Hiatus: Part 1

'Tis the season, is it not?  The season for giving, the season for being a generally nicer person, the season for presents, the season for family, and, the season for blogging (but not really; I just made that up).  Yeah, I know.  It's been forever and a day since I've written one of these bad boys.  I actually had friends chastise me on a day to day basis for not getting back into the swing of things, as far as blogging is concerned.  Really, what in the hell is that all about?  Are these really that entertaining?  Do you people have nothing better to do with your lives than to sit and listen to the ramblings of a cynical 19 year old?  I don't think I'm THAT hilariou-  Oh who am I kidding.  Yes I do.

As I sit here in my overstuffed leather recliner here in good ol' Vale, Oregon, I can't help but think about what has gone down in the course of my first term of being a Sophomore at Oregon State University.  In summation: it was full of misery and suffering of a hellish caliber.  We'll get back to that in a moment, however.  I'm going to dwell on how awesome winter vacation is.  I haven't done a single productive thing since I've been home, and it's been utterly marvelous.  You know that boredom you get when you're left alone in a house for days on end?  Oh yeah.  I have that.  AND I'M RELISHING EVERY SECOND OF IT.  I think I've worn the same clothes for the better part of four days (pj's, of course).  I can't help but think that this is what vacation truly is all about.  Well; and if that's the case, CALAN APPROVES.

Anyway, back to school related things.  Well!  The term started out with such promise.  I was bright eyed, and full of a vitality never before seen in that of a Chemical Engineering student.  I was going to see it all and do it all by God, and nobody was going to stop me.  I had an awesome place I called home, with my best friend in tow.  I had two other amazing roommates, as well as some pretty hella cool interior decor.  I had just started a job that I knew I was going to love, my classes were all refreshingly challenging...  By God, I had the life.

Needless to say, it all went to shit.  Oh!  Except for the interior decor.  It's still pretty badass.

We'll start with the scholastic aspect.  My first week of classes were so mundane.  With a schedule of Organic Chemistry, Matrix and Power Series (math), Physics with Calculus II, Material Balances/Stoichiometry (engineering), Health, and Ballroom II, it was set to be a pretty simplistic term (end of incredibly blatant sarcasm).  And then, suddenly, week two came around, and college got REALLY HARD.

I don't understand.  Who said college was going to be so incredibly difficult!?  Nobody.  Not a SINGLE PERSON told me that I was going to have to work my ass off.  I means, SURE I knew I was going to actually have to apply myself for a change...  But my GOD!  These classes were insane!!  Well, save for Chemistry.  I skipped about...  Nearly all of my classes and still walked away with an A.  But that's besides the point.  Physics?  BLECH.  Math?  SUPER BLECH.  Health and Ballroom?  Well...  I'm going to count those as irrelevant.

But Engineering...  Engineering, I tell you, took the cake.  I found myself completely lost.  You know that moment when you're sitting in church (for those of you who attend), and you suddenly have NO IDEA as to what's going on?  I mean, it could be the most interesting sermon in the world but your mind just starts to wander because it's so damn warm in that room and the pastor has such a lulling voice and then...  Whoa hey I have no idea WHAT you're talking about!!  ....  Or maybe that's just me.  Hmmm...  Anyway, yeah.  That's how engineering was for me.  I realized, out of the blue, that I hadn't the foggiest idea as to what in the hell was going on.  With ANYTHING.  Can you imagine trying to do 10 page long homework assignments on concepts you don't understand?  Fun stuff.

I pushed it aside, however, and thought to myself, "You know what, Calan?  Just push through.  You can do this.  With a little bit of studying and extra effort, you can do anything!!"  I was as cliche as all get up, and was pretty much exhuming optimism to an unhealthy degree.  I walked into my first engineering midterm with my head held high and my chest thrust out in full confidence.

I walked out with a 40%.

40%

For those of you who aren't very academically inclined, this means I FAILED REALLY HARD.  There's failing, and then there's super failing.  And then there's Calan's engineering grade.  Am I being slightly melodramatic?  Duh.  I'm always melodramatic.  But that's besides the point. For someone who was used to getting good grades, this was a slap to the face.  And then a kick to the shins.  And then a curb stomp.  It was bad news bears, to say the least.  As I sat there balking at my appalling grade, it finally hit me.  I hated engineering.  What in the hell was I doing?  Not only was the subject matter painfully dull, but I clearly was completely inept at it.  I was then supposed to spend the next, well, rest of my life doing nothing but this type of material!?  OVER MY TWIG-LIKE BODY!  ...  Wait...

Anyway, I made a stand right then and there.  The very next day, I called up the College of Pharmacy, and said "BY GOD, SCHEDULE ME AN APPOINTMENT!"  And they did.  I registered for classes as a Pre-Pharmacy major.  I realized that I was looking at the Chemistry/Biology combo job all wrong.  You don't get there by engineering, as it's all math and physics; of which, I abhor.  You get there through making crystal meth in a sketchy at-home pharmacy the pharmaceutical program at OSU.

I immediately dropped my engineering class.  I then turned around and changed the grading scheme on my math class to pass/fail.  Best two decisions I've made in my entire life.  Already, I was unequivocally happier.  I floated through the rest of the term academically, and managed to get extraordinarily good grades.  Calan = very pleased.

---

The other reason regarding the suckiness of my term is actually just sad.  No real witty stories, or snarky quips to say about it.  I had a falling out with my best friend, of which, is never really fun.  That, and I had a lot of stress about issues regarding one of my other roommates.  It was just a lot of bad drama that didn't need to be there.  It was seriously like a venomous bile that depressed everyone it touched.  Yuck.

So that's that.  Moving on.

---

I'm done talking about the miserable aspects to my term.  For all of the bad shit that went down, there were PLENTY of good attributes that came of it.  For instance, my job!

A little backstory.  I got hired this summer as a Study Facilitator for Academics for Student Athletes.  So really, I was a glorified athlete tutor.  My job, is to sit at a table with 6-7 student athletes for two hours at a time, Monday through Thursday, and assist them in whatever they may need help with.  Whether it be their actual homework, getting registered for class, etc.; I was there to facilitate a good study environment.  I'll tell you what, though:  I.  Love.  My.  Job.

Seriously.  I love it so much.  I derive no greater joy than to watch my students succeed at what they do, and watch them flourish as individuals.  Does this sound incredibly sappy/sentimental?  Yeah.  Does this instantly flag me as teacher material?  You bet your ass.  However, my parents put their metaphorical feet down on that idea RIGHT QUICK.  Apparently, I'm destined for a greater profession than sitting behind a desk in some high school screaming Chemistry at kids.  COUNTING TYLENOL IN A BI-MART IS FAR BETTER.  Digressing...  Anyway, I had a Monday/Wednesday group, and a Tuesday/Thursday group.  Both of them were full of spectacular kids; all freshman (save for one sophomore) who didn't have the "I'm a badass athlete douchebag" mentality (thank God).  If any my athletes are reading this, just know that I couldn't be any more proud of you than I already am.

Anyway.  Brian, one of my students (a wrestler), turned out to be in my Organic Chemistry class.  It also turned out we knew each other prior to study hall.

STORY WITHIN A STORY TIME (storyception)!  Last year in the dorms, I had a good friend, Karli.  Karli lived in Poling, and invited me over to visit one day.  I came over, and she introduced me to all of her friends in the dorms; one of them being Brian.  From that day on, we were those awkward collegiate acquaintances.  THE WORST KIND.  You know what I'm talking about.  Those people you kind of half knew; not well enough to engage them in great conversation, but they weren't total strangers to the point where you could ignore their very existence.  We went on with life like that for a while, until we were forced to be lab partners in our gen chem class.  At that point, we had upgraded to "person of whom I'd talk to if I didn't know a single other soul in the room" status.  Moving up in the world, I'd say.

