In response to Dante's post in my guestbook... Ok moron, I like and own CDs by every band you mentioned. Just
because something isn't on this page doesn't mean I don't like it. I simply said Pink Floyd and Dave Matthews
Band are my personal favorites. If you can't handle that, then ignore it. I don't want my musical preferences
to change your life or anything, so by all means, listen to whatever you want. (By the way, I call everyone
'moron,' it's just something I say.) Also Dante, thank you for actually giving me something worthwhile to
respond to. You made my already wonderful day even better. Thank you. :þ
I hope you had a wonderful month of September. Can you believe we've already been in school seven weeks?!
Anyway, everyone go check out Dave's page.
Wednesday, September 29, 1999
I wake up. I feel like crap. I take a shower. I still feel like crap. My dad yells at me. I still feel like
crap, but a jump in my car and go to school anyway. I get half way there and get this really sick feeling in
my stomach. I pull into the Kroger parking lot that I happened to be passing and sat there about five or ten
minutes. I realized I was feeling slightly inadequate to put up with Mr. Moore and the hassles of school, so I
turned my car around and headed home. After about an hour, I felt fine, but I wasn't sure what had sparked the
sickening feeling in the first place, so to play it safe, I decided to just stay home. Now I feel fine. I feel
like playing football in fact. I'll finish this later.
Ok, I've been outside for hours, and nothing interesting happened. Well, I exclaimed "I'm stupid!" every few
seconds, but that was merely stating the obvious, so don't worry about that. Friends, loved ones, those I only
like a little, and yes, even those I really don't consider human beings (*cough* Marla *cough*), I wish you
the best Thursday you could possibly have! Tomorrow isn't just going to be another Thursday, it's going to be
a great Thursday. I hope you can all capitalize on the greatness of the day. Carpe diem!
Yes, let's all behold the power of cheese.
Tuesday, September 28, 1999
The bell rings, fifth period is over. I find out that my class is going to the track for P.E. 6th period, so
planning on passing my car in the parking lot, I grab my backpack and all my books. I then follow my class to
P.E., only to find out that the other class, not mine, is going to the track. So I ask teach to take my
books to my car. Being a great guy, and favoring his senior students, he has no problem with it. Having talked
to my teacher and waited for him to take role, I was now about five to ten minutes behind the other class. So
by the time I got to the parking lot to place my backpack in my car, the security guard was back on patrol
waiting for the next potential skipper. Of course I didn't have a note, so he calls the infamous Coach Moore
Well, being in P.E., he tells me to go back to class and see him the next morning. In the meantime, I have
planned a somewhat decent defense, and if he is the way I expect he is, he'll bend a little. And if he isn't,
well, I'll rely on one of my favorite quotes of all time: "If you don't bend - you break."
If everyone actually "treated others as they would like to be treated," how would your life be affected? Mine
wouldn't change a whole lot, except people would be nicer to me. I might actually talk to my little brother
once in a while, but currently he's a psychotic bundle of evil, aiming to destroy me and all I'm worth. I hope
you have a wonderful day, I did.
Well to cap off my wonderful day, my evil mass of shit that my parents call my youngest sibling was being a
moron (well that goes without saying) and bouncing a baseball all around me on my driveway while I was trying
to converse with a few friends. I wasn't really paying attention, just trying to get him to stop. Well, a few
moments later, after he had stopped and I had turned my attention to wave good bye to my friend Megan, he
rolls the ball at my crotch. He assumes I'm watching, but what kind of imbecile, especially male, does
anything of the sort that could endanger the male genitals?!!? After screaming a few obscenities and locking
him out of the house for a few hours (for his sake), I had dinner, sat here for about 10 minutes, and now I'm
going to bed, for I cannot endure this pain much longer. Pain normally doesn't have such an affect on me. It
hurts, but I can usually control it somewhat. But geeeeeez, that hurt.
After the latter experience, I realized even moreso how thankful I am that I've been graced with such
wonderful friends and family (save one). I couldn't have picked a better life had I been given the chance. To
my friends, much love to you all! To anyone reading this because of some unfortunate incident (lost on the net
again, eh?), I love you too!
