Friday, September 28, 2007


And a happy 300th post to The Other Dentist. Wahoo!

You know, I've had a good day today. A lot of great things have been happening this evening. Mutual was spectacular. One of our leaders got his old mission president to come and have a discussion with us, it was just way too cool. Just a lot of great stuff that we talked about.

Levi and James came over tonight and we got to talk for a really long time. It was so nice to just sit back and talk with them. They came over to borrow some discs, but ended up staying for two and a half hours or so. We really just talked about everything, it felt great. I love being with good people. I love being able to just talk, not about anything really in particular. It was the total opposite of stress. We were just there, talking about real things, being genuine. Genuine - that's one of the best feelings in the world.

One of the things that we talked about were journals. Levi asked if I kept a journal, and so I busted out all the stuff I've got down on paper. Six notebooks plus a little journal book thing. The first journal starts Dec. 28, 2007. That's seventh grade! I have a continuous line of journal between that day and now. There are scattered days missing here and there, sure, but it's pretty epic.

Dec. 28, 2007. That's before I was diagnosed as diabetic! That's before I could grow facial hair. It's brilliant, just looking back and reading that stuff. I haven't looked at that first journal for years. I was a wee lad. It's funny to look and see the glimpses of me. It's just, wow, so cool! In seventh grade I wrote more about the nerd team than anything else. I talked about practice and whether or not I had studied, how our games went. Nothing major, each night's worth of writing was really only a paragraph for a long time, but it was cool. It's funny to look back and see how I got along with people I absolutely love now. Apparently the whole month of January I was mad at Jason. He was my classic opponent with nerds, and we did a fair amount of head-butting. It's just funny to see the seventh grade edition of me mad at somebody.

There are a lot of cool things that I remember from it though. Insights and whatnot. I wrote on the 24th of January (03) about a hymn I listened to that day and a certain line I loved. I sang that hymn a week or so ago and saw that line and remembered it, remembered why I loved it. I had forgotten it was in the journal, but just ran into it. Score it.

Seventh grade had some good times. Such innocent times. Me, Kyle, and James, squaring off for the ladies. So funny.

You know, I'm happy to have the journals. I don't look back and read them as often as I should, but it's a great feeling to know that they're there. I know that they're not the most secure form ever, notebooks don't hold up well in floods and fires, but what can you do? Maybe one day I'll start digitizing them all.

The point is, by taking a few minutes every day, I feel stronger. I've learned a lot from the journal experience. I've figured a lot of stuff out. I think it helped out on AP tests. Journaling is one of the better choices I've made.

I mean c'mon, a journal since I was 12?! Do you know how much I've changed since I was 12?! When I was 12 I wanted to be a programmer when I grew up! I learned VB and always aspired to learn Java and C++ but never did. So cool! I was the super nerd. Seventh grade was before I ever ran anything! That was before the first cross country!

It's cool to be able to look back and see me. It's so cool to know that it's me. I've been thinking this week a lot about the things that I've done that have brought me to the place that I'm at now. Working on the homecoming committee meant that I had to help out with the pageant. I got put back stage making things happen. Do you remember, that's what I did my whole ninth grade year? Engineering that year made me grow a lot, it gave me skills.

There have been a lot of great things all building up to make me who I am. I'm a cumulative effort here. It's so cool to see all the different things come together to influence the way I make choices.

I thought of an interesting question a few weeks ago. I wrote it down on a sticky-note because it made me feel good to think about it. I hadn't planned on it tonight, but I'm going to talk about it.

"When did I start being me?"

There are a lot of answers to that question for me. I know that I'm an eternal being, that I've been around a lot longer than this earth and that I'll be around forever. My soul has been me forever. I've seen a lot more days than I can remember.

The answers to that question depends on how you define me. If we define me as an eternal intelligence, then I've been here forever. If we define me as the guy with the body, I've been me for 17 years. If we define me as the person with the gifts and talents that I've been given, I've been me for about the same, roughly 17.

