The vain, selfish and lazy

Commitment

2010-05-03T18:44:00.000-07:00

Over the last few months, I have come the closest to being a fake 5 star recruit than I have since Kalamazoo sent me a postcard during my senior year of high school asking if I wanted to play tennis for them. Instead, I picked an illustrious college career as a flag football quarterback which sadly ended in a two point loss in the playoffs last year.

But all is well.

Law school recruiting season began over summer and ended with my decision on a school. Law school recruiting is a lot like colleges recruiting athletes, except you pay for them to reject you, or to put you on a wait list even though your Grandpa donated a metric crap-ton of dollars and there is a science lab named after you. It doesn't matter which school did that (Penn State), because I'm happy with my choice.

I held offers from UNLV, Santa Clara, Oregon, Pacific, and San Francisco, and after a trip to the campus, I decided on....

The University of Oregon.

I went on a road trip to Eugene with Jen, Robin, and Fu, and we all loved the town and campus. The facilities are amazing. The student center has a Panda Express. The law school building is big and in good shape. The football stadium is freaking huge and one of the best places to watch a game in the nation.

I know my life will be busy come August 18th. I will have to change my study habits, but I have decided that I am not going to law school to be an average student or an average lawyer, or even just a good one. I want to be one of the best, so, for my first year especially, I will be working non-stop.

It will be hard to leave Logan, USU, Jen, and my friends, but it is just one of those things that you have to do, and I'm excited to start at Oregon.

This is where I come to brag

2010-03-05T15:24:00.000-08:00

I haven't written anything for a long time. That is mostly because I haven't had anything to make you jealous. I spent the last month of my life in hibernation, fighting off the cold of Logan and the unfortunate facts and events of life and family. Logan is slowly thawing, meaning the summer (and the end of my college life) are creeping up behind us in stalking feet. The law school lines have been dormant for a few weeks (I haven't gotten so much as a telegram, or even a headnod in my general direction), and my main focus is graduating. Yes, 8 more weeks and Scott M. Ficklin will become Scott M. Ficklin, college graduate with a B.S. in English and a minor in Psychology.

But there is more. My school has a creative writing contest called Scribendi. I wrote about it last year on this very same blog. I wanted to win, but I did not. This year is different. I am (somewhat) victorious.

Some time that exists before my memory formed, my mom entered me into what I understand to be a baby beauty contest. I was awarded second place. I have enough confidence in myself to believe there were indeed more than 2 babies in the contest, so that makes me a cuter baby than at least some other unfortunate bronze medal baby.

And in fiction writing at my university, I am also 2nd. I know that sounds like I am being bitter, but I definitely am not. In fact, I've been on a creative-writing-sugar-rush all day. I did not expect to place in the top 3 at all. Not even the realization that I am the latest victim of identity theft can bring me down. My debit card somehow has managed to go on a shopping spree in California, despite being tucked neatly into one of the slots of my wallet. The girl who won first place (Vienna Goates) always writes amazing stories. We are in creative non-fiction together this semester, and we were in fiction last semester. I don't know what story she submitted, but her writing voice is always amazing, and, since she is one of my favorite classmate writers, I am glad to say I am second only to her.

I don't have the finished draft of the story, but if you want to read my 2nd rough draft, you can find it here.

http://english.usu.edu/page14202040.aspx

Law School Update

2010-01-26T17:03:00.004-08:00

Everybody knows I am applying to law school. It is all I talk about. It is all I think about. I plan my days now in ways that match how I will have to in law school. I do more homework than I need to so I can get used to the workload. I'm ready for it. Not a lot has happened on the accept/reject front yet, but I have a pretty near permanent ranking for my schools now. Of course, it is subjective. It can change based on scholarships, girlfriends, friends I have going to schools near law schools I have applied to, etc. Mostly though, I am basing this opinion on a few things. Namely:

How good the school is
How much it will cost
The ability of that school to land me a good (high paying) job right away
The ability of that school to land me a job in California, Oregon, or Washington
The environment of that school/the town it is in
My confidence that I can do well at that school
The lack of snow

...and pretty much those factors are listed in order of importance to me. So here is my list. Cue Also Sprach Zarathustra, by Richard Strauss.

