Wednesday, September 27, 2006


At 1:00 AM ET, my Oakland Athletics officially became your 2006 American League West Division Champions with a 12-3 win over the Seattle Mariners while the LAAAAAAAAA lost to the Texas Rangers, 5-2.


Possible matchups: A's/Tigers, Twins/Yankees. And that's fine with me. Just fine. Let the Yanks handle the HorrorDome.

As for the Cardinals.... ugh, the Cardinals. Seven games lost off their lead in seven days. Don't even talk to me about the Cardinals....

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Well, Feh.

Despite all my yelling and shrieking, the A's did not, in fact, clinch their division today with a win over the hated LAAAAAAAAAA at home. However, I do still think that it will happen, as they are still 6 games up with a magic number of two and will next play the Seattle Mariners for three games before heading to Wahnaheim for a four-game closing set. Holy crap... this is the last week of the regular season. Where does time go?!

The A's own the Mariners, so the deed will get done soon. However, I'd appreciate it if they'd stitch things up so they can go into Anaheim and play four totally meaningless games. They can rest their regulars, organize their rotation for the playoffs, and not care if they lose all four, while the LAAAAAAAA have nothing to look forward to except a really nice golf course.

However, I am still going to buy my A's 2006 AL West Champions shirt as soon as it comes out. So, if they'd oblige me and seal the deal so that can offer up the necessities, I'd be much indebted.

I should probably go and work on Section Two of Feuerbach's Essence of Christianity now. It's conference work for my philosophy class. At Sarah Lawrence, instead of finals, you do a "conference" or end-of-term project (usually a research paper) that takes some topic you've studied throughout the semester and develops it at length. Serious length - usually about 20 pages. So, for philosophy, I am studying Descartes' proof of God's existence and Feuerbach's rebuttal of it. Not sure yet how that's going to develop into a full-fledged paper, but I've got time.

My next post will not be until the Oakland Athletics are your 2006 American League West Division Champions. So, take that under advisement.

Saturday, September 23, 2006


Nothing coherent to see here, folks. Really. Or maybe in bursts, but you'll have to deal with the fangirl raving in between.


4-4 A's/LAAAAAAAA. Bottom of the twelfth inning. An overused Huston Street coughs up the tying run in the ninth. Kiko Calero gives us two valiant shutout innings. Then Gas Can Halsey bestrides himself to the mound, causing the A's faithful to quake in fear. He pours the gas, but Juan Rivera helpfully snuffs


it out with a double play to end the inning. To start off the bottom of the twelfth, Bobby Kielty doubles, a Jay Payton grounder moves him to third, and they intentionally walk Swisher to get to Marco Scutaro, Oakland's valiant little man in the clutch.


And he gets up there and does his thing. Single, McAfee Coliseum goes fucking nuts. The A's win it, 5-4, putting them in position to clinch the AL West with a win tomorrow.


Gaah. I was shaking and freaking out in my dorm room, and barely restrained myself from screaming at 1:45 in the morning. Baseball. You break my heart and put it back together in the same evening. The A's give me a baseballgasm and they'll call back tomorrow. You, my babies, are all the real man I need.

For Christ's Sake, Somebody Change The Mother Effing Tape

Some baseball-related deity up there really, really hates me.

Situation: Cards 5, Astros 2. Adam Wainwright has just blown through a perfect and spotless 7th inning in which he has struck out 2 of the 3 batters he faced. So he goes back for the eighth. Gets into trouble straightaway. Gives up two runs - although the ump did screw him like a drill on one call to Biggio, which should have ended the AB before he had the chance to get that RBI single. They pull Adam for Tyler Johnson, who executes a Houdini-like bit of wriggling to get out of it. God, the nightmares I have about the bottom of the eighth inning at the fucking Juice Box in Houston.

Then Braden Looper is put in to hold a slim 5-4 advantage in the bottom of the ninth. Fat Elvis Berkman isn't involved this time, but the outcome is the same. Looper, abruptly realizing that he's supposed to suck, lives up to his billing and blows it. 6-5 'Stros is your final.

I don't have anything else to say. St. Louis Cardinals: Your 2006 NL Central Winners. By default.

Friday, September 22, 2006

An Addendum to Agony

Posted after a little time to chill out, talk to my sister, and get myself psyched up about playing softball for the SLC Gryphons. Which is going to be awesome.

