Things I Should Have Done In College

Now that I'm "officially' done with college (I was unofficially done about 2 years ago, when I stopped caring), I have the perfect time to reflect on the things I did. After about 5 minutes of that I then realized I didn't do a lot of things.  The following is a list of things wanted to do, but didn't.


1. Updated My Blog More (Specifically About That Trip)

I'll start this off with an admission: a good portion of the reason I'm writing this particular blog post is to try out my new drawing tablet that my amazing friends got me for graduation. Following that admission, I'd like to thank Austin, Christian and Shelly for making me have to draw more.

Maybe now the floating, disembodied heads of my friends will stop haunting me.

Now, I'd like to issue an apology. I'm sorry I said I'd do a blog post about the trip last August and then never made one. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm super lazy. The fact that this post is even up (it is up, right?) is a miracle. Sure I could make excuses like: "I'm too tired" or "I can't draw" or "I have to pass this class so I can graduate," but I know now that this blog is like, super important. For serious.

I resolve now to post at least one long blog post a month, or 2 short ones. If I don't keep up with the posts, I give anyone permission to come to my place of residence and slap me until I make one. Did I mention I'll be living in South Korea for a year?

2. Kept Up With Friends (Or To Not Have Been A Total Social Recluse)

Save for the aforementioned three people and my roommates, I feel like the little social interaction I had over the last year or so has made me somewhat of a hermit. In fact I recall about a month this last summer where both my roommates were gone and "all" my other friends were out of town or busy. Most people would call it June, but I like to call the Garlic Month.

I call it so because I partook of pepperoni and garlic pizza at least once a week and as a result, for the first time I could actually feel how bad I smelled. On top of it all I frequently talked to myself, and, if I didn't have work that day, I would just stay in my pajamas. Had my beard been longer and grayer, I would have been the very model of a stereotypical hermit. Once I even got to yell at some kids for hitting a baseball into our window!

And I also became an olde timey prospector that same month.

Aside from that month, I've kept an acceptable appearance/smell for society. So why do I feel like society is forcing me to be a recluse? Or "reclusing" me, if you will.  Well, the problem isn't society; it's me.  And it's my own stupid fault I can't keep up with friends.  I just get too awkward about calling people.  I'm never sure on the etiquette on calling friends you haven't talked to for awhile. So to avoid all awkwardness, I usually just don't call. That can actually lead to further awkwardness later on. Unfortunately, I've never been a good at thinking ahead. Just ask me anytime after I've fallen for eating some Panda Express again.

3. Found Out What That Noise I Always Heard When Walking Past The Student Center Theater Was

Every single time I walked by it sounded like someone was drilling for about 5 seconds. There was never a time I walked by when I did not hear the sound. It obviously couldn't have been some sort of machinery, so my mind instantly came up with the following scenario: the slowest, most patient heist ever pulled. Slowly drilling into the vault, only turning the drill on for 5 seconds at a time over the course of 4 years and coincidentally only when I walked by. It is the only logical explanation.

My theory doesn't go over as well when I shout it at random passers-by.

4. Chose A Major That I Liked

To those that know me, which is really anyone who reads this blog, it is no secret that I kind of actually hate my major.  Sure, it didn't start out that way. At the beginning I'd feel like a whiz getting the console to output "Hello World" or finally figuring out how a loop worked. Fast forward a few years and I felt like a moron when, for an assignment involving a 3D simulation of a flood in Poudre Valley, all I could do was turn the entire screen blue.  This resulted in me having to repeat that class and put off graduation another semester.

I was barely a decent programmer and what little joy I got from supposedly solving a problem was squashed when I'd get my grades back. So why did I choose computer science? It was all because of a clever ruse pulled by the Computer Science Department.  My freshman year when I was "branching out" I tried loads of things, English, Political Science, Oceanography, more English.  But one class can be attributed to my downfall: CS150.

CS150 was a Java programming class not intended for CS majors. Let me repeat that: it was NOT intended for CS majors so it was not indicative of the course work.  Somewhere in my mind I knew, but I completely ignored it. Instead, I was amazed by the subject matter, silently hoping that this is what programmers got to do.

What was the class about, you say? Shapes, basically. We learned how to draw shapes in Java. It was essentially the preschool equivalent of programming.

Fooled by that class, I signed up for CS160 the next semester. And if I hadn't done that... well my life would be decidedly different, but more to the matter at hand, I wouldn't have number 5 on this list.


5. Been The Better Person (For The Wrong Reasons)

In my CS160 class, I met my future ex-girlfriend. There were things about our relationship that I thought might cause a problem down the line, but I foolishly ignored them. After about 2-ish years, she dumped me in the summer of 2010 for reasons that were never clear to me (and perhaps to her).  I won't lie; I was devastated and I'm still feeling the effects.

