you're that much closer to knowing me.
Hey Geert,
Anonymous,
November 27, 2005 11:10 AM
hehehe - Want winter? Come and get it!
dancing chaos,
November 29, 2005 2:54 AM
Hey Geertie,
Anonymous,
December 01, 2005 11:11 PM
its pretty sad actually- you were deprived. its like -2 here atm- froizin!! methinks you should just move to a cold country to compensate- white christmases n all that. great poem btw- glad my idea created something beautiful and thought prvoking- just as well you asked me really! hehe
Anonymous,
December 04, 2005 10:51 AM
It snowed here this morning :D Snowball fights, snowmen, bum sleding, and snow soccer/frisbee allll day
Anonymous,
December 04, 2005 8:19 PM
you're that much closer to knowing me.
it could be worse
you're that much closer to knowing me.
Geert,
Anonymous,
November 21, 2005 1:06 PM
werd - I was talking about this with one of the dudes JETing it with me this year - and he kept mentioning how much TIME i had in front of me (he's like 27 or something). Thing is, I dont want to use that time STALLING. I've totally come to the conclusion that half of life is what you do with it... but sometimes you just gotta go with the flow of things and they sorta fall into place. And trust me, sometimes excessive planning is just a waste of time. A year is just about as far in the future as Im willing to foresee, cause we both know are minds are bound to change as fast as the weather! Ah, curiosity and an active mind are such a curse sometimes!
you're that much closer to knowing me.
wow, you got up early to post this!lol. deep story... did you ever think about writing poetry? it could be fun(ni);)
Anonymous,
November 20, 2005 4:35 AM
you're that much closer to knowing me.
man, that was long- interesting though. i love reading your blogs theyre like your stream of consciousness splurged on a page with funny bits added- proper talent there!(not saying that your consciousness isnt funny in its own right)- have you ever seen *the life of david gale* its a fantastic film- thoroughly recommend it. its only very loosely connected to your blog but i think you'd like it.
Anonymous,
December 04, 2005 11:18 AM
rather it is a collection of biased opinions and judgments (like a bible). So, in my opinion, what is the best hobby? Music. I think musicians have it best. Look at the simplicity of it: take a guitar (for example). To me, it's a few pieces of wood stuck together with 5 strings (give or take) running from on end to the other. To Zack (for example) it's a tool with which he can make all kinds of sounds. Just the other week a bunch of us were all at someone's house, and a guitar was brought out. Suddenly, everyone was singing at the top of their lungs, ancient classics and asinine freestyles. We had a blast. Can anyone draw a parallel where drama is the hobby at hand instead of music? If you can thnk of anything, please, leave a comment and let me know. I have all kinds of memories of me and my friends just chilling, having a great time, where there was a guitar involved. This includes any number of concerts (obviously) but also a lot of really random stuff that really made the respective day. For example, when my mates and I were in Porto a few years ago, waiting for a bus to galicia, zack just started playing on the street. Ruben accompanied on his djambe and so on and so forth. In no time, we'd amassed a fortune of 50 cents. Sure it's no money, but I never expect to make anything when I'm having fun, so there you go. The guitar continued to make an appearance on that trip, making us quite the celebrities at the campsite. Even without the Guitar, we were renowned for our portable CD player which we blasted at full volume whenever we did the dishes (hence the CD inlay you can find in the photos section). Music bring people together at all times, and the best part is you don't have to be a musician to take part. Two of my closest friends are musicians, and to be honest, I feel kinda left out from their music world. Despite the openness of the music world, there's another side to it which is open only to those who play instruments, which is a shame for the rest of us who don't, since it looks like a real fun world. But drama is great too. It's not generally as interactive as music, but I've had fun with it. Not just in the theatre, but also out on the street. Street performances are very fun to do, as James and I found out one night in the summer of 2004. We didn't make any money, but we were drunk, so I think there's a good balance. Zack turned 18 back in June, but he couldn't really think of a good '18th birthday present' to ask for. In my opinion (which was an influence, since I turned 18 a few months earlier) on your 18th birthday you should get something which'll last. Something which counts. Something that you can show off many years hence and say 'I got this for my 18th'. I don't know why, but it seemed important to me. I got a nice watch (which I rarely wear) and I was very happy with it. Zack's big day came and went, with no 'special present' and a bit of extra money left on the budget. When he came back from england last week, he showed me what he'd gotten, and it was the perfect gift for him. I couldn't understand why he didn't think of it back in June, but I'm glad he got it and I know for a fact that he is, too. Because Zack is a musician, he needed a real instrument, and instruments don't get much more real than a Gibson Les Paul. I know that to him, its more than a guitar. It's a promise of great times to come. All I see is a bunch of wood and 5 strings. Happy belated birthday, brother.
