Hola folks, I have very little time (I'm in study hall and I think lunch is coming up soon--I can't be sure cause our bell-schedule's been messed up today) so I'll just say something and say it quickly.

Decathlon competition in two days, baby! W00t! Down to Thurgood Marshall high school we shall go and our case to the justice we shall plead. And then we shall rejoice, for we shall win regionals and we shall continue on to take state. And then I will laugh heartily when the Panthers whoop the Pats! Ah, life is good... or it had better be...

And with that somewhat ominous note, hasta la byebye!

Hello once again my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. I have just returned from our school's production of the musical Pippin. I must say that it was a marvelous show. Definitely the finest bit of live theatre I've gone to see, including the single professional show I saw. A shout out to all of the cast and crew of that play. You guys are the w00t (as I told Destiny, a friend of mine from Theatre 1 who finally got a part she deserved after three years). I strongly recommend to anyone who can somehow get their hands on tickets to go, because you will definitely enjoy yourself (unless you're the bad sort of whore).

Besides that, I have excellent news on the homework front: I did one assignment out of three from yesterday and the two that I didn't do now have extended deadlines till Monday! Much relief for this old Turk, lemme tell ya. The art packet especially is quite cruel and something that doesn't bear doing under normal circumstances, let alone having to do it while really tired at about 1 AM after finishing your stuff for English.

I realized that I'm making this thing into a chronicle of my day (huzzah), but that's ok for now. I figure that this blog will evolve and stuff later. Right now, a chronicle would be nice. So let me continue by starting from the beginning.

It was quite weird today when my dad shook me up and I felt this considerably disturbing pain in my upper chest/lower neck. After about five seconds of beating at my nerves, the pain let up and I shrugged the whole thing and went off to take my shower. Unfortunately, the whole incident recurred multiple times again throughout the day, and by the start of second hour, I was telling Mr. Quillen, my calculus teacher, that I might have to head down to the nurse some time during his period if I was feeling particularly bad. Thankfully, the pain didn't spring up too much in calculus, though I did half-doze through about the second half of class since today was a review day for the test on Monday and quiz on Tuesday. Everything was pretty normal (except for a couple of times in Multimedia where I thumped my chest to try to make myself feel better somehow) until lunch. I got myself a small meal today because I wasn't feeling particularly hungry and they had the good fries today. Now those fries may be good, but I can never finish them if I get a large order, so I settled for a normal one. Sadly enough, these fries caused me considerable grief when I was eating--who knows? Maybe chewing aggravates whatever was going on. Whatever the case, the pain was being particularly troublesome now and I figured I'd pay a visit to the nurse since I was still in study hall after lunch and that this pain wasn't exactly dying. Needless to say, the nurse's office is a nice place where they provide you with a bed to sleep in, but I needed an instructor's voice to drone me to sleep if that were to work, so that positive was out. Besides that, the nurse was taking her thirty minute lunch when I got in, so I would have to wait a while (and share attention with the other four or five patients that seemed to be hanging around). After about ten minutes, I decided I could come back later if I needed to, and I checked myself out.

The rest of the day the pain sort of returned every now and again, but it never came back with quite the full force of what it was at lunch. Damn, I wish I knew what was causing it, though.

Anyways, Mr. Mandeville came in during Decathlon to talk to us about art. I learned some more specific things about the various printmaking techniques--especially intaglio! Yay!--but otherwise it was a talk about Roman pillars and Star Trek. That's right folks: Star Trek. It only lasted about a minute though. For one reason or another, I said the name "Hugh", and Mr. Mandeville asked "Hugh Who?" and I said "Hugh the Borg" and sort of grinned to myself as I always do when I make a reference to something like Star Trek that the teacher wouldn't understand. Amazingly enough, Mr. Mandeville understood. "Oh, I remember that one. 'We are Hugh' and all that" was something like what he said. We then started talking a little bit about the rudiments of the Borg and that episode--how Hugh was given various individual qualities and how the Borg were such an amazing creation and such things. It felt really good to talk about that after we talked pointlessly about Roman pillars for a minute or two. Anyways, Mr. Mandeville is now really cool.