But what do we define me as? I've been me forever, but me is also changing every day. That's something that I love. When I think about me, I think about the person I am right now. I think about my attitudes and my beliefs, and I think about how I want to treat other people.

I feel very strongly that the me right now isn't that same me that was me during junior high. There are a lot of throwbacks, that's for sure, but I have grown. Physically I'm a stronger person. The height of my physical strength was junior cross country season, right after the summer. That was brilliant. I'm not that strong right now, but I know who I am. I think that I'm mentally stronger now than ever before, perhaps with the exception of right before junior year AP tests. Those were brilliant times.

I think that the biggest change in me has been one in beliefs and attitudes. Through the things that life has thrown at me I've had to make decisions about who I want to be and how I want to see other people.

If I were to define me, that's how I'd like to do it. Outside of the eternal identity, I'd like the next closest definition of me to be how I see the world and the great people in it. If there's one area of growth that I feel really happy about, it's that one.

It's odd to talk about "me" so much. It feels a little egotistical. But I don't intend it to be, I'm just exploring thoughts.

Life has thrown a lot of good passes to me. I've had a lot of great opportunities. It's amazing to look back on life and see all those great opportunities. It's been a long time since I've thought about them all. Junior high was a great time for me. I learned so much about everything. Nerd team was beautiful. I credit about half of the success I've seen in high school academics to the nerd team. Engineering was a very stressful job. It irritated me more than anything else in Junior High. And yet, it taught me amazing things. I learned to value stone cold dependability very highly. I learned a lot about hard work. I think more than anything I learned a lot about working with and managing a team. In junior high I learned to love running. I got a small taste of how it feels to win a race. I got a small idea of how beautiful running really is. It didn't come into fullness until high school. There's just a huge difference between running neighborhoods in junior high and running the park way in high school. But I learned to love running, and I made it a good habit. I learned to love people in junior high. I didn't understand a lot of them, and I had pretty confused ideas about people in general. But I learned how to love a few of them, and got a little bit better at showing that love. I believe that that was the beginning of who I am today. Without those important people teaching me the things that they taught, I don't think I would be the person I am today. I had to explore real questions and find real answers with those people. All the sudden everything that I'd always been told meant something. All the sudden I had to find out for myself. How can I help this person if I don't know it?

I can trace one of the best story-arcs of my life back to one decision. I have a lot of people to thank for that one decision. I wouldn't have ever known before that it would be so important. I had no idea, really. I thank my mom for instilling in me the value of doing things I said I'd do, even if I didn't really want to do it. I thank Courtney for being a great friend and having a party.

It's funny how that all works out. How the simple decisions that we make every day can take us places. It's a certainty that the choices we make affect the people we become. I don't feel like it's even an exclusively long-term thing. From the moment we being to make choices we begin to shape the people that we are. Since day one I've been changing. When I make good choices I change for the better.

I think there was a poster right outside the auditorium at Eisenhower that said something to the effect of, "I am the grand total of all my choices". I really like that. I believe it.

So what's the point of all this? Maybe it's just a good opportunity to look back at the way that life has been. More than that I think it's a chance to look back and appreciate the paths that brought me where I am today. There are a lot of good people that have helped me be who I am. There are so many friendly faces along the way. There is much love for my past.

I am so glad that I am where I am today. I really feel like I can't take responsibility for all the opportunities I've been given. I know that that's entirely against everything I've been preaching this whole post, but I feel like a very lucky man. Things have had a tendency to work out for me. Why did Andrew join the nerd team, and thereby inspire me to do it? Why did Sharpe ask me to be an engineer? Why'd Kyle and Tanya get me to run Cross Country? Why did my family instill the values that they instilled? How did I get so lucky, to meet the right people at the right times in my life?