1. University of Utah
-I love Utah
-Best school on my list
-cheap tuition (18,000) cheap rent
-good at west coast jobs, but not as strong as cali schools

-commuter school
-a lot of old married people with kids

2. University of Oregon
-amazing college town, sports, etc.
-I feel the BEST about UO. I don't know why
-great student body, unusually cooperative
-relatively cheap tuition, for out of staters (30,000)

-no fin aid probably since out of state is so cheap anyway
-it rains a lot
-doesn't place well in cali or washington, or utah, or arizona. just oregon

3. Penn State
-I LOVE penn state everything
-likely scholarship
-far away from what I'm used to

-far away from what I'm used to
-getting into the expensive area (33,000) plus expensive rent

4. UNLV
5. Arizona State
6. Pacific [accepted, $47,500 scholarship]
7. San Diego
8. Loyola
9. Santa Clara
10. San Francisco [accepted]

new story

2010-01-26T17:03:00.003-08:00

Just a rough draft, but here is a fiction story for my advanced non-fiction class. It might be my favorite thing I have ever written.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/25859874

What I Have Been Doing

2009-12-18T15:41:00.000-08:00

I haven't updated my blog for a long time. Nothing interesting has really happened, I have just been really busy. If you wanted to know what I was up to alllll the time, all you would need to do is add me to your facebook, anyway.

Jen came home with me to Las Vegas. She met my family, we went shopping and somehow didn't buy anything, rode the NYNY roller coaster, and went to the gardens at the Belagio. And we saw A Christmas Carol in 3D.

While she was here, I got an email from San Francisco law school telling me that I GOT IN! So I will definitely be attending law school next year. USF is woefully expensive, so I hope I can find a cheaper alternative, but USF is still pretty high on my list, even though they aren't the best school I applied to.

Pacific also sent their letter (today) and I should be getting it early next week. I am 95 percent sure that I got in, and I am hoping for a scholarship, but that isn't too likely.

That means only 9 more schools to hear from.
Penn state, Santa Clara, Loyola, Utah, Arizona State, UNLV, San Diego, Depaul, and Oregon.

Pigsick

2009-11-12T13:04:00.000-08:00

I've spent most of this week sick in bed. Yesterday, I finally went to the doctor. They took my temperature (103) and hooked me up to an IV drip for a few hours, and even after giving me 2 liters of fluid, they said I was still dangerously dehyrdated. I've since been able to keep a few liters of water and 7up down (ha updown) and can finally eat solid food. Jen has been taking really good care of me, she's amazing. I'm excited for my family to meet her over Christmas break.

Anyway, hopefully I'm good enough tomorrow to make it to the basketball game at Weber State. I already have my tickets. If I go, I definitely won't be screaming, just clapping, which will take more self control than anything I have done in my life. If I have typos here, please forgive me. 1) my brain is like warm jello right now and 2) I'm typing this on my iPod. Feel free to text me with sweet notes about gettig better, or just to yell at me for going to the game tomorrow an infecting all of Ogden with my swinage flu.

Elsie Revised

2009-10-19T14:39:00.000-07:00

I put up a story earlier that I wrote. I have since rewritten the whole thing, changed the tense, the point of view, the plot. Basically everything that I could without changing the feeling of the story. If you have time, read it and let me know what you think. Especially you Jeff.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/21309490/Elsie

I don't know why it took my italics and just made it bigger font. I'm sure you guys can get over it.

Been a while

2009-10-12T09:36:00.001-07:00

Last month, I had about 200 views on my blog. This month, 20. Why? Because I am lazy. It is in my title even. Really, look up. I haven't updated my blog for a while, so there has been nothing new to read. There are two reasons for this lack of updates, really.

I got a new blog, a better blog to be honest. I am paid to blog about Utah State athletics, and basically whatever else I want to talk about. If you want to take a look, the URL is www.trueblueA.com. It is quite awesome. My second reason is this pretty girl that I've been spending a large chunk of my days with. Yes, Scott has a girlfriend. No, you can't meet her because you are all jinxes.