Sunday, September 26, 1999
Let's all give Scott Siebenaler's (I'm like the only person who can spell that) lazy ass a big hand for
finally putting up a web page! It's not even a day old, so it's not much quite yet, but it shows promise. It
made me laugh and I was only there for two minutes... Oh yeah, you might want to
click somewhere in this
general area.
I was thinking to myself just now, I must be a complete moron. I've always known I was stupid and that I had
some odd tendencies, but it just struck me that I am a complete moron. I was sitting in my chair,
listening to the backstreet boys (singing along, sheesh), watching the Simpsons, all while reading Scott's
hilarious first attempt at a homepage. That's when it hit me. I'm just a moron. It's so simple that it shocks
me. I'm a happy-go-lucky moron who happens to be the nicest guy he can possibly be. Hrm, I think I'm going to
go drown myself into unconsciousness with some Pink Floyd.
Geez the weeks are flying by. Yet another Monday approaches! Ick. If you need me anytime, give me a shout.
I'll be there if I'm needed. (No really, I will...)
Saturday, September 25, 1999
Warner Robins 17
Westside 7
"The best defensive outing of the year and continued strong play from tailback Willie Reid was enough to
carry ninth-ranked Warner Robins past Westside 17-7 in a 2AAAA sub-region battle at McConnell-Talbert
Stadium." The Macon Telegraph said it best. As I said two weeks ago,
there is no stopping our Demons. Now I hate to rub it in his face, but the writer(s) at the Macon Telegraph
really stuck it to former Demons football coach Robert Davis: "The defeat made for a poor return to
McConnell-Talbert for Westside coach Robert Davis. Davis won three state and two national championships at the
helm of the Demons before taking over at Westside, but none of the old magic remained for him." He should
never have left Warner Robins. Coach Fendley showed class in his comments, but under his skin I know he wanted
to beat the Demons former leader. All men compete with each other and want to be better; it's an ego thing.
Don't deny it. If you don't then you're gaysexually homo. That's all I'm trying to say.
In other sports news, Auburn lost today (boohoo). They're schedule will only get tougher, so I'm looking
forward to Georgia and Georgia Tech football this year. Also, the Atlanta Braves are about to win their
unprecendented eighth straight division title. Yay for them.
In case it ever comes up, I'm stupid. Do not even try that approach with me, because I already know I'm as
dumb as a brick. In fact, so are you. We all are. What more are we than matter and energy acting out our
course of what we define as life? Nothing... It's all a figment of our imagination, assuming of course that it
really is our own.
I added a page just for pictures. Ef-why-eye, you will likely find very few normal
images. Remember that these pictures cannot be used against me in any way what-so-ever, for they've already
been used in every imaginable way, thus eliminating any further uses.
Friday, September 24, 1999
New quote! New quote! La la la la la la. A wonderful young lady by the name of Kyla Embrey brought these words
to my attention. Neither of us have any idea as to whom the original speaker may be, but the message delivered
was powerful enough that I felt it worthy to be read by the eyes of the many persons (all 12 of you) that
grace my page with their presence.
I added more birthdays to that page I keep 'em on. I'm such a moron that I accidentally omitted Michelle's
from the list at first. Geez. *smacks himself on the head* I added more, but Michelle is just so cool that I
had to mention her here.
If love is the answer, could someone please rephrase the question? Well, love is the answer. But while you're
waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions. Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin;
it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring. Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. Love is
so simple; love is just a four-letter word. Love is the best, most insidious, most effective instrument of
social repression. The way to love anything is to realize it might be lost. Love-
Sorry, I got a little carried away. My theory on love: Love comes to those who wait, yet also persevere. Love
not for the sake of being loved, but love for the sake of loving.
Thursday, September 23, 1999
Many things have happened the past two days. Most significantly, apparently, is the disappearance of Brad's
page. I highly doubt I have anything to do with it, but if I know Brad, he may have gotten rid of it just
because I enjoyed it. Highly unlikely, but possible. That, or Geocities could have f---ed him over. Press the
wrong button, and BAM! No more page. Who knows? Not I, so don't bother asking.
