i made a pretty big decision. i decided to pursue

the epik program, which is co-teaching english in korea. i will be having a conversation with someone who graduated from my university and took the same path.

in the process, i realized i have trouble making big decisions.

i absolutely love having someone i can tell anything to, and

it means a lot to me to have someone put a positive spin on my too-often pessimistic outlook.

i made this comment on someone's blog yesterday: having a positive attitude is something that always needs repeated.

i experienced a test today: to go this girlfriend's short-notice party or

hang out with the guys like i'd said i would earlier this morning.

what do you think?

visited with career services again and was directed to

the study abroad office to talk about teaching english in a foreign country. if anyone is like "what do i do with my life," you can do this. restrictions vary. some want high school graduation. some want bachelor's degrees. some require a 2.5 gpa and above. check out the peacecorps website first if you're interested because they can place someone in many places. most of the others are for asia.

http://www.peacecorps.gov/

http://piaweb.princeton.edu 

www.worldteach.org

www.jetprogramme.org

www.marshall.edu/gochina 

www.edb.gov.hk

www.epik.go.kr

my girlfriend and i are cool

i mean, i didn't ask further about her mom dying. in a way, i want to be completely open and ask her anything and tell her anything. so, it kind of sucks. i don't know where this relationship is going. kind of barely afloat.

here's a sample of my writing from a couple nights ago

taken from bat house--a long, strange thing that ends with a bat house which is the name of the two-story maze done in complete darkness at halloween festivals, at least where i'm form.

i just write it out by hand and then type it up, not really editing. so, you'll probably have to make an effort to understand some of it.

-----------------------------------------------

An image appeared in his mind; tennis ball under a coffee table. “If life was a tennis ball…no…if life was a tennis match…no, if life was a tennis game, then love-love.” He didn’t know what it meant, but, he never knew what he thought until those things appeared and he put meaning to it. “I love love,” he thought. “What is love? No. Who is love? Yes. Who do I love?”

He heard a sound. It was nice and soft at first, and then it took on meaning. It became something, intentional or not. Ben didn’t like it at first because that was a true genius—the person that hated it the most. But, he was ridiculous, laying on the ground. Who was he to judge the sound—the it? Who was Ben? Who was he in love with?

Aware that his own thoughts spoke in the third person, Ben prepared to encounter them! The others stopped, concerned. “They’re always worried,” Ben thought. “They’re always saying ‘Oh! My! God!’”

He felt the warmth of the headlights. Before the sound of slammed doors, he heard the shrieks. He could hear the female voice: “What is happening?” It wasn’t the thought he had expected. It was something he would have expected to have heard at the party he was at so long ago. (He asked himself how many hours ago).

He tried to move. He wanted to see the sky—God. He wanted to see into nothingness to see how far away it—he—was, but he couldn’t end it. He continued to stare at the red. He tried to see beyond it. He should have been looking at concrete. Instead, he was looking at color, and who knew what that meant? No one. Nothing.

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it doesn't bother me too much but it always happens...

why do couples always have to talk about their exes (ex-boyfriends or ex-girlfriends)?

a few reasons i came up with if it interests you: proof of status. proof of experience. just something to talk about because it was a large part of their life. a way to talk about things they have enjoyed and did not enjoy.

in a way it is good to talk about it.

really thought this post through as i was typing it out.

girl i just started dating told me yesterday

that her mom died two years ago.

and it's mother's day today.

i just didn't know what to say to her then and especially now. mother's day is almost over. i just decided to give her space and let her think. but it's an interesting situation.

i went to church with my family, visited the grandparents, and ordered pizza. how'd your day go?

went to the bars the night of my graduation and

found 60 dollars on the ground. did i have the right to take it?

graduating today

just my immediate family and grandparents coming to see me.

girl i met at the wedding last weekend not going. just don't know her well enough, but we're still talking a lot.

just getting a bachelor's in english. anyone have any experience with this? i'm thinking of teaching english as a second language in another country.

graduating from university

this saturday.

finals are

FINISHED.

calvin and hobbes post

Went to my friend's wedding

and ironically met the most amazing girl.

sometimes problems are out of your control

The hardest thing to do and the right thing to do

are usually the same thing.

today i am

writing a ten page paper that is due tomorrow at 1:00pm.

i may have found the da vinci code to paper writing.

raise more questions than answer.

grandpa is in the hospital and

i don't have time to visit him because i'm too busy writing papers for finals week.

my dad asked me

if i wanted to go with him somewhere for a half hour. i told him i had work.

finals week so

i'm going to leave notes around campus that say "everything's going to be okay."

i make the future a bit brighter by

leaving burned cds of my favorite albums around campus.

anyone else

nervous around people in the morning because you can't remember whether something you said to them was from yesterday or the dreams you just had?

sums up how i feel most times

what happened before that crazy dream

my friend retells a story that happened last night.

