Exploris Adventure

I'm in awe of just how much there is to see in the world. I've never been to the Exploris museum before, but now that I've been, I wonder why it took me so long to go. I hadn't even heard of it, but it's definitely a place I would suggest visiting.

Sometimes it's truly amazing what the vision of one person can create. Just think of how many people that museum has touched. It makes me wonder how many people I can effect. Of those I have already, what has effect been? My hope is not to have my actions dictated by how they will effect other people, but to have my heart so bent on loving others that my actions will naturally fall into that category.

I mentioned today that I should start right now on a life's work. That way, when it is done forty years from now, I can look on it and see my whole life consolidated into a single vision before me. Hmm, I wonder what my life's work will be... A museum like Exploris? An exciting contribution to literature? An exact monochromatic equivalent of the Mona Lisa done completely in gram stained Bacillus Cereus--one cell at a time? I could do anything! Maybe I'll wait a few years.

After Exploris, we three took it up to Goodberrys, where I had an enormous chocolate-malt-and-marshmallow Carolina Concrete. The whole time I was eating it--well, at least all the time I wasn't thinking about how unbelievably delicious it was--I thought about how wonderful it felt to be right where I was with the people I was with at that particular moment. Travis and Danielle are among my favorite people, and similarly, there is no place on Earth like Goodberrys, the marvelous frozen custard shrine. There are so many things around to enjoy!

"The Travis was walking down a path and, noticing the gyre of a bird in flight, he stopped to watch on a fresh, green tuffet. Tired, the old man gently laid down his staff and cocked his head to stroke his aged beard. 'Snippage!' he said with a sagely nod, and then he died... My children, we can all learn something from the Travis."

There is No Such Thing as a Simple Person.

Every person has a story and everyone is going somewhere. I've heard it said that one should live their life in such a way that if it were a written in a book someone would want to read it. I don't know about that. The thought of whether or not my life would be a best-seller does not particularly drive me. I believe, every man's story is worth telling and worth listen to. I've said it before that getting to know a person is one of the highest forms of entertainment; and there's a subtle truth in that. It is wonderful to learn about a person on level deeper than "Hi" and to try to understand them. Incredibly insightful. I have never been disappointed in the understanding that people should be known, and I've found that even people I may be tempted to label as 'simple' are inordinately complex. The 'why's and passed years weigh on all of us and impressed upon us their seals of maturity, denial, wisdom, and mistake. Unavoidable. Unmaskable.

We are complex because the human heart does not lend itself to being simple. Even so, the greatest minds I've ever know have striven years for simplicity--trying to attain oneness of character. Consistency. I've read of artists who spent their whole lives learning to paint like a child. They want that simplicity back, and why? It might be that as children we were the most alike. We all wanted food and mothers. To be cared for in ways didn't have to understand. In the relative simplicity of childhood, we must have been so close to each other. Now that we're grown, does that mean every man is an island? If we are, we must certainly be an archipelago because we're all connected below the surface.

Sometimes sitting in the cafeteria, I'll see someone, and for whatever reason, they will catch my mind's attention. As I eat my meal, I think about that person sitting down with their friends across the room, and I wonder where they were born, who they love, and how the events of the world led them to sit in that particular chair. Most times, wondering is enough for me, but other times it is not. I can't explain why it's not, but I feel drawn to ask that person a question. Usually, I do not ask. How strange would it be to ask a stranger who they love? I think the answer would be a long one.

I think similarly of shacks and overgrown buildings on the side of a road. I have to wonder when they were built and who built them. I think of how proud the owner must have been when he first walked into his new and beautiful building. What were his plans? I learn names about as well as a monkey learns state capitals, but do I wonder a lot.

There is no such thing as a simple person.

The Man in the Tattered Cape

I saw a man in a tattered cape
Many a time from Robin Row.
So curious he seemed to me
As none of him would show.

Every day he’d pass my way
T’wherever he would go,
Never pausing from his walk
Except on Robin Row.

And from my window sill I’d spy
Seeing whether if the wind
Would whip his tattered cowl so
That I might see if he had skin.

T’was then I let the sin begin.

For one can only see so much
From a window far away,
So I resolved a grave intent
To meet with him one day.