I own two Cardinals T-shirts, one Wainwright and one Carpenter. I usually wear my Wainwright T-shirt to bed, but tonight I'm going to wear Carp. Just because I still love him, even after a really tough outing. The precise reason that this was so gut-wrenching to watch is because you know it didn't have to be that way, because it usually isn't. Chris Carpenter is a stud and he and Albert Pujols make me proud to be a Cardinals fanatic.

I've had some time to mellow, and while this loss is still awful, it'll be okay. It really will. We're still going to clinch the Central, and if that's are far as we go... well, that's okay. No one's really expecting us to do anything else, and if we do go farther, I'll be ecstatic. But I can't help but love them, and that's why baseball rocks my little world.

I'm going to peace out and get some sleep, because I have class early tomorrow and it's philosophy, I want my mind to be fresh. So to bed I go, and I love my Redbirds, because I can't do anything but.

My Heart Has Been Torn Out Of My Chest, Stomped On, And Eaten Raw By Cannibals Before My Eyes

Sports fanaticism is not a good thing for a person. I mean it. The emotional turmoil it puts you through is just too much.

Earlier today, I was riding pretty high. Rich Harden came back to make his triumphant return for the A's after eight zillion years on the DL, and pitched 3 innings, allowing 2 hits, 1 run, and racking up 7 strikeouts. That's right - 7 of his 9 outs were of the K variety, and his only mistake was grooving a straight fastball to Grady Sizemore, who's a good player and doesn't miss it when you put it right in his wheelhouse. Other than that, everything was sunshine and warm fuzzies in Oakland today, as the A's took 3 of 4 from the Chief Wahoo Crew and cut that ever-important magic number down to 4, sporting a 7-game lead as the LAAAAAAA roll into town for a three-game weekend set. If the A's win two of three, they'll get to clinch on their home turf in front of their biggest rivals. Ahhhh, that would be so wonderful.

So why the nihilistic title? Mainly because tonight's recent events have me feeling as if exactly that has happened to me, maybe even adding a sledgehammer into the equation somewhere.

Situation: Cardinals have a 5-game lead in the NL Central, with the same magic number. They're not playing that well, but it's all right; there's nobody playing well enough to challenge them and they're going to take home the hardware eventually. So why the pain?

Let's start by setting the scene. 5-4 Cardinals, bottom of the eighth, two out, man on second. Chris Carpenter is trying to gut out one more out after a (for him) subpar outing. He's given up 4 runs already, two of them coming on a home run by Lance "Fat Elvis" Berkman, who has always hit Carp well and who was the author of the blast that put the 'Stros ahead in NLCS Game 5 last year before Prince Albert worked his three-run walkoff magic against Brad Lidge, who's never been the same since. (See: Jose Alberto Pujols is God. Amen).

And for some reason, Tony La Russa had a total brainlock and didn't walk Berkman. First base was already open. Carpenter sets him up with a steady diet of cutters, runs a two-seamer in, and gets to 3-2. I'm dying. Carp throws the cutter again, which Berkman was either sitting on or has hit Carp well enough to guess his pitch selection. Takes it downtown. 6-5 Astros, just like that, and the Cards go quietly against Dan Wheeler in the ninth, Phil Garner not being a brave enough man to risk Lidge against his personal pack of nemeses.

So why the pain? A) I want more than anything to see Carpenter take home his second straight Cy award. His numbers are outstanding by any yardstick you use, and he's top of the heap in pretty much any category. After that loss, he's even still 15-7 with a 2.93 ERA. But as the NL Cy race is a two-horse contest between him and Brandon Webb of the D-backs, he needs absolutely everything he can get.

Secondly: Home-field advantage is incredibly important for the Cards in any playoff series, and they need to keep winning (and have the Dodgers and Padres lose) in order to secure it. Carpenter is a manbeast at home, registering a 1.46 ERA, but he's more human on the road, even mediocre, posting a 4.52 mark (that's undoubtedly gone up after tonight's debacle). Having him start the opening game of any series at New Busch is something that the Cards desperately need, especially as their rotation after Carp is pick-and-choose junk. Suppan has been very good, with a 2.27 ERA since the break, but after that, you descend into the wilderness of Reyes (wild, tendency to get pounded) Weaver (spotty and totally unpredictable) and Marquis (total worthlessness). They need to jump out to that early lead to hang on with whatever they throw out there.