Fast forward to our first day of O-chem.  I found him standing outside our lecture hall, so I casually went up to make good conversation.  It included a lot of "dude's" and "man" because frankly, after an entire summer, I had no idea what in the hell his name was.  And, it was about to become painfully obvious that he didn't know mine either.

Our first night of Study Hall, he sees me sitting at my table, and comes over to say hi.  "Hey, dude!!  How's it going!"  He excitedly proclaimed.  "Oh, it's going just great, pal!  What are you doing here?!"  I questioned.  "Well, I'm in study hall!  I'm looking for my facilitator...  Do you know where Calan (pronounced cal-an) is?"

...

"Yeah, Brian, I do.  That would be me."  I...  I just couldn't believe what had just happened.  Sure as shit, I look down at my roster sheet, and there's Brian's name slapped right at the top.  The moment had just reached a new level of awkward.  "OH MY GOD!!!  ARE YOU SERIOUS!?"  He shouted before roaring with laughter.  "I thought, for the longest time, that your name was Daniel!"

I honestly had no idea how to respond.  I just laughed really hard for a while, and life went on from there.  We actually became very fast friends, and worked up one hell of a Super Smash Bros rivalry.  He beats me sometimes (.1%), and I destroy him others (99.9%).  Good times.

Tidbits

So I came to a conclusion as to why I've been hardly blogging this summer, and it's due in part to a couple of reasons.  One.  I've been out and about doing my own thing, and just have lacked the desire to sit at a computer and entertain people.  Two.  Nothing too exciting has happened this summer.  And three; the most predominate reason...  I haven't had enough encounters with society to make me feel cynical enough to sit down and blog out my anger and spite at the world in the form of hilariously endearing life stories.

Strange, I know, but it's the truth.

I must forewarn you however, this blog post is going to be slightly...  Sporadic.  And short.  My mind right now is having difficulty keeping to single coherent thoughts that are long and elaborate, so what you're in for on this particular reading is snippits of my thought process on two issues that plague America today.  Both of them chalk full of the wonderful sarcasm that everybody has grown to love.  Or at least tolerate.

---

I had the displeasure this morning to sit down and watch ten minutes of "The Hills" with Jocelyn and Emily.  For those of you who are privileged enough to not know what this show is about, let me enlighten you.  It is a show about people in L.A. that think they have the worst lives in the world because daddy didn't buy them their fourth nose job for that particular year.  Am I over exaggerating?  Yea-  No.  I'm not.  The drama.  The deceit.  The HATRED all because Heidi spread those HORRID rumors about Lauren that are just NOT OKAY!!


...  Ten minutes.  That's all I could do before I literally wanted to claw my eyes out.  I mean, sure.  I can understand why people would want to watch this sort of thing.  It's the same reason as to why I sit there on Facebook for hours on end and read every bit of drama that flits through the lives of people I know back home.  Well, a lot of people I know back home, actually.  That's why I'm on Facebook all of the time.  I find it hilariously amusing.  Drama is like a drug; it's addicting.

AT ANY RATE.  The difference between Facebook and TV is the fact that on Facebook, I realize it's just people trying to desperately seek attention from their friends (all the while, continuing to be even more secretive and vague.  You know what I'm talking about.  "I'M SO UPSET RIGHT NOW BUT DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT IT OKAY?")  But on television, these people are actually getting paid.  GETTING. PAID.  To be pathetic!  What the hell!!?  I could be a billion times more melodramatic than those people!!  Why don't I have my own reality TV show on MTV!?

Oh wait.  That's right, because I'm going to publish all of these blog posts and get a book going.  Silly me.

It's shows like that, and Jersey Shore that make me weep for humanity.  To think that there are people out there that are making millions for simply being...  Well...  MORONIC is unsettling.  But that's just me.  And I'm not the only one who thinks that.  Yeah, I'm about 1,983,209th on the list of people who have angrily blogged about this sort of thing, but whatevs.

You know what, no.  I'm going to grow up and be just like Snooki someday, JUST YOU WAIT.

---

This is actually a rather nice segway into another issue that has been on the backburners as of late.

Vaguebooking.

It's an issue that's plaguing everything that I hold dear in life.  Yes, it's threatening, at its very core, Facebook. I find that when it comes to Facebooking, there is a right and a wrong way to do it.  Facebook was created to network with your friends, and to keep them updated on your life.  That's great!  That's what social networks should be used for.  Examples of this being okay, are maybe every once in a while letting your friends know that you're going to do something awesome, or bring up the fact that you are about to embark on something interesting.  The antithesis to this would be letting people know you're going outside.  Or you're going to sleep.

Gee.  Thanks.  Now that my worried mind has been put to rest, I can sleep well knowing that it is FINALLY your bed time.

That's me being nitpicky, however, and it's only my personal thoughts.  Which is why I am writing them down.  In my blog.  Agree with me or not, it's simply how I feel on the issue.  However, the more pressing flaw with people on Facebook, is like I had aforementioned....  Vaguebooking.

We all know the statuses.  "I just don't know about life anymore..."  "FINE, BE THAT WAY, YOU STUPID BITCH!!  HE LIKES ME MORE ANYWAY!!"  "I just need to go for a drive to clear my head...  Things are just so hard right now..."  Now don't get me wrong.  Like everything else, some things are fine in moderation.  Why, I myself even vaguebooked once.

GASP!


I know, I know.  It's not something I'm too incredibly proud of, but sometimes one just needs to vent to the world, and that's completely understandable.  What ISN'T understandable, is doing the same types of statuses day in and day out.  EVERY.  SINGLE.  POST.  I just....  I don't understand!  No really; I don't.  The nature of the vague status is to be so opaque that nobody can understand...  But that's beside the point.  What further kills me off, is when people finally cave and ask what's wrong, the poster usually (nine times out of ten) just doesn't want to talk about it.  Or the request that the person message or text them, because they simply don't want to say.

Why then.  WHY would you post it for the world to see on Facebook?  It's a correlation I just can't wrap my mind around.

I see vaguebooking as an issue that is threatening our very way of life.  It's like a virus.  Well, that and the desire to take camera phone/mirror pictures.  SERIOUSLY.  WHY WOULD YOU TAKE THOSE.  HAVE SOMEONE TAKE YOUR PICTURE.  Alright.  Got that out of my system.  Moving on.  Actually, I'm not done.  It's actually quite impressive the way that some girls bend and contort themselves to get the perfect mirror pic.  The duck lips have to be JUST RIGHT.  The cleavage has to be the perfect length.  And so on and so forth.  They do all of this while angling a camera at a mirror!  In all honesty, it's impressive!


Alright.  Now I'm done.  Sorry for the tangential thought.

Like all issues, however, I feel as though awareness needs to be raised.  That's why, I feel it prudent to start a "Vaguebooking Awareness Week."  During this particular week, every Facebook status must be as vague and whiny as possible.  Hopefully, it will jar people out of the trance they are in, and make them realize just how ridiculous their daily drama sounds to the rest of the world.

---

Gee.  In retrospect, this blog post has been rather...  Well...  Pointedly spiteful.  Ah well, such is my mood right now.  What can you do.  This being the shortest of my blog posts thus far, it's really only something to tie people over until I get in a good writing mood.  I don't know why, but the mood has eluded me as of late; and for that I apologize.

Never fear though, dedicated readers.  Soon.  SOON I will get back into blogging regularly, and all will be well with the world.  In the mean time, however, I'll leave you with this sign off.

Calan Eyler:  Speaking the truth since 1992.

