.... The Messy Mind of J'rod: January 2008
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Sunday, January 06, 2008

Last Day Off / Last Five Minutes

My vacation has winded down, and tomorrow I'm back in school. I should say that I've had a pretty good past few weeks. I've tried to get in all I could and see as many people as possible, with more than moderate success. And now it's time to go back into hiding as Psychology and English make their attempt to ram more information into my brain.
I still haven't received my grades, and am still on three waiting lists. I wish UofT paperwork went through a lot faster.

So here are my classes for second semester:
Physiological Psychology (Yes, those are two different words)
Learning Psychology (aka, the Psychology of Learning)
(II trap) erutaretiL hsiweJ
and, tentatively...
Critical Approaches to Literature (If my 3 of 50 standing on the waiting list goes through)

Hey, here's a question... Does anyone still read blogs now that Facebook has become the dominant way of keeping in contact with one another? I mean, if someone wants to know how I'm doing, they need only look me up on the F'Book. Do people still use MSN Messenger? ICQ? Hotmail? DOS?
Maybe my blogs should be less about me, and more fiction. Okay, here goes:

"I knew I shouldn't have said that to Mr. Creed, but hey, it was my last five minutes on Earth anyway. What did I have to lose?

"My arm was getting tired from holding up a sawed-off shotgun for the last seven and a half minutes, but dropping it meant a premature death. And what was I holding on too, but five -- make that four minutes and forty-three seconds of gut wrenching, heart pounding adrenaline? Why did I need those extra seconds of life? So that I could spit the blood from my gums into the face of Mr. Creed, and relay my typical 'go to Hades' catch phrase as the last words I ever utter?
"My forehead sat between at least three cross-hairs, all in front of the watchful eyes of Creed's personal security. Should I so much as flinch my trigger finger, the entire floor would be scattered with the remains of my face, and to think when I combed my hair this morning it looked perfect! At least I was going to go out with a bang.
"No one else in the galaxy had ever accomplished the impossible task of bedding Mrs. Creed, the most beautiful and exotic woman known to man. I'll be known throughout every bar and tavern as the one who slipped through the cracks of Creed's vigilant alertness. My face will be the one he will always see at the corner of his eye, when he suspects his wife is cheating. My name will be placed in every joke written against him to piss him off. I will be the one who makes him... oops, times up."

This story was loosely based on a dream I had several nights ago.