And for purely selfish reasons, this loss feels like a kick in the gut. I'll admit it, I fucking love Chris Carpenter. I must have a thing for tall, gray-eyed, unbearably adorable Cardinals power pitchers, who possess ERAs of 2.93 and 2.92, respectively, and are the aces of a) the rotation and b) the bullpen.

If you guessed Carp and Adam Wainwright, you are, naturally, right on the mark. The two Cards shirts I own are #29 Carpenter and #50 Wainwright. Carpenter became a desperate favorite of mine this season, for whatever reason, even after his Cy campaign last year. Maybe it's his sensational smile and nice-guy demeanor, the fact that I love to watch him baffle hitters, or simply that I'm blindly biased in a pro-Cards direction, but I freakin' adore that man. He's a stud. Even tonight. Watching that happen - especially since the whole of Cardinals Nation was screaming for an IBB of Berkman and Tony completely missed the memo. It didn't have to happen. Luke Scott, the hitter right after Berkman, popped out on the second pitch he saw.

Complete game from Carp, giving up 2 runs to people not named Lance Berkman. He's the only hitter on the Astros, and he knows Carp well - as demonstrated. Absolutely no reason to pitch to him in that situation, and despite all La Russa's assurances that he's not trying to pad Carp's case for a repeat Cy, I have to wonder if there was a little of that going on tonight.

I know that Carp's the ace, but Berkman has his number. Ackn0wledge that fact. Since Adam was anointed the new closer after Isringhausen's departure, if you absolutely must pitch to Berkman, then put Adam in to do it.

This one hurt. This one really, really hurt. The Cards will clinch eventually, but it would be bittersweet if it came at the expense of home-field advantage and they went out quietly in the first round.

Crawling-off-and-crying time now.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Let The Salivation Begin

So the Colorado Rockies, apparently heeding to my very whim, have decided to put out a preliminary PDF of ther 2007 home schedule. I, being the maniac that I am, scanned it eagerly, to plan what games I'm going to go to next summer once I get home from college.

I came up with a list including the 4-game St. Louis series at the end of May (oh thank you, Scheduling Gods, for putting it there and not sooner, as my last day of class is May 11 and I'll fly home later that day). I have to wear my new Adam Wainwright T-shirt somewhere, right? And where better to do so than to a season-inauguring set between the Rockies and Redbirds?

(Disclaimer: Although I love the Rockies, who won me over this season, I adore the Cards, and I can't possibly root against them. All other games you may see me at, however, I'll be rooting for the Rox).

If I can make it to one of the Yankees games, I will (read: Wednesday night, as on Wednesdays, Coors Field gives away a voucher for a free ticket to every female through the gates) solely for the purpose of booing A-Rod. But those would be a madhouse and I'd probably be lucky to get tickets even if I booked them now. And I'd go and root like hell for the Rockies, because despite my four-year transplantation to New York, I still don't like their baseball teams any better.

After that, I'd like to catch the Reds, the Astros, and any others that I can manage, winding down to August 8, 7:05 PM against the Brewers. Why the Brewers, you ask? Well, because my sister and I went on August 2 of last year, Rockies vs. Brewers, for the last game of the season (well, our season, since both of us had commitments afterwards). It was one of the best nights of my life and just the thought of doing it over again in '07 gives me the shivers.

What I really need: a Rockies hat.

Speaking of Colorado, I miss it. A bit more than I expected, actually. I'm not that homesick, and I love my school, my classes, my profs, and basically everything else, but it rains too damn much in New York. I miss Colorado blue sky, mountains, and crisp days and nights (the humidity here is quite something new). I also miss the Rockies. My summer spent in their company was one for the truly awesome annals. Even though they're out of the race and spent most of the past two weeks shitting the bed, I am desperately eager to get back into their company starting May 28, 1:05 PM against the Cardinals.

On another baseball-related note, ESPN Page 2's "Hometown Bums" feature, mimicking MLB's "Hometown Heroes," is just about the funniest thing I have read in my life.

The Hometown Bums. "How come Jose Mesa is listed for only three teams?"

BWAHAHAHAA. As a Rockies fan, however, that stings a little too close to home. God, if I could count the years off my life that I've wasted watching that man quote unquote pitch... I also think it is vastly amusing that Dan O'Dowd is listed as a Rockies nominee. Seeing as he, along with Republicans, is also a running punchline in my house, it's got to be him. He was the, cough cough, "genius" behind the assorted fiascos that have characterized the Colorado franchise since they hired him.

