the meeting place

Well, well, well. Haven’t posted anything in a while. Semester is winding down. Lots of papers due. I have about 52 pages left to go. I figured allowing my consciousness to stream onto this page for a while would help ease the tension of my life. That’s right, writing helps ease the stress of writing. I’m not sure how to explain my logic, but somehow it works out.

Thanksgiving break is nigh, and I plan on eating my weight in mashed potatoes, stuffing, and of course Chris Turkleton. I cannot explain to you the joy that this holiday brings me. Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays that I have no bad memories of. The food is always good, the company is always stimulating, and the football, well, I’m not a Cowboys fan, but needless to say, I miss the hell out of Drew Bledsoe, and Bill Parcells. An old tradition, that my family used to have, was going up to New Hampshire to visit my dad’s family. Sure, when I was an overstimulated, priveledged kid from the suburbs, going away usually meant gluing myself to my gameboy, and making the time pass quickly with my brother Ben, by tormenting the hell out of each other, but now, I think about it, and I realize that at an older age, I would probably appreciate the trip a lot more. There are a lot of woods to explore, and maybe getting lost in them someday would be fun. Sure, bears can be cheeky bastards, and attempt to ruin all the fun, but it’s hibernating season anyway, so. I haven’t seen my New Hampshire relatives in quite some time either. I wonder what they remember of me, or what I remember of them. What is life like up in the woods nowadays? I miss them, and I even feel guilty for having not stayed in touch. I really need to get up to New Hampshire soon. Smoke a tree in the woods, and have some rhubarb pie with Great Grammy. Tell my Grandma Gail all about my life today, and how much I miss her. Thanksgiving growing up was always synonymous with Ossipee. Live free or die was tattooed on my brain the moment we crossed the border into that state. I miss it, hope you have a happy thanksgiving, New Hampshire. I’m not coming this year, but maybe I’ll take some time to see you real soon.

another seemingly harmless week ahead at rutgers-newark. just hope shit doesn’t go down the way it did last week. got my car towed. that sucked. i now have a personal vendetta against the newark police. ever watch the show brick city? the newark police are trying to keep the murder rate down, and right now it is the lowest it has been in 5 years. you’re already overfunded; you have bigger problems to worry about. fuck off. i’m not doing anything illegal. just because you can’t fit your street sweeper into the small 6x12 rectangle that my car occupies doesn’t mean you have the right to violate my property. you busted the fuse box in my car to the point of no return, dented the roof, got mud and dirt all over it, and wrote in super permanent ink on my windshield, which i still cannot get off 4 days later. i think you’ve done enough newark. see, it is the small inconveniences, and the several crackheads begging me for change that will keep newark from growing into a thriving, bustling city. no self-respecting middle class parent is going to send their kid somewhere dangerous and inconvenient, so newark, keep your murder rate down, and stop fucking with the middle class, because you need us alot more than we need you. university students bring a ton of money to your community, so stop fucking with us, because you are screwing yourself over in the end.

on a lighter note, i can’t wait to hang with my friends this week. anthony is here until next monday, and i am trying to capitalize on time i get to spend with my army-bound friend. i’m gonna miss him. but the rest of the gang is cool too. trying to get arctic monkeys tickets for december 10, 11 possibly. i would love to see them again, but i am not going to go way out of my way, or pay too much for them. it’d be worth it, but with the holidays coming up, it might be difficult. when the hell is hanukkah this year? oh well. plenty of school work to do right now so ima get to it.

The past couple of days have been extremely stressful for me, because I have been dodging midterm head shots left, and right. Fortunately for me, my midterms have all been written assignments to be completed outside of class, which has helped in easing the stress of having to deal with drive-by multiple choice exams. Really my work has been cut out for myself, it is just a matter of setting aside the proper time to do it.

Today I revisited the relaxing nature of just taking a breath before plunging my head into freezing water. I might have all of this work to do now, but in a few days it will all be okay. My midterms will all have been turned in, and provided they are of the quality of my usual work, they should be nothing to worry about.

One of the most important things to help keep your gonads out of the vice grip of college stress, is to stay on track with your assignments in the first place. Instead of hitting the Dutch with your friends, hit the books. The sooner you get your work done, the better. Stressing out under the pressure of your school work is about as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. In the end, you are just making yourself realize all of the horrible consequences of not doing your assignments, and that in itself is enough to make anyone want to jump off of the top of a building.

So please my friends, don’t fuck around. Do your school work so we can hang out this weekend and smoke some oregano. Get back on track with your assignments, and you will get back on track with your life.

Love,

Dad

The the impotence of proofreading

By Taylor Mali

Has this ever happened to you?
You work very horde on a paper for English clash
And then get a very glow raid (like a D or even a D=)
and all because you are the word¹s liverwurst spoiler.
Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.

This is a problem that affects manly, manly students.
I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English teacher in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that¹s all I wanted, just to get into a good colleague.
Not just anal community colleague,
because I wouldn¹t be happy at anal community colleague.
I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation,
I really need to be challenged, challenged dentally.
I know this makes me sound like a stereo,
but I really wanted to go to an ivory legal collegue.
So I needed to improvement
or gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison
(in Prison, New Jersey).

So I got myself a spell checker
and figured I was on Sleazy Street.

