This week I made a interesting discovery about myself . . .  I'm not that old. (And no, I didn't make that discovery by examining my drivers license, in case you were wondering.) The events that led up this enlightenment were not that simply spelled out, whacking me over the head with brutal honesty. Rather, the particular occurrences blended in with the natural dilly dallies of a normal day, and only upon later reflection did their true meanings slowly dawn upon me.

To illustrate, the first reason why I happened to stumble upon this internal revelation was because this past week coincided with the 24th birthday of my wife, Kayo. Though a usually happy occurrence in the past, this birthday seemed to be greeted with noticeably less enthusiasm than a few previous ones, such as her 18th or 21st. Her weeping and moaning made me realize that I, a youngster at the tender age of 23, had a lot to do before my youth fled from my ownership, dashing off giggling further into the distance as my feeble legs move slower and slower from life's grand marathon.

My second realization occurred at the setting of the Ohio State Fair. A grand, week-long event, attractions varied from parades, contests of livestock, horrifically greasy-yet-good-tasting food and amusement rides. It was on one of those fair rides that I later found myself on, as a result of Kayo's pleading, strapped in cage, being flipped and flung about into the air. The ride's metallic arms and Earth's gravity each were in a heated contest with the other to see how many of riders they could induce to vomit. While being mercilessly tossed around in my little deathtrap, I realized my guts was not the only thing to be flying around in my cage. Somehow managing to escape my pocket, my cell phone was smashing around the cage, threatening to brain all its occupants. Quick thinking managed to trap it against the floor with my feet, but another few minutes of the cage spinning ruthlessly about caused it to escape and fling through the bars onto the pavement, 20 feet below. The remainder of the ride I mourned, occasionally managing to catch a glimpse of my poor gadget, laying in a couple pieces down below.

As the ride came to a stop and I searched to gather my cell phone's remains, I was amazed. Though beat up, only the battery had fallen off and when it was placed back together, the phone turned on. I later realized that this was by no means a small occurrence. This was the stuff of legend. Years down the road, when I turn 24 and my hair turns grey, when I collect my retirement check and my grandchildren sit on my knee, I will wistfully recount the good old days when cell phones were made tough and durable, not like the fancy schmancy delicate junk that they will making later. I will sigh and say "oh, those were the days when I was young. I lived them out to the fullest and I am glad."

Recently, I've been writing articles for three of Ohio State's school papers, The Lantern, UWeekly and Fisher INK. I'm so happy because it's something I've been wanting to do for a long time and I'm glad I can find people willing to listen to me rant. It's like a form of psychiatry, only I've got thousands of people ready to listen and sincerely nod their head as they wonder when I'll finish talking.

Below is something I put together after interviewing John Lipsteuer what he thought of OSU's plan on requiring their sophomores to live on campus instead of their own apartments. I had to make significant changes so this version didn't get printed.

                                                WILL YOU MARRY ME?                                                                         

                    (One Student's Response To New Plan To Make Sophmores Campus-Bound)                                  

"Are you serious?!" This was the first reaction John Lipstreuer had when he
first heard of the possible new rule of sophomores being required to live in
dorms. "I mean, I think it's a good idea for freshmen to get the college experience
of dorm life. Where else can you experience sharing a room with 3 strangers,
bonding as only people who hear each other snore and pass gas every night
can bond? But another year here . . . damn."

Apparently, the relative high cost wasn't much of an issue. As John pointed out,
while he would be paying around $330 for a larger apartment off-campus with
only one roommate, it is almost exactly what he is paying now to live in a dorm
a lot closer to campus. But, “I was really looking forward to having my own place
for the first time.”

Then John was told about the three exceptions that would allow sophomores to
live outside the dorms. Either live with his family, get married, or somehow gain
a serious physical disability. After some serious thinking he crossed off getting
injured. John commented, “wow, so if they pass this requirement, I’m going to
have to find a girl. I know you hear women are demanding and a lot of work, but
you should see my roommates. One of them has this pile of junk about waist-high,
with papers still stacked from orientation, useless foam cup holders and about
everything else a bum would normally through away. A wife would clean all that
up wouldn’t she? Do you know anyone?”

It's been a while since I last wrote down anything. Some new things have happened since the last time I was here. My family went to France, Kayo and I went to New Jersey, school started again, and Kayo is moving to her own apartment.

(<--- not really my picture )

It's funny when I tell people this, because their first assumption is that Kayo and I had a "falling out" in our relationship, she needs to take a "break", AND that it is probably my fault.

Concerned Individual: Hiro, it's going that bad huh?

I protest: No! It's not like that! She has to be closer to school . . . that's all.

Concerned Individual: *nods* of course. I see . . . but there's this good book I would like you to read . . .

But besides not buying her flowers for over three years, and her discovering all her Christmas presents before I even bought them, I think we're doing pretty fine as a couple. Uh, right sweatheart?

Anyway, on a different topic, I made an interesting discovery today. I arrived late to my Communication class because the COTA buses had changed their schedules without telling me. 10 minutes late and not wanting everyone to stare at me as I straggled into class and think how fat I looked, I was forced to sit somewhere in the back of the classroom instead of the usual front.

So there I was, taking out my notebook trying to hear my professor when I made a breakthrough scientific discovery. A new species, previously unkown to the scientific community of the civilization of Hiromitsu, was sitting right next to me. They were a type of college students I had never really met before. I shall call them Homo  Schola de Higha Schoolio in the genus category of Collegentia. For those of you who can't understand Latin, it means: college students that act like they're in high school.

