well, whatever, nevermind.” Name that tune/artist/album/year of release.

Gonzo Out.

P.S. Seriously Haffley, no joke, we’re discussing Watchmen. Cuz I’ve been reading The Alchemist, and it’s much less interesting and realistic than Alan Moore’s classic. Plus, it’s already about heroes, but not only heroes, SUPERheroes. And that’s just freakin sweet. So, anyway, I just realized that I haven’t cursed in this entire blog, so everbody hae a happy fukcing Easter! Whooo!

So revenge rules, as I found out this weekend. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. It’s just tops, but only when your justified. Allow me to explain through an extensive narrative that will often drift away from my topic.
So on Sunday I was giving my sister a ride, and the entire time she’s just bitching me out and whining about how much she hates her life and me and shti like that. Yeah, well, “you and me and the Devil makes three.” I didn’t actually come up with that. It’s from a song on the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack. But the point stands, this chick was being a bitch. So she’s getting out, and even though I’ve been talking this whole time about keeping the car muthafukcin clean, she decides she’s just gonna leave her sprite can in my car. I say to her “Whoa, that’s not okay,” and she just says back all haughtily “I don’t have time to deal with this right now, just deal, okay?” I was furious, but I decided to take her advice and deal. So I did.
I was driving up to Brebeuf to pick up some books I had left there Friday because of Model UN. Did I mention that Sara Staszak and I got best delegate in our council? Cuz I’ve been mentioning that a lot lately. And sleeping in my medal. I have low self-esteem. So anyway, I saw this as my big chance to get even. I remembered her locker combo, broke in, and took all of her stuff out. Then I pinched a black plastic trashbag from the Asian Fest set up crew (alright, they gave me one because I asked for it, I just like to sound cool), and stuffed all of her lockerly belongings into it. Following this, I put the black plastic trashbag (I’m gonna say the whole thing, cuz it’s catchy) back on her locker, with the can on top, then went home and bugged her about the can.
This morning when she opened her locker she was sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooo pissed off at me. oooo. It was hilarious. Everyone whom I’ve told about this except her agrees that this is pretty funny, mostly cuz it is. So I had that good laugh, which kept up my spirits through an AP chem quiz.
Anyway, even though at the end of the day I put her locker back straight, got rid of the black plastic trashbag, and crushed the can to surprise her, I know that I was justified. I just needed a truce, so I thought it best to end the prank. But because I took what was mine, my dignity, I had a terrific day. I had little homework, so I got to lift today after school. I had a second break on eights, and I saw some hilarious Slings and Arrows on sixes. Be sure to ask Danny and Kat about the Balkovsky excercises, because we are so doing them some time wit a big group of friends and some glow paint. Also, I picked up a lucky talisman: a tootsie pop rapper that had the Indian Chief shooting the star with a bow and arrow. For those of you that don’t know, this is lucky. Also, it matched my shirt. Plus, I looked up, and saw the lights of the Goodyear blimp flashing “Ice Cube’s a Pimp.” Alright, that didn’t actually happen, I just heard it in a song once. So I capped my terrific day by helping to set up the JSU/Israel booth for Asian fest, and ya’ll better come to see it. I think I’ve made it perfectly clear how I deal with those who disagree with me. And besides my sister, who knows this better than Squeaky? If you’re reading this, Squeaky, don’t make eye contact with the screen. Don’t. There, that’s better. Just have someone read this to you aloud.
Alright, well the moral of the story is that revenge can work in the short term, and it’s hilarious and makes you look like a badass. So S my D, Hamlet. You just couldn’t get it right over there in Denmark. Well fukc you, you Danish bastard, looks like I figured it out. And by the way? The answer was “to be.” Thought you oughta know.
Gonzo Out
P.S. I saw that Haffley has read the graphic novel Watchmen a few times. So, Ms. Haffley, I’m just letting you know that I’m forcing you to lead a discussion on this on a PRT. You will surrender your free time to me. Cuz I’m like the Comedian: I’ll get things done by ANY MEANS NECESSARY. ALSO, I ENJOY MOUSTACHES.
For real this time,
Gonzo Out