Do you enjoy critically analyzing pieces of literature and taking the meaning of every sentence ("reading
between the lines")? Finding significance in the way a piece of hair is cut or a twig lying on the ground?
Trying to work around the ten to twenty extra words that are longer than some animals lifespans in one line of
text? ME NEITHER! Think of it this way (I call it the Cheese Theory): You've got a cheese sandwich. No matter
how you look at it, it's simply a cheese sandwich. Cheese, two slices of bread, a cheese sandwich. At best, it
may be a grilled cheese sandwich. What is the significance of the cheese being in the middle? Why was the
bread cooked? I can guarantee you that the "chef" didn't make the sandwich the way he did to be symbolic or
ironic. I would guess he was hungry, and a grilled cheese sandwich sounded rather scrumptious at the moment.
As with writers. They aren't coming up with those neat little allusions on their own, they simply write
something unique that pops into their head. Given that some may write just for the sake of wondering what some
zany critics are going to pull from it. And at the very worst, some may actually sit for hours plugging in
tidbits of random other works just to drive critics and students crazy (such people should be shot).
One more day and we're through! That is, for this week. After this weekend is another week, then another, then
yet another. It's an endless cycle. I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving holidays, aren't you? Everyone prepare
for Courtney Swecker's birthday this Saturday! I don't know why, but I just remembered it. The Braves magic
number is six (muahaha, I bet very few of you know what that means).
Tuesday, September 21, 1999
Brad and I had an interesting conversation tonight. It's rather short so I have placed it here for you to read
and think what you will of it. I don't understand half of it myself, so any interpretations of your own are
welcome, though not necessarily accepted.
Strimbello: why exactly do you think that i know what i'm talking about?
jpmccord: you've always known what you're talking about... its your idea from your mind. that doesnt mean everyone else agrees with it. "you dont know what you're talking about" is just an expression.
jpmccord: (hmm, i've learned something)
jpmccord: *hides under his pillow*
Strimbello: i dont care what everyone else thinks , thats not what this about
Strimbello: i want you to stop listening to me
jpmccord: so why do you care what I think?
Strimbello: and im serious
jpmccord: ok that statement has way too many repercussions.
Strimbello: i dont
Strimbello: i care what you do
jpmccord: one, if i follow it, im listening to you, which is exactly what you dont want me to do.
Strimbello: i want you to live your life
jpmccord: no you dont
Strimbello: its come to my attention that you arent living it enough
jpmccord: hah, you have no idea.
Strimbello: everything i say is shit unless you live your own life
Strimbello: i have every idea
jpmccord: you keep believing that.
Strimbello: but they're not enough
Strimbello: nevermind...you're too far gone...it was worth a shot
Strimbello: keep following then
jpmccord: im not following
jpmccord: im merely paying attention
Strimbello: no john, you're following
Strimbello: your life isnt all your own anymore
jpmccord: blah. you just don't know me anymore, don't try.
Strimbello: you rely on what i say too much and not enough on what you have experienced
Strimbello: im sorry if the truth hurts but i'm trying to save you from placing your life in anyone but your own hands
jpmccord: You dont get it. Sometimes I agree with what you say, sometimes I disagree. But everything I say is dependent upon my experiences.
Strimbello: nevermind
Strimbello: im done
The whole conversation lasted an astonishing seven minutes. I hope I get some interesting remarks. Either
leave them in the guestbook or email them.
Monday, September 20, 1999
Icky. The weather is so appropriate for a Monday. While I love the soft sounds of a steady and slow rainfall,
it just puts me to sleep, and defines my Monday. I hope you've enjoyed the relaxing rains of today. I know I
enjoyed it most during second period.
Not that any of you care, but I've added a couple new (yet very old) pics of myself. The
first is kinda scary at first, then even more so when you realize it's me. The
second is an 18 month old picture of me with one of my dogs, Brutus (my mom named
him :). I plan on adding more of me soon - fair warning. Who thinks I should add pictures of my dogs? Let me
know by signing the guestbook; I check it too often for that to not be any new signees.
SUMMER IS OVER! AUTUMN BEGINS TOMORROW! Just thought I'd share the information. Also, I have no April
birthdays. I know there are some and I'm upset that I can't recall them. Oh well, have a great week. Monday's
over, it should be a breeze.
