It has come to my attention that I both consciously and subconsciously seek out women of the pedagogical orientation. No, Matt, that doesnt mean they lick feet (well, not all of them anyway). Somehow, the stars crossed just as the first bell rang on the day I was born, and my fate was set. Am I making mountains out of mole hills? You be the judge. I would say, with relative certainty, that 95% of the women I've been interested in, dating, or otherwise involved with have been teachers or teachers in training. I could be more specific, but it would only prove to be redundant. Somehow, somewhere along the line, a particular synapse fried in my brain. By the time the smoke cleared, I was investing in apples and school supplies, and was lost forever. It seems I'm destined to contend with midterms for quality time. When I bring this point up to any of these women, they just giggle at me and say "well, duh...".

Well, duh?

WTF kind of cryptic statement is that? Their eyes say it all- someone has set me up. The entire situation only serves to reenforce my belief that girls are pulled aside at a young age and enlightened with secrets we tripods are not privy to. Am I meant to simply accept that I'll never understand why my fate is so clear to them and shut up? Well, I have enough of my mother's genetic code to be familiar, if not comfortable, with the fact that the answer to that question is a resounding "Yes." More precisely, a muted yet powerful "yes dear, now be quiet." A statement that, if the roles were reversed, would garner me a swift shot to the stones, somehow becomes acceptable coming out of such an angelic face. Who knows. I guess I'll just continue to wallow in my plebian ignorance until the next homework assignment comes along.

which Episode II character are you?



Probably the greatest Jedi Knight of all. Like Obi Wan, you are wise and keep your feet on the ground at all times. You will not be outsmarted by anyone. You are always faithful to your friends. Be careful though, danger lurks around every corner - you could even be betrayed by those closest to you.

First off, I had to take the flavor test, so here are the results:

I taste like Bread. I am a staple in almost everyone's diet. Friends like me are a complement to any other friends I get on with almost everyone, remaining mostly in the background, but providing substance when it would otherwise be lacking. What Flavour Are You?

I think that results like that are what the experts call a "double-edged sword". But I like bread, so I cant complain. I've been gearing up around here for the great migration, and things are progressing nicely. Today I have to call our current "landlord" to ensure that we can move out on saturday rather than friday. Friday is the final walkthrough, and we should at that time get the keys. Which means that friday night I'll be shuttling loads of small stuff back and forth in my car, then coming home and making sure the old place is spotless. Saturday morning I have to pick up the U-Haul truck, and I hope we only have to make one or two trips to get everything. The good news is, by this time next week, I'll me moved in to the new place and this whole ugly ordeal can be forgotten for another year at least. BTW- anyone who wants to fly out to DC for the 4th of July party that is being planned is more than welcome. I hear there might be Georgia coeds there... for those of you that such a thing would interest.

My dad finally developed and posted to the web the pictures from the Canada trip, and they can be viewed here. Just remember, the reason I look like the michelin man (big body, tiny head) has more to do with how many layers of clothes I had on than anything else. Well.... mostly... I do need to kick my ass back into shape.

Which leads to my next blurb. My buddy Pete is coming up for the summer, and has been given permission to "correct my laziness". By the end of the summer, I'm gonna be a different goon. New and improved. This could lead me to discussion of running, where and where not to run, and then to the Leavy case, but I think I'll quit while I'm ahead.

When I left DC on the 17th, I had no place to live, was completely burnt out, and was not far from snapping.

You would be surprised what a week away from everything can do for your mental well being.

When I returned on Saturday evening, I had a house, a better mental perspective, and replenished emotional reserves. Things dont normally work out so well for me, so please forgive me if I bask a little while. Now back to bidness.

Canada was amazing. Contained in its borders are a natural majesty unlike I'd seen before, and it reminded me of home. I would ramble on ad nauseum, but I have to have subject matter for the posts over this week, so I'll stop here. Which reminds me, as of this week, I start my new position as the enforcement coordinator. Has a more sinister ring to it, non? Anyhow, this means that the majority of my time will be spent outside and away from my computer. But dont worry, I will be checking in every day, and am not disappearing. My relationship with all of you is too important to me to not keep in touch as much as possible.

I suppose I should go enjoy my Memorial Day, and I hope you all are doing the same. It's good to be back.

