True to Form

School has concluded, and I’m en route to have a moderately stress free winter vacation, all two weeks of it. I’d like to know what it would be like to rein myself in, but I get the feeling that if I did, I’d be lost. Having the brains and willpower to crush planets is a perk, but it must always be nurtured, because if not, well, chaos ensues. More chaos then normal, I’d wager.

I’m relatively dissatisfied with my grades. More bluntly, I’m pissed. I figured that I threw in a fanatical effort in achieving perfection, but I was stopped short by two, possibly three classes. I wonder how this affects my Berkeley aspirations. I’m stuck as I’ve been considerably average in Political Science, compared to the people who are gunning for academic genocide. On the other hand, my Communication Studies grades are remarkably astounding. In short, if I would have divided my classes, I could very well have had a 4.0 this semester. Yet knowing me, I still would’ve had a subpar year, knowing I could have pushed myself harder, and my tendency to play down to the competition if I feel the competition lacks worth. Next semester will be all or nothing, as I’m sure my grad school choices will be less forgiving than me. If only Berkeley didn’t require that foreign language qualification for Rhetoric…

Christmastime is naturally my most depressing state, as a feeling overwhelming solitude pierces my core like a horny businessman with an escort on business. I tried my luck with two girls, and so far, I’ve received coal. In detail, I sent messages pouring out the essence of my being, and the coldest winter ensued. Starting with the funniest (and currently updated), one prospect told me she has to decline my dinner invite, as she is studying abroad in Australia and will not return until the spring of 2010. Now, I gather her intent was sincere, but I’ve never heard a rejection with that excuse…Australia? Kangaroos, koalas, and Andrew Bogut? I like to joke that she left the continent when faced with the possibility of going to dinner with me. While not wholly true, it does create laughter. The second girl will render her decision in a couple of days, or so I think. Despite this, my mother gave me the beastliest gift of all: she ordered a Berkeley sweatshirt. The item will find a starring role in my wardrobe, as my sweatshirt stock has steadily decreased. The fact that it’s the wrong “Berkeley” (“College” instead of “University of California”) does not affect me; my mother actually logged on and found a sweatshirt online. Truly, this makes the holiday come to life.

While I’m definitely single for the foreseeable future, at least my mother made sure I’ll be warm while I wait out the storm. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Nickelback “Gotta Be Somebody”

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How to Lose a Smile, and Find It

Cutting losses. Trimming fat. Exorcising demons. Those would all be appropriate metaphors for how I’ve been conducting business over the last couple of weeks. I’ve been depressed as sin lately, but my tragic story ends like it should: swiftly, justly, and grossly weird. Somehow, everything relates to a girl or five.

I wasn’t sure if I would get my money back for the class party, and considered abdicating my throne. Elizabeth got my money back, and there is no doubt that I will be defending my title again next semester.

Audy broke my heart. Like every week. I’m starting to feel like I did back in high school: being the male friend that picks the girl up when she’s done with a boyfriend. Not quite good enough to be boyfriend material, but too valuable to discard. She came over last Thursday after I played one hell of a mind game, and we kinda/sorta “intermingled.” By intermingle, it could loosely be described as foreplay that involves wrestling for better position. For the record, I was always in superior position. The highlight is that I had her in a chickenwing and proceeded to lick her. I love my prodigious wrestling skill…armbar! I hate the fact that most girls do not see me as a credible threat. In fact, she felt nothing. I could probably toss her around the room, break a couple bones, and she’d still call me a bitch. I’d come back for punishment, until my ego hits a snag.

My ego hit a snag. She mentioned she felt safe around me because I wasn’t dangerous. As in, I’m not nearly touchy-feely enough to be considered a possible attacker. Thus, snag. I’d normally end our talks with a hug, but I opted for a handshake, which signaled the end of anything we had.

I talked with Kat for the first time in weeks. Small surprise, she came right over and sat on my lap at salsa. It was great catching up with her, and I got the odd feeling she wanted to see me during the break? How so? She conveniently pointed out she hangs out by my house every Friday. Score! That is, if she’s single.

Kat was a conversation point between Maren and me. She mentioned her boobs, which led me to mention that I was checking her out for the whole year and namedropping her as my exotic German girlfriend. Funny shit, I say. She started to get freaked out, but I broke down to super-serial mode telling her how much I would miss her when she leaves for the Deutschland. While we embraced one last time, I whispered something in her ear:

“If you have a fantasy about sleeping with an American before you go home, I’m here for you.”

Final girl on the list is the same girl that cause me to find my smile. I am really enamored with Laura; probably with the exception of lewdness, she’s my equal in every respect. I visit her at work so I can hear her voice; she means that much to me. Thus, I dropped by the burger stand after earning my first two A’s this semester, and conversed with her. We drank cider together…and it was a great. It was freezing, we were tired, and we were about to part ways. One embrace later, and she was heading to the car until…

“HEY, WAIT A MINUTE! This will only take a couple minutes of your time. Laura, I’ve liked you since the first time I met you. I don’t come here for the food; I come here to see you, because you make me feel better about stuff. I want to take you out on a date to see Wicked before it leaves Los Angeles, and to get P.F. Chang’s since you haven’t been there. What do you say?”

“Awww, you make me smile. Maybe, that sounds like fun!”

“Oh no, I want a concrete answer, yes or no.”

I just have to pick the date, and voila, that’s how Anthony regained his smile. The dancers of Long Beach are eternally grateful because of it. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Eric & The Hostiles “Pay the Price”