you're that much closer to knowing me.
thought id put a comment here, seeing as no one has yet:)its quite long, but hey: MUSIC ROCKS!!i agree but to be able to act, like properly(which is what we're talking about here) is in my mind pretty damn gwoovy. But i spose everyone wants to be/ do what they're not the grass is always greener. I just think that its great for everyone to have any interest at all- be it art, music, fashion(my 3 preferences lol), drama, sport, blogging, stamps- each one to their own. To be fair, its not too late to learn an instrument now you know- if you feel so inclined- then you can be part of our little world which is o so fun!- go for it!! (if you want:P)
Anonymous,
November 17, 2005 10:25 AM
you're that much closer to knowing me.
I hate you more than words can describe...
Anonymous,
November 14, 2005 3:18 PM
you're that much closer to knowing me.
Well, good to know I have yet another blogger to lurk.
dancing chaos,
November 15, 2005 1:21 AM
hey stez,
you're that much closer to knowing me.
mission statement
you're that much closer to knowing me.
nice poem. Sorry to say, me, you, danny, zack, steffi, nathan and ruben were all pretty warm yesterday in a small room with a duvet and a radiator =P hehe
jessie
you know where to find me...
hearts, steph
Just thought that I should tell you that I had a great afternoon at the beach, bodysurfing and tanning!
Hughie
love ya x
Skwidly
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Tonight is thanksgiving. What are we giving thanks for this year?
I'm thankful for pretty much my whole life up to this point. I'm thankful for my future prospects. I'm thankful for my family. I'm thankful for my friends. I'm thankful for turkey.
I'm very thankful for the turkey.
To the best of my recollection (and its been a decade since I was in an american education system), thanksgiving represents a huge dinner that the injuns had with the pilgrims, and the pilgrims were real thankful because, well, they were kinda dumb and didn't know how to kill a turkey (and turkeys ain't real bright creatures themselves).
I think its a glorious holiday. I love eating, I love my friends, I love eating with my friends and I especially love not having to lift a finger to help make it happen!
But I think back to my american school days, I remember the stories being told. We, us merry few, with gleaming eyes and sparkling teeth, we sat and listened and history played out before us.
Scene 1: Pilgrims land. Happy Happy.
Scene 2: Pilgrims meet Injuns. Happy Happy.
Scene 3: Injuns cook, Pilgrims watch football on tv. Happy Happy.
Scene 4: Big dinner. Happy Happy.
It was a somewhat merry story. However it is just a story. I hate to play 'X-gen cynic', but that's a story playing as history. I don't really think its healthy for the kids. I mean... that's not how it happened. Didn't you see Pocahontas? It quickly erases all the bad vibes history there. Now, I know the real story is not so happy happy and not as well suited to a festivity, but perhaps it should be presented as what it is, a story.
Now I feel bad. I mean, to kids, thanksgiving is the time when they collect leaves to glue to sparkly paper that they've traced their hand and drawn a turkey on. Try saying that really fast. I don't want thanksgiving to turn into a memorial day, where we mourn as we watch documentaries telling the tale of the injun's plight (narrated by the cheif from one flew over the coockoo's nest). I like it as a fiesta, but lets make it more like Christmas (the Coca-Cola holiday). Turn the story into a story, and put pilgrim faces on Pepsi cans.
Goddam it, I feel like the Grinch again.
There is no conclusion here. If you don't celebrate Thanksgiving - and some of you don't - you should start tonight. There are no presents, but there's turkey to share!
Monday, November 21, 2005
When you have nothing going on in your life, its hard to come up with things to say. A Gap year is something that I didn't so much choose as fall in to. My parents said it best: the more interests you have, the harder it is to choose something to do. This is a problem that afflicts most of our generation. School may seem like a pain in the ass, but at least it masks the real pain in the ass: getting on with life.