The Hometown Bums ballot. I love it that A-Rod is present under both Rangers and Yankees. To be fair, he was less of a bum in Texas than he was in New York. Either way you slice it, can't stand the guy.

From an A's fan perspective, got to be Jeremy Giambi. "SLIDE, JEREMY, SLIDE!" Ahh... if you don't know what that means, you have not suffered enough to be an A's fan. I doth decree that you shall be exiled into the deserts of Red Sox/Yanks fandom for forty years.

From a Cards fan perspective: Mark Mulder. I loved the guy to death when he was with Oakland, and was heartbroken when he was traded. However, he has done some major pooch-screwing in St. Louie, isn't getting any better, is hurt and doesn't appear to know why, and generally appeared to fall off the face of the earth once Billy Beane gave him the boot. Besides, Danny Haren is one of my favorites now, and Kiko Calero is a member of the unstoppable bullpen troika (the other two being Justin Duchscherer and Huston Street). This trade was a major winner for the A's.

I've done my homework for the evening, so I'm generally wasting time on the Internet. Maybe I'll go see if someone emailed me. I don't think that my family emails me enough. They apparently disagree.

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Confessions of a Music Freak

I have to admit. I am freaking addicted to music. My iPod is my life, filled only with my 700-odd handpicked songs, the ones that I love and can play over and over, and often do. Whenever you'll see me, it's often with a pair of little white buds plugged into my ears, and my head bopping wildly as I respond innately to the chords floating through them. Therefore, this leads me to a confession:

I have got to stop buying new music on iTunes. My debit card account is not infinite. But there's so much great music out there, and I've already bought other things or two, not to mention I really want to save money for whatever infrequent jaunts to NYC that I can scrounge up on an extremely limited budget, aside from having little to no knowledge of the train system and how to get around. But what can I say?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go download the Kingdom of Heaven soundtrack.

Brokeback Mountain

So I finally watched it. This has been one episode that I have been planning with Machiavellian precision ever since before I'd left home. I wanted to see it but I didn't think there was any way I could sneak an R-rated "gay cowboy" movie past my parents, who are cool on some things but a bit more tetchy on others. So, I decided to wait until I was at school, which, obviously, is where I am now. I bought the DVD for less than $10 off Amazon, got it today, and stuck it into my handy-dandy laptop, which plays movies in addition to being, well, a computer.

I was blown away. I came into the film with high expectations - everyone and his brother talking it up and it sweeping practically every awards show that it encountered. But... well... wow. I finished it about 15 minutes ago and I think the real weight of it is just hitting me now.

Confession. Guys think that girl-on-girl is pretty fuckin' hot; well, it's the reverse for me. I happily admit that I find guy-on-guy incredibly sexy. But that is entirely not what BBM is about. There's only one sex scene between the protagonists, and then tastefully shot with no nudity at all, mostly in the dark. BBM, as just about anybody with an Internet connection to IMDB knows, is not about that. It's about love - real love, the kind that we only get (or give) once in our lives, and how there was tremendous pressure on the cowboy main characters to "conform," to live normally, to marry and have kids, when what they really wanted (but could never admit to) was a life with each other.


At the end of the film, when Ennis calls Lureen to find out what happened, and then later goes through Jack's closet and finds the bloodstained shirt that he kept all those years, my heart was just breaking. Heath Ledger did a marvelous job at portraying the emotions of a character who thought that he wasn't allowed to feel them, and my entire thoughts through this five-minute-plus scene consisted of, Oh, Ennis. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That and sobbing my eyes out. It was a good thing that I was alone in my dorm, or I'm pretty sure that anxious questions would have been levied. Fortunately, one roomie's off with her boyfriend, and the other went to a volleyball game.

So, yeah. Nothing else to say in this post but, holy crow. I'm watching it with my sister when she comes to visit me in November, and I think she's going to like it almost as much as I did.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Articles of Interest

Let us put a face to the shadowy Internet presence with Ethernet connection and Inspiron laptop. Let us plumb the darkness of ignorance and this black template thing that I've got going on. Let us strip aside the flesh and excavate the bone, let us dig into the cadaver and --

Let us get off this particularly undelightful metaphor and do the introduction, shall we?