I look back and see Junior High as the great forming grounds of my life. I have a lot of love for Eisenhower, the home that gave me the opportunities to grow. I have a lot of love for the people that helped me along the way. In whatever capacity, the great people who influenced my life. I feel so lucky.

I can't chalk all of it up to coincidence and good luck. If my life has a plan, I know there's someone up there who's very excited about all of this. There's a reason for the paths that I've taken. It has been my choice from day one, and the things that I've learned since day one are suddenly useful. There's a reason for the way we are. There's a reason for life.

I can't look at junior high and not see that. I just can't do it.

When did I start being me? I think I've been me since day one. Me has changed a lot. The me that I am today has got a lot to thank the me I was yesterday for.

We're building forever on tomorrows. Tomorrow's edition of me will have a lot to blame today's edition of me for. How his health is, how tired he is, the responsibilities he has. To a large extent the developed talents and knowledge as well.

Tomorrow I'm going to take everything I've learned from life and apply it to be the best person I can be.

The day after that, I'm gonna take everything plus tomorrow and see what I can make of myself.

And so we go on, forever and ever, upwards and upwards. It's been an amazing journey thus far. I am me for a reason.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


*yesterday's essay. Not my favorite essay ever, but one of my favorite ideas for an essay ever. You don't have to read this if you don't want to. *

Essay #1: The Defense of Poetry


It has been stated that truth is the absolute defense. I am an individual assigned to defend the value of poetry, and I have an opportunity in the introduction of this essay to choose one of two paths. I can follow the path of the fool and regurgitate the words I assume the audience wants to hear, or I can stand up for truth and that which I really believe. I choose truth. I am taking a risk of entirely missing the mark on this assignment and being misunderstood by others. I feel an obligation to pursue that which I believe, and therefore I launch into this essay, doing my best to explain that which dwells in my heart.

A very wise friend of mine once made a statement that I entirely disagree with. He wrote, “Without poetry, life would be meaningless.” As a sensible and reasonable individual, I can not accept that statement as truth. I know too much of life, too much of metabolic processes and love between two individuals to believe that poetry is the true decider of a life's worth. Because I know that that statement is false, I am forced to reject it. I have no room for falsehoods in my life.

Our society is inundated by those who regurgitate and echo the refrain that my friend so nobly chorused. Why does society accept that statement and repeat it like some pledge of allegiance? I believe that the statement has become a cliché, uttered so often that the truth of it isn't questioned, it's just uttered again and again. Nearly every artist and high school student has been forced to listen to the statement in one form or another. “Art is a Rose in full bloom / Life without art is Death after Doom.” Does Darlene Lewis really believe what she wrote in her poem “Life without ART”? I don't know who Darlene Lewis is, but her statement resembles my friend's very closely. No matter the reason that particular poem was written, or why any number of similar poems and essays and songs were penned, the idea that without art life is meaningless has been absorbed into our social consciousness. Billy Collins, in “Introduction to Poetry” says that “all they want to do / is tie the poem to a chair with rope / and torture a confession out of it.” Are we perhaps trying to make poetry fit the description we have placed on it? Do we as robots force poetry to be the measure of the meaning of life? Collins reminds us that we have a tendency to make poetry be things that it is not. I believe that this is happening now. Poetry, which is not the meaning of life, is being taught in public schools and popular culture to be the meaning of life.

It is the mark of a wise man to question a cliché. It is the mark of a brave man to stand up for what he believes in. It takes an individual with courage and wisdom to admit that one does not see poetry the way the rest of his or her peers do. I give honor to those brave men and women who disrupt an English class in defense of truth. They have stood and continue to stand against the falsehood that is the cultured robot's anthem. How could life be meaningless without art or poetry? Life is too brilliant for that! They know that life without poetry isn't meaningless, and it is for that reason that they must and do reject poetry. It is not a hatred or ignorance of the art form, but rather a rejection of the philosophy that poetry is everything. It's not about the poetry, it's about how the poetry is packaged and sold to them. How can one accept poetry when it's definition according to society is unacceptable to that individual?