Dude, I had the shittiest day today. It didn’t start that way, but it kinda moved there fast. So I woke up and my little sister’s sick. Sucks. Cuz I’m probly gonna get it too, and then there’s both of us sick. Still, I’m excited to start this muthafukcin day, I even offer to pick up her papers for her.
So I get to school, shit’s still going all right. Good English and all, I even score some cookies in first period speech. I guess things didn’t really start going wrong until sixes. I heard on the PRT right before that the Spanish office had the results of our interviews, so I was all excited to check it out. I walk into the office, and without any pretense whatsoever Sra. Brown looks at me and says: “I have no excuse for you.” Beg pardon. “There’s no reason why they didn’t accept you.”
“Wow. That was a bad way for me to find that out.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought you knew.”
The conversation goes on, she gives me a hug, which was much less awkward than I thought it’d be considering the height difference and the fact that we aren’t very close, all things considered. She was nice about it though, gave me information on an alternate program. That actually reminds me, have you ever noticed how weird it feels when the shorter person initiates the hug? Well, whatever, she was good at it, but I guess with Mr. Brown being taller and all, she has practice doing the tall person hug.
So I had a long break, and was a combination of hyper and angry for the rest of the day. I know that a lot of holier-than-shit prepsters think that violence isn’t the answer, but I don’t think they’re asking the right questions. So, I considered smashing windshields. Oh, well. I’m sure I’d find the wrong car.
I had a lot of time off to think, and then we got out early, which was just more time to think, and that depressed me. Even an arbitrary antiquing trip with my bro Derek failed to cheer me up. And there was a lot of bromance on the trip. We talked about starting a Carmel street gang and everything.
Finally, saddened, I retired to the gym where I came up with this idea to cheer myself and anyone else up. Incidentally, it’s the title of this post. Let’s make wednesday “On a Boat” Day. Like the music video. We’ll dress up like we’re on a yacht with T-Pain, really go all out. I wanna see a nautical themed pagmina afghan for chrissake. If anybody’s in, just post it up, if not, well still post. Let’s just take a good long look at the muthafukin boat that is our lives. That sounded weird, but whatever.
Gonzo Out.

