On the mountains.

So, no 6.6 today, instead our teacher had what I would consider a relatively uncreative idea, and just had us run up and down the same hill for half an hour. Why? No-one can say. The 6.6 is next week, but in honesty, it's not really going to be the 6.6. He has said that everyone's just going to run their best. Which means it'll be the 4.4 for a small few, the 2.2 for most, and the 6.6 for none, as running that distance in under 30 minutes is beyond the ken of most mortal men.

Bleh. Like the shawshank redemption, there was word passed out today by none other than the teacher himself that one of our fellow runners had indeed escaped to greener pastures. And by greener pastures, I mean Table Tennis. Yes, Table Tennis, the Valhalla of Games options, where one can play one of the sporting worlds' silliest sports, dilly-dally about, or just do homework, while chatting amiably with friends, and for all I can conceive, sipping martinis. Alas, my friends Nicole and Brian already attend such a fabled option, and I am frequently taunted by their superior fortunes. So this is Lorcan Murphy with his rockhammer, desperately hoping he can get out to the Se Wateneo of table tennis. I need Nicole and Brian, they are the kinda folk who can get things, from time to time.

In different news, I am going to see Paramore in december, and am currently working my way into a liking of the band, which is easy-going. I'm thinking I'm gonna buy "All we know is falling" and "Riot!" thus far. I like the lyrics. Paramore seem like a pretty genuine band as far as I can tell, and that endears me to them. Honesty in their lyrics of equal portions trouble and mirth. Good listening.

I am not, however, going to buy "The Final Riot!", I do not think. It's "Riot!" But live. The latter part of the album is pretty freakin' sweet, but the first half is heavy-laden with concert speak, which has always rubbed me a the wrong way. Perhaps it is my ancient distaste for worship leaders who whip their congregations into a frenzy simply for the sake of a frenzy spilling over into a more secular setting. But all the same, when someone tells me to put my hands in the air, and encourage me to exclaim that I was "born for this", I am more likely to fold them over in reluctance and ask for an explanation of what exactly "this" is, before I devote my whole existence to whatever it is. Who knows, sweet and lovely Haley could secretly be talking about crack for all I know. It's happened before. I thought "Coin Operated Boy" was the most bittersweet song about impersonal sex while craving a deeper loving relationship, and boy, was I wrong. Insofar as the main object of the song's focus flew over my head like an airplane, leaving only an echo in it's wake, for me to flippantly look up and question: "Did anyone just hear something?". I am not one for casual declarations, I suppose. But that all said, I am loving their music.

"I put my faith in you so much faith, and then you, just threw it away." - Paramore "For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic" (no emotional relevance, I just like that line in the song :P)