don't stop believin'

Just two days after a tornado touched down in my parents' backyard, here we are under astoundingly similar conditions tonight. I spent all day in Barnes & Noble reading A History of Violence and Dan Clowes's Pussey!, only to call Julian as I was leaving and learn of this new front descending along the exact same path as on Friday. After a doctor's appointment that day, I was still at my parents' house watching the news when we were warned tornadoes were heading our way. After moving my car out from under the trees and bringing the cat inside, the skies were still blue as my dad and I watched the trees begin to sway. When the clouds turned black in the space of seconds and things began flying up onto the front porch, Dad and I ran into the bathroom to avoid the potential shattering of the bay windows where we had been watching the rain; after about ten seconds of the house creaking and a freight train overhead, we went outside to survey the damage. Every pine tree in our yard and the neighbors' was down, a few of them on the roofs of nearby houses; a main had ruptured across the street and the air was thick with the smell of natural gas. It was totally awesome.

Well, we already seem to be out of the danger zone. As for the rest of this week, I spent the New Year vomiting, sadly not due to alcohol consumption, but the night did start out well: Stacy, Greg, Talea, Allan, Julie, Jeremiah, and I went out to eat at Babette's, a particularly fancy little European restaurant where I ended up paying nothing for my meal, and Stacy and I continued the night at the party going on at my place where, unsurprisingly, dozens of people I didn't know filled every room and, as a result, made me feel even worse than I had already been feeling. I fell asleep (relatively) early, though I was awoken a number of times by drunken idiots stumbling up the stairs of a closed room, one in particular who kept trying to take my pants off as I lay sick in bed. So, New Year's was... memorable, at least. Even with the flu.

Taco Bell's Grilled "Stuft" burrito isn't very good.

The last week or so of December was memorable, as well. I headed to Matt and Brian's for a party that weekend, which was quite a welcome excursion, seeing as how I never see these people who live less than a mile away. I went out with Greg to Mary's one night, karaoked "We Didn't Start the Fire" with John Paul, and drank a little too much. I also went to MJQ for Britpop night, which was also wonderful, and returned this week, surprising myself at how much fun I had with absolutely nothing to drink (though I did tire more quickly).

Tommy Shaw of Styx looks a lot like that guy from Nickelback.

And when did this GPS/Google Maps technology get so advanced on news weather reports? I really have missed out on television these past few years.

Now, I'm quite gracious to have my laptop finally repaired after nearly a year of disuse, one of my first accomplishments with which is a new Megaman ringtone! But perhaps the best news of this week comes with the beginning of this semester tomorrow: I'm not fucking going! After discovering the general unavailability of the classes I need to graduate this semester, I decided instead to take this one off. At this point, it feels like I graduated long ago, and since I've been at State, it's been more "yeah, I'm taking some classes" as opposed to "I'm actually in college," so it doesn't feel like much of a postponement, though I do suppose I'll take those remaining classes in the summer. I'll be devoting this winter and spring instead to writing, reading, and making money.

My wanderlust is stronger than ever. I've spent so long in the same place lately, I need to get away again. Whether visiting Arman some time soon in Houston or leaving it all to be a forest ranger in the Pacific wilderness, something's bound to happen soon. We'll see.