I’m torn.  I really am.

Make no mistake, I hated a great deal of this summer.  I mean no disservice to friends and loved ones, by no means were you the responsible parties for my miserable state.  But by and by, the occupation which afforded me oh so many luxuries also robbed me of my soul, my time, my sleep, and perhaps most important, my sense of value.  Yet, it afforded me the time when I was not trapped inside the concrete canverns of carnality to truly appreciate the freedom from the work that follows one home that a brain-dead job such as the one I had provides.  I would come home, shower, pop on the tv, or flip open my trusty funny-books and escape from the dreaded countdown for as long as I could.

But now, that’s all over.  Hence the dillema.  Now that I’m a student again, I must remember that when the day’s “done”, it’s not DONE.  Hell, it most cases it’s simply beginning.  Now bridled with a new docket of reading requirements atop my summer “projects” (1984, Aint No Makin’ It, and other such books Lindsay suggested I read) as well as the weekly illustrated escapes (da comics), and the ever pressing need to slaughter the undead hordes in Dead Rising, balancing things have become very difficult in my head.  I mean sure, it’s not hard, you just say “I’m doing homework now!”, and y’know, do that there homework.  But if all you’re doing while trying to finish reading about the ever important controversy over the applicability of Balance of Power Theory of Warfare is imagine how Matt Murdock or Peter Parker or some other alliteratively named bastard (or bastardess, it’s all fair in Tim’s Politically Correct Fairyland [wait, can I even call it that?]) what’s the point of reading the boring stuff?  Why not just, y’know sneak a peek, maybe an issue or two?
Even now, as I write this I ought to be reading.  Hell, I found out today that I’ve a 20 page paper (not including bibliography, mind you) due in but 15 weeks, and most likely another of equal length due in a similar time scale.  It’s terrifying.  The worst of it all is all I wanna do is just lie in bed and not even think about it.  By no means am I freaking out, everything will be fine, but it’s a sharp contrast to what I was doing last week, which was watching “Judging Amy” for two hours a day and playing with Lindsay’s dog, Shaq.  I swear, I have a list of things to do that is a notebook page front and back.  Oh school!

I observed “Serpents Upon an Aircraft” last evening.  I spent most of it spazzing within my seat.  Not because I’m afraid of snakes.  Not because I’m afraid of planes (though I do consider them to be witchcraft.  Aviation is the work of the devil.  Think about Bernoulii’s Law for more than 35 seconds and your head will begin to hemmorrage profusely.  Try it.  I’m serious. Witchcraft. Honestly.).  No, the real reason I was spazzing about so greatly was the fact that the movie really had one type of thing going for it. and that was–

BOO!

Were you scared just then?  No?  See, I can’t do it as well as they do.  But they did it.  Every 30- 92 seconds really.  Even at the end, which really wasn’t an ending.  I wanted to see Eddie Kim be punished for his crimes.  We dont’ even get to see him arrested?  How lame is that?  Here is an extensive list of questions I have about SOAP.  Please answer them if you can.

1) Why is it that S.L. Jackson plays it totally cool throughout the entire film, until at one point he suddenly snaps for no particular reason, and shoots out airplane windows where passengers are sitting?  Why not shoot out the lower levels?  And why not just stab the snakes in the cockpit like they’d done in the other places?

2) Am I the only person who thought that the kickboxing guy worked for Eddie Kim, and was going to show his true colors at the most inconvient time possible?  (I’m glad he didn’t by the way)

3) How in the hell were the teams at the landing going to be able to administer the proper anti-venoms?  I mean, no one knew what snakes had bitten them other than the small boy’s brother, who instead of being a proper brother and taking the snake bite for his sibling, simply drew a “pretty picture of a python” (JK I knew it was a cobra).

4) How did snakes mess up the engines so that they had to slow down?  Even if it was lightning, why not just cancel the flight if they thought that lightning could damage the plane?

This is just the first volume of questions I have.  The movie was fun, no mistake, but it made not a lick of goddamn sense.  Those mutha fuckas.

The Yes Men gave a lecture tonight at the library.  It was highly entertaining if not mostly just a clipshow of previous exploits, hilarious as they were.  And now if you’ll excuse me, I need to read a couple dozen pages on neuron transmission, and by that I mean slay quite a few hundred zombies in a very un-ceremonious manor.  Good day!

Oh.  One last thing.  Architecture in Helsinki is playing in Omaha on the 5 of October (that’s a thursday)  I’m going to go see ‘em!  Anyone else up for a Sokol Adventure?
Such a long post.  I was due though.