Sunday, September 19, 1999
Auburn 41
LSU 7
There are few things better than my team beating a team that everyone assumes is far greater. I discovered two
last night. (1) Auburn beat the snot out of LSU. (2) Auburn beat the snot out of LSU on foreign turf. That's
right. Not only did Auburn's defense put LSU to shame all night, but they did it in front of an LSU faithful
crowd. Not that I dislike LSU or anything, I actually like the team. But when they play Auburn, well, they're
going down.
Let's everyone wish Morgan McLeod a happy birthday; she turns 16 today! Yet another teenage driver to add to
the already crowded roads. Ah, the joys of society.
Before I forget, I have an interesting story to tell. Friday night I went bowling with a few friends, and
decided to invite my sister and boyfriend along (they're plans to go to Athens were cancelled, so I figured
having a couple of drunks around would increase our fun). Well, everyone's first game just sucked. We were all
throwing gutter balls left and right, so we decided to start messing around. Throwing it behind our backs,
granny-bowling.. I figured since my game was horrible at the time why not throw the ball between my legs? So I
did. And wouldn't you know it, I got a STRIKE. I bowl like hell for half an hour then I throw the ball between
my legs and I knock all ten of those possessed pins down. From there, it was a wild night.
New quote of the now up there. Just thought I'd let you know, as if you couldn't tell it was different. I also
finally updated my little IRC script thingy I play with once in a while. Now it does slightly cooler stuff
and the same old stuff slightly better. Feel free to play with it, you can find it, and all my past quotes, on
my page of stuff. I hope you all I have had a wonderful and relaxing weekend. As for me,
I look forward to dreading my week's work at school. I hope to see you there!
Thursday, September 16, 1999
I woke up this morning with a swollen throat and could barely breathe. After drinking a glass of ice cold
water, the swelling seemed to go down, but the pain didn't go away. Any movement of my throat, especially
talking, hurt. My dad's somewhat experienced in medicine, and he advised me to talk as little as possible
throughout the day. My heart sank as soon as those words were spoken, for I knew that being told not to talk
wouldn't have the right effect. (It's that reverse pyschology thing. "You can't have it" only makes you want
it more. Go figure.) Anyway, I dealt with a day full of pain and suffering, including football in P.E. I
didn't know tackle football was allowed in P.E., but it was fun. Amidst the yelling and screaming, a fellow
student of about 200 pounds knocked the hell outta me on one particular play, attempting to tackle someone
else, and the other guy's elbow crashed into my throat. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt; it was completely numb
for about half an hour. As soon as my heart rate returned to normal after class, however, the pain was back,
and worse than it had been all day. In short, I wish you all to never experience the amount of suffering I
endured today. Physical pain is the single worst aspect of life. The only pain I feel to be worse than what I
endured today would be passing a kidney stone (guys) or giving birth (ladies). I haven't had the pleasure of
either, but based on hearsay, they're pretty darn painful.
IT'S FRIDAY!!!! (Thursday night is Friday to me.) Have a wonderful day and an awesome weekend...
Wednesday, September 15, 1999
Today's topic: young drivers versus old drivers. Teenagers and old people, not like mom or dad or middle-aged
drivers, but old drivers. Granny and Grandpa, senior citizens, you get the point. I chose this topic
because I've noticed lately that as wholes, neither group is really extremely gifted in the art of
manipulating vehicles to get where they want to be.
Using logic, one might assume that ability comes with age and practice, but experience has proved that to be
incorrect (for me, anyway). Sure, teens can be impatient, ignorant, less attentive (though often more alert),
hot-roddish, and just plain stupid at times, but gramps can often barely turn his neck, drive an appropriate
speed, or in some cases even see the signs by which one depends on. By the time one reaches such an age,
he/she often is no longer mentally or physically capable to manage such dangerous responsibility.
