Halloween Walk of Shame

In the spirit of Halloween, I figured I would repost a funny anecdote from last year's Halloween which had me both scratching my head and holding back my laughter. Nothing really much happened this year, so I figured I would once again share this story for those who didn't get to read it last year.

What, you thought going to costume parties, dressing up, and going trick or treat were the only things happening on Halloween? Well, think again!

On an episode of How I Met Your Mother, it was explained that Halloween also has what is known as the "Walk of Shame." So what does this consist of and why am I plugging one of my favorite shows? Simple.

I now have my own "Walk of Shame" story to elaborate on, and can now confirm the reality of this tradition. First off, this event needs a definition:

When you emerge from a guy's house wearing the same Halloween costume you partied in the night before reeking of booze, sweat, and maybe pumpkins- all in good fun from the night before. And unlike the normal walk of shame... you cannot hide in your halloween costume.

So there it is, a clear definition to the "Walk of Shame." Now then, off to my story...

My dog wakes me up at roughly 6am, normal time for the little guy to tell me to take him to his outdoor toilet. So I go to the elevator and catch a ride down. But suddenly, the elevator stops a few floors below and I quickly begin to wonder. "Who would wake up this early on a Sunday morning? Perhaps other dogs needed to take a dump this early too. Maybe someone works early today."

And then I see the person walking in. A girl more or less in her early 20's, I would say. She entered dressed in a cat dress, but it looked rather trampy. I quickly noticed the painted whiskers were almost done, by sweat I assumed. Not just that, but she had a look on her face that can only be described as shame and disappointment. She just looked at the floor, not even recognizing my dog's awesome cuteness.

The elevator opens at the lobby and she quickly walks towards the front gate. As she makes the trip, I realize she isn't a resident at the building I'm living in since she's got no key. That's when the episode from HIMYM came to my mind. And in seconds, I realized I was witnessing a "Halloween Walk of Shame." She walks out the front gate and just wanders off into the next street, no car noise or anything to indicate how she vanished. But I know this, she walked away shamefully as my dog took a piss on a car tire.

I wonder how many more flooded the streets in their costumed shame...

The Night The Sky Exploded

I believe this was back in 2009, but this is a story that takes place in the very middle of the night. Normally, I'm the kind of person who goes to sleep extremely early. However, that was the night I turned nocturnal for most of it.

As I was sleeping soundly, I suddenly felt a door shut and dismissed it as just minor. Seconds later, my best friend, Ace, calls me at 1am yelling at the top of his lungs.

"What do you want?" I say as I'm waking up.

"It's the end of the world! There was this big explosion, and the sky is on fire!"

"If it were the end of the world, why the hell would you wake me up?" I replied.

"You got to believe me! There's this big ball of fire, and it's a mess everywhere. The sky is burning up!" he continued.

If I were awake, I would have noticed something was odd about this. Not because of the big fireball burning in the sky, but the fact that he was speaking clearly. For you see, my best friend stutters often when he speaks. His level of fear was so intense, he didn't stutter a single time. But sleepy me didn't notice it.

"Go look at the window," he said.

I stood up and walked towards it. "I will bet nobody is outside," I said as I opened the window.

"Odd..."

"What?" he said.

"There's people pointing at the sky."

I walked out of the house and stood in the middle of the street as I looked up at the sky, realizing there was a giant fireball up there.

"The sky is on fire. Who knew?" I said, oblivious to the situation. And right there, I woke up.

What I think my face looked like when I discovered the fireball.

That's when I realized what was going on. I quickly hung up on my friend to check up on everyone else and make sure they were fine. Not many answered, but my buddy Johnny did pick up.

"Go see the sky," I said.

"Why?"

"It's on fire! You gotta see this!"

"I don't believe you," he replied.

"Would I call you in the middle of the night to tell you the sky is on fire just to get some laughs? I'm serious."

He stepped out of the house, keeping silent for a few seconds. When all of a sudden I hear him taking a large gasp on the phone.

"I stayed behind!" he yelled, thinking he got left behind in the rapture.

"It's not the rapture, you fool," I said. "There's been an explosion and I'm just making sure everyone's fine."

The real cause of that night's "Armageddon."

He hung up as I heard him begin to yell in paranoia. Turns out, there was an explosion at an oil refinery nearby and the entire area woke up due to the massive blast. But of course, none of us knew that right away.

As for me, I spent the rest of the night calming both friends. Both thought it was the end of the world, and I had to convince them otherwise. What a night it was...

