Holy MacLaren's

Tonight, as I do a few times every week, I sat unraveling the secrets of the universe with Andrew Clark. A thought popped into my head that I thought could work in a blog, and since the blog has been rather dry lately, I decided I might expound upon that thought right here for all of you wonderful ladies and gentlemen to read. I started writing, and I didn't like what came out, so I was about ready to call it quits (I'll have you know that I've started about three different posts in the last couple weeks, only to have them all crash and burn in a similar fashion). I expressed my frustration to Master Clark, at which time he welcomed me to the wonderful world of writing and told me to just beat myself into submission. Thus, here I am, pounding this out, for better or worse.

305. Now that was a room. I can't even count the number of hours I spent there during the first three years of my college experience, playing video games, watching movies, having nigh-meaningless discussions or earth-rending arguments, and launching into rants that would ignite the mellowest hearts in a virulent frenzy of irritated fervor. Actually, concerning the latter, 305 was where the Billcast was dubbed as such, due to my tendency to burst into the room and start griping vigorously about whatever happened to be bothering me at the moment. Sometimes we'd sit there long after we should have all gone to bed, with all the lights off (since all the residents of the room had actually been planning on going to bed), discussing the real stuff of life, which usually revolved around two central things: God and women. Sometimes we'd argue about the most extravagant absurdities, like whether Darth Vader or Sephiroth was more bad-a (this is an obvious choice, and anyone who goes for the namby-pamby, I-wish-I-was-a-girl, anime style villain from Final Fantasy VII has clearly taken a tumble from his rocker). There were times when something funny would be said or done, and we would all explode into laughter that wouldn't cease for a good fifteen minutes (HA HA HA). We had rock-offs in Guitar Hero, I one day miraculously became unbeatable at Puzzle Fighter, and we sat through many an episode of Friends. We even once watched an episode of Pokemon that gave several hundred Japanese kids seizures, and filmed ourselves doing so in case any of us fell victim.

Well that was a nice stroll down memory lane, and I'm sure I could come up with many more things to add to that list if I tried, but what of it? Well friends, what Andrew and I realized earlier was that 305 was like the MacLaren's of 22-3. It was a place where our group of friends could congregate every day and, if nothing else, just enjoy each other's company, just like Ted, Marshall, Lily, Barney, and Robin do at MacLaren's on How I Met Your Mother (great show, by the way. If you don't watch it, you are wrong). Unfortunately, now that college is over and we've all moved off 22-3, we don't have that luxury anymore. We're all split up in different parts of the continent (although we're all still on the east coast, for now, aside from that crazy Canadian who forced me to say "continent" instead of "country"), and we can't get together even on a semi-regular basis. The reunions thus far have been few and far between, and I know it will only get worse as time drags on and our lives get more and more complicated. After mulling this over for a bit, Andrew said "I wonder if life will ever be that way again."

Nope.

That sucks, doesn't it? I mean, maybe we'll develop a new routine with new friends, where we get together regularly to hang out after work and gripe about the "real world" and all its struggles, but the sad truth is that we'll rarely, if ever, have that same group of friends all together at one time, and we won't be able to just stop into 305 on a whim ever again. From here until the end of life as we know it, I won't be seeing much of my best friends anymore.

And then a thought struck me. "Until the end of life as we know it..." Well, the good news is, after life as we know it, we all get to chill in Heaven for the rest of eternity. And maybe there will be a 305 in Heaven, where we can all go when we get tired of singing hymns, as Kevin Dail would have us believe. And that, good people of earth, is an encouraging thought. I don't even need a mansion, just give me a recreation of 22-3, and I'd be all set. I, for one, wouldn't mind spending eternity in 305.

A Confession, A Confirmation, And A Consideration

What you are about to read may shock you. It's not easy for me to say this, especially in light of the convictions I've espoused over the last few years, and everything I've done to uphold them. But, in the interest of diversity and experimentation, and a deep-seated yearning to explore every aspect of the human experience, I feel my actions were justified. All I ask is that you read this with an open mind, and don't judge me for what I'm about to say.

I watched Batman Begins the other day, and I didn't hate it. Okay, that wasn't hard to say at all. In all honesty, I think it was a pretty friggin cool movie. This was my first viewing of that motion picture since the first time I saw it on DVD in the fall of 2005. I've come to the conclusion that the reason I hated it so much when I first saw it was because I was under the faulty impression that it was boring, due to the fact that I was falling asleep the entire time I watched it. I have, several times since then in fact, suspected that the movie was not actually boring, but that I was simply too tired to stay awake for the duration. When my 5 year old brother, who has been on a Batman kick recently, requested to watch it, I, wide awake, decided to give the movie another chance and sit down and watch it with him. Frankly, I was riveted. Granted, it's no Spider-Man 2, but it was a cool movie in its own right, and definitely worthy of being a setup to the masterpiece that was The Dark Knight. I suppose my biggest gripe with it (aside from the ninja training, which I don't think I'll ever accept) was the fact that it was a little too drawn out, and the villains lacked substance. On its own, it's okay, but I think it's best viewed as a feature-length introduction to The Dark Knight, and honestly, I'm fine with that.

