I don't know if you have ever let someone else's pet die, but let me tell you, it is a terrible feeling.  After finding out it had happened, it felt like I was a rookie pilot on the Death Star, and I had accidentally leaned on the main button and blew up a planet.

My duty was simply to spray the cage once a day so it would stay moist.  Sound simple enough?  Ah, but then you profoundly underestimate the ability of my mind to quickly and indelibly misplace extremely important information. 

For example, just yesterday I was leaving the house, but then I ran back in to see if the back door was locked.  It was indeed locked, but while glancing at it I noticed how filthy it was as well.  So I decided to clean it immediately, which meant I opened it so I could clean both sides of the glass.  I then left, forgetting to lock it again, and thus in total had gone to check if it was locked, which it was, and then unlocked it, and left with it unlocked.  This is the sort of mind we are dealing with here. 

My friend David came over late in the week and was looking around upstairs, asking, 'Is this Alec's room?'  It had been four days since I had sprayed the frogs.  I began answering 'Ye-' but all in one moment reality crashed down on me like someone opening the blinds to reveal the sunrise in the morning.  I ran upstairs and, sure enough, the frogs were dry and shriveled statues, dead as ducks.  David assured me, 'No, no, they're not dead!' and then poked one with a stick, which made its stiff, dead cadaver move all at once, grossly confirming the extent of its deadness.

For two days I writhed in fear and mental agony.  My bad memory has certainly put a price tag on life, from forgetting about parking meters to library videos to school fees, but never had something like this happened.  I sat and wandered around in a dazed stupor, my mind in a quiet panic, for two days, wondering what sort of reaction there would be when they came back from vacation and found out that I had killed their frogs.  Perhaps the child loved these frogs more than anything, or they were rare frogs from Asia, or they were part of a yearlong school project which he could not fail, or he had got them for Christmas.

Fortunately, I found out yesterday, people do not really care about frogs all that much.  In fact, I'm pretty sure coming home to find all the cereal gone may have elicited a more emotional reaction than hearing that the frogs died.  I am now a free man.

'Although,' Brian said facetiously to me as I was about to drive away, 'if it had been the dogs, that would have been a different story.' 

If at the present moment I should suddenly find myself standing at a street corner, and a mirthful neighborly fellow waltzed up beside me and asked in a buoyant tone, "Why hello sir, how do you do?" I am sure, as sure as I am that there was a gunman on the grassy knoll, that I would slowly turn my head to him, and gaze at him eternally with an infinitely confused look, completely clueless as to the answer.  Quite basically, I am experiencing a complete paralysis of emotion.  Based on the last two weeks of events, should I be happy, or should I be sad?  I will lay the evidence before you, and let you decide.

First, good things that have happened:

1. Road tripped to Kansas City to visit a dear friend who I stayed with for a few days, and had lots of fun with her family. 
2. While in Kansas City, we met with londonsgirl, which was very fun (at a Starbucks as well, appropriately enough).  
3. Had the largest burrito of my life from Chipotle while in Kansas City, probably weighing about the weight of the average domestic cat.  It was the only thing I ate all day, and I wasn't hungry again. 
4. Got to a lucrative house-sitting job for Spring Break.  The house has comfy couches, a basement with a large screen TV, a sauna, and a billiard table.
5. Started and finished Crime and Punishment, surely one of the greatest novels ever.  It gripped me emotionally all the way to the end, and was simply one fantastic plot filled with brilliant characters from start to finish.
6. Watched Planet Earth on the aforementioned large screen TV in a pitch black basement with some friends.
7. Met with an old friend and talked about life, and watched an amazing movie also in the basement called Sophie Scholl.

Now the bad:

1. Got a fever the night before a very important breakfast, thus giving me delusions all night in my dream that  if my friends organized ourselves in the right way on my school campus, I would be cured when I woke up.  One of my friends who was helping me do this in the dream called me in the middle of the night, which was very confusing since I was already with him.
2.  Lost hearing in my right ear for 10 days, and in my left for a few days, including for the entirety of the trip to Kansas City.
3. I also lost my voice for the trip (I tend to misplace the most important things, it seems), and had a wretched cough the whole time.
4. Woke up with a bloody nose one day in Kansas City, which would not stop, and I ended up losing about 15 minutes worth of blood.
5. While house-sitting, my car was broken into, and $200 worth of goods were stolen.
6. One dog I have to take care of has crapped large puddles of brown liquid in the house eleven times, including six on the dining room carpet in a seemingly systematic way around the dining room table.
7. I forgot about spraying the frog cage with water every day, and both the frogs are now dead.  Frozen stiff in their places.  I repeat: The frogs are dead. 

You see the dilemma.  There are a million more little instances which could work as evidence for both sides, but these are the salient facts of the case.  You be the jury: should I be happy with the last two weeks of my life? 

Traveler's along life's way, strangers on the planet, lovers from afar . . . welcome.

It is nice to drive to classical music, and for the cars and lights to all flow in harmony with the music.  But do not listen to Beethoven unless you are planning on crashing.

Recently I saw a statue of Ben Franklin sitting on a bench.  What a nice sculptor . . . statues are usually forced to stand all day long for people to look at.  Another injustice rectified.

The interesting thing about life is it keeps rolling through all the bloopers.  A serious moment in life may be interrupted by the most untimely error.  "Darling, love, wonder of my life . . . will you carry me? . . . what, what did I say? I'm sorry, marry, I meant marry." 

My opinion on the idea of '55%' is that if it's enough to become president, it's enough to pass a math class. 

