Transitions...sounds like a Paul McCartney album

Hi, my name is Nathan Rose, and I am: Aggrieved with my circumstances. Sometimes the working world is a wrecking ball and your co-workers are the demolition crew. Other times this strange world resembles a rift in the normalcy of space-time, something akin to Bladerunner fused with the dwarf village from Secret of Mana.

Actually, I'm kidding. My ripe and fresh new world is the grandest place I have been, though a strange and ill-fated journey has brought me here.

A couple weeks ago, the greatest sympathies I could muster bled out of my cavernous, void, and malnourished heart for a feeling of endearment towards Jess. It's a similar feeling that I've let forth continually, semester after semester, as brave and unsuspecting newly post-collegiate young folk venture out of their dormitories and jail cells for the last time, like furbolgs exiting the mother den to raid an unsuspecting night elf encampment.

However, I feel it's time to set the record straight. The transition from college to the working world is not unlike any other transition ever faced. I have lived, somewhat, over 3,000 years and learned much in my time about "transitions". I must say, as the only one on this blog who was cryogenically frozen in 1999 AD, awoken in 5103 AD to help the futurelings combat the Cephalian menace, and been sent back in time to 1999 to save Earth from the Y2K Gorrelian face-eating virus, I am all knowing when it comes to transitions.

Just remember, if you were anything like me in elementary school, you couldn't wait to get to middle school and "grow up". Then a subvariate Beta strain of the Gorrelian virus ate your face, atrophied your entire body, and made your mind a defeated hole of self-consciousness. The virus wore off after 3 years, but its effects forever remained, and your soul was forever corrupted.

It gets better. Remember that transition from middle school to high school? Yeah, that was pretty cool. But classes were hard and the legacy of middle school remained. Your only recourse was to assemble a misfit, ragtag posse of companions and do your best to emulate the likes of Emilio Estevez, Ralph Maccio, or Patrick Swayze in the beloved classic, The Outsiders. Cause you certainly weren't going to read the book so you could improve yourself in 9th grade english.

Oh, oh crap. What about college? In my case, it actually was easier, for two reasons. Number one, I had the (mis)fortune of being completely retardified in high school by taking pointlessly overloaded courses that crippled my ability to speak or write. I consequently got barraged with C's and D's but miraculously only one F. So of course, college was easier because I was used to having an extremely heavy workload with little to no payoff. College itself became less work, with more payoff. And hotties. More hotties. Secondly, by that time I had already travelled 3000 years into the future and seen the dark vision of mankind's last battle. I had stood on the gates overlying the sea of Velnish, beside the last refugees of Cephalian War A33U9. And then I tucked tail and ran into the time transporter. Sweet irony being that I didn't land in 1950 so that I could invent rock and roll like I would have desired. Just got pooped out back to 1999 so I was just in time for college. Ech. Oh yeah, and saving everyone from the Y2K bug too. I really did that. So yeah, college was also a breeze because I had risen above present day mankind's futile purpose and become, in fact, superman. Kind.

Of.
Anyway, this latest transition is just one in a series, which you will no doubt collect all of if you die old. Unless somehow, you plan to manipulate the matrix like me and avoid marriage, kids, and grandkids. I am patiently waiting for the transition to retirement, because I think I'm ready for that. I'm just going to play guitar, and video games, and yell at kids who walk on my lawn or throw my cat. Oh, and also start up a consistent meth habit.

Singles Awareness Day is right around the corner! Half of ye take heed!
(February 14th.)

We'll be throwing a singles only party which will no doubt include a goat sacrifice to Horus, or at the very least, the eating of the chalky candy that I love so much. Details soon to follow.

A day in the life of...

Yesterday, I smashed my finger at work. It basically made all the blood vessels in my finger explode simultaneously. It actually looks really cool.
The even cooler thing is that I can't feel my finger at all. I told my boss yesterday that I would contact him if it fell off. That was after he told me I should contact him if it fell off. My boss is kind of strange sometimes.

I like pop-tarts. I generally eat them every morning. Also lately I've been eating Quaker oatmeal squares for my mid-morning brefix. This comes after my pop-tart brefix, and before my bologna lunch. The oatmeal squares aren't really that good, but they stave of my desire to declare war on the gentiles.

Usually around 10-11 once a week this gal Amy comes in. She's pretty good lookin', and always spends a great deal of time looking at aerials. She works for one of those environmental consulting agencies in town. Those are like, the only places bush-haters and femocrats work in the engineering industry. "Natural resources management"...that's the more bs form of Geography, which is the more bs form of anything more specific, scientific, and challenging. I'd give Amy more flack about it if she weren't so darned cute.