Done reading the title yet? Good. Let’s get moving. I’m very tired, and I’m just gonna type what I feel/remember. As per usual. I hope you brought a bib, cuz you’re about to be served.
Okay, so the medicine bag was a big sack of spiritual crap that Native Americans carried around for some reason or other. I think it helped lower cholesterol or something like that. Anyway, you can totally buy medicine bags from Native Americans today. Well, let me rephrase that- you can buy paper bags full of cheap, Canadian prescription drugs from a dude named Apache outside of the CVS on 86th. Come to think of it, I don’t even think he’s Native American. Italian? Maybe Dutch? Anyway…
I knew what I needed to do immediately after I skimmed the instructions. Well, mostly what I needed to do: hunt for small objects among faculty members of Brebeuf. This combined two of my favorite activities: hunting and annoying the faculty of Brebeuf. After reading through the list of medicines, I realized that just seven simply would not do. Nay, I would need not twice this number, but twice this number and one, which comes out to fifteen. I think. All of em. I chose to do this because while I consider myself a whole person, I find that I am very “partial” in the sense that I have great room to improve. Thusly, my quest begun.
I quickly gathered my wits in a pink lace bag and set off. My first medicine was ironically also the first clue: courage. I deduced quickly that the guardian was Mr. Hicks, and since I was in speech class, there was a convenient twist of plot. Unfortunately I had to battle Mr. Hicks for the talisman, but I was victorious; I tore off his left arm and hung it from the rafters of Heorot. No, no wait… that was Beowulf. I fell asleep earlier reading Beowulf, and just mixed our lives up. Anyway, onward.
Next, I gathered from undisclosed locations the talismans of Compassion, Discernment, Humor, Joy, Heart, Patience, Perserverance, Wisdom, Selflessness, Strength, Humility, and Integrity. All that remained was Faith and Insight. I knew that the guardian of Faith had gone for the day, but where was insight. I found out the next morning. After finding faith (it was hidden in my eye, like that thing in Saw III) I asked Ms. Haffley about the whereabouts of the talisman of Insight. I can’t tell you what she said, but she sent me on a journey of spiritual enlightenment that led me to realise that only one person could grant me insight: Redacted for Content. After seeing the guardian, I had all fifteen talismans.
Now, not to contradict Ms. Haffley, but the numerology thing was wrong. That’s not what fifteen means. However, I found an interesting added perk to earning fifteen talismans: fifteen is the same number as one of my patron tarot cards, THE DEVIL. That’s right. “Pleased to meet you, hoped you guessed my name.”
Anyway, to reflect on the personal purpose of each talisman:
Courage: Everyone needs courage to face up to the ultimate challenges ahead of them. And courage isn’t just found at the bottom of one of Apache’s medicine bags (although my experience mugging that CVS customer proves that it is found there.)
Compassion: Heroes need to relate to everyone, and treat them with kindness. Not something I’m good at, hence the talisman. (By the way, squeak, this doesn’t undue the eye contact rule.
Discernment: I was glad to talk to the guardian of discernment, although admittedly I didn’t know what it was. It seems that it’s a lot like insight, or the ability to find insight. Anyway, pretty dam useful, so in the bag!
Humor: I think I had this already, but what the hell? It never hurts to have proof. Unless you mugged an old woman coming out of a CVS.
Joy: Finding this medicine helped me realize that real joy lies in helping others, and thereby feeling good about yourself. FYI, I’ll be as St. Vincent De Paul’s Food Pantry this weekend…
Faith: I definitely need this. But what can you do? When the faithful get tricked, a cynic’s just the laughing face that says “I told you so.” Still, a little faith would be nice.
Heart: If courage is what helps you face a problem initially, heart is what keeps you going strong. It represents endurance, drive, and the spread of oxygen to the body through blood. And guess what? I’ve got four ventricles of Raw Power, comin atcha!
Patience: This is relevant especially in today’s world. With everything instant, I even outsource my blog to a Russian houseboy/undocumented child worker, who writes it brilliantly (help me-master Tommy likes to burn things-Ilyich)
Perserverance: Again, this is important. If one’s going to succeed, one first has to fall. It’s an uphill battle, but it’s all toward the hilltop. And once you get there? A commanding view of the corpses of the people you were battling.
Wisdom: I once asked a wiseman: “Can you give me wisdom?” He replied: “No.” I said: “But you are so wise, have you no wisdom to spare?” He replied again: “Have you Tommy to Spare?” Real wisdom comes from within, it cannot be given, only earned. The end of that conversation? I said: “Fine, then instead give me a number four, Diet Coke.” Again he replied: “$4.94, next window please.”
Selflessness: Yeah, I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty selfish. I can’t help it, I’m just so dam attractive. Still, there are times when I’m a giver… ladies. Anyway, this was definitely a talisman that I needed.
Strength: I’m gaining actual strength, although not fast enough, but what about spiritual strength? Easy: lift spiritual weights. The conversion is as follows: Studying the Bible, Qu’ran, or Torah for thirty minutes is the equivalent to benching with a fifty. Or if you’re scientologist, eating a baby or whatever it is you do.
Humility: Again this is hard for me. I’m so great, how can I be humble. Something to work on- hence the talisman. Maybe it’ll bring out this quality in me. Then again maybe not.
Integrity: I found out recently that I have integrity. Not to give anything away, but somebody knows what I mean… have fun with that one.
Insight: This is hard because I’m partially blind in one eye, so it’s not always clear, but I do what I can. I may just need spiritual trifocals. But I still feel that I’m pretty decent at reflecting.
Alright, well, there’s my medicine bag, further proof that I’m a hero of epic proportion, with a big sack to prove it (yeah, that’s right, I said it.) Well, I’ve gotta go, because I can feel Apache’s medicine bag starting to take hold.
Gonzo out!

