ladowiczaaaaaaa

Break is NOT good.

I feel constricted.  I stay up every night until 4 (invariably) and sleep in until 1 (invariably).  This isn't the worst circadian cycle I've been on, but I'm trying to stop, and I'm having a lot of trouble.

The last week has been mostly movies and videogames, mostly alone.  I'm not having fun.

Barstow's around all week, Michael's finally got a bit of time, and Marken wants to hang out.  Probably Liz too.

I have most (sorry, Jirard!) of my best SoCal friends at my fingertips, and then some!  Jesus left a message on my phone yesterday, which I've yet to return.

And I can't figure out what to do.


Have I forgotten how to hang out?  Have a good time?



Jesus Christ, this is a VACATION.  Why can't I enjoy myself?

Oh yeah, one more thing-

The six classes I took this semester were hell.  The worst, the absolute worst.


But I finished them.



I got my grades back on Wednesday.  I have no fucking clue how I did it, but I passed all of my courses.

Even Accounting, with a C-, the lowest grade you can get and still have it count toward the minor.



So I'm still on track.  I don't have to drop anything.


Academically, I'm fine.




In your face, University of Miami!
In your fucking face!!

Hello hello hello.

It's winter break.  The last "winter break" I'll ever have, and the last four-week stretch of my life in which I don't have to worry about a job, at least until I'm in my seventies.

I'm home.  On the West Coast of the country.



I've been home for over a week, and it's been cold.  Real cold.  I'm talkin' 37 degrees Fahrenheit with wind chill.  My tropically-tuned body can hardly take it.

Break has been... pretty good.  Frankly, it's pretty much the same as all the other breaks before it- a few spots of glorious fun here and there, with a whole lot of nothing in between.


First there was the ComedySportz Alumni game, the annual matchup that has become my only chance to play good improv since graduation.  In my freshman year at Miami, they held it twice, in December and in May, and I played in both.  I passed up the 2007 and 2008 winter matches, and was just about ready to do so again.  The last match I was in, over two and a half years ago, did not go down very well.  And my improv exploits at Miami (aka my three-semester debacle with Just Kidding) were embarrasing at best.  In short, I feel that I have lost a lot of my performing talent since graduation, and with it, a good deal of self-confidence.

At the "night-before" alumni practice, these feelings were confirmed.  I was glad to suddenly be in the company of some of my closest friends and the funniest people I've ever known, but my contributions to the practice were lackluster.  In the random performer selection, I was not chosen, but then Maureen graciously gave up her spot after hearing that I hadn't been up to bat for so long.  I accepted.

For me, the show was... alright.  Not great, and certainly not as bad as the one that preceded it.  I was lucky; I got to play in the second half with Barstow, Jafari, George Graham and Erik Shalat (a recent grad), and they even made me captain.  I did an okay job onstage, so it wasn't a terrible night.  But my fears have been cemented: I am no longer on the same level as Michael and Allen, who have maintained their excellent stage presence throughout the years.  Of course that's no surprise; while I've been mucking around in Florida they've continued the path that made them great- Allen with his acting repertoire and Michael with the college team.  I'm not there anymore.  I can't hold a candle to the king-of-the-world showstopper I was back in '06.

For me, the wind-down party at Henessey's was a lot more fun, as I got to hang out with some good, old friends, like Sime and Phil.

The next evening, we (me/Liz/Tony/Allen/Allen's-new-girl-Marqueta) went out to see Phil's new band, the Time Police, play at the Pig n' Whistle.  It was bitchin', even though we had to sit through almost two hours of other bands (ranging from pretty good to terrible) before they came on.  Afterwards, we went to check out Cousin Junebug at the M, a lounge near the downtown area.  It was pretty cool, though I was definitely the fifth wheel caught between two couples.  It's the usual.

Sunday night, the fam and I went out to see Mary Poppins at the Ahmanson Theater.  It was a good performance, though Barry and I were more intent on making stupid jokes the whole time.  We went to the Yardhouse for dinner beforehand with Amy and Amanda Ball (havurah peeps) and got two beer samplers.  I loved the stouts.

After returning to the hill, I met up with Jirard at the Barryte house to deliver a large wad of cash towards Michael's new computer.  We ended up hanging out for a few hours and playing Smash Bros with Zach, Nick Kotsianas and Erik.  We designed a penis stage and made giant-fast-metal level 9 computer jigglypuffs fight on it.  Good times.  Good night.

Tuesday night was the havurah Hanukkah party.  It was the same as always: Eh.  The only highlight of the evening was the discovery that my phone's screen was somehow cracked in my pocket.

I saw Avatar today.  It was... superficial.



And that's pretty much it.  It sounds pretty grand, but I'm not feeling all that satisfied with this break so far.  I've spent the past week doing my old home trick: slothing.

I haven't unpacked yet.  Nor have I begun any of the things I need to take care of while I'm here (settle banking stuff, find a narrator for TB&TW, call up industry contacts to try and figure out my future, etc.).  It's an existence of pure laziness, and I don't like it.  Relaxing after a tough semester is one thing, but this is a dearth of purpose.

I stay up late every night (roughly 4) and sleep late every day (roughly 1).  I don't want to go to sleep and I don't want to wake up.  Without a concrete schedule of things to do (which, ironically, I'm too lazy to draft), there's no point in getting out of bed until hunger necessitates it.



Also, I don't feel like I've seen my friends enough.

Of course, with a broken phone, I am a bit socially handicapped at the moment.  Not having a working screen means I can't communicate through text messages or look up phone numbers to call.  It kind of sucks.

I went to the Sprint Store hoping to negotiate a replacement, only to be told that I could pay $100 for a repair that could take weeks, or $150 to "upgrade" to an LG Rumor, a similar model I specifically rejected last year.  Sprint, you can kiss my ass.  It turns out that the phone is still under warranty by the manufacturer, Samsung.  So now I have to call them up and see what can be done.

In the meantime, my Dad kept all of our old phones.  I'm gonna take my old Motorola RAZR in to the Sprint Store and have them activate it as an interim phone.  Hooray for upgrades to a five-year-old model!

So... yeah.  Hopefully with the ability to communicate, I'll be seeing more friends this weekend.  Michael and Jirard have been really absent, since they're both busy in their respective corners away from PV.  I hope I'll get to see more of them before I leave on January 16.




All that's left to say is... Merry Christmas?

Monday: parking ticket.

Tuesday: Laptop and hard drive theft.

I'm just glad my brother's flight comes in on Thursday.

Fuck you, Wednesday!