Anyway, the Aggies lost this weekend thanks to three men with whistles and no knowledge of the rulebook, so I will be in a bad mood all the way up to the three day weekend. I'd love to come home, Mom, but there is a home game this Saturday. Sorry. Maybe Thanksgiving.

Elsie

2009-09-10T08:09:00.000-07:00

The assignment was to write 26 sentences, the first starting with A, the second with B, the third with C, and so on. One sentence needed to be over 100 words and one needed to be a fragment. Here is my (temporarily) finished story.

About five months ago, my husband Jack died. Back when we were dating during my junior year of college, he told me he used to write love letters to his future, unknown wife. Cleaning out the garage after Jack’s accident was too painful for me, but when my brother had finished doing the work for me and handed me a box, dusty and duct taped, I knew Jack’s letters were inside.

Despite the twinge of emotion, a yin yang of guilt and nostalgia, I allowed myself to read one letter each night before I fell asleep. Every so often I would come across a letter addressed to me, and my heart would curl into itself for protection. Four weeks had passed, however, since the last letter that began with his pet name for me, “My Dearest Wombat,” the meaning of which has since dissolved from my memory.
Golden-brown stains wilted the corners of the note I had drawn from the box tonight. His hands had obviously frequented the crease of this letter more than most, if not all, of the other letters because it opened easily in my hands- like its sole purpose was to open and close silently and without resistance- whereas the notes from before seemed to have been written, folded, and abandoned.

I stay up late thinking about you (it began), I think about your name and your hair and your face and the freckle under your eye that you have, or don't have, or used to have, and I think about our first date and our first dance and our lives in ten years if we have met by then; I wonder if you wonder about me and if you will recognize me when you meet me, or if I’ll just be some person on the street you pass, and maybe we will meet two or five or ten times before we remember we met, and when we talk about the first time we met, it will really be the second or fifth or tenth time.

Jack usually punctuated his letters perfectly (he was an English major in college), but this one seemed to be more of an unorganized poem than a normal letter. Knowing I wouldn’t make it through this without sacrificing at least one tear, or a dry sob, I continued.
Last night I had a dream about you, or I assume it was about you because the girl I dreamed of looked how I always picture you to look. Maybe you will be nothing like my dream. Nothing exciting really happened, but I feel like telling you about it anyway in hopes that it comes true.

Over my whispered voice reading Jack’s letter, I hear my daughter fussing in the room across the hall from mine. Pulling the blanket over my icy knees and making a mental note to check on her if I hear another sound, I finished the letter. Quieter, this time.

Right after we meet, we go for a walk and I ask you about yourself. “Sagebrush”, you tell me, “the rain on the sagebrush” is your favorite smell. The greens and blues of water reflecting the sky reflecting the water and the explosion of spring are your two favorite colors, but I think to myself that is more than two. Under the sign welcoming us back your street, I stop you and I say, “Elsie” (or whatever your name might be) “Elsie, I love you.”

Very carefully, I reread the last line twice in my head. “Wow,” I mouth as I swing my feet off of my bed and onto the cold, waxy wood floor. “X & Y” by Coldplay floats out of the stereo I now keep in my daughter’s room as I creak open her door; Jack used to sing it while playing his guitar to get her to sleep, but now the real thing will have to do. “You never did tell me why you liked the name so much,” I think to myself, more than to Jack, as I tiptoe towards my sleeping daughter. Zebras and hippos in pink tutus stare down from the wallpaper as I bend over, kiss Elsie on the cheek, and whisper, “Elsie, I love you.”

forgetfulness by billy collins

2009-09-10T08:06:00.000-07:00

The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Marginalia

2009-08-31T23:12:00.000-07:00

I love poetry like a fat kid loves that other fat kid who sits in the back of the class, kind of next to the window, but not always, because sometimes they get there too late and that seat is taken.

Marginalia - Billy Collins

Sometimes the notes are ferocious,
skirmishes against the author
raging along the borders of every page
in tiny black script.
If I could just get my hands on you,
Kierkegaard, or Conor Cruise O'Brien,
they seem to say,
I would bolt the door and beat some logic into your head.

