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| So, here it is again: my birthday. Maybe I should make this a
tradition, writing in xanga on my birthday. It's actually 4:46 AM right
now. I'm working right now. If you don't know, I am a security
assistant for the dorms at my school, which means I swipe people's
cards to get into the building and and stay awake all night. So, I'm
working right now, at 4:48AM on my birthday. I'm fine with that though.
It will give me an excuse to sleep in tomorrow, er... today. So, what
have I accomplished in the last year? Really, not much. Or, at least it
doesn't seem that way. Well, I am hopefully a little smarter from
college. I can salsa way better now. I like to think that my writing
has improved (not this writing, but real writing). I'm much more
knowledged in study habits. I've become less uptight with my money,
which may or may not be a good thing. I've made some more friends, lost
some old friends. I've switched my mode of thought from trying to enjoy
college, to trying to figure out what I'm going to do afterwards. I've
become a little more intimidated at the prospect of me being jobless
and poor in two years. I broke my leg area for the second time in my
life, on the same leg. That sucked. I finished writing a book that no
one liked. I got my website actually up and running the way I wanted
it. I'm starting to actually consider myself and adult... weird. I'm
twenty, officially not a teenager, officially a "twenty-something," not
quite an adult. What an awkward age I seem to be. It's like being the
"sophomore" of life. Alright, here goes one more year. I really hate
birthdays.
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"If you were to say to a physisist in 1899 that in 1999, a hundred years later, moving images would be transmitted into homes all over the world from satallites in the sky; that bombs of unimaginable power would threaten the species; that antibiotics would abolish infectious disease but that those diseases would fight back; that women would have the vote, and pills to control reproduction; that millions of people would take to the air every hour in aircraft capable of taking off and landing without human touch, that you could cross the Antlantic at two thousnad miles an hour; that human kind would travel to the moon, and then loose interst; that microscopes would be able to see individual atoms; that people would carry telephones weighing a few onces, and speak anywhere in the world without wires; or that most of the miracles depended on devices the size of a postage stamp, which utilized a new theory called quantum mechanics- if you said all this, the physicist would almost certainly pronounce you mad."
-Michael Crichton, Timeline | | |
| Happy Birthday to me! How very exciting. I hate birthdays, I really do. I don't hate other people's, just mine. Whoever invented the idea of celebrating annually the date of our births needs to not have done that. Actually, so far it hasn't been that bad. I've only had two... no... three people wish me a happy birthday so far. Yes, but there will be more.... many more. It's not only the people wishing me a happy birthday that bugs me, its also a complete interruption of my normal schedule. Birthdays only come once a year, so everyone feels that they have to make the day extra special. They have to go do something. They have to celebrate. You have to be doing something... happy the entire day, that is unless you are sick or something... I envy you Sarah, I really do. The problem is.... normally, on a day like today, where I have nothing to do, I would go to South Beach or something, probably by myself, just because its easier than having to deal with other people's schedule and stuff. Unfortunately, if I did that, people would be like, "Jacob, what did you do for your birthday?" and I would be like "I went to the beach." then they'd be like, "awesome! who went?" and I'd cautiously say.." I went by myself, it wasn't a big deal." Then they'd be all quiet or say, "awww," as if my birthday was a failure or something. Ugh, I hate birthdays. You know what else I hate about this "happy" day? I hate the fact that everyone is nice to you. I think I really need someone to come up to me, slap me in the face, and say, "Jacob, I hate you! Being around you gets me so annoyed, and you're a failure at life!" But no one would do that of course, because its my birthday. They would do that the day after. Ironic, how happiness makes me miserable, isn't it? | | |
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