May 15, 2008


I got them. I didn't really ever expect them. I cant believe it.

May 10, 2008

Stanford Pollutant

I grew up in the shadows of two great universities. Living in the Bay Area, they both certainly made their presence and they certainly were not something you wouldn't notice at all. In the fall, their games would be broadcast on television and towards Christmas, the Big Game would just spread over the Bay Area. But until three years ago, I hardly even knew the definition of "Big Game". In fact, College football wasn't a priority. Not at all. I would work as an ordinary student at an ordinary high school in an ordinary town. Not to say in the least that Alameda was ordinary all the time. I bode my time well, making friends and having as much fun as possible, but when it came time to choose colleges, there were too many options ahead of me.

Another thing, let me tell you. I grew up knowing where UC Berkeley was, but not Stanford. I always thought it was somewhere north of Berkeley, but then, I think it was senior year of High School when I bothered to look up where it was. Apparently, its in a place called Palo Alto.

But a big decision in shaping me was football. I didn't like it at first, but when on the local level you could relate, then it became personal. My first memory of Memorial Stadium was around early October of 2006 when my friend's family offered to take me along. It was amazing. The first thing you could do was the march to victory, the parade route Cal Band always took from Sproul up to Memorial. Its changed now, since all that construction on the Bancroft has stepped up. You'd enter this gigantic archway and find your seats, watch the band just burst out of the tunnel to two "bombs" as they're called and watch pregame. The cannon on the hill would fire and the general atmosphere would be amazing. For me, my first time was absolutely breath taking. People were cheering, students were standing, I was sitting, etc. And at that point, I fell in love with Cal. I never knew this sort of thing existed. I mean, sure, i've heard of the play and stuff, but not in this context. This brought it upon a whole new level. I always assumed that Cal was the place where smart people go. I never realized that there would be this informal, football loving side to the university.

From that point on, I always saw Stanford as the enemy. I stopped wearing my stanford sweatshirt permanently, and I gave away my Stanford Tshirt. The only reason I had those was because I just wanted college gear back in high school. Stanford, Cal, University of Virginia, it didn't mean much other than you got cool shit from one of those places. I had a really small sweatshirt I loved from University of Washington and I believe there's a Buckeyes sweatshirt somewhere that was a handmedown from my cousins. I still wear stuff from other places, all but Stanford.

But mind you, I've never been to Stanford. The occasion never called for me to go that far south on the peninsula. So my only impressions of it is, well, a school. For those of you who dont know what Berkeley is like, imagine this: A school was founded, but towards the early 20th century, a plan was envisioned. By one of the wealthiest women in the country. Willing to back up and finance this, the goal was to turn this school into the Athens of the West. Massive greek style buildings, amazing libraries, a Campinile, in other words, a model of the great learning civilizations of years past.

So what did I think of Stanford? My only images were those conjured from what I've heard. Flat, boring buildings and a stubby penis looking tower. Fair enough I suppose. But I'd never set foot onto the campus until December 1, 2007. When the majority of all these ideas were reinforced. Never had I seen such a flat spread out campus. Apart from Davis and Santa Barbara. But those were understandable. They had the space to spread out and merit Bike lanes and signals. There, it was just plain confusion. Trees and random ugly bits of land. Such a strange site to behold.

My view on Stanfordites weren't any better. We learned to watch our things, to be vigilant and to notice every single attack they may make. The day of bonfire, they tried to hang a banner. It fell, ripping the sheet. Epic Fail. That's all I need to say. Epic FAIL.

So with Rally Comm, my friends, and a few others, I visited Stanford with the notion that they were mean, cruel, evil and awkwardly weird. Seriously, I couldn't imagine a nice person from Stanford. Well, I suppose I could, but they'd be just normal students. A high school professor/colleague of mine was a Stanford Alum and decided to put a beat Cal sign on the wall. But it soon changed to read GO CAL. Lol. So my first visit to the farm, I couldn't find a single nice Stanford person. So at this point, I do my best to stay away from there.