Not being stupid or irrational at all.

Dealing with an extremely damaged ego and going to therapy for a year made me come to terms with a lot of personal problems.  Yet, no matter how much I pushed through the tough times, there was always one thing I just felt like I had to do. It was the one thing I wanted to do more than anything, but never got the chance:  to get the most polite revenge ever.

I played it out in my mind. I'd see her one last time, we'd have awkward eye contact, and I'd say, as genuinely as I could, "Hey. Take care of yourself." Then just walk away. No time for her to respond. Just leave. At that point the camera would slowly zoom out and the credits would roll.

Then my glasses would inexplicably darken and something would explode.

It's silly, I know that it would have been a bad idea, and I'm glad I actually never did do it. She's got her own life now and I wish her all the best (well, most of the best, she did cause me untold amounts of existential turmoil). But I've got my own life to worry about and, with any luck, can still get some revenge by living it. That'll show her!

The Most Awkward of Concerts

My social life at the moment consists of two things: playing video games with people online and playing video games with people in person.  So when a co-worker gave me some free tickets to a concert, I jumped at the opportunity to do something that didn't involve sitting down.  Little did I know, free would be too expensive.

But before I went to the concert, I had to find someone, or someones, to go with.  Since all 5 of my friends were out of town, and imaginary friends don't need a ticket, I concluded that the best people to invite would be my siblings.  My sister and bro-law were "busy" with "work"(pffft whatever), but my brother Ross was somehow available. I silently threw a little party in my head.

The only band on the roster that I liked was Neon Trees, the other three I had never heard or heard of, but I'm not usually one to complain about free things. Usually. 

After some froyo with my bro (yo), we headed to Loveland for the concert. Our first reaction was that of confusion. Were we at the right place? "Thunder Mountain Amphitheater?" We're pretty far from the foothills, so where is this "Thunder Mountain?" And what was supposedly an amphitheater was really just a stage in front of a building, and a hill. No part of the title was particularly true, but I didn't want to nitpick.

When we caught a glimpse of the line out of the front, neither of us was shocked by the length; we were shocked that we'd be the tallest two people in the line. Middle schoolers!



The only exaggeration in this picture is the ponytail.



We'd come too far to back down. With tickets in hand, we strode through the gate, pondering what was in store for us within the "amphitheater."  I often forget that stereotypes actually exist in the real world, but was soon reminded when we saw gaggles of girls and boys living the stereotypes.  Ross and I both commented that we never did that stuff, but probably only out of a sense of smug superiority.

Luckily, we both agreed to sit in the back and make fun of everything.  There's that smugness again. The first three acts came and went, and we could never remember the name of the second guy. Yazflute? Iphone? Something along those lines.  As I was only really there for the Neon Trees, we used  the first three acts for quality time together as brothers.



Quality. Time.



Meanwhile, we commented on the tweens and their "drama," as well as their inability to sit still or watch where they were stepping. Seriously, when I was lying down on the grass, someone stepped on my hair. MY HAIR. It's literally 2 inches long. Their foot was like, right there. Seriously. And then there was this one kid that Ross and I just couldn't determine the gender of! The ambiguity! It haunts me still!  *Ahem* Sorry. I guess those kids got to me more than I'd have liked.

At that point, I started to complain about how "free" was too much of a price to pay for those tickets. Man, I'm hilarious, I thought. Through the course of the evening I was hungry, hot, sweaty, blinded by the sun and, if I'm being honest, a bit of a curmudgeon.  As the sun finally set, Neon Trees was about to get on stage.  Ross, in what was simultaneously the smartest and dumbest idea of the night, suggested we move to the front.

It was smart because we actually could see the band. It was dumb because we were heading into the beast's lair. A beast so awkward and adolescent-y. I knew I wouldn't escape without scuffed shoes and bruised toes, not to mention ruptured ear drums (from the shrieking, not the band).

For what seemed like an eternity, we waited.  My spirits fell. I started thinking about the two worst years of my primary education and the horrors I'd repressed, when suddenly the lights went out. A roar came from the crowd. Well, I say "roar," but it was more like a shrill scream. Something you'd expect from harpies. Then the band started playing.

Instantly, I forgot my surroundings. My brother and I joined the jumping and screaming. Finally, it was like a real concert.  We lost ourselves in the songs, though were periodically brought back to reality because the stupid tweens just could not sit still. On many of the call and response crowd participation moments, Ross and I felt like the only people actually participating, but we had a blast. Ross more than me, probably.

We sadly didn't stick around for the encore, but we both agreed we needed to get out of there before the rush of parents came in to pick up their "darlings." In the end, the fun outweighed the awkwardness.  And really, isn't that what it's all about....? Hmmm.... no.