College: Part 3

Sigh....  My deepest apologies, devoted readers.  It's been far too long in between posts.  This is entirely my fault, yes, I admit.  I'm sure none of you actually care to know the reason as to why I've been out of commission, but I'll tell you anyway.  It's an amalgamation of two key reasons.  One, I've been horridly busy.  Between work, traveling, and simply having a social life, my life has been all too hectic to actually sit down and crank out an amazingly witty blog post.  The second reason, is that I have to be in a certain mood to make a good blog post.  Hell, the only reason most of you are reading is because I infuse all of my stories with my trademark cynicism and sarcasm.  And if I didn't have that, what would be left?  A hilariously outrageous story?  As if.  At any rate, I'll cease with the formalities and get right to the juice: three of my favorite memories of Spring term at OSU.

---

When in college, there is a plethora of different activities that one can partake in to keep them occupied.  For the most part, that's drinking and partying.  Yeah, it's a stigma associated with the whole collegiate atmosphere, and I must admit, it's pretty damn accurate.  Now that isn't to say that it is the ONLY way to have fun.  No, my friends and I seek out other creative means to bide our time when we aren't slamming our faces against the walls in utter frustration from school work.  We'll go out to eat, sit in and watch movies, or play games.  Board games, video games, you name it; we do it.

Now I can't remember when EXACTLY, but one night during the school year, my dear friend Oliver brought over a board game called "Loaded Questions."  For those of you who don't know the game, it goes a little something like this.  Everybody gets a piece of paper and a pencil.  One person rolls, and then has to draw a card with a question on it.  Let's say the question is "Where would you want to honeymoon most?"  Everybody would write down an answer to the question (save for the person who read the question) and give their answers to the person who went BEFORE the person who rolled.  This person would then read all of the answers aloud, and the person who rolled would have to guess who said what.  It can be pretty hilarious, some of the conversations that arise from thinking who said what.

But I digress.  Oliver brought this game over, and one night, we all finally played it; a close group of my friends.  It all started innocently enough...  And then, for some reason, things took a turn for the... Perverse.  For some reason, it was as though a switch was flipped in all of our heads, and our answers to the most simple of questions were the most horrifically twisted and sexually charged answers you could possibly think of.  Of course, this led to us roaring with laughter at every single answer written.  It was utterly hysterical, to say the least.  Once we had finished, we had to give the game back to Oliver (as it wasn't actually his) and that was that.  One of the best games I'd ever played.

At this point, I'm sure you're thinking...  "That's IT??  THAT'S your hilarious story?"  No, is the answer to that question.

It gets better.

After that night, I didn't really pay loaded questions much thought.  We did other stuff, and it was kind of like a distant memory of awesomeness.  At this point, my birthday was quickly approaching, and I was really excited.  My friends kept telling me that they they had gotten me pretty awesome gifts, and being the greedy bastard I am, I couldn't wait to see what they were.  My friends Mackenzie and Virinda in particular were really excited about GIVING me their gift, of which they went in on together.  I could hardly contain myself.

Well, when April 19th came along, I, without hesitation, tore into my presents as they were given to me.  Talo got me an awesome piano book with all sorts of Disney songs, Amelia got me a shirt, Corey and Alex both got me Glee DVDs, and Mackenzie and Virinda got me Loaded Questions: The Adult Version.

Loaded Questions: The Adult Version.


OH MY GOD YES.


I couldn't believe my eyes.  This was quite possibly going to be the most fun I've ever had EVER.  Mackenzie thought this game was a great idea.  Virinda did too, but she had no clue as to the Pandora's Box she just opened.  If we were twisted and sexual playing loaded questions the REGULAR version, just think how bad we'd be playing the Adult version!!  Oh the possibilities were endless.

So...  We played this game many a time over the course of the term.  Whenever we had friends come visit, it was always "WE'RE PLAYING LOADED QUESTIONS."  It was a wonderful way for our visiting friends to meet everybody in our group.  Errr...  Well, maybe not so much wonderful as traumatizing...  But potato, potahto, right?  However, my favorite instance came later in the term.

My friend Connor was visiting, and if anybody could rival me in sexual innuendo, it's him.  I had to impress Connor, and get the largest possible group I could think of to play this horrid, horrid game.  In the end, we all sat down to play.  Me, my friends Charles, Talo, Amelia, Alex, Oliver, Mackenzie, Virinda, and finally, Connor.

Now...  I would share with you the full details of the evening.  I would, really.  But seeing as how I have people of all sorts reading this, I don't think it would be in the best interest of my eternal soul to be saying what really happened that night.  After all, I don't want some kid to come along, read this, and have them go up to their parents asking exactly "What's a blowjob and how do I get one?"  That being said, I will share with you some of the questions we were asked.  Oh hell, and maybe some answers.  I recall "fisting a horse" to be one answer.  "J'ing my D" to be another.  "Playing the 1812 overture at climax" happened to be one of my favorites.  Some questions...  "If you could create a sexual olympics event, what would YOU create?"  "What book title could be used as the name of a porno?"  And etc.  You can attempt to use your imagination to come up with answers, but I'll bet you anything you have nothing on us.

Sweet, SWEET Virinda decided to answer the following question, "What political issue fires you up most?" with this "beauty."  "I believe that gays should have the right to marry.  Calan and Oliver deserve to be happy together."

Ha, ha, ha, Virinda.  We're all laughing.

---

As Memorial Day approached, I realized the bind I was going to be in.  Well, not necessarily a bind per say, but a disadvantage.  All of my friends were going home for the weekend, and I was going to be left all by myself.  At the time, I was kinda sad.  I mean, all of my friends got to have their families feed them as I sat and ate the billionth Callabaloo's burger for that term.  But I was being negative.  I had to look at this in a positive light.  I was going to have my room ALL TO MYSELF for an entire weekend, as Talo was going home.  Hey, there we go!!  I could sit in my room in my sleeping attire all day long and play video games while eating junk food!  On second thought, this weekend was going to rock.

On my way home from my final class on Friday, I called Mackenzie to see if she wanted to go grab some food before she left.  To my dismay, she was practically headed out the door to leave with her mom.  However, she informed me that her mom would LOVE to see me and say hi, and that I should meet her in the lobby of our dorm.

Ten minutes later, I found myself stuffed in her car on my way to Troutdale.  I don't even know how; it all happened so fast (that's what she said).  All I knew was that her mom extended me the invite of coming over, and that she would feed me.  That's all it took.

But you already all know this.  I gave you some insight to my Troutdale trip when I talked about my uhh...  Interesting experience with the people of Cascade Locks.  This however, is a different story altogether.  On our way up to Troutdale, Mackenzie's mom Jodi asked me if it would be fine by me to go with them to their church service on Sunday.  "Oh sure, that's fine!"  I responded jovially.  After all, I thoroughly enjoy attending church services that aren't of my own denomination.  I find it fascinating, personally.  I realized that it wasn't going to be tragically different, as they were simply non-denominational Christian as opposed to my Catholicism.

Boy was I in for a treat.

Sunday came, and I found myself on the "New Beginnings" complex.  And that's exactly what it was.  A complex.  It was this massive building with pretty much everything you could possibly think of.  I was a little overwhelmed, coming from my single room Catholic chapel to say the LEAST.  I put on my brave face though, and Mackenzie and I went into the auditorium for the main service.

It started with the singing.  There was a Christian rock group playing up on the stage, and doing a great job.  People in the audience were getting really into it.  They had their hands all up in the air with their eyes closed; swaying back and forth as they felt the power of the Lord course through their very VEINS!  Me, I just sat there and swayed and mouthed along, as I was getting glares for not doing the equivalent of collapsing on the ground and convulsing from the power of the Holy Spirit.

Finally, the sermon started.  The pastor actually gave a very nice sermon on finding strength through God.  However, I couldn't pay attention to that, for one sole reason.

A random tangent.  It's no surprise that I have one major goal for my life.  That goal is to find a large, sassy, black woman, and get her to do the thing where she snaps her fingers and goes "MMMHHHMMMM!!!!"  I have been searching far and wide for the perfect person to do this.  And at this sermon, I found the next best thing.