Although it seems like my year is falling into place, with my travelling and new job prospect, I'm still at a loss as what to do, not to mention what to write. My problem is that I have yet to find a job that I really enjoy. Isn't it like that for everyone? Making money is a burden that we have to deal with for the rest of our lives, and odds are, it'll be a job you hate. It's a depressing thought, but thats what I'm thinking right now. My dream is to be able to raise my family in much the same way I've been raised, but I look at how hard my parents work (especially in the earlier days of the company) and I just don't know if I'm up to it. Life is a pretty expensive ordeal.
Despite all these dark ponderings, at moments I feel a real excitement for what's to come. Although I don't feel it now, from time to time I'll have a great day, or a great night, and I won't be able to contain my mirth. It's all a crazy adventure, isn't it? I can't help bu think of all the great stuff that could happen, how happy I could be. I forget to be afraid of the foggy future. I don't think it's very common for someone to look back on their life and see that it turned out exactly as they had expected when they were eighteen. For me, I just hope it turns out better than I expect.
Ever get in that mood where everything has a negative tint to it? No matter what you divert your attention to, everything seems to remind you that you're a horrible person and you're going to fail at everything you ever try? I'm sure you have. That's the exact opposite of the excitement that I mentioned earlier. That's what happens to me whenever I try to think more than a year ahead. For years now I've been tormented by my future. I'm not a depressing guy usually, I just sometimes get into a state of mind that I can't get out of.
So lets forget the years to come. Live in the moment and plan just far enough ahead. I've been offered a very nice job, I'm going to travel and I've got most of my friends around me every day. It could be worse, eh?
You asked me to leave a note, so here you are. I really enjoying reading your blog and it makes me think about what is still to come for me.
Though some of what you say sounds negative, the overall conclusion that I draw, from this post, your life, and how I know you - is that you are a great guy, with great friends (me) great family (me) and great humour (assisted by me? Hmmm...) All I can say is I know that if you are "working" as a broke actor in the middle of New York, or in getting 80% of the salary of the UN (haha) you will always have people you love (me) surrounding you, and you will always be happy (as least to a certain degree.)
To sum up - I love ya Geert. And life with you is good =)
Jessica
Saturday, November 19, 2005
The cobblestones glistened at first, from an earlier shower that we had missed. The air was fresh in that way that only comes around after heavy rainfall. Perhaps it was the cleanliness of the air, or the possibility of thunder, but there was definite electricity in the air. A buzz, a sense of things to come. Walking on the streets, we saw everyone had somewhere to be. Wrapped up like freshly roasted chestnuts, scurrying on the slippery slopes of the city. Faces hidden beneath scarves and hats, eyes glancing momentarily at everyone that passes, before resuming their neutral position, staring down at the stones at their feet. Cars rushed by us, busy as the city, until we reached the street where no cars pass. This street, surrounded by a bustling city full of the sounds of insatiable movement, was the calm centre that we were seeking. Here, nobody rushed anywhere. Here, everyone was right where they wanted to be. The soundtrack of the night changed with every other step. Although we were still walking, our pace had changed. We had reached where we wanted to be, and now, instead of travelling, we were exploring. It is a rare sight when a man standing in the street is exactly where he wants to be, yet here we saw not one, but dozens of people, at peace in the zen centre of the world. Troubles washed away like stray raindrops down the hill back to the city. The high walls of brick and window surrounded us, yet we felt freer than we had in a long while. The walls were not to keep us in, but to keep the rest of the world out, the world of pain, suffering and anguish. Without warning, rain began to fall again, as if God himself had decided that he needed the streets clear in order to perform his miracles. The cobblestones that glistened only moments earlier began to sparkle, sparks flying every which way as the heavenly fairy dust fell. There were people in every doorway, under every awning, staring out and up at the countless drops that fell from the darkness. All was silent except for the constant sound of a waterfall. Slowly, the rain lessened and the magical grip that held everyone was slowly lifted. Slowly, with tentaive steps, people began to venture back into the street. Slowly, we walked away from our doorway and the moment that had passed.
My lisbon friends often tell me what a lazy cascais person I am, that I never go out to their neck of the woods. To be honest, they're pretty much completely right. I went out last night to Bairro Alto because it was a special occasion: Hugh is leaving tomorrow. I have to say, I had a great time. My main reason for not going there much before was that I don't know anyone there. What I enjoy about Cascais that I know at least one person in every place. It's cozy, or gezellik. Last night was impressive though. We spent most of the night in the same place, and I have to say they played some great music. At the peak, there were 9 of us around that one table, drinking and smoking and talking. We talked to everyone at once and one at a time. It was the most evolutionary conversation I've had in a great time. When everyone left us, Hugh pretended he was thirsty so as to have an excuse to go into one of the many gay bars in the area. My word, they are an aggressive bunch, but he and I managed to get out of there in the end, but not before both of us had received assorted criticisms on our style. It was like a portable Queer Eye episode. It was great fun.
