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That terrible feeling you get when you completely disagree with somebody's actions, but for some reason or another you can't let them know about your feelings on the topic, eventually you end up helping them because they can't do it without you, and at the end of it all they thank you for everything you've done and you feel sick.

I think the word for this one might be regret, but that seems far too vague.

I think sometimes that I'm in the wrong major. I have a lot of hobbies and interests that I enjoy doing, and I could turn them into legit jobs if I wanted to. It would be an absolute dream to go to school and study material sciences, and then go on to become a prop maker for big-budget Hollywood movies. I would thoroughly enjoy studying anatomy and art, and becoming an illustrator for medical books and diagrams and whatnot. How neat would it be to study psychology in school, and then become an expert on the subconscious mind and dreams? I could become a novelist, or a computer programmer, or even a musician.

But I treat all of these things as hobbies. I can always make things in my spare time. I draw whenever I feel like it. I dream every night. I can write, code, or play music any day of the week.

So why don't I feel like it's worth my time to make any of these things more than a hobby? I've picked a major that is pretty much none of these things. My major is something I would never do in my free time. I mean, I find what I'm studying to be interesting. But wouldn't it make more sense to study something I have a passion in? Something that I'll take home and work on, whether or not it's been assigned? I'd like to rewind a few years and pick a school better suited to my tastes. I thought I knew what I wanted, but it seems I've changed my mind.

Granted, though, I'm a terrible musician. I don't think I could actually turn that one into a job.

Unbegrudged

That feeling of picking up a new craft with cumbersome tools, and thinking that there must be a better way of doing things, and as you work you can think of only improvements that can be made to these tools, but after years of work there is a general complacency as you learn how to use to tools effectively, and eventually you forget any and all innovations and just use the tools the only way you know how.

I feel that way about web browsers, keyboards, carving wood, acrylic paints, the US government, web forums, IM clients, clay sculpting, video games, and silverware.

I can't even begin to think of a word to describe this feeling.

All Of The

There is a very important thing that I need to get done this afternoon, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with how my mother's birthday is tomorrow. All I know is, because of the importance of this thing, I am procrastinating like crazy. I'm putting it off and I don't even know what it is.

I just got back from spring break. Kayla and I went on a road trip. We saw Mount Rushmore, shopped at mall of America, checked out Lake Superior, and drove a lot. Lots and lots of driving.

Mount Rushmore is creepy during the off season. Entire towns pretty much shut down. Closed For The Season signs on every door.

People in South Dakota have no idea how to drive.

Minnesota has the worst laid-out highways I have ever seen. Especially near cities.

Lake Superior is actually pretty nice, but I got the feeling I wasn't supposed to be there and someone was going to kill me in my sleep.

North Dakota... North Dakota. What the fuck is up with your highways?! What were you thinking?! Were you trying to break the suspension in every car that drives through?!

A while ago, I was thinking about how well I can hear my neighbor through the wall when she's on the phone. Either she speaks super loud on the phone, or she stands and talks at my wall while she does it. And then I thought about how she must be able to hear me equally well. Now, I make weird noises and say odd stuff just to confuse her. Today, I'm watching some Let's Play of scary games on my TV, with the volume turned up loud enough to sound like the person is totally in my room. Lots of screaming and cursing. Must be confusing for her.

The other day, I played some foreign talk radios. Some language I couldn't even recognize. I would pause them and talk back at them sometimes.

I decided to make her think I was an alien, and would go around my room making beeping noises. "MISSION--ACCOMPLISHED COMMANDER. BIP."

And sometimes I just say weird things to myself, but now I make a point of saying them at her wall. "I'm sorry, theater makes me violent." "No, the owl does not belong in my boot." "Why am I making myself look like myself?" "There are no words on it! Fix that!"

Klacxion Traction

I'm supposed to be doing this easy homework assignment right now, but I keep putting it off. I was having some sort of creative rush, and I thought I'd do something related to that NaNovel I was writing back in November. I never finished it, but I'm not done with it. I haven't planned an ending for it yet, but it's headed somewhere and I'd like to get there someday. Today, I thought I'd just turn some of my favorite scenes so far into comics. Thing is, I don't really remember the scenes I wrote. So I've been wasting time reading it through. I'm at one of my favorite parts, and I seriously can't stop reading it. It's hilarious. It's interesting. The pacing is awful. I am definitely the target audience for this book.

Here, let me share some parts with you:

In this part, the main character is lying on the floor (out of boredom) while the captain, Jackson the dog, tries to clue him in on some things.

“So, those Klacxions are pretty weird, huh?” Jackson remarked. I guess small talk is allowed when Jackson does it, because the last time I tried to comment on something trivial he called me a snot face.

“Klacxions? What?” I’m not an alien, I don’t pretend to know this stuff.

“Baxter and Ethel. They’re Klacxions.”

“Oh, Klacxions.” Sometimes I do pretend to know this stuff. “Yeah, they’re a bunch of weirdos.”

Here, the main character, ol' Whatshisface, tries to avoid doing work.

Of course, there is nowhere to go if I’m not in the main room. So I walked circles around the hallway. I tried to think of it as getting some exercise. It was about as boring as walking on a treadmill, but I didn’t want to go back into the main room and have Jackson talk some more about his kitchen. I also didn’t want to go do anything resembling work.

Yes, this is by far the most exciting space adventure I have ever been on.

“Tommie, stop being an idiot.” Oh, look, it’s Baxter. He’s standing in the hallway, just like me. Yay, hallway buddies.

