Three words for Merriam-Webster, courtesy Gillette-Wuchenich

Current mood:accomplished

whimtrigue - the lazy Sunday morning curiosity that might cause an individual to shave one of his legs, possibly the left one, because a) it's winter, and he won't have to wear shorts for some time; and b) he won't be in the company he normally keeps for some months; and c) he wondered if he was hiding any unsightly bruises beneath all that manly fur (he wasn't); and d) GOB might need a good pair of legs for his tricks. Illusions. You know, just in case George Michael isn't always available; and e) he did wonder how it would feel. spokey - how it feels now. a sort of smooth pokey. like some of those cacti. i would say cactaceous, but that would make Jarrod laugh, as in the following: Jarrod: what's up? Joh...nonymous: i feel cactaceous Jarrod: lol Jarrod: lol Jarrod: cac symmetrophilia - the driving force for shaving the proverbial right leg, despite the pangs of homophobia. Not to be confused with sim-metrophilia, which is simulated love of Parisian subways.

My Orange crush

I have come to a rather abstruse, and yet strangely startling, discovery: I cannot find an orange food that I don't really, really like. I love sweet potatoes and pumpkins, persimmons and papaya, squash, all the citruses (tangerines, tangelos, mandarins, clementines, valencia and navel oranges) and their juices, cheese and cheetos and cheez-its and cheddar goldfish, carrots and cantaloupe, orange peppers (bell or spicy) and orange tomatoes (cherry or otherwise (what all kind of crazy orange tomatoes are there anyway besides those cute little pear-shaped ones?)), marmalades and mangoes, lentils and loquats, apricots, Fanta, and Easy Mac. So in the spirit of science, I have my new theory of orange. If it's orange and edible, I like it. And all you critics out there are welcome to try to prove my theory wrong, and I will credit the improbable individual who is able to debunk this conjecture. OK it's true that orange fruit loops and orange marshmallows exist, but this is unnatural. By unnatural, I mean that they are merely dyed, and still taste of nothing but gross and sugar. It is furthermore unnatural that anyone should like marshmallows or fruit loops, because they really are nothing but gross and sugar. And though tigers are orange, their edible bits are not. Also, I'm sure if science tried hard enough they could make eggplant orange, and then my orange crush rule (or as I like to call it, my OC rule) wouldn't apply.

I'm Mr. Manager

The funny thing about sports is that it's so momentary, so fleeting. Well, many things fleet, but with sports I find it especially pronounced. Especially at the Olympics. After a 200 week reprieve, I'm once again supposed to be interested in Herman Maier and Apolo (what a cool name) Ohno, which wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't also required to be magically caught up with all the gossip airborne produce (that snowboarder) and people getting in trouble for being drunk on the job (Bode Miller). And then there are the fanatics who sling names and event names with total abandon, like we're at the batting cages or something. If we were at the Olympic batting cages, I'd be chillin with the 50 MPH chain-link fences; I would not pretend to be facing Randy Johnson or even Jamie Moyer. I mean, and seriously now, have we heard any of these names (besides Michelle Kwan) in the past four years? And how many of these athletes have been here in the past? How many of these events have been here in the past? And why don't they show more hockey instead of so much of that crazy ski thing that's moguls and jumps and 26 seconds long? While I'm at it, how does one go about getting on the Olympic committee so I can get my awesome sports snowboating and skyboating in the lineup? Also, do we only get new Olympic music when the US holds the games? I think the hosting country should be responsible for getting one of its premiere composers to treat us to some new tunes. I'm not trying to pick on the Olympics here. I have these same difficulties with March Madness and World Volleyball Championships and UEFA Champions League (apart from most of Arsenal and Manchester United and then the superstars that are sprinkled and clumped throughout the other teams). Vote Wright and Wuchenich (even though the only few people with AUSA voting (w)rights that will reading this are either named Wuchenich or are living/have lived with the candidate). And at the risk of causing Paul more myspace trouble, Down with Gaymo! PS Danielle, I think I've found you a good campaign slogan. PPS If you're an administator at Andrews, I'm just kidding, and please stop reading here. PPPS Danielle, I still like the slogan, though you could modify it to be Down with Gaymo and Gaydministrators. PPPPS If any FOX executives happen to be reading this, please know this: in vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love Arrested Development. (P^5)*S My apologies to any (......others......) who just melt at this line from Mr Darcy. But it is a good line, and I've yet to find a situation where it might be better applied. Yes, I do realize tomorrow is V Day.