About Me. I am eighteen years old and a woman, although on occasion I have been mistaken for being a) in my mid-to-late twenties and b) a boy. In my defense, I am not boyish-looking at all, but I am five-foot-ten and broad-shouldered, and at the time of the sad misidentification incident(s), I was usually wearing some piece of disguising clothing such as a ski helmet and goggles, and/or a bike helmet and sunglasses. Must be something about the protective gear.

I like music - in fact I can't live without it. I like chocolate, as most everyone with two X chromosomes does. I write because it is my life and the words would never leave me alone if I did not. I architect and manipulate and sculpt and battle. I love the English language, with the way you can piece it together into poetry like turning a kaleidoscope, and I believe there is a special place in hell for people who write "alway's fresh" on grocery-store signs or "As it looked around, it's eyes flared" in schlocky fantasy novels. I am an apostrophe defender, a grammarian warrior, and have adopted Lynn Truss' zero-tolerance policy toward punctuation. Do it right, the end.

I am deeply in love with baseball for reason having nothing to do with a) an interest in other women, or b) a fervent desire to get the players drunk and then sleep with them. Don't get me wrong, I definitely appreciate the aesthetic aspects, and there are some players that I would go for - but only if they talked to me first. ;) I am not a slut. I don't drink, do drugs, or smoke. However, when I fell for baseball, I was seven years old, far too young to notice such things as the fact that Brad Hawpe has a fine, fine ass. The love of baseball, just baseball as the sport, stayed with me as I grew up. No need to reiterate my teams - you know them already.

What else do I like? I like cold winter days and attractive men. I like inventing wildly when given a modicum of truth to start with. I like staying up until 3:00 AM and waking up at noon. I like my sleep in general. I am deeply sympathetic to the liberal side of things in America, and have relatively little patience for Republicans, who are the running punch line in my family's house.

I have been kissed by someone that I didn't like but I have kissed someone that I did. I am cynical, cheerful, easy-going, funny, sarcastic, and occasionally reclusive. I am perfectly content to spend hours with only the creatures of my imagination for company. I would rather go home and work on my writing than go out to a party and get wasted. I like having the freedom to do what I want. I am a very responsible person in general but I like to drive fast. I miss the sunshine of Colorado and my younger sister, my best friend. But I am excited beyond measure to be where I am and now I really must work on philosophy.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Mea Culpa

Freddy Garcia of the White Sox loses a perfect game against the LAAAAAAA with two out in the eighth. Ooooh.... damn you Adam Kennedy...

Freddy Garcia Is Doing The Unmentionable

All I can say is, it couldn't happen to a better team.

A Note on My Baseblogging

I have never laid claim to being the most objective of sports bloggers. While Sparks of Dementia will delve into any and all topics that I might find interesting at any particular moment, one of the recurring themes, as you may already have noticed, will be my obsession with baseball. Therefore, let me take this moment to post a small disclaimer in relation to my sports coverage, which admittedly will be somewhat patchwork and deeply biased in pro green-and-gold and red-and-white directions. (Translation: Oakland A's and St. Louis Cardinals, both of whom I care about far more than is healthy for anyone's mental health).

Baseblogging Notes on Sparks of Dementia:

1) I know every stat. Sometimes, however, I prefer not to cite them, or I post out of emotion or outrage at somebody's current piss-poor performance and/or possible screwing the pooch of said team's playoff chances. As noted in my header, I make no guarantees of rationality (see: "I Hate Joe Kennedy.") This is my blog, after all, and I want to feel free to vent and blow off steam instead of having to put together an objective, analytical argument. Check out my sidebar - any of the SportsBlogs cited (AN, VEB, PR) will fill that role for you. There will be plenty of analysis, believe me, but as a side note. This blog is about my reactions as a fan, not my machinations as a sabermetric nerd. (And yes, I do know what VORP, OPS, and all other "nerdy" stats are. I even know how to calculate most of them).

2) I will also make no secret of my blatant favoritism - I'm a sports fan writing from a sports fan's perspective, not a journalistic standpoint, and if I call a Red Sox pitcher (say, Curt Schilling) an asshat, you can rest assured that at least you will never see me writing for a major newspaper and getting away with that. By the way, Curt Schilling is, in fact, an asshat. See my groups listing on Facebook.

3) If you come on here after a big A's/Cards win, you may expect to find me gloating freely. If a loss, expect to find me in a corner sobbing. Seeing as I am a devout agnostic, this is the closest thing that I get to a religion, and believe me, this is serious stuff.

