Punch-drunk philosopher.

If you are a regular reader, then you know that I am not a heavy drinker. Not at all. I suppose that, if I did drink more like my doctor told me to in Boston, I would be a bit more relaxed or laid-back or at least less prone to worrying about things like car accidents or testicular cancer (my friend got it three years ago, and I'm in the age group: 18-30) or what impression I make on my fellow grad students in the department or on my professors or the fact that -- because I have a fellowship and do not have to teach yet and because I am one reticent bastard -- I don't know very many people in my department. I don't think that drinking would make me relax per se, but the same sentiment which would let me allow myself to have a drink more often may be the one that would help me relax. So I'm pretty drunk right now. I know, it's annoying when people blog drunkenly. Sorry. But I thought that the sentiment which would allow me to relax could use a little help. He's not a strong sentiment, and that fear of wrecking the Mazda or of getting a cancerous testicle removed is one strong little son of a bitch, and he wants domination. Screw him. I'm only 25, and I have plenty of time to worry about things in the future, no? Besides, getting drunk and confessing to people I've never met in different countries might be at least a little cathartic, right? I don't know. My regularly punch-drunk* behavior is usually balanced by caffeine, but not so much with the vodka (which is Sky, since the guy who makes it is in Mensa -- "The High I.Q. Society" -- to which I used to belong, until I got sick of paying the dues and until I realized that putting it on my C.V would only make me sound like a tool -- yeah, I fooled Mensa. Me, a genius? Nah. Hah!). Excuse me. My confession turns to rambling and goes too far, and I'm not quite coordinated enough for editing or spell-checking. Shit, this mess is going out to the internet. Oh, well. If you don't think I'm nuts already, now you know. "And knowing is half the battle. G.I. Joe!" *[I have some weird head injuries, including some concussions (football in gym class, falling out of a tree, busting my head wide open once, etc.) and a dent from my forcepts birth (really). Maybe that explains a lot, including my choice of vocation.]