I’m such a happening person that I did my taxes on Saturday night. It was totally awesome, except for the realization that I’m not going to get anywhere near enough money back from the government.

That, and I got ding-dong-dashed at 12:15 am. Mid-tax-preparation, mind you. Note that I don’t have a doorbell.

So, at 12:15, I hear a sudden rap on my door. I’d call it a cop-knock, but that would be a disservice to respectable cop-knocks around the world. I immediately hear some large guy tearing ass down the hallway… and into his room. Simple process of elimination made it quite obvious which room it was.

I was tempted to do the same thing back—at 8:00 am the next morning. (I’d go earlier, but it’s less illegal at 8:00.) Except… I dunno… I’d probably dash for the stairs, and not my room?

My crotchal region is on fire! I didn’t expect dancing to discover so many out-of-shape, tiny muscles in my legs. Though they be tiny, they are absolutely critical to movement.

I apparently need to dance WCS more often. Or never again.

A blog is the Tamagotchi of the twenty-first century. Instead of playing with it, feeding it food, and clearing away its waste (…I never did get that…), you have three options:

1) Feed it interesting posts

2) Feed it crap posts

3) Ignore it

<snarky>MySpace is the result of choosing option (2) repeatedly.</snarky>

The sad thing about a blog is that it doesn’t know when to die. You have to take it back out behind the barn and shoot it yourself—and, being the procrastinator that you probably are, you wait far too long before you do that.

This, however, is also the strength of the blog: it’s not going to up and die on you if you aren’t in the mood for blogging.

If it hasn’t already been apparent, I haven’t had the blogging spirit as of late. When I sit down and try to type something up (which I want to do, dangit), I find my output offensively dry—a litany of the day’s events, without any actual flavor or energy to spice things up. (“Crap posts,” in short.) I curb my swearing when it gets to the point where I offend myself; I apparently treat my blog the same way.

Quite honestly, this is the only place where I actually write anything of any substance nowadays. It’s beginning to show.

…

In my senior year of high school, my Honors Essay and Inquiry class encouraged us to find joy in writing. We would write each day in a journal, and at the end of each week we’d choose our favorite piece and share it with the others—in many ways, that class reminds me of the fictional ideal of a “college class” more than most of my actual-college experiences do. Most days there would be a seed idea we could base our writing on, but we almost always had the freedom to reject that seed and forge our own path. Today, for example, I might opt to curse my foolishness at attending a west coast swing dance on Saturday without properly building up my west coast swing muscles.

It’s high-time to regain that joy of writing. I’ve lost it over the last year, and I intend to get it back.

That’s actually been true of a lot of my life, lately: I feel like I’ve lost the twinkle in my eye, the spring in my step. (I’m not complaining, mind you—the weird thing is that life is going well right now. I just don’t seem to recognize that on some primitive level.) It’s high time for me to fight to regain my joie de vivre.

Jacqui nails the Mooninite issue on the head, in fewer words than I would have used.

This reminds me of the Mario question-block bomb scare from last year. I yearn for the time when people would see things like these and have one of two responses:

1) Childlike wonder/amusement

2) “Kids these days”

Note that I have nothing against the second response; one day I hope to have that kind of response myself. (Yes, a Mooninite flipping me off still amuses me something fierce.)

I need to post quickly, to achieve my Tomo-esque ends. That is, namely, to post my tenth post for the month of January.

Haha, GreyDuck! We’re tied!

Yay!

[For those who don’t get the reference (which is probably everybody but me): in the particular Azumanga Daioh scene I’m attempting to emulate, Tomo (unabashed idiot) decides that she’s going to challenge Chiyo-chan (child genius) in class. Their first—and only—competition is when Chiyo-chan is asked a question, and doesn’t know the answer. Tomo then shoots her hand up, only to admit that she too doesn’t know the answer. Tomo then turns around to Chiyo-chan and proudly announces that they are tied.]

Time has been in short supply for the last while. Also I’ve been feeling lazy.

Things aren’t going to get better for the next couple days, though, because I’m headed off to Sun River over the weekend to celebrate Andy’s birthday. I don’t anticipate having internet access, and even if I do have internet access, I’m not planning on bringing my computer. I will take my camera, however; we’ll see if anything comes of that.

I’ll be riding with Brian and Nate, who will suffer from my being in the depths of another Phoenix Wright binge. (The newly released Justice for All, of course. I actually paid retail for it, which is something I never do.) I anticipate at least one cooperative attempt to solve a case during the car ride over… should be interesting, if not exactly efficient.

