Why it's important to read this blog

Here are reasons:

1. It's a good source of reading materials.
2. It's fun for us to think that people are reading this blog.
3. It's a totally competent and unrivaled source of news about our lives.
4. We are: Robert, Nick, Mada, Eliot, Brendan, Conor and Brian. Those are good names.
5. "Classic" is something you associate with good things, much like a great basketball game, original flavored things that are better than flavored versions of that same thing, or an action that a friend does that fits to a comfortable and sometimes humorous degree with their past actions and current ideologies. Also something of pop-culture that is out-of-date but is still good enough to go back to and experience, because it has not lost its enjoyment with the passage of time.
6. "Brian" is a name of fair simplicity and commonality. It might be your name! It represents the common man with boring accuracy, and is something we can all relate to. We can all imagine what life would be like if we were a person named "Brian." We do this with more ease than we would imagine what life would be like if we were named "Bludneious" or something of a similar nature.
7. The person who this blog was named after is endearing, despite his biting sarcasm and witty insults. You may see yourself dating or being friends with this person. He is also in shape.
8. To not read this blog is to cast it out as unoriginal and uninteresting. In doing this, you imply that the seven writers of Classic Brian are unoriginal, in itself an abhorring accusation, and uninteresting, which is not true in the general public's opinion.
9. We have or have had jobs. Really!
10. The writers of Classic Brian have experienced a wide array of experiences, such as: growing up in a moderately sized city in a state that possesses both bigger and smaller cities, playing sports as children, thinking about their own mortality, making up a fun game.
11. A young person's perspective is easier to get behind than an old person's. We all consider ourselves young people. You can get behind us.
12. Writer's block is bound to happen to the writers of Classic Brian. It's interesting to see what we produce on those days.
13. Sometimes, videos and/or pictures are included in posts.
14. Not all people close in age to the writers of Classic Brian write for blogs. Of the ones that do, ours is the one you should be reading.
15, We won't be mad at you if you read the blog.
16. We are constantly trying to think of interesting points to make.
17.

We are not radicals. We are not entirely innocent. We are not entirely corrupt. We are the fading hope that in the zenith of our lives we can figure out something substantial, deconstruct and understand it, and possess in ourselves the knowledge of how to live life without the cost of having lived it. We are the attempt for perfection.

18. Generally speaking, we all have a relative appreciation of the arts.
19. We're all currently enrolled in major universities.
20. Sometimes, we have guest-writers post on the blog, which provides an interesting alternative perspective on a particular issue or subject.
21. Reading this blog is not "counterproductive," it is better described as "hip."
22. Like all things you experience that will die before you do, you will miss us when we're gone.
23. We will miss us when we're gone, too -- that is to say, we have compassion for ourselves.
24. Each post individually is not a narrative, but every post, over the course of a period of time, is a narrative.
25. With the growing popularity of the internet, we are a good way to spend time.
26. You will be dying and think, probably, "I wonder what was in the rest of those Classic Brian posts" and realize: you'll never fucking know.
27. How long does it take to read a blog post? How much does it cost to do so? Compare these results with that of getting pulled over for speeding.
28. What if one of us writes a post about something you're interested in. Wouldn't that be a fun read?
29. We're not perfect, as writers. We could get better. You could help.
30. We'll read all your comments and take them too seriously.
31. If once a day you have someone do a favor for you, you will likely have time to read the day's post as they are doing that favor for you.
32. There's the slight, slight chance that one of us becomes well-known, and in this scenario you could say "I read that guy's (or Mada's) early stuff when he (or Mada) was just starting a blog with his (or Mada's) friends." People will hopefully be impressed.
33. Whenever the weather's bad, and you're inside because whatever you would be doing outside is an inconvenience because of the weather being bad, you will feel better if you spend that time reading a Classic Brian post you would otherwise not have read.
34. We will not be outdated. If a revolution occurs, we will not write from a pre-revolution perspective.
35. If a writer on Classic Brian quits or dies, the best item on your resume for being that lucky replacement writer would be to say "I have read all your guys's posts."
36. Eventually, this could turn into a website that competes with other websites. In such a case, we'd want you on OUR side.
37. If you are doing something on the computer, and partake in a distraction that won't leave you feeling like you've completely wasted your time, we're your man.
38. There are things along the side of the blog, such as the "Who we are:" section and the "A list: of" section that are enjoyable and made up by members of Classic Brian.
39. We could really use your support.
40. Classic Brian is a diary. And diaries should be read. You don't even have to tell us you read it.

Good job, you read all those! Here's a treat: two pictures of bears. They have similarities and differences.

