An exploration into blogosity.

It sucks how quickly your entire blog just disappears when you hit the wrong button during the editing process. Anyway…

Yeah, I know I have written next to nothing in next to forever. I’m working on it. This blog is to help me get back into the rhythm of writing, and you should see better and more frequent stuff later on. My last couple days have been a whirlwind and I thought I should share some of the adventurosity. After tennis Friday, I headed over to Logan’s for a full night of poker. After said gambling, we entertained ourselves with Logan’s video camera, recording things in slo-mo. Highlights included Logan juggling, me catching saltines in my mouth, breaking a glass bottle, Logan’s potato cannon ripping a hole through plywood, and Lance’s sweet bowstaff skills. Pure, unadulterated fun. I got to bed early that morning, and slept a couple hours, so Levi and I could get up and head to our editor’s meeting at eight that morning. Well, the snow had frosted our cars in and we barely got their in time. Seriously, we scraped for like 15 minutes. After the meeting ended at nine, I hurried up to tennis practice from 9:30 to 11:00. I had work at 11, and even though I was a couple minutes late, I worked a solid five hours. I went home at four-thirty just to “rest my eyes” and woke up at one in the morning from hunger. So I made some waffles. And slept until ten. Intense.
Doesn’t it suck when you look forward to something for days, even weeks, and then it just lets you down? In fourth grade, my favorite band came to town for the fair. Now due to its embarrassosity I won’t mention the band by name. However, I will say that this band’s name completes the nickname of boxer Ray Charles Leonard. I had spent a good half an hour on my hair and wore a kickass sleeveless shirt. I was totally ready. My sister had the tickets and away we went. The problem was, even an eleven-year-old can tell when a band sucks live. I distinctly remember wondering if all bands were worse in person, or if this whole time I had liked a crappy band…. The point is, it’s never a good idea to get your hopes up. Not to say you shouldn’t be an optimist, but to paraphrase Peter LaFleur, it’s easiest to meet your goals when you don’t set any.
Also, to dispell the myth that if you go into a situation open-minded you automatically have a good time:
Little Guy Football sucked for me. My first year of “C” squad only emphasized how under-sized I was, and the pounded I received physically was second only to the pounding I received at how my jersey read “WA KS” after the “L” fell off. I determined that my second was going to be awesome, though. Why? Because I hadn’t grown. Surely I would stay in “C” squad while my bigger, more violent friends moved up a squad. But, nope. I somehow made the “B” cut, despite my pleadings to get remeasured. The next year was significant similar to the first. So take that, fathers and grandfathers (not mine) who tell their kids “oh it’s only what you make it.” It’s really only what that defensive lineman makes it. And for you, he makes it sore and hurt the next morning.

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