Return of the Black

I changed it to "Mack" in the early 90's to avoid controversy.

What's REALLY good, blogosphere? Sir Marcus T. Williams here again, but you already knew that.

I know, I know - it's been awhile since we've spoken. I always say that I'm going to update this thing more often. I'll be pretty good about it for a month or two, and then I somehow always fall out of updating it regularly, which in turn always prompts me to promise updating it more regularly all over again. It's a vicious cycle, I do declare.

So what have I been up to these past 2 months, you ask? well, here's a quick recap:

- **SIGH** I'm now on my fifth go-around at MU's bookstore. Sympathy cards and well wishes can be sent to my parents home in North Carolina, they'll make sure I get them.

- One thing I HAVEN'T been doing? Hearing from HM. You think you know a person...

One of us went in blackface for our last night out.

- Last month marked the official end of an era here at the Zou for the Triumvirate. In fact, if you include our on again/off again 4th member, it was the end of an era for the Quad-ricep that was comprised of me, Gossip Girl, Scotty2Hotty, and Bo Peep. Granted, it looks as if Gossip Girl will be around for awhile just like me, but Bo Peep and Scotty2Hotty have graduated and officially moved out of Columbia. For as much time as you think you have to live the college life, the actual brevity of that window of time is incredibly disarming, something that will absolutely pass you by as quickly as it snuck up on you when you were a teenager. The next thing you know, you and/or many of your dearest friends are moving onto big boy and big girl jobs, and you find yourself fondly reminiscing the days when you were eating in the campus dining halls, wishing for the world that you could go back and have those times again. Having spent a good amount of my college social life around these 3 fantastic friends, there's not a single day that goes by or will come when I won't think about the great times we've had. I like to think that I'm good with words to an extent, but even I can't think of a way to sufficiently verbalize how much I'm going to miss these people. It's been an absolute privilege to get to know them; we should all be so lucky.

It's okay to want a piece, Spanish Beyonce.

- On a much less gushy note, a few nights ago, I went with my friend AnnHog to watch her get a new tattoo. I've always quietly been interested in tattoo culture, so it was high time that I got to see it up close and personal. During a class trip to Spain back in high school, I briefly dabbled in the life of a tatted-up studmuffin, taking two bicep tattoos for a proverbial test drive. Upon returning to the states, my mom was less than thrilled with the perceived life decisions that I had made, so while those 2 weeks were a fun ride, the message was clear: don't bring that weak shit in her house anymore. That being said, I'm still interested in them. I think I wanna get one eventually, but I've never found myself with enough disposable income or in close enough proximity to a parlor to be like "today feels like a tattoo kind of day." So for the time being, watching someone else do it had to fill that void for me. Whenever I do get inked up, I'll probably go the cliche' route - either a cross/scripture on my bicep or a heart on my vajayjay. Stay tuned for further developments.

- Speaking of AnnHog, she and I recently had the privilege of attending a roller derby match here in Columbia. I've mentioned in this space before that I've always had a small interest in the sport, so when I was invited to go see it in person a few weeks ago, I couldn't say yes quickly enough. Much like my fascination with tattoos, roller derby was something that wasn't immediately accessible to me, so when the offer arose, I had to calculate my odds of having another opportunity come around soon and go for it.  Anyone who knows anything about ANYTHING knows that there are three main positions in roller-derby: the people in the middle of the pack are generally "blockers," the faster ones who circle in and around the pack are called "jammers," and the people in the stands are generally called "white-trash" and/or "Uh-Oh Oreos."(<------ "Uh-Oh Oreos" is also commonly spelled "Sir Marcus T. Williams.")

While there, AnnHog and I gave serious thought to me joining a roller derby squad. We conceded that were I to become a roller derby skater, I'd probably be a jammer. After spending the majority of the match racking my brain trying to come up with a killer potential name, it finally hit me: I would like to be called "Slow Jams." It acknowledges my open affinity for R&B music and it's ironic because ideally, a team wants its jammers to be fast. That's right, blogomaniacs - bask in the brilliant ambiance of my double entendre...