Other comments are more offhand, dismissive -
"Nonsense." "Please!" "HA!!" -
that kind of thing.
I remember once looking up from my reading,
my thumb as a bookmark,
trying to imagine what the person must look like
why wrote "Don't be a ninny"
alongside a paragraph in The Life of Emily Dickinson.

Students are more modest
needing to leave only their splayed footprints
along the shore of the page.
One scrawls "Metaphor" next to a stanza of Eliot's.
Another notes the presence of "Irony"
fifty times outside the paragraphs of A Modest Proposal.

Or they are fans who cheer from the empty bleachers,
Hands cupped around their mouths.
"Absolutely," they shout
to Duns Scotus and James Baldwin.
"Yes." "Bull's-eye." "My man!"
Check marks, asterisks, and exclamation points
rain down along the sidelines.

And if you have managed to graduate from college
without ever having written "Man vs. Nature"
in a margin, perhaps now
is the time to take one step forward.

We have all seized the white perimeter as our own
and reached for a pen if only to show
we did not just laze in an armchair turning pages;
we pressed a thought into the wayside,
planted an impression along the verge.

Even Irish monks in their cold scriptoria
jotted along the borders of the Gospels
brief asides about the pains of copying,
a bird signing near their window,
or the sunlight that illuminated their page-
anonymous men catching a ride into the future
on a vessel more lasting than themselves.

And you have not read Joshua Reynolds,
they say, until you have read him
enwreathed with Blake's furious scribbling.

Yet the one I think of most often,
the one that dangles from me like a locket,
was written in the copy of Catcher in the Rye
I borrowed from the local library
one slow, hot summer.
I was just beginning high school then,
reading books on a davenport in my parents' living room,
and I cannot tell you
how vastly my loneliness was deepened,
how poignant and amplified the world before me seemed,
when I found on one page

A few greasy looking smears
and next to them, written in soft pencil-
by a beautiful girl, I could tell,
whom I would never meet-
"Pardon the egg salad stains, but I'm in love."

my last week

2009-08-15T22:05:00.000-07:00

I made a relatively spur-of-the-moment decision and went to California last week. I stayed with my family in San Diego, and basically did what I do in Vegas all day- read about/watched sports, read books (time traveler's wife and the giver), and played golf. I am getting better at golfing, but not quick enough to make me happy. My granny bought me some sweet golf shoes though.

I also bought myself some running shoes, since my old ones were falling apart and smell.

I also got a sunburn. Where, you ask? Well. My armpits and the tops of my feet. Very painful.

I don't get tan anymore.

But no matter how long it has been, the beach always feels familiar between your toes, like it has always been there and you just did not notice it the last 4 years.

Am I growing up?

2009-08-05T14:42:00.001-07:00

Lately, there have been some signs that I am indeed starting to grow up, or, at the very least, getting older. First, I have started to enjoy salad. A definite sign of maturity. Second, I tried sushi and liked it. My friends are all getting married. At last count, 14 friends who were single when I met them are either married or engaged. Some of them are not even from Utah! The most definite sign I am getting older is that I find myself checking out women with kids. In my defense, they look like they could be a sister and not a mom. But whatever.

Back to the previously mentioned friends-getting-married-issue.
Last week, I went to my best friend Kyle's wedding (my best friend is 24, which is another sign). I spent a day in St. George with Andrew, and then we drove up to Riverton to stay with his grandma for the week. We went to Midway and golfed with Kyle and his brother Jacob. I got sunburned pretty badly. I took so many strokes that my hand has a burnprint from my other fingers on my golf swing. Pretty sure my golf score is higher than my bowling score. We also went camping, but I'm not going into detail because I am in a rush to get to the next part of the story. Very funny.