Usually closer to lunch time is when I traditionally do my posting or news-surfing. I read two real websites: CNN and wikipedia. I've learned everything I need to know about the post-tsunami relief effort, and the Carolingian dynasty. Someday I'll go back to reading Something Awful regularly, a habit that started when Mikey sent me their Linkin Park article when I was in Georgia.

Today, as it has been all week, the CD I am listening to is Pet Sounds. I haven't yet bothered to change CDs because this is such an awesome album. Plus it's got all the tracks twice on the CD (stereo and mono versions), so I only have restart it once an hour. My favorite song on there is "I'm waiting for the day" because it reminds me of stuff.

Usually once or twice a week I'll get some completely absurd call. Generally I will spend an hour or two after this call hating humanity for spewing forth the contemptuous types that call me to complain about things that have no bearing on my life, and I can do nothing, legally, to change. Were these strange callers to offer me money or friendship, I would even consider illegally aiding them. But since they are always mean and I am always nice, we can't be friends. I might consider playing golf or World of Warcraft with them though.

The first week I was here, I got a turkey. The second week I was here, I got 2 days holiday. The third week I was here, I got a day holiday. The fourth week, I got slammed with work. The fifth week, another holiday. The sixth...well, that might be this week. Or I might have lost track. In any case, now all I do is work (except when I pretend I am writing legitimate e-mails, and actually writing my post text), and all I will do until Good Friday or death is work.

Speaking of death, my finger is turning black...

Unwitty Title

I'm going to be as obtuse as possible, without being inflammatory. A tricky business, as it's been acknowledged lately.
This post is for other posters, because, unlike a lot of you, I don't care about the other people that may read this blog. If I had it my way, we'd all be posting often, keeping eachother updated on our personal lives in all the far off, ascant places that we live, and privatizing the blog.
This post is about the power of posting; and not for the sake of humoring guests with our creativity or signature coterminous wit, or retardeously awesome lexicons. It's about how I wonder what's going on in the lives of persons I consider of great import, and what's more, who I would love to hear from more often.
You know who you are, guys. Come on. It's been at most me and John posting for quite a while, and Jess steps in to give us notable knowledge about her life as well. But really. We started this blog to avoid one or two man circusry. I'd like to see a great legacy continue.
Yes, I know that I've made cries of desperation like this before, and that it seems rather silly in the public eye, but my focus is not on that. It's on you guys, and how we have a chance to avoid the one-man-band blogathon of life!

Cause let's be honest, really. Does anyone care about my little narratives or rants? No. Do I get a penny for my thoughts? No. I do get recommendations on occasion to file down the incisors of my literary jaw, but other than that (which is well deserved most times), my place here has little merit.

I am kind of like the Henry Ford of the blog assembly line. Sure, I might have gotten the idea to do this, but it's not like I was being very creative, and I don't do jack for content besides.

I'm not asking for wit, I'm not asking for sarcasm. I take care of that well enough to entertain myself. I want life, dangit!

Ok, I'm done ranting. I wanna read one of Nate Beard's stories or read Kildoo busting on the new Star Wars, or Mark talking about video games I should pick up and play, or Brooks' perspective on the pigs-in-a-blanket incident. Something, please.

I love you all.

In an effort to cheer you up Jess, and in an effort to continue the legacy of my guide to college, I will now recount to you the lessons of the year-and-a-half gap between my graduation and my getting a decent job. Hope this cheers you up.

Relationships:
-Relationships are awesome
-Girls really like a man who can please their insatiable hunger for...love.
-That's superceded by a girl's love for a man who is in the possession of (or has the apparent likelihood of possessing) enough money to swim in.

Military Service:
-There are lots of lessons I learned from my brief and amusing tenure in the US Army. The main lesson is that reclassed soldiers will pay you $20 to do their laundry.
-Oh, also, an E-Tool is not a web application.

Car Sales:
Car salesmen are the sleaziest people on earth. The only person sleazier than a car salesman is a car salesman seminar instructor. Note that during the course of 3 days I learned all the tricks on how never to get suckered into purchasing a vehicle. Bring me with you should you ever want to buy a car.

Fast Food:
Fast food is only as awesome as the people you work with and the things you can get away with...much like any job. Mainly though, if you're ever going to work fast food, work somewhere where the food is awesome, or at least not totally disgusting. Be sure to score your friends with free hookups, unless doing so would cost you your job, and you are in dire need of continuing to be humiliated in a greasy uniform for $6.00 an hour for the rest of your days.

