I live a health bar-reducing lifestyle.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Saturday, June 26, 2010 12:40 PM

In the matter of seconds, one's life can flip 180 degrees. Just as mine has.

My hand slightly quivered as I held the fine point BIC in my right hand. My signature came out a bit flustered and shaken. They say the signature is the window of the soul. And by "they", I mean the three calligraphy professors at the University of Tennessee with names all based off 1950s sci-fi television shows. If they were to analyze my signature, which is often mistaken for a blind scribble or a third-century hieroglyphic, they would concur that in the very moment that I signed my apartment lease form, I was nervously excited. When one moves out, it is a sign of freedom, independence. It is the start of a new life. It was the start of my new life, again. Everything seemed to be going my way, a.k.a. south-east. When it started not going my way was when Breneider and I found out that my apartment was on the top floor. I was decently fine since I was only carrying one of the suitcases and a palmful of papers. Breneider was complaining like a bent muffler. My lair laid leering with a little number four on the door. The number four is neither a good number nor a bad one. Just a number. I took a breath, it wasn't the deep kind of breath, just a normal person exhalation. I opened the door. I was greeted with a "Can I help you" stare. Shortly followed by the words "can I help you". My new roommate, Ryan "ribcage" Michaels, sat in his nest playing an odd box with a small man stuck inside who shot spells out his eyes and sang songs that lured cats to join weight-loss programs. "I live here," I inserted,
obviously throwing off the space time continuum that surrounds such a "health bar reducing" lifestyle. "You got the middle room," i heard him chant. I briefly paused to wonder if this was a good thing, a bad thing, or not a thing at all. Turns out it was a magic thing, which wasn't even one of my three options. Tricky magicians. My mere presence in such a cracker jack box sized shared room seemed to defy all forms of gravity, physics, ethics and Lamaze breathing techniques. This is just the beginning of a ride in which you are required to keep your seat belt insecurely fastened, all limbs outside the ride at all times, and your tray table waaaaay down.
                          Hesitantly,
                                          Kyle

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