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In honor of the end of the year, I’m assembling some advice for incoming freshman– things I wish I had known when I was a freshman. If you have other items or suggestions, please add them in the comments! I think I might publish a pamphlet or something, and hand it out next Fall…

Advice for incoming honors freshman:

Don’t take bullshit classes!
You should NEVER have to waste your time with a class. Never. There are lots of rules and regulations (see: CORE 2.0) about what you DO and DON’T need to take. Your major likely has lots of pre-requisites. But what most students don’t realize is that the university system exists to facilitate your education, not to encumber it with requirements and regulations. Within your major, 100-level “required” courses can be ignored entirely, so long as there’s an upper-division course that covers some of the same ground. Check with an adviser about this, of course, but don’t waste your time!

In terms of CORE, if there’s a 101 that looks interesting, that you actually feel will be worth your time, by all means. But otherwise, do yourself a favor, and take a more challenging course to fulfill the same requirement. That’ll do a lot more toward the end of making you “well rounded.” Yeah, Chem 141 was hard, but I’m totally glad that I took it, rather than wasting my time with chem 121. No, I’ll never actually USE that information, but I’m glad I know a little about Chemistry. Not a lot, but enough to kinda follow what people talk about. If I end up in one of “those” conversations, it’s gratifying. Your time and money is valuable. Don’t waste it!

Loose your virginity. Keep your 4.0.
There are some things in life that once you lose, you can never back again. It’s gone forever. Your GPA is one of those things. Once it’s gone, you can never have a four-point-oh again. You’ll never have a chance at being one of those two-dozen people who graduate every year with a perfect record. Realistically, you may not graduate with that four-point, but there’s NO sense in wasting that opportunity while taking 100-level intro courses. Save your GPA for that special class– something like Math 361, or O-Chem.

You can get into any class you want. Even if it’s full. Even if it has pre-reqs.
If you want to get into a class that’s full, here’s the formula: show up to class every day for the first week. Sit in the front row. Be attentive. Participate. Hopefully, by the 3rd or 4th class, the professor will have noticed you– maybe even knows your name. That’s when you approach your prof with your add slip. You’ll get it signed every time.

If there’s a class you want to take that has a pre-req, or Junior Standing requirement, just email the prof ahead of time, tell her/him why you think you’re qualified for the class. If you don’t actually need the pre-req, nine times out of ten the prof will give you the go-ahead, and you can register for the class anyway. Don’t waste your time with courses you’re not going to learn from, just for the sake of fulfilling a pre-requisite.

Get a fake ID. If drinking’s your thing, that is.
Twenty-one is bullshit. If you’re smart enough to beat the system, though, no worries. I picked up a fake my freshman year, and used it until I was 21. Talk about money well spent. Having access to alcohol, when you want access, is incredibly gratifying. It’s also a great way to acrue favors, when all your friends are 18.

Check out ASMSU.
You owe it to yourself to at least get an idea of what the organization is, and what it does. Attend a couple meetings on a Thursday night. 6:00 p.m., sharp. Sub 271. You don’t have to become a senator to capitalize on some of ASMSU’s under-published services, such as access to a licensed attorney, for $7/hour, or access to rental snow-shoes for $5 a day.

Obviously, getting involved on campus is a good plan– good for the resume, great for meeting people. ASMSU is a great place to start.

Hike in the Fall.
Bozeman’s weather in September is AWESOME. Get out and enjoy it. Even when things warm up in the spring, the trails will largely be clogged with snow, so get out and do Hylight, Sacajawea, etc. in the fall, while the weather is wonderful.

Get to know “that one guy” with lots of music.
One of the coolest things about college is meeting people from all sorts of different backgrounds, with awesome experiences, etc. Find that person on your hall, or in your T&C class, what-ev, with great taste in music, movies, books. Ask her/him for recommendations, to hook you up with MP3s. Believe me, that person would love to share the love. And you’ll get so much out of it. Exposure to new bands, genres, etc.

