Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Targeted Titan

The package arrived on the doorstep at exactly half past noon. The delivery man rang the doorbell, went back down the path back towards his truck, and drove away.

The door opened, and the owner of the house picked up the package, ripped off the masking tape, and took out a folded note and a small Tupperware container.

After reading the note, the owner took the lid off the Tupperware. 

A vintage lantern clock lay inside, gleaming like wet bronze in the sunlight, and stamped into its base was an inscription.

Agens Dou.


S. A. Montague smiled, put the note and the clock back into the Tupperware, and went inside.

The Targeted Titan

S. A. Montague:

I've followed your orders. The proof is enclosed.

- Jack Gent -

Monday, September 26, 2011

The Targeted Titan

Jack Gent came into the coffee shop and slapped a five dollar bill down on the counter. 

The barista looked at him. "Whaddya want?" he asked in a bored, mulish tone.

"A grande cappucino," said Gent. "Make it snappy."

"Coming right up," said the barista dully. He picked up the five dollar bill and fished around in the cash register for change. 


After Gent got his coffee, he went out and down the street, sipping genteelly from his drink, watching people hurry past him.

It was a pleasant Friday afternoon. The trees were just beginning to change color, and the wind, although cool, was not too brisk. The shops up and down the street were bustling with customers.

As he passed a bicycle stand, Gent caught sight of his prey. He was sitting miserably in a little open-air cafe several yards away, his head bent down towards his shoes, his hair flopping in his eyes.  

Gent slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the folded paper.

Ab irato: actus me invito factus non est meus actus.


The man looked up as Gent approached. "I thought you said you'd be here at four."

"It's pretty close to four," Gent replied airily, taking a seat. "You must know by now that I never keep appointments exactly, John."

"Don't call me that!" hissed Agent II. "You're supposed to call me Anthony!"

"Very well, Antony," said Gent pleasantly.

"Anthony," Agent II muttered. "At least try to get it right. What have you found?"

"Anthony, Antonio, Antony. I find it odd that you'd choose such a name. Mark Antony had a name like yours. He committed suicide rather than fight like a man. Are you... like him?"

Agent II raised his eyebrows. "I don't see where this is going."

Gent reached into his pocket and slid the note across the table. "I do. Montague has instructions for you, Antony."

Agent II read it twice, then pushed it back. "I don't speak Latin. And it's not Antony."

"Let me clarify," said Gent. He cleared his throat. "From an angry man (or woman, who knows?): the act done by me (that refers to me, I suppose) against my will is not my act.
 He pushed the note back.

"Well?"

"I - I don't understand," said Agent II. He looked down at the little white paper. "What act? What are you talking about? Is that really from Montague?"

Gent flipped the paper over. "Look."

There was an emblazoned crown on the back, glittering black in the sunlight.

"Yes, yes, I see it," said Agent II weakly. "But I tell you I don't understand."

Gent leaned back and crossed his arms. "There are two options, I believe. One: Montague plans for me to... dispose of you. Two: Montague expects me to dispose of you." He paused. "I'd like to keep my job, you know... So, you see, there is really nothing I can do."

"But - why?" Agent II mouthed, lips flapping.

"I suppose Montague is tired of you being alive," said Gent. "I don't really know why; one never knows with employers."

He got to his feet.

Agent II flinched, then lowered his head. "There's nothing I can say, is there." His voice was dull. "Everyone always said you were the best. I guess they were right."

Gent stood there, looking at him. There was a curious expression on his face.

Agent II looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving, I think," said Gent.

He looked down at Agent II, stared hard at him. "I suggest you depart also."

"What?"

Gent bent down to his eye level. "Get. Out. Of. Town. I never want to see your droopy mug ever again."

"You're not going to - to -?"

"You are the thickest bonehead I'd ever had the misfortune of knowing," Gent snapped. "I am not going to do Montague's dirty work for him (or her). Get out of here. Vanish; disappear; vamoose. Capiche?"

Agent II had risen unsteadily to his feet. "Okay. I'll... be going, then." He glanced nervously around him; patted at his pockets. "I didn't pay for my meal."

Gent had sat back down, and now he pulled a plate of steaming food towards himself. "I've got it."

He glanced back up. "Goodbye, Agent II."

Agent II wobbled for another moment, cast a final astonished look at Gent, turned slowly, and walked away, clutching his briefcase. He melted into a crowd of chattering teenagers and vanished.

Gent picked up the paper and scratched his fingernail over the black crown, almost absentmindedly. It crumbled and flaked under the pressure; when he took his hand away, the ominous sign was gone.

The Thorny Titan

Dun dun dun duntadun duntadun. Dundundun tadundun tadundun. Doo dun doo dun dadundadun da doo duntadun tadun duntadun duntadun da doo duntadun duntadun...doo dun doo duntadundun, da doo duntadundun, da doo duntadun duntadun...*


That is from what, dear reader?*




Guess*!!









YES! STAR WARS!!
This is Darth Vader, taken from: theforce.net


 * for those of you who can't understand my singing, I offer my most heartfelt apologies.



Yes, I am a genius.

I am TOTALLY a genius!

PICTURES ARE AMAZING!!!


Ahem.

Today, dear reader, we are going to talk about the Darth Vader of College.

He is not a person in real life, therefore he is not a person at College.

He is a symbol of evil.

So:

He represents Homework/Studying!


If you are also a College Student (like myself) I do not need to explain to you why Homework/Studying is so evil.

But I will anyways!!!