I'm glad to say that the last conversation I ever had with Hugh was a really nice one. I'm going to miss the guy. All the sad soppy goodbye stuff has already been written, and he'll read it, so I'm not going to repeat it here. Lets just say he made the IB better.
Bon Voyage.
alf xx
Thursday, November 17, 2005
I turned to my old friend, Wikipedia, for help. This is what it had to say on the issue:
alf xx
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
My hobby of choice is Theatre. I say 'choice', but what choice do we have when it comes to our interests? What is it that makes one person a stamp collector and other a graffiti artist? I mean, this stuff has no real link to genetics. Perhaps its our differences that prove we have souls. Who knows?
In any case, I enjoy theatre. I really do. It's not my only interest, but its the most persistent. There are many times I've deviated, focusing on other interests that turned out to be fads (ie, violin, computer programming, lego mindstorms, girlfriends and homework) and therefore never lasted very long. That's not to say I didn't make some kickass computer games. But to get back to my point (again) theatre is the only interest that I've had for as long as I can remember. As much fun as I have with it, I don't think it's the best hobby to have.
Now now, you may wonder, who are you to say which hobbies are good and which are useless? I'm nobody, it's not my place, but this site is not a place of facts (like an encyclopedia)
alf xx
btw, sexi eye at the beginning and im loving your photos ;)
Monday, November 14, 2005
now i'm going to try enjoy myself as I try to describe my views on women in anything less than a body of work that would rival the Complete Oxford's Dictionary. I've never seen the Complete version, but considering the length of the Short version, it should be rather long.
Everywhere I go, I seem to meet females. on the whole, I enjoy the experience. Women, in general, are better looking than men. They claim to mature faster than men, but I think its less maturing and more losing out on the fun in life.
In my life, I've had (pause for counting) 9 official girlfriends. Of course, there were others who got close to the status of official (I can think of 2 off the top of my head), and anyway, I think 9 is enough for now. Most of my friends have maxed at 4 (or less). Now, I don't want to come across as bragging. In my thinking, it's better to have one good relationship which lasts than 9 awkward ones which crumble within weeks (or days). Why do I move so quickly from female to female (by thought, if not by deed)?
It's hard to know. I think it's mostly because of the criteria I use to select the woman of my attraction. I don't know if this is a bad thing, but I tend to go into relationships based on 'potential'. By that I mean that I will ask a girl out even if I'm not really into her, simply because they fit the vague description of someone that I might fall for. (Just in case there are any of my exes reading this, let me tell you that this wasn't the case in your case. You I liked.)
Here is a brand new edit: Let me clarify why these relationships failed: me. It was my fault, each and every time. Sorry for any insult I may have caused due to misunderstanding.
"But Geert," I hear you ask, "Surely you've felt the quiver of Cupid's bow before? Surely you're not made of stone?"
To which I reply, of course I'm not made of stone (except where it counts) . This is where our good friend irony rears its ironic head. The girls that I have trouble with are the ones who I really like. Every time I've felt the "quiver of Cupid's bow", as you so eloquently put it, I've been too chicken to do anything. And here is where the irony is even more irony-y. In the majority of cases of this type, I later find out that the girl I liked was just waiting for me to show interest. Hm. If irony was made of strawberries, we'd all be drinking a lot of smoothies right now.
But enough of my personal woman woes. What of the gender in general? Although I only have brothers, I actually have two sisters (think about it). Girls who I've known since I was but oh so ickle, and its them, acting as ambassadors for the female gender, that saved my image of that half of the population. Thanks to them (you know who you are) I know that women can be as fun and creative and intelligent as men (well, most men) and it's because of them that I'm not sexist about the weaker sex.
When I was working in Porto, one of the other workers told me a really great way to sort your mind out about women. It was the smartest thing I'd heard on the topic, but unfortunately (for you) I can't remember the phrasing.