 
An aside: it's Thanksgiving break and I don't have a working cell phone until Sunday when I get back to college. I'm okay with this. People who won't see me because of this slight inconvenience, consider our friendships Darwinized. I'm excited to see my brothers and parents. I'm hopeful to get rest and be ready for these last two weeks of the semester.

It's unfortunate that it's about to get so darn wintery. It's as if it were slightly chilly outside and yet you, hot from overexerting yourself in an activity, decide to jump into an unheated pool. Hold your breath, because when you hit the water, it's going to be cold and it's going to stay cold for a long while.

I wish I had written more in my last post, "S[t]imulation." There were things I left out. To think, not only will I not finish everything I want to, I won't even finish thinking of everything I want to finish! What a problem we have today.

--Eliot Sill

The Life of a Year

-Eliot Sill

Now today I was going to write another good piece about something or another, but I'm really f&%king tired, so we'll save that for another day.

http://jour199.blogspot.com/2010/12/downtime.html

Thats the other blog I wrote today. I was busy as shit for 15 straight hours. For my sigh of exhalation I get to do this.

As December rolled around, I noticed an immediate change. Something was different about the month. It was cold, like last week. There wasn't any snow yet, like last week. Yet something was inherently different. It was more... peaceful.

December is a month of reflection on the year's best and appreciation and commemoration to how far we've come in the last 12 months. That got me thinking...

Thinking back to January.

January is a rebirth on so many levels. New Years Resolutions, new trends to look for, everything that's new is identified with a new year. But you don't really have a grasp yet on what's in store for that year. You just kind of lolligag along, waiting for the next event to come so you can pass time. The weather is incoherent, being cold, being snowy, but often not at the same time. It just kind of comes and goes. Januaries are hard to remember. They're not usually notable, but they're cold and generally unpleasant.

A new year is born.

That's right. The year is a lot like the human life. Some seem shorter than others, some seem longer. Some are better, some are worse. Each one is memorable for certain things, but never is one a repeat of another. January is the outset of life. The infantile stage. The year is just a baby. It's not what you want to be, but it happens every year. And some years it's beautiful, other times it's forgettable.

Turn the calendar a page and you'll find February, the shortest stage of life. The toddler stage. The year starts to utilize its legs and you sort of can start thinking in a true perspective, but at the same time, you know there are a whole ten months before your year will wane. So much time, hell you don't even start that New Year's Resolution yet. You can drop that twenty by the end of December. Sure. You can do anything you want.

Then, all of a sudden, March appears. We think we know the year by now. What kind of year is it going to be? Hm, well since we're a quarter of the way through let's predict things that are ridiculous and random. This would be the equivalent of the young stage, when you first enter school through about fourth grade. You think you have friends. You think you love some girl. You think you can tell that this year's going to suck. Or that we'll still care what Xavier did in the NCAA Tournament at the end of the year. Little do we know then, it'll all be forgotten. You forget those things, what you did when you were little, as you grow old. The same's true with the following: the Saints and Colts in the Super Bowl, Butler nearly beating Duke in the NCAA championship, Alabama winning it all in football? And you may be thinking that I can only think of sports for this analogy. Well eff you. Maybe I'm only using sports because they're cyclical and go by years. Like years do. Like life does.

By the time April comes, you're out of the mindset of it being a new year. Just like when you hit middle school you're through believing that you're a little kid. You're a big kid now. you go back and visit your elementary school (for those of you who were raised in Catholic schools, suck it, this part clearly isn't for you) and act like a big kid who's making a name for himself, when in reality, you still look to dominate on the playground, just as you did then. You're not older, and the year's not old. The best of's haven't come out yet. Quit trying to claim you've heard the best album you'll hear all year. But at the same time, on another front of this analogy, the weather is warming up. You have a clearer idea of what is going on in the world. The skies are clearer, there's a bit of rain here and there, but hell, at least it's bearable to even BE outside. The weather allows you to expand your activities outdoors, just as middle school allows you to go hang out with friends and even (gasp) talk to girls.

When May hits you can taste it. Independence. Freedom. Summer. This I equate to high school. It's maybe the prettiest month of the year, on it's better days. Just like some high school days can be the funnest you have. On it's bad days though it's still rainy and at the end of the day you still have a curfew. Whether you obey it or not just depends on how much of a bitch you are. F&#K PARENTS. YEAH. (Except the ones who read their kids' blog posts. Must I include this disclaimer every time I make a shot at adult living? Cleeearly I'm joking people, cool your jets.) May is a beautiful thing. High school can be. You're still innocent. Everything that happens that is bad is a learning experience. You're not at the point yet where you can start fucking things up. (That time I said it. I only do so when I mean it, guys.) It's a sort of carefree world. It's nice. It was nice.

