weeks pondering: not expecting does not mean not trying

during my hiatus, i pondered much. over the past few weeks, i've mulled over the point of our existence--as WHALES--and the hard work and dedication we've put into this most important assemblage. i've received many letters (incidentally, i apologize that i've been far too busy--pondering and mulling--to answer any of them), and, as i've said before, most suck--but there are a few that contain valid questions. today, i'd like to address one particularly excellent query that has been top-of-mind.

no, dear readers, having low expectations does NOT mean you don't pursue your man-object of desire. (it merely means you endeavor to pursue more than that, or, rather, less.) if you see the golden ring, you grab for it. you hang off that horse--hell, you fall off that horse--let's face it, what have you got to lose? (if you're anything like me: nothing.) to elucidate, i share with you a story:

at university, i was a downhill ski racer. i was never favored to win, ever, and so never expected that i would. but it never stopped me from trying. oh no, that it did not. oh, mayhap i overimbibed mid-season, but i missed nary a practice, never missed a race, and as sick, reeking of booze, as repulsive as i oft was, no one could say i didn't commit, or at least show up. and do you know what, readers? i did win. i--me, ms. c--won. i remember it like it was yesterday: the night prior, i'd gotten so shitfaced off jack and cokes that i'd puked up my pork chop dinner. at the starting gate, my coach sighed heavily, looked at me with sad eyes and said, 'just get down.' nothing, i tell you--nothing makes one haul ass more than fear of barfing whilst racing downhill. it'd have been like peeing in the wind, only vomiting in the face. everyone said i was a blur--a blur! and i know what you're thinking, and i daresay i could've gone all the way to nagano on this whiskey/pig regimen, but i was so serious a student back then... of course, i jest: school is for suckers. but, seriously, pork chops do not come up easily. also, i earned the unfortunate nickname 'porkchop' and soon thereafter fled to the rockies, where i soon became known as 'c-storm.' so, go, WHALES: stand with your big fat faces in the sun for all you're worth. yes, i just summed up a room with a view in a nutshell.