GYRAD went well.

Kent’s Recommended Watch:

Andy Tennant:
Hitch

Didn’t I proclaim loudy, at one point, that I would never go on a blind date again?…

Well, fortunately, I didn’t stick do it. My GYRAD date was fun. I met a new, interesting person. The movie was funny. The food was great. The bonfire was okay. I got to go to Starbucks. All in all, things that make life good.

Skate night.

Skating last night, GYRAD today… somehow I have to squeeze time into my social calendar for homework. My roommate Mike (you may remember at Homecoming he was the pirate who wore two eyepatches and whaled on that tree) decided to not go skating last night. I told him it would be hilarious if he went out there on skates with his cane, but he opted for homework. The man spends almost as much time on homework as I do… it’s a little scary.

I didn’t fall down, but those skates bothered my arches. So I skated, then took a break, then skated more, then took another break… and so on throughout the evening. I didn’t recognize half the costumes, so I just assumed that many of them were cast members from “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.” I went as God, as usual.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have decaf at the snack bar. So the night was ruined.

Nah, it was fun. Got to watch a lot of people fall down.

Another blasé music pirate.

So I ripped that Fatherless and the Widow CD into my iMac, and I was listening to the new MP3s over my extemely loud speakers. A hallmate stopped by briefly to listen in. He could have heard it from his room, but he’s a Sixpence fan.

“I have that CD,” he said.

“I just bought it,” I said.

“You should have told me,” he said. "I could have let you have my CD."

“You don’t want it any more?” I asked.

The look on his face indicated he didn’t want to give it up.

“To have or to pirate?” I asked.

“To make a copy,” he said, as if that was a third option.

“I would much rather have a legal copy,” I said.

He left, shaking his head as if I was incomprehensible.

Typical.

More bad theology in music.

Kent’s Recommended Listen:
Sixpence None the Richer:
The Fatherless and the Widow

There’s a track on this CD I’m listening to, called “Soul,” which always annoys me. It’s about a father who’s dead; fatalistically, the writer decides we’ll never know his condition until he’s joined in the afterlife.

It’s funny… Christians often say, “Well, we won’t know that until we’re in heaven with Jesus.” Then they use the exact opposite argument in evangelism: “You don’t want to wait until you’re dead to find out your eternal destination!”

Isn’t the whole point behind the revelations in the bible that we don’t have to wait until the afterlife to find stuff out? Yet I hear this all the time from non-charismatics. They seem to be perfectly satisfied with a God who doesn’t talk to them anymore. (Must be easier on the conscience.) I couldn’t be. I’d be pissed at God if he cut me off that way. Who wants to follow a God who won’t answer your questions?

(I should qualify that… Sometimes God answers my questions with “You don’t need to know that” or “It’s beyond you” or “I already said it in Scripture; read your bible.” They’re not always answers I like, but they’re answers. They’re not nothing.)

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘝𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦, and shopping and angst.

Kent’s Recommended Watch:

Michael Radford:
The Merchant of Venice

Saw The Merchant of Venice today, which I reviewed below. Al Pacino should have got some kind of nomination for it, even though Jamie Foxx is gonna win the Best Actor Oscar.

Afterwards I went browsing at a thrift store… It’s always frustrating to buy clothes there, which is why I seldom bother. I don’t want to look like someone who’s still trapped in the ’80s… or ’70s… or even ’60s… Most guys never throw out their clothes until they’ve got holes in them, and you don’t give holey clothes to thrift stores. So most of the men’s clothing there are the result of (a) the wife who’s had enough and decided to donate all the 20-year-old clothes on his behalf, or (b) the heirs who just buried the guy and don’t see the point in keeping his clothes. The men’s selection is therefore horrible.

So why do I bother? Because I don’t want to look like another yutz who shops at the Gap; and because I’m cheap. Honestly, I don’t want to pay $40 for a shirt and $50 for slacks when I can get the same thing elsewhere for $30 less per item. Why do you think I buy most of my stuff through Amazon and eBay? (Heck, I’d buy groceries through them if I wasn’t worried about the stuff being tainted or way past the expiration date.)

Another negative girl, another useless professor, another writer in hell.