Sick Week

I don't know why, but for some reason I just had to get really sick this week (hence no posts). Normally, I can just shrug it off and move on. But this time it was different, I was out cold for days. Even at work I kinda seemed like a zombie (with an allergy problem instead). However, now that I've recovered most of my energy, I have blogged to show I'm still alive (and no longer under any "quil" medication or sleeping like a bear).

Three hours? Try a week!

I do feel a bit bad that I couldn't do any posts because I was so sick, especially once I realized today was Friday. So I thought of a story I could tell that related to me being sick (hence the topic of the week), and I just managed to remind myself of one just as I'm writing this (no joke, I just came up with this now).

This is the story (or pseudo story) of my strange habit of getting sick the last day of a geek convention my friends and I went to back in 2007. The convention ran from Friday to Sunday, so we all gathered up money to get a hotel room and make sure to be there for the entire weekend. We didn't want to miss any of the festivities, after all. However, Sunday morning was a bit different for me. I look out the window to see everyone leaving, packing up their gear, and closing shop. Everything on the convention market was on sale, the last activities were closing up, and everyone was going home. And for some reason, it made me sick (literally, I got nausea that morning).

I was also quite dizzy from the nausea.

It's kind of funny to see everyone all sad leaving the convention and you can't join them because you're too busy trying not to vomit on the hallway for some reason. I have no idea how it came about, but I was the only one waking up sick. Everyone else seemed fine. That's what really confused me the most. And yet, I managed to recover after paying a visit to a few restrooms (both from hotels and Burger King while we were picking up breakfast). And once my insides were empty, we all went home and my insides were back to normal.

It's kind of funny that exactly a year later, it happened once again on the last day of that year's convention too. Everyone kind of expected it, for some reason. Guess it made a lasting impression.

Cake On A Pole

So where was I? Oh yes, Ace had just landed a date with a girl he just met (we just called her Cake, so I will do so here as well) and everything seemed to be going well. For once, it seemed a little too easy. And that's when I got the phone call.

"Dude, she has a boyfriend!"

"I knew it," I yelled. "I had a gut feeling."

"No, it's alright. She was about to dump him anyways, so I'm good to go!"

"You know this can't end well, right?"

But for some reason, everything was calm. That is, until a few weeks had passed. Ace and Cake were doing really well, so they decided to have me tag along on one of their dates (I was still a third wheel at this time, since it was a few months before meeting Amy). We stopped by her apartment to pick her up, when we started observing all the stuff she had around.

There was nothing to do, so what else were we gonna do?

Right away, I noticed a strange collection of colored wigs. So I had to ask Ace what was up with that.

"What are all those wigs for? Does she act or something?"

"Well, sort of."

I squinted my eyes, feeling there was more to this story. "What do you mean, sort of? What aren't you telling me?"

"Well," Ace hesitated, "she's a stripper."

She's a what?!?!?!?!?

"Of course. There had to be something off. There always is. Whether it's the good girl whose boyfriend beats you after church (true story), the crazy stalker who won't give up, or all those other crazy chicks, you can't seem to find a normal one again. I wouldn't be surprised if things got a bit strange just because she's a stripper. Heck, I wonder if her ex knew."

"He did. And he knows about us too," he said. "He's even come here a few times trying to break in and attack me."

"And you just bring that to a conversation just like that? So there's a lunatic who is out for revenge and he is after you? Even worse, he's out on the loose!"

"Don't worry about it. He has a restraining order. We are fine."

Just as we were about to finish the conversation, Cake entered the living room.

"So, what were you guys talking about?" she asked us.

We both smiled in silence, looking at each other at what to say. And that's when Ace brought out the cover, "just guy stuff."

That night, we all went out to the movies like a normal couple (and their third wheel) would. However, my paranoia was already planted. Then again, I'm a bit glad I kept my eyes open, because it would come in handy a few weeks later.

I kept my eyes open, in case he showed up.

But again, that's a story for another day.

Times Have Changed

One of the most curious things about this year has somehow been the huge turn in my life. Just 9 months ago, I was living a completely different life. Yet, I knew it was all going to change once I finished college. Somehow, it feels like I'm a completely different person since then. It's amazing how much one can change in 9 months.

Change doesn't bring all the perks of regeneration, but oh well...

And I didn't see all that change until a few days ago, when it all truly hit me. First off, I noticed all the changes around me during my first trip back home for graduation. People were different somehow, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. And it wasn't until my second trip back home (just 2 short months after) that I truly noticed. Somehow, it's as if the world around me changed. And why wouldn't it? I moved away, and those around me have moved on. You wouldn't stick around once a party ends, right? No. People go elsewhere, probably to cure their hangover from the party.