- Lately, it seems that everywhere I go, there are black people around me who are utterly determined to be fomenters of black stereotypes, essentially undoing the tireless amount of good will and trend-bucking that I do. Generally, it's in the form of a couple of black people being loud and obnoxious in a conversation between themselves. Sometimes, it's just their possessions that do the perpetration for them. Now, I certainly understand the need to rap every word of a song that you like, but your phone doesn't need the whole song as a ringtone. If you are in public, take the ring off of "Eardrum Shatter" mode and put your phone on vibrate like the rest of us - we're trying to have a decent society here, people. The most upsetting thing, though? Seeing other black folks eating fried chicken. Ugh, it's just like the encyclopedia says! This, my negro amigos, is why we can't have nice things.

On an unrelated note, I made some delicious fried chicken last night. But it was okay because no one else was here to see me eat it, and we all know that accusations only apply when there's a witness - or have you all never beaten a murder rap before?

- If you run into Jorge Pedro out in the streets, just say "areolas" and watch her face light up like a Christmas tree. WHAT. A. PERVE.

Come on, Pat Riley - you look ridiculous. 

- Last month, my beloved Miami Heatles fell victim to the blitzkrieg of a Dirk Nowitzki-led Dallas Mavericks in the NBA Finals, ceding the championship to them in 6 games. I will always maintain that Miami was the best team for the first 4 games, but unfortunately, 2 of those games included embarrassing 4th quarter execution that ultimately cost them the win. I'm not bitter though - Dallas absolutely deserved to win and Miami didn't, and I felt all along that if Dallas won, it would be karmic retribution of the 2006 Finals, when these teams also played for the title and Miami may or may not have gotten a little help from the referees. The weight of the self-imposed expectations and media attention eventually caught up to my Heatles, and in the end, though I'll always believe they SHOULD HAVE won, they didn't deserve to.

- Y'all remember that bike that I got for Christmas? About a month ago, I took her out for a ride on the town for the first time since purchasing it. It was an admittedly weird sensation at first, but you can't really forget how to bike. My apartment is situated at the bottom of a series of hills, so while the trek to campus was an arduous one, it allowed me to take solace in the fact that I would return coming downhill, which would save me quite a bit of work. Unfortunately, I had not calculated doing so while simultaneously being an idiot. Having not been on a bike in awhile, I didn't contemplate the nuances of maneuvering it while flying downhill at speeds excessing complete stagnation, and I soon had to begin planning how I was going to explain my last day of biking. As I swiftly approached the field that was about to make me its lady of the evening, all I could hope was that it would use vaseline. In an ill-fated move that was meant to salvage the situation, I tried to hop the bike over the curb and keep riding. But, much like the rest of my endeavors, said move was half-assed, and I crashed anyways. You can't fail that hard without actually BEING the Titanic. Luckily, I don't believe anyone who lives here saw me. Unfortunately, God certainly did, and I can only assume that the thunderstorm that soon followed was the sound of Him laughing at me. I can't say how long before I'll get back on the bike, but I can say that things will be awkward between me and that field for a very long time...

Anyways, this seems like a good place to wrap it up. It was good catching up, folks - let's not wait so long before we get together again. Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams, signing off....

Yall take care, and stay classy out there.

The Essence of Awkward

What what (in the butt) it do, blogosphere? Sir Marcus back here, and ohhhhhhhhhhhh boy are you in for a treat. Y'all don't even know. 

For at least as long as I have been in college, I have harbored an obsession - or should I say a "healthy fascination" - with the awkward. When I say that, I mean that I find awkward people and awkward situations especially humorous and captivating. I suppose I'm not breaking new ground by stating that I find awkward situations funny, but even so, I can't get enough of them - provided they don't involve me. 

Hate when this happens...

So as I was lazily perusing the interwebs today, I came across quite a few websites and articles detailing the various awkward situations that tend to arise everyday, the most germane of which being this one or  perhaps this one.That got me to thinking - there are probably far more awkward situations that don't get quite as much pub, but are no less common. Try as I might, even someone as awesome as I am is susceptible to finding himself engrossed in an awkward encounter from time to time, here are the ones most likely to happen to me or those I know:

1) That situation involving having to speak to a friend who is with a stranger. 