Things fall apart

Two thin envelopes (Stanford and Dartmouth), one phone call to the admissions guy at Yale, three days, zero showers, zero changes of clothes, some hours of shoveling gravel and moving it in a wheelbarrow, many hours of Pieces and the Real Folk Blues and the like, twelve chapters of Pride and Prejudice, two episodes of Mandy Moore Scrubs, and one berry pie later I gave up my giving up. I'm just not a very good quitter. A very capricious part of me wants to tell all those affirmative action loving bastards to (family guy allusion alert!) go tuck yourselves in and then i would run to the mountains or Canada and read great literature and write music and poetry and practice trumpet for countless hours and learn to play guitar and dream and work some little job just to get by. But I won't; I'm too devoted. Or just not desperate enough. Maybe if all the medical schools rejected me I'd go hermit, but now I'm too set on doctorship or doctorhood. And if Loma Linda is the only acceptance I get, Loma Linda is where I'm going. My real struggle with the whole situation came about because I had thought that the things that had happened to me over the last year were going somewhere, were purposeful. I really that I was being set up to be a better applicant so I could get into one of those insanely competitive schools. I mean, really, a diving board accident that makes me want to take the MCAT again? And then i did well on it. And then I'm off to foreign lands to do research and humanitarian work. So I have the grades, the scores, the extracurricular activities, the philanthropic service, and I thought I had a shot. I believed that God or Providence or Whoever or Whatever was guiding all this. This is what I believed Whatever's plan to be. But then something happened. Because I'm still probably going to Loma Linda, and if I was just going to go to Loma Linda, why did Whatever take me to the edge of Canaan only to send me back to wandering the Southern California desert for 4 years. I'd have taken on those giants. I wanted to be one of those giants. But perhaps I haven't explained why this situation is so problematic for me. Allow me to do so now. See, the Whatever I believe in wouldn't tempt and tease me, wouldn't dangle my dreams just out of my reach. Especially when I thought they were within my grasp. My Whatever isn't so cruel. But the situation is cruel. The alternative I then see is that Whatever, in His or Her great benevolence, couldn't have had anything to do with the situation. But this too is unsettling. ALL things are supposed to work for good, so what happened here? "Oh, I'm sorry John, I couldn't do anything with that diving board injury. Yeah, you basically just lost a year. You do know you would have gotten into Loma Linda with your first MCAT score. So yup, sucks to be you. Also, April is a freebie; I've got no plans for you the whole month there, so enjoy. And don't say I never gave you nothing." This wouldn't have been so bad if I at least had some sort of choice and then got to figure out that I was supposed to go to Loma Linda. It's not that Loma Linda is the problem; it's how I'm getting there that bothers me. Ok, this isn't quite fair. I can't suppose to have Whatever's plan all figured out, but at what point do I get to say "Whoa whoa whoa, wait, I don't like this story, I want to change it!" I mean, if Whatever's hand is in it, shouldn't I see traces of said hand sometime? It shouldn't all just look arbitrary. I guess my beliefs lost some of its powers of nomization, because Whatever either has lost some of its goodness, which by definition it can't, or history has lost purpose and significance, which is just as dangerous because absurdity clouds in and I get stuck again in a downpour of existentialism which causes pools of doubt. Maybe it's my job to weather these storms. Maybe it's just a squall. Maybe the sun rays of legitimization are just behind the gray billows overhead. But how long do I sit in this deluge before I leave in search of the sun?