But then a few days ago, it really sunk with me how much I've changed. I went back to Jersey to visit some old friends, and to see two of them before they left for England. It wasn't until I was there that I saw how much I have changed. First thing in my mind was, "holy crap, I was a real super nerd back in the day!"

This was pretty much us back in the day.

Now, this isn't a bad thing. However, it just shows how much a person can change. A few years back, I was still one of the nerdiest guys around (and a big dork), kind of shy and mostly clueless. And now I think I'm almost the opposite in a way. I'm somehow feeling less nerdy (can that be possible?) than before, but at least I managed to lose the shy guy thing. Yet, I'm still relatively clueless in many things, but I'm not as lost as before. It feels a bit strange to sort of come full circle.

Just a few months ago, I was so different. All these months of adapting to a new lifestyle has ironically made me a little skeptical, overly cautious, and very analytical now. Still don't know what the final result will be like, but it's pretty much the same old blend with a few different flavors.

I'm starting to feel like Pepsi, going through so many different versions (yes, even Crystal Pepsi at one point) to a point where it feels never ending.

Your Own Advice

For some strange reason, many of my friends have come to me for relationship advice. And it always confused me why they kept coming back to me for it, especially since I was still a novice when it came to relationships. And yet, the advice I always gave them seemed to work much to all of our amazement. So for years, I would give out relationship advice to all those who asked. Everyone felt like somehow, I was a love guru. Well, not quite.

During the fall of 2010, I was trying to recover from a nasty breakup. I had taken the whole burden for myself and didn't know how to get out of it. And that's when Ace noticed my problem. I had given out good advice for years, but ironically was unable to listen to my own advice. It's a bit ironic, really. And yet, he knew just how to get that advice to me.

He stopped me during a conversation and then gave me the same advice I had given him during his last breakup, and in the same exact words no less. I swear, sometimes you don't realize your knuckle headed friends are actually listening to you until they throw your own words right back at you.

This time around, it was Ace's turn to snap me out of it.

Bad Habits You Don't Notice

During my final semester of college, Ace came up to me regarding a particular observation he and Freddy (mutual friend of ours) did regarding one of my bad habits. However, he refused to tell me what the bad habit was. According to them, they would only tell me what it was once I figured it out. So of course, it drove me to a pit of self-analysis. And let me tell you, it wasn't the best one.

I quickly looked inside to try and find every quirky thing I did that others might consider odd (because of course, I'm a bit strange at times). I quickly went into my strange ticks or actions, from the itchy noses during allergy season, to the excessive blinking during constant stress.

And yet, Ace kept denying any of my guesses were right. I basically had to beg him to tell me what my bad habit was. He told me that I take something funny and just ram it to the ground due to my constant repetition of the joke.

I was, but too much of a good thing turned it sour.

And that's when I realized, I'm one of those guys! You know the one. The person who keeps using the same joke over and over until it basically outlives it's usefulness in about a week's time. You know those comedians that use the same joke in every act and then bore you? I was that guy, but when I saw something that made us laugh.

Suddenly, I wanted to try and forget every joke I still found funny. Take them to the toilet and flush them like that goldfish you forgot to feed when you were seven. So I had to dig deep to suddenly not become a joke killer. It actually hit me hard. Who knew I was butchering good jokes like that? At this pace, I could have opened up a store to sell the meat of the fresh jokes I had slaughtered (get it? Because it's meat...oh, never mind).

That's how my jokes were processed.

And after all that, I still find myself doing it from time to time. But this time, I know when to stop. That's right, I went through Humor Rehab. All the jokes, none of the excessive dosage.

Dumpster Buddies

Somewhere between 1995 and 1996, a specific chain of events took place that wouldn't have a full reaction until later in 2008. This is one of those things I vaguely remember, but thanks to recent events, it's all become a bit clearer.

So what kind of events did start back in the 90's? Well, it's obvious that as a kid, I was bullied for basically being a strange kid. It's just the way of the playground, nothing unusual there. But in one particular day, I got tossed into the trash by some bulles. And it was at that moment, that my life was about to change.

"They got you too?" said another kid in my same situation.

"Yeah," I replied. "I hate these bullies."

"Then come with me. I know a place where they won't find us."

"Where?"

"The library"

It was a moment of pure genius. I had never thought of hiding in the library, and suddenly this kid comes into my dumpster (or did I stumble into his?) and finally offers a sanctuary. How could I pass it up? And so, I took the kid's offer and joined him at the library. And every day since then, we would just sit down and read comics during our recess. Not just that, we also had a third student seeking shelter, so we all became friends in a way.

Flash forward to 97, I had to change schools. While my best friend JC and I did indeed stay in touch, I did lose contact with my library companions. It was very unfortunate, because I would later block out most of the 90's from my memory.