The very next, that is to say.

So as he paused on Robin Row
I grabbed what I might think his arm,
‘Till whooshing fabric whirled around
In twirling folds of dark alarm.

The cape and cowl seemed so deep!
As deep as I imagined from
The window I had occupied
A day ago! But thicker some.

And as I looked for eyes I found
There none to courteously fix
Mine upon. A rainy dusk
Began to fall into the mix.

“Why do you wear this tattered cape?”
I whispered him despite the rain.
“It is so worn and shorn and torn…
Though black it is, I find a stain.”

The man, he only looked at me.
“I wear this cloak for reasons three:
I hate my body, love my cape,
And it is what you’d rather see.

“But,” I said, “It looks so old!
So heavy for the summer heat!
And in the rain it’s soaking through
To make you heavy on your feet.”

But what he said he would repeat.

“But it’s so tattered—drags the ground!
It is too big for you!” I yelled.
When, in truth, I only ached
To see the darkness man un-shelled.

Again, he only looked at me.
“I wear this cloak for reason’s three:
I hate my body, love my cape,
And it is what you’d rather see.”

“But sir!” I yelled. “It must be patched!
And hemmed here where it clearly frays!
I am tailor, sir!” I lied.
“I’ll have it back in one… two days!”

My chest was in a raucous craze!

But the man, as calm as shade,
Turned his faceless hood from me,
And tugged away, and slowly walked
Toward his evening place to be.

I never thought I’d use the knife.
I did not think it’d come to that
But oily red that smeared my hand
Confirmed no wraith beneath it sat.

I swam through fabric dark as death
And shuffled through to strip the cloaked
And found a truly gruesome sight:
My own dead face. Chafed and choked.

The deepest fabric in my hand,
A silent horror for the twin
I felt until I gaped the cloak
And wrapped myself within.

I am the man in the tattered cape
I walk the darkness to and fro.
I hate my body, love my cape,
And pause to mourn on Robin Row

I Wonder Sometimes

Been a while? Yes it has. Campbell internet has slowed down tremendously this year, and it has become very frustrating to download anything or even visit websites with too many pictures. I've heard recently that this might be due to a wide use of Ares, a Kazaa-like peer to peer file sharing network that can't be so easily detected by campus computer personnel. Great job, guys. You weren't caught. But take a look at these internet speeds. They're agonizing! My neighbor across the hall told me it took him twenty minutes to download a song off of Ares that should have taken less than two. There is a reason why file sharing programs were outlawed on campus.

I'm incredibly excited about my free iPod! I finally got enough referrals, and I my account is under review at this very moment. In two weeks, the review should be done, and I should be able to order my free iPod! I don't know if I'm as excited about the actual iPod as I am for FINALLY having achieved a long-sought goal. Back when I was a skeptic, I promised a friend that if he actually got a free iPod from this scheme, I would buckle down and get one too. Well, he got it, and now I have come through on my promise. Once I get my iPod in my hands, I think I'll go for the shuffle (seems like it would make a great gift). Also, I will advertise with my freeipods.com T-shirt that comes with he iPod and try to help out my friends who are still working toward their five referrals. If one of my referrals turns out to be invalid (an unlikely outcome) I'll dive back in head first until I get my free iPod, darnnit! Getting stuff from Freepay has become somewhat of a hobby, I guess.

I'm so, so happy to be back at school for that long, long summer. I'm starting to settle in, and I now have most of my books (save for microbiology). I've tried much harder this year to decorate my room and really make it a comfortable place for me to live. The smell of cinnamon welcomes me every time I open my door in the coldest temperature I can squeeze out of the AC system. Artwork, posters, and random junk adorn the walls, and my surround-sound system, though not great for DVD's, is excellent for playing music. I had a jig-fest to it just last night. The winds of change blow down the new walkways and through the orange plastic fences as things are built and renewed all around campus. I'm very happy with my school right now. This is a year to look forward to, I think.