On to the next item of business: I can confirm that that rumors you may have heard are true. I will be in Virginia from May 6th to May 16th. Sean and Becca are getting married on May 8th in Fairfax, and naturally there's no way I would miss that. Of course, I could always just skip town after the wedding and head back up to New York, but you all know that's not how I roll. Thus, I'll be in Lynchburg for the last remaining days of the semester, and I'll be leaving the day after graduation. Needless to say, I'm pretty excited, both at the prospect of seeing two good friends receive their license to get it on, and at the opportunity to spend another week in Lynchburg before I more than likely never go back.

It does weird me out a little bit though. For one thing, I was supposed to be getting my Masters Degree at this upcoming commencement ceremony, but, with things the way they are, I'll just be watching from the stands. In truth, I'm not all that disappointed; I never really did see myself getting that degree anyway. The thing that really freaks me out though is that the kids who were freshmen when I was a junior are now graduating seniors. All those weird guys that descended on 22-3 while my mind was clouded with other things are about to be college graduates. This makes me feel old. And what's worse, time is not slowing down. Quite the contrary, in fact; it goes by more quickly now than ever. I'm 23 years old and I'm afraid the best days of my life are over. Nay, afraid is not quite the right term; "fairly certain" is a much better way of putting it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not grumbling about my current circumstances (I'll save that for another post when I'm in a bad mood), I'm just acknowledging that my life has reached a stage with which I am not all that pleased, and there's nothing I can do about it because you can't rewind time. I'm not sure that I'd want to rewind time even if I could though. I'd probably screw more things up than anything else.

I guess that's the best I can do with what's rattling around in my head right now. I find lately that it's getting harder and harder to nail down exactly what it is I want to say. Usually I've got one or two overarching themes that branch out into numerous subthemes with their own motifs and nuances, but it's hard to wrangle them all into one cohesive post without venturing into ramble territory. Maybe I'm just getting senile.

I'M DONE WITH THIS

I was notified earlier this evening that one of the greatest sports franchises in the history of athletic competition had just played its last game. At this point, details are scarce, but one thing is certain: Unauthorized volleyball is no more.

We were never very good, at least not while I was on the team, but that wasn't a huge problem for me. It was a rather unusual circumstance, because typically, in any sport/game/contest/challenge, as far as I'm concerned, winning is everything. I suppose being smacked in the face by the fact that you suck quite hard changes one's outlook on that kind of thing. After I realized we weren't ever really going to be all that good (a realization that came during our first game in the Fall of 2005), it became less about winning and more about just having a good time playing volleyball with my friends.

I reference the Fall semester 0f 2005 as the first semester of Unauthorized volleyball, but technically speaking it was the second. Alas, I was not a founding member of the team when it received its name, but as far as I'm concerned, that iteration of the team was only a precursor, a preview, a prophecy of the glory that was to come in the following years. Interestingly enough, that very first semester (Fall '04) yielded a team much more skilled than the team of the golden age, and in a similar fashion, the team in its final year (Fall '09 - Spring '10) was likewise much better than any of the middle years. In fact, the Fall '04 team fluked its way into the championship game (and lost), a feat that was never repeated. But the Fall '04 semester was Unauthorized in name only; the true legacy began the following year under the guidance of Ryan Trammell.

That year was a very interesting one, on and off the court, largely due to the drama that follows you around like a stormy cloud whenever you get yourself involved with one or more women. All drama aside, though, it was a great experience. For starters, I crafted my signature move, the Dragon Fist, during our long, hard practice sessions on the grainy courts of David's Place. Our first-ever victory came on Halloween in 2005, something like 8 games into the 13-or-so game season. For that special occasion (Halloween, that is, not the unforeseeable win), we all arrived at the game dressed in costumes and played with as much of our costumes on as we comfortably could (I, for instance, came as the Phantom of the Opera, which was not befitting of a volleyball game; thus, I took off my coat, cape, and mask, and was then mistaken for a Mormon missionary). The Fall '05 semester also saw the creation of the legendary Unauthorized shirts, which were painstakingly hand-drawn one CFAW weekend in November so that we could wear them for the playoffs a couple weeks later.

After undergoing a change in leadership between semesters, Unauthorized returned to the Liberty IMS scene in the Spring of 2006 with Danny Latin as the captain. It was during this semester that we discovered the mystical power of the Underoath DVD. After we discovered how awesome the Underoath DVD was, we decided that watching it before games would be a good way to get ourselves pumped up. The guys on the team (which, at that point, were myself, Danny Latin, Andrew Clark, Jamie Newman, Phil Worthington, and Ryan, who would come whenever he wasn't working) did just that before a game during the middle of the Spring '06 season, and lo and behold, we emerged from that game with a win under our belts. We decided to watch it again before the next game, and yet again, we won. I think we got three or four wins in a row this way, but ultimately the Underoath DVD lost its magical charm. Still, it gave us a bunch of awesome phrases to use during the games. One of our favorites, "I'M DONE WITH THIS," perfectly encapsulated the end of that season. One of the girls on our team, Apryl, had a bad habit of using her feet to hit the ball instead of her arms. During a playoff game (the second one, I think), it was game point for the other team, and the ball went out of bounds a few feet. It was still easily retrievable, and Apryl went after it, but instead of bumping the ball back into play, she decided to give it a good kick. The ball went flying off into the distance. I'M DONE WITH THIS. Season over.