2008 comes around and I've joined a new group of misfits. However, something felt a bit familiar about two of these friends. And once I hear the name of the school one of them came from, I started connecting the dots. The next day, we brought photos of our classes from 1996 to see if we could find each other. I quickly found them both, not even realizing that those kids I had picked out from the picture were standing right in front of me. And then it was their turn, I was found on the spot.

And just like that, I had reconnected with old friends. And what makes the chain of events epic, is that the kid in the dumpster turned out to be Ace, one of my best friends ever. So if it weren't for those bullies who shoved us in the same dumpster, chances are we wouldn't have had such a history.

It's also funny to tell others the story of how we met. Ace just puts it as simple as possible. "Easy," he says, "we both got shoved into a dumpster and found each other."

If that's not a precursor to a good bromance, then I don't know what is.

Somehow, I know I can relate.

A Rush of Intensity

During the holiday season of 2006, I found myself working a few extra shifts at the local pharmacy. As typical of a holiday season, a swarm of people would ambush the store and the lone cashier tried to survive the rush. As expected, I was that lone cashier. And anybody who has gone to a pharmacy (seriously, who doesn't go to one?) knows how crazy it can get during the season.

So you have a formula for insanity right there with the season alone, but now let's add the "Saturday Rush Factor" to make it interesting. So what's an overwhelmed cashier to do in a tight spot with no backup? Easy, he resorts to a method never attempted before. And no, it wasn't that bad a thing. I bought one of those little energy shots that are supposed to give you energy for hours.

That's what I needed anyways, but I didn't know what I've gotten into until after I chugged that beverage of energetic proportions. At first, I didn't feel a thing and everything was going normally. And that's when the rush hit. Suddenly, everything started to slow down. And no, I wasn't on an acid trip (don't even know what those feel like, just for those of you wondering), but rather the energy drink was starting to work.

I was so hyper and charged with energy, that the whole world suddenly seemed to slow down around me. I felt like Neo, I was taking on the Matrix (or groceries) with lightning speed and max precision. I kept scanning and bagging items so fast, I felt like I had grown additional arms.

I felt like I had extra limbs thanks to that little drink of energy!

I don't know how much it lasted, but it's a rush that I've never felt before. Now I know why my friends warned me of energy drinks during high school. If I've been unbearable in my normal state, just imagine what an energy drink would do. With that kind of energy, I would have chatted someone to death. Lucky for me, all that energy was wasted on bagging like a maniac.

By the end of the shift, I was so beat, but I didn't realize I still had another bottle to go. And what a time it was to choose the remaining bottle. Here's a little bit of advice for anybody wanting to take energy drinks. Don't drink one if you're going to help navigate someone to a particular destination (this was before the GPS was commonly available and was expensive), so I took that map and made it my bitch. Navigating with energy drinks are quite an experience.

I'm glad to say I've yet to take another one of those since 2006, because they turn me into something else. Kind of like Bruce Banner and the Hulk, but not really focused on destruction.

Pride

I know I haven't posted as much lately. I've been busy trying to get acclimated with the new job I started last week. However, it all went in a completely different direction. It's hard to believe how a new experience can somehow turn sour, no matter how much you fight it. It's been a rough week so far (reason for not posting), and it all concluded today with my departure from the new job.

So this is where pride comes in. It's funny how pride can make us do strange things. Pride is such an easy thing to gain, but also an easy thing to lose. It's kind of like the attention span of a goldfish, but not as impressive. Our pride can sometimes blind us from the truth or try to protect us. For me, my pride would not allow me to admit I was sinking.

I feel like I got tossed in a pool while I was trying to swim. I tried all I could, but I was eventually overwhelmed and had to leave the pool. It's hard to admit it, but I had recognized I wasn't doing well in this new job. I broke down and admitted my defeat, and with that, I was out.

I don't post this to be gloomy (despite this being a blog of humorous nature), but rather as a lesson. Sometimes, our pride will not allow us to admit we aren't good at something. And eventually, we will recognize our limitations and make a decision. For me, it was realizing I was sinking fast and wasn't able to recover. Pride can be a fuel for self-improvement, but it can also cloud our vision.

Before I go, I want to at least leave something funny (again, being serious in a humor blog isn't normal for me, but I needed to do this). I did have a customer with the funniest name ever...

"Rusty Dick"

No joke. That's his name.

The Itchy Statue

In college, sometimes we go out of our way to get extra credit in a course. Sometimes we need it, and sometimes we do it just to impress someone who is trying to get it as well. In my case, it was a little bit of both. Our history teacher, a person so obsessed with the Greek culture that she would devour one if she ever came across one, decided to put up an event where her students would be portraying living statues in front of the entire university.
A bit nerve wrecking, but I needed the extra credit.