You know the type: thinks everyone at Bethany sucks, thinks all the Bethany professors suck, thinks her job sucks, thinks all the "popular" kids here suck, thinks most music, movies, and TV shows suck, and never says anything that isn’t vaguely laced with sarcasm. Be honest. You’ve seen such people.

I spent an unpleasant 30 minutes with one such person over the weekend. It was like having lunch with the high school version of myself. Afterwards, I felt the need to bathe, and scrape off some of the evil.

And you thought I was a quiet guy.

I force myself to be silent and watch.

’Cause those of you that read this know that I can rant about stuff easily. I do it several times a day. Heck, several times an hour. But since I’ve come to Bethany, I decided to not be my usual in-your-face obnoxious self and just shut up and listen. It’s a good habit to get into; and easier to do at the café because instead of opening my mouth I can just put food or coffee into it.

As a result, some people on this campus actually think I’m quiet. I find this hilarious. My hallmates can tell you different… but that’s okay. When all is said and done, I like being misunderstood. It makes it easier to mess with people’s heads.

I want an iPod.

iTunes is cool. Not only will they give you free music if you buy Pepsi or pay them with PayPal, but you can share music if you have “Sharing” in your preferences turned on. You can’t download someone else’s music to your computer, but you can listen to it… at least until they turn iTunes off.

The especially cool thing about it is that if I have my iMac plugged in to the school’s network, and I have my iBook plugged into it elsewhere, I can access my own iTunes playlist. So I don’t have to download 12 GB of music into my iBook’s crummy little 15 GB of space.

Man, do I need an iPod.

I know, I know, Xanga keeps running those ads where if I do something violent to one of the moving images, I can win an iPod. It’s a pyramid scheme, people; I can’t win an iPod unless I buy a service, then sucker five of you into doing the same thing—which includes trying to sucker 25 other people, who must then sucker 125 other people, then 625, then 3125, then 15,625… By the twelfth iteration, you’ve just about run out of Americans. By the fourteenth, you’ve run out of humans. Do the math.

I can load six CDs onto my pocket PC, and four into my two-inch MP3 player. But there’s just no substitute for carting around your whole music library in one little package. Sometimes I can’t believe I gave up earning a regular, decent income to go back to college. What was I thinking? …Oh, yeah, I want to teach. Never mind.

Gotta stop listing the things that annoy me.

All right, I’m calling a moratorium on me listing things at Bethany that bug me. While fun, I don’t want to be defined as the guy who gripes all the time about little piddling things. If you want me to comment on stuff, take the stuff you want me to comment on and comment on ’em yourself. Make your own lists. I’m not listing anything else until at least March. If not longer.

What's with this anti-corporate crap?

“Corporate” means “owned by lots of people, who make sure the managers behave themselves.” Why is that bad?

I was invited to Coffee Cat recently by someone who, in his invitation, commented, “I’d rather not go to Starbucks. They’re so corporate.”

Thus backing into another peeve of mine.

What’s with the objection with corporations? I’ve got a list (seems I always do, lately) of objections, and my responses—