Office Supplies:
The only thing more enthralling than working for an office supply store is to work in an office. Actually, doing both is the jackpot of true experience and enlightenment, you can surmise an understanding of uses for all things, including extrapolating on original designs and purposes far beyond the comprehension of simpletons. Having both experiences is like the Yin and Yang of the business world at your fingertips. You are the commander of the starship, and you will travel to new dimensions.

Rent:
Rent is awesome, generally the cheaper it is, the better, unless you don't like getting woken up at 3 AM by squirrels in your ventilation, or getting broken into, or having your mailbox knocked down, or having none of your appliances work, or having nasty bugs run laps in your sink.

Car Accidents:
Car accidents are not awesome. Generally, they suck even more when you have no solid income and you are borrowing the car aformentioned. I feel the same about towings/tickets/anything that involves the 4-wheeled antithetic demon of my well-being.

Water:
Hydration is the single-most important factor to your health. If you take no other knowledge from this passage, take that with you. 8 cups a day is minimum if you are sitting behind a cubicle all day. You will drink much more if you do anything exciting for a living, like excavating velociraptor bones or piloting one of Gyro Gearloose's crazy mechanical contraptions.

Maps:
Making maps is one of the most ridiculously ridiculous jobs ever. If you can ever get away with making maps for a living, do so. It's like Picture Pages on a computer. All you have to do is use a mouse, fire off a few clicks, and BAM! Awesome looking map, and everyone loves you.

Hmm, as for more general advice...really, the point of the next year is just to survive. And truthfully, I've made the same point about UNCG and even brought it up with one of the professors I still keep regular contact with-our school, and specifically, our departments, do not put enough emphasis on internship opportunities (a valuable shoe-in for future career opportunities) or job placement in general. Really it's an effort that should be made on the departmental level, professors and students need to do a better job of working with eachother 1 on 1, because a lot of it begins there. I still rely on my professors for recommendations, as well as keeping an eye out for conferences and events, academic and professional alike, that may interest me. Ultimately it's about things that will benefit you, in turn, benefitting society by making you a viable part of it.
Well, that's my piece.

I'm honoured and humbled that my presence has been missed. I suppose its true what they say... Once a Brutha, always a Brutha. This post will most likely lack my usually quick wit and charm. I am tired. If I thought 2004 was a pain in my you-know-what, then 2005 is quickly approaching equal status. Job hunting for recent graduates, well, it just plain sucks. They (UNCG and all institutions of higher learning alike) should have relocation placement efforts in effect from the moment you step off that platform. Please relocate my bank account into a higher salary bracket. Relocate me into an executive status at The Greatest Corporation in the World (TGCW for short). Shoot, lets have a job fair, interview fair, "I'll hire you!!" fair, right there in the lobby of the Coliseum. Anything. Want ads suck. Temporary agencies are the BIGGEST JOKE I have ever participated in and food service, well, we all know about food service. So, with these things said, I'm not even going to tell you guys what job I have taken for the time being. In fact I can't even give you hint. But I will tell you that it sucks allready. And I'm only making $3.00/hour (which really wounds the ego considering I use to make 3x that!). Oh, but I will mention how I found myself in this predicament. I was fired from my job at the caterer... ON GRADUATION DAY. Yeh. I went in for my shift, all happy cuz I'd just gradumacated, and what do you know, I'm taken upstairs to back room and told "We're going to have to let you go." Talk about a slap in the face. And so here I am. Two degrees, (yes, that's correct TWO) with a below minimum wage job. How is that even legal anyway?? That sever pay can be so far below the minimum?? It ain't right I tell you. Andrew (my boyfriend) suggested that I start a PAC (Political Action Coalition) to change this unfair practice. And I said, I ain't got time for that!!! I'd rather just b**ch about it and hope this doesn't last that long!! But I suppose on the BRIGHT side, I did interview for an administrative assistant type position at Grandover (and I should know if I've got the job in a week or so). And I met with the VP of HR at Weaver Investment (who in case you weren't aware, owns EVERYTHING in Greensboro)-- she (the VP of HR) is definitely someone it's GOOD to have in your corner. And she seems to like me. Though she didn't offer me a job... So, my rent is due in 2 weeks and I have less than $200 in my bank account.
PRAY. PRAY. PRAY. I need a little, no a LOT, of devine intervention.