So tell me . . . if you could hijack a semi-truck carrying a specific item or one for a specific company, which would you hijack?

Marcus leaned in and folded his hands authoritatively on the table as he began to pronounce, "You know Jason, you really need to clean up your act.  Like, really.  You sleep in late, you don't get ready for anything, you never wash your clothes.  You don't study, you don't have a job, and all you eat is easy mac four times a day.  You really need to figure things out."
"Wow," Jason said, putting down his magazine, "could you get a little harsher?"
"I'm just sayin'," Marcus responded casually.
"Oh, ok," Jason said rolling his eyes, "you're just saying.  So you don't actually mean anything you just said?  In fact, you weren't even thinking it.  You just so happened to say those exact words and in that exact order, but you don't actually agree with what those words mean when said in that order.  It was just a random spew of words from nowhere that you were—in fact—just sayin'." 
"Yes," Marcus agreed.
Jason stared at Marcus with narrowed eyes for a moment before he spoke.  "Oh. Well, alright," Jason strung his words out, quietly confused, "As long as you say so . . .  that's kind of weird, but I guess we all have our quirks." 
"You calling me QUIRKY?" Marcus began in an offended tone.
"Oh," Jason quickly shot back, "I was just sayin'."

You know what I want to experience?  Well here, let me tell you. 

When a girl is young, perhaps while in high school, it is a compliment to tell her she looks old for her age.  If such a comment is made about a girl, she will feel happy because it is a good thing to look older. 

However, when a girl is older, perhaps getting into her late twenties, it is the opposite; now it is a compliment to tell her that she looks young.  The whole structure is turned upside down.

This means that there must a moment, a very precise instant in time, in which a girl is the exact right age.  That is what I want to witness.  Talking to a girl in conversation, it may so happen that the moment passes by where she achieves the pinnacle of beauty in her life. 

I wonder what happens.  Perhaps it is like when The One Ring is cut off of Sauron's finger and a wave of energy knocks all the people down in the vicinity.  Or maybe she glows for an instant.  Or maybe, just maybe, if it happens at the right time of day, and the sun is at the right angle, a million colors will illuminate the sky with a majestic and overwhelming display which lasts for only a few brief moments. 

It must be something special, but who knows—and that is why I want to experience it myself.

The world is a warehouse of molds,

each which we spend some time around,

each slightly shaping our minds.

We must be careful how we shape them.

This we discover when we meet someone beautiful.

How can an idea be so beautiful? And have a name as well? 

And talk to me? And love me?

Such a wonderful mystery to be caught up into.

And our ideas are very fragile things, in a large world

with many combinations of events that could shatter any of them.

We must be careful. 

But ought we?

For the best idea would be the one which never shattered,

no matter how many different worlds you put it through.

All the combinations, and this idea was the best.

A person is a wonderful melody, a song which starts every time they talk.

To be around them, to see them, to think of what they are. 

You've been places, thought things there, said some of them, and continued on.

All along, always thinking and reacting, hoping to become something worthwhile.

It took your whole past to become who you are in the present,

but now you're here with me, and I think you are beautiful.

Since I had my wisdom teeth out and I was going to bed early, my twelve yeard old brother Paul told me a bedtime story the other night. He had to use Bill the Barber, a lollipop, and a bowling alley in his story . . .

Paul:  Now Bill the Barber was giving a haircut to a customer.  But the customer said, 'You know what letter I don't like? B. I hate the letter B.'  The customer's name was Chris.  So Chris said, 'The letter B is terrible.'  Well that was enough.  Bill the Barber said, 'That's it! Because of that, you don't get a lollipop!'  Because Bill the Barber always gave his customers a lollipop when he was done, but not Chris, because Chris didn't like the letter B.   

Well Chris was very upset about that.  So he said, 'I'm going to sue you!'  So they went to court.  And the judge didn't know what to do . . . because they both had such good arguments!  On the one hand, Chris didn't like the letter B, but on the other hand, Bill the Barber didn't give Chris a lollipop.  Who was right?!  So to decide who was right, the judge said they would go bowling to decide the court's win.

The whole town was excited for the bowling event.  Everyone would be watching it on TV.  It was so exciting!  They trained for a whole month, and then finally it came time.  Everyone was there!  

Bill the Barber went first.  He got his bowling ball, and stepped up, pulled his arm back . . . and the ball went into the crowd!  You know how when you put your arm back . . . ? Yeah.  That's what happened.  So he went back and got the next ball.  And this time he went up, let it go, and got a spare!  The crowd went wild!

Philip: Except the guy who got hit with the first bowling ball.

Paul: Yeah, except him.  (LAUGHS)  Now it was Chris's turn.  Chris got his ball, got ready, and threw the ball so hard that it went through the wall!  It didn't even hit the pins!  It made a hole in the wall.  It went through the wall, into the town . . . and even into a barber shop.  So Chris lost the bowling match.  Bill the Barber had won.

So Bill the Barber went back to his store.  But when he went back to his store, there was a huge hole in his window . . . in the exact shape of a bolwing ball! 

Philip: And was the ball in the chair?

Paul: Yeah!  It was in the chair.  So Bill the Barber . . . well he was furious.  So he went back to court and sued Chris.  And they both had good arguments AGAIN.  So the judge said, 'Ok, to settle this, the one who eats the most lollipops wins.'  So they had a lollipop eating contest.

Well Chris LOVED lollipops.  In fact, he won 50 to 0!  Because Bill the Barber didn't even like lollipops.  So Chris won the court case.

And then it was life as normal.  That's the end of the story.