REASONS WHY HOMEWORK/STUDYING IS LIKE DARTH VADER, ONLY WORSE:


Homework causes these things:


1. Sweat: I am not going to attempt to describe this natural, albeit uncomfortable, phenomenon.
2. Tears: caused only by extreme stress and abnormal pain.
3. Fury: due to the lack of instructions, funds, or rewards for said Homework.
4. Exhaustion: because studying is quite strenuous.
5. Loneliness: because you cannot hang out with people or talk whilst doing said Homework.
6. Hunger: because no one will bring you a snack or buy you coffee.
7. Thirst: see above. Also no sodas or ice cream or bananas. Or Fried Zucchini.
8. Droopyness: lack of food = droopy people
9. Ugliness: no showering whilst doing homework.
10. Helplessness: because you must do the homework or get a bad...bad...bad... grade
11. Afraidness: because you may not finish the said Homework on time
12. Coollessness: because it is not cool to do said Homework
13. Brainoverloadness: because the said Homework is making you stupid
14. Sickfromtoomuchstuffness: because you ate too much Fried Zucchini - no, stop, wait: because the said Homework has filled up your brain
15. Drowniness: because you are suffocating under the mountain of said Homework
16. Ergasiophobia: the fear of work, which you now have
17. Pain: self-explanatory, this one.
18. Suffering: see last seventeen points.
19. Hatred: of certain professors who gave you said Homework, but because you are Kind and Nice and Good you will only make faces at them in class instead of sending them Hate Mail.
20. Agony: repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat above nineteen points
21. General Medical Afflictions: Your hair falls out.
22. Categorized Medical Afflictions: Your eyes fall out.
23. Really Weird Medical Afflictions: Your teeth fall out. You, my friend, have scurvy. Go eat an orange.
24. Sniffles: because said Homework can make really sensitive souls cry.
25. Wheezies: due to all the dust from your folders and said Homework and tablecloth, which you, as a busy College Student, never employ.
26. Loopyness: Too much soda? Or was it the Cheetos? Oh, right, I have no food. It must be the said Homework.
27. Monotony: said Homework said Homework said Homework said Homework
28. Falling: off your chair as you realize you are dozing off....
29. Screaming: as you fall off your chair as you realize you are falling as you find that you are dozing off because of the above afore-mentioned already repeated several times said Homework.

And, finally:



30. Enduring Sadness. 



Insert Pitiful Puppy Picture Here



If you will look over the list once more, I believe that most of these have also been symptoms of Darth Vader's actions: namely, his evilness created these sorts of bad feelings in people.

Darth Vader = Homework/Studying, due to x + y and z + k, which are as follows:

>a>asdfkaown123kasdf923n0ylamsignfda[ps[ry';u;lo":Asdwawerawerdsgh\akdnsoe,ly aoeufblapset;::"P()(*&asiw01m385hgaos03gmwe0pakdng ud0a-1qo39hg faks0f01823h34 g9aswd0gf081824h4jkdn>>><


HA!

I hope you didn't think that I was actually going to write out a sort of code or formula or something.

Darth Vader = Homework (in terms of Symbolism) and you're just going to have to take my word for it.


Now:

Today I was going to write an Essay, which I usually like to do.
But since I do not like my Essay topic, I decided not to do it.

Now I am going to get an F.


Just kidding.
I will do it on Wednesday. It is due on Thursday. Do the math.



AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


Just kidding. You are probably an English major or something equally-un-Mathy. Please don't try to do the math. It might make your laptop explode. Just sit there and think happy English major thoughts about themes, butterflies, and little tiny letters.


a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 


Wow that worked!!
But my font went so little! Sob.
Despite that, I feel so refreshed (from the little letters, reader, not the bad font size).


Back to not doing homework. Even if you do not like homework, dear reader, which I totally understand, you should still do it, and I'm sure you know the reasons why so please don't make me write all of them out like I always have tooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo:

List:
1. Because you might get an A!
2. Because you might get a B!
3. Because you might get a C!
4. Because you might get a headache!
5. Because you might get a backache!
6. Because you might get a sideache!
7. Because it's good?
8. Because it makes your professors happy?
9. Because it makes your parents happy?


I know!!

How about:

10. Because you learn something?


(Automatic reader response: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


That's right, children!
We do homework because we learn something by doing it!

If we don't learn anything, or practice a new skill, or discover a new interest:
Then homework is useless!

(sounds of cheering and applause)


But if we do actually really sort of maybe learn something....

Than I guess Homework is not Darth Vader.

 
Unless it is Busy Work.

Busy Work Homework = Darth Vader symbolism.


And for all you disappointed readers:

I still privately think that All Homework is analogous, in some possible way, to Darth Vader and his evilness.


Tips of the Day:


Tip #96: Change is inevitable. Yes, just look at the background of my blog! Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

Tip #97: After 96 comes 97.

Tip #98: When writing a resume, do not include Failed Writer, Bird Sitter, or Hand Sanitizer in your list of earlier jobs.

Tip #99: Anagrams are fun. The Anonymous Titan = Tiny Mouse Hat On Ant = I am not Anthony Utes.

Tip #100: Plant a herb/vegetable garden. Then send me Fried Zucchini!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Targeted Titan

Anonymus mērķis locus:
Angelus.

The Thematic Titan


I do not like you, you will see.

I do not like you, Grammer Class!!

You do not like me, Titan? that evil class asks.

I do not like you, Grammer Class!!



A Poem:

Of Grammer, I will say:
I did not like that class today!

I fretted my brain over useless rules
Around my desk were scattered pools -
Of tears, my friends; my eyes were jets
Of scalding water - and Hope had fled
That soon this class would be abed.

Twas near past ten at night
- so late -
And every student forced to wait.

The clock was froze,
The prof was loud,
I banged my hand upon my brow!
Next to me, I heard a cough
I turned my weary eyes aloft

A 'draggled* Student glanced at me
His eyes were red and fierce and dree!
I bit my lip and gave a groan -
He was txting on his phone!

Such pain and loss affected me
As I recalled past history
Of evil Students lacking time
To listen as professors primed
Their classes for the world of Real
(Here I'd thought that some would fail
To keep a job in such a Place-)

But I am drifting far apace.

In my class the speech went on-
Nouns and verbs and pros and cons -
Of English as compared to those
Other, correctly structured foes:
Latin, French; Dutch and Greek.

My English skills seemed rather meek
As nouns were split in sixths and eighths:
Personal/Useless/Dumb/and Waifs.
Tell me, reader, do you care
To read the phrases written there?
"Phrases" are those words above,
Of which, methinks, I have no love.
A few are fake (of this I see)
But I doubt you wished for Clarity.

Grammer, a class so rightly blamed,
Is only for the learned and famed.