In the front row of the auditorium, in front of everyone, was a black woman.  A black woman in a LIME GREEN POWER SUIT.  To say she blended in with the crowd would be a gross misstatement.  This woman not only was loud with her appearance, she was just LOUD.  And God was she sassy...  Let me give you an example of what happened that day.


Pastor:  And so, we turn to the Lord-

Black Woman:  *while throwing her hands in the air*  PRAISE THE VERY LORD!!!!!!!!

Pastor:  Jesus preach-

BW:  PREACH, JESUS!!! PREACH THE HOLY WORD!!! MMMMHMMMMM!!!!

Pastor:  An-

BW:  GOD IS ALMIGHT ON HIGH!!!!  AAAALLLLELUIA!!!!!!!!!  *foaming at the mouth*


Well.  Needless to say.  I could hardly contain myself.

I felt kind of bad.  I mean, here I was sitting here with my body racked with shaking as I was laughing so hard during this very nice sermon.  But, I couldn't help myself.  I mean, this was just too perfect to not watch.  It was as if God himself had heard my wish and bestowed upon me the ultimate sassy black woman.  Mackenzie finally clued into my laughter, and asked me what the hell was so funny.  All I had to do was point.  Next thing I know, she's busting up right next to me.  I'm sure that the rest of the congregation in our immediate vicinity was none too pleased...  But it's alright.  I'm sure that in the grand scheme of things, I'll be alright.

Well, maybe.

---

My final story comes from Finals week itself.  Spring term finals were hell, putting it mildly.  What with Chemistry, Vector Calculus, and Physics, I was in for a jolly good time.  But not really.  I pretty much spent every waking minute of my day that I WASN'T in a final, down in the coffee shop in my dining hall studying with my friends.  Charles, Oliver, Mackenzie, Rachel, and Virinda to be exact.  Well, Charles, Oliver, Rachel, and myself all had the same Vector Calculus class.  And the same exam.  That was going to be really nice, as we could then do all of our studying together, and take our exam in the same room as well.  For moral support, and all that jazz.

Our exam was Wednesday morning at 7:30.  Ew.  But that was alright, as it gave us all day Tuesday to study for it.  And study we did.  We studied our ASSES off for that exam.  It was cumulative, so we had 11 weeks worth of material to study over and perfect in the course of 24 hours.  Oh, and it isn't the most easy of material either.

But.  BUT.  We had one thing in our favor.  Our midterm exam was a piece of cake.  Seriously; it was the easiest math test I had ever taken EVER.  It was with this sentiment in mind that we thought to ourselves...  "The final is going to be pretty simple as well.  I mean, he'll just follow the same trend!"

Yeah.  Not so much.

Oliver and I woke up at 5:00 that next morning to make our note cards.  I thought it would be a great idea to jump start my brain in the morning with math.  By immersing myself in the subject before the exam, I would be fresh and ready to ROCK THIS TEST.  At least, that's what I was telling myself.  After an hour, I had completed the most BEAUTIFUL of note cards.  It was utterly immaculate.  Every piece of information I could possibly have needed was on this note card.  And with that, I was ready.  Ready to face my day of math hell.  READY TO KICK SOME SERIOUS ASS.

My friends and I marched with our heads held high into the exam room, and we all got ready to do work on this test.  We had spent the last 24 hours studying.  We were ready to roll.  I went into this exam with a high A; that further instilled me with the confidence I needed to do well.  I mean, hell.  I had a little leeway to fudge up a little bit and still do wonderfully in the class!  Our spirits were high.

And then we got the exam.

Question one consisted of making sure I had my name written on my scantron, and an exam number bubbled.  Check.  Got it.  That's 10 points right there!!  Awesome!

Question two.  "Hmmm...  Well, I don't know this one.  I'll come back to it.  It's all good.  Not being sure on one won't kill me."

Question three.  "*staring blankly at exam for three minutes*  Ummmmmm......  Heh...  Okay, this one is a bit tricky too.  I'll just move on."

Question four.   "..........................................................  Shit."

It was my worst nightmare.  You know those dreams you sometimes have that you are taking an exam and it's all foreign to you?  You know absolutely NOTHING?  Yeah, that was my reality.  It was a twenty problem exam, with 15 of them being multiple choice.  I guessed on every single multiple choice question, and stumbled horridly through the work out problems.  Well, the ones I had vague ideas on how to do, anyway.

An hour and fifteen minutes into our two hour exam, I looked up at the clock.  Fourty Five minutes left.  I looked down at my paper.  I was on question ten.  It was at that moment that I felt like I had just been punched in the stomach.  I seriously felt like I was going to throw up.  I wanted to burst into tears and start sobbing.  I actually tried willing myself to cry; I mean, if I was pathetic enough, maybe the TA's proctoring the exam will take pity on me and excuse me from the utter hell that was this math exam.

I then looked around at my friends closest to me to see if they were faring much better.  My friend Lauren was sitting to my left, and she was furiously scribbling away at a problem.  Great.  I looked over at Oliver, who was on my right, and he too was just doing WORK on this exam.

"GOD DAMN IT ALL!!!"  I thought to myself in dismay.  Here I was; the only incompetent one out of my group of friends who had no idea how to do any Vector Calculus.  I felt like such an idiot.  Which, of course, compounded on to my already horrid feelings made me want to hang myself from the rafters of the exam room.

With five minutes left, I started to lose any and all hope.  There went my perfect grade.  There went my GPA.  I was going to have to retake the class.  I was going to lose my scholarship.  I was going to get kicked out of school.  My parents would disown me.  I was going to end up living under a bridge somewhere begging for food, and all would laugh at me due to my dismal failure.  "HA HA, THERE'S CALAN!!!  HE COULDN'T PASS VECTOR CALCULUS!!"  My life was flashing before my eyes, and it wasn't pretty.

At this point, Charles got up and turned in his exam.  That snapped me out of my reverie right quick, and as I glanced down, I realized I still had one problem that I didn't finish.  Having no idea on how to do the problem, I magically pulled answers out of thin air and wrote them down on the paper.  I'm pretty confident they made no sense what-so-ever, but that's alright.  I didn't really care at that point.  I got up, handed in my exam with two minutes left, and defeated, trudged out of the room.

I found Charles outside in the hall way, just getting out of the bathroom.  I finally willed myself to speak, and dared to ask the question...  "How'd it go, dude?"

As he turned to face me, his facial expression said it all.  The frantic look in his eye; nearly on the verge of tears, the pale complexion of his face, and the lopsided frown plastered on his face told me that it went just as well for him as it did for me.  We exited the building in silence.  There wasn't much to say; we just got ass raped by a math exam, and there was no fixing it.  We tried to talk, but all that came out was incoherent, truncated fractions of cohesive thought.  It was a disaster.  Finally, the rest of our friends started to slowly trickle out.

Yeah, they didn't fare much better.

So in all, our math exam was an epic failure.  We all dismally failed it.  Every last one of us.  It was actually kind of impressive, looking back on it.  We all managed to do absolutely atrociously, and every single one of my friends went through the exact same hell that I did as they were TAKING the exam itself.  Hell, one of them even told me that they thought I was doing amazingly at it, considering how furiously I was working on one of the problems.  OH THE IRONY.

I pulled a B in the class.  I nearly passed out when I found out the amazing news.  I'm thinking the grade was out of pity...  But, I'll take it by God.

--

So with that, concluded my freshman year at Oregon State University.  I made some absolutely incredible friends that I will keep for life, and had some experiences that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.  Except the wet finger in mouth one.  I'll trade that any day of the week and twice on Sundays.  But that's besides the point.  I can't wait to see what my sophomore year will bring, and the rest of my collegiate experience to come.