In my mind, the '05-'06 school year was the definitive year of Unauthorized volleyball. We were worse that year than any other, but that was the only year all the core players were on the team both semesters. There was a hiatus during the '06-'07 school year for lack of girls, but thanks to Vanessa, we got a few girls together for the following year and Unauthorized was reborn. By that point, Danny Latin had already defected to Dann McGavisk's team (due to the year-long absence of Unauthorized), and the Fall '07 semester was one of the wackiest in history (which stands to reason, as I had taken up the mantle of team captain). Andrew Clark was back and Aaron Goslar and Corey McCoy had joined the team, but Ryan was gone and Jamie was only there intermittently, since he was on a ministry team and was often off with them doing ministry gigs to benefit the youth of America. Probably the most historic addition to the team in that semester was one Miss Jessica Bowman, not only because she was one of the most reliable girls the team had ever seen (and, for the record, one of the very few girls I would actually consider a good friend), but also since she would change the relationship metagame not long afterwards.

During the Fall '07 semester, we would use a bunch of random phrases for our team cheers (for example: "Nut-butts on 3 - 1, 2, 3, NUT-BUTTS!") after time-outs and at the end of games (we never used a single phrase more than once, in fact), but we never used the team name as one of those cheers until after our very last game. In addition, that was the semester that Coach Bill's 3 P's of Volleyball were introduced. Unfortunately, I can't for the life of me remember what the first two P's were; as far as I know, the only one anyone remembers is the third P, P-move, which was mentioned because many times people would stand still on the court and not make much of an effort to actually get to the ball, a habit that irritated the heck outta me. The Spring '08 semester witnessed not only the return of Ryan Trammell, but also Danny Latin, who, while returning to his volleyball roots, helped kill off the random phrase cheer. He also made our team a lot better, so I can't really complain, and in truth, it was rather silly.

The '08-'09 school year didn't see any major shifts in the paradigm of the team. The remaining core members, myself and Danny Latin, recruited some new girls, and our team improved in skill, but still stayed true to its roots of being pretty bad and having a good time with it. We also managed to get Phil Worthington back on the team after two-and-a-half years, and in the Spring semester we were finally able to enlist the aid of Aaron Crawford. We weren't nearly as unhinged as we had been the year before, but we were actually starting to shape up into a half-decent team. Plus, for the first time ever, we had fans. A real, live, honest-to-goodness cheering section came to watch us play on more than one occasion. Friends from our dorm and sister dorm actually came multiple times to root for us, an unprecedented scenario in the history of Unauthorized volleyball. And, in what would, unbeknownst to me, be my last semester on the team, the Dragon Fist finally, and for perhaps the only time ever, performed a useful function in a game. One of the former club team players had his own team, and he had a nasty serve. I was playing in the back middle, and his diving line drive serve was coming right at me. I instinctively threw the Dragon Fist up in front of my face and watched as, in slow motion, the ball skimmed just over the top of the net, then lasered downward without warning, right underneath the stomach of the server as he dove to try and save it. His wide-eyed expression at so sudden a return of one of his formerly indomitable serves was one of the most fulfilling things I ever witnessed in a volleyball game.

I suppose that's where my input on the matter ends. My last intramural volleyball game was against our bitter rivals, the Spartans (the second incarnation of Dann McGavisk's team). They were a very good team, but we gave them a game, losing by only a few points each time. I think that was the best I've ever seen our team play together, and I was not ashamed in the least. In fact, I can't think of a more appropriate way I could have ended my run as captain of Unauthorized. When I didn't come back to Liberty at the beginning of this year, Danny Latin took over as captain, but he was the last core member left. Jess and Phil were still on the team, and they recruited some new girls who were actually quite good, which was, as far as I'm concerned, total culture shock for Unauthorized. But like I said, I wasn't there (I did see a few games when I visited in the Fall, and I can confirm that they were very good, but that's about all I saw), so I don't have much to say on the matter. I do know, though, that being a good team was never one of Unauthorized's characteristics, so it would have been a little weird for me had I been there. Nevertheless, it would have been pretty cool, and I'm glad they carried on the legacy and actually made progress with the team.

Unfortunately, now the season is over, and with its passing, so too passes the legacy of Unauthorized. I guess this is something of an extended obituary for the team, and I guess this post is also probably meaningless to most, but hopefully I've captured some of the memorable moments for those of us that lived it. I had some great times with some great people during those three years that I played, and though we were never very good, we had a lot of fun together. And now, after reiterating for the thousandth time that I don't know James, and warning everyone not to swim with gators or sharks, I can say with finality:

I'M DONE WITH THIS.