Grammer, dear Grammer, to thee I say:
Thy rules, thy forms, thy speech, thy ways -
Never, dear Grammer, to thee I'll stray.

* a form of bedraggled: dirty and/or disheveled.

Tomorrow: A little writing about Homework. 

Sunday, September 18, 2011

The Titular Titan

Yes, I am still alive.

No, I am not procrastinating.

Well, not really. I had quite a bit of homework to do this week, so I could not write you wonderful posts, dear reader. I hope you will forgive me.

If forgiveness is too hard, at least will you read this quote out loud?

Okay, go ahead:

"I, the Dear Reader, will forgive the Anonymous Titan for the lack of posts the last two weeks."

There, that wasn't too hard, was it? Thank you for your forgiving nature, dear reader.


In case you are wondering, I haven't seen that creepy stalker business suit man around lately, as I've moved yet again, and yet again, and possibly yet again. I am now living in ______, which is pretty far away from ______, and even more far away from ___________, but close to ___________.

I can guess you are not happy, dear reader, to see all those empty non-filled spaces with the lines under them, so I will write something that you can read!


A few (or more) or sixteen days ago, I was walking past the Performing Arts Building near the Nutwood parking lot. It was hot, and I was holding a binder over my head to stop the sunshine from massacring my scalp, and sweat was dripping off the end of my nose, and I was staring at the ground because the sunlight was bouncing off any shiny object nearby (cars, windows, people with jewelry on), and suddenly...

I ran into a person!!

He was a rather strange person, I must say...

But I am jumping ahead like usual.

I ran into that person, and my binder fell out of my hands and onto the cement, and I flew backwards and landed on the burning cement and everything went everywhere and I felt rather bruised.

This was because the person I had so rudely run into was a person made out of some type of dark metal.

He was sitting/lying in a slab of concrete, and he appeared to be stuck.

I offered him a hand (after gathering up my belongings and wiping my face with a paper towel), which he ignored, because he could not take it.






 So I sat down next to him on his cement block and talked to him for a little while. (I also removed some bird poop from his head with another paper towel, but that is beside the point, and so forget that I wrote that and keep reading this other stuff I wrote.) It turned out that his name was ARISE - according to his nameplate - but I told him that a better name would be Shawn, because ARISE sounded so sad and so boring and so odd. No offense, person who sculpted him (Mr. Eric Goulder, sir), but I really do like Shawn better than ARISE, and Shawn himself says that he is more partial to the name Shawn than to ARISE. He said ARISE sounds like a deodorant or something and he is glad of his new normal-sounding name. Furthermore, he wishes that you had build a canopy over him so that birds wouldn't poop on him. But one can't have everything, you know.

Anyway, as people began to come out of buildings and eye me oddly, I decided that I would talk to Shawn later, so I patted him on his (blazingly hot) shoulder, shrieked in pain, and bid him a hasty goodbye. "Perhaps I will come at a cooler and less crowded time, Shawn," I told him (he said nothing), and then I went to my first class of the day, which was, unfortunately, Grammar.


During Grammar class I decided that the spelling of "Grammar" was not to my liking, as I kept accidentally replacing the last "a" with an "e", so I wrote "Grammer" at the top of my notes and smiled happily.

The guy next to me leaned over with a scowl.

"You spelled 'Grammar' wrong," he hissed.

I stared at him. It was the middle of lecture, so I was supposed to be listening to the professor, not to him, and I was trying to understand the meaning of "Intransitive" and "Transitive" verbs, which was complicated, and which the professor was elaborating on at the moment.

He pointed at my notes because I was not responding (as I was in shock). "It's G-R-A-M-M-A-R," he said disgustedly.

I blinked at him (still in shock). "I know that," I whispered. "I'm trying to pay attention here."

This did not make the Super Speller Man happy. He scowled (if possible) even darker and jabbed at my notes again. "Then why did you spell it wrong?"

I sighed and erased the "e" in 'Grammer' and put in an "a" instead. "Happy?"

"Thank you," said Super Speller Man, as though I had just done him a great personal wrong. "I cannot stand it when people misspell words."

I was about to point out that he had spelled "Intransitive" ("Intransetive") wrong in his notes, but someone behind us shushed him, and I thought it would be more productive to listen to the professor, as I had still not figured out the difference between "Intransitive" and "Transitive" verbs.

After I figured it out, I wrote Super Speller Man a little note:

You spelled "Intransitive" wrong.

and I slid it onto his desk.

The Super Speller read my note, squished it, and dropped it onto the floor (Litterer!!! I thought, horrified). However, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he erased something on his paper and rewrote it.

I felt as though I had had my revenge, so I sat back in my chair and listened happily to Grammer, which was nice (except that it was profoundly harder than I had expected) and tried not to whistle.

A little while later, Super Speller Man raised his hand.

"Yes," said the nice woman professor. "Do you have a question?"

"You spelled 'correctly' wrong," said Super Speller Man rudely. "It's C-O-R-R-E-C-T-L-Y, not 'C-O-R-E-C-T-L-Y."

"Oh, whoops," said the nice professor. She erased the word and rewrote it. "Thank you. Now, back to the subclasses of nouns."

"Hey!" said Super Speller Man. "You spelled "Grim" wrong too!! It's G-R-I-M-M, not 'G-R-I-M'!"

The nice professor put down her marker (she had been about to write down a few example nouns) and turned to look at him.

"G-R-I-M-M is a name," she said. "G-R-I-M is an adjective. I will use it in a sentence to clarify. The professor began to feel slightly grim after her student continually corrected her spelling."

Super Speller Man was not, however, at a loss for words, as I would have been at this point.

"G-R-I-M-M is too the right way to spell grim!" he insisted. "I've read it lots of places! I know I'm right, Professor."

The other Students in the class began to pay attention. Some of them looked appalled. Others looked alert. I felt tired.

The professor, who had evidently thought against arguing some more with Super Speller Man, picked up her marker again and turned her back on him.

"Nouns fall into several subclasses," she began, "and a few of them are as follows..."