So this is the new year / I don't feel any different

Current mood:distressed

I tried. I really, really did. I thought, "To hell with history and defense mechanisms; let's try a new approach." It wasn't truly a new approach; it was actually an old approach that had never achieved the intended results. So I really did try. I'm not in the habit of trying because I'm in the habit of failing. Failure is much easier to handle if you didn't try at the thing in the first. You dismiss the disappointment as trivial. After all, if it wasn't even important enough to put real effort into, it must not matter. Plus it's not really rejection if you weren't accurately represented. I'm here referring to the med school rejection notes I've been receiving. One is an exception (Mayo—I didn't even get to send in a secondary; I'll still be fine). Two is a coincidence (Stanford—the different schools probably have different admission standards; I should be fine). Three is a trend (Dartmouth—If I can't get an interview at Dartmouth, there's no way I'm getting one with Harvard, Hopkins, or Yale; fuck). Fuck (fuck—fuck; fuck). I should have seen the signs. I should have consulted history. I don't win. Never have. Elections, girls, scholarships, sports—I'm just not all that successful. I'm Peyton Manning. I look good on paper. I have some successes. But I haven't figured out how to win the big game (get accepted to the big school, win the big election, get a big scholarship, get a date or two with the beautiful girl). And I don't think it's that he or I can't win the big game; I don't think that we're psychologically incapable of such a thing, or that we're defeatists, or that we're any less the guys we are just because we're not publicly hailed. I don't know where it goes wrong. I guess I'm just sore because I laid it all out there and got burned badly, though that's not the reason my hand is bleeding. My hand is bleeding because all this upset me so much that I punched the wall hard on my way to my bedroom, which is where I am now, almost as shaken and teary as I was when Brandon Moor died. And I'm not sure which is scarier, my mortality (which is what I came to terms with January 31, 2005) or my failure to be acknowledged. I just feel like I get skipped over time and again, which would normally be OK but it sure isn't when I'm actually trying. Or do they not know that I'm trying? I guess they don't have anything to compare it to. They didn't have the benefit of seeing how I normally conduct myself; how are they to know this is anything special? Still, where did I go wrong? What about me is so unattractive or uninteresting? What makes me "eww, gross" or "ehh, whatever?" I have the grades, the test scores, the humanitarian service, the experience abroad, the wit and wisdom. Would I be noticed if I was from Kazakhstan, or if I was less self-effacing (which shouldn't be confused with a lack of confidence)? I'm not looking for the whole world to love me, just legitimization from certain individuals and institutions that I admire myself. It's not that I mind failing. I'm just tired of it. I'd take any small victory at this point. Beyond mountains, there are mountains. This I know. I just would like to come to a summit that matters every now and then. I'll be fine tomorrow.

Super Bowl post-game smack

Current mood:jubilant

And to think, I was about to write about how Seattle needs to stop whining about the refs because a) they wouldn't even have known to complain if the nfc-biased announcers and commentators hadn't brought it up b) the pass interference was a push-off (or did the receiver just happen to have a hand on the defender, who happened to decide that the best thing he could do would be to hop backwards, away from the ball, just as D-Jack broke for the ball) c) after a suspect holding call on pittsburgh, ward made a superb catch; after a suspect holding call on seattle, hasselbeck threw an int d) the hasselbeck block penalty was a truly bad call, but nonconsequential, as the randle el td pass would have worked whether they had 40 yards or 80 yards to go. was it a good game? no, not like the past few super bowls have been. seattle made one big play, and the steelers made three, and neither side was consistent enough to have anything else really matter. also, seattle's coaching was pretty much crap. they completely mismanaged the clock at the end of both halves. they tried for too many long field goals. they opted to pass 50 times instead of handing off more to alexander who was running just fine on that left side. pittsburgh had better coaching. offense: ben couldn't throw, so they let someone else try (result: td). defense: seattle may have gotten a nice pile of yards and TOP, but when they're 5 of 17 on 3rd down and their only td came off a 76 yard int return, well this is the time when you remind yourself that this isn't fantasy football, and yards and catches and 40-49 yd field goals aren't worth extra points. All that said, I was mostly impressed with Hasselbeck, Alexander, and the Seahawk's O-line. They have a better chance at being back in the big game next year than Pittsburgh does. And yes, that's something of a cut on the NFC, but that's also a lot of respecting. Or at least as much respect as I'll give 11 point losers. oh, and don't talk to me about injuries, because if you'd seen the way Polumalu had played in any of the other playoff games, you'd know he wasn't nearly 100 percent.