• They’re impersonal. By “personal” they often mean “unique” or “friendlier.” Okay, all Starbucks look alike. Some people find that comforting; no matter where you go, a Starbucks will be a Starbucks. The employees will still be courteous; and if you’re regular enough, they’ll recognize you and remember your “usual.” (Unless you don’t have a “usual,” like me.) Often they’re a lot more willing to provide great customer service. When they botch an order, Starbucks apologizes and gives me free coffee coupons. When other places botch an order, they apologize and shrug; I have to demand a free coffee before I’d get one.
• They’re only focused on profits. So is everyone who owns a business. If you want to do charity work, you run a charity.
• You’re giving money to someone you don’t know instead of someone you know. I know many people that work at the Vacaville Walmart. My money doesn’t go directly to them; but any money I spend at a small business doesn’t go directly to the workers or owners there either. Not until suppliers and landlords (or big corporate mortgage companies) are paid, anyway.
• My money might go towards something I don’t approve of. This could always be true. When I spend $5 at a mom & pop hardware store, what’s to say that pop doesn’t use that money for his Klan dues, porn collection, meth, pirated Chinese DVDs, assault weapons, or any number of things I don’t appreciate? Corporations are more obvious in what they spend their money on because they’re more accountable. Individuals aren’t.
• They’re not accountable to anyone. Sure they are. Their leaders answer to board members and shareholders. If the leaders do anything to annoy either group, they’re fired. Individuals (like small business owners) answer to no one. If corporations are caught polluting, it makes the papers and heads will roll. If small business owners are caught dumping trash on the side of the road, they pay their fines and no one hears anything more. If a corporation cheats customers, people go to jail. If a small business owner cheats customers, the Better Business Bureau gets called. In every way, the small business is less accountable.
• “I support the little guy.” I support the little guy if he can produce as good or better than the big guy. That’s good, honest capitalism. If I’m supporting him because he can’t compete, that’s welfare. I only approve of welfare if people are somehow disabled, or will eventually wean themselves from it. But a lot of these shmucks make the same argument: “Small good, corporate bad.” Funny—you’d think they were capitalists, but they’re eager to switch to proto-Marxism whenever it serves their needs.
• They’re too powerful. Nothing is so powerful that it can’t be overthrown when it goes wrong. Pan Am used to be one of the most powerful corporations in the world; now it doesn’t exist. Standard Oil and AT&T; got split apart. It can happen.

Ultimately, I’m not pro-corporation; I’m just not anti-corporation. Sometimes corporate is better; sometimes it isn’t.

But I should say this: Whenever I do business with someone, especially over the internet, I am more often screwed over by individuals than corporations. Case in point: buying books over the internet. Whenever I buy stuff from Amazon, I get ’em within two weeks without fail. Whenever I buy stuff through Amazon, it could take two weeks; but sometimes it takes a month or longer or never. When this happens, Amazon is willing to pay me back for the purchase. So is Visa. God bless ’em.

Maybe it’s 𝘯𝘰𝘵 going on the list.

“All right,” I had said after someone did something annoying recently, “that’s going on the list!”

No it’s not. It wasn’t annoying enough. Plus, I shouldn’t make threats like that.

Stuff that is going on the list:

• People who ask obvious questions. When I’m doing homework, they come up to me and say, “Hey. Doing homework?” When I’m working on my laptop and desktop computers at the same time (which is typical; why use one computer when you can use two?) they’ll say, “Wow, are you using two computers at the same time?” When I’m in the lobby, they’ll ask, “So, you watching TV?” When I’m reading a book, it’s, “Reading a book, huh?” I understand that this is a college and the point is to make people smarter; I just wish the raw material wasn’t so raw sometimes.
• People who ask me “What’s up?” after I’ve just regained consciousness in the morning. Nothing is up. I’m not awake yet. I’m up, I suppose. But I’ve been very good about not saying the first thing that comes to my mind when they say that, which is usually something sarcastic like, “Your morning erection.” Gotta be a Christian. Gotta love your neighbor.
• The Macintoshes in the library. Not only do they sieze up every time I try to get them to do something, but because of them people assume every Mac does the same thing. So when people find out I have a Mac (or two), they complain what a sucky computer I have… yet they’ve never used it and don’t understand the significant difference between OS 9 (which the library computers run) and OS X (which my computers run, and as a result they run circles around other computers). But fortunately, because they don’t know how good my computers are, they never ask to borrow them. So there’s that.
• Getting my textbooks three days before the test. (I aced it anyway.)
• When Saturday events conflict with my Saturday classes.
• How people take certain professors less seriously because they have foreign accents.
• When the lemon bars in the café begin to slowly peel away from the sides, and little cracks begin to form in the top. Then you know they’ve been sitting there for three days. That’s how long it takes for them to shrivel.
• When Taco Bell is described as Mexican food.

And there will be more. Oh yes, there will be more.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦 is a piece of crap.

I was asked why I never got around to ranting about The Grudge. I thought I did all my ranting while the movie was playing… Truly awful, not scary, barely any plot, fake behavior, unrealistic dialogue, and I’ve already wasted 90 minutes of my life on it. Why waste more?