College: Part 2

Well, I hate to say it ladies and gentleman, but I lied.  I'm really not going to recount the adventures I had during Winter term at OSU.  Why is that, you may ask?  Well, because nothing happened.  Really.  It was just an oil spill and a flock of seagulls.  THAT'S ABOUT IT (movie reference).  It was as dull as sin, and cloudy the whole time.  Nothing exciting happened, and my life had no hilarious antics to retell.

So.  That being said, I've decided that for the next two segments of this series, I'm going to tell all sorts of stories from Spring term; which was, by far, the best.  So sit back.  Enjoy the ride.  Grab yourself an iced beverage, and maybe a plate of fancy hors d'oeuvre to partake in.  I know I would.

---

When it comes to holidays, my family has always been very...  Well, family oriented.  We would have large get-togethers for pretty much every major holiday, and family birthday.  I loved these to death, as I thoroughly enjoy spending time with my family.  At any rate, I found myself faced with some rather troubling news when I got to college:  I wouldn't have any more of these.  I mean, I could have if I REALLY wanted to, but the 400 mile separation and the outrageous gas prices kind of put dampers in those plans.

So it's with that sentiment in mind, that I lead you into my next story.  Easter time was quickly approaching, and I came to the tragic conclusion that I was going to be stuck at OSU by myself.  My roommate was going home, and 90% of my friends were leaving as well to spend happy time with their families; getting home cooked food, and going Easter egg hunting.  Bastards.  I was so jealous.

Alex and I were out getting gelato one night, and he was telling me how he as WELL was going home for Easter.  I grimaced, and started eating my gelato with FAR less gusto than what I originally started out with.  I think he got the point that I was not really content with staying in the dorms and eating delicious dorm food, as he suddenly added "Well, Calan....  You know, I'm sure you could come over for the weekend and spend Easter with my family if you want."

YES!!!  MOPING AND GLOOMINESS FTW!

I immediately took him up and thanked him for such a generous offer.  I mean, I realized the implications.  I was going to intrude on a family's holiday routine.  This could be especially heinous.  But then I thought...  It's ME.  Everybody loves me, so there really wasn't going to be too big an issue.  At any rate, the next week or two came along, and suddenly we were faced with our departure to McMinnville for the weekend.

Alex had procured tickets to the Mexican cultural event that was taking place on campus the Friday before Easter, as it was a required presentation for his Spanish class.  That being said, he invited me, Virinda, and our friend Mackenzie.  On our way to the event, Alex looked over and asked Virinda if she had thought about his "offer" any.

What?  Why did that sound like a drug deal?  I was rather curious as to what the hell he was talking about.

APPARENTLY, Alex had invited Virinda as well to his place for Easter, as she wouldn't be going home either!  Neat!!  It'd be a Vale invasion in McMinnville, and it'd be a trio of great friends hanging out all weekend!  After a bit of prodding, we got Virinda to agree to going as well.  We went to the event, and sat through a painful presentation from a man who I swear to you sounded as though he was high.  "You've got to open your minds, MAAAAAAAAN!!!"  Yeeeeaaaahhh....  At any rate, it was an interesting presentation to say the least, and I got to write a paper about it for my START class; so it was especially helpful.

As we left for Alex's place, Virinda suddenly exclaimed that she needed a grey cardigan for her outfit she was to wear on Easter Sunday.  Sigh....  Alright, Virinda, we'll go find you a cardigan.  We tore up pretty much every store on our way out of town, to no avail.  Well, Virinda and I did.  Alex refused to leave the car.  In the end, we finally found one in McMinnville.  No thanks to you, Alex.  But that's all irrelevant.

Upon our arrival at Alex's place, we were happily greeted by his family who were more than willing to put up with Virinda and I for the weekend.  How thoughtful, right?  Anyway, we hung out a little bit before we all went to bed.  Virinda and I were to share Alex's room, and he was going to sleep on the couch.  I went even further to give Virinda Alex's bed, and I was going to sleep on the floor.  As we were going to bed, I went to shut the door.  I was abruptly stopped by Virinda, who sharply yelled at me to leave it open.

What the hell.  I asked her why, and here was her answer.

"I want Trixie (Alex's dog) to come in and sleep with me!"  Well.  I DIDN'T want that to happen, as Trixie was not going to sleep with Virinda, but sleep with the lump on the floor.  In other words, me; and I had no room to sleep as is.  So, I told Virinda no, and went to shut the door.

She LUNGED at me.  Well, it escalated into a really, REALLY loud whispering (yelling) fit.  Virinda had her foot firmly wedged in the door, and I had both of mine firmly planted on the door itself pushing it closed.  We sat there stubbornly for a few minutes before Alex came knocking.  "Would you two KEEP IT DOWN?!  Jesus!!"  As he left, Virinda and I glared at each other and both of us sulked off to bed.  And wouldn't you know it; the little cheat went and opened the door after I fell asleep.

Moving on.  At one point in our weekend of fun, we decided to go play tennis.  The three of us went to a quaint little park surrounded by trees, and a huge slide/play area.  After a game of intense tennis (well, intense for Alex and I.  Virinda kind of curled up in a ball in front of the net and cheered me on the whole time) we were headed back to my car when I started wearily eyeing the play area.  Virinda must have been on the same wavelength as me, as she ran over and started playing on it.

Well.  Not to be left out, I immediately joined, and started going down the slides that were much too small for me.  Hell, even Alex, who is MUCH too mach to ever partake in such activities broke down and started climbing on the mini rock wall they had.

And then shit got intense.

In our state of exhausted tennis delirium, we started playing "lava monster."  Virinda was the evil lava monster (of course) and Alex and I had to escape her wrath.  Everything that WASN'T the slide was hot lava, and thus Virinda's territory.  It was an EPIC battle.  Virinda fought hard, and even started shooting laser blasts at us for some odd reason.  I don't know, I guess lava monsters can do that sort of thing.  At any rate, it was alright, because Alex suddenly spawned the ability to create forcefields; effectively warding off Virinda's attacks.  We were in a deadlock.

Trying to take hold of another part of our "ship" that we were on, I made a mad dash towards the other side.  It didn't end well for me, as Virinda ran up and tackled me to the ground.  I was effectively dead, and dragged across the rec area.  Literally dragged.  Virinda then thought she'd add insult to injury by shoving me head first down the slide, but holding my legs so I wouldn't go all the way down.  The insidious witch held me hostage this way and went on to taunt Alex with my "dead" body.

BUT WAIT.  I forgot I had the power to revive myself, so I did, and drop kicked Virinda down the slide.  Running back over to where Alex was, we celebrated our short-lived victory.  Immediately afterwards, we found Virinda climbing up the slide.  She grabbed Alex, and dragged him down into the fiery pits of Hell from which she came.  It was a tragedy, and I had to save my friend.  I shot a revival beam at him, and he managed to start climbing back up the rock wall to safety.  Virinda would have none of that though, and she ran up to where the rock wall ended, and started freezing Alex's hands.  How lava monsters gained the ability to freeze I'll never know.  In the end, we called it a draw.  Alex and I had managed to extinguish Virinda's fire, but she burned down our whole ship in the process.

And then I realized just what the hell we had been doing for the past hour, and went into peals of uncontrollable laughter.  We all did.  By God, it was like we were seven again; and to be frank, it was probably one of the most fun times I had since going to College.  Sad, I know, but every once in a while one must embrace their inner child; and not in a creepy molester-esque fashion.

The rest of the weekend went very smoothly.  On Easter Sunday, I woke up to find that Alex had a Easter basket in his hands.  Before I could even get a word out, he told me "Dude...  My mom hid Easter baskets around the house for us.  You have to go find yours!"  I was elated.  I got my Easter hunt AFTER all!!  Not only that, but once I found my elusive basket, I was overjoyed to find that it had been stuffed with all sorts of candies and treats.  And socks.  Of which, I was incredibly grateful for.  I mean, really.  Alex's family had brought us in and went through all of the effort and trouble to make sure we had a good Easter, since we weren't spending it with our own family.  How awesome is that?

