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If anyone else had been there, or if anyone had even come by, I wouldn’t have been the state I was in. It’s only through the hours of solitary studying, where the content is ungraspable and so is the purpose that the content would even exist in the first place or that the content would be taught in a class and decided to be put against students in a test or that that singular test would decide...

The well-mannered sophisticate you’ve come to know to be the author of these whimsical anecdotes actually shares the tarnished record of his subjects, as you may have suspected. All the aliases in the world can’t distance me from the shame and misconduct some of these blog posts contain. But today is an exception. This story is about me, guileless, with a proud message… if you can get to the end...

I’ll be brief: when I was eight, girls in my class broke into my house while my family was on vacation. It’s difficult to precisely mark the origin of my ego, but a psychologist’s guess could place it as the prepubescent years when girls came knocking on my door calling my name. From grades one to four, my house was the frequent victim of nicky-nicky-nine-doors and Rapunzel-esque calls to my...

This is a story of one of my many entrepreneurial efforts, a story of optimism, nostalgia. This is the story of how I planned, paid for, and hosted a blacklight dance in my home town the summer after my second year of university. October 2012: Near my house there is an event hall owned by the Knights of Columbus organization, a Catholic fraternal group. I had driven by the building all my life...

In tenth grade, I had a lunchtime booty call, of sorts. It didn’t end well. This is the story of messy pubescent energy. One of my many escapades that wasn’t like the movies. First, you need to know, I had history with the girl. We’ll call her Jewel. She went to a different elementary school but I met her through a classmate of mine. In seventh grade, our dance started exactly...

I knew the officer was going to pin me with a ticket for not having lights on my bike, and that is why I found myself fleeing from his patrol SUV across campus. I had been studying late in the engineering building and the university was now dark and quiet. I got on my bike at 11:30pm, followed the smaller paths behind some campus buildings, and made my way out to the main street on the west side...

Remember assemblies? Assemblies were fine in elementary school but I mainly thought of them as a bore. In high school I liked them because they meant getting out of class. As I’m thinking back, it seems like we had a fair amount of assemblies from grades nine to twelve. I don’t know what they were all about. I recall one about investing, one with local political candidates, and of course the...

I make a point of excluding stories on this blog that only exist because the subjects of the story were drunk. Although I love telling a handful of famous drunken stories face-to-face, I don’t write them here for a few reasons. First, everyone does ridiculous things when they are drunk; the anecdotes collected here are about the characters and their choices, not the ethanol in their bloodstreams...

On the day of my grandfather’s funeral, my brother and I got in a street race… kind of. We called him Bobby — my granddad on my mother’s side. He was a great man. He died when he was 82, and I was 15. That means my brother was 17. I remember it clearly for many reasons, including the event below, and also because it was my first (and so far, only) close family death. I...