The Aquinas Protocol

And thus we have marked the centipost of this illustrious and widely acclaimed journal. What will I do to celebrate and justly honor such a bodacious accomplishment? I will, with mirth and great jubilance (of course), recount to you just how much my life sucks balls.

What do I do for a day? Assuming my day begins at the toll of midnight, just as all days have started since time immemorial (well, at least since they had clocks lol) then my day occurs in the following manner. As the bell tolls, I am still finishing my homework, most likely due the following day. As 2 o'clock rolls around the assignment is finished, I turn it in and I begin to unwind. Let's say this happens for an hour and then I leave the new floorpile. Scratch that, reverse it. I sleep for a few hours, namely five, and then I awake for animation class. However, first I may shower and eat a bowl of cereal. After an hour of that I go back to sleep, completely forgetting to go the animation class for which I awoke! What droll irony! Around one o'clock I awaken once again to the sound of that goddamn fucking alarm clock fucking beeping noise and I want to freakin' shoot it in the fucking eye. But, alas! It has no eye for shooting! So instead I get up and eat some type of food for lunch. Like, you know, frozen pizza or some shit. Here, I may also take a shower because showering is one of the few joys I have left in life. Then it's off to this weird thing where I throw a ball down a lane and hit pins. Just kidding! Actually, I go bowling about this time. After bowling (or sometimes it's a meeting about privacy and security on the internet), I go to a class where I am privy to hear grand tales about magicians turning their cars into their driveways or very comfortable chairs. Then I think about that alarm clock and how I am sorry I wanted to kill it. Following this wild thought, I return to my abode and relax for an hour or two before I cook myself dinner. After I cook dinner, I eat it! "What does this wonderful gentlemen of good taste and stature cook and eat for his dinner?" you might ask! The answers lie ahead, gravid with their gentle sumptuosities. Imagine, if you will, scrumptious mountains of rice drenched in cheeses beyond thought alongside grilled fowl seasoned in tomtatos, basils, peppers, and savory lemon juices. Or, on a better night, roasted venison tickled with marinades of onions and peppers, garlics and gravies paired with roasted, toasted, mashed and smashed potatoes infused with garlics, butters, and more. And with each dish, a wonderful helping of even more garlic. Because I have gotta stay healthy somehow :) . After dinner and a wash of the plates, my good comrade Dave and I head to the links. Then I calculate my age, because by this time of day I have forgotten what it is! After all of this, it is time to sit down and begin my daily homework. The clock says seven and my mind says heaven. Because I just love doing homework. And then I do it until 2 o'clock the next day, but oh! I have overstepped my day by two hours so rewind your mind and we will end as the clock strikes midnight once again.

And with slight variation you have just spent a day with the great, the late, Adam Fiske. Not because I am dead, but because I am so late to class right now my professor's gonna kill me. Shit. Until next time, keep remembering that I am NOT an alien and send me attractive, intelligent women who have great personalities in the mail. Yes that's right, their personalities MUST be in the mail.

RYANCHRISTMAS.EXE

I am hip. I got you all christmas presents. If I forgot you, suck it, Christmas is for people from Texas.

Tim Connor
Ryan Kennedy
Dave Marsh
Josh Sawyer
Brian Robson
Becky Anderson
Ryan Faillace
Chris Giant San Francisco (and the rest of the Populaticons)
Justin LaRoche
John Forbes
Brendan

But seriously, I decided to get internet presents for people I know in real life and real life presents for people I only know over the internet. So all you internet people: the package is in the mail. Also, if you are a real-life person and I didn't include you, be sure to make a big to-do about it. I won't do anything, but you can at least watch all those stupid videos up there.

Accolades to All

Congratulations from the deepest corners of my hearts. You've all done very well to land such an honor as the person of the year. I am truly and utterly blown away by the dedication and care you have demonstrated in your painstakingly original and bold work. Have you changed the world? I believe you have, and I couldn't be more proud of you. And don't be so humble! Be proud of yourself, give yourself a standing ovation, shout to the heavens the name of this angel, this wonderful animal, this destroyer of worlds! You are Harry Fucking Potter!

But in retrospect, maybe I should have done more. Doesn't your victory merely showcase my inability to rise above you all? You all beat me, destroyed me, took my efforts, my goals and shat on them and then rubbed the putrid things in my face. My face! O, what abjection, what sorrowful pity! This is not only lowest hour, but my coldest, darkest, most terrifyingly hopeless hour. I fucking hate you all.

