Coffee, Cigars and Oranges

Oh hey, how are you doing? I am fine. It is Friday, and I do not have anything to do. I am the most lame college student ever.

I did not sleep very well last night and had some very weird dreams, ending up on the floor at several points with some pains in my back to remind me, in case I later forgot. I ended up sleeping until 10, which by some coincidence was the exact time when my first class began. I hurriedly made myself smell nice and my ukulele and I made our way to class. When I arrived, I found that I was the only one there. I searched for my group, and eventually found them in a creepy little practice room that was perfect for Nate Hardy dancing. I am the only male in my group, and maybe this is a stereotype, but I happen not to like being in the middle of the female gossip and when I found out that uniform purple shirts were already in production for our final performance, I was not best pleased. The pan pipes we made last Sunday seemed to work just fine though, and after an hour we had some sort of musical concoction brewing. It was overall a satisfactory activity.

After my class, I went to pick classes. I suggested management as a possible major, and so I am taking management 101, Brazilian music, and geography 101. I still have one more to choose, but it has to be on Thursday morning between the hours of 8 and 12. Anyway, I also found out that I had gotten the credit from the continuing ed program that I failed in high school, so I am one class up from where I would otherwise have been.

Anyway.. What else.... Indeed, why not a section about books to make myself seem intelligent?

If you are ever in a book store and you see any of the works of the French author Voltaire, I would advise you strongly against buying them. Not only was Voltaire French, but he also wrote some pretty miserable books. It seems, and some might call his work brilliant because apparently he was trying to give examples of how ultimately Optimism is stupid, and other such ideas of the enlightenment thinkers, but too me his work is mildly unpleasant. If some books are French and all books are books, then all books must be bad.... And French. However, it would seem that not all books are bad, and my recent experience with a G.K. Chesterton anthology proved this, at least to me. How could someone who lived before some bastard invented saturated fats and cholesterol, write in such a way that would still be funny and relevant today?

Well, It is time to say goodbye, but before I do I would like to tell you how fun clearing brush with a machete can be, which is mildly pleasant for the first few minutes. After that, your chopping arm cramps up and makes it hard to play the ukulele.

Have a wonderful evening on the best of all possible Friday the 11th's..