Saturday, February 25, 2012

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A Plea.

Trickster told me to start the blog, I did. He told me to ask for reader stories, I did. He told me to post often, I do. I have been a faithful lackey and followed aaaaall of his directions....

And yet... he still keeps picking on me.

I know why it is. There is only one cause of such a thing. The blog must be kept up, and the posts must keep coming...

And no one is sending me material.... and it has to come from somewhere....

Therefore, until I start getting new submission again, Trickster is going to continue to pick on me so that I have something to write about. Isn't he a kind master?

I have only had one reader submission to date. The only conclusion I can reach is that people just aren't experiencing the Trickster.

Because, let's face it... if people HAD Trickster tales to share, they wouldn't just leave me to bear all the responsibility myself. Right?


So, if on the off-chance you HAVE had a brush with the Trickster, and are simply too shy to share... please, I beg of you, send it to me! Dig deep! Spare me! Save me!

Because if you don't, more crap like what's to follow will continue to reign down upon me....

The Scene:

5:15 AM yesterday morning. I awake naturally.

This is not unusual - I often wake at this ungodly hour. Something about being a biological (though definitely not mental) morning person or whatnot.


I realized I had a whole big ton [yes, a big ton - significantly bigger than just a regular ol' ton] of stuff to do today, so I decided to stay up and get started.

I had it all planned out: Be done with homework by 5:45, shower at 6:00, be ready to leave and proctor my friend's class at 9:00.

I stayed up. I read my class material. I showered. I did all of these things....

... and then fell back asleep.

I awoke (for the second time that day) about 15 minutes after I was supposed to be at my friend's classroom.

After much rushing, cursing, throwing things, swearing, fumbling, and articulating my displeasure in colorful terms... I made it to the classroom.

Not surprisingly, all the little children had left already.

More tears. More curses. More wishing there was someone else to have Trickster pick on them.

Telling her was the worst part.

Because I was too much of a wuss to call, I texted her instead.

She texted back: "Call if ya can".

Well, THAT certainly did a lot of good.

So I call her.

And she is an angel. She tells me not to worry about it, things happen, we're still friends [at that point I don't think I broke into tears, but don't quote me on it].

However, the next day [and I deserved this] I was peppered with jokes about punctuality and the ENTIRE department now knows the story of how I botched the assignment. Including my favorite professor [whom I have been pestering for several years now about... well... everything].

While it's all in good fun, and I'm enjoying the laughs at my expense [Lord knows I've made fun of enough people to justify it]... I'm not sure I will be able to hold up under another Trickster beating.

So, you see, if you enjoy this blog and would like to see it continue... please get me some material to work with...

... or at least send me a damned alarm clock.


Thursday, February 16, 2012

Let's be Honest with Each Other...

The Scene:

11:00 PM, yesterday evening. I'm finished with an assignment that I'm fairly confident about, I've studied for an exam that I have to take in my second class, and I'm feeling very rested as I curl up beneath my covers and drift into a peaceful sleep.

The Trickster smiled on me as I slumbered... with a certain maniacal glee that could only mean one thing.

Tomorrow was going to suck.

My alarm went off at 6:00 AM, and I awoke feeling refreshed. So refreshed, in fact, that rather than hit the snooze, I turned the alarm off and began getting out of bed. I foolishly reached for my spectacles.

[Foolishly? What foolishly, you ask? How can one foolishly reach for one's spectacles? Perhaps this isn't fair. Perhaps I foolishly leave my spectacles on the other side of my bed, so in reaching for them, I happen to stretch out across my bed... foolishly.]

Yeah, I fell back asleep. I intended to leave the house at 6:50. I woke up at 6:51.

I was out the door at 6:59:47 [Oh yeah, I was counting seconds at that point]

Anyway, I made it to class on time, so I felt somewhat better.

This feeling dissipated very quickly after my first class.

My major exam, in short, was a fail. Hardly a damn thing we studied was on the actual test, and the two questions we were required to answer did not fall into the realm of the "damn things we studied".

I started crying.

Yeah, not pretty.

After that, though, I recovered fairly well. I remembered more than I thought I did, and I was able to make at least a solid, passing grade [I can hope, anyways...]

And then I reached the final question.

I had no clue. None at all. A question worth a fourth of my major exam grade, and I have no idea.

Frantically, I search my brain for anything remotely resembling an answer.

I come up blank.

In a moment of desperation, my pen is poised to press onto the paper the most eloquent, vague, and impressive sounding garbage I can muster.

However, at the last minute, I stop.

Considering the fact that this professor has had 15+ years of education, 40+ years of teaching, and 60+ years of life experience... I can be fairly confident his hyperbole detector will go off in full force within seconds of eyeing my "Well, it can be said with a fairly certain level of plausibility that..."

This ain't happenin'.

It's Thursday. It's cold outside. We're ALL tired of exams at this point.

So, I wrote the following eulogy:

"The meaning of XYZ eludes my memory. I would make a guess, but I don't want to make you read eloquent BS this close to the weekend"

Feeling liberated, I turned in my exam and picked up my other assignment that he was handing back.

The inscription [next to the insufferably low grade] was as follows:

"You can do much better than this!"



And not a single damn was given.


Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Good on ya, Mate.

Sometimes, we get too caught up in the whole rat race that we lose sight of the things that are truly important. Money isn't the only thing that matters, and this guy seems to have that figured out.

Read about it here: Alex Day Snubs a Record Deal

From one Whovian to another: Good on ya, mate.


Friday, February 10, 2012

Trickster Tag

You know, a lot of times we have to actively look for Trickster's presence - you wouldn't think he'd just put a stamp on an event that says "Trickster was here".


Well... except on occasion. Very rare.


Friday, February 3, 2012

A Truth Universally Acknowledged Pt. 3

There is a problem we all run into in our relationship journeys - a problem I have termed "The Advice Conundrum".

It happens to all of us. We are so completely twitterpated, terrified, transfixed, and turned around that we don't know which way is up.

So we end up having advice [solicited or not] heaped upon us from all of our friends, coworkers, parents, siblings, grandparents, pastors, teachers... you get the idea.

This would be a wonderful help... if people didn't invariably give conflicting advice.

"You should ask him out!"... "You should let him come to you"... "Guys are dense, they don't know when a girl likes them!"... "If he's interested enough, he'll make it his business to know if you're available or not"

And so forth, and so on.

This overflow of paradoxical ideas makes following advice hard to do, whether we wish to or not.

So what's the cure? Well, since you clearly can't listen to everyone... ignore them all.

Granted, some things are obvious and should not be ignored: don't be overeager, don't be too closed off, don't paint a huge sign saying "I LOVE YOU GEORGE" and hang it on your front door.

But these are things you can already guess at and are probably trying to do; but they are also hard to gauge [especially that last one; I never know whether to use pink or purple paint...]

Best advice I can give [because that's not ironic at all] is to be sensible, get to know the guy, and if you feel like you want to know what's going on... ask him.

Claim you are confused [which is almost always the absolute truth], and ask for clarification. Ask him if he has any sort of interest in you. If he's worth having, he'll give you an answer.

Last bit of advice... be prepared for that answer to be "No".