Code name Nina

When I first started to write this little rant, it was with real names. “Why not use her real name”, I thought. “The girl in this lill’ story will never ever visit my site anyway. There are billions of pages on the Net. What is the chance that she will read this?”

It’s quite slim. But links to my site are popping up all over the place (jump of joy). It’s linked from my personal web page at my college. It’s on Yahoo!. It’s on AltaVista. It’s on Google. It’s on Northern Light. It’s on some obscure other search engines and personal home pages. It’s in my e.mail signature. It’s in my ICQ details. OK, I admit; the chance is still pretty damn slim. But’s it’s there. So I dropped her real name. Hate me.

Now let’s get started, already!

Ah… Screw it All…

End of summer vacation. Back to college. It’s going to be great fun. Or at least I hope it will. I have to take one of last years math courses again. I suck in math. I have always sucked in math and math-ish subjects. Physics for instance. God damn…

Physics is bad because you have to learn a lot of really strange formulas. Take these laws of Newton for instance. Great stuff. I’m glad that apple fell down from the tree hit him in the head. But I wish it had hit him a bit harder. Or rather much harder. The freackin’ three should have hit him in the head.

I’m not going to college to be able to calculate at what angle you have to throw a baseball at 200 feet to hit your sister in the head at a speed of 40.2 feet per second. And thank God for that. I really don’t want to throw things at my sisters anyway.

Screw Physics.

(you can’t use a single one of the formulas for a real practical problem because none of them was put together with the force of air in mind. great.)

I’m going to college so that I can code nice programs for you so that your everyday life becomes a bit easier to cope with. But seriously, I think it’s easy enough as it is today. Everything is so damn easy that we have all just stopped thinking. Take the Jerry Springer show for instance. I bet my left nut that none of the people on that show — or in the audience for that matter — think — at all. Empty. Vacuum. Or if they think it’s something simple like “I’m gonna punch that fuck in the face because punching people in the face is fun and I get payed to do it, so that all the hillbillies sitting at home can push even more junk into their mouths and get even fatter.”

Screw white trailer park trash.

My Plans for the Future

It’s Friday. I’m sitting by myself, putting together the college newspaper at my college when I’m suddenly struck by an overwhelming boredom. Overwhelming boredom often strikes me when I have been sitting in front of a computer for more than two hours. Doing serious stuff, that is. Games, on the other hand, I can play for hours.

Anyway, I start sending SMS messages with my cellular hoping that this might entertain me for a while. I have a little chat with one of my sisters, send a few messages to a girl that broke up with her boyfriend around Christmas and still hasn’t stopped crying over him, and a message or two to a third girl. During this message exchange I get to know that the third girl is going to start working in a bakery to pay off her student loan. Having told me about her plans for the future, she ask me about my plans for the future. My plans for the future?

But I don’t have any plans for the future, damn it! My only plan for the future was to get done with the newspaper so that I could walk home and get something to eat. Should one have a plan for ones future? Is it wrong not to have plans? I usually only plan for a week or so at the time. And that is not much of a future. Since I realized I didn’t have any real plans and my future was pretty blurry, to put it that way, my messed up mind started to come up with all kinds of scenarios.

I’m 21 years old. Statistically that would give me about 50 years left to live. If I’m not struck by lighting or eating by tigers at the zoo, that is. But because I usually go inside during thunderstorms and I seldom visit zoos with tigers, let’s say that I will live for another 50 years. That’s a lot of time! But I sleep much. About eight hours a day. 8x365x50 = 146000 hours. That’s about 6083 days or 17 years. I will be asleep 17 of those 50 years. But that still gives me about 34 years awake. What the heck should I do for 34 years?