But there are several missed aches
that a spell chukker can¹t can¹t catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave a word
your spell exchequer won¹t put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov might replace a word
with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because what do you want it to douch?
It only does what you tell it to douche.
You¹re the one with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit.
It just goes to show you how embargo
one careless clit of the mouth can be.

Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher read my entire paper on A Sale of Two Titties
out loud to all of my assmates.
I¹m not joking, I¹m totally cereal.
It was the most humidifying experience of my life,
being laughed at pubically.

So do yourself a flavor and follow these two Pisces of advice:
One: There is no prostitute for careful editing.
And three: When it comes to proofreading,
the red penis your friend.

Well, today was a nice day if you ask me. Chelsea’s mom Christine came up to visit us at Rutgers and we had a nice time. It is now 1:30 in the morning, and I am just about to embark on a trip to academia where my fullest intentions are not to get lost in the exciting school work I am about to partake in. I have never been happier in my life. Oh well, I figure if I do the work now, then when it is due, I will be able to go do something fun instead, like meth (hey i wonder what this stuff smells like. 3-5 minutes later… whoops looks like i got high, and am now a methhead!).

Just kidding folks, this is not some way of me telling you that I do meth. I just can’t stand the stuff really, and I would obviously never try it, so shame on you for thinking that I do, even if you only thought it for a second.

No; the title says follow your nose, because I am sitting here smelling my autumn pumpkin spice candle burning and it makes me want to go back to my childhood, specifically to my dad’s house in EHT, where I could jump around outside in a pile of leaves. When my brother Ben and I were growing up we played a lot outside, thanks to having a dad who who could enforce his children into going to play outside by using a simple classical conditioning method, and a bit of intimidation so that we knew he meant business. Little packs of cards here and there, which ranged from Pokemon to Magic filled Ben and I with glee, little did we know we were being puppeteered by the power of permissive parenting.

I guess Ben and I were for the most part good kids, who never really did anything to get us into actual legal trouble, but then again, repression in a powerful shield. The trouble we got into were usually elevated dramatic screaming and finger-pointing bouts with our step-father, Bob, and our Mom, Mims, but ocassionally the problem would stem from a small discrepancy between Ben and I (though it was always resovled in the end). The scars that the dysfunction has left have been long-lasting, however, and have made me wish that there was a reset or terminate button in life.

The smell of the candle might make me think of Autumn in South Jersey, but the true thing I am longing for, is a home of my own, where I can hit the reset button and establish equality and happiness. Maybe that home will smell like Autumn in South Jersey, but it will certainly not be in a place where I have experienced so felt so disdained. I am tired of trying to reconcile the irreconcilable. So I will say it now out loud to internet, to this new blog I have created, yet for now I will say it quietly in your ears: I am sorry mom, I am sorry Bob. If I ever did anything to truly make you have a mental crisis of any sort, I am sorry, and there is nothing I can do to repay you for the damage I have done. Psychological destruction tends to come as a result of someone inflicting harsh psychological damage. Repression is a powerful shield. There are plenty of things that people protect themselves from by hiding under the shield. I need no shield.

as mentioned before, today has been a very lazy day, which has afforded me the opportunity to think about many things. mainly i have been thinking about the week ahead. midterms have been hellish for college students across the country, myself included. my schedule has been optimum for studying opportunities, as i have had about a midterm a week for the past three weeks. this leaves the upcoming two weeks to come to resolve my remaining exams. human sexuality is going to suck. hard. the class is interesting, but the information is so jam-packed that i am going to really have to start buckling down and learning the information over the course of the next week.

i recently filled out a school-to-school transfer application from rutgers-newark to the new brunswick campus. i’m pretty sure that this is what i want to do. moving down to new brunswick will give me several more chances to meet people of the non-crackhead variety, which leaves me feeling happy, and secure. i feel like a bastard for leaving some of the friends that i have made behind, but if they are really my friends, then they will come and visit me, and likewise, i will visit the ones who mean something to me. but if they don’t come and visit, well, then i guess i will still live.

friends are an enigma to me. honestly, i never really realized how difficult it is to find people who can reciprocate the same feelings of love and trust that i give to them. i’ve been with chelsea for four years now, and she is just one of the few people that makes me feel the love and trust that i long for (and if she didn’t, it would be serious grounds for reconsidering the whole relationship, but luckily i have a good one:)). i can say that i have some meaningful friends, that care and send me the nourishment that i need, but my question is: why am i still hungry? why do i constantly evaluate the people around me, and sort them into different groups (the groups consist of friends, acquaintances, and users)? why is this such a dramatic issue in my life? do other people have such apprehensions regarding something as common as friends? do i just need to forget about it, and drink some beer, and move on with life? obviously these are all rhetorical questions, but any insight would be appreciated. if you aren’t comfortable publishing your thoughts on the web, send me a text message, or call me if you have my number. i’m not expecting to have some deep intellectual catharsis, but just getting a feel for this aspect of life will help me, and anyone i can reach out to that might be feeling the same way. complex questions like this might seem a bit cliche, even annoying; i know that when i took philosophy in high school, i used to get so peeved by the people who would ask “unanswerable” questions like this, but hey, it’s worth a shot, right? guys, girls, feel free to respond. or not.