In case you haven’t been online recently, I’ve changed my screen name to SarcasticSteven, a tribute to my self-created nickname from the CTY ’03 icebreaker. That’s when I learned the word ‘alliteration’. Though the two terms I avoided using, short and skinny, are coincidentally also alliterations…

Excalibur, *kicks into automatic mode* Stuyvesant’s premier role-playing club, is looking promising this year. We’ve got a good batch of new members, including sophmores who didn’t join last year, so there should be no repeats of last year’s lax attendence. Plus, Roleplaying Tips Weekly gave me the idea of using little Lego people as miniatures and using Lego bricks to form boundaries on the battle map they provide (it’s a grid with 1 inch squares that facilitates combat). I think the Lego people are cool as it is, so I’m psyched. Now all I have to do is learn how to DM without totally fucking up like last year and I’m set.

I never knew that our early American presidents were such dicks.

I’m turning out to be a good Team Handball goalie. Out of around ten shots, only one’s gotten by me. However, I would be a better goalie if I did not:

• Attribute blocked shots to luck and bad shooting. I usually point out that most blocked shots were sent close to me if not at me. There’s only been one blocked shot that I’ve really had to stretch out for, and that one was a slow one. I guess one could counterpoint that everything is relative, and we downplay our achievements so as not to be high and mighty. But it still feels like it’s purely luck.
• Immortalize my failures. No matter how often and consistently we do well, it only takes a single failure to throw everything out of balance. You don’t remember all the great jokes you’ve told your friends, but you certainly remember the joke that flopped, leaving you high and dry.

*ends Psychology 100.000001*

This school year has seen the effects of major budget cuts. People who deserved advanced classes were not given them, and a number of teachers were let go. Among the other changes was a policy that unless all your classes fulfilled a requirement of some sort, you could not have more than 9 out of 10 periods. This means that the term “elective” is practically nonexistent for many of us. I was one of the students who had 10 periods but did not have a reason to have those extra classes, and they decided that they’re going to lay down the law. Forget that it’s already six weeks in, forget that you won’t be able to bring new kids into the class, policy is policy! And so I’m going to have a random free period in the middle of my day, because they’re making me drop a course.

To spite them, I chose to drop Advanced CAD. The class barely over half capacity, nullifying any kind of teacher load lightening. Not to mention it’s conveniently right next to my lunch period. I can now spend an hour and 20 minutes on my lunch, which is obscene even for a slow-eater like me. Here’s to you, CADKEY.

The MG42s didn’t discriminate. Whether you had been on multiple tours of duty or were greener than the vomit that inhabited the floor of the landing boats, there was a good chance that you would die. Proximity to the ramp made little difference, as people in the front would get hit by more bullets while the people in the back would get hit with no exit wound. The ocean took its share of soldiers who jumped out of the boat while still being weighted down. Among the thousands killed, there were people who would have done incredible things had they survived. They could have developed cures, inspired the next generation, helped millions, or simply been a good father. But they never got to realize those futures because they were never given a chance.

And I can’t help but draw connections between that path and mine. No, in fact I feel worse, because they were never given a chance in the first place. They could justly say that an opportunity never arose, and therefore they were absolved of all responsibility. I can’t do that. I can’t say that I was never given a chance, and that I didn’t let it slip away. I can’t blame the MG42s. I can only blame myself.

But I can’t help but feel that I could have done so much more. I guess my sampling was too enjoyable for me to be satisfied once it was finished. On the bright side, at least it didn’t turn me away from the path.