Chocolate Milk

Well here I am, back in the video lab at CSUSM after a lengthy-ish winter break. After all that happened last semester, I realize how much I've missed this place, and how much it really became my home during the last four months of 2008. My first class session of the semester was for Global Modern Dance, which I just came from. No movement today, but it looks like I'll be waltzing in front of an audience for the end of semester dance show. Doesn't seem too scary yet, despite my suspicions of me being the only guy in this class being confirmed immediately upon arrival this morning. No matter, I remain excited at the prospect of trying something new.

While seemingly everyone was watching the inauguration ceremonies this morning, I was scrambling to buy a parking permit and a few minor school supplies and make it in time to my first class. I wasn't happy at the prospect of having to pay $250 for a parking permit - it's the same price they usually charge per semester, but the parking this semester has been severely limited due to them closing down one of the main lots for redevelopment, the benefits of which I'll never see during the course of my stay at this school. It disturbs me that at 9:30 am this morning the next best lot was already entirely full. I shudder to think where I may be parking should I arrive in the afternoon. How exactly I'm going to approach this parking situation for the rest of the semester remains to be seen.

When I arrived to the studio out of breath at 9:58 am, mere minutes before the start of class, I was greeted with a sign which read "Dance class will start at 11 am today. ASSIGNMENT: Watch the inauguration ceremonies." Well, great. So much for rushing. I was of course bitter because I would have loved to have been at home watching the spectacle in DC. Regardless, I sat down and pulled out my laptop and was able to watch some live streaming stuff on the CNN website, but by then I had missed most of it (though I was able to catch Bush's exit, as well as some of the weird inaugural luncheon, which creeped me out for reasons I can't explain.) Later, they uploaded the video of Obama's speech, which was just as chills-inducing as I was expecting.

So now I sit here writing, waiting for 3 pm to roll around for Advanced Video Production class, and waiting for some friendly faces to eventually show up at some point, as I know they're destined to do. I know at least two of my friends from performing arts share this class with me, which is an exciting prospect, indeed. I hope that some more ridiculous student films are in our near future.


I was thinking about chocolate milk the other day. I love chocolate milk - it goes good with most meals and generally just brightens my day when I drink it, even if only a little bit. I tend to drink mine a little watered down, though, using far less chocolate than most would. That's good for me, because that typically means that the syrup / Nesquik powder ends up lasting longer before I have to buy more. Not too long ago I found myself in exactly that predicament - nearing the end of the container, with only enough scoops left for maybe one or two glasses. Every time I reach that point I think to myself "Crap, where did it all go?"

When you buy new chocolate milk, that thought never occurs to you. Or at least to me. Well, not until the other day, that is. Usually, my only thoughts are "Chocolate milk. Yeah! Alright! This is gonna go great with my eggs / pizza / hot dog / ham sammich!" But the other day I went to make some and my thoughts were different. For whatever reason, I looked at the reasonably full container, the mounds of brown grain like sand dunes in a great, chocolately Sahara, and was able to appreciate the wonder of such of a sight. I thought to myself "This container isn't always going to be like this." I knew that, eventually, it too would reach the point where patches of yellow are visible on the bottom of the container, and you know that your chocolate milk drinking days are nearly over (even if only temporarily.)

Anyone who would claims that time is an illusion has clearly never had chocolate milk before. If they had, they'd know that things are finite - they have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Even something as simple as a can of Nesquik can hold such profound discoveries as this. You really have to enjoy every glass as if it's your last glass, because when you do finally reach that last glass, who knows if or when you'll have another? I mean, hell, what if the grocery store is closed, you know?

This is how I want to live my life - like drinking a big, tall, frosty glass of chocolate milk. At some point I'm going to run out, so I need to enjoy it as much as possible until then. I'm going to start by enjoying every literal glass of chocolate milk much more, from now on. I'm going to follow that up by waltzing in front of an audience. After that, who knows? Sky diving, perhaps? This world provides limitless possibilities.

Life, bring it on.