Still, I keep having this feeling of angst concerning my major course of study. Is biochemistry really my calling? Are labwork and memorization really my passions? Should I change majors? Should I shift? Should I just stick it out and hope for the best? I don't exactly know how to feel. It's not that I'm bad at science, or that I feel this major is too much to handle, but what about other options? Dr. Jung impressed me when he said "...always have a plan B. And plan C and D." He went on to say that Chemistry wasn't even supposed to be his field of study, but look at him now. About of third of the Department Chairmen didn't major in the department they're chairing. Jung was referring to Pre-pharm majors when he said this, but I took it to hear--maybe because it was what I wanted to hear. I'm seriously thinking about shifting my major. It feels too bold and rash, but I can't help but ponder the possibility. Maybe a Chemistry major with an English minor. What I'd really like is the other way around. Maybe an art history minor. I'd definitely like to take the class, but Biochemistry doesn't leave much room for electives, let alone minors. If you don't want to be a chemistry-Biochemistry double major, it seems your out of luck. Before I make any decisions, I definitely want to fist talk with my advisor and see if a change is even possible at this point without an extra semester. The thought of switching majors weighs on my mind more than any other. I'll have to finish my semester out, anyway, so we will see how it goes.

The New Face of Higher Learning

I changed the template of my blogger site! I think I did it because I stopped liking the feeling I got when I looked at my page before. Too many browns, perhaps. I also now have a links sidebar, and that is a plus too, I suppose. I enjoy the feel of this template, and I think I'll be glad I moved away from the old one.

I posted a very long entry a few minutes ago, but after a shower, I decided to delete it. It wasn't particularly personal or poorly written; I just didn't get the right feeling when I wrote it. I felt it was generic and didn't really express anything. Not anything genuine, anyway. It does bothers me sometimes when I delete an entry like that, though. I feel like I'm trying to hide something. The entry I deleted was mostly about Truth and how I felt about it--how highly I esteem trust and how much it means to me that I am or become trustworthy. It is important to mention these things, I guess. There does seem to be a lack of people to trust anymore, but I'm very glad that I have friends I can truly say I trust. But trust is such a broad term, isn't it? I think what I mean is that I can open myself up to them without fear of being torn down. I feel assured that my opinions and feelings matter and make a difference, and their complements aren't simply empty courtesies. That may be over-simplifying things, but it's just a re-cap of what I deleted, after all.

I've had some bad days at Andy's before, but today absolutely takes the cake. See, our opporator, Angie, quit without warning a few days ago. She just up and left, and I dont' know why. I mean, I'm sure she had her reasons, but it turned the whole store up on it's heels. Today was our new operator's first day on the job, and the transitions he wanted us to make coupled with his relitive inexperience and my absolute lack of talent on the cookline sent the lunch rush into a fiery tailspin of utter chaos. We had, I'm sure, ten or more orders up at a time, and we were putting out absolutely unacceptibly long tickets. Up to 30 minustes, so I'm told. I mean, it was pandamonium! I was on the verge of tears as I rushed and busstled, trying my best to make put out orders as fast as I could. We even had waiters and waitresses coming back to help on the cookline. I have NEVER seen such an utter catastrophe in all my days at Andy's, and I've never felt so close to hell on the cookline. I kept my cool as best I could and calmed down the frustrated helpers working around me who were nearly ready to quit right then and there. I must admit, I even throwing down my aprin and walking out the door myself. Mounds of food was being thrown away, and many orders were given to the customers for free just so they wouldn't curse our store to the grave. And even though we were busting our tails and customers were getting angeryer by the minute, the tickets just kept coming up! It was like an endless line of thick-needed shots--like flys we could't swat away! As chaotic as it was behind the line, it was naught to compair to what the poor waitresses has to deal with. To the customers, the waitress was the face of evil that kept their food from them. It made one particular waitress almost collapes in a nervious breakdown, and she is no easy nut to crack. Staff who came in just for a meal ended up putting on hats and getting to work clock in street clothes off the clock. I believe that if there was ever a special place prepared for me in hell, it would have me working like this every day and sleeping every night in the first night of the SUV contest. There was simply nothing to compair it to. I pray--I PRAY--that I Wednesday is nothing like that. If it is, I seriously don't know what I'll do. I guess I'll try my best until the cheeze slides off my cracker, so to speak.