So, as many of you know, I recently finished the run of Man of La Mancha at Brebeuf. Not to brag, but I thought the production was pretty damn good. Anyway, now after that, and after a serious chem quiz today, I was almost free. Almost Today was the interview for IU honors, the program that might allow me to go to Spain…
So, anyway, Realiti Ferguson and I carpooled with Ashley Beuchel, and I’ve just got to say what a terrific singer/dancer Ashley is. Feel free to ask her about it, it’s pretty hilarious to watch her jam to “Billy Jean.” Anyway, after strutting and fretting over the material for Spanish for so long, all three of our interviews went pretty well, although we all know we made mistakes. Still, now I’m mostly done with extraneous extracurriculars. Except for Boy Scouts and CoServ. Well, anyway, hopefully I can catch up on my sleep, but I guess I’ll just leave it up to fortune.
Damn, this post was lame and short. Like my sister.

So today was decidedly not a good day to start. I had only gotten about four hours of sleep last night, and I wasn’t focusing to well, to say the least. Anyway, one of my first classes, and I won’t say which one, took a turn for the worse when the teacher, who shall also remain nameless, decided to tell us how much we sucked. This namelss teacher told us that to survive a college class, students study twice as much as they are in class, so based on Brebeuf’s schedule we should be studying at least ten hours a week. This was among the many other things that this individual said.

My first question is this: what the fukc? Your going to bash a group of teenagers? The age group most likely to commit suicide? What the fukc is wrong with you?! I felt like killing myself after I left your class, which by the way has taught me nothing all semester! Let me break it down for you, you anonymous, agendered one. I’m at school for eight hours a day, which is the standard length of a work day for most adults. With several key differences. The best example I can come up with is that most working adults get an hour for lunch, whereas we get at best an hour, during which we are expected to work anyway. On top of that, now I’ve got shti like college meetings eating into my breaks, which are crammed enough as it is! On top of this, I’m at school for an extra two hours to be in a play, and I’ve also got other important time eater like Boy Scouts and SAT prep class. So on a good day I’m home at six, and on a bad day I’m home at nine. Then we get into homework. I’m morally opposed to homework, because basically it’s a teacher asking you to do their work for you at home for free. They pay you to teach, not to run my life! Much of Europe has higher test scores than the US, and over there school is school and it doesn’t stick its fat asss into your life! I can see the necessity for some classes in which you need practice to have homework, like foreign language and math, but some of this is just bullsht.
As if life wasn’t bad enough, when I started typing this on a lap top in the library, the damnn thing moved so slow that I had to stop. I was so frustrated at having to continually stop the malfunctioning program with control alt delete that I was angrily gripping the computer, and probably almost snapping the screen in twain. Long story short, that particular model lost a j key and some other key I didn’t even see. Fukc those lap tops!
So here’s my question: where the fuckk am I gonna find ten damnn hours in a week. I’m running short as it is, teacher from the beginning of this post. Now I would like to acknowledge the fact that I’m not blaming the teacher, like I was before I edited this post. Originally, I called that teacher a bitch/bastard depending on gender, as well as a sick fukc, among other things. This isn’t entirely fair, I grant you. But c’mon, this shitt is ridiculous! I’m suddenly glad that there’s a kid in New York campaigning for a federal ban on homework. This third grader has proudly proclaimed that because homework is mandatory and against the workers’ will, that it is slavery, and therefore unconstitutional. Even though I’m sure that this kid is a three foot tall prick who just doesn’t like working, I’m gonna support him, cuz enough’s enuff! Together we might be able to shout down this wall! (Get the metaphor? I thought it made a decent title/reference to the walls of Jericho.)
I don’t mean to be bitter, and I’m not saying that I’m angry at teachers. I’m also not saying that I hate school or my life. It’s just that I have no idea what’s keeping me here.