I am now officially on vacation until the 25th. I wish I could say that I dont have any worries, but alas my plate is not exactly clean. We have yet to hear about the house, though the realtor promises a final answer by tomorrow. This means that as I begin my week long Canadian invasion, the future of my housing situation hangs in the balance. It also means that my roomates, God love them, will have to go through the motions of renegotiating and resigning the lease at our current location should this house fall through at the last minute. If you're religious folk, drop them a prayer. I dont envy that task.

I spent the majority of today, when I had planned to be finishing up some projects in the office and getting my fill of chatting with you fine people, outside repairing jammed parking meters. Let me tell you, this sort of menial labor is exactly what you dont want to be doing in a shirt and tie under the blazing sun of an 85 degree day. You should have seen my walking back in to the office after finishing the repairs. I looked like a had been crawling around in the dirt and participating in a grease gun fight with some angry howler monkeys. I use howler monkeys in this situation because, as you all know, they have a penchant for grease gun antics. It was the third day in a row that I missed lunch, and I can say with relative certainty that I think that sucks ass.

But all is done now. Tomorrow at noon I fly out of DC for the great white north. Take care all, and I will chat at you again when I return.

My friend at work asked me about a particular piece of classical music that I was listening to, and before I knew it I had turned a simple answer into a lengthy analysis of the style and period the music. The other surprising part is that she, and others, have not seemed to be bored with my mini lectures. So I thought I might jot down some of my favorites. Maybe you guys will like them too.

"St Matthew's Passion" JS Bach: arguably my favorite piece. Pay particular attention to a chorale towards the end called 'When I Too am Departing'. Me and the other band geeks rearranged this section into a 2/4 funeral march. I think it was intended, somehow, to be heard in that fashion.

"Adagio for Strings" S Barber: if you've seen the movie Platoon, this is the classical piece they play during the final poignant scene. Like the Passion, this one is kind of lamenting and brooding, but the sweeping melody and the interplay between the violins and cellos is brilliant.

"Peter and the Wolf" S Prokoviev: no doubt you've all heard this one, but the way the instruments are used to create voice, movement, and emotion is just plain cool.

"Nocturne No. 8 in D Flat Major" F Chopin: It's a nocturne, so its a piano with basic accompanyment. But the 8th note/quarter note bridges (dum-da-dum, dum dum dum-da-dum) are really cool.

"Canon in D" J Pachelbel: a classic, and the basis of the chord progression of most modern songs. Listen and try to pick out all the individual parts, there should be 5. This is easier to do with a brass arrangement, but the strings give the entire piece a whole new feel.

"Fanfare for the Common Man" A Copeland: If you've seen the beef commercial, or any of a number of movies about the westward expansion in the 1800's, then you;ve heard this tune. Well, the beef commercial is actually a piece by Copeland called "Rodeo", but its in the same suite.

Ok, those are some to start with. If you like those, then we can start into Handel, Haydn, and Rimsky-Korsakov (aka- lazy, phasy, and crazy).

It always surprises me when inspiration hits. Some people would say it’s like lightning. Lots of rumbling before hand, and with a sudden violent flash, you find the words, or the theme, or the rhyme that you were searching for. For me, it’s not so grand a situation. Inspiration comes to me like a feeling of déjà vu. I’ll be doing something else, and without warning, the hair on the back of my neck will start to tingle. I’ll look out the window, or hear a certain song, or a long recognizable fragrance will waft past me, and suddenly I’m transported to a place where all the words flow with ease. Where the ideas stop buzzing, and seem to settle into place, allowing me to see their color and texture that has been blurred in my normal conscious mind. And then the writing begins, and it runs and runs and runs.

And then the fucking phone rings, and the song ends, and the asinine questions return. Like an all too brief out of body experience. It’s the lull that brings me inspiration; the lightning is what brings me back.

I guess all my ranting about momo's on campus has had an effect on someone. He may be peddling rock and women of ill repute, but Matt has seen the light. I'd love to tell you all about the new housing developments, but I just heard over the radio that we have a suicide situation in progress. Gotta love fridays.