I have many more things to recount, but I really should be getting to bed, but let me at least say that by the end of today, I felt it was all-in-all a pretty good day. The Andy's ordeal was just something I NEVER want to go though again. O heavens! I hope I don't have nightmares about it...

In the New House

I'm in the new house! I've been waiting for it for a while, but we're finally in it! We'll have to have a house warming party soon...

Audio Blogger?

That's right, I've recently become aware of this nifty new feature of Blogger. I don't see myself using it too, too often, but then again, I've never had the option before. Very fun, really. For those of you out there who have a Blogger page, I strongly suggest you check it out: AudioBlogger

Banquet Blues

My job at Dollar General is better than ever hoped it would be. It's pace is much more leisurely than that of Andy's, and I feel a bit more valuable there. I get to interact face-to-face with customers (something I never do behind the cookline) and for a quarter more an hour than Andy's. This just goes to prove my initial hypothesis: working in the food industry sucks urinal flush knobs. Still, Angie, my boss at Andy's, GOT me the job at Dollar General, so I'm in a bit of debt to her.

Even though my life could be made a lot simpler by simply quitting Andy's all together, I keep on working there because I feel I owe Angie my loyalty, though she might not be as fortunate among other employees. Apparently, many of the staff there are working under Angie simply as a favor. They too sacrifice better situations for her behalf. William, an assistant manager(?) may be quitting soon for a better paying job at another Andy's close by. He says he's covered Angie's behind more times than he can count and is tired of it. Part of the wait staff have already put in applications with other companies and eagerly await the chance to make better money and work better hours. Angie is a nice woman, but she is running a business, and the employer-employee contract should be beneficiary to both parties, not a charity to one. Her children are unruly (one of whom had to be fired from their position at the restaurant). The store is always in debt, and rumors constantly circulate of the immanent doom looming over Angie's career--as if any day now she could be replaced. Still, even though I am not the most valuable employee and my last paycheck was under fifteen dollars, I will stick by her. She helped get another job at a time when I thought it would be impossible. She works hard, and her life isn't cream, sugar, and peaches either.

I went to the annual Andy's banquet last night with Angie and the staff. We all took the hour-and-a-half trip up to Greenville in a caravan of three cars, two of which were packed and one of which contained only the driver. Guess who rode by their lonely lonesome-- Me. There was a smoker's car (which you could not pay me to ride in) and a car packed with a bunch of girls who were, of course, best friends and would rather all cram to absolute capacity in a little white Chevy than for even one of them to ride in my Dad's leather-seat Maxima to keep me company on the long drive up (or even on the long drive back). I ended up singing John Mayer songs to my self the whole way with sparse interruptions by the radio. At any rate, once we got to the convocation Center of ESU, there was actually very little of the famed dancing that there was supposed to be (really the only reason I went). The "dance floor" was just a space on the carpet with no tables on it far too small for even a fraction of the attendees to cut a rug upon. No matter, really, the dancing and *cringe* Karaoke only lasted about an hour. The rest of the six-hour convention was a neon mosaic of speeches, award presentations, and "Andy's American Idol" where ten contestants sung it out in a battle for loudest acclaim (and a subsequent thousand-dollar check). The sound stage was pretty elaborate, with booming sound and three live screens playing amplifying the on-stage happenings. The food they served was pretty good--especially the carrot cake and potatoes--but the only thought on my head about an hour into the event was "when can we leave." Apparently, "we" does not include those who rode up in the smoker's car. That's right, four us who came up from Holly Springs (including Angie) drove back at the first hint of a chance. Really, only the driver needed to get back to attend to her child who contracted a fever (probably), but who could possibly pass up a chance to leave this bore early, right? At least they could have had the courtesy to tell us they were leaving. Perhaps I was just characteristically out of the loop. In any case, Angie's unnecessary departure made William anger enough to ask for a job at another store; a job I'm pretty sure he'll be starting soon. He mentioned that they should have just let the one with the sick child go back alone, hold off on the smoking for a couple hours, and just ride back home with me in the Maxima because I rode up all by my myself. At first I was touched that he was sensitive to my feelings of loneliness, but then I realized he was just mad at Angie for leaving her employees to endure the banquet without being willing to do it herself. Silly me, I have no feelings.