As we prepared for it, I realize my greek costume looks more like a 5 year old's attempt at a ghost during halloween. And yet, I continued. My sandals weren't very greek either, but instead were those monster "man-dals" full of mud. Close enough, I suppose. And so, we all marched into the main entrance and started to take our places. I was quite happy with this, considering all I would have to do is stand still and not do a thing.

The professor started placing us in our spots, and once my turn came, I was quite satisfied with my spot. I had plenty of shade, a steady base to stand on, plenty of visibility to see who was watching, I was close enough to an exit where I could bail. What could possibly go wrong, right?

As the event started, I started to get a slight itchy sensation in my left leg. Perhaps it was just the fact that I was standing still and my body was just messing with me. You know, like how we get an itchy nose as soon as we use both of our hands to lift something heavy. Well, I was having the same situation in my leg. Something didn't feel right. And for once during that day, I began to suspect something was going wrong.

As it turns out, the professor had placed me on top of an ant hill and didn't realize it. And I'm not talking about an approximation to the object in question, I'm talking about being placed right on top of the thing. So imagine, to my surprise, how it felt to have all those ants suddenly try to crawl up my leg. And that's when my problem came up. How was a statue supposed to scratch his legs if he couldn't move?

I could hear them singing in unison as they marched up my legs.

And once the professor turned around, I scratched my leg with the opposing leg's foot. I scratched as discretely as possible. But this is college, nothing goes unnoticed. All my friends started noticing my predicament. I was a statue standing on top of an ant hill and I was trying to scratch myself to the end of this event in one piece. And after what seemed like an eternity later, the event ended and I rushed off in a blind fury towards the men's room.

With one great swoop of a moist paper towel, I scraped off all those pesky ants that were still troubling me. Needless to say, I did get to make an impression that day, even though it wasn't the one I wanted. For a bit, people were talking about the itchy statue. And even though it faded into obscurity, it's one of those things that got me noticed for a brief time.

And yes, I did manage to get the extra credit. Did I impress the girl? Well, if you count making her laugh on account of your accidental predicament, then yes.

A Fancy Night

Not only did my early college days bring new depth to my character (I was seen as a crazy man with a mountain bike), but I was starting to appreciate the finer things in life for once. I was learning to love my new found free time, my new friends, my new life, everything was just going well. I was even losing all that weight that didn't go away in high school, but that most mostly due to the "college diet" where you eat cheap and eat little.

One of those things I was starting to appreciate were the arts, especially classic art. I discovered a Van Gogh painting (Starry Night) sometime during one of my days in class and it was an instant hit. The world of literature soon opened up even more, as I somehow submerged myself into the arts (not just because I was a humanities major at the time). And with my new found appreciation for the arts, I suddenly saw an opening to be a fancy gentleman.

One of our humanities professors had invited the class to an art gallery near the university for an event (which I seem to forget what it was) and any student who went would get extra credit. So I had a chance to be all artsy fartsy and try to improve my grade in a difficult class (history was never my strong point when I started out) all at the same time? Where do I sign?

Twas my time to be a gentleman!

Not just that, but there was also this girl I was trying to impress. What? It wouldn't be me if there wasn't some kind of conquest involved, now would it? Thought so. I was trying to impress Sally, a girl from our class (and freshmen survival group) that seemed to bond with me somehow. Hey, I sure as heck didn't complain. It was college, a whole new ball game. All my embarrassing shenanigans from high school were gone.
So then, at the night of the event, my friends and I congregated around some fancy art and everything seemed fine. That is, until they brought the wine.

This was my first time facing any kind of drink in the college environment. But this was somehow different. There was no pressure at all to drink. In fact, nobody seemed to care. However, I still wanted a bit of that wine. After all, I was trying to be as fancy as I could.

So I went with a friend who knew a thing or two about wine. And I simply followed his lead. Little did I know, I was in for a surprise. This man knew wine well, so of course he would pick some strong stuff. And like a little boy trying to imitate, I chose the same wine he did. Mistake #1 right there. And then I did what should never be done with wine. I took a giant gulp of it. That right there was mistake #2. You don't gulp, you sip.

Lift the pinky and be fancy!

My throat was so dry, I quickly looked for an immediate source of hydration. I had to conform to Pepsi, since there was no water around (surprisingly). After that, I realized what had happened. My friend was laughing at my mistake, especially since I had taken an "expert's wine" instead of a starter. So I started to look around and found white wine. And yes, I mixed wine with soda. And I took a few of each, not sure why.

