I have a confession to make. I have an acoustic guitar, and I play it. I've considered writing love songs in an effort to get laid. I am the most obnoxious kind of douchebag. But that's cool, because you already knew that. Unfortunately, I'm like the vast majority of "America's Got Talent" and "American Idol;" I can't sing worth a flip. Despite seven years of school band, nearly a decade of guitar playing and another handful of years playing piano, I couldn't move a pile of tune with a front-end loader. It's embarrassing. That said, so is my guitar playing. I wonder if the two are related. Have no fear ladies, even if I fix the other two, I'll never figure out poetry. I'm not completely sure if women or iambic pentameter create more nausea.
As I posted on Twitter, when I actually sit down to write pieces for your consumption, I can't get anything to come out. I have a writing version of prostate cancer. If I have no way of making a record of my thoughts, such as while driving around, words flow. Beautiful words no less, unburdened by the misery I wield across this tongue. I can cover a few thousand words worth of joy and happiness in a 30 minute drive. Were I to scribe perched stop my saddle, this would be the "Unicorns'n'Glitter present Happy, Happy, Happy Fun Times, Bliss and Pleasure!" blog. God, that's a nauseating thought. The background would have to be pink, with glittery buttons. Let's all go take a break and go vomit.
World's fastest race summary: The TCRC Omnium was miserable. I sucked out loud both days.
I find it hard to believe that with all the opportunities presented by Colorado's Front Range that only ONE school offers a Master's degree in Exercise Science. Are you serious?! The bloody Olympic training center is RIGHT THERE! How do you not have professors with even a modicum of interest in athletic superiority?! My dreams are being quashed slowly, and agonizingly. Now I have to find another escape plan. That said, it would appear that I'm leashed to the East Coast for another two years (assumptive I get in to either of my other choice schools). That number could double, too.
I'm a very cold-adapted person. I hang on to heat easily. I'm know that's a remnant of being fat for 20-something years. Oh, and the fact that all my ancestors are from Northern Europe, that is of some importance, too. "Now what is he blabbering about?" I hear you asking, vitriol dribbling from your lips. It's hot outside, and I'm dying here, people. The average temperature the last two weeks has been right about a billion Celsius. I can walk from my front door to my car, approximately 3 meters, and I'll soak a cotton shirt. Agony.
Before my first two summer classes ended, one of my classmates raised the point that we're halfway though 2011. He then claimed that when asked what they'd done in six months, most people will instinctively say "Nothin'." I think that's crap. I couldn't give you a day-by-day, or hour-by-hour recap of what I've done this year, however I could do a pretty good job. I sucked at the state championship in January. I earned another 15 credit hours all spring. I spent so many weekends in South Carolina that I should apply for residency during February and March. Why was I there? Because I was sucking, out loud, in road races. I had a great mountain bike race in May. The road trip to get there was pretty fun, too. You must really suck if "nothing" is your answer.
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