It finally happened

it's the 31st of March. I've been here now oh, about 6 and a half months. I've had school for about 5 of those, and now all the rough stuff is over, I had my last class a week ago and handed in my last paper today. Now all that's left is two exams and a 15000 word dissertation, no problem. My exams are happening on the 8th and 18th of may, so really I just need to figure out what to do to fill the time. Eventually I'll get productive but in the meantime I've decided to relax, though I'm not sure how. I think Paris is calling, even though it seems to be in a state of civil unrest it could be good times, I've never been in a Parisian jail could be good times. So yeah, I just handed in that paper this afternoon, and now I'm done. Can't seem to find any one to go out with for the most part people were done last week and since have scattered to the wind... so yeah... yep...

He cleared his throat and spoke softly, grufly, "you have no idea what I've been through." Saddly, this was true. There was no real way of knowing.

Gah, I think I'm going to get a book to read, something light and easy just to get my mind off school and whatnot. I've been quite proud of my recent paper, well not necessarily the paper itself but more the method with which it came into being. I made myself go to the library, I sat down and pontificated, I made a bunch of notes, asked the right questions and then simply had to put them together afterwards. seems like the way it's supposed to be done. It's too bad that I hadn't figured it out sooner. I guess it doesn't matter too much, the dissertation is the really important part right? it's the thing that's going to stick around. I hope it'll be good. I figure it could go either way. Either it'll be great, or it'll be terrible. though chances are like most things I write, it'll be mediocre. At least right now the title's cool "an evolution and future of leadership in a post-hero society" whatever that means...

I'm really rather bored. I'm thinking about doing some reading, but I have a feeling that if I read I'll fall asleep, and seeing I just had a nap the sleep won't be nearly long enough and I'll wake up bright as a daisy at about 330am. yep... well I think I'm done here, until next time.

is it special?

Well you're in luck, today you're receiving a double post. Mostly I blame my mind set, though fault could lie with the kebab I recently regretfully consumed, no matter. Here I am, it's quarter to nine and my mind is no where near my paper. I think maybe I just need to get the juices flowing for this next triumph of fiction, but then it didn't work before so I have little reason to think that it'll work this time.

It was 430 in the morning when I noticed the ether... I should have known there was ether involved, it had all the mind-numbing delusional symptoms of an ether binge. The castrated monkey in the corner pointed the way through his shivering as he remembered the loss of his most heated members. His hand, outstretched lead the way down the coridor to the library... it was there that I knew I would find him. Ever since the fight Herald had been acting strange, midnight calls and warm tequilla baths were the lesser of our worries, it was the live emu fights that were catching our attention and progressing our concern. Things had only been getting worse.

Entering the library there was an inch of what could only be tequilla covering the floor, obviously his bath had overflowed, but as mentioned, it was of little concern. Herald was a collecter of things, and during his time as a successful prize fighter he had accumulated a vast reserve of nothing. Nothing in that he had very much of something but really it never amounted to anything. His library was filled with copy upon copy of the history of accountant financing for idiots, he had 600 copies, and ontop of that he had never read one or even opened one. Harold prefered kittens, six of which could be seen stumbling around in corner of the library, purring loudly hugging each other and singing old war tunes, again, it's little of our concern. Harold had come to the believe that he was able to read kittens, an act that he greatly enjoyed and spent much time practicing. I had never gotten the knack for it, or rather I never found anything the kittens had said to be of much interest. Harold was obscessed. He began branching out towards what he hoped would be more fulfilling types of animal reading. As easily infered, he had tried his hand at monkey reading but it ended badly. Other animals, penguins, puppies, beetles, tropical fish, had seemed more promising but alas all had ended the same way. Perhaps that was it, maybe he snapped under the weight of his academia? But Harold wasn't like that... it had to be the fight.

The fight was on a saturday night, the main event and culmination of a week of prize fights. One million to this winner... there was a lot of stress. Harold had it all undercontrol though, it was nothing new to him. Just another day at the office, for him, it was in the bag. His opponent was a 600lbs endangered baby black rhino, he'd fought black rhino before and it would be nothing new this time. They gathered in the ring and after knocking gloves they when to their respective corners. Harold was drinking tequilla... so was the rhino. There was a problem the bell was broken, minuts passed with inaction. No one knew what to do. Eventually the local texan produced a pistol. He struck the bell with the handle of the weapon. The sudden jolting from rest startled the rhino and he charged. The charge frightened Harold who quickly emptied his wallot on the canvas and was last seen wandering the streets of sandiego naked but for his gloves and a medallion of the Albanian double headed eagle. It was clear that he had lost his nerve.