I understand and sympathize with these persons. Their plight is not unknown to me. I am an ex-poetry detractor. I see the value of poetry, and preach that value to all who read this essay. There are parties in the world who wish for me to say that I have seen the error of my ways and have since changed. This is not true. Rather, I have seen the truth of my ways and have been strengthened by those truths. I am not the one who is confused about poetry. I am a poetic rebel. I see the beauty and value of art, and yet I have a firm belief that without art and poetry our lives would still be full and meaningful. The difference between myself and the cyborgs is that we disagree on the true importance of poetry. The poetic zealots say that we're doomed to be clones without it, that poetry is everything to everyone. I believe that poetry is an optional endeavor, that it has much to offer, but that it is not a compulsory thing. One can be a true man with a meaningful life without loving poetry.

My rebel theory says that a poem is like a shovel. Archibald MacLeish, who is clearly not a rebel, says in “Ars Poetica” that “A poem should be wordless / As the flight of birds.” and “A poem should be equal to: / Not true.” I think that Archibald has been deceived by the robot's anthem. He is looking for and supporting something that is not necessarily there for all people. For the rebel writing this paper, a poem is not like a flight a birds, a poem is like a shovel. A shovel is only useful if a man is around to use it. Otherwise it sits and digs no holes- it doesn't fulfill the measure of its creation. Poetry is likewise dependent on humanity to fulfill its worth. Poems exist to enlighten men, but how can poems enlighten men if there are no men to be enlightened? Without an individual to use the tool, either the shovel or the poem, the tool's existence is irrelevant.

To appreciate and use poetry we need to understand poetry, and to understand poetry we must know what it is not. We can not be confused about its identity. Lawrence Ferlinghetti, in his poem “Constantly Risking Absurdity” explores the absolute necessity for poets to find the true identity of whatever they are poem-ing about. “...and all without mistaking / any thing / for what it may not be / for he's the super realist”. If it is important for a poet to not mistake one thing for another, it is doubly important for us to not mistake poetry for that which it is not. Poetry, no matter how much we may want to believe otherwise or how many posters in English classrooms say so, is not the silver bullet. It is not the end all. It is not the only means to accomplish something. A. E. Housman in “Terence, this is stupid stuff” uses a character to remind us that “malt does more than Milton can / To justify God's ways to man.” Poetry isn't your only option, and it will not make your hair grow back and your ex-girlfriend love you again. Poetry is not the true measure of life. Life can have meaning without it. Poetry has no cosmic heartbeat. We cannot afford, as a society interested in truth, to confuse these issues.

After that diatribe is would be easy to assume I have rescinded back into my old ways, that I am not converted to the philosophy of poetry. I spent the last paragraph lambasting the poor thing. I went so far as to accuse it of being of this world and mundane. Be not confused, I have a deep love for poetry. I believe I have a deeper and purer love for poetry than most, In fact. For I see poetry as its true self. I am not in love with a romantic facade, I am in love with poetry for what it is.

Poems, just like shovels, are tools. They can aid mankind on its quest. The value of poetry is that one man can share his experience or thought with another man through a permanent medium. He can express that idea to another man, and that other man has an opportunity to gain something from it himself. It allows mankind to share the collective wisdom that has been accrued since the beginning. Shovels allow mankind to dig better holes. They are tools.

Poems are beautiful and worthwhile because of that value, that sharing that man uses it for. The beauty is in the solid good that it does a man. That's the value of it, nothing abstract, just the good it does as a tool. I defend poetry because it helps individual humans understand themselves and their world. I defend poetry because it has practical value and insight to offer those who seek it. I defend poetry for what it is; my defense is pure.

Love the Time Stamp

I'm always in the best of moods when I finish English essays late at night.

I think I'll post it tomorrow, I think it turned out alright.

