Dude

I cannot write this paper.
It's on a book about Islamic women.
I have no topic.
I do, however, only have 2 hours and 15 minutes until it is due.

I suck at being a student.

I really like being here, and going to classes (except NT, that is), and learning things.
I just suck at making myself write the papers.
Alas.

Blah

Spring Break was overwhelming, and now it is just over.

I'll write about my trip to New Orleans soon,
and maybe even post some pictures.

However, in the meantime
I feel blah.
I got sick the other day, and I didn't have a restful break.
Thus, I am mildly feeble.

I have a book to read tonight
for a meeting that might be happening
with my prof at 10am.
I have not read said book.
And I am tired.

Mostly I just feel blah.
Not super stoked.
Not majorly bummed.
Just plain old blah.

Kirby's gone to the great outfield in the sky

Kirby Puckett made me a baseball fan.

When I was in 4th grade, the school patrol (tiny little crossing guards) went to a Twins game. We played the Orioles -- I remember because I kept calling them the "Oreos," and because one kid wore an Orioles hat it got thrown out the bus window.
Anyway, our seats were at the top of the Metrodome, and I could barely see the field. I don't remember much of the game, but I do remember Kirby. Whenever he was up, the announcer would call "Kirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee Pucccccketttttt!"

I was sold.

Later that season, my Twins went to the World Series ('87). I got my homer hanky from the Star Tribune. I waved it. I cheered. I watched Kirby cross himself each time he stepped up to the plate. I watched him jump higher than a short man (several inches shy of 6') should be able to. They won. I was happy.

I wanted a Kirby bear.

I moved to the South in 1988, right into Braves territory. In 1991, my friend Kari (a fellow Minnesotan by birth) and I wore our matching Twins tshirts to junior high to cheer our team, and to ruffle local feathers. I got dangly earrings with quarter-sized baseballs that said "Twins," and oh yeah you bet I wore them. I taunted my classmates. I told my friends that they'd be disappointed, because Hrbek, Gladden, Blyleven, and Puckett would do it again.

Don't worry. I was right. My Twins won.
It was a Cinderella Series, and my Cinderella kicked the Braves' Cinderella Ass. Nah, it was close. It was exciting. It made me very happy.



And now, I live in Atlanta. I go to bunches of Braves games. I just bought a block of tickets for this season.
But I am a Twins fan in my soul ("at heart" is not strong or deep enough). I love the Twins. If ever there was an underdog, if ever there was a hard stadium to play in... if ever there was a team that loved the game enough to beat the odds and win the series -- that team was my Twins in '87 and '91.

And now, my favorite baseball player has died.

Let me tell you more about why he rocked. He played only 12 years (1984-1996), but:
He played in 10 consecutive All-Star games.
He stayed with one team for his whole career.
When he retired, he held the club record for hits, doubles, total bases, at bats, and runs.


Kirby was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2001.

http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2357158
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/wire?section=mlb&id=2355887
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/wire?section=mlb&id=2357209

Goodbye, Puck.