What's the worse night's sleep you've ever had?

This question came to me in reflection of the past two nights. The first fueled by a constant waking and general restlesness. The second though comfortable enough was interupted early by the overpowering stench of fried garlic which had squeezed its way through two heavy fire doors to sit ever present beneath my nose. From these two unpleasant experiences I came to ask myself, indeed as I will hazard to ask you as well, what has been my worse night's sleep?

The answer came quickly to me. It was a friday night, I was on excersize with the Unit back home. The order came down to rack out, but with it the also came the cautionary to be ready to move. I, being younger and more foolish then a I presently claim to be, decided that I would be smart and lazy. I decided that instead of laying out my sleeping bag and airmatraise, and getting undressed, that I would just lay on the ground fully dressed in anticipation of the move. Within minutes I felt the heat sucked out of my body, but being headstrong and determined to be clever stuck it out. Eventually I clawed my fleece jacket out of my rucksack careful not to disturb the pack anymore than possible so that in a flash I would be able be up and gone. I curled up in my fleece and drapped my gortex jacket overtop but still there was no relief. The october night was brisk, and the realizing that I needed something more than my uniform between me and the cold earth I climbed on top of my rucksack and huddled in the faetal position. Of the entire night I think 15 min might have been the extent of my slumber. Morning came almost nine hours from the time the order came down to go to ground. I could have slept soundly for longer than some of the nights during the week.

That experience makes me think of my best sleep. Again on excersize with the army the order came down to go to ground but this time(though I can't remember whether it came before of after the last experience recounted) I rolled out my air mattraise and sleeping bag, got undressed, placed my glasses in my boot along with my watch and using my fleece jacket as a pillow, preceeded to the land of Nod. I slept soundly for about nine hours and despite the initial shock of waking up between two men uncomfortably close, to the sound of incoming artilery and small arms fire.

For the recorde, I prefer waking up to the sound of artilery than the rude stench of fried garlic. Especially when it's not being cooked for me.

Getting my groove

So I've been alternating between my room and the kitchen all day(weekend) trying hoping to get distracted from writing my paper, and on many occassions it has worked just like that. But I've come to the realization that it really needs to get done so recently I've been alternating between my desk and my bed, hoping that the little 'cat naps' would help with the creative juices... unfortunately I'm just now well rested and equally as uncreative. Now I've begun to think that all I need is to get my fingers in the game, maybe if my muscles are doing the thinking then I won't have to and I can try to pass of typos as insight. From that I've decided to do another 'blog' entry. I bet you're curious as to what my paper is about eh? you're so kind to ask.

It's a comparative paper between Niccolo Machiavelli's The Prince, and Fredy Nietzsche's On the Genealogy of Morals. I've identified 4 themes which run through both texts and I've planing to just compare theme, it's pretty cut and dry eh? I don't know why I'm having these troubles getting started. I've even done a presentation on the very subject! First you ask what the paper's about, and now you're asking what are the four themes I'll be talking about? wow you're either incredibly bored or really interested, I'd put my money on the former. Well the four themes are; Fear, Will, Good and Bad/evil, and the creation of the uneven battle field. That's them. Not as cut and dry as they could be but that's what makes things interesting... especially, I find the last one very interesting.

Looking out my window I can see a bunch of guys playing polo on bicycles... I think it's rather strange but I guess I am in england eh. They were playing cricket the other day. Last night I made a Brisket, it was glorious. I quickly fried the outside to keep the juices in, the I threw it in a baking pan with potatoes, onion, a red pepper, and apples, then just baked it on a relatively low tempurature for 3 hours. It was soo good, still is, I'll probably have some more tonight for dinner. I think I might have an idea to get going on the paper, I'll just start with what I can write, I'll start with writing about the uneven battlefield (I'm deliberately avoiding the use of the term asymetrical warfare, mostly because it quickly conjures images of insurgent warfare, what I'm takling about is so much more than just insurgency. So much more. It's all about escalation.) Alright, I should get on that, and if this peeks your interest first check make an appointment to see a doctor then give me an email.