that David played, and it pleased the Lord...

Day 2. Already that breaks my record for consecutive posts in a blog. How sad.

A friend told me I should put together an online journal (I will henceforth refuse to refer to this as a blog, and use the abbreviation OJ when discussing the writing I put here.) so other people would know about what goes on in my life while I'm here at college. And the thought crossed my mind: 'Who cares?' I have this linked from my Instant Messenger Profile, but I can't imagine anybody making the effort to read through the long paragraphs I put in here.

I'm not your typical online junkie. I embrace proper grammar. There's nothing I can't stand more than seeing "btw, u hav 2 get it" when I peer over someone's shoulder to see what's going on. That's not English, and it will do nothing but further degrade the quality of English, spoken and written, by the youth of this country. Even as early as a year ago, you could hear "bee-ar-bee" and "ell-oh-ell" in the lunchroom. These are not words. When I instant message somebody, I won't use proper capitalization, due to the extra keystrokes, but I never fail to attempt proper grammar and spelling.

Tangential. Not a surprise when it's my writing you're reading.

I doubt you've read this far, if you've read any of it at all, but I'm going to keep typing anyway. And maybe you'll catch a glimpse of what it's like to be in my size eleven shoes.

Today was Yom Kippur. It didn't affect me directly, as I'm Catholic, but there are two Jewish females on the floor, and they invited the entire floor to break fast with them at Bertucci's over in the Longwood Medical Area. It was a good time, twenty-seven people had a nice meal, dressing up for the first time since moving in on the third. I wouldn't even report this to you guys except for one small detail: a T token.

I hadn't any, and I chose anyway to ride the T back to Northeastern. This left me in a bit of a dilemma, as inbound trains cost money until Symphony Station on the E train. A girl from down the hall, whose name I don't feel I should release, offered me a T token. I took it, grateful, and proceeded with a few others to the T station a couple blocks away, having promised to return the favor upon arrival back at the dorm.

Well, here I am, two to three hours later, and I still have the compensatory token in my pocket. Don't get me wrong, I did get caught up for a lengthy amount of time following the Red Sox game, which the Boys in Red won, 12-5. But there is another reason to my delay in the return of the token.

I like this girl. She accompanies me to Mass on Sundays, and really seems interested in my Archdiocesal issues. And as corny as it sounds, I just enjoy listening to her. I'm not going to try to wax poetic about it.

I've gotten up to try and return the token and ask her out a couple times, but chickened out each time so far. It's like I'm back in fourth grade, trying to muster up the courage to leave a note on a desk two classrooms away. Some girls would call my hesitation and anxiety 'cute' or 'sweet', but I find it to be a nuisance more than anything.

I'm only so transparent. You know who you are, and I hope you read this, though I don't expect it, cause nobody reads these things.