Gonzo out.

So I was a little dissappointed by the fact that there was no post or comments due, but I’m just gonna have to do one anyway. Looks like its Gonzo time. Here’s what happened in a lengthy disjointed narrative.
So Thursday after Man of La Mancha practice I took my little sister to some meeting she had at North Central. Anyway, on the way back my car, which I think I’m gonna start calling the Admiral, just gave out at the light turning into Brebeuf. It restarted though. Anyway, I sat through another really enjoyable SAT prep class (that’s not sarcasm, Mrs. Brown is actually pretty funny), and as I was on my way home, the Admiral stopped again just after I crossed Spring Mill. This time it wouldn’t restart (lazy Bastard). So a Cop stopped and helped me push it into the turn lane, out of the way. He told me he used to drive an old car (Hey, the Admiral’s only twenty-three, he’s younger than you are, Cop) and to pump the gas as I started it, cuz the engine might be flooded. I tried it: no luck. Fukc! So he decided that it wasn’t flooded, and since my dad was on the way, he headed on. Well, I kept trying like he told me to, and it did restart and I pulled into St. Luke’s parking lot. My dad showed up, we took the Admiral to a shop near us, and dropped it off. Still no word as to what’s wrong. My theory: possessed by the Anti-Chrysler. Anyway, looks like I’m stuck in a Volvo. Could be worse…
I slept most of Friday. I’m pretty sure. Yeah, actually, now I’m sure. I got up at like seven so I could volunteer at Saint Vincent De Paul Food Pantry. It was pretty cool, I bagged chocolate milk bottles for four hours and handed them to clients. Then I went home and took a shower. I was going to the library to meet this girl from Carmel and give her a book (and hit on her just a little.) I got there right after Carmel let out and chilled for a little bit. The chick forgot (again!). But oh well. Always next week. That sounds pathetic. But I can live with it. Anyway, I swore at a child out of rage and then left. Went home, slept from four until seven-thirty. I think I just hung out that night at my house.
Woke up early again Saturday for SVDP duty. No, moron, I’m not a Power Ranger, just read the above paragraph! Anyway, that day I got to distribute bread with this weird old dude named Stephen who really creeped me out. I did get a chance to use my Spanish, but I don’t know the word for wheat. After about two hours they moved me outside to help some guys wrangle carts and help clients out to their cars. I was working with a bearded sixty year old who dressed in denim, cowboy boots and hat, carried a buck knife, and had two chains hanging off his pants. I didn’t catch his name, but in my mind he was the Cowboy. There were also Spanish speaking men, and I got to talk for a while with one who was sick. I gave him some halls, he seemed greatful. Just wish he would have taken my hat. He was pretty sick, he shouldn’t have been working outside, oh well. That night I went to a theatre production of five short plays with my old friend Devin. They were all by Chris Durang, look him up, he’s hilarious. So that was a cool night.
Sunday, I can’t remember the morning, except that I had King Cake. It was delicious. I had an Eagle Scout meeting in the afternoon, but that was brief. That night I went to see some friends who were house sitting in Zionsville. Apparently my little sister can’t read. Also mapquest should update their info on Zionsville, because it sent us down a street that my friends told me hasn’t existed for years. Long story short, we were forty-five minutes late. Anyway, we listened to some Phil Collins, played pool, soaked in a hot tub, and played this weird game called blue balls. I’m not even gonna try to explain it.
So I woke up today and had a bunch of homework, and I still have to prepare an informative speech that I don’t wanna do, but whatever, if I don’t get it done I’ll get called on. On the bright side, I now have a little gum, which is a lot like smoking cuz I’m hooked and it does shti to your teeth. So that was my weekend. I sort of want to elaborate, but can’t currently find the words, so if you have questions just type a response or talk to me in person. It’ll mean more that way.
Boom! That was Gonzo in your face. I need a cigarette after that post.