After the events of the banquet, we were we were all hungry again since we didn't get much to eat at the banquet (names can be misleading) . Moreover, they complained that the food served there was horrible, so they decided to go to that most exotic wonderful restaurant of unbeatable quality. Namely, The Wafflehouse? Yes, there weren't exactly enough places for us to sit at one table, so we pulled a chair. Who got to sit in the in-the-way chair of ostracism? Why me again, of course! As honored as I felt, I decided I need to be more humble... I mean humiliated. My knife, lathered in butter I never used nor even put to a knife, slipped off of the plate I had to stack to make room and grazed my suite as well as the dress of one of my lovely coworkers. Brook, the butter-afflicted maiden, mostly laughed it off (thank heavens) and I wiped the butter stainlessly off the pant of my suite. Believe me, it could have been worse.

From the parking lot of the Wafflehouse, they all left in the little white car to go and be dropped off at their respective houses, leaving me, Chase I-don't-know-where-the-heck-I'm-goin' Vaughan, to fend for myself on the night-time roads. I'm sure they would have helped me if I asked, but frankly I was at glad to no longer be tied so awkwardly to their company. At least now I could screw up all I wanted and nobody had to be the wiser. My cell phone, of course, had NO battery left because it called home in my pocket during the banquet (leaving an interesting message on the machine). I had no way of calling home for directions, so I picked a direction, and went in it. Eventually, I hit a rode I knew, though not which direction to turn at that intersection. Once again, I picked a direction, though this time the wrong direction. Actually, I picked the right direction, decided it was the wrong direction and went in the wrong direction until the road name changed to something I didn't recognize. Then I turned around and drove in the right direction, following familiar roads until I made my way home. No applause, please.

Nope, it wasn't the best of nights, but at least a little fun. Believe me, my company was no where near as beastly as I've depicted them here. Most of my alienation is brought on solely because of myself and no one else. I write these events truthfully in the way I felt them, as is the only way to write in a journal. My language is colored, of course, but the events are truthful. If I had to, I guess, I'd do it again. The waitstaff was bouquet beautiful in their gorgeous gowns and dazzling dresses. Their make-up was marvelous and their scents, sensational. They were so beautiful that evening, and I tried to tell them so. My opinion seems to be easily lost between the cushions, and my voice becomes timid in such situations. In any case, it was a good time to dress up and feel handsome for a little while.

And with that, I must sleep.

Tree-Man

They make their way, the trees, the trees
The twain of them, the trees.
Creeping down the rocky beach
To sanctuary seas.

And 'til the day they make their way
On this rocky beach I stand,
A slender giant, grey and stable.
Looming on the land.

A guardian I am, I am.
A guardian I am.
For Mine'ers wish to have their wood
And spill a sappy lamb

But I'm a patient man, I am.
I am a patient man.

But slowly do the twain trees move--
How tardily their stances yield!
Very long it's been, it's been
Since last my mouth has mealed

But I'm a patient man, I am
I am a patient man.

How many months? The awkward boughs
Of the trees seem stiff and strong,
Moving surely as they are
Toward the sea. The twain a throng.

The boughs are surely thick and strong.
And to the tiny Mine'ers, throngs.

I left to feed but for a day.
Never I should leave the twain!
For on my fill I came to find
The Mine'ers one had slain.

A sappy stump is what remained.

O! The tree who has no eyes
Could shed no tears on her behalf!
But I will shed his share and mine
In morning of my horrid gaffe.

"You will make it to the sea."
I said to him. I did, I did.
And never have I moved an inch
Since those words I said

A guardian I am, I am.
A guardian I am.
A patient man I am, I am.
I am a patient man.

Beware of the Jazz

I deleted my last entry for various reasons; all of which I now believe were kind of superficial and would not exist if I wrote it in physical journal.