Today has been an interesting day in the house hunt. Last night, we looked at a small 4 bedroom that seemed to fit our needs and price range. This morning, we discovered there were already two other bids on the place, and we had only a short time to put our hat in the ring. Even with some masterful coordinating on everyones part, we didnt make the deadline, and were once again kicked face-first down the long chute back to square one. At this point, we had finally tapped all of our energy, and had resigned ourselves to splitting into smaller groups and letting go of the idea of all living together. In a considerate gesture, we called the realtor who has been helping us to thank her for everything.

But Jenny said "Hold fast, intrepid homesteaders! The fight is not yet past!"

It seems that when she sensed we were giving up, and saw her commission check disappearing like Marty's siblings in that picture he carried in "Back to the Future", she suddenly announced that the rent in the first house was more negotiable than we were lead to believe. In specific, the asking price could be $2200/month, as opposed to the $2900/month figure we were first given. Suddenly, the lack of a 5th full time roomate wasn't so great an obstacle. Like a Zen master, we became as water moving around rocks, and switched back to the first house without hesitation.

So the rental applications and application fees are submitted. The deposit check in the amount of $2200 will be submitted this evening. And from that point, we wait for a decision. Am I excited- of course. Am I still aggressively looking for a place if and when this deal follows pattern and falls through- you bet your sweet ass I am.

Murphy's Laws of Combat state that "no plan survives the first contact, intact." This is common knowledge that I should be cognizant of at all times. Last night, this became evermore apparent. As you all probably know, I've spent the last month and some searching for a new place to live. Finally, last week, we found a house that worked for all parties involved. We spent the weekend trying to find the means to make the security deposit, and things were progressing smoothly. I was just starting to venture a breath of relief when the first explosion happened, so to speak. One of our roomates announced last night that he was moving out on his own. He cited that his job requires him to work from home, and found that living in a big group "stressed him out". Apparently, after he gave me the realtors phone number yesterday, and we talked about what needed to be done this week, he went out and filled an application somewhere else. So now this is where I (we) stand:

We have to find a replacement roomate who has first and last months rent totalling $1200, or find a way to come up with an additional $600 between the remaining 4 people to cover Benedicts share of the deposit. And this all needs to be done by Friday, if we want to get a bid in before the house goes listing goes public, and the market value for rent increases by nearly 50%.

Or, we have 7 business days to find, negotiate, and close something else before I leave for Canada.

Or, we can attempt to resign the lease where we are now, and shift rooms around to accommodate 6 for the summer, and 5 for the rest of the year. A plan that I think has merit, but doesnt really jive with everyone elses wishes.

I know you'll forgive me if I'm not cheery or present very much. I'm just struggling to keep an even keel.

cptgen: so I gave him a call, asked him what the fuck he was doing, told him to stop this foolishness, and submit to my rule

asmyth82: never a dull moment for you huh?

cptgen: I am the button

asmyth82: really? I am the walrus

asmyth82: Koo Koo Kachoo

My first post this morning flowed so nicely, that it seems the flood gates have given way to a series of other rants in my head. Some may be repetitive, but still poignant.

No matter what the campus paper says, I dont lie to students and staff simply to take pleasure in luring them into a trap. They stumble into my traps without me needing to do much more than wait. So when I tell someone that they wont need a parking permit in a certain lot on a certain day, there is really no need to ask me if I'm sure. Now, I know that you fancy yourself street smart, and this must serve you well when deciding wether to shotgun the mystery punch before or after you accept a back rub from "that nice guy at the frat party passing out asprin". But please attempt to direct your paranoia where its needed most- the student accounts office. If anyone is out to get you, its them. Like Golem, all the money that moves through that place has transformed the employees into shriveled up ghouls bent on making you suffer. On the other hand, the only thing that my job has transformed me into is someone that doesnt like to be fucking questioned. Please refrain from doing so in the future, and you will enjoy your stay on campus.

Oh, and girls- stop showering in perfume and caking on make up to disguise the fact that you've been drinking all night. Take a shower, have a coke and some aspirin, and stop with the camoflage. It only makes you look cheap.

And guys- one word: humility. Try a little from time to time. All you're gonna get by acting cocky is low class dance club dregs (see above) and the reputation for being a worthless thug (see below post to find out how I deal with thugs).

Ok. Thats all for now. I'm sure something else will piss me off later in the day, and I'll have more to write about.

