So much time, so little to do

Wait. Strike that. Reverse it. Until today I've always attempted to invest a fair amount of time to my blog writing. I wanted all my posts to be somewhat witty, somewhat interesting, and somewhat well written. I am somewhat giving up on that goal today. There is just too much to do that--gasp--takes priority over blogging. Trust me, I would immensely prefer writing a good blog entry over writing a good paper for my history class, but I don't get to make those kind of decisions. Homework is my slave driver and I do as I'm told. So I appologise to all my avid readers, because I know I'm just so popular. Speaking of which, I'd just like to give a shout out to you. Yes, you. Thanks for reading my blog. That whole "I'm so popular" comment was supposed to be sarcastic, but thanks to you my pointless ramblings aren't published for naught. What a tragedy it would be to put so much time and effort into writing, only for the fruits of my labors to rot away as a miniscule string of binary code tucked into the deepest darkest corner of cyberspace. Man, I feel bad for all the "Terms and Conditions" authors now. No one ever reads their work, and they got college degrees to write that stuff! Maybe we should all think about that next time before skipping to I Accept.

Anyways, it's interesting to see where I end up after starting with no purpose, theme, subject, goal, or other form of direction to my writing. I'm really not that sympathetic for authors of legal jargon - their own life decisions landed them that job. But I really am grateful for those who read my blog. You make me feel like I'm somewhat loved...or like my writing is a somewhat better time waster than twittling your thumbs... or like I'm being somewhat stalked. In any case, you get three gold stars. And keep track of those, they're valuable. 500 gold stars get you a really sweet prize like a sticky hand. Or if you're really ambitious you can save up 1,000 platinum stars (worth 10 gold stars each) and get a giant stuffed platypus. Now, I better stop writing before this stream of conscience stuff spirals too far out of control.

The End

p.s. 10 platinum stars go out to Kylie, Stephanie, and Cassidy for being the greatest fans ever at my tennis match. In the words of Eeyore the Donkey, "thanks for noticing me."

There is such thing as a free shirt

There are many wonderful things that make life worth living. You all know the standard list: raindrops on roses, wiskers on kittens, etc. Well I've recently added to that list. Free t-shirts. And there's no better place to collect them than right here at BYU. So this week my quest for free shirts began in two ways.


1. Intramural sports. Although the high school glory days of varsity sports are long gone, there are tons of opportunities to play competitively on campus. I've joined a soccer team and a tennis tournament. Yeah, it's great fun to get out and play the sports I loved so much in high school; to have good, wholesome, sportsmanlike competition; and to burn off all the free donuts and ice cream I downed at the last ward social. But let's not kid ourselves - those aren't the reasons you play intramurals. The ultimate goal? Win the most coveted free T shirt on campus: Intramural Champion 2009.

Unfortunately, getting the intramural champion shirt has one tricky catch. You have to win. So I've found another way to reach my goal of T shirt acquisition.

2. Participate in school-sponsored causes. My econ 110 professor claims that nothing is really free. The saying goes, "there's no such thing as a free lunch." While in theory that may be true, in reality I was recently fed a delicious lunch of cookies and juice and didn't pay a cent. Another thing I didn't pay for is the shirt I'm wearing - I Bleed True Blue. So what if I had to invest an hour of my Thursday and donate a pint of myself to the blood bank? Those things don't come out of my bank account.

Now, I know what you're thinking - how can an afternoon possibly get any sweeter than a free lunch that comes with a free shirt, right? Well how about two free shirts! It's like getting two toys with your happy meal, just when you thought it couldn't get any happier. And for the second, all I had to do was fumble around campus blind for a while. Some people may think it's a bad idea to wear tunnel-vision goggles for two hours while already on the verge of fainting from blood loss. Well it's those same people who will never truly appreciate what it must be like for someone with tunnel vision to donate blood. Thanks to Disability Awareness Week and the blood drive going on simultaneously, I was able to experience just that. . . and get two free shirts.

Flushing Meadows

I'm addicted. But at least I'm past the denial stage. Though born as a mere curiosity, my obsession now thrives because I feed it daily. "Just a few more minutes!" and "one last game!" are the most common among numerous justifications to remain planted in front of the TV. Eventually the responsible student inside me builds up enough courage to raise his hand, eager to make a statement. Somewhat annoyed, I oblige, and the mental struggle begins.

I don't know what it is about watching tennis that gives me such a high. I'm usually against TV. Honest. But when ESPN2 has 10 hours daily coverage of a grand slam tournament, it's a sin to not watch. The curiosity begins weeks before the draws are announced. Warm-up tournaments that take place not only give me a sneek peek at who's hot and who's not, but also get me stoked to watch the live drama on the courts in Flushing Meadows, New York. By the time day 1 arrives, I'm already hooked on tennis. I can't stop watching.

My conscience commences its lecture on responsibility and time management, utilizing sound logic and sensible encouragement to guilt-trip me into being more productive. Inevitably, the day's reading assignments creep into the debate and my addiction begins to succumb to reason. I call up item 1 on my mental to-do list and reluctantly reach for the remote. However, like a drowsy infant being carried to its crib, my obsession is suddenly aware of the threat and leaps into action. A swift backhand to the rear of reason and responsibility sends my conscience sprawling out of the picture. I've got to get my fix.


p.s. I'm not much of a "status update" or "twitter" kind of guy, but this is important:
I'm grabbing my favorite blue bowl, filling it with Honey Nut Toasted Oats, and claiming the right side of the couch. Don't bug me for the next couple hours - The Gonzalez vs. Nadal match just started.

So long sweet summer

School started yesterday - my first real semester since Fall of '06. Sure, I've been taking classes the past four months, and before yesterday I would have naively classified those summer studies as serious schooling. Then yesterday struck like a bucket of cold water to the face. My mind is still reeling from the onslaught of syllabi. Five seperate documents fully equipped with intense course requirements, fast-paced schedules, rigorous grading scales, and papers due more often than I call my mom. At least my professors are honest: "You'll need to sell your soul to Satan himself if you want to earn an A in my course." Okay, so they probably didn't quite word it that way, but that's all I got down in my notes. I think the weeks when I have four exams and 3 papers due at once are when I'll long most for the good old days of my 6-credit-hour summer.

Here goes...

I am kind of curious about this blogging thing - not sure yet if I'll like it. I have always enjoyed creative writing, but never thought I'd be joining the ranks of all you dilligent authors. In fact I'll admit that before yesterday I was numbered among the prideful disbelievers, not willing to unite with the faithful bloggers who so selflessly share their thoughts with the world. Yet deep down, I have always secretly enjoyed reading up on others' small feats and adventures, current relationship status, and latest philosophical trains of thought. How selfish it has been to read your trivial tales of humorous goings-on while keeping my own so secretly filed away. So what finally converted me, you might ask? Well I won't go so far as to say I'm converted. I'm no born again blogger and I still have my doubts. But I'm giving it a shot. Honestly the only thing that got me started is my MCom 320 class. A weekly post is part of my grade. Although starting out I am somewhat skeptical, the wise counsel of Sam-I-Am comes to mind: "You may not like it, so you say. Try it. Try it and you may. Try it and you may, I say."

Shayne Clarke (with a 'y'), this blog is dedicated to you - the man who made me try it. So here goes...