Super Speller Man heaved a greatly annoyed sigh and flumped back into his chair.

I moved my desk a little farther away from his.



After Grammer, which was a bit too long for my liking, I went home.

Hypnos was sitting on my desk chair and eating a piece of Fried Zucchini!!

I sat down on my desk and stared at him. "That was my Fried Zucchini," I said.

Hypnos meowed and continued eating my Fried Zucchini.

I stared at him harder. "My Fried Zucchini."

Hypnos continued to eat my Fried Zucchini. Then he swallowed. Then he lay down and went to sleep.

I looked at the floor.

It was covered with crumbs.

I went to my fridge and opened it.

There was no more Fried Zucchini.

I had had six boxes of Fried Zucchini in my fridge in the morning.

I turned and looked at Hypnos.

I could hear him snoring. His tail lay limply over the side of the chair.

I sighed, closed the fridge, and went and got a box of chocolate cereal to eat instead.


New Topic:

Hazards of CSUF (and why they are hazardous):

1. People txting/walking/running/screaming/dancing/talking/shouting/breathing/coughing/sneezing/whispering/looking at you/stealing your computer that you were about to get/tripping you and not apologizing/singing weirdly/doing a presentation and messing up so that you feel really bad for them and you wish you were somewhere else/arguing with people/leaving gum on the ground so you step in it later/cutting in line in front of you/waving their hands around when talking and accidentally hitting passerby in the face/stopping while they are walking and creating traffic jams/making too much noise so that you can't type your paper in the library because all you hear is "HAHAHA! That Was SO Funny!!"/generally being people like people are.
2. Beeping things are really hazardous. Consider the evil beeping poles in the library. Every day I hear these evil beeping poles go off and it is really nerve-wracking and it makes me want to cry and run away, which is what people do when they walk through the poles and the poles beep.
3. Library guard people who are spying on you when you walk through the poles so that they can grab you when the poles beep and who wear those scary neon orange vests and who you have to run away from when the poles beep after you walk through them - believe me, I know.
4. Flier people who chase after you and give you stuff... Let's not talk about them; they make me queasy.
5. Buildings that might fall over. Such as McCarthy, which was built before they knew how to make buildings mildly earthquake-safe. Don't go in there, I implore you. It will be hazardous to your health someday, I assure you. Also, sometimes buildings are a little scary when you are right next to them and you look up at them and they are really tall; so tall that they stretch up into the sky and make you dizzy. Don't look up at them; it is bad for your mental health.
6. Elephants, because someday they might run onto our campus because Tuffy is our mascot and they love her, and they might trample us all trying to find her.
7. Windows because people may look in them and scare you.
8. Stairs because sometimes I fall down them or other people do, and falling down stairs is hazardous to your health.
9. Statues because you might run into them. That library lady statue is much too out there for me - I mean, her hand is always so close to hitting me in the head when I walk by. So I duck a lot.
10. Breathing- because some people inhale smoke and then exhale it out when you are passing, and then you inhale smoke and COUGH and GAG and FAINT and DIE and other stuff if you are not careful like me.
11. Weather: remember that thunderstorm we had lately? Weather is bad for you too.
12. Professors, because they may give you bad grades or nasty looks, and both of those are equally horrible and you want to avoid bad things like that, but you have to go to class, so I guess you will have to risk it. Just keep your head down in class and turn in your homework on time and get A's on your tests and I suppose you will be fine. But remember not to say anything, cause then they'll figure out your name and ask you questions in class and you never want to answer questions in class; that is hazardous too.
13. Students Who Think They Know Everything And Who Tell You (And Everyone Else) That They Are Smart Constantly- no explanation needed here!
14. Walking- because the sidewalks are crooked and they have cracks and it is mildly scary to walk down them, and someday you might trip and drop everything and also break your nose on the cement. Hazardous much?
15. Sleeping in class or in the library or on the floor of the library or on the ground outside or on the escalator, which I believe some people do because sometimes it takes fifty years to go up the escalator because no one is walking! Okay, deep breathing time. Excuse me.
16. Textbooks, which may fall on your head or your toes or your fingers and hurt them.
17. Shouters because they are loud, and I can't remember why I wrote this down or who they are.... Oh yeah. You know those people who are giving screaming sermons in the Quad? Those people are scary.
18. Bugs because wasps are evil.
19. People on Transportation Devices, which zoom around you and knock you off your feet, which are already off-balance because you are navigating the crooked, cracked sidewalk. Scooters, skateboards, bikes, those things. But most transportation device people are generally well-behaved, I must say. (Don't come find me, scary bikers! I am just the little Anonymous Titan and not worth your notice...)
20. And...

My favorite...

Pause....

I am thinking....

Come back to me on that one later.
 
Tips of the Day:

Tip #94: which is very cool. Now, today, dear, reader, we, are, going, to, talk, about, using, commas, correctly, because, proper, use, of, commas, is, very, useful. You, cannot, use, commas, or, semicolons; after, every; single, word, in, a; sentence. Use; commas, sparingly. Have, you; got, the, point; yet?

Tip #95: I suggest you avoid the English Grammer class with all alacrity. 

Tip #95: Who has looked up the meaning of "alacrity"? Not me!

Tip #96: I am not a Math Major, so don't judge.


And with that ominous declaration, I will say Goodnight.

Goodnight!

Boa noite (for my Portuguese fans)!


BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeee

Saturday, September 10, 2011

The Took Titan

One day a long time ago, I was sitting in the Garden Cafe, minding my own business (like usual, because I am a very courteous person - yes, I know I am amazing, thank you) and eating lunch (I'm not even going to make you guess this one - you should really know what I eat by now) when something very odd happened.

All of a sudden, all around me, people (there were other people eating lunch there too, odd, right?) pushed back their chairs, got to their feet, formed a huge circle around my table (I was the only one still seated) and broke into dramatic song simultaneously.

It was very loud. I believe they were singing something like "We Areeeee the Champions, No Time for Losers, 'Cause We are the Championsssssss..... Of the World!!!"

Okay, okay, I'm kidding. That did not really happen.

