Five Things You Probably Could Care Less About, in which I continue to make François feel bad for not tagging me originally

(I ran out of room for the title I wanted, so here it is again:

Five Things You Probably Could Care Less About, in which I continue to make François feel bad for not tagging me originally even though only he seems bothered by it, although now it occurs to me is that if people read my blog, they'd notice I haven't done this survey)


1. I couldn't tie my shoes until I was six: That damn thing with the rabbit into the hole? Tell it to Castro, Paco, because I have no idea what you're fucking talking about. I've had all sorts of people tie my shoes, even one friend that would fake doing something else (like picking something up) in order to tie my shoe for me. It was pathetic. My parents didn't realized I couldn't do it until I started playing soccer and the coach (I think) told my parents. Perhaps my brother knows more about this than I do.

2. I used to cry myself to sleep sometimes while I was President of the Demosthenian Literary Society at UGA. Meetings were so rough on me that I just had to go home and let it out.

3. My wife and a lot of my friends never knew me with a full head of hair. It used to have a beautiful head.

4. I still carry a slip of paper with a note by my good friend David Smith. During the Demosthenian days, we were doing a competition called Oration/Declamation, during which people would either read something they had written or by someone else. Often, these were speeches. One person decided he'd be Cap'n Patriot and read a list of dead solidiers from Iraq along with a poem about valor, etc. Well, it went on for quite a while (even in April of 2003) in the following format:

"John Smith, age 23, died when his pet tiger trained for combat mistook him for his evening snack."

After half an hour of this, David, seated next to me, pulled out his little Mead pad and wrote the following:

"David M. Smith, age 20, self-inflicted gun shot wound"

We laughed so hard a girl in front of us thought we were crying. It wasn't until 2 years later that I could tell the person speaking what had gone on. He seemed offended.

5. I'm actually a bit afraid of getting into grad school. We're already tight on money every month, so why make it worse on ourselves? I think this may be why I'm not as bothered by the anxiety this time around: getting rejected has its benefits for us. Sure, I may not ever get to do the things I want to do, but at least we'll be able to feed ourselves. I feel like I'll no longer be able to say, "Well, I'm a pretty educated guy..." anymore. I guess I'm not a "pretty educated guy" already, huh? So secretly, I'm very scared. I guess I still want to get into grad school, but I'm sweating it anymore because I know it's going to suck and we won't really be able to live decently anymore.

I tag: No one, since no one tagged me. HAH!