After taking pictures on the morn of Kyle's day (or as I learned, is actually his mom's/wife's/sister's day more than his), I was driving back to Riverton to get food with Andrew. I took my grandma's BMW Z3, had my collar popped and my suit on, and all around looked pretty sexiful. Andrew was alright too. As we drove on I15 with the top down, some girls pulled up next to us. By some, i mean 4 very pretty ones. They were checking out the car, no doubt acknowledging that it looked good only because I was the one driving it. I told Andrew to hurry and write my number down on a piece of paper and he did. We noticed the car of girls were going to exit, so I asked if I should follow them off the exit so they could write down the number. He said no- what if they weren't really looking at us- the usual stuff when you aren't used to hanging out with the Mormon sex icon that I am. Anyway, he holds up the paper but it is flapping around from the wind and the girls can't read it. One of the girls in the backseat rolls down the window and hangs out, yelling her phone number. They are 2 lanes away though and we can't hear. In a final last ditch effort, Andrew leaned over his door and yelled (in the most desperate, but hilarious and worthwhile, voice ever) my number, but only got as far as the area code before he realized it was a lost cause.

Needless to say, he verbally kicked himself the rest of the weekend. It was worth it just to be able to tease Andrew about it for the rest of his life.

On second thought, I'm not growing up at all.

Congratulations, it's a Mac.

2009-07-17T21:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I bought a MacBook Pro. Why? Because my dell crashed and caused me to lose everything but a few songs and documents. I decided I wanted a computer that actually worked the way it was supposed to every time, and even though I have no idea how this Mac OS works half the time, it beats having Windows crash on me all of the time. So far I love my MacBook. The screen is amazing and so is the buttonless clickpad. The entire body is made out of aluminum and glass. Basically this is everything my future supermodel wife will be- thin but curvy, good with music, and the ability to instantly update me on any NCAA football/basketball score.

I was going to say something about it turning on quickly/easily, but my mom reads this, so I will pass on that part.

In other news, I have recently picked up the game (still don't consider it much of a sport) of golf. It is definitely trouble. I am addicted.

5 weeks until I move back to Logan for my senior year at Utah State.

4 months until I start find out where I get into law school.

3 weekends left until Kyle's wedding.

I had a bit of a count down going, but I am stopping at 3.

Law School- Revisited

2009-06-07T16:23:00.000-07:00

Since I have nothing better to do, I have spent a lot of this week researching law schools. I am getting my list of schools ready so I know where I want to apply in the fall/winter. I can't seem to put them in order. I am almost hoping I do not get into all of them so that my choice is a little bit easier. As for now, on this day (it changes every few hours), this is my order.

1. Utah- cheap tuition, in Utah. I don't know if I can get in though.

2. Pepperdine- tuition is something like 55,000 dollars and the cheapest apartment I can find there is about 1,000 dollars a month. However, that all seems reasonable once I look at this. Also, it is in California, so it would (hopefully) be easier for me to get a job there.

3. Penn State- grew up obsessed, seems like the obvious choice for me, but I don't know if I want to live on the east coast after I graduate.

4. Loyola- In Cali, like Pepperdine, but a lot cheaper. Smallish school in the middle of a big city (LA), and I don't know how I feel about that. I like having normal color lungs. Pro sports and a beach though... hm. I just don't know.

5. Arizona/Arizona State/ UNLV- I am hoping I get into one of the other four so I avoid these, especially because they are all relatively hard to get into.

6. BYU- haha just kidding.

6B. Everywhere else- Seattle, Colorado, San Diego, Santa Clara, Villanova, Marquette, not BYU. Although, a very nice BYU grad at Pepperdine is helping me with info about the school right now.

finally

2009-05-05T16:58:00.001-07:00

The semester is finally over and, while I am glad to be home in Las Vegas, I wish I was in Logan. I got straight A's this semester, my first time ever in college, so my law school outlook is getting better. If I keep it up, I think I will easily get into San Diego. Let's hope.

I am a sick man ... I am a spiteful man.

2009-04-29T12:49:00.000-07:00

I love opening lines to books.

I am sitting in the library, attempting to do a final essay, but I have been forced to take a break by a fat kid on a cell phone. I remember when library used to be synonymous with quiet. Apparently, that changes when you are in college. Why can't this kid just walk outside or call them back later? Or text them. That's what I do. And apparently it is impossible to whisper Spanish. No, instead it must be shouted at the person next to you to show the entire library that you know a different language.