After Decathlon, our physics class (along with all the other physics classes during sixth hour) met in the library so we could get talked to by a fellow who's the father of this one dude I had in my leadership class last year. The fellow was a geophysicist and he came in to talk to us about waves and how he uses them in his work and everything. No offense to our prensenter or to geophysicists, but this guy put me to sleep very very quickly, and I never entirely woke up until the end of the demonstration. Damn fine thing I was in the middle row so the teachers didn't notice me.

Then went to English which consisted mostly of distilled death in the form of AP Multiple Choice questions. I managed to finish off about fifty-five or six, but it was not pretty at all. After that, I tested out Mrs. Shank's odd little birthday party thing that was being held after school, but left quickly when none of her former freshmen from the Class of 2004 showed up.

The rest consisted of me going to Pippin with Travis, Eric, Cody, and Airon, watching, loving, singing along for a very small part, et cetera. After the play, Eric and Cody and me headed back to Eric's house (with Jordan and Beth in tow) to play pingpong. I'd go into more detail, but I'm now getting quite tired as I write this. Anyways, I won a couple of nice matches, then we all went home, and on the way we got to drop off this book that Eric checked out while he was with me at the library some time back in October or November and was on my card. At least it's not going to get more late charges. Whoopee! Hasta la byebye folks!

Hey folks, Cantay here with another beauteous installment of orthographic scintillation and literary bombasticity!

Heheh... I now know how those people on Furc who write those obscenely verbose do it.

"Gee... let's take this word here... 'eye'... and make a better word. Aha! 'Ocular!'"

"Does that even make sense, Kittyboy2002?"

"Of course it does, Tigger Pooh! I look it up in my thesaurus!"

"All right. What about the word 'tail'?"

"Hmm... lemme check. Aha! 'Flagellum!'"

"I've never heard THAT one before."

"Neither have I, Tigger, but I bet it will sound really impressive when you tell people you have a bouncy flagellum!"

Jesus Cristo! (pronounced HEY-zeus KREES-toh) What imbecility! I want to bash my little head in with a two-by-four right now... maybe I could go over to John's house and see if he has any extra wood from the catapult project of ours.

Anyways, folks, I'm writing here partially because I want to and partially because it's either this or homework. What homework could be so fearsome, you ask? For me, any, but tonight's batch is especially evil: read the last eight pages of an article for Government and write a page about it, polish (and type up) three or four works in English that were supposed to be polished by today and read that pesky book "Pride and Prejudice" followed in short order by "Crime and Punishment", then do a sixty-something page art workbook for Decathlon written by a fellow who has ingested one too many caffeine pills, and, though he is a D&Der, has no business writing Demidec material.

I've had worse, but in those days I didn't have one of these blog-thingies.

Anyways, I've suddenly run out of steam (hurrah!) and now feel obligated to sit and stare at a large, colorful box with moving pictures and sound for a while. Or maybe I'll do my homework.... though the latter has about the same chance of happening as Howard Dean has of winning New Hampshire right about now... not good odds, those.

Academic Decathlon regional competition in eight days! W00t! I'm pumped! ...Almost! Just give me the weekend to recuperate, and all shall be well. Peace out folks, and hasta la byebye.

NERDS AND GEEKS FOR KERRY '04!

I would like to take this moment to tell everyone how much they suck. You guys suck. All of you.

Teehee. That was fun! ^.^

You know you want to be a part of this plural "you"! So far we only have one and a half people! Who else wants to suck? Come one, come all! Start sucking! I need more people to suck! So suck, damn you! Suck!

Until the byebye (a translation of "Hasta la byebye").

Hey there once again, folks. Today I want to focus on another blog and post something of a defense for it. It's been getting a lot of comments and le author wants them to stop. I think the discussion caused could be pretty cool (and I need an audience), so I want to post here what would become the 33rd comment on Eric's blog. Should you wish to read the edition and that caused the thirty-two comments to appear, find the appropriate link to the right and scroll down to January 14th.

I don't think I could say I agree entirely with what Eric's saying--or what I think he's saying--, but I rarely entirely agree with anyone that anything says, so it's all good.

