The Domain of Steven Pinnacle of Paperless Perfection


Third time’s a charm

Going on the third and final College Trip this week. Leaving early Friday morning, coming back late Saturday night. During this shorter trip, we'll be visiting upstate colleges (SUNYs and Cornell stick out in my mind). Nothing grand, but it's not like I had a shot at going to those Ivies anyway. Regardless, it'll be a fun trip, hopefully with a variant of McGuire.

The main problem I see is the hotel accomodations. There are four people in the room, and two beds. The guys I've roomed with seem to have this natural instinct to set up a one-bed-one-person rule. I don't have any problem with sharing a bed, especially if it would otherwise mean me sleeping on the floor, but it's awfully awkward to ask someone, "Hey, would you mind if I slept with you?" Come on.

Last time it wasn't as bad. Three people over two days meant that while someone would get a bed both times, someone would sleep in a bed at least one out of the two nights. If this trip were two nights, it wouldn't be as bad, because everybody would sleep in a bed once, easy as that. But when there are two short straws to be distributed among four people, there's going to be some conflict. I assume we're going to whip out the TI-83s again to roll some dice and find out who's getting the bed, but I'll see if I can play on people's fear of my genitals to guarantee a bed for myself.

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More self-imposed rule breaking? Blasphemy!

SarcasticSteven (1:05:13 PM): if you took the last three days and isolated them, you'd think i had a social life
SarcasticSteven (1:05:20 PM): it's blowing my mind

And by three days, I meant Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. That shows you how long I've been meaning to post, but kept back because of the deadly duo of work and procrastination. It was a barrage of social activities during the three-day weekend that just passed, and it was obscenely fun. Obscenely tiring too, but it's not like I normally get the chance to do much, so I was happy. Thursday night was spent at Junior Comedy Night, where for a relatively nominal fee we would get two drinks and a two-hour show by a number of stand-up comedians. Friday afternoon was spent at her place, and Friday night was spent at a friend's party. Saturday night was spent at a friend's sweet sixteen in a restaurant/party place.


Yes, just a misspelling…

So that's what it feels like to truly worry. To feel as if the whole world is full of dangers, of evil people lurking in the shadows. To put your complete trust in that person, leaving not a drop for anyone else. To want to let go, but find yourself gripping even tighter. To fear that the person may never come back the same. To dread just sitting there while the person could be in danger. And to be paralyzed when it comes to allaying those fears, because you don't want to seem possessive and controlling.

So that's what it's like to be in love.

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“They know, and you should too, otherwise one day she’s going to bring it up and you’re going to be sleeping on the couch.”

Male bus drivers know everything. It's scary.

American Studies has always been a mixed bag. On one hand, the teachers give out homework by the buttload, and when you're being ass-fed for two terms, your large intestine and anus stretch to the point where a buttload is a lot. Projects are almost always late-night affairs, the tests are hard, and you're not guaranteed a great grade.

Yet there's plenty to balance, if not overcome, those failings. Class discussion, which is sometimes just a regurgitation of information, is always interesting and often spruced up with outside material. Projects, while tiring, are often fun to do because of their uniqueness. One project involved us assuming the roles of historical figures and creating skits with them, and another project involved us creating a children's book that was amusing yet informative with regards to the Lower or Upper East Side of Manhattan. We've gone on field trips, which is something I can't claim for any other class in my time at Stuyvesant. And the teachers are cool, if rather strict. They make jokes during class, and create a close-knit attitude in class that lets them pick on people when the time arises.

I had accidentally misspelled my name on a paper I wrote, so that I was Sven Li. I didn't realize it until the teacher walked up to me as I was waiting for gym and said, "Hello Sven!" I was confused, and looked around for a second to make sure there wasn't a Sven standing behind me, when she clarified, "Sven. That's how you spelled your name on your paper. It's nice to see that you're Swedish." I make a point to match whatever's thrown at me, so I responded, "Yes, I've decided to come out of the closet and fully embrace my Swedish heritage." It became a running joke that was repeatedly told to both American Studies classes, so that I was no longer Steven. I was Sven, Mr. Swedish.

Little things like that, absent from most other classes, is why I actually participate during American Studies classes. Because they're the first English and Social Studies classes to engage me in a long time, and possibly the only one to engage me at all in my time at Stuyvesant.

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I oughta have a drum and pink fur

The first week back is over. It had its ups and downs, the ups being time with her and finding out that my little brother got into baby CTY, and the downs being the difficult American Studies and AP Compsci tests. I could use another vacation.

Napkin hat

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Time to use some of those minutes

Interesting. Anger keeps me awake. I might have hit the mother of all mind discipline techniques. We'll see how it holds up over time (there'll be plenty of instances to test it, I guarantee you).

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