Afterwards, we attended a very nice church service of which I wore white tie attire.  But not really...  We did dress up nicely though.  A DELICIOUS brunch followed the service, and we then packed up and headed back to school.  It was a great weekend to say the least.  I'm going to have to make holidays at the Geelan's a regular occurrence.

Oh, and Lava Monster, I'm going to kick your ass next time we fight.

College: Part 1

Well.  One year down.  It's rather surreal, I must admit, to comprehend the fact that I've finished my first year of college already.  It's even more amazing to realize that I've finished my first year in a Chemical Engineering curriculum.  Yeah, I think at some point I'm going to fall over in a mental exhaustion from all of the super duper fun science and math classes I'll be taking in the very near future...  But as far as right now is concerned, I still just love me some good ol' fashioned Chemistry.  Weesnaw.

As I sit here on my back deck on this BEAUTIFUL Sunday morning in Eastern Oregon, I can't help but reflect on my first year at OSU as a whole, and all of the incredible things that have happened over the course of the past year.  I suppose thought that incredible could be substituted with a lot of other words as well.  Interesting...  Hilarious...  Sickening...  Disgraceful...  Yeah, go ahead and use your imagination to fill in the rest of these words.  And then, I started thinking....  "Wouldn't some of these stories make absolutely hilarious blog posts?"  The answer, is yes.

This particular post is going to be broken up into three seperate parts:  Fall term, Winter term, and Spring term.

To be frank, I only have a handful of memories of fall term at OSU.  Maybe it's because it was such a long time ago, that I've forgotten most of it.  Maybe it's because all of the hardcore drugs I've been taking as of late have wiped my long term memory out entirely (only kidding, to those of you who are inept in the ways of sarcasm).  At any rate, the following story is one of laughs, tears, drama, heartbreak, adventure, and a dashingly handsome protagonist.

But in all honesty, it's about chemistry.

Fall term, I was enrolled in Chemistry 221, which is the upper series of General Chemistry.  For me, it was a snooze.  It was all about stuff I had gone over in GREAT detail my senior year of high school, so I literally slept through the class and waltzed away with a high A at the end of the term.  Most of my friends were in this class as well; my roommate, Virinda Boyle, and a vast majority of my friends that I would meet through my classes as the term progressed.  At any rate, there was one friend of mine in particular who was in the class as well, and is subsequently who this story revolves around.

Alex Geelan.

I had met Alex the summer before leaving for college, through my friend Connor.  Throughout the summer, we'd talk about how excited we were to finally be going off to school.  We'd talk about where we were living,  what we were planning on doing throughout the year, what classes we were taking, and the like.  At some point, Alex had mentioned to me that he was taking CH 221.  "Hey!" I said.  "I'm taking the exact same class!!"  Alex, "No way!?  Dude....  I'm going to hate it.  I suck at chemistry."  Me, "Well, I'd be HAPPY to help and tutor you as the year progresses!  Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm a PRO when it comes to chemistry."

Needless to say, he ate the offer up.

Throughout the term, my friends all realized that I was really good at chemistry.  This prompted even MORE asking of help.  Well, that's fine, I like helping my friends; so it's no big deal.  It was at this point that I came up with the most INGENIOUS idea of a Chemistry Study Group!  My friends and I would all meet in the library once or twice a week and keep up on all of our homework, while bouncing extra problems off of each other to make sure our knowledge of the material stayed fresh in our minds.  It was an ingenious idea, and for the most part, went very smoothly.

Finally, we found ourselves faced with the first midterm.  Confident in my friends' abilities to do well on the exam, there wasn't much studying to be had between any of us.  Wishing everyone good luck, we all dispersed to our separate rooms and took the exam.

Getting done with the exam in ten minutes, I stood outside and waited for Alex, who took the exam in the same room as I did.  When he finally came out, we started walking back to my room together so we could check the answer key and see how we did.

"Psh; easiest exam EVER, right?"  I asked Alex with a confident smirk plastered on my face.  "Uhhh....  Yeah, I don't know, dude.  There were some questions that I was kind of iffy about."  Alex responded.  Well, I wasn't too worried.  After all; with subject material like significant figures and basic, BASIC reactions, it had to have been a cinch.

Or at least that's what I thought.

Alex ended up getting a high D on his first exam.  WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA.  What?!?!  I stared incredulous at his exam, as he stood there with total nonchalance.  "Dude.  Don't worry about it!  The final wipes out the two midterms anyway.  This is just a minor snafu; you're freaking out way too much about this." He tells me reassuringly.

What the hell!?  A D in significant figures!?!?  I just couldn't wrap my mind around the idea.  It looked at this point as though I had a project, I did.  I was going to make Alex a chemistry God if it KILLED ME, as this was unacceptable.  At this point, you're all probably wondering why I cared so much.  Here's why:  I simply couldn't have a moron as a friend.  Granted, he'd fill the affirmative action quota I have when it comes to friendships, but I simply wasn't going to stand for this.

Our chemistry group started to dwindle.  Mainly because I was so dedicated to making sure Alex understood what was going on, I seemed to neglect...  Well, everybody else.  The second third of the term came and went, and we were faced with our second midterm.  I wasn't taking any chances this time.  Putting aside all of the studying I had to do for other exams, I spent a good 20 accumulated hours prepping Alex for this exam.  The exam came and went, and afterwards, as usual, we strolled back to my room to check the key.

".................................  A 68 percent, Alex.  You got.  A high D.  AGAIN."  It was at this point that I started banging my head on my desk in utter disdain.  I think Alex was sitting there telling me AGAIN that it was alright due to the fact that the final would just replace it, but I wasn't listening.  At this point, it wasn't about Alex passing chemistry at all.  Oh no; it was about my utter FAILURE at being a tutor.  So, as only I could do, I managed to turn a totally selfless act into one that was all about me.  I had to maintain my dignity.  If my ward was failing Chemistry, what did this say about me?!  The implications were numerous.  And also a total figment of my imagination.

I was instilled with a new fiery passion.  Alex was going to DESTROY  the chem final by God, or suffer the dire consequences.  The two weeks between the second midterm and the exam came and went without much thought, and finally, we were faced with Dead Week.  I told Alex that we were going to start studying RIGHT NOW; a full week before the exam, all day, every day.  And study we did.  We went over every single practice exam, old exam, and problems from the book to make sure he had a grasp on the material.  If he didn't breeze right through a problem I gave him, I'd tell him exactly how to do it, and make him do several more.

The day of the exam came, and I was proud of my efforts so far.  Alex was able to do pretty much all of the math intensive problems.  He was going to do great; I could feel it.  We went our separate ways to take the exam.  I destroyed my exam.  HOWEVER.  There were several questions that I would look at and think "Oh God...  Alex is going to struggle with this one..."  But I pushed on and tried to take my mind off of that.

That night, my roommate's girlfriend had pizzas delivered to our dorm in celebration of the completion of our Chemistry final.  It was an incredibly generous offer, and it was greatly appreciated.  All of my friends had migrated to my place as they finished, and we gave our minds a break as we devoured free pizza like most college students would.  Finally, the exam keys came up, and I ran off to check both mine and Alex's scores.

I missed about two or three; no big, I still did quite well.  I was pleased.  It was then time to check Alex's.  It was only my roommate and I in the room, as everybody else was in the lounge eating pizza.  I started to go through his exam.

First question:  Wrong.  Hmmm...  Okay.  Second question:  Wrong.  .....  Uhh...  Third question:  Wrong.  Fourth question.  Wrong.  I started panicking.  Wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong.  Right.  Wrong.  Wrong.  Right.  Right.  Wrong. Wrong.  Wrong.  See the pattern?