So then, I started to feel a bit tipsy. However, I realized that these kinds of drinks affect me in a different way. Just like people can turn into annoying clowns when they drink, I turned into just the opposite. I was as quiet as can be.

And that's when Sally showed up. Crap!

The rest of the night was spent with her and friends, and I was as quiet as can be. And yes, I had my alone moments with her where I could have been gone all Antonio Banderas on her, but instead I was as quiet as Mr.Bean during a good comedy.

Yep, it was a fancy night indeed.

Digital Diagnosis

Some time last year, I decided to foolishly check WebMD to check information on something that was happening to me. Earlier that day I had either some hot chocolate or some kind of soup, either way, it was hot liquid. That first gulp burned my tongue a bit, something I'm quite familiar with. I'm clumsy, it happens.

And for some reason, that day was the first time I decided to really pay attention to what my burnt tongue looked like in the mirror. And what happens when you combine paranoia and curiosity? I don't know, but don't go looking for it on WebMD.

I checked all the symptoms, and of course, they all seemed like terrible diseases. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep that night for two obvious reasons. One, the feel of my burnt tongue became so obvious it was distracting for once. And secondly, the paranoia instilled in me would not let me sleep due to the fear of having a few bumps on the tongue being related to a form of cancer.

Eventually, reality kicked in and I felt rather foolish for even attempting to find out what I was going through. Turns out, WebMD and paranoia can turn a simple thing into a giant disaster. It's one of those things you put in the category of things that shouldn't get mixed together along with texting and driving,  or chocolate milk and pizza. They just don't go well together.

So next time you feel a bit funky and want to check online what you might be feeling, make sure to stop right there because you might be saying goodbye to common sense and hello to the loony bin.

Safety First, Accidents Later

Out of all the things my freshman year of college taught me, one of them was to not depend on a car to get to where I wanted. I had a mountain bike I rode to college as my main mode of transportation. Well, it was either that or walking. Besides, I lived on the other side of town, so it was a little over 10 minutes of travel (on bike). Either way, I was starting to get known for being one of the few people who biked their way to campus.

Riding dorky, but with class!

And of all those things I was known for, one of them was the helmet hair. Back then, I actually had a certain amount of hair to make helmet hair feasible. So when people saw me, they knew I came on my bike. And with that comes the other characteristic that made people look at me funny. I was the only one who actually used a helmet. Nobody dared to wear a helmet. I don't know why, but I guess they feared they might look like little kids, perhaps. I didn't care, because I wanted to be safe.
Side note: I always chained my bike once I parked it, but I never did so with my helmet because nobody ever bothered to even glance at it. Never got stolen, so it kind of made me laugh since it was never chained to the bike.

Should have gotten a "hairmet" to help with my hair issues.

That added precaution made my new college friends joke around with me regarding my bike safety. They all jokingly said that at some point or another, I was gonna get hit by a car, despite my precautionary measures.
So a few weeks later, it actually happened.

As I was traveling across the sidewalk, I happen to slip on a couple of rocks and smacked the back of a car with the left side of my body. Nothing happened to the car, but I did happen to lose my balance and injured myself. I tried to use my right foot to try and stop myself from falling, but as usual, I slipped on some remaining pebbles and sprained my ankle. But the fun didn't stop there. I also injured my right wrist as I somehow tried to stop myself from landing on the road. Yeah, that didn't work either.

I quickly stood up and got back on the sidewalk as a car was approaching down the lane. It didn't bother to stop though. Despite being injured and having sprained my ankle, the adrenaline kicked in and I managed to peddle my way to campus. However, as soon as I chained my bike and took my helmet off (revealing my always embarrassing helmet hair), I realized my right ankle was in horrible pain.

What just happened?

So I hopped my way to class. And yes, I was late. Once I stepped into the classroom, everyone stood in shocked silence. The fact that I forgot to brush off the debris from my clothes made it look like I was in a serious wreck. I apologized to the professor for being late and explained the whole accident. I sat down and looked at my classmates as they tried to recover from the shock.
"Who knew? I actually did get hit by a car! Good thing none of you said truck," I joked.

I don't know about you, but that's how you make an entrance.

Welcome to College

Out of all the days in life I will never forget, my first days of college are among those. Why? Well, it was not only a chance for me to reinvent myself, but it was also a new exciting stage in life. It was quite nerve wrecking as I anticipated it. That one first day was going to be important. New people, new environment, new everything. I had so much anxiety that I barely managed to sleep.

Little did I know, my lack of sleep was actually going to help me on those first few days.