Then June comes. SUMMER. FREEDOM. INDEPENDENCE. All in the palm of your hands. In my life, it's June. You can act without having to answer to your parents, but at the same time, you have to watch out. Because this is where you can start to dig yourself a hole. The weather is lovely. Not too damn hot. Just good enough to go sleeveless with shorts. The world is yours for the taking. This month is the most open month of the year. Kinda like how these college days are the most open years of my life. You see how this is matching up quite decently?

Now with the rest of the year from here on out, I lack actual experience. So it's time to guess a little bit I suppose.

July. July is the twilight, sort of June's reflection. The best days are behind you, but it's still damn good. I mean out of college until you're like 34. Or 35. You are making your way in the world and don't yet have a clear path in life. You realize that your life has taken shape, much like the year, but that there's still plenty of time left to change the way things are. The weather is like last month, but slightly worse. Just as the feeling of having your own apartment and a job is similar to having your own apartment and a ton of classes. And a job. Only difference? You're no longer going up, but rather lofting at the peak of your arch. And by peak of your arch I mean your life. Get it?

This is followed by August, a worsening of those previous years. You start to feel your feet weld themselves to the ground. Your life is set. If you aren't finding a niche now, you need to get in gear. I consider this ages 35-49 (we'll see what I consider it when I get there). The age where you're still kind of young, but you feel old. You can still do most of the same things you could when you were younger, but just not as well. Kind of like how the weather in August sometimes burns as if the atmosphere had turned to magnifying glass, but other days it feels nice and reminds you of June. Somedays, during this period, ya feel old, other days, you feel young.

September is a beautiful thing. It's typically warm. But at the same time, it's comfortable and you can the feel the decline beginning. I consider this 50-65 anymore (as the average age keeps increasing), you can still run, maybe, when you need to. But let's face it, you need a new mindset. You're an old guy. Hyperbolize. Call yourself a geezer and folks will give you credit. Just how people say the year's almost ending in September before some poor sap reminds them that there are three valuable months left to be had. This time is one of comfort and yet freedom. PEAK midlife crisis age. You aim for that last gasp of freedom before you become stuck in the decline towards your death.

That decline, friends, is what October is all about. Almost. It's the golden years. The trees turn the color of a sunset, fittingly, and you start thinking on what a year it's been while simultaneously living out the remainder of bearable days left. (PS to the people out of the midwest reading this, your weather's different. I get it. Forgive me.) You're not fully in look back mode yet, but you know that these days are the last nice days of the year.

Then November comes. November is cancer. It's whatever it is that makes you never the same. It's that horrible rotten disease that leads to your downfall and makes your last days painful and full of stress. You wish everything could go back to how it was and don't understand why these types of months exist. The weather becomes frigid and you haven't adjusted body temperatures yet so it's doubly worse. Doubly doubly worse. And you can't get past the fact that just two months ago the world was so bright and now a constant smearing of gray covers the sky like a blanket pinned up to your ceiling that blocks the light that you know you have installed up there. You know it's supposed to be bright. It usually is. But it's not. By the way, I have no doubt in my mind I will die in November. One year I'll just quit. I will run out of things to live for and cough myself to death. It will be painful, but I will look back to this post and emit a warm smile as I spitefully take in my last breath.

So where does that leave us with December? At peace. The birds are done complaining about the shitty weather, they've all moved onward. The earth is still, and the snow falls daintily enough to make you forget that your ears hurt from being frozen. It's funny, how still the world becomes on a frozen December nice. Almost like a picture, or a commemorative portrait. (Every sentence in this blog post, if read in reality to somebody, would end in an elbow bumping and then me saying, "eh? Ehh? C'monn, you see what I'm sayin'?" and whoever was listening want to punch my face until it changed colors. I don't blame you for disliking this post.) There's this funeral we give for the year. The best of's, the worst of's. We label everything so we know each aspect of this year's life. We don't want to forget it, so we chronicle it. But during the last couple days of December, you hear whispers through the wind... "I hear father time is pregnant with another year.."

Well, folks, let's just hope this next one's a girl.

No context. Just hope it's a girl.

...Yep.

--Eliot Sill

What do I want to be?

This is a late post, point taken. But I still haven't gone to sleep and woken up on Thanksgiving so it counts in a way for me. Anyway, the post I was writing earlier got delayed by a bunch of things. I won't explain them if you don't ask.

