Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Funny Little Side Note

So remember yesterday when I said a guy on a bike is about to get to the window? The same guy just came back again! He seems like a pretty cool guy, too, with his old-style bike and fake Ray-Bans. He's one who seems to be against the establishment.


Monday, April 18, 2011

Great. Just Great.

Segment 1.

I'm kind of pissed right now. I had a good 60-word paragraph written on this bullshit and I exited out of it. It was full of suspense and life-lessons, too, so feel sorry for yourselves. I guess we'll continue with what I had started. Actually, it doesn't matter. If you're just now joining us, which you are, I'll catch you up to speed. I decided to write about what I see (like the big-ass semi that just drove through campus that was orange, but was made by the company called, wait for it, Yellow, proudly painted on the big orange truck.) Now, when dealing with matters of perception, one is left to wonder: is Taylor's perception better than mine, and if so, is it accurate? The answer is a resounding yes.

Segment 2.

Let's start off with a goal: by the time I finish this entry, I'll have written a Pulitzer Prize winning poem. Begin.

I start by looking out of my window; because the weather is so nice now, we sit at the outside-facing windows instead of the lobby-facing ones. As one could probably infer, I can see a lot more this way. Right now, a black woman with a reddish afro walks the walk of a free woman. Her leggings are black, her skin blacker. Flash. Give me malice. Flash.
Thanks to the wonderful world of nature, I'm able to put past the fears of finals, extinguish the ennui and solace of school, and look out into the sky, thanking God for the beautiful things. The birds are talkative, greeting those who pass. The sky is invisible from the clouds, though they are not dark. A unique ambiance shrouds the campus as the sun peeks its way through a hole in the vast sky. The breeze manages to reach me through the hole in the window. Now a guy on a bike is about to walk up to the window.

Segment 3.

I may go back on what I said
A poem's not the way to go
It's proved to be more difficult
To write a poem in the snow
You may ask, "that really true?
it's hard to write a poem cold?"
And I say "Yes, YES, my dear boy,
cold fingers make for colder toes."
Outside the box there stands a lass
Her hair is blonde her vest is black
She holds a microphone in hand
Two cameramen, she brought along to tell her if her work's too tack.
Oh man with headphones on the path,
You ask for me, you get my wrath.

Segment 4.

If I'm not mistaken, this post has been called the Iliad of posts. Long, strenuous to read, unentertaining. I apologize for my fervor. But, as the poem says, "You ask for me, you get my wrath," and my wrath you have been served, my friends! So, word to ya motha, ask for anotha, give me a topic and you I'll no longer smotha.

Good night, and good luck.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


It recently dawned on me that I have a small desire to be a writer. I don't have any ideas for a book by any means, but to be able to create a story and deliver it with style and fluidity seems like the type of thing I would love to do. I love writing (random writing, not essays) and I personally feel that I'm pretty good at it. I don't really know if I am or not, but if I had to judge the quality of my posts so far I'd give my self at least a B+, perhaps even an A. The only problem is the story. I need to make up some kind of story that would be interesting and exciting and complex and fully thought out. How should I do this? What does it take? I may start by reading Stephen King's On Writing... I need to learn the writing process of a novelist. Do ideas just come to him? Her? How do ideas form? I don't know. No one is going to read this anyway, but if I want my farfetched aspirations to go anywhere I guess I need to practice writing. Maybe I should practice by writing descriptions and dialogs of my day to build my descriptive and dialog skills. Yes, that's what I'll do. From now on World, you will be the audience of my days here in Conway. I hope you enjoy your stay.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Why isn't life simple?

The perfect life for me would be one that I could live in peace and do what I want. Not alone, but with all of my friends and girlfriend and family. No one would have to go to school, no electronics, no technology. Food would be easy to come by, but we'd have to gather it. Everyone would be extremely healthy because we'd always be active and eating healthily. Everything we consumed would be natural. EVERYTHING. The only things we'd have that were technologically advanced are toilets. We'd live in teepees and have animals and maybe a dragon or two. Yeah, that'd be the good life.

Unfortunately, I'm stuck in the never-ending circle of boredom in which you go to college, get a job, and support yourself and family. Everything is so corporate these days. Why can't we break out of this mold that everyone has to fit into? It's ridiculous. I think life would be much better without all of the technology we have today and it was all just simple. Wars wouldn't exist, and everyone would be happy. Let's go back to pre-settler days. Let's be Crow or Sioux. Maybe Cherokee.

Monday, April 12, 2010


I never thought that senioritis was so prevalent in college. I do less here than I did in high school. It's quite pathetic, but I can't get into a rhythm because the one thing I'm so far behind in I have no chance of catching up. It's my fault; I wanted another challenge and what not, plus I thought that's what I wanted to do, but I've found that if I were a salesman I could do what I do best: learn as much as I can about a product and bug the shit out of people about all the great things it does and what the competitor doesn't. I'm good at that, and I feel like I should do that. So, I say screw programming. I'm too far in a hole to get out of and it keeps piling on every day. I'm doomed in that class, so why waste my time on something that won't pay off anyway?

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

4 Weeks From Now

That's right. 4 short weeks from today and I will be finished with my freshman year at the good 'ole U of A. I'm really excited about it getting finished. It's been a rough year (partially because of my laziness, partially because of my...laziness) and I'm really really looking forward to starting over at a new school with a new campus and new books and new teachers and an entirely new atmosphere that I can (hopefully) easily create a new rhythm. I will work hard next semester because I'll have less time and I'll be much busier. (P.S. I'm about to throw up right now listening to Dr. Beavers attempt to explain the ancient language understood only by well-learned scholars and geniuses that is C++ Programming. ugh...). I think I'll go over the reasons I'm excited about leaving and being finished with this semester:
1. Programming
2. I have a Programming assignment due Friday
3. I don't understand Programming
4. Programming is going to kill me
5. I should just leave Programming to Programmers
6. 3 more Programming labs
7. Programming
8. Programming
9. You guessed it
10. I get to live in my own house!

So, anybody see a pattern? Me too. I'm thinkin' it's programming.

Attempt to define Programming:

Programming: 1. n. A mixture of old Japanese torture techniques, Latin, Honors Discrete Mathematics, monotony, boredom, weekly quizzes, Harry Potter-sized textbook, and Satan.

Enough with my whining about Programming. Hopefully this summer won't be too busy and I can earn myself gobs of money. I need money. It's what you need to buy things and survive, and I don't have any, so do the logic. Soon, I will die.

P.S. I was pretty excited for about 2 months that I would get to see Girl Talk this Friday, but my wristband dealer came up dry and gave our shit to someone else. So much for Em and me getting high on sick DJ beats.

This has been Taylor, signing off.

Friday, March 26, 2010


Pretty cool night. I shared a bottle of wine and a cigar with my dad. It was a bonding experience.
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