Baby steps to four o'clock! Baby steps to four o'clock!

At my current place of employment, a calendar hangs in the office where they take me when they want to yell at me. It's one of those city distributed deals that cheap citizens throw up on their fridge, or pantry, that lists all the months of the year. When a month passes, it is crossed out, as expected. Yesterday, a sixth month had a line drawn through it. Six more remain, but the point I'm making is that the year is half over.

We're closer to twenty aught nine than twenty aught seven.

It's just the way the poet Seal foretold it during that epic epic jam that occurred in space: Time keeps on slippin', slippin' into the future.

It is for that reason I've decided to create a list of Midseason Resolutions.

What are Midseason Resolutions? Well, I'll tell you:

On the first day of three-hundred and sixty-five days* the average person creates a list of resolutions to better themselves before the next set of three-hundred and sixty-five days. And every fall season, television networks create a new series of series to distract you from all the crying in your everyday life. The same result happens with both the resolutions and the television shows: Some are better than others. Some fly to great heights, some get a bird sucked in the engine before they even get off the run-way.

Some shows are cancelled, just like some resolutions are broken. The difference is that in the middle of the year, a new set of TV shows replace their fallen brethren that came before them. So, why not have Midseason Replacement Resolutions? Sure, they might end up cancelled after two episodes, but you might end with a Grey's Anatomy or an Office.

This year, I'm keeping my midseason resolutions simple:

1. Sort out entire life.

This includes finding a place to live, regaining my sense of purpose, finding my lost ambition, finally learn the ability to focus, and conquer my fear of cleaning the bathroom.

Should be easy and not-at-all too lofty.

Josh's Book Review: How I Paid For College

Fuck this book in its book-hole.

I read this book because I judged another book by its cover. That book: Attack of the Theater People. I thought, "Hey, making fun of theater people is fun. That book should be enjoyable." A bit of research revealed that Attack was a sequel to How I Paid For College, so I read that one first.

It's the story of a cocky-ass fattie who's "born to act and create," particularly in musical theatre. His dream in life is to get into Julliard, which he does, but then his father refuses to pay for it because he feels his son should get a real job. He then embarks on a series of adventures trying to raise the money, including lowering himself to the "normals" and getting a job.

I found myself routing against the main character the entire time, and the too-few moments when real-life would bitch-slap his ass. However, in the end, his behavior and constant belief that he's right, and everyone else misunderstands him, doesn't change, and is rewarded (However temporarily, because the sequel is all about his expulsion from Julliard when they, the bastards, try to teach him there may be more to life than what he knows).

I just realized as I wrote that last line that the circle is complete, and I just turned into every adult that nodded politely when I said I was going to have a career in comedy.

Damn idealistic kids. Get off my lawn.

*sixty-six sometimes. Like this time.