Ok, well, that’s it. It’s turned in. Now, I have two weeks to wait before I know if I’m re-accepted to MSU.

Oh, and I should have an issue of the new Transformers comic, Issue #1, Autobot cover, on its way. *crosses fingers* Unless, of course, I missed while I was being late coming back from lunch.

“What’s the difference between you and a mallard with a cold?”

DISCLAIMER: This is a joke.

Translation of below:

“Good afternoon everyone in alt.rave,

I have just purchased “brainstorm” featuring Sharkey and Mark E G. I’d like
to share my opinions of it with you. I was highly impressed, and found
myself completely enraptured.

I would like to inquire as to weather anyone would venture a suggestion of
other Disc Jockeys that define themselves within the same genre as what has
been mentioned above. If that fails to be a plausible recourse, is there
any way of appropriating these tracks in .mp3 format via a popular
file-sharing utility?

Rattus Norvegicus”

“ratz” wrote in message
news:cpgs8.29943$%3.2722014@news1.calgary.shaw.ca…
> ya
> i jus piked up brainstorm
> w/ sharkey an mark e g
>
> an its jus wicked
>
> i was wonderin if any 1 out there can suggest sum other trancecore djs that
> r easy to find on audiogalaxy or kazaa
>
> ratz

Strange.

I had women rubbing my noggin tonight as we were driving around town. One was a gnome when she put on my knit cap. We swung on swings and played on a merry-go-round. I totally didn’t even start my laundry.

I’ll probably be late to Green Spiral on Wednesday, because I’m eating sushi with and . One was trying to convince the other two of us to go to Pensic this year. This is not the first time I’ve been asked about going. I find myself seriously contemplating it. I now have about three different camps I could crash in.

I’ve gotten so much done this weekend, but the really important thing comes tomorrow on my lunch break. I re-apply to MSU. Any Good Thoughts or whatever are welcomed.

So, last night, after returning home from work and making a nice garlic chicken dinner out of a bag (mmm frozen meal kits), I went to Green Spiral. It was a business meeting, and I really went for company in misery.

Instead, I smiled, laughed, made jokes about air freshener under pressure, and oh yeah, I got nominated for Co-Coordinator for next year. I accepted the nomination.

“Mandy came out of the all-night virt-u-want, clutching a bag of goodies.”

I just finished going through alt.bread.recipies and alt.trucks.chevy. Just a few thousand messages. Looking for binaries. Graphics, to be precise. Found one. Seems the newsgroup server is working up to code, and the customer’s desires are rediculous and are against newsgroup netiquitte.

Right now, I’m heading home to make some eggs. Tomorrow, and I are going to Sindhu for lunch. Nummy.

I haven’t been through this kind of emotion swing since I was a teenager. I’m a bit ashamed at the extreme nature of the emotional responses that just welled forth, whether they wanted to or not, but damn, I got out what I needed to.

The conversation started out as a discussion between my mother and I about irresponsibility, new Shelby Township laws, and the government treating its constituents like children. This had followed a good discussion between myself and my mother about drugs, and the reality of them.

Well, Dad came in and entered the conversation. No big deal, he had some valuable points to add. He and I ended up getting pretty into the discussion, as we always do. Dad and I disagreed on a minor point, which seemed major, only because it was what we disagreed upon. This was evolving (de-evolving?) into an argument. My taking responsibility for my choice of living on the fringe of culture came up. Idealism vs. realism came up. Then, we started talking about making the hard choices. Doing what was right.

I feel I have an excellent track record in this. Heh. It’s a good thing, even if I’m not always sure of it. I brought up the most recent example to my parents. My Dad implied that he thought I didn’t have a right to claim a perfect record in that area. I disputed, saying that in everything that had mattered, I had made the *RIGHT* choice, weather it was hard or easy. Dad disagreed, and I asked for an example.

Switching majors. He said that he thought I’d taken the easy way out because I’d had a difficult time for the first years in college.

*snap*

I disagreed. Emphatically. Dad said, as he had said about something else earlier in the night, “If you just take some time and think about it again, you’ll see that that’s the case.” I disagreed again. “I seriously doubt that I’d come to that conclusion.”

Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure.

I got up, and let them know I didn’t want to discuss this any longer. I was suddenly fifteen again. I couldn’t go to my room, as it isn’t really mine any more, so I went into the bathroom. Slammed the door. Attempted vainly to hold back the tears. That’s right, ladies and gents, I hid myself away in the bathroom and sobbed, because even though I’m a hair away from being an MSU student again and even though I’ve worked off thousands of dollars of debt and even though I’ve taken gut-punch after gut-punch at work and even though I’ve betrayed my best friend TWICE because it was the right thing to do, I had taken the easy way out.

Which isn’t even the case. It may have been the WRONG decision to change majors to something I was interested in, rather than something that would open doors, but it was the DECISION I MADE. And it was NOT the easy way out. It was NOT.

I composed myself, and came out, took a big swig of water, and sat down, ignoring my father completely. In full Crampton male style, he didn’t let the issue lie. I can’t remember what he said, but I responded with, “You know what? It’s fine. It’s good. Because now I’m no longer laboring under the impression that I have your respect.” He said that I had his respect, and started to talk again, and I exploded at him. I told him that then, some of my college career might have been for him. But from this point forward, I assured him, I was not going back to school for him. I was not working off my debt for him. I was doing it for ME, and he had no DAMN right to judge me or my actions. He said that he hadn’t been trying to judge me, and I exploded again. I told him that I’d been busting my ass at work, busting my ass trying to get back into school… tears had already been flowing again, and I burst out into sobs once more.

Welcome back to being fifteen and having no idea how to control your emotions. Especially when the man you want to most impress can’t seem to stop bringing up your faults.

I got a kleenex, and there was more talking… he apologized a lot.. I think… it’s kind of fuzzy. I know we brought up the fact that I was trying to bring them back into my life with writing them regularly by snail mail… so he showed me his TV in the den, which had every single post card I’d written standing up in front of the buttons.

And then my dad hugged me. I utterly collapsed back into sobbing, barely getting out the words “your respect means so much to me…” which I had to repeat for him to understand. He hugged me.

We talked after that. I brought up all the stress that was going on in my life right now, and we talked college, and he kept telling me that all mom and him wanted was to see me happy doing what I want, and if he didn’t help me toward that, he wouldn’t be doing his job. I told him, maybe he should ask what that was before he started helping.

He and I both apologized a few more times to each other, and then he and I talked about inherited depression and financial plans … good lord, how we take comfort in numbers… and I left. I had a bit of a talk with Mom out in the driveway, and thankfully, Joe was not there for this…

Dad wrote me an email, apologizing for ruining my easter visit. I have no idea how to reply.