As you can see, and as I predicted at the start of this entry, it's utterly impossible for me to speak any sense concerning the sensitive sex. To be honest, I'm completely baffled by them. Actually, now that I think of it, I have similar views about women as I do about the ocean. Despite their beauty, mystery and intruige (not to mention sex appeal), I'm utterly terrified of them. The compliment hidden in all this sexist drivel is that it's a fear based on respect. However, the respect is based solely on fear. That's because I know, first-hand, what lengths women will go to to get what they want, especially if what they want is to make someone else suffer. Unlike men, who are crude and obvious in their efforst, women can engineer the world to conspire against a person. I'm glad I'm gay.
Just kidding, Hugh.
Hughie
Sunday, November 13, 2005
this will most likely be a very short post, since it's now 7pm, and 7pm is when I'm going for dinner to a family friends. I don't know why we haven't left yet, but I'm sure the leaving will be sudden and soon.
This last couple of weeks I haven't been working much. That means plenty of time for me to hang out with my friends and plenty of time to sit in the bath, soaking in my filth, reading my books and stoned out of my mind. What I like when I'm stoned by myself is that my mind goes on a sort of over-drive, and I start thinking things a mile a minute. Odds are, this post will be somewhat random (a nod to my old haunting ground) since, being stoned, I can no longer keep my mind on one thing for longer than it takes to write a paragraph about it.
As you most probably don't know, I'm a terrific human being and I like to do things to help the world. Well, so far it's been more thinking about saving the world than actually doing much (except for my CAS stuff and my political trip to Morocco). This will soon change, if things go according to plan. I've been looking at a volunteer post teaching in Limpopo, South Africa. It looks like a really diverse adventure, allowing me to teach people who want to learn, and possibly helping in many different local projects. I'm hoping, after roughly 3 months of teaching there, to travel a bit in the country, hopefully hit the coast and fulfill my lifelong dream of swimming in an ocean teeming with big, hungry sharks.
Not really. I'm so terrified of the ocean, it's weird. I mean, I love the ocean. I live less than a kilometer from it and during the summer I spent a lot of time there. It allows for some of the most beautiful moments you can imagine. Even now, when we're nearing winter, it's wonderful to be around. Just a few weeks ago, when notTony came to visit, we went to the beach, where we climbed over rocks and through old walls to find the ultimate smoke-up spot. Guess what we did then. It was gorgeous. The sun was setting and we were sitting over a little inlet where emerald green waves were crashing. I love waves. Ever since I was a little kid (yeah, that long) I've loved going to the beach and playing chicken with the ocean. I love body-surfing, which I do whenever I'm close enough to the water and I'm known to do it till I bleed from sand-burns. Despite all this, I'm terrified of the big blue wet thing. Whenever I go far from the coast, I tend to start freaking out. I don't often head that far out, but its usually the moment that I realise that I can no longer stand that breaks the camels back for me. Truth be told, I'm not a very strong swimmer, plus being a strong smoker means I'm soon tired from my maritime exploits. I have a feral fear of drowning. I think it must be the most horrible way to go. Plus, the ocen is cold, and I'm not a huge fan of the cold.
The one good thing about the cold is that it means there are no sharks in our waters. I hope. However, the moment I step into the warmer sea in South Africa, I'm going to start having horrid images taken straight from scenes from Jaws. My fear of the ocean doesn't link to my first veiwing of the movie, but watching it just sends goosebumps down my spine, and urine down my leg.
As I said, my departure to dinner would be soon and sudden, and here it is.
Please, do pass on the rough and raunchy; this Stez is gearing up for one very long, cold and lonely winter.
This place definitely isn't Morocco, though the baths here are, admittedly, much better.
Nice to see my back is in the portfolio! Makes me feel like - well - a star.
the baths in morocco weren't that bad, so long as you repress the memories of Bouznika and think only of our nice hotel in Tiznit. Warm, rust-coloured water. 2-in-1 action, get clean and get your daily requirement of iron.
of course your back is in the photos. It's the only picture of you I have, though. I don't know what happened to my Moroccan pictures...
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Those of you that know me know that I love reading. Those that don't know me will just have to figure it out for themselves. I'm currently going through a very good reading spree, starting with Paul Auster's Book of Illusions, then a quick read of Holes by Louis Sachar, which I actually read before many years ago, then the surprisingly amazing Self, by Yann Martel (who later wrote The Life of Pi) and now I've started on another Auster book, Oracle Night, which is showing serious promise. Book of Illusions, Self, and Oracle Night are all books about writers, and for some reason I find that really interesting. Another 'writing book' that I liked was Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk.