In actuality, all around me, people were eating their lunches calmly, and discussing boring things like the heat wave that had suddenly struck Fullerton, or talking about the various contents of their backpacks. (Pencils. Ugh.) I was amusing myself with my Portuguese homework. Everything was quiet and peaceful and still.

Suddenly, there was a great commotion! Someone ran into the Garden Cafe and leapt valiantly onto a table! I dropped my fork! People stared! Not at me! At the guy who was standing on the table and striking a pose as though he was an actor! His lips parted! Everyone gasped!

"I AM A ROCK," he declaimed majestically, "A lonely rock, / Far off in the sea of unhappiness, of soon sadness, / Where so is the one who called me? / Could it be? Are you dreams like I once was? / Speak, and tell me! Declaim, like bells!"

Some people raised their eyebrows at each other and tried to make small talk, which was sad, because they did not know what to say. Others were laughing silently or making strange faces. I picked up my fork and watched the Weirdo Actor with interest. A girl two tables away was staring at him with her mouth open and a half-eaten apple in her hand.

"And two were once one, which will never more be," the Weirdo Actor continued (I had missed a little bit of his speech because I was taking quick notes so that I could write about this later), "When the clock strikes three, there, hope so fair will see, / That love is dead and courage spent, / For the man and the woman and the bat and the hen, / What was, will no longer be. And thus, adieu to thee."

He hopped down from the table and went out of the Garden Cafe with a lordly air.

There was a long silence.

"Uh... Do you think he was a theater major?" I heard someone ask someone else in a bemused tone.

"I guess so. Why do you think he came in here?"

"Maybe he needed to practice his lines," someone else at their table suggested. "That was so weird."

Privately, I agreed, but went back to my fried zucchini and ate the rest of my lunch in silence.

The Garden Cafe people were quietly confused until I left, which was a good twenty minutes later.


On the way to class, I was walking through the lane next to the Quad when I looked up from my Portuguese notecards and saw with a start that everyone within a two-mile radius was txting on their cellphones, and they all had their heads down in intense concentration.

So I stopped and sat down on a bench (next to some girl, who started, stared at me, and then moved two benches away) and watched this phenomenon with great interest.

It seemed as though the phones were life-sucking fiends that had decided to rid the whole CSUF human population of eyesight, hearing, and walking ability.

Every few seconds someone txting would narrowly miss colliding with another txting person. Occasionally, people would collide with each other, bounce off obliviously, and continue walking haphazardly.

I named this strange new behavior Txting Oblivion.

It works like this:

a. One person is walking and txting.
b. Another person is walking and txting.
c. They are heading towards each other.
d. If a and b and c are true, than e is true also.
e. The two persons have a eighty-twenty chance of colliding with each other.
f. If e is true, than g is true.
g. The two persons might walk into each other.
h. If g is true, than i may be true.
i. The two persons will collide.
j. The two persons will profusely apologize.
k. The two persons will each privately think that it was the other person's fault, neglect to say so, and hurry on their way.
l. Within 2.6 seconds, each person will have begun txting again.
m. Within 7.8 seconds, each person will once again be in the same situation as outlined in a, b, and c.
n. This proof will repeat itself again in 10.9 seconds.
o. No matter what, each person involved in this scenario will continue to txt and walk at the same time, even though they may suffer broken bones or maimed limbs after such behavior.
p. The Anonymous Titan will never participate in above behavior.
q. This proof will have repeated itself thirty-two times in the amount of time you have taken to read it.

After I finished detailing this proof (don't listen, English Majors! We still rock!!!) I got up and went to class and pretended to txt, and thus I did not run into anyone.

That reminds me:

Sometimes people aren't really txting anyone! Or calling them, for that matter! They may not have any friends or relatives or people to bug at all!!

So beware:

You might see some of those people around. And then you should run in great fear.

As I mentioned last time, I am using the word "txt" in lieu of the word "text", because I think neither of them are really words (unless you are using "text" to mean something like: 'There was text in the book', which not many people do nowadays, so just forget I mentioned it - unless you are a superior History Major and you use that word all the time, yada yada yada, you think you're so great,) so I picked one I liked: "txt" and stuck with it.

Now.

Yesterday I decided to go to a Ice Cream Store around nine-thirty (at night - ice cream is always better at night, duh) AND I BOUGHT SOME ICE CREAM AND IT WAS MY FAVORITE.

Oh, did I accidentally push the CAPS LOCK button? Sorry.

DID I MENTION HOW MUCH I LOVE ICE CREAM?

AND DID I SAY WHAT KINDS WERE MY FAVORITE?

AND DID I MENTION THAT I WILL NOT TELL YOU NO MATTER WHAT?

SO STOP STARING AT ME LIKE THAT?

Yup, there must be something wrong with my keyboard. I have no idea what's wrong with that CAPS LOCK button.

So I went to the ICE CREAM STORE (see? It hates me) and I bought some delicious ice cream and I ate it with glee and joy and happiness and all that sort of emotion, and I was sitting on the pavement outside, watching the cars rush by (those zoomy rushing cars are scary, let me tell you), when I was abruptly scared to death.

You know how I've been moving from place to place? Well, tonight my fears were confirmed.

I was just sitting on the pavement, eating my ice cream, when I happened to look away from the street and down the line of shops past the ice cream store, and I saw a man.

He was wearing a dark business suit and carrying a thick black briefcase, and staring into the clothing shop window. He also had on sunglasses, which was odd because it was dark outside.

I took this in rather quickly, and I was about to turn away when I caught sight of something. He was wearing a dark hat. I recognized this hat- there was a slightly lighter streak cutting over the top and down onto the sides, and the last time I had seen it I had been crouching in the ceiling of my old apartment, looking down at the intruder that had broken in.

I hastily got up and headed for my bike, trying to look nonchalant and calm, but my hands were shaking a little (I told myself it was from the cold ice cream), and when I tried to toss my empty ice cream cup into the trashcan I missed.

I almost turned around to see if the man in the suit was gone, but I reminded myself that staring at him might catch his attention, and so I just scooped up my trash from the ground, shoved it into the trashcan, and hurried over to my bike.