However, I think the general feeling that I got from Eric's blog was that love is imperfect. "Wait," you say. "Didn't Eric mention the perfection of love?" I say he did, but he's talking about the ideal. He's talking about what it is that everyone strives for. Love that is felt in our world, the non-ideal world, is not ideal.

I ask you to take a moment and think here. Nothing in our world is perfect. Many things are really cool, but nothing is perfect. There is no such thing as a "perfect day" or a "perfect moment" or a "perfect suit". It is impossible. Yet those are all expressions we will use in day-to-day life to describe things that are wonderful, glorious, breath-taking, or .

You may contest this. You may try to find examples of perfection everywhere, but there's always something better; some way that something could be made to work just a tad more smoothly. It's always the case. This does not mean that something can't be the best experience of your life or the finest thing you've ever seen. It just means that it is not the universal best.

Back to love, now. Love, like everything that exists in our profane world is tainted. No matter how lovely any romance may seem, no matter how absolutely PERFECT two people are for each other, it is simply impossible to reach the ideal. This does not mean at all that people cannot come together and love; it means that they cannot reach the universally best standard for love.

It is perfectly healthy for couples to argue. Loving couples do it all the time. But arguing isn't perfect. Bringing that into love makes love imperfect (as though trying to bring something perfect into a generally imperfect world weren't enough). This can be said for many things--people enjoy their eye-candy, but does this mean that they do not love their significant other? No. Well that's just something imperfect then.

Eric labeled love an illusion. I don't know if he meant ideal love or love in general, but taking Eric to be a logical being (though an emotional one as well), I will assume that he meant ideal love. Perhaps he was also suggesting that the love we can feel in this world is superficial as well, though he may merely have been referring to the problems of what people are too quick to label as love. So many little relationships that we will go through in our lives don't really have love in them--at least not enough to merit the name. I think he may have been taking a strike at that.

Honestly, though, I don't know what Eric was thinking. No one does. I may have misinterpreted his writing entirely, and if I have, then I've made a mistake. But that's ok.

All I know is that regardless of the fact that I know that I can never get the best love, I will always welcome love and embrace it. I know that I will be content with the profane, because nothing can ever be perfect, and that though anything I feel for another could always be made better, it's the best I'd know to make it. I know that I will pursue that beautiful impossibility and enjoy it.

Hasta la byebye, folks.

I just had a thought. You guys probably don't know what zugzwang is. Well, I've gotta keep this short, as I have seven or eight hours to write four or five essays (yay!). Zugzwang is a term often used in chess (and likely in war) which refers to a position where you are currently at your position of highest safety (or occasionally a position of high offense) and you are required by some circumstance (in chess, the fact that it's your move) to move out of that safe position into a less safe position. It's actually very difficult for me to put a fellow into zugzwang intentionally--or at least, severe zugzwang.

And besides, zugzwang's an awesome word! Just say it! Oh, and as a disclaimer, I don't know if I'm spelling it right or not. There is a possibility that it's "zugszwang" or "zugzswang" but either way I'm not really sure.

Anyways folks, my applications require doin'. Hasta la byebye.

Two essays to do for George Washington before the sun rises. Can Cantay do them? Catch the morning news and find out if he collapses on his keyboard or manages to squeeze the last bits of coherent thought out of himself... and waste it on a blog. Oh, huzzah! And hasta la byebye, don't forget that.

I'm taking a short break in my application process to say right now that I desire physical contact in the form of cuddling right this moment. Yes, that is correct. Cuddling. We'd be wearing pajamas and watching some movie like Platoon or Beauty and the Beast. And we'd cry together, and we wouldn't want to do anything stupid to each other to spoil the moment. We'd sit there and bask in each other's presence, letting the wonder of it all seep into us together. I think I'd really like that.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HA!

I think that effectively describes me at this moment. Just in case you can't tell, that's insane laughter. But they say that laughing is the ultimate healer, yes? Then I shall continue! HA!

Ah, how I wish I were some sort of anthropomorphic animal right now (preferably a fox or goat, of course) so that when I jump on furniture like I feel inclined to do now, I'd think to myself that I look really cool while doing it. And then if I were a goat I could get my horns stuck in the ceiling, and it would be lovely.