As with any issue, it isn't only their fault. It seems that in this day and age everyone drives a certain
speed for each road, quite ofteh just over the speed limit. One would be amazed at the results if a poll were
taken to see how many people actually stayed under the speed limit, and slightly less amazed to see that
around 95% (19 out of every 20) would be old, gray, wrinkly, and/or mentally losing it. I love all human
beings and I find nothing wrong with the fact that all people age, but on the roads, no one should be forced
to deal with the aging minds of yesteryear's generations who are stuck in third gear.
I'm not angry, I'm just motivated. Last week I was driving up I-75 at about 80mph, as I normally do. I was
passing and being passed, so I judged myself to traveling at a decent speed. Well, I came up behind a very
slow car in the fast lane (traveling 55mph, which happened to be the speed limit in that area) driven by a
little old lady I would guess to be in her late sixties. I was the last of a group of cars to make it by her
before a semi truck moving around 60mph pulled up next to her. I glanced in my mirrors as I so often do, and
after about 90 seconds, still no one had passed the semi truck or the little old lady. I waited for the
traffic to come around a weak bend onto a long straight away, and when it finally did, all I saw was car after
car slowly appearing from the trees. In only a few minutes time, there was at least a quarter mile separating
my Pontiac from them. It's one thing to be stuck behind someone moving at an incredibly slow rate of movement,
but if there is another lane to be used, and it isn't being used properly, I go ballistic.
ANYWAY, if you haven't heard Lou Bega's "Mambo #5" or Fatboy Slim's "Praise You," WHAT THE HELL IS
WRONG WITH YOU!? Get out a little... If you have, aren't they the coolest? Now everyone go to Brad's page (I
added a link on the top left) and like the mindnumbed morons you are take in everything he says with an open
heart. I mean laugh histerically. I mean, um, I mean...
Tuesday, September 14, 1999
I'm sick as a @#!~ing dog. And it sucks, miserably. Whether or not that makes sense is none of my concern, I'm
hurting here. I hope everyone missed me at school today.
A new quote of the "however long I feel like leaving it there" has been placed. I felt it would fit nicely
with the recent discussion/debate, and I was planning on using it sooner or later anyway. If anyone has missed
the religious debates of the last week or so, check out Brad's page
starting with the entry for September 9th. I would recommend reading the page from day one back in late July,
but that would take you months. If you don't care about the religious debates at all, well screw you too.
Happy birthday to Anne Mantiply, who turns 17 today. I also added another birthday to my page, shared by two
people, Jackie and Jesse Pace. Is it just me, or are most of the birthdays clumped around March, June, and
September?
There was something very important I wanted to put here, and it has vanished from thought. Oh well. I want the
world to know that only one person is deserving of a "shrine" of sorts, and it's Kyla
Embrey. I don't have any idea why it's there or what inspired it; it was a simple notion that I carried
out. And Brad, I know Margaret Mitchell very well. But then again, I know everyone and everything you know and
more. Ah, the thrills of life.
Monday, September 13, 1999
Great. Just great. I caught someone's cold. *cough* You know who you are. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Anyway...
The beautiful and intelligent Kyla Embrey has responded to Brad's
comments on religion and faith, and to my surprise, she spared nothing in making her point clear and well. If
you wish to read it, it is there, but it is very long (fair warning). Here is my somewhat shorter response to
it:
While I agree with every single word she wrote, she wrote with such passion that it seemed as if she was truly
angry while writing. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't, and I realize that her intention wasn't to suggest
anger, but that's my interpretation. Nonetheless, it was perhaps the best written philosophical work of such
short length I have ever read. (This supports my theory that the greatest of intelligence lies in youth, where
doubt, rebelliousness, and just freedom of thought are dominant. This is another story in itself...). While I
felt my response to Brad rather well developed and "good enough," Kyla's was much more thorough, and seemed to
go between the lines and cover everything I left out... and then some. She not only covered everything
extremely well, but she managed to complete her task while all the same respecting the rights and beliefs of
others (namely Brad). There were four parts in particular that struck me. If you haven't read her response
from Brad's page, do so now. It deserves to be read in full, so that
you may take your own interpretations rather than just what I have pulled. However, if you don't feel like
reading the whole thing, you can read the four selections I have pulled which meant
the most to me. I'm no expert, but these are some of the most thoughtful and genuine statements I have ever
read or heard. They belong in a book alongside a list of Shakespearean quotes or something of that stature. I
really cannot find the words to describe how much this 'essay' has affected me, but it has gotten me thinking
on a whole new level. Thanks Kyla. :)
On the side, that new song by Lou Bega, "Mambo #5," is just too cool. "A little bit of Monica in my life. A
little bit of Erica by my side. A little bit of Rita's all I need. A little bit of Tina's all I see..."