Here's what I HAD going:

And ya know what pisses me off the most?

Is that there are people that tell me the ONLY way you can get into heaven is by following Jesus Christ (his ways, not the actual guy). That makes me mad, but the worst part is that I've already told them that I'm Christian.

So what do you suppose is the reason they let me know so urgently of this revelation?

Because they want me to go tell other people that they're going to hell. They want me to be that know-it-all asshole who thinks God sent him a secret note containing "The Plan". HE DIDN'T. I DON'T REALLY KNOW. That's why they call it faith.

Everyone should have their own beliefs and be content with them. My brother is in possession of two little Christian comic books that basically say if you don't love Jesus your life is missing its most important aspect. And you're going to hell. And there's nothing you can do about it. Except follow Jesus. They're funny in an "oh my God I sincerely hope this mind bullshit never works on anyone but if it doesn't it's hilarious" kind of way.

Anyway, (sigh), as Thanksgiving approaches rapidly, it's time to decide what we're thankful for, mutter a quick thanks before dinner, and then not worry about it for another year.

Things I'm thankful for: sports, music, my family sectors, turkeys, holidays, fans, heaters, Cloud Strife, hate, people who are better than me, people who are worse than me, irony, black people (all kinds), the word "awesome", other countries, water, marijuana (which, mom, dad, I don't smoke), television, Apple, apples, steak, wind and Sara Matherly.

It's approximately quarter after six as I resume this blog post, and there is still no sign of sun today? What if the sun just didn't come up on Thanksgiving? That'd be hilarious. Well, it's a moot point since undoubtedly the sun has risen between now and the time you laid eyes on this post.

So November, why in the hell are you so damn awful? Everybody hates you. Nobody is ever comfortable during you. It doesn't snow. It just rains. It's fucking cold and it rains. The air is as dry as death, meaning my lips are super duper chapped and it's November's fault. Nothing is ever important about November. The holiday, the sports, the vacation (it's a week off of school. SUCH A TEASE. Give me a real vacation like XMAS break where I get a month off and can do stuff and not just wish I had more time to spend with people I like), or even the specials. Have you ever seen a "Thanksgiving" anything? It's the same product with a turkey in the background. (I'm talking of TV-land here by the way (and no, not the channel)) Everything's just sorta meh. I love Thanksgiving, but it's to commemorate a time when a bunch of people ate a bunch of stuff. That's like throwing a party in honor of that one time me and Rob got really wasted. It's awesome, but it isn't important. Same with the sports, no post-season, no beginning, no end, just middle. Meh.

So what do we have to look forward to?

Everything, because this is our calendar's rock bottom. Every month is better than this one. We're almost out, and we don't have to come back for a long time.

So remember when I was talkin' about religion n stuff up there?

I went to church tonight for the first time since..... well it's been a really long time. It was the most packed our church has been since..... well it's been a really long time since it's been that packed. It reminded me of when I was a kid, as I looked into the congregation to see kids of ages I used to be wasting time in ways I used to waste it. I read a passage during the service, and I realized, I'm an adult now. I'm one of those who understands what's going on. I don't have to fidget for an eternity just to get through a church service. It was weird. But oddly enough, church still sucked. It was boring for the most part and I wished I could be dancing at a rave or something. Or maybe even running. Uy.

So what's this post about? Poor time management and thought organization. I hate it when I come to the keyboard and think "well here we go, let's start writing." I wish I had sermons for you guys once a week. Not about God. Yeah wouldn't that be a cool job to have? Be like a pastor for something that's not a church? (Doesn't make sense--I know, but listen) In the aspect that you spend the first fifteen years of your adult life doin' a bunch of crazy shit, and then spending the rest of your adult life writing about a particular subject and occasionally drawing on the fifteen years of crazy shit you did for inspiration. I want to be a basketball pastor.

The thing is, I love writing for Classic Brian. I wish Classic Brian had a billion and five followers instead of 18 and I never had to work and I was Hugh Hefner and life would be great. So in order to help me reach those dreams, you guys should really start purchasing more of our merchandise. It helps a ton. A lot of you seem to not know that we have merchandise, but we do. It's the compliments I dole out when you give me money. College is expensive. Help a brother out. Now you seem to think I'm running out of things to talk about. Well I am. It's 6:30 leave me alone. You're sleeping and I'm writing. I'd rather be me but I'm obligated to be you.

Next week I'll write about something better. Something awesome. Something... I dunno, SOMETHING.

But let me otherwise be the first to tell you, I hope your Thanksgiving sucks. Why not?

--Eliot Sill