This Is All Andrew's Fault

As I sit listening to the dull whine of my video camera playing back a tape and sending its digital signal into my computer via firewire cord, I am taken back 365 days to a cataclysmic event; an event which future generations will, no doubt, regard as a turning point in mankind's tumultuous history; a date when the great mysteries of life slowly but surely began to be solved, the answers compiled for the benefit of all the world, leading to a brighter future and a better tomorrow.

So I started my blog a year ago today. This is, naturally, cause for a minor degree of celebration, because I've never kept a blog going for this long before (frankly, it's hard to believe a whole year has gone by since one Andrew Clark finally persuaded me to join his sinister blogging ring).

I also find it poetically fitting that on the birthday of my blog, a faithful sidekick of mine for this first year of bloggery finally went home to be with the Lord. The adapter to my laptop power cord died today, after a seven month fight with internal wire degeneration. Frequent repositioning of the cord and electrical tape therapy helped stave off some of the symptoms of the disease, but the end was inevitable. In a desperate attempt to save the cord's life, Dr. Chris performed an experimental soldering surgical procedure, but alas, the miracle we hoped for was not to be.

It is with a heavy heart that I lay my adapter to rest; this was the adapter that came with the first laptop I ever purchased, the laptop that came to my rescue in a dark hour. It was early October, 2008, just hours before the official start of Fall Break. As I made my way ponderously back from class, anticipating the freedom offered by a long weekend in Damascus, Maryland, little did I know that while I was gone, my beloved desktop had gone into cardiac arrest. It died shortly thereafter of power supply failure, sending a surge of electricity through the entire machine and frying everything in it, rendering it completely unusable. Unfortunately, time stops for no grad student, and I had assignments to finish. It was necessary to purchase a laptop to help me get through the rest of the semester, so after a long and thorough search (aided by the wisdom and car of Danny Latin), I decided on a shiny new Toshiba. At that point, I intended for it to be my primary computer for the rest of the semester, until I could get my desktop fixed. I was unaware, however, that my desktop would have to be completely rebuilt, and because of that, my laptop became a constant companion for the rest of the school year.

The good news is, the laptop itself is not dead. Right now, it's in a medically induced coma, patiently awaiting an adapter transplant. Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, the new adapter should be here within the week, and my laptop will be restored to its vibrant life once more. Fortunately, my deceased desktop has since been rebuilt, and although its original innards are no longer functional, the case still stands as a monument to its four years of selfless service. It is with that desktop that I type this blog. This is as powerful a computing machine as I myself have ever possessed, and it is superb for video editing, but I've grown accustomed to the sleek keys of my laptop, so typing on this mountainous and klackety keyboard feels about as natural as doing calligraphy with a crayon. For that reason, I'm gonna hold off on any more blogs until I get my laptop up and running again, but I wanted make sure I documented this simultaneously joyous and solemn occasion.

Finally, to bring this post full circle, I'd like to give a big shout-out to all the girls out there who make life so utterly, obnoxiously confounding with your irrational, impulsive, emotionally driven disregard for practicality and common sense, and most of all, your impetuous inability to recognize real value, tangible or otherwise. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have nearly as much to write about, so this blog owes you all its deepest thanks.

2009 From One Month Removed (With A Foreword By Me)

Foreword:
I seem to have a problem getting posts started because I get bogged down in these long-winded introductory paragraphs that end up going nowhere, and then I abandon said posts with frustration at my inability to concisely express my thoughts.

Well, I solved that problem.

I wanted to start this year with a look back at the year that just passed, but I haven't gotten around to it until just now. Yes, we've already ended one month of the current year, but if you don't like the fact that I'm doing a retrospective in February, you can shove it. This is my blog, and I'll do what I want with it.

So without further ado, I present to you "2009: The Year That Was Last Year." Enjoy.
-Bill


2009 was a dynamic year; a year of firsts and a year of lasts; a year of endings, and a year of beginnings.

Unfortunately, all the beginnings have pretty much sucked so far. But hey, that's life, and I guess life would be pretty bland without a little suck sauce every now and then... that's the secret ingredient that makes the good parts that much better. Anyway, before I wax poetic again, let's get on with the meat of this post.

Truth be told, 2009 was one of the wackiest 365 day periods I've ever experienced in my 23 year tenure as a human. Every year has its ups and downs, but it's not every year that your plans for the rest of your life are thrown completely out of rhythm (thanks, Boyd). Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming my life has been ruined or that I can't go on to do what it was I had always planned to do (whatever the heck that was). That's why I used "thrown out of rhythm" instead of a more drastic choice of words like "plunged forevermore into the infernal abyss." To paraphrase my man Morpheus in The Matrix Reloaded, I'm still truckin, so it's all good. Still, a lot has changed in my life as a result of the events that transpired in 2009.

Some of these things aren't of monumental significance, and some of them are; either way, I've prepared a bullet point (woo!) list of events and occurrences that I consider distinctive, because I like lists of this nature.