Use advisers.
Your professors know a LOT about college. And what’s beyond college. More than that, they love helping students. So take advantage of that! Find a professor you like, make an appointment, and go in and chat with him/her about your college expectations, what you like/don’t like, etc. Odds are, a good “adviser” will open up your world to a whole slew of options and opportunities that you had no idea were available. If you have a question about your classes, your career, etc, find someone and ask. They love to help. Additionally, you’ll start cultivating relationships that will last you through college, can provide letters of reference, etc. Every question you have can be answered. You just have to ask.

The long and short of it is: make your first year exactly what you want it to be. Don’t bother with classes that aren’t going to be a valuable use of your time. Meet people. Find out what’s available on campus. Do things you want to do. Have some wild experiences. Let yourself go. Have a good time. Study hard. Play hard.

I planned for this, actually. I really DID want to get the flu, the day before finals start. Frankly, this semester hasn’t been much of a challenge. So, I figure, let’s see how finals go… with the flu!

Bring it, Calculus! I’m the integratin’-frickin’-master! I can trig-sub like you can only u-sub! ALL my series converge, and I’ve got the frickin’ tests to prove it! Bring it ON, chapter 11! I’ll put you through the RATIO TEST. I’ll drop the LIMIT COMPARISON TEST on yo’ ass! I’ll find the nth-frickin’-term of your Taylor-frickin’-series. I’ll shove it back in yo’ FACE! How ya like them apples, PUNK?!

dfsalkj; aaaaaaklsjealkfj aek

I’ve slept like 16 hours so far today. and i’m about to fall asleep on my keyboard. and i’m feeling too tired and lazy to capitalize things, now… sheesh.

Secretly, I blame Kimbree. “How does one get the flu, Doc?” I asked. (Look, I’m capitalizing again! Second wind! Whoo!)

“Well, it’s transferred from person to person,” he explained. “So if you’ve been around anyone who was coughing or sneezing, for example, especially at a time when your immune system might have been particularly weak…”

“Oh, right,” I nodded my head in agreement.

Someone … like … Kimbree. Mostly feeling better, but still coughing.

It’s Friday night. Midnight, and I’m restless. Me: “Let’s go camping!” (my hairbrained idea). She agrees, sneaks into her dark house to retrieve her sleeping bag…

3:30 a.m.: arrive at destination, off Fairy Lake “road”. Pitch tent.

4:00 a.m.: Us. Sitting on hillside, shivering, sipping cheap red wine. We huddle around the fire, for warmth. Looking up, the full moon silhouettes Sacajawea Peak (HUGE! Sharp edges. Towering and BLACK with the radiant white luster of SNOW). And us, sitting on a hillside, in the moon-shadow of the Bridgers…

Later, intense (in-tents!) coughing. She sits up, again, and the coughing stops. Me, sitting up with her: “You alright? …”

—

I woke the next morning with a sore throat. 8:00 p.m. last night: sore throat’s back. With a fever. God, so tired… It all makes sense.

Of course, now K seems to be getting sick again. What goes around, comes around, and goes around again. If we’re both sick, does that mean we can cuddle? I sort of wish I still had that huge, white HAZMAT suit, still…

—

Yes, that’s me, getting sentimental… must be the flu, at work.

—

So ends spring semester. Point, counterpoint. I won’t be making the President’s list, this semester. Hell, I’ll be lucky to make the Dean’s list…

But on the other hand, I’ve made some memories. Memories other than falling asleep on my books on Friday night, or playing beer pong in my room. I’ve even got a nice start on my farmer’s tan, for the summer. My arm, turning slightly tan, has some curvature– not so flaccid and flat, as usual.

Summer beckons. 73*F tomorrow. 78*F on Tuesday. (108*F in my bed, under my blankets, shivering… damn flu.) A summer of promise, opportunity. Nestled in the northern heart of the Rocky Mountains, between Bridgers, Spanish Peaks, Gallatins. Away from Cheyenne: at once: a pity; and, at last!

