Midnight Parties

Word of the day: Trepidation, meaning: a feeling of alarm or dread. (A word I don't normally use)

There is nothing that eases my trepidation of exposing myself to public places more than doing so around midnight, just to find that most of the public that firmly establishes that place as a public place ceases to clog my path. For instance, shopping for things at midnight. It's a beautiful thing. Ever tried it? I'm sure most people have, but have they done it through the perception, or at least thought about it through the lens of somebody who hates most gatherings of people? Give THAT a shot. It's great. You'll look at it as a haven.

Nevermore!

I wish to see a musical NEVERMORE! Most uninteresting and bipolar form of entertainment ever (obviously in my own opinion). Nothing against the actors of that play, if they were ever to read this by some chance.

The Disc Chain...

...would be the name of my magazine if I were to create one focusing on disc golf. I had to do an assignment yesterday for journalism thinking about a site/magazine idea of my own, and that's what I came up with. I actually don't think it would be much of a flop, considering there isn't a whole lot of coverage out there for disc golf as much as other "things." My idea centered around the usual stuff I found in other disc golf magazines (funny thing, I only found two) : course/gear/new disc reviews, tournament coverage, etc. But my big idea was covering one unique park in every issue, including a huge spread with full-page photos of every single hole on the course, detailing the hole number and what its general appeal is. This would give readers a chance to actually take a vivid look at courses they might not have access to from across the nation, which I think a lot of disc golf people would find extremely interesting. I know I would...I feel like I want to make this happen.

If I look back on this years from now, and the idea is a success...good fucking job dude. You have put your life to good use.

So Maybe It Still Happens Here

I saw my old Psychology professor at the most random tire shop in Grand Rapids, and it was amusing to say the least. End.