Go Bears

- A Stanford student and a Cal Student were using the urinals in the bathroom of Memorial Stadium. They both finish up and the Stanford student walks to the sinks and starts washing up whereas the Cal student finishes and goes for the door. The Stanford student nonchalantly calls out: "At Stanford, they teach us to wash our hands after we pee. Without missing a beat, the Cal Student replies: "At Cal, they dont teach us to pee on our hands."

May 09, 2008


Let me give you some background. I kinda was an unofficial adopted buddy of this girl I knew in the University of California Rally Committee. We became fast friends and we'd do some things together. Somewhere in the middle of the year, my pink slip somehow had been transferred to her roommate. Then her roommate and I spent more time together. It didn't eliminate me from my first friend, but it did mean I saw less of her. Her roommate worked at my residence hall cluster so it was much easier to see her than my friend.

But now we're getting into complicated relationship stuff of which I still am confused about.

It was around Christmas time when I received the invitation. It sounded like fun, It'd be my second party of the year. Sure we had done some illegal things in the dorms, but there's only so many people you can meet over and over again. So I arrive, dressed up a little. Shirt, tie. that's about it. But if you knew me, you'd know that I'm an awkward wall flower. For the most part. I actually find it difficult to mingle with groups where everyone knows everyone else, but I only know a third of the people. I actually tend to follow a person for the evening, but that gets kidna creepy. But the party's over, i'm leaving, good bye then.

In the middle of winter, there's this thing called Men's Basketball and there's barely enough people to constitute a rooting section, but locals were usually there, and I had no way of getting home until 12 midnight. So I decided to crash my friend's place for the night. My first friend, the one I mentioned first, was away. Wait... no she wasn't. She was getting ready for a date with some boy she had met on New Year's. I had a thing for her. She was pretty and smart. Well, is, to be correct. But I had no chance at this point. She's still dating him. But that's beside the point. I was thrown two blankets when sleepy time came. I put the Oleg blanket on first, then their new fuzzy, totally awesome blanket. That was warm. The lights went out, everyone retired to their rooms, leaving me in the common area. They forgot to put out the Christmas lights on the wall. No matter, it was like a night light. I rocked to sleep with the patter of gale force rain on the window panes, the word CALIFORNIA was lit up, enblazed in my mind. My eyes drooped, weighted with lead. They were mere slits now, the only thing I could see in my mind was the California Banner.

I woke up, the morning was groggy certainly. I could hear the vehicles in the street leave lines of water in the slick street. A bus would rumble by and you could recgonize its characteristic low rumble from the massive engine. But I stared at the brown couch and to my surprise, there was an unfamiliar shape. It wasn't their cat. It was long and it had long hair. One of my blankets had moved in the night too. Must be Oleg. I put on my glasses, and certainly enough, it was Oleg. I called his name softly. His only response was a soft "phut" from under the blanket. It took me awhile to realize that it was him farting.

I put my jacket on, threw the rugby in my bag, and looked around. No one was awake. Not my friend, or her roommate. I figured i'd see them soon anyways. So I left. I stared up at the windows from the outside and the only thing I could see was CALIFORNIA.

May 08, 2008

Oh the things the internet will say...

Everyone's done. Once, or twice, or daily. They've Googled themselves, or someone else, or someone of a particular interest. Not just the popular celebrities, but the common man, the guy who works at a job and doesn't appear on TV. We're that person. We google ourselves for the hell of it, to see what we'd look like, or just plain see if we even make internet recognition. Let me tell you, you wont really find me by my name, but now if you were to use my screen name or gamertag, then yes, its much more likely. If you ever urban dictionary search your name, you'll certainly get blown away by the much more interesting *ahem* definitions:

my name: Zach

so here's some favorite definitions

1. A name of a person who is often smart, cunning, dresses well and likes to have fun. A party goer that attracts many people with his intellect, jokes, and good smile.

2. Zach- N. literally translated to... the great women seducer.. in ancient the Greek language. Usually having an urge to have sex for more then 7 hours.

Ok, well those are my only favorite definitions. The rest get kinda weird and kinky, sadistic and insulting.