4) If you don't know who Adam Wainwright is, you'd better brush up. I love him. Love him.

5) Let's establish this from the get-go so there is no confusion later.

People I Dislike (And Will Insult Freely)
The New York Yankees, esp. Alex Rodriguez
The Boston Red Sox, esp. Curt Schilling
The Los Angeles Angels of Orange County California USA, esp. everyone
The Texas Rangers, esp. George W. Bush

List subject to revision. If you have a problem with any of it, skip it.

That's about all I can think of right now. If warranted, further Notes on Baseblogging will appear later.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Jose Alberto Pujols is God. Amen.

Sorry for the ridiculous third post in a row within a matter of hours - I must seem like one of those stream-of-consciousness people, which I'm not. And I've never been accused of loquacity either, so this probably comes as a surprise and won't happen again once I get over the first transcendent high of new bloggerdom. But I couldn't let this pass unremarked, and especially not after the gut-wrenching loss that the A's just suffered at the hands of the Twinkies. I happened to look up at the St. Louis game, which I was following only marginally after Jeff Weaver screwed the pooch, and noticed that the final score was Cards 6, Astros 5. It had been 5-4 Astros going into the bottom of the ninth, and I had just braced myself for that devastating double-loss day when neither of my teams can get their heads out of their collective asses and instead meekly hand the game to the other team. Nes pas, when Albert Pujols is in the building.

In case you are not aware, Brad Lidge (Astros closer) is Albert's bitch. I will never forget watching NLCS Game 5 on a television purloined from my grandmother (in our defense, she was out of town and would have had no objection even if she did know) and watching Albert launch that colossal moonshot in the top of the ninth to win the game for the Cards. My sister and I jumped out of our seats and danced around ecstatically. Seriously. Then Mark Mulder, who's fast slipping in my good graces after his terrible season this year, gave it up in Game 6, but you know. Can't have everything and all that.

So, El Hombre worked his magic once again tonight. Two runners on, two out, Cards trying not to follow up Chris Carpenter's gem with a Weaver-piloted clunker. Albert yanks one to left field, Busch Stadium goes berserk, happy feelings abound. Except, not if you're Brad Lidge, and have been presented with resounding proof that you are, in fact, still Albert Pujols' bitch.

That's gotta be in his head for a loooong time now.

Roy Oswalt vs. Jason Marquis tomorrow. My usual expectation of Marquis is that he will suck, and I'm usually not disappointed in this regard. Right now, please join me in this heartfelt and entirely unsarcastic plea:


(why, you might ask? They are playing the LaAAAaAAA, only one of the most evil teams on earth).

I Hate Joe Kennedy

(Or, you learn where my loyalties lie. This is a preview of what is to come: long posts re: the Oakland A's and St. Louis Cardinals, with the Colorado Rockies thrown in for variety. I told you that a lot of this blog would deal with baseball).

Situation: Oakland A's 5, Minnesota 3, bottom of the eighth at the House of Horrors in Minneapolis better known as the Twinkie Dome, better known as the Metrodome. A's doing their best to hang on to a 5.5 game lead in the AL West and slice their magic number down in a desperate attempt to fend off their usual September slide and another humiliating choke to the Los Angeles Angels of Orange County California USA. I think they may do it this year, but sure as hell not if what just happened happens again.

Joe Kennedy is somebody who I've never understood Athletics' management's fixation with. Great ERA, because he lets everyone else's runners score instead of his own, sort of like the Jose Mesa of the AL. Terrible WHIP of 1.71, last time I checked. (In case you don't speak Baseballese, this number is an estimation of the number of walks and hits a pitcher permits per inning. In this example, it means Kennedy allows nearly two baserunners per inning). And it just bit him in the ass... I knew we weren't going to get through the meat of the Twins' lineup unscathed, and sure enough, JFK coughs up 3 runs to give the Twins a 6-5 edge.

(Note: I exaggerated. According to Yahoo! Sports, JFK's WHIP is 1.25. Still not stellar).

Now, it's not over yet, and Twinks closer Joe Nathan threw 30+ pitches last night, so there's still hope, but the A's absolutely must end this jackassery of bullpen management. Justin Duchscherer and Kiko Calero are the go-to guys in late, tight, close games that you really need to win late in the season, and Calero was kept in long enough to get a double play in the seventh, then pulled. Duchscherer was brought in to close the barn door after Kennedy had kindly let all the cows out.