- This happens to me all the time. One advantage of being in college for half a decade is that it gives you plenty of time and opportunity to make new friends that you will stumble into on a regular basis. The disadvantage is that you often have to talk to these people in public. As fate would have it, you're most likely to run into this person when they are with someone that you don't know. For some, this is not an issue. For others, it is pregnant with potential for awkwardness. If you're like me, you're not socially inept enough to want to avoid speaking to people in public at all costs, but generally, the presence of that stranger is enough to throw you off your game a little bit. Consequently, you find yourself bumbling through awkward chit chat that feels forced from the jump. It often begins with you asking some benign question that you want to be a comment on something obvious - not so obvious that it doesn't even merit mentioning, but obvious and relatable enough so as not to alienate the stranger. Of course, rarely does it work out this way, and you most often end up making some completely inane remark, a conversational FAIL the likes of which haven't been seen since that first slave owner let an n-bomb slip the morning that he freed his slaves. "Oh hey, so what are you gals up to? You're writing with pencils? Nice, I had.... a.... pencil once" does not (unless you're intentionally being sarcastic - something that few can convincingly pull off) exactly make you come off as someone who is comfortable hatching conversations with people. Get your improv game up. 

2) That situation where you're the drunkest/highest/clumsiest person at the party. 

- Admittedly, I have no idea what this is like, and more often than not, it's most awkward for the people watching Mr. or Mrs. Drunkenstein, but awkward is awkward. Being a friend of the afflicted party is tough for awhile afterwards because you've often seen them in a different light or compromising positions. These cases lead to any number of unfortunate outcomes, such as:

     

Narcolepsy is a hell of a drug.

     *Dancing the night away at a family party and eventually throwing up all over your best friend. 

     *Waking up in the middle of your living room floor the morning after hosting a party. Your t-shirt and socks are still on, but your pants and underwear are M.I.A.

     *Making one swift, ill-timed dance move (again at a house party that you're hosting) and face-planting in the middle of your kitchen floor. But don't worry, the chipped tooth look is TOTALLY on the social upswing. 

     *Getting blackout drunk for the first time on a class trip to Europe and subsequently thinking that it's high time you took out your innermost frustrations on the door to your room. No, you're right - I definitely thought that if you built a full head of steam, you could take that sumbitch down. I mean, who expects an 8-foot tall, 4-inch thick wooden door to be anything but flimsy? Stupid European architecture...

3) That situation where you are again around strangers and have to pretend getting a call or text so as to avoid either making conversation or looking like a bewildered jackass. 

- We've all been here. I often find myself walking around campus or in a confined space with a stranger where I have absolutely no qualms with faking a call to avoid interaction. The walking one is simpler - you don't really have to speak to anyone but that also makes it trickier because you've realized that you have to turn around and go in the opposite direction and the people around are sure to see you do it. Without explaining to them what you're doing, you're going to look silly. And God forbid you do go outta your way to explain it - now you look both silly and self-important for explaining to a complete stranger something they give less than a damn about. What I do is always stop dead in my tracks, look around me for a few seconds as if the ghost who just called me may be close by, and then go back the way I came, faking exasperation and slight distress and muttering various things that sound like I'm confirming directions. Crisis averted.

The confined spaces one is probably far more common; so common in fact, that the other person is probably quietly upset or relieved that you whipped out the phone before they did. Of course, this is probably the oldest trick in the book, so they're also hating you because you're coming off as a snotty McAsshole who's too good to even stand their company for a small amount of time, no matter how brief.

4) That situation (FOR GUYS) where either the word "period" comes up in conversation, or worse yet - you are physically present to witness the purchase of tampons. 

- Okay, let me preface this section by saying I hate discussing bodily functions on any level with girls. I don't really ever think it's a proper conversational topic unless it absolutely can't be avoided, but those feelings are amplified tenfold when I'm conversing with girls. I can't imagine any guy is completely comfortable talking about periods, so gals, understand where a brother is coming from. It's just inherently awkward.

That being said, I'm willing to acknowledge that it happens. Much like the slaughtering of cows gives us the meat for burgers and their skin as leather for assless chaps, it's a necessary evil that, as long as you don't talk about it so much, we can live with turning a blind eye towards. But mention the word casually around some guys, and you'll see sphincters tighten up faster than Antoine Dodson's will loosen up in jail. 

That being said, sometimes we just don't see it coming. Nothing derails an innocent trip to Wal-Mart faster than spotting a rogue package of tampons in the cart. This is par for the course if you're with your girlfriend or wife, but if you're with a platonic, asexual friend, or worse yet - your mother - then you, poor sap, have been led astray somehow. You'll get temporary reprieve from the ordeal when you inevitably pass out from shock, but upon waking up from that blackout, the dirty truth will still be there, nestled ever-so-comfortably up against your box of Cap'n Crunch - what USED to be your favorite cereal. 

