Conspiracy of One: Boxing Day Dawn

In a few fleeting moments, Christmas will be a memory and it will be Boxing Day. Odd enough, I’m American and shouldn’t really care about tomorrow, but heck, Boxing Day is a holiday nonetheless.

Ask me where this Christmas ranks in the history of days, and I’ll tell you it was a sucky work day. I’ve discovered over the last two days that people really don’t have lives. It’s pathetic that some people find it opportune to annoy us Starbuckers when they should be at home with their families. My reason for being at work? Holidays are holidays, not days off.

Coworkers? Meh, lamentable. Customers? Expendable. Guy? Dependable. It was a whirlwind of a sales blitz, and markedly so, holidays didn’t affect my outlook; seek and destroy will be the mantra of the empire until the empire is no more.

At home, there was and still is plenty of food. It’s nice being with family for a few hours, because customers aren’t family…they’re leeches. Miserable bloodsucking leeches who operate the economy. A few jokes about my sister being drunk, and a lecture about capturing dominance ended my night. Let’s see, I think I’m forgetting something important here…ah yes, the commercialism.

My wallet is lined with money, and my car seats are singed with flames. I’ll most likely opt for the same sweatshirt Bill Belichick wears on the sidelines; I’ve yet to decide if I’m cutting off the sleeves.

However, I received a couple of fairly significant gifts that reflect my name: priceless. At work, I was visited by my rival, Ariel. I haven’t seen her in approximately two years. It was a welcome surprise, and something that set events in motion. As the world progresses, this year will end in a week’s time with my docket far from completion. More on that later.

My other surprise was Jordan dropping by and handing me my ass on a silver platter in Tekken 5. I haven’t been trounced that thoroughly in months. Fun seeing my best friend on a commercial holiday. We should’ve popped a bottle of cider, but then again, I had two bottles of cider at work, and I’ll probably pop another before I doze off. Good times at Team Corporate Tower.

Again, back to my point: my list of goals remained incomplete for the sixth consecutive year, due to the same goal. Of course, I’d probably grow complacent, charging this year to the game and getting read for the next year accordingly. However, seeing Ariel jumpstarted that feeling exponentially. Sure, I like her and all, but let’s face it, we’re rivals. Rivalries don’t die, particularly good ones. In seven days, 2007 will come to a close, which gives me six days to scout my next move. Next year, more accountability, more determination, and more success. Someone call the governor and get a pardon, because next year, I’m going headhunting for sport. Thanks Ariel for the visit…and thanks Jordan for the beating. Both of you have pretty much sealed the world’s fate.

Now how do I start my road to reinventing the Palace of Wisdom? By reading Tony Dungy’s book. Why hasn’t Bill Belichick written a book? More importantly, why did my mother get me the book of his mortal enemy? Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – A Fine Frenzy “Almost Lover”

Conspiracy of One: Sophomore Hiatus

First semester of second year is over. Concluded with a screwjob and a bang. Screwjob: teacher decided that it’d be funny to dismiss a completely invincible argument, costing me a perfect grade. Bang: the poetry reading of a lifetime. For both events, The Godhand transformed into the Star-Spangled Asshole. That’s right, the red, white, and blue were prominently displayed on my blessed scalp.

Jared’s still in that awkward bind between girls. I wonder sometimes how the heck somebody can be so lucky, yet at the same time, be damned to hell.

Work is what it is. My fans enjoy my presence, and I enjoy my fans. I’ve been instrumental in teaching the two rookies, although one is leaving. With that said, I’ll have more focus on the one that remains, who I can only describe as a feisty little firecracker. She should be a decent fit, but then again, I should be nice and content with my life. Heh, heh, heh. Sarcasm be damned.

Believe the hype; my performance of “Animalistic Exhibition” was by far the greatest event ever. Ever. Adding to my already brilliant display was the presence of my fair mistress: apple cider. I pride myself in being an expert showman. Others pride themselves in having the privilege to hear me perform.

Semester concluded with a lunch gathering with Jared, David, Christina, and me. Chipotle was delicious. The world is as it should be, because now, Jordan and I have some catching up to finish. That, and well, let the next semester come on down. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Goo Goo Dolls “Better Days”

Conspiracy of One: Preparing the Exhibition

My hair’s no longer blue; instead, it’s gold. It makes me want to get up and perform the John Morrison pose…again.

I opted not to apply to Berkeley after a series of odd complications that were unfavorable. Not sure if I’ll apply next year. However, the problems enumerated by myself seems to prove that I’m overdetermined; I could really stand to relax a little more, and put on a smile. A real smile…but since I’m staying true to typical chickenshit heel nature, I opt for the cop out, which basically means “if you want me to smile, go find Christine Bucao.”

It appears as if I no longer possess any of my salsa moves, and even swing is getting redundant. If the only thing that brings me relief no longer offers relief, then I’ve truly gone off the deep end.

Too determined. Must calm down. Must not give myself a stroke, although I’ve probably had one already for no apparent reason. My blood pressure must be shot at the moment. My state of edge has been continually persistent to the point of madness. Jared asked me to go over some poetry for him, and I gave my interpretation. He shot it down, and I, in turn, took his knees out from underneath him. Probably not the best course of action, yet I find it funny he calls me a hypocrite, then wants my input on class scheduling. I do not fight battles unless I’m sure I have a definite homecourt advantage, among other things. He started to backtrack and apologize, which I doubt was sincere, so I continued to assail him. Realistically, I could care less about pressed coal; on the other hand, I will not die.

Seeking opportunity to make play on targets next week. Funny thing, I really do run with an older crowd. One appears to be using me just for my moves, one seems to be genuinely interested, and the last finds my antics “cute.” Who knew that saying “adieu” would qualify as endearing? Archaic (see: romantic) language does have merits.

Lastly, contacted a girl I went to middle school with, who has really evolved into a pretty girl. Of course, I’ve always had awkward taste in women, but this one, I definitely made a wise gamble. I’ll take any victory, no matter the brevity.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Beethoven “Moonlight Sonata”