The 100 meter Dash of Hope

Let's assume that you have a particular hope, and in one week, partly due to the pursuit of said hope, and partly due to things beyond your control, much of the rest of your life seems to lose hope in one aspect or another.

Now, let's assume that your original hope becomes a realization. Wouldn't it just be hilarious if mother nature decided to drop large balls of ice onto your brand new hope? Well, in case you're wondering, it's not as hilarious as would seem. And I need a new windshield.

Sometimes, I wish God would give me a textbook and say "read chapter 5" and I could read the chapter and know what I needed to know. And I wouldn't need a windshield.

So, I'm going to go now. Have a great day.

Time Travel

There are times in which mistakes are made, life goes on, and few people think anything of them. A few of these times occur in such a manner as to inspire the victim to entertain the idea of transversing time in order to advise his or her past self to not make said mistake. These are the worst, because they plague you for a long while, and the thoughts of these mistakes seem to frequently arise, if only to spite the owner of the mistake.

A grave mistake was made last fall; specifically while I was signing up for classes this semester. I decided that an 8 week English Composition course sounded like the way to go. I was mistaken. An even more dire mistake was made when I missed the first class period.

In order to try to remedy, nay lessen the magnitude of this mistake, I made a trip to Wal-Mart last night to buy a planner and a small composition book to take daily notes that I seem to keep writing on blank paper, folding, placing in my pocket, and either throwing away or washing.

I left my brand new planner at home all day.

Bureaucracy is a concept in sociology and political science referring to the way that the administrative execution and enforcement of legal rules is socially organized.

Bureacracy is a necessary evil isn't it? Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I feel that people live for bureacracy. Some people ARE bureacracy.

If I spend the first four years of my child's life convincing him that he is a twinkie, that's bad. It does no good for him, and no good for me, except for the occasional humor gained from watching him gnaw his arm. The reason it's bad is this: he is not a twinkie. It's not his nature. He shouldn't act like a twinkie because he isn't one. So, how do you tell "what" is good? It would be what comes naturally, right? A tree is a tree because it naturally turns into a tree. We cut it down and turn it into a boat, and the trees don't really take kindness to becoming boats. Trees love to be trees.

My point is imminent. Humans. What do we do naturally. We make friends, we have fun. In middle school, you don't see the children forming Org-Charts and assigning Betsy to do all the paperwork while Benny is the spokesman. Children have fun. They become friends and have a good time.

So, tell me this; Why is it that we force bureacracy on ourselves? Why does it matter? Why is it so important to mention the Extended Service Plan on a TV, that failure to do so induces a write-up? What is the purpose of a write-up? My manager said that the purpose is that there is documentation available should the problem pursue.

Businesses are so full of bureacracy, that they have basically taken away our natural selves and molded us into a profit-driven mechanism with no soul. That's right, I said it. My company has no soul. It is a machine designed and implemented to pull in money as fast as possible and as efficiently as possible.

People don't have fun managing other people. People have fun LEADING people. Management is a joke, nay, a worthless position designed for people to fill who wish they had leadership skills and merely have more desire and less heart than real-life folks. I will never be a manager. I will be a leader. I will lead by example and become a good friend and a strict enforcer. Look at what God is. He is not the General Manager of Earth, nor the CEO of Universe.

Bureacracy is a device to control people and to make it as difficult as possible for someone else to take a TRUE leadership position. Bureacrats are worthless, and don't give me any crap about "I didn't make policy, I just abide by it"... that's total bolshevik. As a man once said, the fault doesn't lie with the man who invented the gun, but rather the man who pulled the trigger.

Apple-fritters.

I think I'm going to try to write a story.

New Begins.

Blogger.com. What does it have that Xanga doesn't have? What is more appealing than MySpace? Let's discuss.

Xanga. The name is catchy, albeit odd. What does dictionary.com have to say about it? Nothing. When you type in xanga, the closest match is Sanga. Sanga: The Abyssinian ox (Bos or Bibos, Africanus), noted for the great length of its horns. It has a hump on its back.

Xanga, first off, is noted for the length of its horns. If you use horns as a metaphor for it's influence in the minds of impressionable youth, it is far reaching and devestating. Xanga also has a hump on its back. A weight that is dragging it down into the abyssinia. This hump is called MySpace.

When "myspace" is entered into dictionary.com, and interesting phenomenon occurs. An infinite loop of different arrangements of the words "my" and "space" with differing numbers of dashes and spaces peppered betwixt.

I ignored this and picked the next most interesting word that was anywhere close. Mysidacea. What the asteriskpercentampersandslash is a Mysidacea? Simple. Opossum Shrimp.

So, Xanga has horns and MySpace is Opossum Shrimp.

I know, it's a stretch. But it's more entertaining than reading msnbc.com