In a generation that prides itself on multitasking, I want to be able to single task. I want to be able to concentrate on one thing at a time, like my essay, and not be forced to listen to you talking about the fetchin sweet Ultimate Frisbee game you had with your roommates last night.

Ok, back to writing.

Law School

2009-04-22T19:51:00.000-07:00

To be honest, I am not that excited about being a lawyer. HOWEVER, I am excited about law school. There are 2 main reasons: 1. I will be very good at law school. I hope. 2. Law school allows me to go another 3 years without actually having to have a real job. Hopefully. Want to hear my plan? Here it is. First, I am going to find a rich girl and marry her. If I can't find a rich girl, I'll marry a poor girl and let her work while I coast my lazy butt through law school. Then after I become a lawyer, I will work long hours for a big paycheck and let my wife do what she really wants- cook, clean, and rub my back.

Ok, not really.

Here is my list of law schools, in order as of now.

1. Utah- My G.P.A. is too low and my lsat is average, but I want to live somewhere in/near Utah. Hopefully I get in off some luck and a bribe from my rich future-wife.
1. Penn State- not practical for where I want to live, but my dream school. And I could get in pretty easily.
1. San Diego- Where I want to live, about at my level, and quickly going up law school rankings. I think I have a 50/50 shot at getting in, but the cost is about 170,000 dollars. That is 210,000 dollars than I have right now.
4. Pepperdine-Expensive, expensive, and costly, but it is in freakin Malibu.
5. UNLV- Hi mom. Thanks for the extra bedroom. Glad it isn't snowing.
6. Gonzaga- Hi mom, I couldn't stand the idea of living in the extra bedroom. It is snowing. I think. Does it snow at Gonzaga? Anyway, I can't talk, basketball game.
7. Marquette- Perfect fit for me, except it is in Wisconsin. They specialize in SPORTS LAW and you don't have to take the bar if you graduate with good grades. Downside to that, you have to stay in Wisconsin. I ain't wearin no cheese on my head.
8. Case Western- A school in Cleavland (I think?). They have pretty decent rankings and send me an email every week trying to get me to go there. If I don't get into the other 7, I figure I might as well go to a school that wants me there.

My final non-final week.

2009-04-22T19:43:00.000-07:00

So this is my last week before finals start, and when it comes around in a year, it will be my last last non-finals week. It is weird to think about. This time next year, I will know what law school I am going to (hopefully), I'll be a week away from being the first person in my family to graduate college that isn't old and saggy, and I will be exponentially less motivated than I am now.

Actually, I have done a lot of work this week. The 2nd to last week of school is the most stressful for English majors. My last week looks like this:

A 3 page annotated bibliography on Caribbean poetry
A 10 page paper on said Caribbean poetry
A 2 page paper written in the style of Edgar Allen Poe about community service
A 4 page analysis of "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allen Poe
An 8 page fiction paper (which turned out great, I might add)
A revision of my 5 page paper about Robert Frost
And finally, a notebook of all my grammar lessons. Of course, I did not keep anything organized and will be talking my way out of this one.

In high school, a teacher told me that "no teacher will let you fail as long as they know your name." I took the advice and added to it. No teacher will let me get any worse than a B- if I make them think they are my favorite. That said, most of my teachers have been amazing, and I would be super nice to them anyway (that part is in case one of my teachers happens to read this before final grades are out).

In other news, I need a job in Logan. I need ideas. I also need a work ethic.

Spring Break

2009-03-16T21:33:00.000-07:00

I am back at school again after spring break, but it feels like I never got to rest. I went to Cedar City for a writing conference, but really I just wanted In-N-Out. My work paid for it. Then I drove nine hours from Logan to Reno the next weekend for the WAC tournament, which we won. Thanks to me being there, mostly. Now I have my ticket for the USU Marquette game in Boise on FRIDAY! Please enjoy the picture of the best toilet ever made. It is at a frozen yogurt place in Logan called Tummi Yummi. Or something like that. Cool place, bad name.

music

2009-01-28T13:03:00.001-08:00

I added a music player of my 13 favorite songs. I don't know if it works because I am in the writing lab and can't listen right now. Hopefully I did it right though!