It's after midnight and I will not stay up much longer. Tomorrow will be my first day at my second job as well as the first 8 hour day I've worked all summer. ^_^d It's at Dollar General. I think getting rest tonight will be important since I'll probably be unloading a truck or some similar task that will require me to have a bit more than four hours of sleep. I'm thankful for this opportunity to work longer hours (and possibly for better pay), but at the same time I'm a little anxious. I mean, I haven't worked more than four hours at a time since the summer began. I guess I'm a little afraid I won't be able to handle working a full day or that I'll be just as bad at this as I am as a frycook. It's bitter-sweet. I'll definitely have less me-time, but I'm kind of sick of that anyway. Hopefully working more will make the summer burn away a little faster, and I'll even salvage a bit of money from my all but wasted summer. I guess if I had to put how I feel about this in one word, it would be... Okay, so I don't know what it would be, but I'll have more of an idea once I've had my first day.

If you ask me, though, my summer is looking seriously up! I had a wonderful time as a UFO at the Campbell orientation this weekend where I got to see old friends, eat good food, ride some rides, get to know a few freshmen, and even keep a free awesome T-shirt with "STAFF" written on the sleeve! I have that new job I'll b starting tomorrow, which is exciting and new. My family is moving into a new house at the end of the month (so I'll finally get my surround-sound DVD player back). To top my good things list, I bought a much needed new ink cartrage for my favorite, favorite pen and a new T-shirt today. I even had a frappichino--a much needed frappichino. Haha!

Funny thing. I had turned on a jazz station when I got in the car to go out. When I was drinking that frappichino, I realized I was freakin' listening to jazz and drinking a frappichino! This proves my theory that there are subliminal coffee ads in jazz music. That's why jazz fans drink so much expresso! I swear, If I would have been wearing my beret, I'm almost certain I would have been compelled start smoking and write a bunch of bad angsty poetry, then jump out and read it at unsuspecting bystanders! THAT, my friends, is where criminals come from. They aren't born, they just listen to jazz...

Actually, I love jazz, and I love frapichinos. It was pretty awesome to get both at once! ^_^d

I really should go to bed now.

Took it up to Campbell

Last Saturday was the final day of the first orientation at Campbell. I emailed a good friend of mine who takes summer classes of there was something productive I could do up there, but she didn't get back to me. Ha! Like I need to be productive to visit Campbell. Around 1:30 and a car exchange dance with my parents, I donned my bright orange Circle K shirt and hauled it on up to campus!

By the time I got there, everyone had basically left. I enjoyed a walk around campus and then started meeting people I knew when I hit the Post office. Of course, I also 'enjoyed' a $24 bill I found in my mailbox to be paid by the end of the month or my box is closed. Lucky I went up when I did. Otherwise, my PO box was filled to the brim with mail that wasn't mine, including a quite substantial library of victoria's Secret catalogs. Jealous much? Haha! Of course I threw them all away, but getting one's mailbox stuffed with other people's mail is pretty annoying. And it happens all year too.

At any rate, I met a friend in the Post office parking lot and talked to them all the way into the Oasis. The Oasis was ghost-town-saloon empty save for a sparse, sparse few. Like any other weekend at Campbell, really. I surprisingly enough, I met another friend in there working at the info desk--not Chris (sorry Travis), but a senior friend of mine who has graduated and won't be returning to the good ol' Campbell next semester. That part's kind of sad, but I therowly enjoyed the conversations with her and her friend. Also, toward the end of my visit, I talked to a straggling freshman and her family. I told her things like how to get to Cary and Goodberry's. If I'm not mistaken, I believe she's going to join the wondrous Goodberry's Frozen Custard Fan Club and maybe even Circle K! Score! The world needs more members of both.

I had work at 6:00, so I had to start leaving around 4:30 so I'd have a comfortable time cushion. I said goodbye to the Oasis (after having a number 18 Orange Wave and playing with a puppy) and made my way to have 'linner' at our brand spakin' new Chick-fil-A. The food was great, but it turns out that shop isn't doing to well and ended up having to fire most of it's staff because of it's sever lack of business. Apparently, opening up right before summer break was a bad idea. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20 so they say.

I also poked my head into the newly renovated Shouse dining hall. Very interesting it is. It can't wait to sit down and have a meal there. Most of the sitting space has been overcome by little individual tables with about four chairs to a table. In the back, though is the original cafeteria-style long table seating. I'm glad for that because sometimes you have more than three friends. Some parts of the design are a little tacky to me, but all in all, it's nice. And they've started doing what I can only imagine is a similar renovation to Marshbanks. It'll be interesting to see how that turns out.