Experts from the civilization of Hiromitsu say the family group Collegentia usually is fairly serious when it comes to studying, especially the ones previously encountered in habitats known as classrooms. But these newly observed female specimens showed unusual behaviors such as chatting back and forth as the professor lectured, sketching in their notebooks, texting on their phones, etc. It was noticed that they were deeply involved in a sort of mating ritual, writing down names of potential mates, the # of offspring, places to make their nest, sort of occupation, etc. and then systematically crossing them off to arrive at some sort of conclusion.

Though rumors of such species existed, the sheer disregard for their natural surroundings might shock even the most experienced observer. This calls forth the question whether this evolutionary trait will soon be weeded out through natural selection as their natural predators, scientifically known as Mid-Termia, begin their regular hunting season in a few weeks.

If you have come into contact with this species, please let me know. And take the proper safety precautions. Like play dead.

Gorillas and Basketball. You know, it's funny how you can make comparisons between things that might seem completely unrelated, but yet have elements in common. Like my anthropology class and playing basketball at the gym.  

I just took my midterm in anthropology (the study of human evolution) this afternoon, and a big focus was on primates. One of the people we learned about was Diane Fossey, a scientist who mixed in and got accepted by a gorilla troop. An amazing women, almost everything we know about gorillas we learned from her. Imagine going into a jungle all alone, introducing yourself to a wild, completely different species, and succussfully modifying your behavior so that they accepted you? Even though I don't know exactly how she felt when she first approached those huge, 400 pound beasts, but I felt I could relate to her when I visted the basketball court later on that afternoon.

I know most people won't be able to relate. I'm also kinda worried I'm scheduling myself for a beat down after comparing gym dudes to a gorilla troop. (But c'mon, I'm sure we all like to flex our muscles sometimes right?)

But personally, when I step onto the court with all these big dudes, I sometimes feel like an outsider, a nerd and a jock wannabe. Call it my razor sharp observation skills or my cunning deduction capabilities, but when I get kicked off teams even when we win, or when I get picked last or not at all, I start getting suspicious that others see me the same way. 

Tired of being an outcast, my next thought was naturally, "What would Diane Fossey do?"

So I sat down and started to watch from the sidelines. What makes me stick out? Is it my glasses? Am I not wearing the swishy shorts like everyone else on the court? Or do I just plain suck?

After watching people play for a while, I guess I realized that yes, I do kinda suck. But not by a whole lot. People were missing layups, shots were airballed from the three point line, and yet . . . they didn't project that loser aura that I did when I missed a shot. Is it some sort of animal instinct to puff up your chest and pretend you're all bad so that other people don't walk all over you? Even though it's not really me, do I have to put on a face of complete self confidence and mimick the tough guy personas just so I can play?

I guess so.

So instead of waiting to be picked for the team to play the next game, I decided to pick out the guys who were going to play with me. Instead of sighing and apologizing to the team when I missed a shot, I shrugged if off and tried to get it back. And finally, after changing my attitude and behavior, I could at last say I didn't feel looked at as an outsider.

I know many people will just think I'm silly, but I still feel like Napolean Dynamite would after whooping Summer Wheatly's boyfriend Don in tetherball. Even though we didn't win both games, I still felt a lot more accomplished then after any win from before.

But please, gorilla dudes, don't beat me up.

I never liked Jane Austen.

You know, the female auther who wrote such mega chick flicks such as Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. It's pretty incredible how many fans she has out there. Not only are there like FIVE remakes of the movie Pride and Prejudice, but there are also fan movies that came out like Becoming Jane (about a supposed romance in her life) and the Jane Austen Book Club.

One reason why I don't like her stories is the nature of the society that she writes about. Basically in those types of social circles, a young women's main goal in life is to marry that "perfect guy" (a guy with a lot of money). Why learn to play an instrument? To get attractive wife points. Why stay indoors on sunny days so your skin stays chalky white? To get attractive wife points. Why even be alive? Because being dead makes you lose all your attractive wife points. Even Elizabeth, the supposedly rebelious main character, falls in love with a guy who also just happens to be very rich.

But to be honest though, the other reason why I don't like her work is that it reminds me of the nature of the society that I live in. Being at Ohio State and attending student meetings on resumes, interviews and internships I realize how much we have in common with the young women going crazy when a gentleman caller visits.

To hear people speak, it seems as if their main goal in life is to get that "perfect job" (a job that pays a lot of money). Why dress nice? Get you some good job points.Why get good grades in school? Gets you some resume points. Why join clubs and become the President? Why study abroad? Very good resume points.

I somehow don't like to think of my life as a mission of making myself look pretty for the job interviewer. There has to be more to my life than that right?! That goes for you too you crazy Jane Austen fanatics. Wake up, Darcy is FICTION! Even if he wasn't, he'd be dead for 200 years!

Jane Austen fan: "Well, look who's talking Mr. Star Wars fan! At least we believe in something like love, even though its only for rich men!"

Me: "I believe in the timeless battle of good and evil."

Jane Austen fan: "Well, at least we don't dress up in silly costumes and pretend we're something we're not!"

Me: "Don't you wear makeup?"

Jane Austen fan: *pause* "ok, touche."

Oh well, maybe that's why I studying to be in Human Resources.