If it wasn't for running

If it wasn't for running, my life would be like an episode of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. Knowing that I need to run keeps my antics somewhat in check. If I didn't run, there would be nothing to hold me back, chaos would ensue. Not only am I naturally an idiot, I'm surrounded by a supporting cast of idiots.

Down with the man.

As you may or may not know, I was lucky enough to land an internship with a local newspaper over winter break. This is a great opportunity, not only will it give me the credit I need to graduate, it will give me some real-world experience in something I am really passionate about (writing).

I have filled out the litany of forms, and gotten the countless signatures necessary to receive credit for the internship, and I thought I had gotten everything done. But as I got the last form back, stapled to it was an orange paper, telling me that before I could register for the credit, I needed to pay $333.28, as tuition for the credits.

I was, and am still, outraged at this. three hundred and thirty three dollars for 1.5 credits. I won't even be on school grounds, there is no one teaching me that needs to be paid, I'm not using up valuable college resources, I will be 90 miles away, voluntarily working for a private company that has absolutely no connection to this poor excuse for a college.

This is pure, unadulterated greed.

I don't honestly know how President Bitterbaum can look any of the students on this campus in the eye when he knows that we are all being swindled by the school and our beloved government, who despite evidence to the contrary, still assures us that they're on our side.

There's no revolution any more.

Happy to have a home

It's been four years now that I've been out of high school. Four years of not living in the house that I spent the first 18 years of my life in. Every year, when I go home for breaks, it seems less and less like my house is my home. I feel like a visitor in a hotel with really friendly owners. I come back with my bags full of clothes, and never really unpack them. My apartment at school is more my home now. But that doesn't really feel like home either. I guess in some sense of the word, I'm homeless.

The more I think about it though, this apartment is my home, I have friends here in Cortland that I consider family, people that have seen all sides of me, good and bad, and they accept and love me for it, and isn't that what makes it feel like home?

Maybe it's the fact that I'm real tired, and I had a couple drinks, and I'm listening to Radiohead that's making me feel all emotional, but right now as I look out my window at the snow falling on a cold world, it feels pretty damn good to be cozy and warm in my home, knowing that I'll wake up with people that I enjoy being around. Whatever "home" even means, and wherever it may be.

Introducing Bill Pullman

Introducing the mascot of the Not Fast Yet blog. Bill Pullman. Fan mail can be sent to silascarey@yahoo.com

I'm not even fucking fit to wear spikes.

Some might take this as a sign to take some days off, there is nothing to do but train. It's ironic that the only thing that can make running better is to run more.