I’m ready to go. I’ve wanted to go for a long time. I said it out loud about a year ago, but I think I wanted to go before that.

When I was 16 I would get sad and not know why. I’d go to school, my friends would make fun of my hair-cut, I would make fun of their hair-cuts, and then I would go home and be sad and not know why. Well I think that passion for the trip has been a little bit like that. I’ve cramped and strained and not known why. And just like I know that in High School I was sad because I felt like a wart-- I’m starting to guess at why I want to waltz.

Here are some of my early conclusions regarding why it is time:

1) A few days ago a policeman on a Segway, floated like a pixie across the parking-lot, and charged my friend and I with $351 citations for looking in the windows of our school’s new basketball arena. While he was telling us of the possible consequences we would incur if we were to lose an appeal of the citation (suspension of my driver’s license, misdemeanor on my record, and notifying the Student Government Association), a guy jumped the fence surrounding the arena and sprinted towards the doors on the far side. The cop, who of course had a mustache, my friend, who had been smiling because SGA was just mentioned as one of the threats (as if SGA is as real as the people in it think it is), and I, all watched. I glanced at my friend who verified the reality, my friend and I turned to Officer Pixie-Stache expecting action, and Pixie-Stache looked down at his clip-board and asked me how to spell my middle name…It is time.
-If you’re as frustrated by policemen as I am, I’d suggest that you Youtube “dumb cop videos” =therapy

2) Today the same friend left me a voicemail letting me know that his car had been towed and that he was walking in the rain to the impound lot. I went to my car to go rescue him, but was stalled by the process of toweling the seats/doors/floors and cursing the car’s moronic owner for leaving the widows down. When I finally picked my friend up we talked about Officer Pixie-Stache while sitting on monogrammed towels and attempting to ignore what may be a permanent algae smell… It is time.
–Between my friend and I, we owe The Man $1300 more than we’ve ever been paid to write anything…Here’s his blog:http://drewj1.wordpress.com/If you have time for one blog, do yourself a favor and make his blog your blog.

3) Today when one of my papers was returned to me with a B+ grade, and “Parts of your argument require more elaboration,” comment written on the last page; I lit the building on fire. I rode the elevator to the top floor, found my Professor’s office, and held a lit match to the “Associate Professor: Dr. Elaboration Required” nameplate on her desk. She and I watched the signifier burn. She didn’t run. She yelled, “Elaborate! Elaborate! Elaborate!” Further frustrated and walking out of her burning box of an office, I thought that maybe I had reacted too aggressively. I thought about how I hadn’t read either of the two books which I had compared in my essay…It is time.

4) Though #3 didn’t actually happen, I not only visualized it, but managed to write it down as if it were fact…And by didn’t happen I’m referring to the fire and confrontation. In reality I took my B+ on a paper about two books I didn’t read and walked quietly to my car…It is time.

5) I have loved college. But today I left my last class of the semester hoping that I didn’t know that I’d taken the last class of my college career. I don’t really want that to be true…and we’re back to the vitamins and smoking.


And nothing confirms my need for flight more than the following quote being my favorite quote. If you’re planning on ever reading anymore of this blabber I’m typing, you had better read the quote. It will be referenced:

6) “Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball.”-Melville 1. Moby Dick