BWAHAHAHA! I love just yelling at this blog! It helps me spend all of that extra energy I get from the adrenaline and endorphins which I get because I'm Cantay and I always have plenty of both.

Life is beautiful! Do not ask for extra snacks! Hide before the Nazis get you! Hasta la byebye!

Oh, and I'm sure that most of you folks don't need to hear it, but if you care to comment either here or in person, please be gentle. Normally I'd invite the sort of criticism that I throw upon you, but for this I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything too caustic--at least not until a week or so has passed.

I cannot sleep.

I have thoughts in my head that must be recorded now because every second they linger unwritten they become further and further profaned. Already I feel it draining away from me. I must write.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am in serious pain. For a great deal of time now there has been a longing inside of me for someone.

Do you know what it feels like to feel that way? Do you know what it's like to have your waking hours consumed by one thing, to be unable to detach yourself from it? Do you know what it's like to have to wrestle with yourself to go to sleep at night because your mind wandered and there you are again? Do you know what it's like to hate feeling this way?

I've said many things to myself to try to forget it. I've told myself that it would never work; that it was not meant to be; that she knows nothing of this; that this is just my foolish, inexperienced youth crying out once again like it has before. But at the same time I doubt all of that. I wonder if I really am being a fool. I wonder if I'm trying to make myself leave something that is good. But I know in my emotionless, calculating heart of hearts that the chances are that this is a bad thing. That this will only end up causing me pain.

But hasn't it already caused me pain? Everytime I think of it I start to get a little sick a sour look comes across my face--not because I hate the feeling itself, but I hate what the feeling may do to me. Whenever I think I may have done something foolish towards her, I can't stop beating my brains. Every little thing she does I look over obsessively. How does she behave this day? Am I the cause of it? Am I merely a sideshow to her? What is she thinking?

I am in zugzwang! I cannot move. I am at my best place right now, believe it or not. If I were to do something, my situation would become infinitely worse.

There were words in my head before this; before when I was in bed and trying to banish my brain of electrical activity. They were beautiful words that expressed my feelings so eloquently, but with the time it took me to decide to power up the computer and type as far as I have, those fragile words have evaporated and all I have left to express my feelings is brute language.

But that will not stop me, for there is yet more.

I do not know what it is I feel. It is not love; love cannot come from what I have experienced. Or do I love? I never allowed myself to consider this possibility, but is what I feel love? Have I felt love before? Ever since eighth grade I've been deathly afraid of the l-word; to speak it would be to invoke the wrath of the gods and make me vomit all over you. But what if it IS love? What if I really, genuinely feel that?

Some of my Cinconian friends, you will laugh. I have told some of you small bits of my misadventures, and you will say that what I feel cannot be love. Damn, how I wish I could be as certain as you; as certain as I was yesterday. But suddenly my brain has turned over. A revolution has occurred! From no apparent stimulus whatsoever, my entire method of thinking seems to have taken a slight, but crucial step in some direction--let us pray that it is forward.

Maybe what I feel is because of an absence I've had before. Many of you know--and for those that didn't, you do now--that I have only had one girlfriend my entire life, and that that short-lived relationship happened in eighth grade. Maybe I wanted a girlfriend and I never let myself know that. Maybe I've always wanted someone to go to the movies with and hold hands with and share tender kisses with, and maybe that's why I feel as I do now. Or maybe this whole thing is genuine. Or maybe it's both.

Curse it if I know!

And the worst part, oh yes, the very worst part! She doesn't know! She doesn't have a clue--or at the very least she hasn't shown that she has a clue. What's worse? I still will not tell her! After this blog is entered, I will shut down my computer, remove my pants, and go to bed. When I wake up, I will have an iron will and I will be determined to never let her know--not at least until another epiphany strikes me.

All I have to hope for is that she can somehow sense the vibes shooting out from me and that she will respond; that she will either embrace me or turn me away. Oh, how I hope that I get something definite and I hope that this whole crazy business of my adolescent heart does not continue! If you're out there and you know who you are, yea or nay! Yea or nay before hope carries me any further.

(And then there's the problem of hope's involvement in either a yea or a nay, but I have written enough to appease myself for now. Hasta la byebye.)

