That's always been the unspoken fear, hasn't it...? The thing that'd plague you in your sleep... That one day, you'll stumble, and whatever darkness laps at your heels will swallow you whole. Is this that time, love? Is the darkness bearing down closer that it ever has? And are you running out of straight to stay ahead of it?
- Kevin Smith, Guardian Devil

"And a Child Shall Lead Them All"
I often bemoan the fact that I'm a 21-year-old who watches Teen Titans religiously. I don't play at being an adult very well, and I think it shows. My inner child is the warrior despot of my psyche.

Today, however, I'm going to go ahead and say that there's no shame in preferring Cartoon Network to CNN. I don't believe it, but I say stuff I don't believe all the time, and sometimes if I say it long enough, I start to believe it, so who knows?

"The Unexamined Life"
Lotsa people think that being a Daredevil English Major is as simple as being an English major who takes tests without studying and putting papers off until the razor-thin breadth of the last minute. Well they were right until this semester.

On the cusp of graduation, a large part of the DEM philosophy is doing whatever it takes to avoid your former professors (like say, ducking behind benches or jumping into dumpsters) so you don't have to answer awkward questions about what you're planning to do afterward. Not an easy feat on a campus like this. And when they do spot you trying to climb up into the high branches of a tree, dancing around answering those tough questions takes just as much cavalier flair and daring-do as everything else you'll face.

"I'm looking at grad school," no longer works the way it once did, because at this point you really should have applied. Whatever you do, don't tell them your actual plans. Don't say: "I'm going to live with my grandmother in New Jersey and work on a (graphic) novel -- oh, and I might see if I can get a job at Wizard Magazine."

Don't say that, and don't tell them that you're tired of analyzing literature. Don't tell them that you're starting to think that while the unexamined life might not be worth living, the undisected book is well worth reading.

And definitely don't tell them that you've given any thought to a masters in journalism. Don't tell anyone that.

"Dystopia"
I got a few comments on this subject, and while I usually stand firm in my belief that I should never apologize for my art, I'm sorry I subjected you all to the thought of me marrying Colleen.

(Did I just describe this blog as art? Yes. Yes I did.)

I could try to defend my actions by saying I was just kidding, but there are some things -- like Matthew Shepherd, September 11th, or Truman the Tiger -- that you just can't make jokes about. Not if you want to be a sensitive, caring human being. I guess I didn't realize that marrying Colleen was one of those.

I deeply and sincerely apologize.

"The Devil's Distaff"
Erin recently asked if I'm bothered by the fact that I have so many female friends. It was right after one of those group situations where everyone's talking about how gorgeous Paul Rudd is, and no matter how many times this happens -- and it happens far more frequently than you'd think -- I never know whether or not I'm supposed to say "Oh, he's a hunk" to show just how comfortable I am with my own sexuality, or if I should mention that Mr. Rudd's from Overland Park, KS, which is in the KC metropolitan area, and that he was the grand marshall at the Plaza Lighting ceremony a few years back. Anyhoozle, I don't remember if I lied and said no or not.

We've got this tradition at The Barrio -- which is weird, because it's an apartment I've lived in for half a year, not a long standing ethnic community with a distinctive culture or anything -- where anytime Brent Jones, Part II is about to say something about women, I sing this little ditty to the tune of the Pat theme song from SNL ten years back or so: It's time for misogyny, it's just Brent!

If I had a point, I don't know what it was. But I do wonder about one more thing in the realm of the distaff: Why is it that when I try to give someone my heart, their response always seems to be, Well that's really very nice, but could I have your soul?

"Devil's Despair"
I get depressed sometimes. Who doesn't? But don't you see a value in the sorrow? Have you never known a beautiful sadness?

"The Devil Divested"
Do you think I have intimacy issues? I don't mean floppy pee-pee problems, I mean do you think I have difficulty connecting with people? I mean, the obvious answer seems to be No, stupid. You bare your soul basically biweekly on the internet. I know more about you than I'm really comfortable with, but what if I actually do have more going on in my head and heart than Spider-Man and bad jokes about Kate Jeffries?

One of the rules of the Smallville drinking game is to take a drink everytime someone says that Clark's secretive, the sample Lana line being "We can't be close because you're too closed, you're too closed so we can't be close." There's another rule about taking a drink every time a vehicle gets totalled -- two drinks if it's a Kent family pick-up, but I digress. Actually, I've completely forgotten why I brought this up in the first place...

"The Devil's Demon"
Get behind me, whack job.

"The Devil's Deliverance"
It's wrong to believe that the Daredevil English Major is a man without fear. He's no one special. In his heart of hearts he's just another unfocused fool who can't get his shit together until the eleventh hour. If he was truly someone worth remarking upon, he'd overcome that basic need to procrastinate. He'd stop living for tomorrow and live for today. He'd learn his lesson and do his work ahead of time. He'd do it sooner than later.

So what is it that drives him? What is it that keeps him from taking those two steps ahead of the game, but also keeps him from throwing up his hands and just turning that assignment in late?

Faith, of course. Why? What'd you get out of bed for?