It's just too funny! And the beat, well, it's just a cool song.
In conclusion, I have four main points. First, television is a pollutant. I mean, wait, nevermind. I added one
link to my collection of unique web pages. You'll have to see it to believe it. Geez, I
wrote too much today.
Sunday, September 12, 1999
Hmm. I would love to update today, but I have been informed that
Braveheart is on, and being the best
movie of all time, I cannot concentrate any longer on whatever it was I was planning on writing about. Happy
birthday to Evan Mott. I would wish everyone to have a wonderful week, but I realize the cold truth that very
few of us will actually enjoy it until Friday, so endure my friends. Endure.
Saturday, September 11, 1999
Warner Robins 23
Houston County 7
What can I say? The Demons are not a force to be reckoned with. If you're brave enough to get in our way, we
shall just bowl you over. Lowdnes County learned the hard way last week, as did Houston County last night.
Props go out to the great defense, the great offense, and Willie Reid, who seems to be carrying the team on
the ground these first two games.
Only because it is about five till midnight, I would like to go ahead and wish Evan Mott a nice 18th birthday.
Congrats! Now you can buy tobacco and porn legally anywhere in the United States! I also added a couple
birthdays on the birthday page.
Friday, September 10, 1999
This is a response of sorts to Brad's comments for yesterday, 9.9.99.
I respect the beliefs (and lack there of) of everyone and try to understand the reasoning behind their faith
(or again, the lack there of), but I also feel the need to throw in my 2¢. Firstly, I'm Methodist (a form of
Christianity, I really hope you already knew that) and I believe in God and Jesus and Creationism, so what I
say will be slightly biased. In summation of Brad's argument, read the following words, in particular the
second part: Science is proof without certainty; religion is certainty without proof. From a neutral
standpoint, religion can be viewed as something to devote oneself to, have faith in, and occupy the human
mind. Each religious group is certain that its beliefs are correct and will not accept any other way,
completely ignoring any values that bind them to allow the concepts of others. All religion has done in the
past is motivate violence and divide man (prime example, the Crusades). Man feels that in order to prove that
his form of peace is more efficient, he must destroy other forms of it.
Instead of arguing that my religion is better than yours and that I'm right and you're wrong, let's look at it
in terms of belief and truth. No matter what you believe, no matter what I believe, no matter how convinced
you are that you are right and I am wrong, who cares? Everyone is right, no one is wrong. Everything exists
in the mind and there alone, and whatever beliefs are prevelant are truth in that mind. If beliefs change,
the former becomes false and the new becomes truth. Think of it this way: When you were seven, you believed in
Santa Claus, and as long as you kept that belief alive, Santa Claus was real to you. When you were finally
convinced that Santa Claus did not exist, you were at the same time convinced that he never had existed, and
therefore, all previous beliefs on the subject had been reversed. The same thing goes for all else in life.
However, one does not deserve condemnation for believing in false truths. A little push in your direction
could never hurt anyone, but don't be forceful. The altercation of one's beliefs is a very difficult task to
undertake.
Two interesting lines can be taken from this passage:
(1) Science is proof without certainty; religion is certainty without proof.
(2) Everything exists in the mind and there alone.
Let those thoughts sink in over the weekend.
And with that, I'm off to a football game (if I feel like spending seven bucks). Tonight my Demons play the
county rival, the Bears. GO DEMONS, kick some ass. Root for #6.
Thursday, September 9, 1999
Nine Nine Ninety-Nine. To my surprise, I only heard that about ten times today. It's a good thing to, for I
had set the limit to twelve before blowing up an unused portion of the school in order to strike fear into the
hearts of students and mothers all over the nation, yet not to harm a soul. It's such an awesome plan, that I
may yet go through with it. (Anyone who takes this seriously should seriously be shot.)