So there you have it boys (and girls, if there are any). That's the Beamon update. Looking a little glum these days. You're probably wishing you hadn't even asked.
Here's some free advice (and you know what that's worth), if you can, put off graduating for AS LONG AS POSSIBLE. I know you think you're just itching to get out of school, but trust me, you're really not. Enjoy every single SECOND of college. The real world is NO JOKE ( and I've only just gotten a taste). And finally-- SAVE. SAVE. SAVE. Not souls... MONEY. You'll need it. Desperately. In the process of prolonging your college days, take lighter course loads, and get a J-O-B. And then don't spend the money of video games, computers and women. You'll thank yourself later.
OK well, I'm allready yawning and it's not even noon yet. Oi. Peace out my homies. Beamon

My Left Foot

Where's Jess been? I know it's been an eventful past month but I haven't seen heads or tails of her, a lack of awesome posts notwithstanding. As the only female brother she should recognize her responsibility to put the estro-injection into this sausage farm of a blog. Geesh.

I exist to ramble.

Since this blog is now getting updated on a daily basis (and by daily, I mean it's got a mean 2-days-in-a-row streak happening), I feel like I should get some more complimentary punches in before the internet police take away my freedom of typing privileges. By internet police I mean Mikey, who, though he probably hasn't realized until now, has the ability to take away my posting power with the click of a button. Such a thing can happen when blogger.com sets up the most fragile and retarded administration privileges for a communal blog. This goes without mentioning that he and I both could, by accident, delete 2 years worth of humor history with the touch of a button, never to retrieve it again from the yawning abyss to which all web-based deleted things disappear.
Regardless of the fact that we, as a blog, have continually skated near the precipitous edge of extinction, I like to think positive. Take for example, my current pwnage on WoW (That's 'World of Warcraft' for the non-nerd community, and 'Ridiculously Addictive Digital Form of PCP' for the 4 nerds in the world who haven't picked up a copy of the game yet). Every minute that I play lends me less and less time to think about the rareity of updates on this blog or the more pertinent crisis that seems to be occurring; that I have become, without question, the nerdiest nerd that I know.
Also take into account how good the rest of life is. January is now a summer month in North Carolina, and Mexican festival music can still be heard blaring loudly from the windows across from our apartment. Plus, all our literary contributors to this site are now safely graduated, except for "The Brotherhood: The New Class". All in all, it's a new year, and, well whatever. If I didn't opt to celebrate the Viking New Year instead, I'd use this time of year to look back and reflect on all of my hate crimes, bad video game purchases, and food poisonings, flogging myself in penance. But hey, if January is your time to somberly reflect on your complete lack of perfection, be my guest. I'll just be doing the same thing I always do. Not sweating it like a sack.

Untitled

On my way back from taking a wizz today, I was thinking about how I don't really like any Kevin Smith movies. I wonder how much of my demographic shares the same kind of sentiment. Maybe we've all been suckered into thinking that we have to like Kevin Smith movies because our friends seem to like them. Maybe we're all thinking they're terrible and we should go back to the iconic Pauly Shore era in an attempt to step it up.

The day that I leave town with the Yasawa Islands as my destination, is the day you will know I have left to die. No matter how much I love my family and friends, nothing is more striking of an idea to me than to go somewhere at some point in my life, giving up everything and everyone I have known, with the intent to croak more than 5000 miles from where I was born.
I choose to do this because it is said that the majority of people die within 50 miles of their birthplace. First of all, that's boring. Second of all, since I'm 100 times more awesome than the average person, it would make sense for me to be 100 times further away from home than them. I'm a competitive soul, what can I say.

I finally came up with some solid ideas of what I want in a girlfriend, should I ever need one. I don't, since I have a harem of hot hotties to do my bidding. Since the cooking and cleaning is taken care of, and World of Warcraft is better than sex, I really have no need of a significant other.
If I did though, she must:
Be flexible, with a solid bone structure.
Have a sense of humor that prioritizes blonde, lawyer, and dead baby jokes.
Be of Itelmen, Karelian, Slavic, or Elven descent.
Have a fixed goal in life that involves training dogs to decrypt dolphinspeak so that we can learn the technological secrets of our genetically and intelligently advanced underwater adversaries.
Not be flipped out and crazy all the time, or even crazy in rare torrid moments that seem to be directed towards the tendentious breaking of my fragile (ha, right) soul.

John is wit embodied. Take for example his superior ability to create away messages, so offhandedly, that strike palpably into historic legend with immediacy and precision. Sometimes I lie awake at night thinking to myself, and trying to combat John's seemingly inexhaustible flair for piercing one-liners and commendable 10-hit combos of humor seems naught but impossible. A world without John is like a world without a sequel to Mortal Kombat; void, unfunny, and containing only 7 fighters to choose from.