*here the author dutifully hacks up a lung. Blood spatters on the trash can. He convulses, and falls from chair to floor, wrapping in fetal position. His body is ravaged, jerks pitifully, again and again, by the inscrutable whims of a virus, angry and red, beyond the reach of modern medicine. He falls beyond the reach of modern medicine…*

*here the author returns to reality, realizing that only his red-rubbed-raw nose suffers from such ravages…*

Alas. Time to brew some more tea, pour some more orange juice, and return to my Econ text book… which is silly: of my exams, I need to study for econ the least, which probably coincides with it being the only exam I find interesting…

I being to feel warm again, hot. Stripped down to my t-shirt, by biological tea-pot begins a low, but ear-piercing, whistle…

But enough of my complaints! Good night!

In the future, you may ask me “how’s it going,” and receive a response along the lines of “oh, about two fat tires” and be confused. To prevent that confusion, read on!

I’ve deduced a relatively precise index, useful to quantify the relative quality of my days.

In the same way that a “five star” scale might quantify the goodness of a book or film, my days can be directly and reliably quantified in terms of quality and enjoyment by the relative number of energy drinks and/or microbrews I drink.

Fat Tires: a relative measure of goodness, indicative of leisure time, good times, quality time, health

Rockstars: a relative measure of badness, indicative of sleep-deprivation, stress, angst, unhealth

For the sake of the index, we’ll use a Rockstar to represent a typical energy drink, and we’ll use a Fat Tire to represent a typical microbrew. On any given day, I may drink anywhere between one and five of either.

I’m particularly fond of Fat Tire, and I’m sure it’s familiar to many who will reference my index. Having the leisure time to drink a Fat Tire makes for a good day. Drinking a Fat Tire is also indicative of health and (presumably) quality time– with a friend, or, say, with an instrument. (As a side note, recent studies have shown that many microbrews contain beneficial antioxidants– making it healthy for me to consume a microbrew or two on occasion.)

On the other hand, I have a particular aversion for Rockstar. On a bad day I’m likely to be short on sleep and shorter on time. To stay awake and alert, then, I drink energy drinks. It should be noted that 1) I loath and despite energy drinks (with the notable exception of Red Bull, which I prefer to any and every other drink in the world, but which doesn’t generally qualify as an “energy drink”, since a $2.29 can has less than 100mg of caffeine) and 2) I equate drinking energy drinks with drinking liquid death. I recognize that A) I’m drinking the energy drink because I didn’t get a healthy amount of sleep the night previous; B) I’m drinking the energy drink to push my body beyond a healthy level of exertion and C) the energy drink is loaded with sugar, caffeine, and other synthetic and natural chemicals and stimulants. Alas. In particular, I drink Rockstar; the “juiced” variety seems to be the lesser of many evils.

So, if, say, I get 4 hours of sleep the night before, and need to stay awake through the afternoon and study, I might drink one Rockstar. If I need to continue to be alert through the evening, I might drink another Rockstar. If I need to stay alert until the wee hours in the morning, I might drink another Rockstar. Sleep deprivation, desperation, and a SCREAMING deadline all add up to a terrible, terrible day. No time for leisure, for other people, for piano, guitar, movies, books, slacklining, climbing, etc.

So. For, for future reference, in the Cosmology of Mark, “Fat Tires” will be used to quantify the relative goodness of a day. Similarly, “Rockstars” will be used to quantify the relative badness of a day. Not mutually exclusive, many days measure on both scales (many days are both good and bad).

I may go so far as to simply indicate the quality of my day with a visual indicator: “RRR” for example, would be a particularly awful day; “TTTTT” on the other hand, would be a particularly spectacular day (presumably).

Got it? It’s easy! Please feel free to modify and appropriate this index as you see fit. I hope this proves an effective tool of communication and recording complex states of mind for posterity!

in solidarity with the students at Virginia Tech. the terror, shock, anger, heartbreak is your own.

still, you’re not forgotten.