But enough of my squalid wallowing. It is a time for celebration, for I have recently become the smartest man on the face of this round globe we call mother planet Earth. Following my smartening I spiraled into an unbridled rage wherein I begat several smaller versions of myself. Together we will create a small government with such brilliant ideas and simple means for world-wide peace the world will become united under our cotton fist. Then we as a planet will be able to focus on other things like exploring the universe and also our feelings. Please remember this when you are voting in the next election. Spread the word and stay healthy.

Yours truly,
Scrumptious

The Yggdrasil

What a terrible job it has. Imagine the difficulties of holding together not one, not two, but three worlds! I can hardly keep myself together these days. Talk about responsibility! O but I do what I can. Currently, I sit in my room in my house at home in Rhode Island. I type and listen to music. Although not usually at the same time, at least when what I type needs to have any merit. Take this instance. Take it and admire it and realize there is no music playing as I type this entry. I would tend to focus too much on the lyrics and verily they would creep into my words. And we wouldn't want a plagiarist on our collective conscience. Fuck you, I'm getting IN our collective conscience!

As of late, I have been schooled. Thrice-wise this summer and fall, though it only may feel like twice. Sometimes projects sit on the backburner of my mind until the final moments and then I just die a little inside, close the doors, open the windows, pull up a chair, and type-type-type until I am done. Sadly, this leads to nothing less than one-hundred percent A+ quality work. Except when they grade you every third of the way. I only do work in the last third. I think you can see where I am going with this so I'll stop now before I start to bore holes through your eyes.

Sometimes, in my adventures (and, dear reader, they are under the northern lights), sometimes I stumble across something that turns my soul into dust and my metal into rust. If you catch my meaning you'll see I'm talking about they sweet indie-folk elements of the Decemberists. I can't express how much their newest album "The Crane Wife" is brilliant. You would wonder how a guy like me would even like a girl like her. It is simple chemistry, really. Take two people, sit them in a room for two hours, make them each two lunches, give them each two albums to choose from, and they will clearly pick The Crane Wife. Why? I'll tell you. Because both of these people are me. I just blew my load on your mind.

When I settle down in my late twenties to early thirties I will have a wife, a house, and a strong urge to quit my job and tell the world amazing stories. Once I realize that is a strategy that will get me nowhere in life, I will keep my job, make massive amounts of money, and then quit my job to tell all the world amazing stories while I live in my amazing house with my amazing wife. Later I will become even richer.

So, now that you know of my life's work and plans and my planned life, I will bid you as honorable a farewell as I can and leave you to talk about me at your tea parties and family outings. sofuckoff

Look Around You

I always tell myself I am going to start updating this thing more often. Maybe it's because I think that if I do that people will start reading it again, and all I really am looking for in life is a little approval from my peers. I just want to be liked. However, that's not the case and I probably won't start updating this more often. I never have any time to do anything anymore on account of school and learning how to program robots to act like humans and then fool humans into thinking they're robots except they're actually humans but only when talking through a robot, as it were. I know what you're thinking. Robots are retarded. That's true. It's not even some silly stereotype, it's actually 100% candyass true. But I digress.

On the topic of digression, I tend to digress more often than one should. Oh sure, at first it seems nothing more than a harmless little side effect of said speech, but speech isn't really all that said, and in fact I never even mentioned speech before now so how did it become said in the first place? C'mon people, you've got too keep up with me here. I am on the verge of a breakthrough. Something big, something huge, something probably too grand for the whole world to know. But for now it's just you, oh loyal readers of mine blog, just you that knows my ultimate proposal, my ultimate dream, my ultimate sacrifice. This is my final sacrifice, my last goodbye to luxury, my requiem. This is my time.

Time runs in cycles. Even better, it drowns in these cycles, in these circles. Circles of uniform infiniteness unfolding into themselves, unto themselves, out of nothing into nowhere. Time is death and death is the antithesis of time as far as the mind can see. Time is the antithesis of life. Time's up. Playtime's over. Nice car, think I'll take it. I am so high right now.

So, losers, how have you all been? I haven't heard from you in a while. Why don't you leave a comment on myspace? Don't really I don't have a myspace. I only have a state space. Sometimes I spend hours at night searching it. State space searches are a great way to kill time when you're bored or putting off homework that's due in a few minutes. Sometimes I even do a breadth-first search if I am feeling really really bored. But that is hardly ever, considering the manners of crazy shit that are usually going down in this freakin' apartment. Sometimes I just have to shut my door, shut my mouth, open my eyes, put on The Cure and cry silently into the night, into the bleak darkness that is my mind, my heart, my soul, my pillow. I am so lonely right now.

Call me and we'll talk. Also tell other people to call me. Spread the word and I'll be famous in minutes, or spictrins. Four thousand million billispictrins.