Well, I think the dawn may soon break on my long stormy evening of house hunting. My roomates and I looked at a house on sunday that would comfortably fit all of us and was within the limits of our price range. Coming up with my share of the security deposit required selling my soul to the Bank of Grandma, but at least I have the money now. Its an old three story victorian in a quiet, tree lined slightly afluent neighborhood, complete with two car garage and patio. The old woman that lived there has recently died, and her New York bound daughter is looking for renters willing to help with the upkeep of the place. This should give us the smallest bit of leverage in rent negotiation, but not very much I'm afraid. The house could easily rent for over $3500 a month, she's asking for $2900, were countering with $2700, and hoping for $2800. In the end, my experiment in moving to find a cheaper place to live isnt going to succeed. However, this house in is Chevy Chase, MD (10 minute drive from work), and where we are now is in Rockville, MD (45 minute drive from work), so perhaps the gas savings will balance things out. Everybody keep your fingers crossed- I'm getting tired of looking for new places, and time is drawing short.

In other news- I saw "Duces Wild" over the weekend, rather than waiting in lines for "Spiderman". I believe now that the line would have been more entertaining. If you hate goomba New York street thugs, and want yet another reason to bash their illiterate broken logic brains in, I suggest going to see this movie. God I hate that persona. You know the one that I'm talking about. They take some dock worker, slap a St. Anthony's medal around his neck, give him a baseball bat or a tire iron and tell him to watch a street corner. It's like how George would let Lenny watch the chickens. And rather than just sitting there making incoherent grunts to his pals, he decides he's gonna become some kind of goomba warrior poet, and starts spouting out trite threats and smatterings about honor in Luca Brazi style "english as a second language" pronunciation. This is usually a result of becoming smitten with some rival gang leader's trampy little sister; the slightly less wilted flowering weed in the ghetto garden. All this happens, of course, while still battering the skulls of the other gang, which is always composed of one or more minority groups and lead by some little weasle named "knife" or "vinnie". Every time I see a group of these people, I just want to walk over, line them all up, and do a three stooges group slap. That thug persona gives goons everywhere a bad name.

What else- I think I've decided that the next woman I date needs to be a teacher. No Matt, not an aerobics instructor (well... hold on... maybe I'm being too picky), but a liscensed educator. I'm sure this has some deep rooted psychological explanation, but honestly I dont mind all that much. Something about it seems to jive in my head, and the thought of partially graded papers strewn haphazardly across the floor makes me giddy.

I talked with our fearless leader last week about the status of our hack and slash whine fest (aka DnD), and was told "one more week." That would be today, but I havent received anything telling me of the hefty bounty of xp I no doubt received after single handedly giving the wicked-fast Ginsu action to that hobgoblin raiding party, rescuing and successfully wooing the King's daughter, Princess Cookie, and restoring peace and prosperity to the war torn isles of whatever war torn isle I was on. I'll log on this evening, hopefully to find all my comrades. If not, I'll just have to split the xp one way for another week.

Bound together, the two descended deeper into the darkness.
Cold and without direction, and shielded only by their intelligence,
They struggled feverishly to outrun the encroaching terror.
But Anubis had no hold of him,
Poseidon had no leash on him,
and Barchiel could only watch as the knot started to unravel.

Recently, we replaced all the computers in my office with brand new Dell's. Hopefully, they should be able to better manage the various databases we have to run. The problem now is that everyone has speakers. In a confined space, this means that its a constant battle of the bands. My boss listens to jazz, which is cool. I can handle that. It flows well with the playlist audible on my side of the office. But the shuttle supervisor is slightly religious.... just slightly.... and all day long he's pumping fire and brimstone sermons, spirituals, and gospel. I suppose if he has to listen to my stuff, I should listen to his and just shut up. But come on. There must be a common solution.

I suggested the Church of Buffett (Orthodox).... he just looked at me with that "I must save this poor soul" face. I better watch my back.

cptgen: its been a long week already, and the urge to snap on somebody is growing

BigSexyRoleModel: bury your feelings deep down, for they may be used to serve the dark side

cptgen: nothing buries dark side feelings like the beer I'm going to buy on the way home

cptgen: and you wonder why obi wan was always in the bar....

BigSexyRoleModel: now the student becomes the master

cptgen: the circle is now complete