Moral of the story? I finished it, I'm a champion.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Journal of a long time

I think that as humans we have a fear of things getting stuck. As long as we can see things changing we feel comfortable and happy. Once we start to feel that life is going to be the same for a long time, we freak out.

I think that might be why I'm afraid of all this homework. It's not really that it's so bad, it's just that it leaves me with no options. The homework is here to stay, at least for now. There is no short-term respite from its onslaught. On a day I don't have "pressing homework" I need to do my background homework, that is, all state and C+P.

It's the long time commitment that's frightening. I don't want to be stuck in this tunnel without options forever. I don't want to have to read C+P the rest of my life. I wouldn't mind practicing all state if I ever got around to it. I really enjoy doing it when I do it. It's just a chore because I don't do it. It's a time commitment. One that I've been having trouble making.

These choices will come back to me. It's justice. When I work hard and do good things, good things come back to me. When I do not work hard and do not do good things, good things do not necessarily come back to me.

And so I'm writing here tonight. Not because I really have time, but because I think it's important to poke a hole out of the tunnel. It may just be I'm stuck in this tunnel for a very long time. It might be a while until I learn to breathe underneath the smothering tunnel-fluids. And so I'm poking a hole.

Yep, I'm still here. I might be stuck in a tunnel, but at least I'm here. The Ninja Turtles have been in tunnels before. They got oozed. Maybe I'll get oozed.

Probably not physically, but perhaps metaphorically. It's a tunnel, and tunnels always mean learning.

It's not really that bad of a tunnel. We don't fear tunnels. We just fear long tunnels. I don't mind writing an essay tomorrow. I mind writing an essay tomorrow and then reading and making a brochure on wednesday. Thursday means practice and reading and Friday means similar things. I've got commitments to Ultimate and other such business.

I like a good tunnel adventure. It is when the tunnel adventure becomes the only option that I get a little stir-crazy. I think we're naturally a little flighty. We like things to change. I like the weather to change. I like my clothes to change. I like breakfast, on occasion, to change. The same thing every day doesn't quite suit me. I don't like not being able to choose when I'm gonna do.

Now, by no means am I so restricted as I imply here. It's just a homework-induced blog post.

I will not let my life slip away from me. I will leave my mark and be something greater. I always, always feel good when I post. I think there are lots of reasons for that, but I think one of them is that I'm leaving parts of myself. I will not vanish. I'm like a bank. There's a paper trail that leads right to me, right now. Hey, I'm here. I've existed in writing for a very long time. I've got journals that go back a few years, I've got posts that go back two or so. Ha, I didn't just show up. I'm really here. I'm still here.

What does the future hold for me? Am I really capable of finding the balance? I feel like the classic argument about government. Where do we draw the line between freedom and security? Where do we need to stop letting the people choose their own destinies because they're all growing up to be mailmen? Where do we enforce structure and where do we let them run wild?

During the summer I feel there isn't enough structure for me to excel at anything. I am a lump. During the school year I feel smothered by structure, all I want to do is get free and follow my dreams. Once I'm free I don't have dreams any more.

It's the same deal with running. Cross Country was not an optional thing, it was just what I did. I ran, and I didn't really have a choice about whether or not I'd run. I just ran. It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to follow my own running dreams. I wanted to run where and how and when I wanted to. And now here I am, without the obligation. My dreams are going unfulfilled, it's been weeks since I've been running.

So where can I draw the line? I think that's still a part of me that requires a lot of growth. I need to find balance. Balance between doing what must be done and what I would like to do. Balance between progress in one area and progress in another. Balance between myself and others. Balance between carbohydrates and insulin. Balance between the van and the bike, the ultimate and the anything else. Balance between freedom to sleep in and the power to wake up.

It's balance that I'm searching for. I'm going to work on that.

