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April 28, 2002 on 12:26 am | In Blogger |

Saturday, April 27, 2002

let’s see…tonight I’m rather tired, so this may or may not be a short blog.

I woke up around 8.30a or 9a, which is too early for my liking, but oddly enough satisfying too. I realized the parent-types were out; where the hell were they? Oh, well, I didn’t feel like thinking about it, so I cooked some egg-toast (I still thank Jill every time I make it for that recipe…).

After that I was bored so I took Grant for a good, long walk. We walked for maybe two miles? I’m not sure. But it was a lot of fun, because my body had been aching for a walk in the same way my mind yearns for the usual intellect.

I came home and Uncle Tom and Mom were home. Uncle Tom! How could I forget he was flying in from Cincinnati? He’ll be here for all of a week, but whatever, I don’t think much of it. Call me crazy, but I’m usually just too busy to think about stuff like that, so as I won’t be home much, I don’t really worry much about it either. But, it is cool that he’s staying with us, really. I just thought he was coming a little later in the year than this week, for some reason.

I then managed to fix my iBook! I figured out it kept freezing because it thought it was starting up with the scanner, which it wasn’t. But, I told it to Force Quit the scanner program, and I did a technique called “rebuilding the desktop,” which was a good thing. After that I stupidly took out the scanner again, finished off my photos, and uploaded them on Snapfish. By the time I was done Jill came over and we worked on the Palantir Perspective. This time around we had a lot of fun writing it; we especially got the giggles when writing about the Sports section. I just hope the rest of the staff thinks its funny, and I decided that if we insult anyone at all, we’ll definately pull it.

When Jill and I finished we went over to Ms Caples’s study session on Crime and Punishment. That took two hours. Joy.

I came home to Uncle Brian and Aunt Angela coming over; we admired Cousin Mark’s new car, then we did other stuff. After dinner Michelle and I went stargazing, even though it was a pretty bad night for stargazing, but that’s okay~

You know, I think I should probably upload my poem to you all, which is this blog’s namesake:

Copyright 2000

JERRY CHRISTIANSON

I am a slave
A slave to the pen.
And my master forces me
To flow across countless pages
Until I�ve achieved perfection.

Writers write
To express their minds
To translate their insanity into words.
Somehow this insanity gets Published.
They make money.

Slaves write
Into the night
Until Orion shall rise and fall
Come and go through and through
We continue on to the climax.

�More, more!�
My master�s whip
Is cruel and relentless
Though the world is asleep
We are awake, writing, writing.

Poetry
Short stories
Cursive here, print there
On the countless pages we write
Our works that will never be complete.

His name
Is Jerry Christianson.
Yet he writes to no one.
Like the moon clouded behind neon lights
Our works are lost on these modern fools.