5) That situation where you have a friend that STILL regularly wears Ed Hardy. 

- Self ex-fucking-planatory. Get a new friend before the douchebarrel overfloweth onto you. 

6) That situation in which you're taking a picture with someone WAY cooler/hotter than you and you don't wanna touch them so you commit the cardinal picture sin: The HOVER HAND. 

Sweet glasses though, chief. 

- It's so tough meeting celebrities (or any strangers, for that matter) and being thrust into that surprisingly unnerving situation where you're about to be captured on film with them. You know - perhaps "hope" is a better word for it - that maybe, just maybe, this will raise your social profile and that people who see your facebook profile will see that you have met someone famous or that you don't just hang out with buffarillas. But when picture time comes, you're in a precarious position - do you just cozy on up to them  like you would any other friend, or do you feign contact by putting your arm around them, but not actually touching down on their body so as not to come off as too familiar? This quandary often leads to a mean case of the Hover Hand, which, ironically, often comes off as slightly creepier and more pathetic than if you had just gone for it - something you were trying to avoid, lest you seem creepy and yes, pathetic. 

This is a common affliction of the self-conscious, one I used to suffer from myself. But as I've grown and become more comfortable in my own skin, I've learned to shirk such trepidation and have realized that hey, she agreed to take the picture, so as long as you can subtly break the touch barrier without coming off like a pervert, then you might as well go for it. Don't treat her like a collector's item in its hermetically-sealed packaging -  MAN UP and make that picture worth your while, you pansy!

Anyways, today's offering was fun. I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. There are no shortage of potential awkward pitfalls in everyday life, so if you think of some, let a brotha know. 

Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off...... Y'all stay classy out there. 

Black by Popular Demand

Season's greetings blogosphere! And at the behest of a few friends, this is Sir Marcus back in action here.

I know, I know - it's been too long since we last spoke. I'd like to say that it's because I've been busy, but I'm told that God hates liars. What can I say? I've had my mind rapt on updating this thing for awhile, but haven't felt that burning in my loins about any one particular subject for awhile. The resultant bad news is that it's given me an excuse to be away for awhile, and for that I'm sorry, dear blogomaniacs. The good news about that lack of burn is that  - thank the Jesus! - I don't have gonorrhea. Whoa ladies, not all at once...

Consequently, instead of one centralized rant, today's update will offer bits and pieces from various parts of my life in the month or so that I've taken off. Let's get the ball rolling...

Cheer up, ho!

- I turned 23 years young on March 19th, which means that I'm coming dangerously close to being able to remember two decades worth of birthdays. They say birthdays are all downhill after the 21st, which I find rude because it presumes that you spend your 21st celebrating your crossover into the world of legal alcoholism. For those of us who don't drink, that birthday is only significant because it means you can legally aid and abet your underage friends in their quest to circumvent the law. Being (mostly) straight-edge means that it's pretty much all downhill after 18, a depressing thought made all the more sobering (<---- see what I did there?) when I realize that that was half a decade ago for me. Half a decade! I mean, MY GOD, my 5th year high school reunion is coming up next month. That's a tough thought to put in my pipe and smoke before you even remember that I'm straight-edge.

But my birthday this year wasn't all doom and gloom. It provided an opportunity for an all-too-rare visit from one of my friends from back home, Mr. Ambition. A budding rapper/producer, he stayed back in Richmond to go to school while I came to Missouri, only recently uprooting and moving out to Kansas to stay with his father and get his career off the ground. We were really close friends back in elementary school, and while we still lived in the same city for awhile, things kinda cooled off after I changed schools in 6th grade. Obviously we kinda kept in touch after that - hell, we've always been members of the same church - but I admit that I was a little surprised when he asked to come for a visit. But I'm always thrilled to be able to host people from back home, and to say I have a bit of free time these days is a gross understatement, so I said sure.