I hope that this post comes off the right way. It's not a sad post by any means. It's just an exploratory post. I'm writing the things that I'm thinking as I'm writing. I think that's another reason I feel so good about posting. I get to think. I'm sort of tricked into thinking about things and exploring their meanings. I get to know me a little bit better. I think that that's the goal behind every school assignment, isn't it? To get us to think. Not every school assignment, some are just designed to improve fine motor skills. But talking high school, I think everything is ultimate an effort to make me sit down and think. I think that it's by thinking that we solve problems. Thinking is how we make progress. We need to sit and evaluate and get to know things better and then we are empowered to make better choices.

I think that making better choices is the whole point. That's what we're shooting for, right?

Then isn't it natural that we ought to pursue a path that empowers us to make better choices? That's why we go to school and why we blog and why we dance and run and fret and do the things that we do. Because ultimately we're trying to be able to make better choices. We want to be empowered to make the best choices that we can. We're working on that.

One must ponder what is really important. There comes a time when I have got to ask myself if Ultimate is important at all. It has its charms, sure, but why? Why do we put forth the effort that we do? Is it truly worth it?

I do love Ultimate, but wasn't frisbee friday enough? What have we done to the pure tradition? If nothing else can survive, why couldn't frisbee friday survive? Where are my lights?

At this point we have to make decisions. We can't have it all. We must choose between two things. It's a compromise. Most of that compromise for me deals with time management right now. Am I going to take a nap or do my homework? One or the other has to give.

And I think that's how I'm seeing Ultimate right now. Why have I signed myself up to devote so much time to it? Yes, it's something that I love. But I also have a responsibility to do my homework and all sorts of other stuff. When it comes time to choose between the two, which one is really more effective for me to keep in my life?

Just some stuff to think about, that's all. Don't assume I'm abandoning Ultimate. I just wonder if we really need anything aside from Frisbee Friday. After all, I do really love frisbee friday.

I am not a shovel, but I am glad that I have come here tonight.

There is a certain allure to contradictions in literature. There's little better to describe a man than to declare him a contradiction. We love a contradiction. And why is it so? I believe it's because a contradiction proves that we are right. We don't believe this facade of a world that we've set up. We don't believe in the social class and the implied rules of men. We live by it, by all this fabric we've set up. But we don't believe it, and we're searching for the rips and the holes in the seams. We know it's not real, and we love proof of it.

That's why we love a contradiction. Because our ideas that we've collectively formulated about the way that society and people ought to be don't sit well with us. A contradiction shows us that we were wrong, and we love to be wrong when it comes to people. "He was a man." We love a man that can show us that what we know isn't true isn't true. We love a contradiction, it reminds us that there's something behind this game that we're playing together.

12:57 AM

Happy Sunday everybody, I hope you're doing well.

I just finished my English essay. I love first drafts.

It's not that good, but it's finished. It's not what one would expect. It doesn't have the required poetry cited in it. It's barely over two pages long.

Really, it's not a good "essay"

But the ideas in there are beautiful. The idea, the core, it's solid. I could stand up in front of the class and give a five minute diatribe on why I am right.

I think I tried to do that with the essay. I used my flow of speech style of writing. The one with the random comma's. I think it's a combination of the great speakers I've heard in my life. Scriptures, SNL celebrity jeopardy, Stephen Colbert. Throw them all together and you get a whack essay that is better heard than read.

It will undergo a radical revision come Tuesday. Until then I'll take my credit with a smile.

Yeah, it's 1 AM. It's looking too late to write an epic post. It's looking too late to read C+P or practice all state. But that's ok, because I'm alive, and as far as I know I'm still moving.

Perhaps there will come a day in the near future (we're talking days here) that I will have to make sacrifices to make things work. Right now I'm sacrificing All State and C+P to finish my homework. I do need to stop that.

Tomorrow I'm going to work hard. I'm going to work hard to ride my bike to school. I'm going to work hard in school. I'm going to work hard after school. I'm going to watch Heroes. And then I'm going to work hard and then go to bed.