“I do what I want.” I said as I squeezed past him and continued walking. Why is he just standing in the hallway?

“Shouldn’t you be making beds?”

“There’s no rush—Augh what?!” During that last lap around the hallway, Baxter managed to take off all of his clothes. “Why are you naked?!”

Baxter frowned. “I’m about to check out the engine room, and I don’t want these clothes to burn.” Baxter placed his neatly folded clothes next to the door to the engine room. “You should stand back, it’s really hot in there and you might melt.”

I did more than just stand back, I went through the nearest door and got the Hell out of there. I don’t think I’ll ever take a stroll around the hallway again. If I ever feel like doing some exercise to avoid work again, I’ll just do sit-ups in my bunk room. I feel like I’m less likely to walk into a naked alien in there.

And then, this part here, the main character daydreams while standing around in a room he shouldn't be in at all.

I really want to know more about this computer. Do you think it gets some sort of galactic internet? I wonder if Baxter has ever used it to have video conversations with other people. I can totally imagine receiving a message from some Gorblaxian space commander on an enemy ship about to attack, telling us to surrender. And then Jackson would be all like “No way, fire the lasers!” And the entire ship would start to shake as the enemy fired back, and Jackson goes like “All energy to the shields! We will never surrender!” Pew pew pew! And Ethel, wearing a miniskirt, is all “Oh, save me, first mate Tommie!” and I’m all “You can count on me,” only I say something way cooler than that. And then Baxter and I grab our huge freaking laser guns, set our phasers to kill, and teleport over to the enemy ship to kick some evil alien ass. I totally save the day when I burst into the captain’s room and shoot his face off, and then rescue the hot alien slave princess—

“What the Hell are you doing in here?!” Oh, shit, Baxter is back.

And then, shortly after Baxter walks in on MC:

I scrambled back to my feet and grabbed the nearest things to me, while Baxter calmly stood up and moved toward me. “Stand back!” I warned. “Or I’ll… I’ll lick this book! I’ll slobber all over it!” Baxter grimaced.

“Put those down. Get out.” He looks so angry, but his voice is so level. I wish he wouldn’t move so slowly, it’s freaking me out.

“I’ll pee on this doll!”

“Leave.”

“Don’t hurt me!” I couldn’t bring myself to move. I think this is one of those fight or flight reaction things. Either my reaction would be to run away in complete terror, or stand there and try to fight. I can’t move, so I must be trying to fight. It’s sad to think that my idea of fighting is threatening to pee on dolls.

This one here is best without any context.

Oh God, Baxter is totally naked and on the floor right now. Everything is really awful in this room.

Okay, that's enough of that. All these scenes are from the same part of the book. Pretty much, all of this happened in less than an hour in-story.

Right, let's do that homework assignment.

Twelve Delegations

In every Sociology and Anthropology class I have ever taken, there is always this one person that sticks out. They're always a full-grown woman, of at least forty, who has obviously Returned To School. Probably to Finally Earn Her Degree. She always sits right up front, and she is never afraid to share her opinion of something with the whole class. Even though whatever she has to say is a huge waste of time. She will always ask about why whatever we're learning differs so much from her personal experiences growing up, and the answer is always that personal experiences don't always match results from large-scale studies. And then she will assert that her experiences are more correct, and probably tell us an anecdote about her son or daughter that is more or less irrelevant. After a few weeks, nobody sits by her anymore.

I only bring this up because there is a lady like that in my Sociology class right now, and it seems like my professor knows her type and doesn't like it. I find that hilarious. I could tell that my professor had her pegged after the second long-winded and ultimately useless question she asked, and stopped calling on her. But that doesn't stop this lady, she'll interrupt the lecture if she has to. When this happens, my professor gives off very strong (and very practiced) body language that says to hurry the fuck up and stop talking.

It's incredibly entertaining.

Best Western Europe

I'm supposed to be doing reading for a class (I am very far behind in reading in that class because I only just bought my books, despite this being the third week of school), but this current reading is boring to me. It is also 50 dense pages long. So instead I thought I'd read the professor's notes on it. Right at the top there, she wrote that this is a radical piece, and she really hopes that it sparks debate and discussion. I may not be very far into it, but I think I understand the main theme: Europe is not the center of the world, and most of the world is nothing like Europe.

Whaaaaaaaat?

I never would have thought...!

It probably does have a few radical ideas in it, but the ones outlined in the intro are pretty common ideas to anyone that has spent time talking to a foreigner. It's also annoying to read about how Europe is considered to be "The West" and everything is else everything else, and we're not sure exactly were Western Europe ends and oh, I guess America is sort of apart of Europe I mean it has to be apart of something. It confuses me that a power as big as America is barely even considered to be a Western culture by this guy.

But then again, I'm still not very far into it. Maybe he discusses other large powers, such as Japan and America, later on.

Do you think the radical idea my professor was talking about was that America doesn't matter to Europeans? I do wonder.

Clippers

Things I am missing:
- iPod
- Nail clippers
- Tapestry needles (3)
- Blue Scissors
- iPod connector
- Rechargeable batteries (2)
- Special pencil leads (3)
- Digital camera
- Thumb drive (4)
- Japanese-English dictionary
- Scotch tape
- Sharpie (2)
- Computer files (hundreds)
- Photoshop disk
- Flash MX disk
- Guitar picks (15+)
- Red bandanna

Where the heck are all of my possessions?