Now, to be completely honest, I think I would always prefer to have my younger brother and/or cousin visit, but beggars can't be choosy. It's not anything personal, but again, I was surprised when he asked. When the time came, he ended up staying an entire week. That's a long time for ANYONE to stay with you, and while I appreciate his enthusiasm, for future reference, we'll probably whittle that down to a couple of days or so. Again, it's nothing personal, but as someone who enjoys time to himself almost as much as anything else, it became quite the burden having to concern myself with entertaining the both of us. On the one hand, that wasn't always an issue because I'm pretty self-reliant when it comes to diverting my attention to simple things and for as long as I can remember, he's laughed at almost everything I say. On the other hand, his tendency to sometimes oversell even the most benign statement from me adds a trifle of pressure to always be "on." We all know I'm a funny guy, but can a brotha not have a pensive side?

But more than anything, having someone stay with me for so long just got in the way of having time to myself. I couldn't spend time walking around campus and downtown as usual because I didn't wanna leave him at the house all day everyday. When you are hosting people, you feel the need to always be able to come up with stuff to keep them occupied, a needling sense of pressure that is amplified sevenfold when they stay for a week. To his credit, he seemed perfectly content just sitting around the house like I would, but still, he didn't travel two hours to just sit around, and I knew that. Not having my own car was pretty crippling in that regard, but all in all, we made the week work. He met Miss Frizzle and quite a few of my other friends throughout the week, so I think he got a good look at my life in the Midwest. It was good for us to catch up, and he's more than welcome to come visit again.

He had no idea how well he had it...

- Miss Frizzle has relinquished her residence here since we last spoke, opting to move in with her boyfriend. It was fun while it lasted, but it's easy to understand why she made the move. Only time will tell if it was the right move, but it's not my situation, so whether I wanted her to stay or not didn't matter. The intellectual companionship and financial relief were nice, but I've always been a little more comfortable operating on my own anyways. I don't mind having a roommate if it's someone I know and get along with pretty well, but all things being equal, I prefer living alone. That's no knock on her - I'm just a self-contained homebody who likes to let it hang loose while flying solo. It's like the old adage says - if a guy idles at home in front of the TV for hours at a time but no one else is there to witness it, is he still a bum?

- I tried to avoid it, but this coming Monday marks the 5th time I'll be showing up at the bookstore's textbook department as a seasonal employee. To be fair, I can't say that I've been trying THAT hard to find other work, but still, I'm concerned that I'm becoming the manlier, darker skinned version of Chatty Cathy, who some of you may remember from Textbook Temps, a chronicle of my first go-round oh so many months ago. I'd like to think that I'm the only one who's beginning to notice the parallels, but I'm probably not. I complain about how she always talks about how many times she has temp'd there, yet here I am, about to go balls deep into round 5. Is it sad that I'm signing on for a temporary job for the 5th time, knowing that I can't possibly get promoted to anything more there? Maybe a little, but it helps pay the bills, and it gives me something to do for the summer. Still, just because you ignore the elephant in the room doesn't make him irrelephant.

- Where are you, HM? It's been quite awhile. I wonder if you're gonna catch this shout out...

- Speaking of catching, I've caught a lot of flack in recent weeks from Gossip Girl, who feels I have deserted her this semester. There's something to that - we were almost inseparable for the better part of the last 3 years and now we barely see each other. It's not necessarily a conscious decision to avoid her; it just so happens that her last push to go out and enjoy what's left of college has coincided with my reversion back to my true identity as a homebody. We've both taken on a newer group of friends in the months since my "graduation," and it has meant less time for us as a duo. With Bo Peep away for this semester, the mighty Triumvirate has been disbanded. I'm not saying she's the reason, but that's just what has happened. I love those girls to death and miss our Triumvirate time together dearly, but I've also been able to find friends who are more inclined to do things that are closer to my taste. Neither group is better than the other; it's just nice to have a change of pace.

- It's NBA playoffs time. As of this printing, my Miami Heatles are up 2 games to 0 on the heretofore-hapless Philadelphia 76ers in the 1st round and are looking primed to make a run towards the title. I'm not saying they will or won't win it all, but I'm saying that they're gonna be a force, and if you follow basketball and think they aren't, then you are WOEFULLY ill-equipped to even be in this conversation. Especially you Lakers/Celtics "fans" who have only popped up in the last 3 years.

That seems like a good point to wrap it up. Sorry it took so long, but it feels to get back in the swing of things, does it not? Blame Jorge Pedro for the delay though - she kept saying she would guest write one of these bad boys for me only to back out of it. She's a rascal, that one. If you see her in the streets, it's okay to trip her up or whatever seems appropriate at the time. Tell her I sent you.