By the end of the exam, my eyes were the size of dinner plate, and I'm sure I was as pale as a ghost.  Failed.  He had completely and utterly FAILED.  He didn't just slip up and get a few wrong, he DISMALLY FAILED HIS EXAM.  But wait; he didn't just fail, I did.  My week of intense prepping was all for naught, as he had failed this exam.  I was distraught.  I was in disbelief.  I was FURIOUS.  My roommate was snickering quietly to himself as I stormed out the door; at what, I wasn't quite sure.  I'm sure it was my melodrama, but whatever.

I marched into the lounge and had the exam clutched in my hand like a death grip.  "YOU FAILED, ALEX.  Your failure on this exam is rivaled by NONE."  I was livid.  How on EARTH could he simply FORGET everything I had spent countless hours teaching him!?  At that point, I knew what it was like to be a teacher.  The frustration one feels after spending so much time trying to get a subject across only to find it fell upon deaf ears.

Suddenly, Alex started busting up laughing.  He sat there for a solid minute and just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.  I was incredibly confused, to say the least.  When he finally composed himself, he looked at me and said "Dude.  I circled the answer below the one I ACTUALLY put on the scantron, just to make you flip out when you checked my score!!"

....  Touche, Alex.  Touche.

As the anger in me slowly subsided, annoyance quickly took its place.  Alright...  Nice joke, Alex.  That was funny, I'll admit.  As I, defeated, shuffled out of the room to RE CHECK his answers, Alex sat there and howled with laughter.  I went back into my room, and my roommate was ALSO busting up.  Apparently, he was in on it the whole time.

Bastards.

So I went through, and re-evaluated the exam.  Sadly, the ones he had gotten RIGHT (however little there were) were now WRONG.  But that was irrelevant.  After the calculations, I had his exam score sitting in front of me heavily underlined on his exam.  I strolled back into the lounge, and threw (literally threw) the exam at Alex, and told him to take a gander.

Alex wasn't laughing this time.  "Congrats, Alex.  You got a 58% on your final."  I told him wearily.  He up and rushed back to my room to check to see if I had made any mistakes.  I hadn't, and the score I gave him was truly his exam score.  With no reassurance of another exam to replace this one, he started to panic a little bit.  At this point, I had exhausted all of my negative emotions, and all I felt was sympathy.  I mean, boiling it down, I was sad that my friend didn't do too hot on this exam (and I was also upset that I actually HAD failed as a tutor).

At this point, a glimmer of understanding danced across Alex's face.  "Wait, dude..."  He slowly said.  "Look at the questions I got wrong.  They're all conceptual word problems.  All of the math problems that YOU taught me, I got right!!!  You aren't a failure after all!"

Thanks, pal.  "....  Are you serious?"  I managed to finally say.  Duh.  DUH.  Chemistry is ALL CONCEPTUAL.  THAT'S why Alex wasn't getting it!!!  I was trying to explain math that made PERFECT sense to me because I could see what was going on, but it was complete gibberish to Alex!  So of course, he could simply memorize the process to find an answer, but it didn't MEAN anything.  That being said, the word problems that actually asked about chemistry totally kicked his ass.

EPIC FACEPALM.

A bittersweet ending, it was.  He was right; I had done my job in making sure he knew how to do the problems, so that was something.  But, he still failed the exam.  We were both thinking at this point that he probably did rather poorly in the class, but it was irrelevant.  We were done, and it was time to head home for Christmas break.  Thus ended my fall term at OSU, and Alex's last term of Chemistry.  Yeah, there was no way in hell he was doing that again.  He chickened out and switched from a general science major, to a psych major.

What the hell, Alex.  Really?

P.S.  The lucky bastard managed a B in the class.  I was incredulous.

Karma

Gone.....  It's all GONE.......

As most of you who read my Facebook posts are aware, a few weeks ago my Wii kicked the bucket.  After four years of relentless playing, it finally just up and died.  No matter how hard I tried, it would not run ANY disk put into it.  Hilariously enough, this happened on the supposed "rapture."  A sign from God?  More than likely.  At any rate, I mourned, but then decided that I should just bite the bullet and send the Wii in for repair; or at least talk to a Nintendo rep about sending it in.

While on the phone with the representative, he was discussing with me my options.  I could send it in for 75 bucks plus 10 for shipping and handling, and it'd be good as new.  Or, I could not, and have a broken Nintendo console for FOREVER.  A little weary about the price, I told him I'd probably just set up my order online, as I needed to discuss the price with my parents.

"The price!?  The price is what you're worried about??  Erm...  Well......  We REALLY just want to get your Wii up and running here at Nintendo...  So how about as a one time favor, I knock...  Let's say....  Thirty dollars off your order.  It'll be 45 for the repair, and 10 for shipping and handling."  The rep tells me.

Well who can pass up an offer like that?  I agree, get the appropriate information, and thank him profusely for the kind (albeit EXTREMELY random and highly suspicious) favor.  I talk to my parents who agree, and set about preparing to send it off.

There was some bad news.  For all of you who don't understand technology, I'll put it simply.  All of the data I had saved for every and any game I had ever played was stored on MY Wii.  The broken one.  So, all of my downloaded games, EVERYTHING, was stored on my Wii.  I had to find a way to transfer that to a "filler" Wii while mine was off in repair.  Some friends of mine were kind enough to not only lend me their SD card for the data transfer, but a Wii to play while mine was gone.

So, I sat down and started transferring data.  To my utter disdain, games like Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros. (both games that took me literally years to perfect and get everything into the pristine condition I had) wouldn't transfer, as they had online connectivity.  Well, that's fine.  I just won't play them, as I was ASSURED that all of my data would be returned to me in perfect condition with the fixed Wii.  That being said, I saved what few games I thought I might want to play in the repair time, which was supposed to be about two and a half weeks.  I only transferred over about six or so single player games that I thought were too important to leave not played.  All was relatively well, for now.  I shipped off the Wii and my copy of Legend of Zelda (as it was required to help duplicate the original problem), and all I had to do was wait.

Fast forward.

Two days ago, I checked the repair order status to find that not only had Nintendo fixed my Wii, but they had shipped it back the very same day!  It was going to be here in two days!  I WAS FREAKING JACKED!!  Way to go, Nintendo!  Your customer service is parallel to NONE!  Yeah, all was well in my perfect bubble of a world.

Today, I got the email telling me that the Wii had arrived.  I didn't have time to retrieve it before math, so I had to suffer through an hour long class of hell before I could play my precious, precious video games again... After class, I grabbed a friend of mine and we bee-lined straight to pick up the Wii.  I grabbed the box, caressed it a little, and proceeded to sprint up to my room; knocking several people over in my path, I'm sure.

As I tear open the box, I see my packing slip.  Yeah yeah yeah, bla bla b-  Oh wait.  What's this?  "Services Rendered: System Replacement"  Hmm...  Alright, that's odd.  They sent me a BRAND SPANKING NEW Wii!  Well, alright!  I won't complain!  For 45 bucks, that's a pretty sweet deal!!!  And, since the guy ASSURED me that my data would be preserved, all of it must have been transfered to this new console!  Sweet!!  What's this?  They also sent me a new copy of Legend of Zelda!?  This couldn't get any better!!!  I passed off the new Wii to my friend, in all of it's white and shining glory.  As he hooked it up so we could start what was to be an afternoon of blissful gaming, another piece of paper caught my attention.  It was the post repair instructions, with some boxes checked.  Hmmm...  This could be important, I probably should read it.

The first box checked was pretty standard.  They received the Wii, found the problem, and replaced the console.  All was well.

The second box went as followed.

"Due to the malfunction, we were not able to recover any data associated with your system.  This includes game save data, any Mii's you have created on the Mii channel, message board and address book information..."

