Stray Thoughts

Please note that this post was written out over a period of a few days.

• I received my grades from Pitt by mail yesterday (May 3, 2003). Amazingly, I passed all of my classes even though I turned in almost nothing for Religion and Politics (Which I got a B- in). It looks like I will be a junior at Pitt in four months. Wonders never cease...
• I have an immense dislike for people who drag their feet. You know those people who walk along and all you hear is *SCUFF SCUFF SCUFF* from their shoes because they are too lazy to pick them up another inch. Okay, I let that go for the people who are physically inhibited and cannot walk normally, but I see so many people everyday that walk along and drag their feet on the pavement like the gravity was cranked up an extra 2 Gs, and these are usually the people without any physical problems.
  
  I think this says a lot about the person's character, namely that they are probably lazy in one way or another, and that they could be shallow. It annoys me to see this going on all the time. It is not like everyone does this, but more than enough do drag their feet. If I ever did something like this, I would probably kill myself (Or let it slide because it would be "Okay" by my different standards on my different self; I probably would not even notice it).
• I cannot stop thinking about Erin. I hope my thoughts and feelings for her are not fleeting like a crush or something similar. I know I have never loved someone in this way before, and as much as I want to "get it right the first time," I do not want to feel like some ronin for the rest of my life.
  
  Last night (May 4, 2003), Allison and Steve wanted to borrow Lance's car so Allison could practice driving stick shift. Afterwards, we went to Friendly's and had ice cream, and I told Allison how I felt about Erin (Steve already knew prior, but had not told Allison about it). It felt nice telling someone else my feelings directly and then receiving feedback on what to and what not to do. Allison even asked me, "Eric, do you want to have a girlfriend who is constantly cheerful, upbeat, always going places, and does not usually has a lot of time for any one thing?" I hesitated in answering her only because she said practically everything that I had already knew and thought about Erin, but I gave her a "Yes" in short order and without any doubts. Allison then asked me, "Eric, can you stop drinking and smoking while you are with Erin?" I replied with a laugh, "You act like that would be difficult."
• The running joke with my mother is that she should become a professor at Pitt and teach Blonde Logic 101 class (Brunette Logic 201 is down the hall). This started last Sunday, and my mother laughed at this prospect, considering it a joke aimed only at her occasional stupidity. After saying this joke multiple times, it completely lost all humor that it once had and no longer became funny. However, I began calling her the Professor (I will stop referring to her as this in a few days when she understands that she should quit acting like an idiot all the time), and I think she is mostly annoyed with this constant "harassment" I throw at her. Whatever... She is the one who could not figure out how to open up my grade report from Pitt even though it said clearly "Tear Here" in three spots.
  
  Knowing how she is, maybe I will just refer to her as the Professor for the rest of the summer.
• I am currently trying to "audit" myself and figure out exactly how much I have spent on purchasing anime (Usually in the form of DVDs). I know that it will add up to at least $1,200, and I know that my friends and family would be horrified to learn this fact. Yet, I know that no one has a problem with my mother refinancing the house just so they can purchase two cars that they really do not need at all. I wonder if they would be horrified to know how much money I have spent on purchasing books throughout the years (I already have shelves of read books and a box full of unread books, and I know that it would all add up to at least $1,500). What about computer games?
• My parents keep on dumping more and more shit into my room as if it was a second closet. I have no problem with them doing that when I am at college, but when I am living at home for the summer, they need to learn to not fill up my room with garbage. Now that I give it some thought, I should just bring a garbage can into my room (I forgot to mention, but my room is the smallest in the house; even the guest room makes my room look like a small box by comparison) so I can just dump out all of this shit that is laying around. Who collects those "collectible" Hess trucks? Either way, the next time there is a garage sale at my house, I am going to drag that garbage bag full of stuff out to the driveway and mark it for 1¢. If that does not do the trick, then I am sure that the garbage men will be less than happy to drag it away.
• I looked through my senior year yearbook from high school (Called the Choclatier 2001) the other day, and afterwards, I could not tell if I was scared or delighted. I glanced through all of the pictures, and without looking at the name titles, I could not even remember a quarter of the people's names. I know for a fact that I could name all of the people in my graduating class by the sound of their voices only a scant two years ago, and now, I have a problem recognizing who Rebecca Gassert (Voted the Best Looking by my class, and she definitely deserved it) even though I knew a dozen guys who told me that they wanted to rape her until she bled (Not surprisingly, I found talk that was more disturbing than that throughout high school). I find that it is scary simply because I spent a good chunk of my life (Nine years) with most of these people for nine months of a year and I cannot remember their names; at the same time, I am relieved to know that I do not know most of their names because a lot of them were complete assholes and I could care less if they lived or died. This will be something that I will have to spend some time pondering about.
• Yesterday (May 4, 2003), I went to Hersheypark for "orientation" at 10 AM. I had a problem with waking up then, and I know that I will have to wake up at 6 AM most days just to get to work on time. Anyways, I got to "orientation," and it was a bad joke. Most of the content was directed at people working in the Foods department, and although I work in the Foods Warehouse, we are entirely separate by rules and responsibilities. I could care less about customer service (I found it weird that they want to refer to customers as "guests" but they call them "customers" while "orienting" their staff) simply because I am almost never physically inside of the park; I drop off food at certain places around the park, and verbal contact with guests is kept to a minimum, which is usually "Sir/Miss, please get out of my way" or "No, the Wild Cat is straight down this path and is directly across from the Mouse." Nevermind that there are enough maps scattered all over Hersheypark so that even a blind man could find a way from point A to point B in a matter of seconds, but they feel the need to bother me for directions while I am carrying around 120 lbs of melting ice that is for keeping their soda cold.
  
  As I think about this more, I realize something: how am I going to juggle work and a relationship with Erin? The problems keep on piling on...
• Bert spends most of his days on my bed. He is my teddy bear, and this is something that most people find mildly disturbing whenever they do find out that I sleep with a teddy bear. There is nothing special about him; peach-colored fur, two black beads for eyes, and a brown nose. He wears a pink-red bracelet around his neck that serves as his necklace (The running joke with it is that he got it at Mardi Gras in New Orleans) as well as medical tape wrapped around his right leg with writing on it reading, "Get well soon! Ali, Erin." In short, a cute little teddy bear.
  
  I remember getting him almost two years ago after I screwed up my right leg in a four-wheeler accident. Allison and Erin came over one afternoon a few days after my accident and gave me a few things to cheer me up (Besides Bert, this also included a plastic rose, a bottle of "anti-stress" bubble bath, and their company), and it was all greatly appreciated. Since then, I have subtly "grown close" to Bert by taking him almost everywhere that I go. If I am at Pitt, I will just leave him on my desk, but if I may be going home for the weekend, I will take him with me. There is no attraction towards him in any way, but more of a sign of respect towards who he is. He may be an inanimate object, but I think he represents something critical: caring.
• I started reading Battle Royale by Koushun Takami almost a week ago, and although I am only 200 pages into it, I find something a bit disturbing: I had this exact same idea for a television show, and I thought that this is what "Survivor" was supposed to end up being. The whole "Survivor" television series ended up being "the pussy way out" in my mind, and I thought that if they wanted real television, they should create a show where people are dropped off on an island and are forced to kill one another. In short, natural selection on live television. Show people just how disgusting and brutal killing really is, and make them realize that wars create no glory and no heroes. Of course, I know that this message would be skewed in the end just to get better ratings and whatnot.

I have to remember to try this format on a later date. It is fun to have the "oddball" every once in a while to talk about little things instead of long "essays" used to discuss only one topic.