A terrible day...

...perhaps not.
As most anybody who reads this will already know, a stupendously awesome thing happened yesterday. I was given a shirt. "What the-" you begin to interject, but I interrupt you with, "Not just any shirt mind you! But a black polo shirt with the SoF logo emblazoned on the left breast." I'm delighted, I'm astounded, I really don't have words to describe this. Once again I came to the Fools feeling dejected and depressed and left incredibly happy. How do they do that? Thanks guys. Thanks a lot!
Moving beyond metaphysical queries, I've got another little bit of writing for ya'll. This is a glimpse into Jared's deeply shrouded and incredibly mysterious past...

~ The young pilot stepped forward resolutely, if not arrogantly.
"Sir you sent for me, sir?"
His eyes stayed obediently on the far wall as he addressed his SO.
"Yeah Slammer, I sent for ya'. Any guesses as to why?"
"Sir I have no clue. Probably something to do with my flying, sir."
Admiral Levy feigned shock. "Your flying? Why in heaven's name would I have a problem with your flying?"
Jared knew the drill by now. Levy liked a confession, preferably with a repentant attitude. Jared had not yet perfected his repentant attitude. He knew that after 10 or 15 minutes of listening to Levy go off about everything but the weather, and sometimes that as well, he would be assigned "discipline", usually taking the form of mess duty, solitary, or grounding. Sometimes all three.
The fellers in mess really enjoyed Jared's company, and Jared usually enjoyed his own company, so the first two weren't that bad. The grounding was really the only one that bothered him and he didn't have to worry about it to often. Levy liked keeping him in the air. Despite his "attitude problem" Jared was a good pilot. Levy most often went for the solitary, and it was this habit that had earned Jared his call name.
It was a well documented fact that "Slammer" had logged nearly a thousand air hours and at least that many in solitary. The general opinion aboard the USS Nimitz was that Jared spent all his time in solitary coming up with new ways to bend the rules and thus irritate Levy.
Admiral Levy finally fell silent and looked Jared over. The boy was barely out of his teens, couldn't even buy himself a beer, and yet he was one of the best pilots that Levy and the Nimitz had ever seen. If only he could keep his mind on just flying the plane by the rules!
"You're in solitary Slammer. 3 days."
"Sir yes, sir."
The boy was still to stinking arrogant.
"You'll only come out for the scheduled training runs the day after tomorrow."
"Sir yes, sir." Jared repeated with a perfectly unreadable face. Levy finally gave up.
"That'll be all."
As Jared escorted himself to solitary he whistled and grinned at everyone he passed. He'd been a little worried that Levy would go for grounding him this time, but as it turned out he wouldn't even miss the training run. He really did have excellent luck. ~

With special thanks to...

...my dear friend Benji and wonderful sister Christine, who's wisdom and knowledge inspired and propelled me to new and unsurpassed heights of wealth and prestige. I owe it all to you!

~ Sam tried to gasp, tried to cry out but couldn't take a breath. He could feel his ribs moving under his hands as he desperately clutched his stomach, trying to will himself to breath. It felt like there were knives sticking into his lungs.
The edges of his vision began to go foggy and it suddenly washed over him. Through the pain he felt his legs and arms go numb. He would die here. They would kill him, in as slow a manner as possible, and he would die before America, his home, his Mother Country, bothered to come get him.
There was never a time in Sam's life that he'd felt so spectacularly alone in the universe. Up to this point he'd subconsciously entertained the notion that a bunch of special op's would come sweeping in at any moment and pull them back to safety, a bit roughed up, but none the worse for wear.
Now he was cut adrift. Hopelessness cascaded through him. There was no one coming. There was no point in hanging on.
At that very moment, a split second before he finally let go and plunged into the black void, his lungs decided that the battle wasn't over. After what seemed forever and a day of struggling to get that breath, it finally came when he'd stopped fighting.
Immediately Sam wished he hadn't taken it. It seared it's way down and stabbed into his chest. He gasped and rolled to his back in an attemp to relieve the renewed pressure on his ribs.
It didn't help. ~

There ya have it folks. Yet another torture scene by yours truly. Sam is not the main character in this story, Jared is. But my dearest (and only) sister claimed that I only ever tortured Jared. I mistakenly let slip that "Jared was easier to torture." By which I meant that he lent his character more readily to torture scenes, not that he was more fun to torture. And so to prove her wrong I started writing about poor Sam more. Please do leave me feedback on it. Honesty is always appreciated, but mindless flattery will also do nicely. :)

I'll have the Academia Cliche', and please hold the introspection...