I have added yet another picture to my collection, and yes it is another female. (They're knocking down doors
just to be on my page, how ironic.) Candace Poole is the lucky lady this time. I'd like to take this song to
dedicate a song to her. It is Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings." If you haven't heard it, listen to it.
That's what Candace means to me.
Also ponder these words, spoken by the magnificent Bill Vaughan:
"If there is anything the nonconformist hates worse than a
conformist, it's another nonconformist who doesn't conform to the prevailing standard of nonconformity."
Tuesday, September 7, 1999
Judging by the amount of sun she received, I would guess Liza had a nice 17th birthday yesterday in Florida.
Evan Mott has a birthday coming up this Sunday, so keep that in mind when your guilty conscience reminds you
again and again that you should have gotten him something nice.
After a few second (and third and fourth) thoughts, I've ditched the Rants & Raves page. By a special request,
I'm replacing it with "Need Help?", a refuge of sorts for unraveling the many
complications of life. In short, it's an advice column. It's experimental, and I'll anonymize any entries you
so desire, so as not to give away the idiot who couldn't figure it out for him/her-self (meant to be taken
gently with a glass of water).
Sunday, September 5, 1999
Here's my Saturday: From about 10:00am till about 2:00pm I watched my dad take apart my computer and put it
back together twice, trying to install a hard drive. He knew what he was doing, as did I, and I offered to do
it for myself many times. He just doesn't trust me with a $1500 machine :). He got everything installed and
running great, and then has no idea how to get it to actually work on the computer (it is running, but it is
not working. follow?). This is my strong point: diagnosing the computer's problem, assessing my options,
fixing it. However, I had to leave for Atlanta for a Braves game. The Braves lost, and I had an empty seat
next to me the whole game *snif*. Oh well. My brother and I didn't so much as disagree over anything the
entire day (10 hours with that monster, and not a problem), so for the most part I was pleased. Anyway, back
home around 1:00am. I sit down at my computer, diagnosed its problem(s), assessed my options, and had it fixed
in 15 minutes. After 17 hours of being awake, I decided it was time to call it a day.
On to more important things. Happy birthday to Amelia Griffith (15 yesterday) and Jessica Deckert (18 today)!
And because it is nearly midnight and I probably won't be around tomorrow, I'd like to wish a happy birthday
to Liza Moller, who will be 17 tomorrow. In return, I ask that you all remember my birthday (July 18) in the
middle of summer when you're all on vacation and I'm the last thing you want to think about. Speaking of
birthdays, I felt almost compelled to whip up a birthday page. It took almost no time at
all, and it's Sunday afternoon, so I felt "why not?". Anyway, if I left you out, or someone else that should
be there, let me know!
I'm going to a river about 15 miles northeast of Macon for most of the day tomorrow. I'll be hanging around a
really cool girl, Lindsay, whom I've met few times before (twice at the river, and we had a great time at the
Braves game last night throwing peanut shells, and occassionally whole peanuts, at random people). If I drown
or hit my head on a rock or something, I love you all and good-bye. Chances are good that I shall have no such
luck, but just in case.
And if you haven't noticed, there's a new Quote of the Now. Feel free to send in your own quotes for
consideration at jpmccord2@geocities.com.
Friday, September 3, 1999
Ah, Friday. You just don't know how much I look forward to those six letters each week. I myself can barely
comprehend the extent of my relief each time the day rolls around. After a week of reading, working my ass
off (yes, I'm actually doing my work this year), and getting an average of four hours of sleep per
night, I am eternally grateful to he or she whose brilliant thought it was to take two days out of each work
week, thus the concept of weekends. You and I, and millions like us, owe someone (who's name will remain
undisclosed) a great debt of gratitude.
Well, my weekend is set. Do homework, go easy Friday night. Atlanta all day Saturday, including a Braves game,
and then relax on Sunday. As for Monday, I plan to relax and ignore all surrounding events for an extra day,
though being one of my very special friends' birthdays, I may do otherwise. Also, to my knowledge, we still
have an extra ticket to the game, and if you would like to be considered for the seat, contact me by phone as
soon as possible. :)
By popular demand (a whopping two people), I have decided to add Dave Matthews Band stuff to my
Music page. Nothing is there as of yet, and probably won't be for a while, but plans
have been made. Also, while I'm thinking about it, I have added yet another lovely face to my
Friends' page, that of Kyla Embrey.