Anyways, it's time I bid you all adieu. Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off....

You guys take care and stay classy out there.

Still Standing

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Snowmageddon 2011

What's the word, blogosphere? Sir Marcus T. Williams here. I know what you're thinking, and to answer your question, yes, there is a good chance I will be taken with the #1 overall selection in the upcoming NFL Draft. I just had a hell of a season on NCAA Football 2011 on Xbox 360 and NFL teams just can't ignore that sort of football acumen.

But if by chance you weren't thinking that, then you're probably taken aback by a new blog entry so soon after the last one. What can I say? I'm a people pleaser, and after all 0 of you came pining for another dip into the pool, I couldn't resist. On top of that, those of us in the mid-MO area have found ourselves with A LOT of free time this week. It's one thing to lay around and relax at your house of your own volition, but to be forced into confinement by inclement weather is something totally different. I'm now balls deep into day 3 of what's apparently going to be a snow week, and if you all are anything like me, you've become somewhat stir crazy from being cramped up in the house. In an effort to keep myself occupied, some random musings from the first half of the week include:

Redheads are good at board games.

- In real life Scrabble, it's Miss Frizzle: 6, Sir Marcus: 0. In an effort to alleviate some of the mounting pressure that all of this losing is creating, I'm thinking it may be time to change games. I've been known to be a ruthless dictator in Monopoly, so hopefully I can coerce her into playing that at some point. If not that, then I'll settle for some Seinfeld-themed Scene It or trivia. Failing that, I'll get a new roommate.

- I'll sporadically snatch up my pocket thesaurus and start looking for new words to implement into my lexicon of everyday usage. While this may help create an increasingly keen and verbose vocabulary, there are some words that you just can't utilize without coming across like a pompous ass. That's just the verisimilitude of the matter, my naive little constituents.

- No matter how much food you buy on your trips to the grocery store, a week of seclusion and very little outside adventure has a way of dwarfing that sense of accomplishment that you had upon leaving the store. Nothing gives you perspective like cereal in water or Ramen noodles with eggs in them.

- In preparation for weeks like this, more than half of my DVD collection is comprised of whole seasons of my favorite TV shows. Lately, me and my girl AnnHog have been chain-swallowing episodes of Arrested Development, but even that has had the proverbial monkey wrench thrown in it, as this snowdrift has kept us separated; Mother Nature is a serious player hater. Also, if you can't get down with Arrested Development, then I can't claim to really get down with you, so get on that, you knuckleheads.

- I've recently been advised not to speak so much about the ebbs and flows of my romantic life in public venues. Tis a pity though, because the latest episode of "Different Toilet, Same Shit" was pregnant with good story potential.

- The fact that I recently purchased a bike seems more and more like a cruel joke as time passes. It sits there silently mocking me on a daily basis. First of all, it may have been slightly shortsighted to get one now that my undergraduate college career is, for all intents and purposes, over. Sure, I still take a couple classes, but this bike definitely would have helped me much more in any semester besides this one. Add to that the fact that we are buried in knee-high snow and what you get is a recipe for bad timing with a side of wasted money. The bike is still safely nestled in its box, still very much unassembled. I won't yet be getting exercise in the traditional sense that the bike was meant for, but it is good for an exercise in futility.

This really happened. Megaphone and all.

- Some people don't know how to handle a little fame. I briefly mentioned her here the other day, and now all the notoriety has gone to her head. For reasons unbeknownst to me, Jorge Pedro thinks it's okay to yell at me via various social arenas as if I'm one of her subjects. She's basically a meaniehead.

That's as good a closer as any, so I bid you all adieu for now. Until next time,  this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off...

Yall stay classy out there.

Post-Grad Hijinx

Bonjour, blogosphere! Sir Marcus here bringing you a long overdue update on latest happenings in my life, whether you care to hear them or not.

When we last spoke over a month ago, I had just "graduated" from the University of Missouri. I enclosed that word in quotes because if one were to ask most of my friends around CoMo, they would tell you that nothing has really changed -- I'm still in town and wandering around campus all the time like I was before. Part of this is because I was going to be in town anyways -- my lease is not up until July and it doesn't make a great deal of sense to pay rent for an apartment that you don't plan to inhabit. But perhaps a bigger reason for my continued presence is that I can't claim to take GPA as seriously as everyone else seems to, so while obviously I made it through college, it wasn't exactly without any hiccups. Consequently, I am taking classes now to clean up my GPA a little bit in an effort to potentially go to grad school in the near future. Now I have an excuse to meander around campus a little longer and postpone the undeniably unnerving foray into that inordinately soul-crushing quagmire known as the "real world." Besides, all you blogosphanatics out there know you'd rather that I be around than I not be, so YOU'RE WELCOME. I do it because I care.