It took a while to unfasten the lock; my hands were shaking that badly, and I couldn't seem to catch my breath, and I wanted so desperately to turn around and make sure the man in the suit wasn't watching me, but I knew I couldn't do it, so I just kept twisting the dial and trying to breathe slower.

I finally remembered the combination and popped it open, and got onto my bike and sped away, weaving through the parked cars and out onto the sidewalk, pedaling much faster than normal and praying that he wasn't following me.

Eventually, after I went through six different alleyways and down three side streets (and through one parking garage and two residential areas), I had satisfied myself that I wasn't being followed, and I headed back home.

Soo....any advice?

I didn't think that you would be able to help me, dear reader. Never mind.

I've already found a new apartment, and I've moved again, so everything's fine for now.

I'd better go. I'm feeling a little under the weather right now.


Tips of the DAY (not my fault the CAPS LOCK did that):

Tip #91: I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE ALMOST TO THE ONE HUNDREDTH TIP! I WILL BE EVEN MORE LOUD WHEN WE GET THERE! And this tip is: buy some chocolate and eat it for me. Even better, leave it (uneaten, preferably) on the sundial with some Fried Zucchini. I already have a million pairs of socks from last week. Thanks for the enthusiastic response, everyone.

Tip #92: WE ARE NOW EVEN CLOSER TO THE ONE HUNDREDTH TIP! IMAGINE HOW OVERJOYED I WILL BE WHEN WE GET TO NUMBER TWO HUNDRED!!!! Now do this Tip: go to the library (yes, that place you never go to) and check out a few books. Just a few; you don't want to overdo it. Then go home and read them. Then bring them back on time, or you will have to pay an evil Fine and the librarian will turn you into dust with his or her rightful glare of disgust, and Toby will have to sweep you up into the trash with the dead leaves.

Tip #93: Wash your face. Yes, you. That person with the squinty eyes and also the dirty nose. You. Go now. Shoo. Adios. Farewell. Goodbye. Get up. Go away. WASH WASH WASH!!!

Ta-ta, dear reader!

DID YOU SAY SOMETHING ABOUT FRIED ZUCCHINI??

HUH???

DID YOU SAY YOU WILL BRING A TON NEXT WEEK?

ARE YOU SURE??

I DOUBT IT!!!

I HAVE NO FAITH IN YOU, DEAR READERS!!

SO PROVE ME WRONGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!

Sunday, September 4, 2011

The Targeted Titan

Agent II yawned and scratched at his stubbly chin. It was two in the morning, and he was tired.

He picked up the manila folder and dumped it out on his desk again, frowning as he did so. He did not think he would find anything new in the folder, but there was no harm in checking. He had no other options. Unless, of course, Gent had come up with something, but this was rather unlikely at the moment.

Gent hadn't contacted him since the last time Agent II had met him at the coffee shop, which was over a week ago, and a week way too long in Agent II's opinion. Agents were supposed to get their jobs done quickly, and from what Agent II saw, even though Gent was Jack Gent, he had no business ignoring his partner for this long.

Agent II picked up the first of the papers, skimmed it wearily, and put it aside. He did the same with the next one, and the next one, and the next and the next and the next.

It was a relief when the knock came from outside. Agent II slid the papers back into the folder, put the folder back into the drawer, locked it, and got up to answer the door. He hoped that his contact had good news.

But the little, bespectacled man standing there, wet from head to foot and white in the face, did not look as though he had good news. He opened his mouth to speak and promptly burst into tears.

Agent II sighed silently and hustled his contact inside.

"What is it, Neil?" he asked, stuffing a mug of cold coffee into the little man's hands. "Did something go wrong?" Neil was always crying about something or another, so this breakdown came as no surprise, but it was definitely annoying.

Neil sniffed desolately and brought the mug to his lips. "Ew," he moaned, and set it down hurriedly. "Is this cold coffee?"

"Yes, yes, sorry. Here, have a muffin. Chocolate."

Neil looked down at the muffin in despair, and made no move to take it. He sank into a nearby chair and put his face in his hands, which were still dripping, and Agent II realized with a start that water was spreading over the wooden floor under Neil's sodden shoes.

"Great. This is just great. I'll get you a blanket and some other clothes. Don't move any more. You'll wreck all my stuff." He hurried out of the room and came back almost instantly with the things in hand.

"You moved!"

Neil was standing by the window, staring outside blankly. He turned. "Huh? Oh. Sorry. Thanks."

He took the clothes from Agent II, who was grimacing at the sight of his wet floor, chair, and the drip marks on the side table that Neil had been standing next to. Agent II sighed and gave them up for lost.

"So what happened?"

Neil bit his lip, and the color drained out of his face again. "Give me a moment." He wrapped the blanket around himself, and rubbed his hair with one of the corners. A limp black curl plastered itself to the side of his sallow face. "Where's your bathroom?"

Agent II gestured curtly. "Make it snappy. You're here for information, not for new clothes. C'mon, move it."

Neil dripped away down the hall and into the bathroom, and Agent II dragged his only chair over to the sink and tried to wipe it off with paper towels.

When his contact came back, he seemed much cheerier. He held up a tin of cookies. "You keep these in your bathroom?"

"For visitors," Agent II grunted, unwilling to disclose the fact that he was a chronic eater. "Tell me your news."

Neil sat down in the wrecked chair and surveyed his surroundings with a discerning eye. "Seems like you're paying too much for this place. Didn't you use to live in L.A. in one of those big high-rise buildings with the air-conditioning and the skylights and the huge windows?" He was sketching the apartment in midair as he spoke, his fingers opening and closing in enthusiasm.

Agent II drummed his own fingers impatiently on the back of Neil's chair. "Yes. Now tell me what happened. Someone follow you? Like last time? Or did you have to pay a parking ticket again?"

"Sheesh, you're in a bad mood. Nope, no one followed me, and no tickets. But I was accosted in an alleyway and this guy tells me that I better tell you that hhee's Jjjack Gggeent annddd-"

Neil had broken down again. Agent II sighed and waited it out.

"Well?" he finally demanded, after Neil's sobs had broken down into quiet whimpers. "Neil, I haven't got all night! Spit it out!"