So I've been meaning to write a new post for some while now, but truth be told, I haven't got much to write about. I think we all know that I could easily bang out a few paragraphs on how my classes are going, and what we did at the last improv meeting, but that seems just a tad played out. I've noticed all my posts are looking extraordinarily similar of late. Perhaps this is a commentary on my life.
I do have to throw this in. Any Fools that read this, you've no idea how grateful and indebted I am to you. Last semester was hard. My first time living away from home, first time in a big school. It's a huge adjustment to make. You all made a way for me to laugh and have fun, but not just that, you've become my main group of friends as well.
That having been said, I knew going into this semester that with the courses I have it would be hard, and I was right. Talk about hanging on by your eye-teeth. It's wonderful to know that at least once a week I can let it all go and just relax and laugh (not to mention all the other times when Ryan and Benji give me excellent academia related advice/support). I really don't know what I would do without it. I guess if you're going to be addicted to something, SoF is as good a choice as you can make.
Every semester there comes a time that I begin thinking things like: "Well gee, working at McDonald's until I'm 87 doesn't actually sound like it's that bad of an option..." But then I remind myself that anytime I'm out of school for more then a week I start to get restless and miss it insanely.
There is a part of me that is scared to death to graduate. I really don't want to buckle down and get a job and act like an adult. I have the glimmering image of a job I'll love and be excited to go to every day in my mind's eye, but what if it's not like that? What if I decide it's boring after the first week like all my other jobs? But then the tiny Renee' on the other shoulder is telling me that I'd better hurry the heck up and graduate because eventually the grant money is going to run out and I'm going to need a job that pays slightly above minimum wage.
Being a student for the rest of my natural born days does have it's appeal. It changes from week to week. I'll not be bored, that's for sure. But I really doubt that I'd like to live the rest of my life in a dorm. Although I have to admit it would be rather fun to go and talk with my RA about my mid-life crisis and menopause and stuff like that. There really is always a silver lining isn't there?
This little article has actually gotten quite a bit longer then I had originally intended. Just goes to show that when I'm in a mood to muse I should not under any circumstances be left unsupervised.

Let me see if I can't come up with a nice quote from one of my made-up people to wrap things up...
~ Just let me do it. I promise you, I'm not nearly as stupid as I look. What's that? What's that laugh? You don't believe me!" ~ Ben Johnson
(which funnily enough, Johnson is my mom's maiden name. Am I creative or what?)

Oscar Wilde?...Is that you?...

Disclaimer: The above mentioned subject title has nothing whatsoever to do with the content and/or subject matter of this blog entry. There was never a time, nor will there ever be, when the author was/is in any way associated with Oscar Wilde and/or his associates.

Good morning Indiana!

As some and/or all of you may know yesterday was Friday. Being Friday there was an SoF practice as usual, and it went pretty darn good if I do say so myself. After a trying week a little helping o' puns, wordplay, rhymes, mime, and gibberish were just what I needed. I left a much brighter person then I came!
I had a couple firsts last night. My first Do Run and Dating Game. I didn't want to go home with either bachelors 1 or 3, The Roadrunner and Going Through the Process of Rusting respectively. But I did feel definite chemistry with bachelor 2 who was "the father of the atomic bomb" Robert Oppenheimer, and who I guessed was a mad New York scientist, despite Benji's excellent clues that, looking back on it, I realize really went above and beyond the call of duty.

To finish things off I'll give you a few sentences I wrote down in my little notebook some time this summer. Seriously though, I bet you guys are going to think I write only torture pieces. I'm here to tell you that that's not true. All evidence to the contrary. You're going to start thinking I'm some kinda freak...

~ "Stand!" Akbar roared.
Wincing, clutching his abdomen Sam tried to get to his feet, falling twice in the slick puddle of his own blood. Finally upright, he swayed uncertainly and was consumed by a violent coughing fit that left blood dripping from his lips and chin. A tiny disillusioned voice in a distant corner of his mind advised, logically enough, that that couldn't be a good sign and perhaps he should see a doctor.~

It's high time...

...for a new post! I realize that the ol' blog has been somewhat neglected of late, but I've got good reason and just cause. I'm busy.
As for updates, school/classes are going pretty good. It's nearing the time for first exams. I was looking at my schedule the other day and realized that Friday will wrap up the fourth week of classes! Time flies when you're having fun.
In other news, the Ship of Fools callout was a huge success. And when I say huge I mean gigantic. Kyle estimated that there were between 55 and 60 people there, not counting Fools. The show was excellent and there were several very enthusiastic new audience members who I am fully expecting to return for a second dose.
Oh, and happy Grandparent's Day Nan and Pap. I realize that this is a tad late and that a good grandchild would probably call or send a card, probably even on Grandparent's Day, but I forgot. Sorry. I love you!

I shall end with a quote. *ehem*
"Aren't you supposed to shoot them? Doesn't that help recovery?"
~Benji-upon looking at a picture of the cut on Tiger's leg.