Great movie, better exhibition in LIES!!! 

Speaking of classes, I literally just received word that in lieu of the alleged impending snowpocalypse that we're staring down, classes are cancelled at least for tomorrow. This news would have meant next to nothing to me if I had graduated last spring like most of my classmates did. As it turns out however, this marks the 2nd time in my tenure at MU that classes have been cancelled for snow. This is significant because before the cancellation during my freshman year, MU hadn't cancelled classes for snow for like 30 years. Not even making that up. So with today's joyous news, I've now been apart of the rarest of rarities on two separate occasions; I knew there was a reason God wanted me to be here so long. TAKE THAT all you overachievers that graduated early or on time! I may not be seen by anyone but my roommate until Thursday, because Lord knows I'm not about to brave that weather. In fact, the only thing less likely than MU canceling classes for snow is seeing me partake in any snow-related activities. Why? Because black people don't do cold weather or snow - no sledding, tobogganing, bobsledding, ice fishing - and shame on you all for making me say it.

The bus wouldn't fit inside the house.

- Yes, I just said "my roommate." I'm sure I mentioned this, but my previous roommate got married the very day of my graduation, and subsequently moved in with his wife who lives next door, leaving a vacancy in my apartment. This left me with two options: stumble into someone I knew that would happen to be looking for a new address, or convert the two-bedroom apartment into a free-swinging bachelor's pad. My homie Miss Frizzle showed interest initially but when that cooled off, I was prepared to fly solo for the spring. Just as I was getting ready to knock down the walls of one bedroom to create a giant utopian living compound, the frizzled one jumped back into the fray and decided to move in after all. She's lucky that Magic School Bus was my favorite cartoon as a kid. Not gonna lie - going back to sharing space in a place that I previously had all to my lonesome is going to take some getting used to, but if I have to share, I'm glad it's with someone who seems to get me the way she does. Also, it helps that she likes to cook and it's nice to have someone in the house to pick up some of the culinary slack. You never realize how rudimentary your own cooking skills are until someone moves in that knows how to make stuff outside of the microwave.

Me and the new Karma Chameleons. 

- What else have I done with my time, you ask? Besides continuing to have my ass handed to me in Scrabble by Miss Frizzle and HM, I just completed my 4th stint as a temporary textbook employee at the bookstore. Is that a little sad? It probably is on some level, but I mentally prepared myself to toil in vocational obscurity when I changed my major to English. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my application at Gobias Industries pulls through, but short of that, it's not as if companies are tripping over themselves to hire people whose primary field of experience is in people watching. And if they are, I certainly have a bone to pick with the people withholding this info from me. But it's hard to feel bad about being a temp so many times when it has allowed me to meet so many good people over the past year and a half. My circle of friends has been in a constant state of flux since college started, and over the course of my 4 separate temp periods, it has been infused with some much-needed variety and depth by the bookstore, whether they be fellow textbook temps or lame cashiers who try to keep themselves busy by basically begging for our friendship (Hello, Jorge Pedro!). And through those friends, I've made even more friends and associates that I otherwise would not have, so I'm very grateful for being able to meet these people (with the exception of 1 or 2 of them, anyways -- JORGE).

- In non-sequitor news, Bo Peep, we miss you! Come back to me right now, dammit!

Anyways, that seems like a good place to stop the bleeding for today. With all of this extra school-bestowed free time, maybe you blogomaniacs will hear from me in the next couple of days...

But don't count on it. Anyways, until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off.... Yall stay classy out there.

Big Boy Shoes

Decided against wearing a hat so as to flaunt my new blonde highlights. 

What is up, blogosphere? Sir Marcus T. Williams here and I'm gonna try to catch you up on the whirlwind past couple weeks, which doubled as the last few of my undergrad college career. You heard it right: I am now officially a college graduate. They clearly let just anyone who can read and write graduate. But, on the bright side, this means that anyone that got some sort of notification or graduation announcement from me and my family is theoretically obligated to fulfill the unspoken social contract that says they have to send some sort of gift to me. I'm accepting donations, most specifically those of the monetary persuasion. Don't you all take out your checkbooks at once.