In 2009, I:

• Unwittingly sparked a Coms 101 witch hunt. To anyone who may teach Coms 101 as a GA at Liberty in the future: I advise you not to make study guides that contain what basically amounts to the test questions and answers rewritten in full sentence form. Apparently improvement to the teaching model (those were some god-awful tests) is only okay if you're actually the teacher and not just an assistant.
  

• Spilled my guts to a girl I liked for the first time ever. Whoops. Word to the wise, kids: if you like her, she knows it. If she likes you, you'll probably know it too. Otherwise, don't waste your time agonizing over whether or not to say anything to her, especially when you know she's out of your league. The leagues don't magically change when you finally verbalize how you feel. Unless your life is scripted by Nicholas Sparks. And then one (or both) of you will end up dead anyway.
  

• Went on half a date (see previous). "Well, that was fun. Can we do it again? Oh. Yeah, I guess it wasn't that much fun. Yeah, it's cool. No, no, I understand. Well, I guess I'll just go sit out there and pretend to watch that basketball game for a little while." At least I didn't get a speeding ticket on that half date.
  

• Started playing (and got addicted to) Magic. After we all watched (almost) an entire season of Yugi-Oh directly following Spring Break, Ian decided it was time to get everyone started on Magic, so he bought us all cards, and the fun, casual game we started playing snowballed out of control. One time I will never forget was the evening when we played our newly-acquainted-with-the-rules version of a 2-on-2 game which, as a result of our poor understanding of how the game actually worked, took us 5 hours to complete. It's a shame no one around here really wants to play anymore.

• Ended my educational career. I didn't plan this; in fact, I was intent on going back to school this year up to the bitter end when reality smacked me in the face and said "BILL! YOU CAN NOT GO BACK!" This is by far the most drastic change implemented by the wiles of 2009, and I'm still a little pissed about it, but life goes on.

• Saw the greatest tragedy in sports history. Most of you will beg to differ (since you don't have any personal ties to the team), but I've never felt more devastated, in the sports world, at least, than when Nick Donato broke his arm. That team was headed for the Little League World Series, and one broken bone destroyed that possibility.

• Went to the Little League World Series. Granted, it wasn't to watch our league's team play, but we went with our league's team on a great long-weekend trip. In a way, it was good they weren't playing, because I got to hang out with all the team members, and they are a great group of kids. I haven't had that much fun since; I was enjoying myself so much, in fact, that it completely took my mind off the fact that I wasn't at Liberty like I was supposed to be, which was something that was bothering me a lot at that time.

• Discovered How I Met Your Mother. This is one of the best shows on TV - it's hilarious, has a lot of heart, and has some good life lessons to boot. It's one of the only shows that I can watch episode after episode literally for hours without getting sick of it. If you've never seen it, watch the first episode. If you're not hooked, there's something wrong with your brain.
  

• Got to visit Liberty as a non-student. This probably seems pretty mundane, but going back to visit was kind of a big deal to me, since I had the rug pulled out from underneath me when I realized I wasn't gonna be able to go back to school, and it was rather hard to work out the circumstances of my visit in the first place. Taking some time to just chill and then say goodbye to everyone for good was one of the most valuable experiences I had last year.

• Discovered that I'm a fairly apt drummer. Thank you, Rock Band, for teaching me how to play real drums. Seriously. What they said before Rock Band was released about playing drums on Expert was true, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who can attest to this. Now if anyone ever puts a gun to my head and says "lay down a beat for me," I can oblige without having my brains blown out.

• Saw the Yankees win a World Series. Book-ending the decade with World Series victories almost makes up for the crash and burn end to the 2004 postseason, and Johnny Damon certainly redeemed himself for the hand he had in that disgraceful affair.

• Finally painted the rock. That was something I'd been itching to do since 2005, but we never got around to it until I was actually no longer a student at Liberty (we did it at the end of my visit in the fall, just hours before I left Lynchburg).

I think that hits all the major points. There were a lot of little things I remember about last year that I'd love to mention but weren't really all that momentous, and they'd probably bore you to tears, so I just stuck with this list. Granted, you might not think discovering a TV show is a "major point," but I think How I Met Your Mother has already been woven into the fabric of my memory of 2009, so it was worth a mention to me.

The funny thing is, as far as saying farewell to a year goes, I'll really miss the first half (roughly) of 2009, but the second half was rather suckish, so I'm not sad to see it go in the least. When you compare it to the other year that I might consider the most dynamic year of my life (2006), it's much more linear... 2006 was a veritable roller coaster that went up and down all over the place and pretty much jumped off the tracks near the very end. 2009 was more like one of those free fall rides - way up, then way down really fast. But at least the ride is over.

This is the part where you normally talk about how 2010 is the start of a new year with a clean slate, full of promise and possibilities, but since we're already a month in, I feel like all those sentiments are past their expiration date. Right now things aren't any different than they were at the end of 2009, which doesn't thrill me to pieces, but neither does it leave me upset. The thing is, you never know when fate's gonna come along and pull the rug out from underneath you again, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. It all depends on how you react, how you land, and how you pick yourself up if you just come crashing down.