Movies don’t scare me. And don’t try to give me recommendations about movies that scared the bejeezus out of you; every time I foolishly take someone up on their recommendation, I waste another 90 minutes on another plot-free piece of junk where the story would have only taken 10 minutes if the director wasn’t busy trying to stretch out the suspense. They just don’t. I’ve seen much scarier stuff in real life.

About the list of things that annoy me.

The only problem with all the pressure to add to my list of things that annoy me is that not that many things really annoy me.

You’ll notice, fr’instance, that there are no actual people on my list. There’s bad behaviors. “People who…” can be anyone. Could be you. But other than the occasional bad or stupid behavior, people don’t annoy me.

They sure used to, back when I was a knee-jerk right-wing idiot. I was making the same mistake most political nutjobs do—seeing people as demographics instead of as individuals. Consider how stupid it is to hate liberals when my Lord is a liberal.

Seriously. He loves everyone, even (and especially) freaks. He gives freely to all, without merit or expecting any sort of payment, and won’t cut off benefits just because they slack off. He forgives everyone of every single last nasty sin they can possibly think up. He provides free health care. He’s a foster parent to billions whose own parents have screwed up royally. I could go on, but you see my point.

Loving everyone like God loves them isn’t easy, but it takes care of most of the things that drive other people to kill or maim. It makes all these little annoyances things I can laugh at instead of things that fester. That’s why I didn’t title them “Things that Piss Me Off.”

…Okay, hypocrisy pisses me off. But that’s about it.

And then some additions to it.

So you wanted more things that annoy me…

• The tremendous amount of spam on First Class. Now that people can send files to everyone, they do it too bloody often—every time they lose a freakin' mitten. Worse yet, some people reply to everyone. Good thing I don't have dial-up, or I'd have to wait 30 seconds per page to find out that the next three messages consist of some yutzes, whose VCRs are still blinking noon, responding to Dr. Rossi's latest with, “Great news!” and “Amen!” and “That blesses me so much.”
• This campus's lack of recycling bins. Every five hundred feet, the city of Scotts Valley has a recycling bin; but on this campus, nobody gives a crap about the planet.
• The paranoia about the mountain lions. They're too busy filling up on house pets and baby deer to attack a cholesterol-filled Bethany student, yet there are too many people afraid to walk to their dorms at night.
• The fact that the lobby couches are getting shinier over time. (Don't analyze this too deeply.)
• People who say “How's it going?” but never stop walking past you for an answer. (I complained about this already, but this morning Bill Kassis did his impression of it and reminded me of it. Bill rocks.)
• Worship Leaders Who Capitalize Every Word In The Songs They Put On The Overhead.
• People who have to interrupt your TV program for sports scores. Do they not understand that this is what the internet is for?
• People who want me to pirate CDs and DVDs for them. Then they stare at me blankly whenever I mention the word “theft.” Are their consciences that seared?
• La gente que habla español siempre que otro que habla español camina en el cuarto. Entiendo que debes practicar o la lengua sale; no es personal. Pero eso recuerdame a mis vecinos que hablan en español siempre que desearon a hablar sobre mí “detrás de mi posterior.” (I know; “behind my back” doesn't really translate.) Ellos no saben que era en una escuela de español. Es más divertido a fingir que no entiendo. Oigo más.
• People who say, “Man, we need to put together a study group!” and then you discover that you're the only one doing any studying; they just want to sponge answers off you.
• People who fart in the lobby whenever everyone else leaves for a commercial break, then pretend they don't smell the foul stench when people return and windows must be opened.
• People who rip on Bill Clinton. When he was president, did you ever pray for him? Aren't we supposed to pray for our leaders, whether we agree with them or not? (And I find if you're praying for someone on a regular basis, you're gonna find that it's a little hard to rip on him.)
• The stench of stale Top Ramen. Yet people still eat the stuff. The stuff costs a dime, people; when it goes bad, you can afford to throw it out. Don't they notice any connection between the stale Ramen and the eventual stomach cramps?
• Burnt popcorn. The microwave has a “popcorn” setting, people. Use it. If it doesn't pop all the kernels, there's a reason; the company is giving you shoddy product. Zapping it another minute will only get you ashes.
• People who use Mike's body wash and piss in Fermin's shampoo bottle. I have instructed Mike to fill his empty bottle with honey and see what kind of results he gets. There's a bunch of savages around here.
• People who throw crumpled-up napkins in the café. Sometimes they hit me. I may have to retaliate… after first filling the napkin with soup or nose blow or something equally foul.
• People who come into the hall during Open Dorms, can't find the person they're looking for, and come back every five minutes to exclaim, loudly, that he's still not here. Of course he's not here. He's avoiding you. I would.
• The preaching contests. Some of the guys in my hall are trying to see who can sound like they’re the most on fire for God. There’s something artificial about the whole thing that I find disturbing. It resembles hypocrisy.
• Puddles in the microwave.
• People who take out your half-done laundry and leave it on the counter. I ranted about this once before. It still bugs me. If I catch anyone doing it, to me or anyone else, I will have to ruin their day.
• People who complain about mandatory chapel. Why, then, did you come to a school that has them? Go to UCSC. It costs less and they have Open Dorms 24 hours a day.
• People who complain about being stuck on campus. Are your legs broken? I get off campus more often than some of the people who have cars. How do you think I get my groceries, videos, and non-biblical books? How do you think Jesus got from Capernaum to Jerusalem and back every year? (Or across the Galilee?)