It's not that I don't have enough time. I just haven't risen to the challenge quite yet.

My entire essay was really about that challenge, that quest. The main jist is that I'm a man on a quest, and poetry is just poetry. I have eternal worth and value, my potential is limitless. I'm running through everything here trying to be better. Poetry is just poetry.

And therefore poetry should not be idol-worshipped for what it is not. Poetry is a tool that man uses. It is a very good tool. It can help men on their quest. That is where its value comes in.

Not in it's being. Not in it's world. It's value is in the fact that it can help people. Poetry is beautiful because of it. I have love for poetry because of it. I do love poetry.

But then again, I love shovels. And you don't hear me raving about shovels, do you?

But I could rave about shovels. Maybe, to be fair, I will one day.

I don't hate poetry by any means. I love poetry. I just don't believe that poetry is the most important thing. You and I, we're the important things. Poetry can help us. We can't help poetry. Poetry can't be helped at all. It's just there, inanimate. But you and I are living and moving beings, we're on a quest and we need all the help we can get.

It's a deep breath, but I'm loving it. It's fresh, and fresh is what I'm after.

The weather is changing. I love when the weather changes. I think it goes back to human nature. We're all about changing. We have a very hard time noticing the way things are. We're built to notice when things change. When we talk about physics and kinematics we find out that the earth is hurtling along at millions of miles a second in its orbit around the sun. You'd think we'd feel that kind of motion.

But we don't, yet we can feel the slightest acceleration one way or the other. We are all about acceleration. As far as we know, if we aren't changing, we simply are not.

That's how I am about the weather. I like the rain because it's a departure from the normal. It's a new opportunity to see and explore the world, because all the sudden it's an entirely different world out there. A world with rain is nothing like a world without rain. I love the change.

Stalwart. I think stalwart is a good word. Something I'd like to be. I wouldn't mind having that on a headstone, would you?

There are certain words like that. Words that you would always feel honored to be called. I get the feeling that everybody except the very confused still love and respect those words. I think everybody still knows, deep down, that old school virtue will win us all. There's nothing cooler than old school virtue. "That guy was so loyal, that guy was so steady. That guy was stalwart, that guy had courage. That guy was nice to everybody he met."

When I'm looking for adjectives to be, I think I've found the list that I want to pursue. What's cooler than old school virtue?

Sunday, September 23, 2007

The Write

I feel very good inside. I will do my best to write something good for us all tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope that you're doing well. If you're not doing well, maybe you and I should have a talk, so email me.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

September 21, 2007

I begin to think that one of the vital differences between good days and bad days is that I'm prepared for good days and unprepared for bad days.


Monday, September 17, 2007

The Day

Today is the day.

I woke up early. I shaved, I put my contacts in. I put fruit in my cereal.

And why? Because today is one of those days. One of those fine, great smelling, one hundred percent kind of days.

Sunday, September 16, 2007


So, I've got this theory. All ninth grade girls smell the same. Or, maybe it's not so much a smell as it is some hidden unconscious similarity that comes out at region dances.

It's not a bad thing, just a very surprising thing. They say that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. I heard it in a commercial once.

What does it all mean? It means that I've been to lots of region dances in my day. Has it really only been three and a half years worth? Have I really been there for all of that?

Every dance is unique. The situation I bring to the table is different every single time. The first dance ever, a wee lad. That first time I ever asked a girl to dance more than once. That one time, that other time, all those times.

The region dance has carried me a long way. It's seen me grow up. It's been a part of my maturing process. That different people I've been throughout the history of the region dance, it's enlightening. Has it really only been three and a half years? From the dance with the side-hair, from all those times we almost knew who Austin was, but didn't really? Wow. Three and a half years? It feels like my whole life, my whole history can be explained in terms of region dances. If the Native Americans used pictures inside their dwellings to tell histories, I'm going to use region dances. Three and a half years?