I'll Tell You What A Larsh Is

A while ago, I got it into my head that I wanted to watch Hatching Pete, a recent Disney Channel original movie, namely because Tiffany Thornton is beautiful. A week or so ago, I acquired a copy of this movie and settled in to watch it, and when it was over, I came to a revolutionary conclusion: Hatching Pete is the best Disney Channel original movie ever. I know, I know, you're all scratching your collective head, saying "Huh? How can a movie about a boy in a chicken suit possibly be better than the masterpiece that is High School Musical?" Well you're in luck, because I'm about to tell you just how that's possible.

Just to clear this up, it's not because of Tiffany Thornton (she actually had a rather small part in it overall, and even then I wasn't a fan of her stuck-up cheer captain character, although I wasn't supposed to be, so she did her job adequately). It's actually because of the movie's two largely unknown stars, Jason Dolley and Josie Loren. It's a shame Hatching Pete didn't become the phenomenon that High School Musical did, because I'd love to see more of these two actors in the future. Jason Dolley is more charming as Pete Ivey than Zac Efron is as Troy Bolton (even if Pete Ivey doesn't grow up to become an awesome pastor in central Virginia), and Josie Loren is much more adorable as Pete's initially distant love interest, Angela Morrissey, than Vanessa Hudgens is as Gabriella Montez. There's a natural chemistry between Pete and the Angela, and the progression of their relationship seems a lot less forced than the "love-at-first-sight-that-encounters-a-brief-rocky-patch-three-movies-in-a-row" formula between Troy and Gabriella. Granted, High School Musical had better music (duh), but the character development in Hatching Pete was vastly superior, the story much more compelling, and, to say it again, Jason Dolley put out a great performance.

So what do Zac Efron and Josie Loren have in common, aside from starring in Disney Channel movies? 17 Again! This particular film was recommended to me by none other than our very own Danny Latin... it surprised me that he would actually even want to see it in the first place, since he's not a big Zac Efron fan, but he saw it and told me it was very good. It interested me since I first heard about it, because I do in fact like Zac Efron, but this unexpected endorsement made me want to see it even more. If you've never seen it, think of it as a sort of cross between Freaky Friday, It's A Wonderful Life, and Mrs. Doubtfire. On the surface it looks like your average, fun, body-switching high school flick, but it actually deals with themes deeper than "being yourself" and the other sorts of things that normally drive the plots of films centered around high school. After watching Hatching Pete and learning that Josie Loren plays a good female lead (and is also extraordinarily pretty), I found out that she was also in 17 Again, which bumped it to the top of my "movies to watch" list. Alas, she only had a very small part as the muse of Zac Efron's character's son (played by Sterling Knight), and it didn't do much to show off her acting abilities, but she is basically the epitome of what you'd call "my type," so every scene she was in was a good one anyway. The movie itself was indeed very good, even hilarious at times (the interactions between Zac Efron and Thomas Lennon are a riot, and the latter is just plain funny in his own right throughout the duration of the movie). I'd highly recommend it... and you know if a movie gets an endorsement from both myself AND Danny Latin, it must be pretty friggin good. Incidentally, 17 Again features, as I mentioned earlier, Sterling Knight, who stars on Sonny With A Chance with Tiffany Thornton, who was in Hatching Pete with Josie Loren, which completes the Disney circle by bringing us back to 17 Again (even though it's not a Disney movie). File that under "F" for "Fun Fact".

Last week whilst in the car on the first ever Fast Food World Tour, Chris and I were discussing the nonsensical song "Fireflies" (by Owl City) and its unwarranted popularity. Sure, it's reasonably catchy, but the lyrics may as well be gibberish, and in my opinion, that vastly diminishes a song's overall value. I wondered aloud just what he meant by "a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs." To me, that could mean one of three things: he's getting one hug apiece from one thousand individual lightning bugs out of a group of 10,000; he's getting a combination of any number of hugs adding up to one thousand from any number of lightning bugs, again out of a pool of 10,000 total bugs; or he's getting a thousand hugs apiece from 10,000 lightning bugs, resulting in a net total of ten million distinct insect hugs. I'm inclined to believe it's the second choice (which actually inherently allows for the first choice, making it the most versatile and efficient), because getting ten million hugs in the form of one thousand hugs being doled out one after another would just take too long, especially considering you couldn't fit all 10,000 bugs on your person at one time. At any rate people, please, PLEASE stop liking this song, the novelty of hearing about this guy's looney dreams has long since worn off.

And speaking of lyrics, I still don't know what Martin of Boys Like Girls says at the end of the second verse of "Love Drunk." As best I can tell, it sounds like "Oh girl, you make me such a larsh..." What the heck is a larsh, anyway? Sure, I could look up what the actual word is and find out for you, but for my part, I prefer speculation. Based on the context of the rest of the song, I'd have to extrapolate the meaning of the word "larsh" as one who is angry, disappointed, and confused, most likely because the girl he loves suddenly wants nothing to do with him and he can't figure out just exactly why, nor can he get her to even talk to him, despite his best and repeated efforts. I guess a "larsh" is a good term for a guy in the early stages of a broken heart, which is to say that his denial of that fact is exemplified by his rage at the situation, which really is only there to cover up the fact that he's hurt. I think, then, that this song is a great example of a male speaking from that point of view; boldly offering a big fat "eff you" to the girl in whom he invested so much time only to have her yank the rug right out from under his feet, because that's simply the best (or at least easiest) way to deal with it right after the fact. You can tell how much a guy really cared about a girl by how much he hates her after she breaks up with him, and I think this song expresses that perfectly.

