I saw the news today, oh boy.

The height of arrogance is the daily blog. This is mostly the mental mechanism I adhere to to rationalize my infrequent entries, make no mistake. But I do have an inchoate, feeble-voiced, yet genuine desire to minimize "today I got the best latte at my favorite little coffee shop and read Kerouac there lol" journalistic behavior. So let me treat you to the kind of dredge you'd be stuck at the bottom with if I didn't treat my writing as a great big rant orifice:

February 6, 2009

05:40 I end February 5, 2009 under the assumption of a non-binding commitment to work out with Lt. Chin et al at 09:00. I won't be binded, I tell myself- it's only a couple of hours away. Tomorrow, today I sleep in.
07:50 Eyes open. I'm tired, I tell myself. Let me sleep in.
08:00 I text Lt. Chin. I'll make it in, I say. He says, bring swim trunks and towel.
08:12 It hits me, albeit belatedly, that this kind of language is less cryptic than my not-as-yet completely functional faculties originally construe. Actually, it pretty openly implies...swimming. Shit.
08:20 I need to get moving to make it to the OSO. I decide against wearing my new running shorts with their nifty built in, ahem, 'compression brief' and opt for my too-loose boardshorts. (Take note of this, dear reader, and its effect on underwear related choices.)

So let's take a step back. Checklists are good, and a good checklist would have featured these key pieces of preparation:
1. Backpack.
2. Socks.
3. Undershirt.
4. Underwear.
5. Ability to swim underwater.
6. PT gear that isn't for swimming.
7. Phone.
8. Keys.
9. Wallet.
10. Ipod.

And had I used the checklist test, I'd have scored a pretty respectable 5/10. But note that the ones I missed (2-6) are more consequential than we give them credit for.

08:50-12:00 (compressed) I walk to the USMC OSO, utilizing my new umbrella. I reflect on the threat a dad of one of my high school friends wielded at his son: if you use an umbrella, I'm going to make you wear a dress. I reflect that said father probably never ruined a $130 Microeconomics book by walking around in the rain (but I'm the wiser for it, eh?). I get to the OSO. Captain Wheatcroft remains the most affable man in existence. Lt. Chin says something mean to me. A new aspirant looks at me and gives me bad vibes- I didn't call him about running together as promised because I don't run in the mornings anymore. He's upset? C'est la vie. Life is pain, young man. Get up and get on with is; nothing a good spit can't cure! We get into Lt. Montes' car and take off for the Coast Guard installation in Oakland. Lt. Chin calls me a fag. I deflect his fiery darts with consummate fluency and alternately open and latent wit. He pretends not to notice. We start the swimming workout, and it's pretty obvious I'm a poor swimmer. I pretend not to notice. We finish and change. Lt. Chin notes that I've gone commando, as I dawn my only layers: jeans and a sweater. I contemplate a gimme gay joke. Opt against it. I regret this. We drive back to Berkeley, city of light and learning. I lend Lt. Chin $6 to pick up his uniforms from dry cleaning. I contemplate a gimme joke about the Semitic background of UC Berkeley's only other two PLC Combined candidates...I can't decide whether to go with, "Too bad Rosenfield's not here, huh?" or, "Yeah, out of the PLC candidates, I probably have the best rate." I opt against both. I'm known for my tact, I remember. We get back to the OSO. I chew the fat. I go to Asian Ghetto and pick up some Mongolian beef, eventually placing it next to my Econ 100B study materials.
12:30 I eat my Chinese food and listen to "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry," almost pining for an unremembered (and manifestly unlived) downhome past.
13:00-16:00 I study for Tuesday's exam in 100B and rue the fact that I got the professor I did. Originally I thought he was pleasantly crass. Now I know he's just an asshole. An ineffectual asshole. And he has a belly that's so decadent, it could only be of Third World extraction where it might redeem its offensiveness by performing as an obtrusive indicator of material well-being. Kyle and I ponder whether his metal water bottle is really full of chocolate milk. Cesar studies with me and Kyle. Rosenfield says something mean to me on Facebook. I pretend not to notice.
16:00-18:00 Facebook. A long shower. I appreciate an unhurried toilette in the middle of the day, as it puts things in perspective. Some people posit that metaphysics is so well-developed in the West because we were the first to reach the level of wealth accumulation affording the devotion of time to philosophical pursuits. I don't deny this, but I think a long portion of the day devoted to self-grooming, even shoddy self-grooming, is the apparatus through which the framework actually functions. It's a reflective and calming experience.
18:00-20:00 I try to do the reading for my non-100B classes, but only get half of my target amount done. The lack of sleep is catching up, and my nose literally hits my reader several times.
21:00 I come home, Facebook, and write a blog instead of trying to read.

FINIS