Bad-DASS-ery.

So I did some legitimate mountain biking today because the cool kids built some sand jumps in the woods at Hammonasset.

So basically, I'm flying over these jumps on my dad's bum-busting bike [which is blue, in case a fourth B was necessary there] and I'm thinking, Wow, Hey, World, I Feel Pretty Cool. But you know, I looked pretty freaking silly.

There are probably more times in life than we realise where we feel pretty durn overconfident, pretty, well, AWESOME, and really, we look positively ridiculous.

Badassery is a thing of the past. I think it died with Paul Newman.

I could never even eat one egg, never mind fifty.

domestication anxiety.

So I just spent the past two hours or so baking snickerdoodles for some people that I like. I know, I'm pretty awesome.

But here's the deal: For some reason, this activity that started out pretty relaxing and confidence-building, all that goody-goodness, eventually just started making me really anxious. Mostly over whether or not they were done cos, well, it seems like they're either underdone or overdone and neither of those are good things! GARR.

I maybe need to find something equally adorably domestic without the anxiety side effects. Not likely. I'm a mess of a person. But srsly, the cookies are delicious.

I'm really not a fan of a bunch of shows on Adult Swim, again. It was fantastic when they ridded the airwaves of all that anime poo, it was great for a while, but alas. Superjail is finally starting to maybe grow on me, but Drinky Crow still makes me nervous inside. The neat thing about all these newish shows is listening for all the familiar voices. Right? RIGHT? Come on, David Wain, love it.

I actually haven't been watching much TV at all. Huh.

Countdown to return to London: 1 month, 2 weeks aka A month and a half. YES.

smells 'n sensations.

It drives me absolutely crazy when my roommates cook something. It always smells so good, but it's not for me. Even though I'm sure they'd share in a heartbeat because they truly are sweethearts - Proof that your best friends aren't always good roommates and your roommate doesn't have to be your best friend to be an ideal roommate. Anyway, it smells like home, which weirds me out because this apartment, lovely as it is, is kind of just the place I shower, sometimes hang out, and y'know, occasionally sleep. Home is a strange concept to me as of the past couple of years.

Connecticut is my birthplace and home of my youth.

England is where I belong, always have, always will.

Founders Brook is the only residence I've had over the past three years that actually felt like home to me.

And right now, I seem to be back at that "Where am I" caught inbetween a million places sitch-ee-ation I was at last summer. I should carry a suitcase with all my important life necessities in it everywhere I go. It would be a quirk.

Anyway, I basically just performed surgery on my finger to retrieve the most badass splinter ever seen that I got yesterday as I semi-gallantly tossed a two-by-four onto a shelf. Srsly, this thing was huge and it went so deep, I couldn't see it at all anymore - Just slightly felt it when I ran my finger over it. Well, it took a safety pin, some tweezers, a pair of little thread scissors and a whole lot of squeezing, but I got it out, or at least most of it. That's good.

The play I'm currently SMing has been in rehearsal for over a week and it definitely doesn't feel like it. I think maybe we need to get in the space, not have all the construction going on, and then it'll feel right. Maybe not. I'm actually thinking it won't feel underway until I'm starting to call the show. Really.

But, srsly, otherwise, summer '09 has commenced with a bang. A really great, really huge bang.

What would you do - With all your POWER.

YeahYeahYeahYeahYeahYeahYeah.

Entry's got nothing to do with the Flaming Lips. Or anything much for that matter.

Just that it really is summer now and probably will be my most joyously isolated one yet. I've come to realise how much I enjoy my lack of a desperation for a social life. When it sits in my lap, I mean, I don't throw it off, but I'm not going to call it up on the phone every day.

One thing I love about living here in the summer is Nantucket Nectar lemonade in my mouth for breakfast.

Today, I bought The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. I'm giving Michael Chabon one more shot. I fell in love with him when I read Werewolves in Their Youth, and he scared me away with The Yiddish Policemen's Union. I've tried getting past page twenty or so in that one multiple times. So, here's another try.

And hopefully I'll not be a horrible person and get a ton of writing done this summer. As I haven't in far too long. My portfolio's stinkingly out of date, at least in the prose section. Lamesauce.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO.

NEW BLOG.

Don't fret, non-existent-readers: This one's not going anywhere any time relatively soon. Just this - Today is the day that is exactly two months away from the day I finally head back to my beloved England. I kept a specifically England-blogging blog last time I was there and shall do so again. But still using Blogger this time. So you can jump the gun as much as me and check it out HERE or just wait for the billions of other reminders when I get ready to switch over to it in July...Or click on the link for the second blog in my profile. WHATEVS.

Who is "You"? No one reads your blog, Steve.

Whatever. I like me.

bam.

It's pretty amazing how disgusting, un-sexy, and just plain perpetually irritated you feel simply by having your nose stuffed up.
Nasal passages, I've overlooked your importance to my everyday life!

You Know You May Be a Miserable Cynic When.

Everything's really going quite wonderfully besides the feeling Monolicious again. And yet, despite the semester ending, summer beginning, all I can harp on are all the negatives and though I have my extreme moments of positivity, I am undoubtedly a miserable grump to be around right now and who wants that on a sunny day, huh?

Srsly. Feeling inconvenienced by the free sofa situation [yeah, it's awesome, but I'm the one who has to move them a million times before we actually get them permanently in the apartment at the end of August. Once again, somehow something for multiple people becomes my responsibility, and me and my family are the ones put out. I wouldn't mind that much, but I do not doubt that my mother will make me feel tragically awful about it].

And I could be loading my car and hitting the road right now, but, y'know, waiting to move the sofas.

Mostly, I guess I'm irritated about the sofas.

But I also hate the way people drive, and how there is mysterious splatter of two-day old vomit outside our door, inexplicably still not cleaned up, making me anxious about the whole moving heavy objects through the doorway activity that is soon to happen.

Simply loathing college students and college lifestyle in general. Beer got poured on my shoes the other night - That really happens?

Oh, I am extremely annoyed with the housing system, per usual. I have free housing for the summer because I'm on scholarship for my department, which is awesome because I'll be making money rather than spending it. The problem comes in when this must happen: I have to move everything I own into this apartment a few yards away - Everything must leave this one even though I'm coming back to it at the end of August - Move everything out of the summer apartment halfway through July when I leave for England, move everything back into this one at the end of August when I return for the fall semester. Big chubsy ubsy pain in the arse. I shall not cease to complain about it.

I cannot spitefully spit enough remarks about how badly I want to get my own place far off campus - Back over the bridge where I miss living - Away from people, away from smelly cats and dirty dishes, away from campus, on my own, where I don't have to juggle all of my heavy, awkward belongings every few months at Housing's every wish. HUMPH. I should've gone to state school and lived with the parents. Apparently that's all the rage these days.

Economy in the modern world makes leeching off parents wicked hip.

Part of me keeps getting real excited for next week - Summer, nothing but work work work and fun fun fun in the sun sun sun!

And yet, I'm a grumpy grumps right now who should probably go sit in the rocker with a glass of whiskey and tell the kids how much they disappoint me.

That's pretty much what I do. If I only had the rocker. But I could use those sofas.

narrative structure & no use of quotes [take that].

I am currently two pages and one 9am walk to my Film Adaptation professor's office away from being finished with this semester. It's a good thing.

But I'm kind of at the point where Microsoft Word is all I know and page counts nourish me and margin sizes tempt me and I'm apparently addicted to the words "emotion," "narrative," "film," "audience," and "plot." So this is academia.

A whole Honey Bunches of Addiction.