On graduating

Some people, having gone through a similar situation in life called graduation, have shared their experiences with me. "It's anti-climatic, isn't it?" some might say. Well yes, it is, but it's not as if I expected an explosion of joyous hope and promise ro form an angelic aura around me as I walked across the stage to accept my faux-ploma from some guy I never met before.

On a typical warm May Friday afternoon, I made my way to the Bass Concert Hall, carrying in my hands a borrowed cap and the same gown I wore at high school graduation. I thought I had seamlessly evaded the $45 charge that UT had forced all the other graduates to pay for a one time use garment and a funny tasseled hat. I had not however known that in that $45 package was a white sash that everyone else was wearing, bearing the words "UT Commencement." It wasn't that I particularly cared that I was going to be the one with out one, it was that my mom probably wouldn't like it. Thankfully, for my mom's sake, they had extras there.

The ceremony was nice and short, thanks to it being a History-major only ceremony. Special guest pseudo-celebrity and UT history graduate Paul Bartholomew had an entertaining little speech. Thankfully there were no singing squirrels involved. My name was even pronounced correctly, by one of my old professors, after only a slight hesitation. The Austinbikes crew got a little rowdy in the stands, and after shaking hands with Guy-I-Don't-Know 1 and Guy-I-Don't-Know 2 and a few pictures, I returned to my seat. The rest of the ceremony was a predictable blur of clap-clap-clap, blah-blah-blah, and the school song I still don't know and mostly resent. You would think a school so proud and full of itself would be able to come up with something more creative than a weak "I've Been Working on the Railroad" knock off. The bright spot of the evening was going out and meeting the family and friends that really made my time at college memorable.

I have graduated and life is just the same and yet completely different. As vague and overly whimsical as that sounds, but it bears at least some truth. My head swirls with excitement, anxiety, fear, hope, and any other hokey juxtaposition of contradictory emotions you could think of. I'm on my own. I survived college. Next?

I heart Dille

History book excerpts

"...devoid of the officialese and the ideological gobbledegook which obfuscated all government and party statements."

I'm sorry, I don't seem to understand. I don't speak pretentious.

Swine Flu Inspires

If zombie violence bothers you, I suggest not watching...

Texas Heat

As I write this, I'm sitting in my room on the third floor of the condo I rent from. The ceiling fan is creaking in protest of being set to the highest setting and the Honeywell HT804 Super Turbo High Performance Fan is set to "Super Turbo High." The thermostat downstairs reads 86 degrees Fahrenheit, only 4 degrees below the 91 it is outside. The A/C works ( I think) so why would I subject myself to such discomfort? My roommate was gone for over 3 weeks in March/April and a week or so since. I'm not really at home much outside of sleeping hours, so I decided to experiment a little and find out just how little electricity I could use. Not really so much to save money or to be green, (ok, maybe a little) but just to see how little electricity I could use in a three-story condo. With the help of some mild weather, I've managed not to touch the thermostat for the past 2 months as it sadly waits in the off position. In conjunction with a minimal amount of dishwasher and washing machine loads it produced this result: A $38.89 utility bill came in the mail today.

Update: I just cracked. The A/C works and it is glorious. Ain't gonna get a utility bill like that one for a good long while.

Things I would do for Megan Fox:

1.) Start eating meat again
2.) Drink Miller Lite
3.) Listen to Chris Cornell

Why? Watch this video.

I may be graduating soon...

...but I'm never growing up.

What's the point?

Ultimate Power Dog Walker Housewife is out on Shoal Creek, doing what she does best, walking the dog with such deliberate force that can only be contained in full work out gear complete with sports bra, spandex, joggers hat, and iPod armband. As any experienced and courteous dog walker should, she totes along plastic bags for doggy clean up. When the situation arises, she picks up after Rosco's nature break, ties off the top of the baggy, and without skipping a beat, tosses the bag into the road and keeps on walking. I guess in a world where it seems more and more that courtesy is more of a pleasant surprise than an expectation, any feeble attempt should be welcomed, but can someone please tell me what the point of being courteous is if you're only going to go half ass it?