This guy had the right idea.

As for actual graduation, I knew it had to happen at some point, but that doesn't make it any easier to wrap my head around. I'm not that emotional a person, but as I sat amongst my fellow graduates Saturday afternoon, the moment temporarily swallowed me as I realized that for all intents and purposes, I was in the process of crossing over into full-time adulthood, a look that I'm not quite sure is good for me. Since I began college, I've been in a perpetual state of arrested development, enjoying it so much so that while I've physically and intellectually changed since then, I've mentally stagnated in the mindset of a college student. Van Wilder was onto something, because college has been awesome and I would probably never leave if the choice were left up to me. My grades have damn near made that a possibility, but they are misleading. They probably won't be read this way but I always have and always will maintain that the work in college isn't the hard part - it's the motivation to stay on top of it. Y'all smell what I'm cooking.

Adding to the intrigue of my impending commencement ceremonies was the fact that my family was making a rare visit to Columbia to see it. I see my family like 2 or 3 times a year at most now, so I practically blew myself (NO HOMO) in giddy anticipation of their arrival. My parents, younger brother Han Solo(cup) and cousin Jungle Jim made the voyage out to CoMo thursday night and left this afternoon, which was a lengthier visit than I originally expected, but also a pleasant surprise. It was very good to see them and let them see how I operate in my Midwestern element. They got to meet some of my closer friends and other associates. They even got to take in some Mizzou basketball action and some Andy's Frozen Custard. #LetsHaveAToast to my kinfolk for the love and support they've shown me over the course of this journey; I appreciate y'all making the long trip in my name.

I'm not there physically, but subconsciously, he's getting it

- This weekend was also big for people not named me. My young nephew Tre' turned 3 on saturday and though he has only met his long-lost uncle once, I'm doing all in my power to make sure he follows in my footsteps and becomes the next Missouri Tiger of the Williams family. My older brother might think it's gonna go differently, but he's wrong. Mizzou class of 2029 - book it!

- Also going down on Saturday: My longtime roommate and main man Ryno got married. He and his wife have been together for about a year and a half now and sometimes you just know. I was scheduled to be a groomsman in the ceremony but had something else come up that I had to go to. DAMN YOU, College of Arts & Sciences!

For serious though, I'm certainly not jealous of their particular situation, but I am one of those rare guys that looks forward to that part of my life. I would LOVE to have my own shit figured out that early on, especially as it pertains to my love life. But if not me, then good for them, I say. Congratulations to the newly-crowned Mr. and Mrs. Guenther! Shit got REAL all over the place this weekend.

- As is wont to happen when people get married, the Guenthers are moving into a place together, meaning that I'm on the lookout for a new roommate; enter my homeslice Miss Frizzle. I'm given to understand that she is looking to change her residence and she has indicated that she's interested in filling in for Ryno, so right now she's the most likely candidate for the vacancy. She's one of the few people that I can confidently say really gets me (at least more so than most people) and we have a very enjoyable rapport with one another, and despite the fact that she has been recently kicking my ass sideways in Scrabble (ironic that I'm not great at that game, no?), I'm hoping that me and her can work something out this week. I'm going to need a new roommate regardless, so if we both are looking at residency questions, we might as well kill two birds with one stone. I cannot overstate how much I hope to be past the point in my life where I live with total strangers, so obviously I would be thoroughly stoked to get this situation resolved, especially if said resolution comes through someone I know and really get along with. Maybe mentioning it here on the interwebs will light a fire under her and she'll make the clear right decision.  YOUR MOVE, Ms. Frizzle.

Love y'all to death, for serious. 

-  One final note on graduation: Shout out to ET, Bo Peep, Gossip Girl, and Scotty2Hotty for actually sitting through the ceremony to watch me graduate. I would have never asked them to come, but the fact that they volunteered to do so was very flattering. I'm very thankful to consider them all friends of mine.

So now you guys are somewhat caught up on things. Now that I don't have those pesky classes getting in the way, I'll have more time to keep y'all abreast on the happenings in my life; I know you guys have been fiending for this stuff, and I'm gonna be your supplier.

Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off..... Y'all take care now. Bye-cicle.