More to come today; here's the post I was gonna put up yesterday before Blogger crapped out on me, as it were:

Saturday. Back home. There�s really nothing quite like it. I know I�m posting this a day late, but I�m writing it Saturday, and there�s really really nothing quite like it.

Then again, most of you wouldn�t know; I�m quite alone here, with the exception of Manney and That Girl, who also got back from Wisconsin yesterday. Larson came and went, already, to the frigid north.

The ride back was good, I made small talk with the girl I was getting a ride with; it greatly helped the conversation when I pretended to know nothing of biology, her intended major. Ah, the little white lies that get us through it all.

My van was waiting for me, and the four hour drive back home was nothing. I decided that rather than listen to the radio or sing, I�d spend four hours with my thoughts. My brain decided that I�d spend those four hours with Save Ferris� rendition of Video Killed the Radio Star, as well, for better or for worse.

Whenever I managed to force the wretched song out of my head momentarily, I actually got some quality thinking done. Not about anything important, but about some practical matters of small importance to me. It�s all coming along nicely.

Bwahahaha, as they say; well, as I say, in any case.

Oddly enough, I got invited by my brother to a shin-dig at Nate Ebertowski�s house, and after driving 200 miles successful, I managed to get lost on the way here. I had no clue it was next to Henrik�s house. Anyways, when I got there, they were just finishing up a nickel-poker game, and true family form, Matt (my brother, ignorant readers) had won $4.00. I have to say that�s impressive. My brothers and I have good luck with cards.

I talked with the assorted seniors there for about an hour and a half, managing every now and then to stear the conversation away from fishing. Ah yes, and this one friend of Matt�s, who shall remain nameless because I have no clue what his name is, is �looking at Music schools� because he�s a big musical genius and all, yet had �never heard of Lawrence.� Or any of the other big music schools that Lawrence con-ies, like, say, my roomate, talk about incessently. In short, he was full of crap, and it pisses me off that he hadn�t heard of my school. Probably more than it should. I thought I had it pretty bad, what with the boredom and geographical isolation and all, but some people, I've realized, have it worse at college. Go Lawrence!

That was my jaunt into high school society for this break, unless you count my feeble attempt to do something with Manney tonight, admittedly at prettymuch the last minute. Instead, I participated in a good old-fashioned sibling Mariokart-o-rama, which didn�t mean leaving the house. We played for hours, and I had my mp3 player going in the background so as to foist my musical taste upon my brethren.

I got a call from That Girl, who seemed nice enough; needless to say our past got in the way a few times but it wasn�t that bad of conversation overrall. After� the unpleasantness� it was amazing that she could talk to me, although it does seem that I�m still the villian, that she never did anything bad to me, and that she has a compulsive need to mention her frequent socialization with the guy at her college who has a crush on her. And note that she�d say more, but that it�d just make me feel bad or awkward. I applaud her restraint.

Guys, o women of the world, are not social locusts that take everything they can from a woman then move on. Our actions are motivated by these �emotions� that you often speak of, not lust for power or an urge to taste the sweet tears of feminine sorrow. When a guy dumps a girl, he probably feels bad enough already without getting heaps of guilt dumped upon him, and, well, he may just have been thinking of his girlfriend�s wellbeing when he made the decision in the first place.

I know I�m blogging about my personal life a bit much here, and I�m sorry. But what I call passive-aggressiveness pisses me off; I can�t express why in words, exactly, but, well, it�s perverse and wrong. I try, not always successfully, not to treat people like that, and I don�t see why they should act like that to me. I hate people too cowardly to express their feelings, yet who persist in trying to hurt me, more than anything in the world.

She�s really not that bad. I always told myself that I wouldn�t use a web page to demonize anyone (how could I outdo the Kirsten infernalization, in any case?) and I�m not going to start now. I still want to be her friend, and I am, and I�m calling her Monday. We're both trying, so I should just shut up. Enough of this.

Graham is laying a trail of Turkish food and x-mas shopping to lure me to the cities, which would conveniently give him a ride home. It�s absolutely diabolical, and it�s working.

I talked to Dylan today, which was cool; everyone is gonna be back Thursday, from the looks of it. Well, this is already a long entry for something I�m writing the night before, so I guess I�ll stop. Later all.