at times

2009-01-26T21:38:00.000-08:00

My roommate Kyle moved into my apartment the middle of my freshman year. I didn't want a stiff return missionary with no sense of humor and was a little annoyed when he moved in. We watched the college football national championship game together the first week of being roommates, and we cheered against each other just to be difficult. It was the beginning of a good friendship. He's been an amazing influence on me, maybe the best. We got in a minor fight, mostly due to my HORRIFIC week, and I hadn't talked to him for a week even though he lives in my same apartment still. Tonight we talked and may or may not have cried like 15 year old girls (and that may or may not be a true statement that is a little exaggerated).

He took poetry with me sophomore year and for one week I wrote down every stupid thing he said for a week without telling him. I then turned it into a poem. I know I put a poem on here already, but this one is probably my favorite.

Let your anger be as a monkey in a Piñata, hiding amongst the candy, hoping the kids don't break through with the stick

By Scott Ficklin

My roommate Kyle is an idiot at times.

However, he keeps me from being bored.

Most days I wonder what goes on inside.

“I just slapped you in the face, you stupid fly.”

“How did you like that, fly whore?”

My roommate Kyle is an idiot at times.

“I have to understand titration!” He yells as he gently cries.

I find that sometimes he’s better to ignore.

Most days I wonder what goes on inside.

There’s no Q in Mississippi, I tell him, but he still tries.

He mumbles in Norwegian between girlish snores.

My roommate Kyle is an idiot at times.

These are all real quotes from him, no lies.

His love for himself cannot be put in words.

Most days I wonder what goes on inside.

He enjoys yelling like greased up deaf guy.

His argumentative logic is, at best, absurd.

My roommate Kyle is an idiot at times.

Most days I wonder what goes on inside.

Scribendi

2009-01-23T22:09:00.000-08:00

My school has a contest each year called Scribendi. Scribendi is a (latin?) word that has to do with the compulsion to write. I entered it last year and did not win (lost?), but I am trying again this year with a short story and a poem. I have a lot of poems I wrote for poetry class, but I have a fear of editing (ediphobic?) and decided to write a new one. This is my first raw draft of it, who knows if it will change by the time I submit it (title?).

As I lay in bed this night, my brow sits sweaty my lips drawn tight
I pray for solace so I may rest
but this beast
this beast wards off my sleep

Isee it most when I'm awake
it crouches in silence
in my lover's eyes
in my sister's dead hamster
in the suicide of a neighbor I never spoke to.
but in the night,
in the night it thrives.

With a tap-tap-tap inside clenched lids
I feel its pulse beating through my finger tips
sucking my marrow, dampening my palms.
imploring me
to forge the smithy of my soul
to explore the Frosty road I did not take

I twist, I turn but it remains
scraping, claws drawn
to escape this prison
I rise to confront this beast
tap-tap-tapping upon my door
but there is no tiger
[this is no raven]
that visits tonight.

'tis scribendi
my need to write.

thank you to Edgar, Robert, and James, for without them, I could not violate and pillage their carefully pieced (words?) works of art.

The vain, selfish and lazy

2009-01-23T21:42:00.000-08:00

As an English major, I do not have enough time to read. It seems impossible but any other student can tell you they agree. Instead, I write. I write about what I feel, what I don't feel, what I have felt, should have felt, will have felt, and the importance of the use of the word "felt" instead of some other synonym. I forgot I had a presentation to give in a class last semester. My teacher called my name and I stood up, pretending to be confident. I had to explain the creative writing major to a classroom full of other English majors. I opened my mouth not knowing what would come out.
"We are all English majors for the same reason." I said.
Off to a good start, I guess, but I did not know what that same reason was. I was as curious as the people waiting to hear me explain their career choice, so I allowed myself to continue.
"We think what we have to say is more important than what anybody else says, and we know that we can say it better than they can."

My boss asked for my favorite quote to put on my bio on the writing center website (I tutor English). Eventually, I found the perfect quote.

"All writers are vain, selfish and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives lies a mystery. Writing ... is a long, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand." - George Orwell