I would not eat it on a plane

I have to admit that I have been rather lax in the field of making note of my rambling, quasi coherent thoughts for the past couple of weeks. It could be because of the newfound academia that college is presenting to me. But it’s probably because I’m on campus eating all of the time.

Let me tell you about college, my brethren: there is food everywhere. I’m not talking about a dining hall here and a fast food joint there; there is literally some way to get food at every point on campus. Yesterday, I almost got in line for free Krishna Lunch outside of Library West. But then I smelled it. And looked at it. No thanks.

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The Culmination of my Being

This is the day that we have waited for with bated breath since the last second of the clock ticked away last February. This is the day that will lead to an epic six months that will birth legends and tales. This is the day that brings peace around the world, and yet still divides us.

This is the day that it all begins.

The Immaculate Reception. The Miracle at the Meadowlands. The Catch. This day led to them all, and just as they are forever immortalized in history, more events like these will sprout from this, the holiest of days.

The Monsters of the Midway. The Purple People Eaters. The Orange Crush. They all evolved as bastard offspring of this day, fathered by fury and nurtured by will.

Broadway Joe. Crazy Legs. Boomer. They all drove down the field, spurred on by the idea that one day in history can make immortals out of men.

Today is the first day of football.

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The Obligatory College Post

I’m beginning to go through the deep psychological trauma of leaving home. Though subtle, thoughts of what I’m going to do with my life (read: without my parents around me every day) creep into my head. This happens especially at night. I’m pretty sure that it is this doubt of the future, in association with my obscenely whacked-out sleep schedule that keeps me awake here at 3:00 A.M.

But today, I did one of the hardest things I’ve ever done: I vacuumed my room. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that the fact that I never before vacuumed my room is disgusting. And it is. But let’s focus here, people.

This Sunday, I move away from home. And while it may only be two hours up the Interstate and I’ll be stopping in fairly often for visits, it’s still sad that I’ve packed up everything in my room except for my bed. As I vacuumed today, I looked at my room. It represented the last 18 years of my life. And what has it become? A cube with holes in the walls where pictures hung and a single, lonely bed in the corner.

Is that it? Is that all my childhood has become? A dusty old room with holes where the memories used to be?

Sure, they tell you that college will be the best years of my life. And I believe them. But I think that it’s the transition that gets us; we are trapped in the awkward purgatory between the long-passed memories of childhood and the not-yet-realized experiences of what is to come.

Perhaps, though, once I find whatever lies ahead on the road of life, I can finally sleep.

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Dear Dave Thomas…

So, in my great many experiences eating hamburgers, I have not allowed for much tomfoolery in their preparation. Plain. Cheese, bread, and meat. Maybe ketchup, mustard, or mayonnaise will make a guest appearance. But other than that, I generally don’t do veggies.

But every now and then, I will see a burger all dolled up for its eventual demise in gastrointestinal juices and enzymes and I wonder: what’s with those raw onions?

The nature of a raw onion is to exist in a ring shape. Hence, we have such fried wonders as onion rings. But wouldn’t it make more sense to, you know, chop up the raw onion prior to its placement on my delicious slab of ground chuck? That way, it doesn’t just garnish the perimeter of my dinner.

Just a thought.

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