Again, more when I have them.

The big fat lecture, or as Bethany calls it, “town hall.”

Chapel this morning was a town hall. The women had their meeting, and the men had theirs, and in them the Resident Directors discussed dorm issues. Mainly it has to do how we’re acting like children. Our RD tried to avoid saying this, but not very successfully.

But the fact is that most of us on this campus have never lived anywhere but with our parents, and we don’t know how to behave like adults. I see examples of this all the time. Most of the things that annoy me about this campus are directly related to the immature behaviors of the teenagers and early-twentysomethings that populate this campus.

And, sad to say, a lot of times this college simply encourages the delayed childhood of most of these people. This isn’t the intention—the intention is to show Christian love and grace—but it’s obviously the result. If some of these people were simply presented with adult consequences, they’d grow up instantly.

I approve of the TNIV.

On an entirely separate tack—

Downloaded myself a TNIV bible off the internet. I don’t like the NIV; it’s too inconsistent with Greek texts, it’s not consistent with present-day spoken English, and not gender-neutral where it needs to be translated that way. And yet Zondervan keeps insisting on basing their reference books on it.

The TNIV is two steps in the right direction, but they need to get rid of that policy of letting the translators use whatever manuscripts they like best and either (a) use an existing critical text, or (b) create their own and include an appropriate critical apparatus.

Strangely, I find myself reading the King James Version more often… It’s neither gender-neutral nor contemporary, but it’s poetic in a way other translations aren’t.

More stuff that annoys me about living on campus.

Stuff to add to the list (see the last post—)

• When the café serves the same stuff for lunch and dinner.
• People who leave stuff in the shower.
• People whose closest personal relationship is with an unrelated person of the other gender, yet they’re “not dating.” (One of my previous roommates married one such “friend.”)
• K-group meetings at the same time as Alias.
• Catching other people’s flu. Which I’ve done. But it should be gone by tomorrow morning. I just need a good four hours’ sleep.

Like I said, more when I got ’em.

Amusing comic strip: Canary on bun.

Garfield, by Jim Davis, 1/31/2005.

Okay, time for a big fat rant list.

And now, in no particular order,

THINGS THAT BUG ME
ABOUT LIFE ON CAMPUS.

