Push from above

I'd been planning on posting more often, but the impending doom of law school exams has been beating me into submission. Have you ever walked through a waterfall? It looks fun from a distance, then as you get closer the water starts to get louder, and the spray starts to sting your eyes. Maybe you begin to wonder if this is such a good idea, but you squint against the sharp assault, and continue on. Now you've gone too far to turn back. As you make it under the falling water, it beats down with incredible force on your head and shoulders, forcing you down, enveloping all. You can't hear, can't see, can't think. There is only the waterfall and you.
Hopefully you emerge through the other side, into a secret cave, or mossy bank, and it's all been worth it. Hopefully.

Going back back back.....gone

One of my best friends is insane. She has gone back to the boyfriend who cheated on her (for months) last year. After hearing all summer about how much better she was than him, about how he was fat, bald, and didn't treat her right, and about how she would never talk to him, she goes back. I just cannot understand this. She is a smart, fun, and kind girl, seemingly competent in all other areas of her life, yet she goes back. What would possess a sane person to do this?

Her concerned and loving friends have tried to stop this. We echo back the complaints we've heard a thousand times, we appeal to reason, faith, vanity, pride. Anything. But nothing works. Now we've become the bad guys, the enemy, and are just driving her closer to him. The usurper. But what else are we to do? Yes, people have to make their own mistakes, but this one should have already been learned! This isn't the first time for her. Going back. Are we so needing of affection, so lonely, that we return to the familiar, no matter the cost? She is not the first or last to jump back in the pool, but she is drowning, and there is nothing we can do to help.

Smooth as silk

I was conflicted what I should write about for my first substantive post. Should it be a little background (I'm a law student in New York), maybe a rant on something that is bothering me (Stuart A Scott), perhaps an amusing anectode (like the time my buddy got shit on in India). Then I realized that no one is reading this anyway, except for Dunes who so nicely commented without saying anything. I have kept this anonymous in the spirit of complete revelation and honesty, and can therefore tell no one I know about MLAAF, so what I write today doesn't matter, as long as it doesn't suck. So here is what I will write about today: shaving. I hope it doesn't suck.

I like to keep my business in order, if you know what I mean. The girls prefer it, and who am I to argue. So today I'm trimmin the hedge, and start to wonder, why not go all the way? I mean, guys in pornos do it (or so I'm told), so there must be some advantages. Perhaps increased mojo, less flossing, increased bloodflow, whatever. I mean, whatever it is, it must work, they're the kings of their domain, right? So I decide to step it up, and become king of my own domain, which at that time meant the bathroom. After some mach 3 action I'm smooth as silk. Then I see myself in the mirror and start to think "hey, those bodybuilder guys shave their chests (or so I'm told), they seem to do alright with the girls, maybe there's some correlation...". Ok, I didn't actually think that, I'm just trying to think up some reason after the fact. Anyways, I whip out the razor and shave my chest. Now I'm beginning to look a little like a 12 year old boy, not a pornstar bodybuilder, but Frog has never been known for his restraint. What's next on the agenda? My ass. Bye bye peach fuzz. Now I'm turning back and forth, admiring my handiwork in the mirror, and the horror of what I've done starts to sink in. I am now hairless from my neck to my upper thighs. Combined with my decently hairy legs and arms, I look absolutely ridiculous. I realize that I have neither the equipment to be a pornstar, nor the muscles to be a bodybuilder, and it is probably not the lack of hair that qualifies one for either of those vaunted careers. I'm sure I have ingrown hairs and unbearable itchiness to look forward to, and for what? I can't show anyone I know (hey roommate, check out what I did!), and this isn't something that I feel would play in my favor with any new girls I might meet. I think the complete shave is an idea you bring up after a few months of dating, not something you drop the first time you see each other naked. So in the end, really, I suppose all I'm left with is another self excuse for why I'm still single, and an itch I can't scratch in public.

And it begins...

So the question is, what begins? At this point, I'm not really sure. Well, at this point, I'm yelling into the void, but everyone's gotta start somewhere. This will hopefully be a space to tell some stories, have some laughs, and do some self exploration, and hopefully be interesting enough for people to waste their time reading it. And if not? Well, at least I put off studying for a few hours a week.