How so? Well, you know how college is basically a chance for many of us to make a good first impression? Take that well known fact and combine it with older students who look to give freshmen an unforgettable initiation. That's right, it's a recipe for disaster. And yet, it's also tradition. At least, that's how we did at the good ol' UPR (University of Puerto Rico). Older students would hunt down the new ones and give them an initiation they would never forget.

I'm hunting freshmen!

And now, here's where my lack of sleep kicks in with the story. It was easy to identify the new students because they both looked excited and were possibly wearing new clothes. Me, on the other hand, I looked like crap from lack of sleep. I didn't comb my hair, put on the first shirt I could find, and put on some sandals. So when I went to my first day, I looked like any other college student. I was sleep deprived, didn't bother to prepare for my first day, and looked like I was in a foul mood.

So when I marched in through the main entrance (a big mistake for all freshmen), they gave me one good look and didn't think I was a freshman. And then, I got one of the biggest scares I've ever had. I hear one of the students behind me yell freshman with all his might. My face froze up like a person who just used botox, my whole immune system stopped, and my heart seemed to be waiting for an attack. I pretended not to be bugged by this and just walked into the main building (where all students took class, so I was safer), then proceeded to go into the first bathroom and restore some feeling into my face (by spraying it with cold water, what were you thinking?).

Turns out there was a fellow freshman behind me and the poor sap got initiated.

However, just because I managed to escape once didn't mean I was in the clear. After my first classes, it was time to spend some free time between classes. I would have normally gone to the cafeteria to meet with friends and relax, but I couldn't do that as a freshman. At least, not in the first weeks. I had managed to learn every hallway imaginable so I could avoid the "freshman routes" and manage to survive. So for the first few weeks, I spent my free time reading comics in the library and eating my lunch outside classrooms.

This was my shelter when I started out. And yes, it's an actual picture from the university for once.

Little did I know, but my few survival tips actually made me look more like a college student than I thought. I was blending in, for once. And coming from a high school geek who stood out for being a strange kid, suddenly turning into just another college guy who blended in was a bit of a breath of fresh air.
However, I didn't know that the next months were going to bring about a new layer to my personality that even I didn't know. And to think it all started with a mountain bike...

Bad Luck

All those people who know me well can tell you that out of all my attributes, one of them has to be unlucky. Somewhere along the way, Murphy's Law decided to be my own personal companion and just strikes me whenever it sees fit. And it doesn't matter how, but my string of bad luck continues.

So far, my latest string of bad luck has been in the social world. Trying from all angles but failing to make friends in my area (gave up after 6 months) and not finding a single one. Now, my bad luck branches out to something a bit more trivial, but it's something that still hurts. I wanted to make a trip back home (which I can currently afford) to watch a big soccer game, but the tickets are way more expensive than I thought. Bad luck would have it that they barely had any cheap seats and everything else is nearly from $200 and above. Why is this bad luck for me? Well, I wanted to take someone to the game with me.

And that person seems to be the only other person as unlucky as I am, or just really clumsy. While we did separate last year, Linda and I still keep in touch quite often. And while I wish she were here, it can't happen. And with my trip, I wanted to take her to the game but now it's too expensive. Now I won't be able to. Looks like there can't be too much bad luck concentrated into one place.

And then again, we also developed a theory as to why we have so much bad luck. One of the theories I told her was that in either some alternate universe or alternate future, we have a son with our combined levels of bad luck. And that boy was known across the world as Bad Luck Brian.

That's my boy! Well...could be

With parents this unlucky, it might make some sense. I told Linda this theory and she seems to be on board with that explanation that Brian is our son from an alternate future. His father is constantly taunted by Murphy's Law, while his mother is also shares some of that bad luck and clumsiness. Mix that together and you get the unluckiest character in all the internet.

Then again, perhaps recognizing this theory has brought more bad luck between us and caused Brian's own existence to be prevented. This is why we can't have nice things.

I like nice things.

Graduating On The Titanic

Booyah! I made it!

Graduation day finally arrived, and it was quite surreal. Even though I was already awarded my degree in February (since I finished mid-year), I still had to wait until June. Problem was, I already spent all the emotional stuff for when I was awarded my degree that I actually forgot to save some for the actual day.

And yet, I somehow managed to tap into my reserve and find some emotion. I saw the people I traveled with on this academic journey and I actually started to finally feel it. At one point, I still couldn't believe I was about to graduate. I felt like I was on top of the world. I felt invincible.

That is...until the first speaker took the stand. To sum up his speech, he basically told us we are royally screwed. He said we are graduating into a world with no jobs and all that (which is true), but did very little to actually motivate us. The motivational part came from the second speaker, which managed to fix the mood and actually inspire some of us. But then, the band took the stage and played the most ironic song they could ever play at a graduation.