• Hypocrisy. Actually, make this number 1. Everything else in no particular order. See, in Christian schools, everyone has be be good Christians because it’s expected of them. Not by the faculty or staff, who know better; it’s entirely based on peer pressure. I don’t mind the sinning that goes on a fraction as much as I mind the righteous attitudes artificially taken against it outside the dorms.
• The thumping upstairs. I don’t know what they’re doing—aerobics, moving furniture, pillow fights, drunkenly falling out of bed, whatever. I only hope it’s not crippling. They need to pick better hours to do it.
• The singing. It’s like living in a frickin’ musical around here sometimes. While there are many talented people on this campus, their song selection sucks. Stevie Wonder did it right the first time; nobody will outdo him; don’t try. And what’s with all the Johnny Mathis stuff?
• At 3 a.m. And they have to sing it at 3 a.m. The only person who should be awake around here at 3 a.m. is me. Go to bed!
• People who stay awake till 3, then complain the next day of being tired. Don’t stay up all hours if you aren’t willing to suffer the consequences. And don’t go blaming it on age. I’ve heard too often, “Man, I can’t pull all-nighters like I used to when I was 18. I’m getting old.” I pull all-nighters for fun and I’m 10 years older than most of them. Sleep is for the weak.
• Guys who wrestle. Basically they’re repressed and looking for an excuse to hug one another. But it shouldn’t make so much bloody noise, nor should it block the hallway.
• Speakers louder than mine. But fortunately, there aren’t any in my hall.
• Those who abuse the bathroom. These include people who don’t flush, people who leave toilet paper all over the floor, people who miss the trash, people who hit the seat, people who leave puddles of soap or gel or cream on the sink, people who leave little hairs all over the sink or shower, and of course showerbators.
• Burnett guys in Burnett South’s lobby. They come here to use our TV for their video games. Use your own bloody TV.
• Burnett guys in Swanson Hall’s lobby. Then there are the guys who are always hanging out in Swanson’s lobby, regardless of whether they’re with a girlfriend or not, or if they even have one. That’s just sad. “Lounge lizards,” I call them.
• People who flirt by insulting, hitting, or other juvenile behavior. Sadder than the lounge lizards.
• Those who assume because I’m not in their bible or Greek classes, they know more than me. Actually, though, they’re kind of fun because I can mess with their heads a lot. Scratch that.
• People who get out of their seat and run around shouting when their team makes a touchdown. Or makes a basket, hits a home run, scores a goal, outscores the other figure skaters… As if they did it.
• Women who complain they’re not dating, yet don’t ask anyone out. It seems many women have never read the book of Ruth, so they don’t believe they can. Instead, they assume that since men are supposed to be spiritual leaders in the home, we’re to take the initiative in dating. Since when is asking someone out a sign of spiritual leadership? Is this a characteristic we’re to look for in a pastor—great with pickup lines? For crying out loud, it’s not leading a prayer group; it’s saying, “Hello. I’d like to get to know you better. Would you have coffee with me?”
• The café doesn’t serve yogurt for breakfast. Actually, they don’t serve most of my favorite breakfast foods. No lox, no grits, no Wheaties, no Grape Nuts, no onion bagels, no poached eggs on toast, no lemon scones. And lately they’ve been scrimping on the Starbucks.
• No air conditioning. Which isn’t an issue in February, but wait until May.
• The tap water. Which I now believe is contaminated with mold. The smell is the same as some mold which once contaminated my water cooler.
• People who complain that they’ve got a paper due tomorrow and it’s 11 p.m. It’s their own bloody fault they put it off till now. They get no sympathy from me.

More as they come up. These only came up within the past week.

Always room for Jello.

Jello Biafra’s a really angry man. Listen, but be prepared to be offended.

How homecoming went for me.

Coffee with friends today; they came for homecoming and tired of it quickly. And why wouldn’t they? From what I’ve observed of it, it’s as boring as staring at your roommate while he sleeps. You spend eighty or so bucks (not counting hotel) to come to the campus and attend a few basketball games, a homecoming court you don’t know, various undercooked luncheons, over-long alumni meetings, and speeches. Yeah, that’s what good ol’ Bethany makes us nostalgic for—meetings and speeches. Guess we didn’t get enough classes or hear enough in chapel.

Anyway, they tired of it because it consisted of—their words—“a lot of old people.” That’s true; I saw a lot of old people here and there at various alumni functions. The reunions were, after all, for the people who graduated 10 years ago, 20 years ago, 30 years… by your 30-year reunion you’re getting up there. This would be my seventh if they had one. (I’m old, you know.)