Right now, though, I have four hours to run errands, stop by work briefly, and pack. Eep.

For whatever reason, I’ve got the hankering to listen to You’re the One That I Want.

Yes. From Grease.

…

I’m pretty sure I could do without having the Grease soundtrack sitting on my shelf, though.

Maybe I should cough up 99 cents for iTunes’ DRM-laden version…?

I had my oil changed today, which gave me the misfortune of being exposed to ambient daytime TV noise. Lessons learned?

From Divorce Court: don’t procreate just because you can. Also, neither age nor having sex makes you an adult. ::duh kanji::

From Judge Christine: In this show, Judge Christine takes the law… into her own heart. ::gag kanji::

[I refuse to see if these shows have associated web sites.]

…

[Re: ::blah kanji::: The online chat feature of Ridge Racer 7 allows you to use various small pictures in your messages—not just emoticons, but also things like a party popper, a thumbs-up sign, and a toilet (?). Failing to come up with a better descriptor of these pictures, Brian and I—following Andy’s lead—broadened our use of the term “kanji” to mean (roughly) any picture used for the purpose of communication. In Ridge Racer we might use the ::thumbs up kanji:: or the ::toilet kanji::; in practice we’ll pretty much slap “kanji” after anything we’d prefer understood as a pictograph.]

[[If you want to be pedantic, you might argue that “pictograph” is that better term for this concept. I would then argue that pictograph fails to be as entertaining in use as kanji—and that, personally, is a crucial test of betterness.]]

So I went to dance practice tonight—by far the best decision I’ve made all day*—which left me in the unfortunate position of being Not At Home when the water on the ground froze.

[*At dance practice I rated Janis’ attempt at improving her samba within the framework of a Guitar Hero score; this was arguably the second-best thing I did all day.]

I only used my antilock brakes once. There was only one low-speed drift, but Reiko would have been proud at how I performed. Which is to say: I drive better in real life than I do in Ridge Racer. [For those in-the-know: I would rate it a solid drift with a mild-type car, or a stellar drift with a normal-type one.]

The streets were littered with the debris of other racers who didn’t make the cut**. I did not join their ranks.

[**Really one fender-bender that took a car’s headlight out—but there were two officers on the scene!]

The sad thing is that both of my ice-related events happened at speeds of under five miles an hour. I made it up to fifteen in the thirty zone, but had no issues with the higher speed. Obvious lesson: drive fast on ice.

There was a long period of time—starting after The X-Files went downhill—where I’d barely watch TV. Maybe I’d stop and watch a random Law & Order or CSI with Dad, but there wasn’t anything that I’d actually make a point to watch.

Times have changed.

I don’t watch the umpteen hours that the average person watches, but I do have some favored shows:

First, House. Brilliant antisocial maverick doctor. I once overheard my coworkers discussing the show, commenting on how mean House had been. I prefer the term awesome.

Second, NCIS. Wisecracking investigators is a solid combination in my book, and I’m a fan of Mark Harmon’s Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Third, 24. I only started watching last season (the fifth!), but it was easy to see why people got hooked. One of the reasons I enjoy anime is the opportunity that thirteen or twenty-six episodes provides to tell a coherent story—you just can’t do anything similar in a two-hour movie, and TV back in the day consisted almost entirely of sitcoms. 24 was one of the first shows to change that—I was just slow to notice.

Fourth, Heroes. Holy smokes. Hot damn. Wow. It’s got characters, story, direction, and just grabbed me from the season premiere and hasn’t let go. I have a soft spot for Hiro (he had me at the Keroro Gunsou bobblehead figure on his desk); Masi Oka has done a hell of a job making his Japanese goofball character lovable.

[What kind of role models do I have?]

Fifth, The Amazing Race. Phil Keoghan is an amiable host, and the editing of the race is top-notch. The show is at its best when it lets you see parts of the world you might not otherwise see; it’s at its worst when it plays on the teams’ various fears for the sake of drama. The sightseeing usually wins. Usually.

…

Other shows I watch, but wouldn’t cry about missing (unlike the above), include How I Met Your Mother (mostly for Neil Patrick Harris, but also Alyson Hannigan) and The Class (mostly to see how the concept of “eight elementary school classmates reunite” can be sustained an entire season). I enjoy watching Ugly Betty and/or My Name is Earl, but haven’t made a habit of ’em. I’d watch Jericho, but it airs on Wednesday nights during (gasp!) dance practice.

…

Yes, it’s true. I don’t actually watch E!, even though I claim it’s the most entertaining channel I get with basic cable.