I think now I'm going to call up and see if I can't be a UFO for the final Orientation. It sounds like a good fun and a productive excuse for a visit. ^_^d

A Jaunt to the Mountains

I'm feeling a lot better now, owing in no small part to a little trip I got to take yesterday.

Late Monday night I was talking on the internet with a few people, and one of my conversations was with my twin brother. He lives in Boone, and he spontaneously asked me to come for a visit. Boone is over four hours away from where I live, I had work the next day... This was just what I needed! Early the next morning I called work, told them I wasn't coming, loaded up the Maxima, and hauled my sorry butt to the mountains! It felt INCREDIBLE! I finally got leave Holly Springs, even if it was only for a day. The whole way I listened to Weird Al with my arm out the window (and have a glorious sunburn on my left arm to show for it). It felt like I didn't want to be anywhere else than rolling west down I-40.

I haven't seen by brother all summer, either and seeing him again was every bit as wonderful as leaving this old town. I finally got to see his apartment and meet his roommates. I ate at the diner where he works and toured his University. We ate Calsones at the Mellow Mushroom and had frozen treats at TCBY (there was no Goodberry's around). We played video games and talked and had a wonderful time. I miss my brother a lot.

The only semi-bad thing that came out of this whole thing (aside from the sunburn) was getting something wonderful to compare with my colorless little room upstairs. Haha! The consolation I used to have for my brother living on his own in an apartment in the mountains while I was stuck here was that I imagined him living in some kind of impoverished squalor. HaHaHa! Quite the opposite. Even though he doesn't have a lot of spending money, I can see why he loves it out there so much. It's a college town, so there are people his age everywhere. His job gives him plenty of hours (recently, even a raise) and is coworkers are good people and in similar situations as himself, so they became great friends who not only get along, but do things together after work. He spends his free time playing video games and guitar, B-ballin' with his homies, and fondly bothering his suitemates. It's like college without the annoying interruption of learning! Now, what could be better than that?

I spent the night and headed home early the next afternoon as I had to be at work by 5:30. Though I was leaving the mountains, the drive back was really just as liberating, if a bit less excited.

The grass is always greener on the other side, and you'd think that seeing all this would make me feel even more trapped here in the townhouse, but I think my grass has gotten a lot greener just knowing that there are still places like that in the world. It's my turn next summer! You just wait! ^_^d

Long drives are great to clear one's head. I think when you find yourself feeling trapped in some grey cycle, a little something big and spontaneous never fails to add a little color.

Summertime Blues

I've been feeling kind of down lately. Living here with my parents over the summer feels a bit alienating while my brother rough it out on his own in an apartment in the mountains. I feel isolated from my friends and even my peers. I spend what few hours my job lets me work dipping things in hot oil, while being outperformed by coworkers who cannot yet drive after dark. The highlight of my month was seeing Batman Begins with my little brother. Seeing all the college-aged folks at the movies made me wonder where they all hide during the week while I'm staring at the inside of my colorless room with no one to call. I feel insufficient, unsuccessful, and lonely... But at least I don't have to pay rent.

I suppose I make it all sound worse than it probably is. I just miss my friends at Campbell and the independence and since of worth I felt there. There is no Circle K in Holly Springs. No cafeteria of friendly faces and countless peers. I love my family, but I can't help but feel trapped here. My knowledge here is worthless and I feel ignorant and unequiped. I miss when study and classes were a job I could perform it well and there were many people under the same demands to laugh with and consoled eachother over Oasis smoothes and birthday parties. I miss feeling like part of a legitimate team in a group of caring friends. I feel like I'm accomplishing nothing, and when I sit and try to think of something constructive I could be doing, the only things that come to mind are reading and exercise.