Effective 1 May, glass recycling will no longer be available in Bozeman. The glaring yellow signs on the “Binnies” proclaim “Glass is Trash”. It may be, but glass is also a material which is almost 100 percent recyclable (and can be recycled profitably).

Recycling glass is important: relative to new materials, making glass from recycled glass uses 40% less energy (pulverized glass, called cullet, melts at a lower temperature), reduces related air pollution by 20% and related water pollution by 50%; carbon emissions associated with transporting glass to be recycled are significantly less than associated with extraction and transportation of new materials. Even if not economically attractive, recycling glass remains an important component of adopting a sustainable lifestyle that will preserve the earth for generations to come.

The Gallatin Valley is beautiful; recycling glass reduces the demand for raw materials which must be quarried from our landscapes–a clear environmental advantage to recovering and recycling glass. Moreover, recycling reduces the amount of glass waste dumped in the landfill. Most importantly, recycling the waste we produce makes us more conscientious of the effect we have on our environment and enables us to contribute towards a greater level of sustainability

At present, the state of Montana has no internal facilities for recycling glass. Lawmakers seemingly have failed to create tax and other incentives for using recycled materials. The current amount of glass being “Binnie”-ed in the Valley should be a clear indicator of tax payers’ demand for glass recycling service. Residents of Gallatin County have demonstrated that glass recycling is important; the municipal government should pay attention.

With mounting recognition of global climate change and the urgent necessity of reducing carbon emissions and consumption, eliminating glass recycling service in Bozeman is the wrong choice for a green Bozeman and a sustainable future.

(A collaborative effort of MSU Green Club)

Well, let’s see. What’s new?

Oh, I figured out what I’m going to do with my life a few days ago. Yeah, that’s a pretty big deal. I’m pretty excited.

Try this on for size: I will (presumably in the capacity of a consultant) help organizations and companies transition to paperless office systems.

I don’t know why it didn’t hit me sooner. It should be so obvious. I’m studying economics because I like the business process, efficiency and decision making. I’m studying history because, yeah, I like to learn about the past, but also because I want to write and communicate effectively. And then there’s that thing about conservation: reduce being the first and most important of –>reduce, reuse, recycle–>. Then, there was high school, when I was convinced that I.T. would be the career for me–I love technology, but didn’t want to spend my life in a server room.

Does the shoe fit? Absolutely. Analyzing how companies can operate more efficiently and reduce waste by using technology to to streamline and eliminate paperwork? Oh, I’m stoked. It makes so much sense. Analysis, business decisions, communication, technology, conservationism.

Between now and then, I’ll need an undergrad degree, a few years experience, and (presumably) an MBA. I’m registering for classes next semester (econ, stats, history, and HOPEFULLY a film class), and I’m well on my way. I probably should look for an internship this summer. Right-o. Note to self.

So yeah, there’s that. And then, I won the lottery. No, actually, that was an April Fool’s thing. That’d be sweet, though.

Actually, it makes me laugh when people who have never in their life purchased a lottery ticket talk about winning the lottery*. I guess it emphasized the point that your odds of winning are probably about equal, regardless of if you buy lottery tickets, but really now, folks…

(*-that’s totally me, by the way.)

Actually, I need to file my taxes. That would kind of be like winning the lottery, yeah?

—

In other news Green Club (or: the club formerly known as Recycling Club (whose name is now the recycling symbol … with a giant phallus…), or, short for: Clean Air / Green Grass Club) is picking up some momentum. Our mud-wrestling tug-o-war plans are rather in flux, but check back for details. Whoo!