Due to the malfunction, we were not able to recover any data associated with your system.


we were not able to recover any data associated with your system.


not able to recover any data associated with your system.


Well.  Needless to say, I didn't handle that very well.

I don't really remember what happened next, to be entirely honest.  All I knew was that I was going into fits of conniptions, to say the least.  There were spats of rage thrown in there, dry sobs, bodily seizures, more rage, lightheadedness....  You name it.  For those of you who are thinking, "IT'S JUST A VIDEO GAME CONSOLE, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!"  Let me put it in perspective.

Imagine that you are of a high rank at a job.  You have spent years climbing to the top, and ascertaining the position you hold today.  The benefits you have are numerous, and you revel in the fact that you have spent years of hard work to get you where you are today.

And then imagine you're fired on the spot for no apparent reason.

Now, you have to start AAAAAAALLLLLLL over again.  Good luck job hunting!  Say goodbye to that almost CEO position and HELLO TO BEING A FRY COOK!!!

Alright, fine.  Am I being melodramatic?  You bet your ass I am.  Is it justified?  I sure as hell think so.

I had spent four years of my life building the data that I had on that precious Wii, and now it's gone; in the blink of an eye.  *Sigh*

My mother was wonderfully sympathetic.  "Oh, that's too bad.  Now, however, you can play all of your old games again like they're brand new."

Gee thanks, mother.  That's just what I want to hear.  However, she does have a point.  I suppose I won't be bored for the next FOUR FREAKING YEARS OF MY LIFE.

At this point, you're probably wondering why on earth the title of this post is "Karma."  Well, here's why.  I had an epiphany in my bouts of hysteria earlier...  I do believe that this all happened was because of four years of bad karma buildup.  The incessant teasing my friends receive at my hand finally came back to bite me in the ass.  And it bit me HARD.  It is because of this that I have gleaned a new outlook on life.  I will no longer be the sarcastic, condescending asshole that most of my friends think I am.  True story.  I'm turning over a new leaf.

(I give it four hours at best before that sentiment fails epically)

At any rate, there will be a funeral service for those who can attend for the old Wii, which, according to Nintendo, was in such a state of disrepair that they just chucked the whole thing altogether.  Tragic.

"Parties"

Partying.  Do you remember back in the good ol' days when it was just a whole bunch of silly games, cake, and then passing out wherever you were standing from the end of the sugar high?  Yeah, that was the good life.  Parties were the sacred cow of our childhood.  In fact, I distinctly remember the most horrid insult you could use against another individual was "YOU'RE NOT INVITED TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!"

If this was used against you, you were shunned.  Cast off into the dark reaches of society where only the sodomites and circus clowns were waiting.

You were nothing.

At any rate, partying has changed rather rapidly through the years.  If I'm not mistaken, partying now is defined as "a drunken whore fest of fun!"  But maybe a dictionary other than Websters defines it differently; I don't know.  Now, admittedly, I abhorred the idea of partying back in high school, and at the start of college.  It wasn't my idea of a good time to go get sloshed and wake up the next morning with my face in a potted plant on somebody's porch surrounded by a pool of my own vomit.  To each their own though, right?

But.  BUT.  I would be lying to you all if I said I haven't partied.  I have; and if I must say, they haven't been all that bad.  In fact, some can be pretty fun if you're with the right group of friends.  This I suppose is what partying is framed around; who'd have thunk it!

By this point, you're probably wondering why on earth I'm rambling about this.  "Where is the wit?  Where is the hilarious story concerning Calan and the mishaps that go on in his every day life?"  Well, it's coming.  All of this has been build up; foreplay if you will, to the wonderful sexual event that's about to take place.  (Ha; that was dirty.)

This weekend, I had the privilege of going to Troutdale with one of my friends simply for the reason of getting off campus and having someone feed  me.  It was WONDERFUL.  Homemade food and pampering from a motherly figure after living in the dorms for a whole scholastic year is quite possibly the best thing since sliced bread; but that's besides the point.  The first night we were there, my friend told me we were going to a party in Cascade Locks with all of her friends.  "Alright," I thought.  "This won't be too bad...  I've gotten rather used to the party scene now, so it's not like this is going to be anything I can't handle."

I got more than I bargained for.

Upon arrival at this party, at about 10:00 that evening, my friend and I realized that this party was already in full swing.  And by full swing I mean that there were already drunk people on the ground in fits of giggles.  Yay.  Putting my brave face on, I made casual conversation with the people who were still somewhat sober, and had a fairly enjoyable time.

And then the lights went off and the "dancing" started (by dancing I mean dry humping standing up).  At this point, my friend abandoned me to go talk with some friends, and I was left sitting at the bar alone.  A girl came and sat to my right, and started staring rather creepily at me.  I had heard about this girl from my friend.  She was practically the uhh...  Well....  "Call girl" for the town, shall we say.  To protect her dignity, I'll not say her real name, and instead call her something practical.  I'll call her Village Bicycle, or VB for short.  Something resembling the following conversation took place immediately after her sitting down.


Me:  Erm...  Hi!  You're from Cascade Locks, right?

VB:  Yup!  *continues staring at me*

Calan:  Oh.  Neat.  So are you like, a senior?  Just graduated?  Or what.

VB:  ...  *looks at me suspiciously*  It depends.  How old are you?

Me:  *severely creeped out at this point*  Uhhhhhhh....  I'm 19.

VB:  Oh.  I'm 17 then.

Me:  0_o


Luckily (or not, I guess), another girl came and sat down next to me saving me from having to make any more conversation with VB.  However, what followed was unequivocally worse.  We'll call this girl "Shit-faced Sally," or SS for short.


SS:  Hi there!  *hiccup*  You're the ONLY guy at this party I haven't danced with!  What's your name?

Me:  Calan.

SS:  Caleb?

Me:  *sigh*  No, Calan.

SS:  Calam?

Me:  (close enough...)  Yup!

SS:  Cool.  So have you been drinking tonight?  *hiccup*

Me:  Uhhh...  No.  I'm driving back this evening.

SS:  Awwwwww....  LAAAAAAME!!!!  Come on!!!  Drink!!!  Here; lick my finger!

Me:  Erm...  I'll pass; tha-


It was at that moment, that SS took her finger and started rubbing it all over my face; DESPERATELY trying to find my lips, in her drunken haze.  Her finger; her WET, DRIPPING FINGER went all over my face before she finally got bored and withdrew her hand, laughing.

I was in shock.  Complete, and utter shock.  Oh, and I'm pretty confident sheer mortification was mixed in there too.  I mean, I had no idea what that liquid was or where the HELL her finger had been.  At that point, all I knew was that I was pretty confident I had immediately contracted some sort of disease; the clap, AIDS (she would have found a way to directly give me AIDS; skipping HIV entirely), or even terminal death cancer that makes your head fall off.


SS:  Tasty, huh?

Me:  *look of pure horror on my face*

VB:  Hey!  You should drink some of this!  *puts down a drink of a mystery fluid that looked a lot like what would be passed through the system of a sick person who ate too much mexican food*

Me:  I'm good.  In fact, I think I'm going to run and find my friend.


I don't think I had gotten up out of a chair faster in my life.  I spent the rest of the evening cowering on a couch, watching everybody from a safe distance and wondering when I was going to drop dead from my newly contracted disease.

Luckily however, now that a few days have gone by and I haven't fallen over with a green tint in my skin, I think I'm in the clear.  But, I'm not too entirely sure...  Yikes.  At any rate, ladies and gentleman, it's situations like what I described above that make me just want to go out and get drunk ALL THE TIME (end of sarcasm).

The moral of this story then, is party safe.  Don't accept drinks from strangers.  Don't let strange girls shove their fingers in your mouth; especially if they're wet.  And with that sage advice, I bid you adieu.