So I've read two books, started a third, and began a regimen of running. I believe running has been a very positive thing for me. Every day around 3:00 I put on jogging pants and run a short circuit down and around my neighbor hood. I've been doing it religiously for about a week now and am looking soon to expand my circuit and run longer distances. I was actually most inspired to start this regimen by a friend of mine whose every other away message had to do with how or when she was running. Since I've started, my little brother (much more athletic than I) has begun running with me as well. Of course, with his shorter legs he gets more of a workout, so it evens us out in the end, and we huff and puff along side eachother down the sidewalk. I've always hated running, but the fact that I'm do it anyway gives me some since of control over my pre-set surroundings. It's a healthy outlet for the feelings of being pent up in my parent's townhouse.

All these negative feelings, after all, are only my feelings. In truth, all this alienation is my own fault; I'm just not good at knowing how to fix it. In fact, I sometimes struggle to think of something useful that I can do well. Certaintly the glance-memory and speed-dexterity needed as a fry cook are not my forte. It is no consolation to hear one of my good friends is practically running a restaurant by himself, though I am overjoyed for him and for the skills he's learning. I just feel like I'm at a dead end sometimes and with no friends around to complain to. The fact is, complaining is cheap. I just want to go to the movies with my buddies every now and then.

Guys, if any of you are reading this, know that I really am fine. This is only a vent to some negative feelings I've been having. I miss you all with my whole heart, and I can't wait to see every last one of you again. I count the days for school to start again, though I never thought I would, to tell you the truth. Many people can't wait for school to end and dread it's begining again. Me? I missed Campbell from the moment I left her campus for the summer. Melodramatic, maybe, but oh well. ^_^d

Erasmus

I'm very tired right now. I've been reading Erasmus and the Age of Reformation for hours on end, and I know I'm not going to be able to finish it. Tomorrow must be dedicated to study, not simply to reading as how I have wasted today; though in all fairness, it is my own fault for waiting so long to start this book, and I must also admit that reading it may not have been a complete and total waste.

It is a biography of a man named Erasmus of Rotterdam, who though almost a god in his time, is now all but forgotten by the public. This man rarely felt financially security, but constantly an intense desire for freedom--not to mention a burning conviction for Christ's purpose toward the latter part of his life. In his later years he devoted himself to theological writings, expositions, and translations; and brought on the a great reformation in religious thought. He abhorred the soul-less rituals performed in church ceremonies and other practices that were unfelt and therefore lukewarm in Christ's mouth.

Erasmus praised the Latin language for it's beauty and greatness of expression and was deeply saddened by his time's barbaric use of it. This thought led him to write books such as the Adagia, which he would often revise and augment throughout this life, and which, through instruction on Latin proverbs, sought to teach the dark times this language he adored. He also later spent much time in learning Greek, which he would use with Latin to complete his life's-work: an edition to Jerome and The New Testament. How much he must have thought of himself to edit Jerome! but he supposedly edited with mastery.

Of all the things Erasmus ever wrote--all the great Latin and theological works--the only piece still read today for it's own sake is Praise of Folly, a satirical work that does not betray it's name. I must say, I myself am interested in reading it. It is funny to think this most immortal work was written in jest to his friend Sir Thomas Moore.

Are you asking for a Challeeeeeenge?

Just a little practice in picture posting using the Hello program. ^_^d

Becoming Less Impressed

Browsing through some of the features of this site, I'm finding that many of them are giving me trouble. I tried changing some of my settings, and even though it tells me they are changed, they are NOT changed on my site. I guess I'll mess with it a little longer. If things don't work out, it's back to Xanga.

*EDIT*

After a little more messing, I've found that things are a bit easier than they seemed. However, there are still things that I don't particularly like about the template (which I may be able to to change). The spacing between sentences is not wide enough for me. I'm now putting two spaces between each sentence, and though that isn't particularly jarring for me, it is still more of an annoyance than I should have to deal with. Also, the space between the header and the text of these entries is too short for my taste. In fact, there isn't much space at all.

*Another EDIT*

It seems that blogspot likes to have hiccups. I just had some annoying problems with editing, and the double spaces I've been putting between my sentences seem to be negated by the template. I'm still keeping an open mind (mostly because of the spell-check feature) but this is turning out to be more of a hassle than it may be worth.

Test

A good friend told me about this blog site, so I thought I would give it a try. So far, I am pretty impressed with it. It may actually be better for me than Xanga...