In addition to being a great breakup song, "Love Drunk" was Boys Like Girls' opening number when I saw them play live at Northern Lights last night. My review of that show (which also featured Cobra Starship, Versa Emerge, A Rocket to the Moon, and The Maine) will be the first featured review on the blog Danny Latin and I have started, and will be posted next Thursday, so keep your eyes peeled. What's better than one genius level blog-weaver giving his take on pop culture? That's right, TWO brilliant minds combining their powers into one solidified effort to do a mighty service for all the media hungry folks in internet land. If you like movies, TV, music, sports, or any other facet of modern entertainment, or if you just can't get enough of either of our timely insights, then you'll probably want to check billyanddanny.blogspot.com daily, because starting Monday, November 23rd, that's how often new content will be published. You heard me kids, we will be posting new stuff every single buckin day, so for those of you dissatisfied with the wait time in between posts on this blog, your cries have been heard, and you shall want no more. And while you're at it, tell your friends too, you wouldn't want them to miss out on the experience.

Alright, that's all for now. I'll see all of you on Monday at billyanddanny.blogspot.com.

This Post Dedicated To Matt Swain

Well fine citizens of the Interwebs, here I am, returned to the world of bloggery after a brief hiatus. My impromptu sabbatical was brought about not only by how busy I've been over the last two months or so, but also by the way all my thoughts have been jumbled up inside my head like a big freakin ball of Christmas lights that I, despite my best efforts, cannot seem to untangle. Many times I've come across ideas, shining brightly like the aforementioned lights, but I can't pick them out of the mess of cords and wires in order to make anything worthwhile out of them, so tonight I'm gonna try something different than usual. Instead of trying to showcase the individual bulbs on the string, I'm just gonna start at the beginning, follow the cord until I untangle a knot, and work my way down the rest of it until I get to the end. Hopefully by the time I plug it in, it'll look a lot better than it did before, and I think if I squeeze that metaphor any more, I'll be venturing into Coms 550 territory, and we all know that's where metaphors go if they haven't accepted Jesus.

I just turned 23, celebrating my first birthday at home since I turned 17, and I've realized something about birthdays: they're kind of frivolous, at least by this age. Sure, when you're younger, everyone gets excited about you turning another year older, and you feel "bigger," and every birthday leads up to another important milestone in your life. 21, however, is the last true milestone, and most people would consider it the biggest, as you're legal to drink alcohol at that age. The irony, though, is that all the people excited about being able to legally drink have no doubt already been drunk countless times, and the people who haven't don't really care about drinking anyway. But now, there's nothing super special about birthdays, I'm just getting older and older, and the numbers are steadily increasing, like an odometer ticking away as the miles roll on. And speaking of odometers, do you stop and give your car a gift every time it reaches another thousand miles? I think the concept of birthday presents is a little misguided. Don't get me wrong, I love getting gifts on my birthday (or any other time of year, for that matter), but let's bear in mind people, they are just that: gifts. It annoys me any time I hear somebody say "you deserve it" in regards to a birthday present or party or any other such trapping that goes along with the celebration of the event. Why, exactly, do you deserve that present? Because you lived to see the passing of another year? You don't deserve any presents, you get them from people that love you for precisely that reason, they love you and they're happy to see that you've stuck around for as long as you have. I suppose I've answered my own question (which I never formally stated, but it was "why do people get presents on their birthdays?"), so I guess this blog is a success already.

As I was saying though, I turned 23, and there wasn't anything terribly exciting about it. It was similar last year when I reached the nebulous age of 22... it's enough to make me question why we even bother celebrating it anymore. On the other hand, the age of 23 has the distinct honor of being mentioned in no less than three punk songs that I can think of right off the top of my head:

Nobody likes you when you're 23 (Blink 182 - What's My Age Again?)
We're almost 23 and you're still mad at me (Yellowcard - Twenty Three)
17, 18, 19 routine and here at 23 it's the same old me (Relient K - Maintain Consciousness)

Maybe there's something to being 23 that's gained it so much infamy in the punk music scene (don't even start with all the associations implied in that Jim Carrey movie, that's nothing but a novel bit of bollocks; furthermore, don't dissect my definition of "punk," just roll with it)... or maybe it's just the fact that it's the only age relevant to the genre that rhymes with "me." I guess I'll just have to wait and see what the next year offers up.