"Well, gosh, take a chill pill. So Mr. Jack Gent guy stuck his nose in my face and said that I haddd - that I haddd-" he took a deep, shuddering breath, and willed himself to go on "-that I had better tell you that you had to meet him tomorrow or he'd track me down and, and, stuff. So you're supposed to meet him at Joe's Grocery at 3 pm sharp, or he's coming after both of us."

Now he looked pleadingly up at Agent II. "You know I don't like it when people, when they, when people, you know, threaten me, so I sorta lost it."

Agent II rubbed his temples with both hands and tried to think rationally. "You're saying you broke down. Like usual."

"Hey, it's not my fault! I have a condition! I told you a thousand times, a condition! Chronic lachrymation, okay? Gosh." Neil leaned his head against the chair back and closed his eyes. "So you have to be there tomorrow, okay? Or we're both in deep weeds. Deeep, man."

"Stop calling me that," Agent II said automatically. He looked down at Neil. "All right. Thank you. Goodbye."

"Fine, man. You don't have to be so rude. I'm outa here." He flung the blanket on the floor and headed to the door. "Just..." He turned around. "You're gonna be there tomorrow, right? Say I'm right. You're gonna be there."

"I'll be there," Agent II said tiredly. "See you later."

Neil nodded, saluted, and went out, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind him.

It was over an hour later when Agent II realized Neil had left wearing the clothes he had lent him. Oh well, he rationalized, it wasn't as though they were my nicest or anything. A pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt. Really valuable.

Then he remembered, and he hurried back into his bedroom with a racing heart, which sank as soon as he saw the empty bedside table.

The most valuable item in his apartment, the vintage lantern clock, was missing. Of course. He threw his pencil on the floor and scowled. Why hadn't he remembered earlier? Neil wasn't just a chronic weeper, but also an incurable thief.

The Targeted Titan

Anonymus mērķis locus:
 Sacramentum.

The Tormented Titan

Dear reader,

A few days ago, I wandered through the CSUF campus between classes. I walked through the Quad, and past the Evil Flier Lane (which I will write about later) and down past the library, and onto the walkway that runs past the Titan Bookstore and the delicious Yogurt Place (but I still think YOGURT IS FOR SISSIES, and ICE CREAM WINS EVERY SINGLE TIME), and...

Then I was overcome by a paroxysm of happiness when I saw:

THE LITTLE SHOP THAT SELLS LITTLE SNACKS NEXT TO THE BOOKSTORE!

I went into the Little Shop that sells Little Snacks, and I perused the shelves for delicious things like preserved fried zucchini, and dried banana slices, and peanut-butter-filled-M&M's, and fruit roll-ups, but I only found the peanut-butter-filled-M&M's, so I bought them.

Then I found a bag of chewy chocolate cookies.

Then I found a water bottle, and I found a little container of chocolate raisins, and I found a large bag of tortilla chips (because the potato chip ones are boring), and I found a Hershey's bar of white chocolate (largest size ever), and two miniature cartons of ice cream (M&M and pretzel-flavored), and another carton of ice cream (because the first two looked lonely. This one was pistachio), and a little purple thing of breath mints, and another bottle of water, and a second bag of chips (Doritos - Nacho flavored are happiest) and a bag of those twisty red licorice things, except that they don't taste like licorice, they taste like stringy gummy bears or something equally appetizing.

I put my seven baskets on the counter, and then the cashier looked oddly at me and went through each basket to make sure she rang everything up, and then I paid, and then I bought a pack of gum to give to Hypnos. Then I left.

I stepped out into the beautiful morning air with the sound of birdsong in my ears, and the fresh breeze whooshed pleasantly past me and around my purchases, and a bicyclist ran me over.

Needless to say, I was quite startled. I had just opened the door, and walked one inch, and breathed a half a breath, and had begun to heft my packages a little higher....

WHEN THE BICYCLIST MASHED ME FLAT ON THE CEMENT.

AND I WAS DEAD.

AND MY BAGS WERE FLAT PANCAKES OF WHITE AND MUSHED THINGS THAT OOZED EVERYWHERE.

So I lay flat on the cement in case the bicyclist decided to come back and run me over again (I thought walking might be hazardous to my health) and tried to breathe a little. My lovely bought things were crumpled and dripping on the sidewalk and on me and on my backpack and my purple-striped socks.

After a little moment of peace and quiet (and breathing) I unstuck myself and my belongings from the sidewalk and walked to the library. My shoes were sort of sticky from the three broken cartons of ice cream (sniff), and my face was mildly flattened from the cement, and my backpack was now sixty different colors of food, but I was ALIVE.

And let me tell you, reader, that was quite an accomplishment.

After I went into the bathroom and cleaned up and found a computer and began to eat my non-mashed items-

Non-Mashed Items:

1. Some Peanut Butter Filled M&M's
2. A few of those sort-of-licorice stringy things that taste like gummy bears and sugar and stuff
3. One half a bag of tortilla chips
4. A third of the white chocolate Hershey's bar
5. Three breath mints
6. One unbroken Dorito chip.

-I typed a list.

My List:
Bad Bikers

1. They run over people and mash them flat.
2. They run over people.
3. And mash them flat.
4. The injured people are then ignored.
5. The biker gets away without a scratch.
6. Horrified bystanders are equally ignored.
7. The policemen cannot catch up to them because they are going speedy fast.
8. They go over the normal bike speed limit, which I do not know, so do not ask me, but they (the bikers) are wrong!
9. They are not nice.
10. They are not helpful.
11. They are not pretty.
12. They are not happy. They better not be!
13. They are not noticeable, because I did not notice them.
14. They crush you when you walk outside.
15. They mash your purchases.
16. They smell bad, probably.
17. They are blurs because you cannot see them because they go too fast because they are bad.
18. They make me momentarily dead until I remember how to breathe again.
19. They run over people.
20. And mash them flat and make me sad and they smell bad and they are cads and I am mad.

New Topic:

I went down the Evil Flier Lane two days ago.