Random thought: Calculus. I'm not trying to frighten you out of taking the class, but I'm trying to encourage
you to take it either. Calculus requires lots of time on a daily basis, doesn't get easier, and it
requires that you retain all learned material from past and present courses. I've loved math for as long as
I can remember, and though I seem to be enjoying Calculus somewhat, it is much consuming of my precious time
and energy. However, it is required to be taken in a great number of fields of study in college, so it's not
all for nothing.
Thursday, September 2, 1999
I was thinking just a few moments ago about the first love of my life. Her name was Kristina Rutley (I'm sure
some of you remember her). Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. It was mostly seventh and eighth
grade, and every day after school I would go to her house, or if she decided to go to her best friend's house
(hey Liza!), then I would go there. For as long as I had known her she was going out with someone else
(verbally, not physically to my knowledge), so we never so much as even kissed. But we held hands quite often,
had long conversations about everything and nothing at the same time, and up till about eight months ago, we
till talked to each other hours at a time when we did speak. The last time I spoke to her was January 2; it
stopped abruptly. No warning, no reason. She just kinda disappeared. Never in my life was I so devistated than
when I lost her (for the second time, she moved to Massachusetts in the summer of 1996, ironically the same
year I went on a vacation to Massachusetts with my best friend Zach). I rarely spoke of Kristina, I kept my
friends oblivious, but they were friends just the same, comforting me when I needed it most, and helping me
pull through. And for all my joy and pain and envy, I must remember that what once was lost, I had found, and
now I must find it again. Kristina, if you're out there, I still love you, and I always will.
On a brighter note, I've added another beautiful face to my Friends' page. I can't
think of any other magic work I've done, and I don't feel the need to share anything more, so I bid thee
farewell till we meet again (which will be tomorrow or I shall bid thee pain and suffering).
Wednesday, September 1, 1999
If you're wondering where my wonderful links to my wonderful friends' web pages are, they have been exiled
from this page, and now reside on the Friends page, where they shall be forever
overshadowed by the magnificent beauty of such women as Ashley and Liza (last names omitted for fear of 16
months of being ignored).
I've redone the Web Links page. Instead of pointless, boring links to random web sites
that may induce severe mental illnesses, I now link to pointless, boring links to random web sites that may
induce severe boredom (and/or laughter, if you're really bored).
Ok, as opposed to Brad's "What the Fuck" page (I really hate using such coarse language, but I'm quoting), yet
still strikingly similar, I have added a Rants & Raves page. Simple as this: you will
email me a rant about something or nothing in particular, I will
put it on the page if it's worth putting, and see what kind of response it gets. Hitting big issues such as
sex, drugs, and incredibly gay school rules are probably a good way to get some wild responses.
A word, if you may, on 'Bradism,' a word I've coined to describe the cult of followers of Brad the Martin.
First of all, the man is doomed to suffer a quick and painless death whenever whatever beings that sent me
here instruct me to perform my duty to them (or kill Brad, basically). But until then, I want you all to
follow Brad. Believe in Bradism. Well, I guess it's kinda of a round-about way of saying this, but the point
I'm really trying to make here is:
VIOLENCE IS INDIFFERENCE YOUTH IS INTELLIGENCE BELIEF IS HYPOCRICY
Just my Orwellian take on Bradism as a whole. Take no note of this whatsoever. In fact, print this page and
burn it.
Upcoming Birthdays: Amelia Griffith is celebrating the 15th anniversary of her birth this Saturday, the 4th,
ravishing Liza Moller is commemorating another birthday, her 17th, on Monday the 6th, and Anne Mantiply is
celebrating her 17th birthday on Tuesday the 14th. Anyone I left out? Let me know, and I'll tell the world!
If you haven't already, sign my guestbook.
It's not for me, but that's all the action that guestbook will ever see, and without signing it, you are
depriving it of the pleasure rightfully due. I've said my piece. Good day.
