Spring Break'd

Man, it's quiet in here. 

It's Spring Break at Oklahoma State. I'm sitting in the common room, staring at the wall where the entertainment center used to be, removed in secret by maintenance under mysterious circumstances. 

I'm told the stain on the wall is from a spilled scented candle, but considering the odor is usually a mixture of popcorn and ass, I remain suspicious. Also, look at my foot. 

It's sunny outside, crusing up to a forecasted high in the low 80s before an end-of-week front will knock temps back down in to the 50s, and trips to FedEx Office for some printing and shipping has fulfilled my "doing things" quota for the day. 

As much as I loce my Surface, the type cover I got for Christmas is driving me insane. Some bug in the drivers that Microsoft refuses to fix still causes the thing to lock up coming out of sleep mode, forcing me to do a hard reboot. On top of that, the touchpad went out. I'm just glad I kept the old one while the new one is being mailed off for replacement...even if typing on it is like typing essays on a phone keypad. 

Kitty does not approve. 

Between procrastinating on my math homework, putting in SO many hours on Stardew Valley, and pondering the ethics of "Veganaise," I have to say...the most exciting thing going on here is finding Golden Crisp being marketed as a late night snack. 

You laugh, but it's true. 

Here's looking forward to an exciting and busy second half of the semester. 

See ya, Seattle

So, when I last wrote for this blog, I wrote about the weird status quo I found myself in trying to observe a holiday while not subscribing to religious dogma that many people associated it with, and how it was my right. Almost immediately, folks who will go unnamed here commented, worrying that I might offend someone.

Way to miss the point.

My own right to be offended at a lack of respect for my beliefs (or lack thereof) notwithstanding, I pushed them out of my mind and had a rather pleasant holiday. I was reminded of it, however, as I let YouTube be my personal jukebox, and a song came on titled "The Most Offensive Song Ever."

Yes, it is a South Park song.

While the song itself may have been offensive back when it was released around the turn of the millenium, the subject matter reminded me of my last post. Granted, for those who have never heard the song, it's about just how far the Virgin Mary can stretch the biblical definition of "Virgin" to get by, so...well...consider yourself warned, but it did get me thinking about how being offended is considered a national pasttime these days.

That is just one of many things rattling around in my brain as I sit in the Wolfgang Puck's grill in Sea-Tac's Terminal C, waiting for my breakfast and wondering how exactly I'm going to kill the next three hours. I could sleep, heaven knows I never sleep well the night before I travel, but I doubt that will happen.

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Oh yeah, Merry Holidaysmas and Happy New Year etc.

I could sit and write a blog post and work on my web site. If you're reading this, you know how well that's going (though I have to say, compared to my old type cover, the Surface 4 type cover with its spaced keys has been a godsend.)

I could think about my cat.

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Sage is about as much of a morning creature as I am.

To be honest, I'm just glad to be getting back to Stillwater, back to school and to classes and to work and to my little piece of shit car and oh man these garlic potato wedges are good.

Sorry, got a little off track.

My visit home this Christmas felt a little weird, because while I am a resident of Washington, complete with license plate and driver's license and no state income tax, after being back in Oklahoma for four months it didn't quite -feel- like home.

I was back in my room, doing absolutely nothing at all (and loving every minute of it,) getting mad at the cat when she insisted on being a cushion for my feet while I was going down the stairs, yet it all kind of felt off. It felt the way it did when I would visit family in Seattle as a tourist, destined to turn around and fly home.

Yet, Stillwater doesn't feel like home. I'm not even on the plane yet, and already I'm thinking about how in four months, I have to empty out the broom closet I call a dorm suite and figure out what I'm gonna do with all my stuff if I plan on leaving my car in Oklahoma and flying back instead of spending two grand and six days round trip to drive. I'm thinking about going back to work tomorrow, and how much I'm dreading my first Statistics class next week, but I don't have that feeling of "I'm going home."

One of my favorite movies as a kid said "Home is where your rump rests." I guess my rump is a restless hobo.