Agh... I just can't stand this. September is going to turn my hair gray. Memo to Ken Macha: Use Kennedy if you must. Certainly not in situations like this. I just don't trust him, and I never have.

Update: 7-5 Twins win. Ugh..... wow, there hasn't been a loss that felt so much like a punch to the gut in a long time. I guess I know that I am unhealthily invested in the outcome of baseball games, and I've been trying to lessen my addiction, but apparently it hasn't worked. I feel like crying. The LAAAA can't keep losing on every night that we do.

I guess painting my fingernails green and gold didn't help much. Excuse me, I'm going to go crawl off into my corner now.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Classical Update

So, I got into the history class, which I am thoroughly jazzed about. The only problem is that "The Anglo-Saxons," which is the book that I'm currently slogging through in preparation for class each day, is so irredeemably dense that I constantly find myself reading a paragraph, understanding each word individually, but having to reread again to make sure I know what it means as a whole. And, geek that I am, I already have a rough idea of what I want to do for a conference (end-of-semester) project: "The Kings on the Island: The Royal Scots of Iona and their Culture." Yeah, so I'm a nerd. Lay it on me.

That reminds me... I haven't read the Ecclesiastical History yet, and I've got another class tomorrow. Er... I'll get to it in a second. It's only seven PM.I didn't get into the politics class, which is unfortunate but not heartbreaking. Besides, there were an assload of books that probably would have overloaded my already strained bag, and I got into my first second choice, a philosophy course about rationalism and empiricism. If you want dense, talk about dense... I have a feeling I'll be going through those texts with a microscope in one hand and a dictionary in the other.

Still, I'm excited. I like thinking. I like learning, and I think that my brain has had enough of a summer to wallow in, no matter how perfectly delightful that summer was. So, yeah.My third class, and one which I am sinfully excited about, is my First-Year Studies course, which for me is fiction. Writing is my passion, and it says something about that if you consider that I just had my first class - today - and I'm already madly in love with the course.

I love to write. I think about words and I lie awake at night exploring the inner intuition of my characters. I just wrote my first piece, "Memories of a Dream," and if you know anything about my proclivities, you may be able to guess who the main character is based on.Otherwise... I'm settling really well into life at SLC. Truth is, I love it here - it just feels so much like my kind of place, and I've already got a core group of friends. Emily and Markel, my roommates, to start with, and then Steve (who is himself an entire entry, lol) Katie O and Kate, Chet, Amie, and many others. It's just so nice to have a group to march down to Bates at dinnertime and hog an entire table, as authoritatively as if you were upperclassmen and knew everyone, dammit.

I'll definitely be happy to see my family at Christmas, though. My little sister and I have a vast and complicated network of our own stories that are updated daily through email, but it's not the same as telling them. And it'll be fun to see my parents - my guess is that after four months, everybody's willing to forget your irritating little foibles and just be happy to socialize, but after a month, the honeymoon's over and they're ready to pack you back off. ;)

Actually, though, my parents are pretty cool. And I must have mentioned that I love shared iTunes - I desperately need to find a music card now, since I've discovered so many new songs that my little heart desires.

SLC lost power on Saturday afternoon, and it didn't come back on until yesterday (Monday). Yeesh. So, on Saturday night, I went into New York City for the first time ever, with Jasmin, Christina, Lily, Sara, and some other kids that I didn't know at first. It was raining the whole time, we rode the subway to Union Square for dinner and walked to the Village for milkshakes, and it was incredibly cool. I'd never done anything like that before. It was definitely an awesome way to experience the City for the first time, although I have to see what it looks like a) in daytime and b) sans the ever-present rain.

We rode the train back to Bronxville at 12:30 and sloshed back to a depressingly wet and still dark campus, and sleepwalked through the next couple of days, suffering ravenous tech-addict withdrawal symptoms. It was like mother-effin' Christmas when the power (and Internet) came back on, and we all tore onto our respective computers to get our fix. Scary... I swear that the book Feed, by M.T. Anderson, is entirely too eerily accurate.

Other than that... the little things that people complain about, like the food (which isn't bad at all) and the somewhat unorthodox registration procedures (which are cool and unique) don't bother me at all. I guess it's just because I'm so happy to be here and I feel like my life is really beginning. Talk later...