Maybe there's more to that old saying than I thought...

You know, if there's one way to look at the person I've been, I'm glad that it can be the region dance. I've done a little bit of growing up, a little bit of changing.

The warm gym will always hold a special place in my heart. If all else fails, I know my past is preserved in the memories of the sweaty dress-shirt.

Here's to you, girls of my life. You've come and gone and stayed and come again and are maybe still out there. But if there's one thing for certain, it's that the region dance, that's where I'll always remember.

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

End the Madness

Adult roles reading assignments are poorly organized. That poor organization ruins the assignment. Its efficiency and effectiveness is cut by at least 60 percent. Because the questions are in the wrong order, I'm not learning as well.

Therefore, I'm taking this into my own hands to organize them correctly. I'm also taking it into my own hands to share that organization with anybody willing. I'm posting it up here. Tell your friends, it might save some time.

Chapter 4 - Gender Roles

Page #: Question(s):
108 ---- 14
109 ---- 7, 13
110 ---- 22, 26, 15
111 ---- 39
112 ---- 16, 38
113 ---- 8, 10
114 ---- 32, 34
115 ---- 1, 30, 40, 44
116 ---- 3, 5
117 ---- 9, 17
118 ---- 4, 29, 31
119 ---- 31, 37
120 ---- 2
121 ---- 16
122 ----
123 ---- 23, 41
124 ---- 11, 43, 45
125 ---- 45
126 ---- 20, 33
127 ---- 20, 28, 35
128 ----
129 ---- 12
130 ---- 19, 21, 24
131 ---- 6, 21, 27
132 ---- 25
133 ---- 42
134 ---- 42
135 ----
136 ---- 36
137 ----
138 ----
139 ----

*notes: this is accurate as far as the assignment is accurate (as far as I know). If a question appears twice, it's cause it says 126-127, so I put it on both. Any problems/comments, leave me a comment. Also, there is no particular order once you're on that page. You're on your own once you get to the right page.

Tuesday at Midnight

What ever happened to midnight? Back in the day it used to carry such weight.

"And then, as the clock struck midnight, the mysterious cow jumped over the even more mysterious fence! Oh, just wait, it gets even better..."

Yeah, it's midnight. I'm wide awake. My dad is downstairs watching C-span. I really wouldn't be too surprised by somebody knocking on the door or calling the cell.

I think the industrial revolution cost Midnight his job of being the middle of the night. My middle of the night is three to four. If something mysterious is gonna happen, it's gonna happen then. Five o'clock is just really early and anywhere from midnight to two is latter evening.

If I was going to jump over a mysterious fence, I'd do it at three thirty.

-A lower range for my voice (I can almost, almost hit an F...)
-A bigger lung capacity (I can almost, almost last three measures....)
-Hot-Glue resistant fingers

Monday, September 10, 2007

When I Grow Up

When I grow up, I want to be one of those guys that puts fruit in his cereal.

In my brain it symbolizes the apex of all self-reliance and opulence. If you've got time and fruit to devote to your cold cereal, you are a lucky man indeed.

And, well, I want to be a lucky man when I grow up.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Called it

Aha! Wikipedia's front page is reporting 2 million English articles today. Here's to 2 million more!

Friday, September 07, 2007

Good More News

Just passing through, but two good pieces of news:

Wikipedia is about to hit the 2 million english article mark. They always show the count on the front page when you go to search. It's currently at 1,985,000 articles. Here's to you, Wikipedia.

Second piece of good news, our two lovely Mars rovers, Spirit and Opportunity, seemed to have weathered out the dust storms during Mars' dusty season and are getting closer to being ready to adventure again. During the several months of dust storms they don't get nearly enough solar energy to run at full capacity, so they've been hibernating. The storms are dying down, so it's just about time to power up again. For a mission that's lasted way more than twice as long as it was planned, those are some pretty pimp rovers.

Two pieces of good news. Thought y'all might like it.