—

In still other news, I’ve applied to be committee head of ASMSU’s Films/Procrastinator Theatre committee, which I’m super excited about. Like the whole my-career-thing, it should have been OBVIOUS for me to apply. Actually, the brainstorming process was something like “gee, who do I know that I could encourage to apply for the committee head? Oh, yeah… ME!”. Like I said, I’m excited. If selected, I would be responsible for most of the operations of Campus’s discount theatre– hiring staff, helping select films, working with a distributor, working with other committees to present special interest films…

—

I saw The Lives of Others last Friday night. Frankly, I couldn’t do justice to the film, other than to say that, had it been an American film, it would have won Best Picture– there’s no doubt in my mind. It’s a “character” movie–slow and intentional, driven by inner states and development of its characters. Set in Socialist (GDR) Germany toward the end of the Cold War, the film, for all of its honesty and humanity, provides a vivid glimpse of life for East Berliners during the latter Soviet period–a significant era of history, previously unaddressed in any film I’ve seen before. If love good films, go see this movie.

—

And, that’s about all. In eleven hours, my three-day weekend is about to kick off. Plans are TBD. I don’t celebrate Easter, but, hey, who needs an excuse to celebrate?!

… are going up. Green grass is coming up. Gas prices are going up. Green grass is coming up. Gas prices …

Happy days, oh happy days for clean air and happy feet. Oh, happy day for the environment!

—

I’m going get into a fist-fight.

I don’t know who, and I don’t win. (Ha ha. I just wrote win. I meant “when”. Freud would have a field trip…) Frankly, I’m not looking forward to finding out. But, sadly, this is a new life goal…

I think there’s been a little too much Fight-Club-Palahniuk weirdness going on in the back of my head, as of late– or maybe it was that movie I watched the other night, Green Street Hooligans, that said something like When you’ve taken a few punches and you realize you are not made out of glass, you don’t feel alive unless you are pushing yourself as far as you can go.

Not made of glass… I’m actually, just now, beginning to realize this. I’m actually quite resilient. I heal, with time. I guess there’s no reason to intentionally subject myself to pain… but, heck, why not? Maybe I’ll learn something about myself.

I know. It’s not a very good goal. My plan of working my way up to middle-management, my goal of learning to settle for less, to be content with mediocrity, with recognizing my potential and not fulfilling it… THESE seem like good goals, by comparison.

But, alas. Just … watch your back. Punks. =P

—

Thirty-two hundred bright orange flags have surrounded Campus’s walks and filled its green space for the last week. Walking on to campus Monday morning, I saw a few flags and assumed that the sprinklers were being serviced. As I kept walking, though– no, this was no sprinkler project. I found myself amid a veritable sea of orange, waving flags. Every four feet, on every side… flags and flags and flags.

Then I saw the billboards:

3,200 American soldiers dead. WHY?

WHY did we invade Iraq?

Were there weapons of mass destruction?

600,000 Iraqis dead. WHY?

A flag was placed for each of the 3,200 American soldiers who have been killed in the war. Or, proportionally, 200 Iraqis per flag. My graduating class, per flag.

Perhaps a half-dozen such billboards were placed around campus: a question on top, with white space inviting comment underneath. Responses varied.

Some: “Bush lies! Greed! Oil! How many lives per gallon?“

Others: “To defend freedom! Patriotism! So you can keep your right to dishonor their deaths in this shameless fashion.“

On one sign, “600,000 Iraqis dead”, Iraqis was replaced with “insurgents”. On another sign, a half-dozen Iraq veterans had signed under “Iraq vets against this sign”.

Apparently, the demonstration had been organized by a small group of students and faculty, calling themselves “Bobcats for Progress”. The event marked the beginning of the fourth year of the war.

I wasn’t quick enough with my camera to get a picture of the multitude of flags, lining the Montana State University Centennial Mall (what we call the strip of pavement that runs across campus), but I applaud the effort of these individuals– I applaud them for being active.

—

And, their protest seems appropriate. Entering the fourth year of the war, Iraq has slipped from the front page to the second page to the pack page of the “B” section. “31 Sunnis killed in market suicide bombing.” “Violence in Baghdad kills 12.” “Civil war threatens in Iraq.”