I mentioned drinking earlier, and incidentally, I got to experience interaction with a real live drunk person for the first time just recently. I had always heard that drunk people are funny, and to be honest, it's true, they are, but I also noticed something striking the other day. Once this particular fellow had had enough to drink to render him inebriated, everyone was constantly laughing at everything he did or said. While he is naturally a funny guy, I noted that his words and actions weren't really all that much funnier than normal. Everyone was treating him as though he had reached some transcendent state of humorous enlightenment, but it was pretty standard fare, so I didn't quite get what the big deal was. Like I said, the stuff he was doing was funny anyway, and would have gotten laughs if he had done it sober... and he would have done most of those same things sober, which is why the flag went up in my head. He was just being himself (albeit a slightly drunker version), only the laughs were heartier and more plentiful than usual. And then it hit me. The reason it was so funny wasn't because he was being funny, it was because his state of mind was altered by the alcohol, causing him to, in everyone else's view, do things that were funnier than usual. Apparently if you're not entirely in control of what you're doing, everything you do is that much more hilarious (whether you'd be doing it normally or not), and at that point, it stopped seeming funny and started seeming patronizing. Something to think about, folks: what are you laughing at, the person, or how the person is affected by a controlled substance?

To be honest, I really don't understand drinking as an activity. For one thing, it tastes disgusting, and for another thing, it inhibits your cognitive and physical processes. I suppose the latter would generally considered a benefit by the majority of Americans in my age group, but I don't need to get drunk to have a good time; I'm off-the-wall enough as it is, so why should I pump a bunch of potentially harmful chemicals into my body? On Saturday night, Chris and I went to a Halloween party the other night at a frat house on RPI's campus. I had a general inclination as to what it would be like (nothing to really do but drink, and I don't drink), but I figured, what the heck, I'd never experienced one before, so it might at least be interesting to see what goes on at one of those things. Plus, it was Halloween, and our plans for trick-or-treating had been dashed by the rain, so I wanted more people to see my costume and to see some other costumes as well, and a party seemed just as good a place as any for that. Well, I did see some costumes, including a sweet Rorschach costume, but otherwise it was a total waste of time (I doubt anyone even recognized who I was dressed as). It was dark and sweltering, with wall-to-wall bodies cramming the whole building, and music so loud I could barely hear myself think over the thumping bass beat. And, as I had predicted, the primary attraction was the alcohol, so basically my only option was to hang back around the wall and watch a bunch of sweaty drunk college students grind each other while other sweaty drunk college students pushed and shoved their way through the crowd. That got old real fast, and Chris and I left as soon as we had put in a requisite amount of time hanging around with a couple of his friends. The conclusion I drew from this experience was that secular campuses must be pretty boring, since it seems like the only thing there is to do is drink. Sure, there's not a whole lot to "do" at Liberty, but when everyone's just getting trashed, that's not "doing" anything either. It's not a social activity, because you're not interacting with people, you're interacting with intoxicated, alternate reality versions of those people, and there's a good chance they won't remember what happened anyway. I don't know how that passes for a good time.

Switching gears, earlier today I went to the mall by myself, and I was walking in the direction of Barnes & Noble. I was lost in thought, totally in the zone, when suddenly I heard "Young man, would you like to open an account?" I stopped, momentarily bewildered, and looked at the source of this intrusion to my thought processes. It was a middle aged lady standing outside a jewelry store with a clipboard. I didn't know what kind of account she was pestering me about, and I didn't care, so I just said "No thanks, I'm good," and kept right on walking. The occurrence was odd enough, since I wasn't even looking in her direction and she had called out to me for seemingly no reason other than that I was alone (and presumably vulnerable), but I shook it off and reached my destination without further incident. On my way back from Barnes & Noble, after looking at some sweet Green Lantern books (Rebirth and Sinestro Corps War, for anyone who's interested), I walked down the other side of the mall, and again I was completely zoned when, from out of nowhere, I'm blasted with "How are you doing?" Again, it's a chick out in front of a jewelry store, but this time it's a different jewelry store, and the girl is younger and actually fairly attractive. I was still annoyed at the interruption, but in the vein of politeness I said "Good, how are you?" to which she replied "Good, thanks," but by that time I was already several steps away, having escaped the pitch for the account she wanted me to open or whatever other kind of nonsense in which she was trying to get me to partake. Same as last time, I was walking at a steady pace, not looking at this girl in the slightest and certainly not making eye contact, yet she picked me off anyway. I wonder what it is about a twenty-something male alone in the mall that makes him a prime target for harassment of this kind outside a jewelry store; do I really fit their target demographic? If so, I can't imagine why.

If you've kept with me this long and you're wondering why this post was dedicated to Matt Swain, it's because he's been a faithful follower of my blog since its inception (as far as I can tell) and he recently admonished me to keep them coming. Not wanting to fail my public (especially my former prayer leader), I decided to sit down and plunk one out, regardless of how disjointed it may have been, and this post is the fruit of my labor. I'm glad I did, because I feel like I've worked out a few of my mental kinks, and from now on I'm gonna try to write these at more regular intervals. Matt, I hope you (and any other readers) found this enjoyable; it's no substitute for a small yellow placard, but this is the best offering of Joy I can give you right now. Hopefully it's adequate.