I mention these books because recently I've started to realise my fondness for writing. I don't trust myself to write a book or a play (at least not now) so this little black page on the web will have to do. I guess my fondness for writing stems from my appreciation of the written word. I think the creativity behind a novel is staggering, and I have great respect for anyone who manages to do it (unless they're writing something like the bridges over madison county).
What I love about books is their portability. A book is usually rather small, welcome in backpacks and free to go anywhere. What really amazes me is that this small pile of glued paper is actually an enormous world to which I've been invited, should I turn the cover. People tell me that they think reading is boring, but to me, reading is what I do to keep from getting bored. What's truly boring is a 20-minute bus ride (or worse, a 40-minute train ride) without anything to do. Of course, with the PSP breaking sales records around the world, soon portable cinema will be a reality (though I can't imagine anyone who would spend €25 on a movie that can only be watched on a 4.3inch screen) but cinema can't compete with literature. Sure, it competes in profit, popularity and status, but in my opinion, films lack the subtlety of the written word. When I was reading Book of Illusions, I started picturing it as a movie (which was appropriate since the book is about a film-maker), trying to think about how sequences would be done, but there's so much on each page that can't make it to the screen. Every meander of the narrators mind would be impossible to show on film (at least not in an interesting way) and each vague description would have to be transformed into something tangible. Reading is a very personal activity, since everything imagined exists only in the mind of the reader, and I think that movies take that soul out of the story.
However, despite these anti-film ramblings, I love movies. A short visit to my house would be enough to prove that (piles of DVDs everywhere that counts) and a short conversation with me would imprint it on your mind. Movies are a very different medium than books, and so are used with different intents. There are things that movies can do that books can't, and they too are very subtle. My favorite one to look out for is the soundtrack. Some people don't acknowledge the impact that a good soundtrack has on a movie. The right song, with the right images to go with it, are usually what get the viewers reaching for the Kleenex.
I don't know. I began this post talking about how books are better than films, but now I find myself going back on what I said and promoting movies. Truth be told, I love books and I love movies, and each have different ways of reaching people (or simply entertaining them) but I have a special thing for reading. I guess I kinda like the underdog.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
i have found that i have rather an unfortunate habit. no, i'm not talking about the smoking, or the drugs, or the drinking, or my blatant disregard for other human beings. the habit of which i speak is my habit to suddenly abandon blogs of mine. with these lines, i'm inaugurating my third blog. I start each in a burst of motivation and energy, because i truly like writing, despite the endless dead counters and commentless posts. Each ends when i feel like moving on. The ends mark significant shifts in my life, be it small and personal, or obvious enough to be labeled as shifts of paradigms.
This one begins at the beginning of the winter of my discontent. I graduated nearly 6 months ago, and since have been facing the real world of the unplanned gap year. Unplanned not because I didn't expect it (I didn't know what else to do) but because I didn't really think about what I would do with the next 15 months. That's why it hasn't really amounted to anything yet. The summer was fantastic, I spent the entire time surrounded by people, in a number of different countries, and it made me very optimistic about the future. Then I had to get a job. Apart from the occasional random job, I've been working for a construction company owned by my parents, and I've worked in Porto, Covilha and right here in Cascais, doing random buildy-type stuff. It's been an experience. I do have the rare privelidge to be able to say that I helped build my home (my new home, as yet unfinished), and that I managed to drill my thumb in the process.
Big Deal of the Month so far was when I got my multibanco card. Actually, its a Super Cartao Jovem, which means that, alongside the multibanco features, I can cash in on all kinds of discounts (though I'll probably only use it at the cinema). Within an hour of getting the card, I managed to take €100 off the account... which sort of alarmed me. I'm very good at spending, you see. I feel sorry for my future wife and kids. Despite my reckless spending (as in to spend without reck) I saw that it hadn't really hit the account yet, so I feel alright. Also, I'm due to pick up a check (with my name on it) which should feel nice to spend.
What can you expect from this new site? I don't rightly know. Some of the old stuff, I'm sure, as well as, I hope, an older and wiser me. I'm not sure how much of the rough and raunchy stuff I get up to will make it to these pages, since my parents have been showing increased interest in my affairs (and the fact that so much of my affairs are rough and raunchy). I'm sure a bunch will leak in, anyway. My last blog ended with the end of highschool, and this one, I hope, begins with the start of my life.