Even President Bush’s requested appropriation of an ADDITIONAL $93.4 billion to support the war got buried in the “B” section of the Bozeman Chronicle.

As long as I’m on that thought, though, that’s $93.4 billion, on top of the existing $70B already appropriated for the War on Terror this year (FY07), on TOP of the $463B Department of Defense FY07 budget. If Bush gets his way, this will bring America’s total military spending to $626.4 billion for 2007.

Let’s put this in perspective. People like to complain about the exorbitant salaries collected by Hollywood’s biggest movie stars (Tom Cruise, I think, collects some $20m+ per film?). Yeah, that’s a lot of money, but then take a step back and realize that the entire film industry is only an $11.6B industry. Meaning that for every dollar spent by Hollywood, the military will spend $54 this year. This doesn’t seem like much, until you consider that Cruise’s $25m (plus royalties) commission for Minority Report equates to $1,350,000,000.01 in military spending. That’s one-point-three-five billion, plus .01 for emphasis.

Still, $626.4 billion may seem like chump change to some. Alternatively, let’s consider the following FY2007 budgets:

Ah. Tonight, I burst with pleasure to be an American. Ours is a strong way, a proud way. There’s an attitude–a relaxed, informality–to being an American that, I have good reason to believe, makes life uniquely enjoyable. Enjoyable to walk around this rural-suburban sprawl that I call my neighborhood, my home, in the darkening twilight. To laugh at Chester when I nearly topple, loose my footing on gravel road when he pulls so hard, chasing a rabbit, an imagined bird, an intriguing smell. To watch the stars appear in the infinite sky above– first Orion, his belt, his legs. It darkens, we walk, Chester calms. I look up again, and it’s not just Orion, but Orion and his accompanying host of stars–a jeweled crown. Geese fly above, calling back and forth: a flying–invisible–cacophony overhead. I hear them pass overhead, and stare into the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse–a sudden blackening of a star, perhaps, to mark the winged migration overhead. Glancing toward the horizon’s last and fading light of the night sky: a half-dozen silhouettes of geese in flight appears, a handful of what-must-be the hundreds calling, invisible in the night sky.

We walk on. Chester is calm, now, trotting by my side, or, at leash’s end. A gentle wind blows, carrying with it wafts of barking dogs, of a lone car traveling down the not-too-distant highway. And beneath that, a silence: utter, deep, and still. I realize, suddenly, that there is no place in the world like my home– no other geography of barren, brown plains, migrating geese, silhouetted rocky mountains. No other place that people live in such quiet seclusion, protruding like jutting mushrooms out on the prairie. Live with that calm reassurance that ours is a strong way of life, a big way of life, comfortable and easy.

I’m reminded that so little would be required for ours to be a perfect way of life, too. I think we’re close. Imagine: we with draw from Iraq. We reinvest those billions into socialized health care, day care. We revise our patterns of living to be more sustainable, more generous. Rampant consumption becomes moderate consumption. Families turn off their televisions, and adjourn to the lawn outside, the back porch, the mountains. Conversation becomes less boisterous and more reflective, whispered meditations on self, happiness, contentment.

Mars shines brilliantly in the western sky. Too bright to be a star, too red. Mars aside, the sky is empty– ha! –save for a billion shining stars!

I muse at the beauty of all this, quiet and meditative, on my back porch. My fingers grow still (stiff) with cold, pleasantly so. It’s seemingly incongruous for me to sit with a laptop on lap and enjoy this, but somehow fitting and perfect. Technology should enhance. Enrich. Simplify. Our advancing technology, our endless pace of development need not disturb the beauty of the night.

A jet flies overhead (some thirty minutes ago). I can see the two glowing dots of what must be its engines, the streak across the sky it leaves behind. The sun, sunk below the mountains, somehow shines its light on the streak above, illuminating, making it shine bright in the dark, blue night sky. Picture this: a jet plane as a cosmic, glow-in-the-dark highlighter, it’s trail streaking across the night sky. Somewhere in the cosmos, a breeze blows, and the line looses form, bends, fades– gradually. Gradually.