April 16, 2011 dream

I was in an arena playing basketball with some guys my own age and single-handedly winning the game for my team. The entire place was filled with people on the bleachers that surrounded the court on all sides and went to the ceiling that was about three stories high. And throughout the game there was a girl admiring me from my team's bench. After the game, she and I started talking and I felt a very good connection. She thought I was nice and all of that. I was talented. It was my birthday. I had a cake and everything immediately after the game, still in the arena.

Out of nowhere, I'm looking at the events from another point of view--another me. I'm seeing how no one is trying hard in the game, letting me score every shot, and the girl wasn't looking at me. She was talking, flirting, and touching another guy (clearly already in a relationship with that guy). And I take something like a glass box--maybe a trophy or a present--and hit that guy over the head. Everyone looks at me and I announce I know what's going. And then I run like hell behind the bleachers to these thick metal string-like things that are holding the bleacher together and to the wall and ceiling. I keep running up these things and looking behind me. Men in black police uniforms are chasing me and after continuing toward what appears to be a window, I realize I am not going to be able to get out of that window and even if I do I'm going to hurt myself with the fall. I reach it and sure enough there are the same thick metal string-like things covering the window preventing me from running away.

Then my alarm went off.

on my way home

i stopped at a red light and looked to my right where something was moving. it was a rabbit. and it looked like it wanted to cross the road. so, i waited to see if it would try to cross as i waited, but it couldn't make a decision, and then the light changed and i waited some more because i didn't know if it would make its way in front of the vehicle. well, i waited a while and then went as the light changed. and the rabbit was scared and turned away. while a car moved quickly down that lane where the rabbit nearly went in to. so, perhaps i saved its life. by scaring it.

writing jokes

i was raised with a poor sense of humor. one of my earliest memories is being in the car and seeing and hearing my dad point to the guy jogging on the side of the road and say "look, a road runner."

i was surprised to see family guy make a joke similar to one i thought of: i want a pet owl so i can name it dr. who.

as dumb as they are, i can't help write them down. last night my dogs were going "barbarbarbarbar" and i turned and said "you guys are alcoholics!"

http://www.reddit.com/r/writing

this was a nice place i went to frequently when i wanted to share ideas about short fiction. more importantly, it was a source for where to submit stories.

comeoncoffeeisblack2

because one was not enough.

i created the blogger account: http://comeoncoffeeisblack2.blogspot.com/

general music share thread.

also, i'm very happy to see an increase in followers. thanks.

just wanted to say thanks

to all of my FOLLOWERS.

I follow all of you as well and read and comment during my morning coffee.

sitting at the coffee shop

iron and wine's cover of "such great heights" comes on. i stopped what i was doing and just listened. and i can't recall having done that before.

video related. it's the song.

bcmagoo.blogspot.com

because this blog is very personal, i created bcmagoo.blogspot.com for wacky lulz. check it out, follow, comment. will return the favor.

Decided to narrow my interests into separate blogs.

this blog is going to be autobiographical. i have been keeping a journal for a long time. it's going to remain ANONYMOUS but the stories are still relatable.

in a few days, when i have more time, i will create a couple of off-shoots; a music blog, a strange fiction blog (i wrote some really disturbing, inappropriate stuff in high school), and a book blog (i just read this book for class, blah, blah, blah).

anyway. that's what i'm up to.

ps. looney tunes is on at 5 in the morning on cartoon network, if you're like me and need a reason to wake up early.

a-1 all that

education and drive part 1 (autobiographical)

School and education in general is a lot like driving a car.  The students tail-gate the teacher.  The students sometimes get frustrated and speed out into the night, only to run out of gas eventually…somewhere…

            I’m not a teacher yet, but I have been toying with the idea.  Throughout the day I become a teacher.  When I’m in the grocery store with someone and a child comes running out of nowhere, I say the child needs structure and activity—something with which their energy can be applied. 

            I have been focusing on the physical part of myself.  Psychology had taught me that there exists in everyone a brain and a mind.  My plan has been to exercise the body and that would exercise the brain.  My overall goal is to enhance the mind.

