On the frustratingness of October

Hmm. I've never written anything on here at 3:30 in the afternoon. I'm guessing this entry won't be as interesting as most of my others, thanks to the lack of utter randomness that comes flowing out of my twisted mind at 2 AM. I apologize, but my Tuesdays are too light and I'm too bored to do anything but update this infernal thing.

Anyway, I'm pissed off at that whole sports fan cliché that October is the best month of the year because all four major sports are in action. In actuality, October has done nothing but laugh in my face. The Celtics are now 1-2 because they lost by 19 to, of all teams, the Bulls. The Patriots are just 3-3 despite the downright pathetic state of the AFC East. UVA waited for me to leave town before beating Florida State (and host a Stones concert too, but that's neither here nor there). Plus my fantasy football team (the one in the Tufts league, not the one I gave up on about nine rounds into the draft... let's face it, that one can't beat anybody but Cort) choked majorly last night. Torry Holt was having a big night, and I was on my way to being 5-1 and in first place, but then Monday Night Football decided to cruelly twist my fate, so the Colts' passing game just went nuts. Having an opponent with both Marvin Harrison and Reggie Wayne is no fun.

Oh, and by the way, I hate baseball. The Red Sox and Angels both decided to forget how to hit, so I end up looking like an idiot with my prediction that the White Sox would flop in the postseason. I don't mind seeing the Red Sox lose -- I knew all along that it wasn't our year -- but I just can't stand seeing the other Sox win. Ozzie Guillen is pretty much an idiot, Kenny Williams is barely any smarter, Carl Everett makes me lose faith in humanity, and Scott Podsednik and Jon Garland are the two most overrated players in baseball.

Anyway, I still don't think those Sox have what it takes. Anyone can look like the best pitching staff in the game when their opponents are a slumping Damon and Nixon followed by an even-worse-slumping Vlad and Garret Anderson. That doesn't mean that the Buehrle/Garland/Contreras/Garcia combo is good enough to win a World Series. I'm picking the Astros in six, although I wouldn't be surprised if the series ended up shorter than that.

Anyway, enough about sports -- I write enough of that here at Tufts anyway -- there are other reasons that October gets on my nerves. Like the fact that schoolwork is really picking up around here. Psychology reading is becoming an actual physical pain... I just can't stand to open up that god-foresaken book. Plus I have another English paper this week, and a bunch of Rousseau reading to take care of.

I just got back my first political science paper, and it scared me. My professor wrote me a 12-point list of all the reasons that my argument didn't make sense, essentially tearing everything I wrote to shreds. I then proceeded to look down to the bottom of the page (which was filled from top to bottom, single-spaced, with analysis of how horrible my paper was) to see that I had somehow managed to get a B. College makes no sense.

All bitching aside, life does have several good things going for it, I suppose.

-I get to judge the good ol' CHS debate team when they come to Harvard this year. That should be tons of fun.

-The burritos at Hodgdon, as I discovered last week, are absolutely without a doubt the greatest culinary creation in the history of mankind. Beef, rice, salsa, sour cream, refried beans, lettuce, cheese, and one humongous tortilla? Yes please.

-The latest on the governor's race in Virginia has the Kaine-Kilgore polls "too close to call." That's a moral victory if you ask me... just look at the polls from this summer, and look at them now, there's improvement. I'm not exactly in love with Tim Kaine, mind you, but he's definitely less satanic than the alternative, so I'm happy.

-As soon as the email went out last week announcing registration for next semester's classes, I whipped out a catalog and started planning things. It turns out that if I stick with the five classes I have in mind now (Math 11, History 88, intro comparative politics, intro philosophy, and astronomy), I'll have done it again. I'll have no morning classes... STILL. I really should stop bragging though... I'm bound to get shot by a jealous classmate or two. If I stick with all five classes, then I'll be off to a great start toward getting my 34 credits in. If I drop one, then I'll be (again!) down to just seven class periods a week. Tufts, have I told you lately that I love you?

-The Daily now has four Sudoku puzzles a week. Gotta love it.

-And last but not least (who am I kidding, it's obviously first), my birthday's coming. I'll be nineteen a week from Friday (the 28th). It may be the most useless age there is (it's not the driving age, it's not the R-rated movie age, it's not the voting age, it's not the beginning of the twenties age, and it's not the drinking age), but at least it's a new age. I'm tired of being eighteen.

In case you haven't noticed by now, I hate writing conclusions. So let's just say that I'm gonna go spend some time with my good buddy JJ (Rousseau). That's all for now.