Well then...

Short answer: I didn't have anything worth writing about. That doesn't make for much of an excuse for not rambling in a blog, no, but at least it saved you from having to slog through a giant wall of text only to find there wasn't any substance to it.

You're welcome.

2013... I could talk about how I graduated, but that's been done. Instead I'll talk about how I personally revoked one of my favorite pastimes: making fun of people that gave their kid goofy names.

I had my third child this year. Another boy, which makes it easier in the short term. We have all the clothes, and we can toss them all in the same room if we're low on space. But back to the matter at hand: we named him Zefram.

Are you done looking it up? You're right, it's from Star Trek. No, he wasn't named after the character. It just happens to be where I first heard it. The episode where the character was introduced aired 13 years before I was born. That doesn't stop the name from raising a few brows, but it does offer a distinction from more modern, "unique" names.

And it doesn't rhyme with -aiden.

I admit, the name did take some getting used to (we all just call him Z for short. I suppose if we went to Canada he would be called 'Zed' or something, but I digress), though when I look at what's happening to baby names, I figure by the time he's old enough for people to ask him about his own name, they'll probably think he's Jewish. (Unless *they're* Jewish, then I have some explaining to do)

So yea, in giving my son an unusual (or is it just uncommon?) name, I feel like I've lost the right to mock people who give their kids unusual names. Someone else will have to mock the parents of Brandolyn, McKaty, and Laken. I know you're up to the task, folks, don't let me down.

At least his middle name is Alan.

Twitch

Somewhere around the middle of this past spring, my eye started twitching. At first, it just felt like a tiny, itty little spasm. Weeks later, it was frequent enough to become a mild concern. Later still, it was actually impairing the vision in my left eye. Couldn't figure out what was causing it. Lack of sleep, poor diet, stress, something I can't pronounce? No idea.

It's been over two months since I walked out of my last undergraduate classroom.

I wanted to go to graduate school in Alaska. Yea, Alaska. Four thousand miles away, 5 time zones, 59th parallel and all that. Wanted to study Remote Sensing, figured I'd become one of those climate scientists the politicos are always claiming not to be. I was getting good vibes from up north, all signs pointed to go and all that. Of course, the phrase: "Yea, you know how we said we fund all our graduate students? That's not actually true" wasn't verbatim, but it was close enough.

When I started that endeavor, one of the professors that I asked for a letter of recommendation from said that she hadn't really thought I would head in that direction. I forget her exact wording, it was awhile ago. What hit me was the way she said it; it was like she was disappointed. I don't know, I have a hard time reading people. I should have asked her what she though I would have done. I never realized how much I valued her opinion.

So yea, grad school didn't happen. I more or less put all my eggs in one basket on that one, but that was just my optimism taking over. (I need an actual pair of rose tinted glasses, it would just work)

Then there was the idea of just getting a job. Since I was looking in a completely different direction the entire time, I wasn't really prepared for the fact that my degree isn't worth much without either several years experience, multiple technical certifications, or a masters degree.

...crap.

Ah yes, my student loans are about to come crashing down on me, I have no employment but a poorly paying gig to say the least, and a steep climb to make my degree useful. I'm not fishing for pity or advice. I'm just trying to say that the twitch in my eye clearly knew its welcome was worn out. It disappeared the other day and didn't leave so much as a whiff of it's cologne.

Coming up for air

It was my last semester. A quiet one. Kind of a lonely one, too. The money ended somewhat abruptly, and with little notice, in the middle of last fall. It was fortunate that I really only needed one more course to graduate, so this past spring, I only had the one.

Two days a week. One course. I never lived on campus (having started this endeavor with a wife, that would have been awkward), so the most social interaction I had with my friends on campus was in class and, of course, the various times we gathered to study.

I got a part time job to cover the cost of that last course, and quickly found myself disliking the entire situation. There were my final moments in college? Barely seeing any of the classmates and faculty that have become friends? Spending my evenings in a quiet, depressing button-down under a fluorescent light?

I spent more time alone this spring than I had any other semester since I got here. I attended my graduation ceremony yesterday. It was a satisfying experience that, perhaps, may have been more so had it been attended by more than just those who were graduating.

I didn't start college right out of high school. I spent years in dead end employment, feeling slowly crushed by the supposed reality that I could never do better than that. When I started college, I was overwhelmed. I had no idea what I was doing.

I'm not the same person I was when I started this.

The crazed dreamer

It's never when I go to sleep the first time, but rather the second when I remember my dreams. As a boy, my dreams were abstract, wild, jumbled almost. Now there's just an oddness to them.

I was studying for an upcoming test (in statistics tomorrow, actually) in what seemed like a large house. Then there was piano music playing in a nearby room. The kind performed either by someone with three hands, or someone with insane skills. (I didn't recognize it at the time, but they were playing U.N. Owen Was Her) When the music stopped, out came one of my former professors in little more than a nightgown, looking like she had just woken up and decided to teach that piano why it existed.

...who then promptly wondered why I was in her house, but let me stay in the guest room because it was too cold out to open the door.

Then we were watching YouTube videos. Olan Rogers showed me his latest video, which was him and another guy running a race, but the track was filled with gym equipment, mostly stair steppers, and they had to step through them. Then he decides to cheat by jacking a car. So he runs to this car, which is being driven by a sparkly albino (sparkly white hair, skin, and sparkly eyes), shoves her over, and steals the car.

Turns out his video was sponsored by the car company, which is why it got so much attention.

Of course in this dream, the albino and I start talking. We're hanging out, acting like best friends, and then she says the makeup is bugging her. So she wipes some of it off, rinses part of her hair (all in about 1 second, it's a dream people), and I am shocked, SHOCKED, to discover that she's not actually an albino. She was a red haired girl from my statistics course, and she wanted help studying for the test tomorrow.

New Years Revolutions

Every January I hear the same thing. People resolving to change something. Losing weight / getting in shape is almost a cliche. Get a job, get out of debt, spend more time with family, blah blah blah. These are all good things, yes. But when I look at them, I think they're not enough. I see those things as square one. You should have a job, you shouldn't let yourself go, you should spend more time with family. There is no bottom, people, you can always get worse. Saying that you need to get to zero is a good start.

But it's not enough.

You want to make a new years resolution? Stop making new years resolutions. Worked for me.