            Water hung in the air earlier this morning, and it reminded me of the way my body reacted to the cold water after a dozen laps.  It had been six in the morning and I had complete focus on the last thing that had importance—a dream about the abandoned houses on my block and the bit of 90s radio heard from the classic rock station playing from a late 80s stereo sitting next to some qualified lifeguard making money before their first class at the local community college.

            I had taken some classes at the local community college.  They had been summer courses with short drives from the house that had always been my home to the edge of town.  The drives always involved the window down and always involved sunglasses.  The sound of the memories are catchy lyrics and crunching guitars; Weezer’s album Maladroit.  And on the last day of the summer courses it always rains.  Fall begins and more courses like teaching methods for English teachers and the educational foundations, courses that make me something more than a well-rounded person with basic, general education with the likes of politics and psychology and speech.

            During today’s drive I didn’t have the window down.  My dad took it upon himself to fix the air-conditioner.  Since then, I’ve noticed a major difference with my appearance, especially my hair.  I don’t listen to Weezer anymore.  Instead, I pride myself with music like Antony and the Johnsons.  I pride myself in the emotion in the singing and the variety of instruments, like the violin and piano. 

I’m standing in the hallway of a school I may have attended once, and that was a long time ago.  I only know this because the gymnasium looks familiar.  The memory I have is of walking to the bench where my friends are sitting and watching my coach point to the court.  He tells me to go in.

            The teacher I’m working with is encouraging, but often I find the time passes me by when I hang out after class and talk about “what-if” in sports seasons; “Last night the Blackhawks had a chance to score against St. Louis, but the best player was in the penalty box.  But, what if he had been out there?”  And when we’re not talking about sports, the conversation is awkward, usually about how teaching was only supposed to be temporary, and then he got serious with his girlfriend and bought a cat.  They stayed together for the cat, and next thing, of course, the girlfriend is pregnant.

            It’s surreal to be accepted by the old, probably because a large part of youth is spent in competition with them; first, the young are like domesticated animals—say anything to them and they laugh.  When the youth gets older, much like society, a major paradigm shift occurs—the youth demand independence because the authority is wrong.

            From age 12 to 21 it appears that anger is bottled inside the mind as fuel for change.  The separation of youth and the old is underway and in the distance a war is about to be recognized.    What was once a war between youth and the old is a battle between individuals, members of the same species.

            I wasn’t born at the right time to see it happen but there are records of movements such as civil rights and animals rights.  First, black were not part of the same species.  Next, women were not part of the same species.  Now, we can see a question being raised about animals being a part of a grander picture—a grander concept of those that suffer.

            When I enter the school now as a 22 year-old, I am greeted with the kind of seemingly endless conversation that only the most deprived 20-something would go on about when I, unknown to the chaotic day’s events the individual has since suffered, as “What’s going on?” or “Hi, how are you?”  The point I’m making here: the same people who sit in your college courses and ramble un-apprehensively about their day, telling you their life story, also exist.

            Like in my youth, I know I can only get by so far by wearing nice clothes and working out like a motherfucker.  The first time I ran into this wall was with a girl named _____ Wallace (insert random first name).  Her last name said it all.  My life was a poker game and she won Ace-high.  What I worked hard to have came naturally to her.  What I learned from this was how to have someone completely, like taking over a territory, and then learn the land didn’t really belong to anyone.

            2010 election results.  I voted green party candidate, so my party didn’t win; however, I do have to act according to those default laws since I live here.  Clearly, then, the motto of my country is that the majority rules; multicultural relativism, to an extent.  Those who have studied ethics know that this only sounds good on the surface. 

            I was disappointed to discover the reality of my immediate society’s beliefs.  It was a shock, primarily because we all look incredible on the outside—well-groomed and smiling.  Personally, as an easily-frightened and socially awkward person, I believe that everyone I ever see is better and smarter.  Even those who look unkempt are balanced, smart, and trendy, with shoes they have worn for years and had repaired at the local cobbler and nice, button-up shirts that fit them perfectly because they know their neck size and arm length and eat a balanced diet and work out daily to remain fit.

            It was not until recently that I reached the source of my social anxiety.  I had to first infiltrate the social groups on a common subject and then shyly ask questions about human maintenance (hint; talk about music).  I currently work out twice a day except for Saturday—the only day off.  Doing the math just now, I see my workouts consume 4 hours of the total 16 hours I am awake.

a-1 black ranger

nostalgia.