They played the theme from Titanic.

Not the best song for a graduation, right?

I started looking around to see if there was any water nearby, because I felt like this graduation was sinking like the Titanic. Everybody was confused. Why play that song at a graduation? Are we supposed to go look for life boats or something? Do the employed grads get early access to those very life boats? I don't know, but it was strange.
And the graduation carried on, until it was time to pick up diplomas. At last, I was going to get what was mine. All those years of hard work have paid off. I was starting to get real emotional, that is, until I saw how they were handling it. We formed a big line and were handed our "diploma holders" as we passed by, and then we had to return to our seats. So our emotional moment was somehow turned into a line of free samples from Costco. They were handing out the diplomas like the newest experimental blend of iced tea. And we only got the case, especially since our diplomas weren't printed yet. So I have to wait to get my real diploma, but at least I have the nifty holder.

Our line for the diploma felt like waiting for an iPad.

Oh well. I just hope to see my diploma soon.

Vacation Time

While my actual vacation doesn't start until Tuesday, I realized I kinda took an early vacation from my writing (stressful week and actual vacation preparation). So I figured I would take this time to just announce (formally, since I forgot to) that I'm gonna be on vacation for a week. I will be back with a new story once I'm back, but right now I just need to recharge my batteries.

Not only am I exhausted physically, but I'm also just mentally exhausted. That's kind of why I've had a hard time deciding what stories to tell and how to tell them. But a few nights with some old friends, and I'm sure some old stories will come up and smack that writer's block right in the face.

Until then, I face packing, airplane travel (might remind me of another old story from traveling), a graduation, and a lot of other fun things. Don't know if I will have the time to post during the trip (won't be bringing computer anyways), but I will surely post after coming back.

Anger

Almost...

We all have different ways of dealing with anger. Some of us have different ways of coping with it, whether it be yelling in blind rage, punching a wall, holding it in, or taking it out on others. For me, it's still unclear how I'm sometimes able to deal with anger. But yesterday, I found out just how much I had forgotten to deal with it.

To put it lightly, I've had the worst day at work...ever! Now, I'm used to getting complained at all the time. However, yesterday's scoldings were to intense, they shook me to my very core. If I didn't know any better, I thought I was gonna get fired on the spot. That's how bad it seemed. And that's coming from someone who actually likes his job and works more than anybody else there (and sells more too).

So how did this anger come about? Easy. Messy store (as expected coming after a weekend), a lazy coworker who doesn't do a thing to help (can't clean the whole store by myself), me doing a few things with the paperwork that didn't apply to weekends (but still took the extra time to do it), and the same coworker throwing me under the bus and ratting out a joke we had going the previous day. Take all those things, mix them together and you get the ultimate recipe for disaster.

And what a disaster it was.

So of course, after being told I was basically a worthless piece of crap by my boss (general assumption) and punished (I no longer work on Saturdays, my most profitable day) for it, I had all this anger inside and wanted to explode. A little more, and I would have started to turn green and smash stuff. But then again, I didn't want to rip my nice clothes.

Right there I knew I had forgotten how to deal with anger. Unfortunately, I took it out on the poor wall by punching it a few times in my blind rage. Normally, I would punch a wall in anger and then feel the pain while realizing how big a mistake it was to do so, but this time it was different. I didn't flinch. This was some serious Bruce Banner stuff right there.

Despite all that, it was one of the few times my anger was about to take control. Normally, I would have enough patience to run an entire country's energy source that depended on patience itself. However, when push comes to shove, the walls break down. We all have problems with anger, especially when it comes hard. And for me, it broke down the wall with a rocket powered train.

Normally, this is true.

It's alright to feel angry. However, we can't let it control us...even if it kicks us in the balls.

Relaxation Time

So far, I've been working over 30 hours every week. I had no idea how exhausting it has been, despite the breaks and all. However, this week is a small blessing in disguise. I've got 4 days off, since they decided to give me a bit of a break. And that's fine by me.

I realized I needed this break to recharge my batteries. Not just that, but it feels damn good to sleep until whatever time I want. Problem is, I still wake up early. No worries, though. At least I have more free time. Too bad I don't have much to fill it with yet.

It's good to sit at home for a while and not have to worry about customers shoving you away. It's good to sit back and let your feet rest. Then again, it's days like these where work could inspire me to write. I'm mostly on automatic when I'm working, that my mind just has time to think of new things to write. Damnit, I need work to drive my writing! Well, only when I'm working alone.

No wonder I come up with good material after a shift where I'm alone. Oh well, time to keep sleeping.