So we went to Starbucks, where we only saw two or three old people, and I got to share disturbing stories about inappropriately dressed people in public places, dressing one’s pets, Stephen King’s odd behavior, sheep mating habits, where dolphins have hair, the Titan space probe, and why it’s fun to be a teacher.

Just like old times.

There’s a lot of useless crap on other blogsites.

When I go poking around other blogsites I am struck by how frequently plagiarism passes for blogging. The main thing it signifies to me is that people really have nothing to say, but want to maintain their online presence, so they post their favorite worship song, memory verse, or something random they found on the ’net.

Sad.

This is what I get for not checking my mail.

You never know when you’ll miss an important letter.

My sister dropped off a pile of mail, which was mostly junk and student loan invoices (which, since I have the loan payments directly deposited, aren’t a worry). So I spent a few minutes this morning disposing of magazine subscription offers, credit card offers, Republican party fundraisers, and coffee-of-the-month club offers. (Not that the coffee-of-the-month thing wasn’t tempting. It’s great coffee.)

I usually don’t check the loan invoices because everything’s pretty automatic. Stupid me.

The annoyance came when I discovered that, in November, my student loan company was “pleased to accept your request for deferment until May 2006” which is when I graduate. I didn’t ask for a bloody deferment. I intended to keep making loan payments throughout my time in school. But either someone asked or assumed on my behalf. So I figured I’d just call and start it up again, or mail them money, or something.

The next annoyance came in another envelope, where the company informed me (again in November) that because of my deferment, I’m no longer eligible for an interest rate deduction. True, it’s a small percentage, but it adds up. So now I’m out possibly hundreds of dollars because I didn’t check my mail.

Learn from my mistakes, people. Check your mail.

Kent’s Recommended Listen:
Miles Davis:
Kind of Blue

On the up side, I now have the speakers my dad gave me for Christmas, which I can now crank up to 11. They render the little speakers I got with my iMac useless; the iMac speakers don’t plug into anything else. And, unfortunately, now I can hear the hiss on all my vintage jazz CDs. Kind of Blue with hiss makes me kind of annoyed; I thought I had the digitally remastered version. But I can now play my U2 albums loud enough to shake the structural foundations of the building.

If it’s too loud, you’re too old!

Thoughts on Homecoming.

Homecoming is the strangest ritual.

In its most basic form, it’s a big scam for a school to convince alumni to visit. Somehow or other, we’ve likewise managed to incorporate class performances, a popularity contest (“the Homecoming court”), dress-up days, and a basketball game—which amuses the alumni, but really they’re just here to see how things have changed and to reconnect with old friends. (And, in my case, we can talk about how our class, 1998, won the Homecoming competition all four years. We rocked, you see. But nowadays nobody remembers this.)

I heard from two or three old friends, myself. I may bump into more tonight at the basketball game. I’ll definitely see my sister, who’s visiting, but not really visiting me. (She can see me anytime, whereas she doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to visit college friends).

…Of course, all of this has to take place after class gets out at 9 p.m. That’s right, I have Friday night classes. At least it’s an interesting class; but the idea of Friday night classes at all sucks. Maybe it’s all part of the conditioning that teachers have to get to prepare us for having no social lives. I dunno.

Tattoos require commitment.

Got into a discussion with R, and I found it interesting enough to bring up, even though it’ll likely get me into trouble.

I have no tattoos. I don’t disapprove of them; I simply don’t care to get one. I have found nothing that I’d like to permanently decorate myself with.

I have found that most people I know who have tattoos got them on a whim—that is, they wanted one because tattoos are cool (currently) and may have wanted one for a long time; but as far as picking out what they would be decorated with… well, they went to the tattoo parlor, picked the most interesting thing there, and now it’s permanently etched into their skin.

Now, this doesn’t strike me as being very wise. If you’re gonna get a tattoo, it’s a committment, dammit. You’re gonna wear this thing forever; or you’re gonna get it removed with painful laser surgery, which to my mind isn’t a reasonable option. So you’d better be bloody sure you want the thing. And of the people I know with tattoos, roughly a third of the people in their thirties and older are planning to get their tattoos removed. The rest are okay with them… or so they say. I get the feeling most would rather redo that particular youthful decision.