Buenos dias otra vez! Immediately after I finished posting in multimedia, I decided I could go ahead and do the same in study hall! (Not long till lunch now, so it'll be brief).

Anyway, I wasn't quite as done griping about college as I may have seemed a few minutes ago--there's more for me to be angry about.

My counselors have done a lot for me, they really have, but when they mess up on little things, it tends to make you forget all the cool stuff they've done for you and make you angry. What happened? Well, when I handed them a form for Emerson--a midyear grade report for in case the transcript didn't have semester grades on it--they told me that that would be something I'd send after those grades were officially recorded. I, being the fool that I am, accepted this when they told me the same thing twice, and did not include it in the package I gave to my counselors to fill out. Unfortunately, I was checking Emerson's page last night as well as the form they gave me, and both made it expressly clear that they wanted those grades unofficially BEFORE January 15 if they could not get them officially. This made me mad. Everything was sent off yesterday to Emerson, GWU, NYU, and Colgate; it was too late to add that into my package, and I didn't want to impose on the counselors by making them fill out ANOTHER form. I have written to Emerson asking if I could just fax them my report card or something, since that would make everyone's life easier, but I have a sinking feeling that that won't be acceptable.

To compound this frustration, I learned that there is a supplement (as well as a part of my application I forgot to send) that I still need to mail off to GW. This is likely the same situation with Colgate, since they, like George Washington, require the use of the common application (well, GW only makes you use the common if you do it online, but same difference). I hope that these colleges don't mind too much when they receive my application in little bits and pieces.

Anyways, gotta run. Bell rang. Food time. Hasta la byebye, putos!

Buenos dias, mis padres, amigos, y abuelos! Como estan? Yo? Yo estoy bien, gracias.

Chupa la verga, por favor.

Heheheh... for those of you that know slang Spanish, props to you, because that's some seriously important shiznock you were able to understand.

I'm currently in Multimedia with John sitting by my side and a substitute teacher watching my every word--likely with great anticipation.

I am discussing the art of orthography with ol' John at the moment and we're giggling to ourselves, but I am moreso because John can't spell worth shit either. And maybe if I can keep quiet while typing this, he won't look over and see what I'm saying about him. That bastard. He looked.

All right, I would like to apologize now to John for saying he can't spell worth shit. He can spell with some degree of decency--bettar then sum peepul eye no. Ok, so that was a bit flagrant and uncouth, and generally not humorous, but I'm in school right now, subsisting on the bilious fluid that is pooling in my stomach and making me feel like a very sick little Cantay. This fluid is also composed--in large part--of stomach acid. That's right; I'm hungry, dammit! Give me food! Thankfully, lunch is about forty or so minutes away, and sweet, sweet (nasty-ass) school pizza with it.

Anyways, folks, time's running short so let me give you the skinny: colleges suck! Last night I was up till 3 working on appplications--mostly printing out GW's supplement to the common app, then registering on commonapp, then being unable to log on because they suck! I also had to go to collegeboard.com and request my SAT scores get sent to some institutions. It cost me $49 to send my scores to four (4) schools. $23 of that was for the rush delivery which was necessary because I'd sort of forgotten about doing it until then. Curse applications! I have tonight, tomorrow night, and the night after that to kill myself with the applications. Huzzah.

Anyways folks, the bell's a-ringin'. Remember to watch out for Communists under your bed. Hasta la byebye.

Hey folks... I'm currently in a lull in the roleplaying, and sort of discussing the merits of Radiohead with this other fellow who is apparently afraid of them. Oh well. Sarosh (that's right, Sarosh!) told me I'd better get a-bloggin'... or a-applyin' (does that work, now, having two "a"s like that?) maybe. Either way, I'm gonna blog first!

On the college front, good news! No, I haven't done my applications, you dolt, you have read the first paragraph, yes? No, the good news is that I have finally taken care of my necessary recommendation letters, and I'm feeling happy. Mr. Eaton, Mrs. Harkins, and Mrs. David (my counselor) are writing! Yay! That leaves the apps themselves, sure, but I'm ok. January 15 is the day, baby! Let there be w00t!

Pah... lull's over... sorry folks.. I'll come back, I'm sure... and.... hasta la byebye!