Sometimes while I’m listening to tunage I suddenly think to myself, “gee, why don’t you, instead of listening to other peoples songs, go make your own.” and then I tell myself, “hey dick, its not that easy, why don’t you keep your stupid comments to yourself!”. Than I remember that—seeing as how the whole convo is in my own head, I have been keeping those comments to myself all along.
But the little voice in my head is right. I should just go make my own tunes. Curse him.
It really isn’t as easy as it sounds. Although it doesn’t sound like anything because I haven’t made any music yet. Poor Pathetic Me
Is salad really only for wimps? If so, am I a wimp? What does it even mean to be a wimp? Are there various kinds of wimps? Perhaps a hierarchy of wimpiness?. I would assume that because eating salad is what constitutes wimpdom, then the hierarchy is established based on the amount of salad that said Wimp consumes. I, having eaten very few salads in my lifetime, would then most likely rest at the lowest rung of this pyramid of wimp.
But wait! My salad had chicken in it! Doth that exclude me from wimp society!?!?
I can only hope so…
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had knowledge of all the things that people talk about. I know that it’s impossible for a man to have infinite wisdom and sagacity, but maybe if I did then things would be more interesting. Take for example an exchange that I had today with some guy outside one of my classrooms. He was talking about how magnificent monolithic structures are and whether or not I had ever experienced such amazing pieces of natural majesty. Not wanting to look like an ass I said, “Oh yeah I’ve heard of this and I’m sure I’ve seen one at some point.” “Oh god Juan”—my brain said to me—”way to look like a complete dumb ass.” But what else could I have done? I mean, I would have liked to have an engaging conversation with my peer about mono whatever’s, but to be honest I really didn’t know anything about them.
This is why I wish I could know everything there is to know about everything. That way whenever anyone wants to talk to me about whatever, I would be able to have full fledged conversations and look like a bad-ass.
Thinking more completely about this idea of omniscience, I don’t think this would be possible, for then I would be a god—and as we all know—I am definitely no god…
…that is except of thunder!
Til next time
Currently I am sitting at my computer in a plain white shirt and basketball shorts. I sometimes wonder if maybe—while I’m wearing them at least—they shouldn’t be called basketball shorts. I mean, I don’t play basketball and I’ve never played basketball. In all honesty I probably never will set foot on a basketball court. So maybe. at least in my situation, they should be called lounging shorts. This name suits them perfectly! Lounging is what I do best, and these shorts are the only thing I want to wear when I lounge. Lounging shorts! Get em while they’re hot!
I’ve only written a paragraph and my arm already hurts. Yesterday I went to to play racquetball with two Korean internationals. It was intense. They were terrified of the thunderous noise that came with each time I hit the ball. If any adjective ill suits me, it’s probably terrifying. In some circles I’m known as Juan-“Teddy Bear”-Garcia. That’s how lovable and un-terrifying I am.
You know what? That was a lie. I sincerely apologize. It’s just that I didn’t know how else to exemplify how not scary I am. To these Koreans however, I was a god of thunder. Juan-god-of-thunder. Take that Thor.The only thing I’m missing is a mjolnir of my own. Maybe a golden racket, since of course I only make thunder when playing racquetball.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, my arm! It hurt’s like a bitch and a half. Whats that you say? How can you possibly have a bitch and a half. Well dear friend it’s simple. You take 1 whole bitch and divide it neatly into two parts and that is how you get a half a bitch. So in my case it’s a whole bitch and a neatly portioned half of a bitch. That’s my present situation.