This was purely by accident, dear reader. Do not copy me. It will be hazardous to your fragile and precious health.

So, dumbly (is that truly a word?), I went down the flier lane of despair and rotting happiness, and someone shoved a flier in my face.

Then someone else shoved two fliers in my face.

Then someone took my hand and put a pen in it and made me fill out a survey. (She was clutching my backpack, so I could not leave.)

Then someone else accosted me and forced me to eat a cupcake and then fill out a questionnaire about the state of my toothbrush and whether or not I flossed every day or every week or at least every year, and then he put a toothbrush and some toothpaste and a cup of water in my backpack.

Then someone else handed me six fliers and someone else tried to trip me so that I would sign his voting registration form, and someone gave me a hat and someone else gave me a pillow and then I was surrounded by Flier People and my life was certainly drawing to an abrupt close.

And I drew one last breath and thought of you, dear reader, and how you would miss me...

And I said goodbye to the world and I closed my eyes and I waited for the end...


And when I opened them again the Flier People had swarmed onto other hapless passerby and I ran like the wind!!!!!!!

I threw my Flier Items into the air and pelted like a cheetah!!!!!

I did not stop until I reached the relative safety of the TSU!!!

And behind me I heard a wild cheering (and frantic pleas from those passerby who had wandered into the Flier People Trap) and I flew through the opening doors of the TSU and sat down at a table and cried.

I was so happy to be alive, dear reader, and without all those needless Flier Items, that my emotions were unleashed like a great flood.

Then I took out my roll of paper towels and wiped my eyes and then I took a little nap.


So how was your week, dear reader?

Mine was great.


Once upon a time, it was hot and muggy and burning at Cal State Fullerton, and the sun had turned into a giant yellow pancake of swelteringness. The trees were melting their leaves onto the runny cement, and the glass in the windows of Mihaylo Hall were warping into strange curves, and Toby the janitor was lying in a heap at the base of one of the trees in the quickly dissolving shade, taking a nap, and a little animal decided to come out of McCarthy Hall and into the Quad.

It was a gloriously hot day, and the Rat was very happy, because he loved the sun and the heat and because it made his fur shine. He sat down in the middle of the drippy cement Quad and turned his ratty face up towards the light and beamed joyfully.
 
Toby the janitor opened one eye at the sound of scritchy scratchy rat walking and looked around for the noise. He was, as he liked to call himself, the Quite Amazing Rat Vanquisher, also known as QARV. 
He reached unobtrusively for the handle of his broom. He had seen the Rat.

The Rat had not seen the QARV, however, and so he continued to laze in the sun, licking his whiskers to rid them of old cheese smell and digging his little paws deeper into the melting cement, as the QARV crept up behind him and took aim.

WHAM!!

The Rat vanished in a puff of broom fibers! The QARV shouted in triumph and stomped his feet! The sun beamed down ever hotter! And the QARV lifted, slowly, the broom.

THE RAT WAS NOT THERE.

Toby frowned and took a firmer grip on his trusty broom and stared around maliciously. 

In the depths of the leaf pile over underneath some trees, the Rat quivered. He had narrowly missed being squashed by a broom head and dropped into a garbage can. He put his paws on top of his head and lay very still.

Toby threw his broom on the ground and went away.

When he returned a little while later, he was dragging a hose behind him.

He turned it on full blast and began to flood the Quad.

This took almost an hour, as the Quad was rather large, and the water kept seeping back towards McCarthy Hall. 

But eventually Toby succeeded, and the Rat leapt into the air as the water reached his hiding place, and Toby shouted and ran after him.

The Rat was very afraid of the evil QARV, who was waving his arms and his broom, and shouting, and leaping, and running very fast, and almost catching up, and who was dripping with water, and so the Rat's little feet were motivated to run as fast as possible. So he did.

As he rounded the corner to the library, he saw in the distance that the library door was ajar, and he ran even faster, as the QARV seemed to be catching up. He zoomed quickly through the gap between the door and the wall, and he ran down the South End Library corridor, heading past the elevators, and one of them opened.

Toby rounded the corner of the South End and was horrified to see the end of the Rat's tail disappearing into the elevator and that the doors were closing and that he could not make it in time!!!!

When he got to the elevator he pressed the up button over and over, hoping to make the elevator come back down, but instead all the other elevators opened their doors several times.

The Rat's elevator went up to the 6th floor, and came back down, and when the doors finally opened, there was only a double line of wet rat footprints and no Rat.

Toby hurried quickly out of the library after speedily mopping up the footprints and kicking the elevator, because he had no desire to tell the librarians that there was now a Rat somewhere in the halls of the South End of the Pollak Library, and also because he had a sneaky feeling that the Quad was overflowing with water, as he had left the hose on.

Luckily for him, the water was already evaporated, and the hose had been switched off (he must have turned it off while en route after the Rat), and the cement was as dry as an empty frying pan over the stove.

Unfortunately, thunder boomed out in the distance. Toby sat down on a hot bench and took out his sack lunch. He wondered if the Anonymous Titan planned to drop by later. The sundial was still empty. Perhaps AT supporters were afraid their gifts might melt.


Tips of the Day:

Tip #86: Go to Alaska and go to the beach and look at the waves and study that math homework and take a breath and eat a piece of chocolate or diet food fare.

Tip #87: Do not chase rats because they are unsanitary. So are earthworms and armadillos and porcupines and dead leaves.

Tip #89: Apportez-moi des chaussettes rayées de violet. Go buy a French Dictionary.

Tip #90: Traga-me roxa com listras meias. Now go translate this Portuguese. Hint: I like purple-striped socks, and currently I only have nineteen pairs, and that is not good. Nineteen?? Good??? No. Not good. 

But that is okay. I will just have to remember that not everyone understands this passion. 

Oh, yes. Don't feed your kitties gum, like I do for Hypnos. His jaws are abnormally strong, and his digestive tract is like iron. He can eat anything. He is like a super goat. But I must admit, sometimes he creates rather horrible hairballs when he chews gum. So put newspaper on your floor, like I do, and try not to walk anywhere.

Farewell, dear reader.


Remember to brush your teethies!