I’m not bothered that a jet has crossed and disturbed the serenity of the night sky. No. I enjoy its trail and train, highlighted by the setting sun. It floats across the sky, silent.

In the distance, a train, and an increasing chorus of dogs. Their voices echo and boom across the prairies.

And somehow, all is right. This is serenity. This is happiness. This windswept prairie, overlooking Cheyenne. This darkening sky. This unhurried spring evening. I’m home, and the house has nothing to do with it.

For the first time in years… I watched the Oscars, and wasn’t furious at their outcome. I don’t know if I should attribute this to actually agreeing with the academy members, or… if this year’s movies just weren’t particularly diverse. It was a fine year for movies, but not great. Which is to say that, aside from Brick (which, obviously, wasn’t Oscar material), there weren’t any films that I reacted particularly strongly too. The Departed was good. Nothing that hadn’t been done before, but done particularly well. Babel was really good, but not stereotypical Academy material, and not a film that, despite being really good, I’m going to rant and rave about. Letters From Iwo Jima was pretty good, too. I feel a little mixed about it, actually.

For one, Iwo Jima felt like … a war film, told form the Japanese perspective … by an American. I can’t pin down exactly what it was about the film that made it feel American… but it did? Probably because I’ve never seen a foreign war movie that felt like Saving Private Ryan— which is the sort of feel that Iwo Jima had. The sound editing was VERY crisp. It’s ambient noise and use of positional audio was some of the best I’ve heard in a movie, bar none. There were a few points where it was actually slightly distracting–the idea that the artist tells a lie to show us the truth–where the sounds seemed slightly overdone, but on balance… the sound editing made my ears sizzle.

Unfortunately, Clint doesn’t seem willing to let anyone else compose his scores. Not that I have anything against … simple … music, but sometimes a scene would be so much better with more than one instrument, and more than a small handful of notes…

I also had a problem with the cigarette / blue filters that were used when the film was shot, giving it a sombre, World War II mood. The filters themselves were good, but there were points where color was emphasized by removing the filter from a specific part of the screen– exploding flames, or red blood, for example. Clint, again, is no Robert Rodriguez. His strengths are elsewhere. Best to leave selective use of color to someone better. It was just … distracting–because it wasn’t especially well done.

Right-o.

There were a few other films that came out this year that were … pretty good (worth owning), but nothing epic, nothing stunning…. meh

Pan’s Labyrinth was really good and really dark… but again, not epic, not life changing, although thoroughly enjoyable.

I’m excited for 300. If it fulfills its ambitious previews, it might be the best movie in two years.

This is stupid, and boring.

It’s snowing. Thick, heavy flakes. Again. For the 50th time this month. God, Bozeman’s beautiful. There’s something ugly about Bozeman, too. It bothers me. I can’t put my finger on it. But it bothers me.

Spark notes: Academy Awards didn’t piss me off this year, partially because there weren’t any particularly impressive films.

Obviously, the gods smile upon me. Consider my recent fortunes:

Last night, I didn’t get a chance to grab dinner before my T&C class. So, at 9:30, I head over to Reid to clean some computers and and stuff, and, half-way up, I find a half-dozen abandoned pizzas–obviously left over from some event. They were even vegetarian! So yeah. I definitely got some free pizza for dinner last night (after not getting dinner!). That was sweet.

THEN, walking to work this morning, I found $5 on the ground. I went and bought myself a Red Bull, a Nutrigrain bar, and still had $2.45 left over. Man, that was pretty sweet, too.

Also, I would also like to take this opportunity to point out that it has been SEVEN YEARS since the 90s (god bless them, each and every year). Man, that makes me feel old. The POINT, though, is that it is no longer acceptable to show your midriff in public. Those days are over. There’s no going back. You’re going to have to wait at least ten years before it is once again fashionable to dress like you did in the 90s. Sheesh.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to buy some lottery tickets. =)