Today he feels as though the world has been lifted from his shoulders.
He has no specific reason to feel this unexpected joy, though he has an idea of where it's coming from. He knows now how precious life is, and how every little moment is worth enjoying. Without the bad, there can be no good. After the past few weeks, he never thought he'd have a good week again. Yet he did...
He'd always heard people say "It's always gets better," yet he realized now that it always does. It's naive and juvenille to expect everything in life to be handed over on a platter. It just doesn't happen that way. Life is cruel and unfair, filled with enough toil, pain and sorrow to make even the most cheerful souls weep.
Yet the good times make it all go away. Something so small as time spent with friends on a Thursday night or having a week alone can completely turn around a bad week. This has truely been a good week.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Josh Rouse - Poisoning the minds of today's youth worse than Chinese baby bottles
Another long day of homework under his belt, he stumbles into the living room only to find his least favorite person in the WHOLE world staring him right in the face.
He loathes the man, yet he seems unescapable even in his own house. He treks down the stairs to the basement, where he finds a happy little suprise awaiting him. It seems the cat decided it was time to decorate, covering the floor in a lovely shade of vomit.
Ruing the day the feline entered the family, the germaphobic lad cleans up the mess and curses violently at the four-legged beast. The cat does not respond, but he can tell it regrets its decision and he decideds to drop the issue.
A glimmer of hope arises as he notices his guitar is left unscathed, and he quickly heads toward it. Plugging it in and hoping it can salvage the last remaining shreds of sanity left over from the vomit fiasco, he flips the amp on.
Feeling the power of the voltage in his very fingertips, his fingers form the familiar pattern of a G-chord and he prepares to strike strings with the ferocity of a thousand Portugese warriors when suddenly... the power goes out. It's a good day.
He loathes the man, yet he seems unescapable even in his own house. He treks down the stairs to the basement, where he finds a happy little suprise awaiting him. It seems the cat decided it was time to decorate, covering the floor in a lovely shade of vomit.
Ruing the day the feline entered the family, the germaphobic lad cleans up the mess and curses violently at the four-legged beast. The cat does not respond, but he can tell it regrets its decision and he decideds to drop the issue.
A glimmer of hope arises as he notices his guitar is left unscathed, and he quickly heads toward it. Plugging it in and hoping it can salvage the last remaining shreds of sanity left over from the vomit fiasco, he flips the amp on.
Feeling the power of the voltage in his very fingertips, his fingers form the familiar pattern of a G-chord and he prepares to strike strings with the ferocity of a thousand Portugese warriors when suddenly... the power goes out. It's a good day.
Monday, October 8, 2007
A glimpse of life at Washburn U.
As the sun begins to sink behind the cluster of trees that outline the boundaries of the beautiful campus, an unusual energy flows through the air. Though it is October, the usually cool fall breeze that invigorates students with memories of seasons past is replaced with by the warm remains of the blazing summer.
The energy is instead flowing from the excited students themselves, a nervous yet stimulating vibe that drifts past White Concert Hall into the small community surrounding it. For some, it's merely about curiosity. Others are clamoring for the celebrity that waits for them behind the stage.
For some, however, it is a nuisance. The parking lot is filled to the brim with cars, and busloads of people shuttle around the walkways. To those who find no purpose in listening to a porn legend, or to those who angrily shuffle to class, the multitudes of people are a pesky annoyance.
Good parking overrides Ron Jeremy any day.
The energy is instead flowing from the excited students themselves, a nervous yet stimulating vibe that drifts past White Concert Hall into the small community surrounding it. For some, it's merely about curiosity. Others are clamoring for the celebrity that waits for them behind the stage.
For some, however, it is a nuisance. The parking lot is filled to the brim with cars, and busloads of people shuttle around the walkways. To those who find no purpose in listening to a porn legend, or to those who angrily shuffle to class, the multitudes of people are a pesky annoyance.
Good parking overrides Ron Jeremy any day.
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