Annoying Even At Night

Yesterday I got my first blog request. I called up Gurney to tell her that she had a cameo in a dream of mine the night before, and she said I had to blog about it. Keep in mind that this post would otherwise have not been written. First, as I've said in the past, no one cares about other people's dreams unless they're in them. Which is why I called up in Gurney in the first place. Second, I didn't feel the dream touched upon a subject worth talking about. However, Gurney, who has not yet to come to fully grasp my brilliancefeels that I was (as always in her opinion) wrong in my dream and everyone needs to know about it.

Like pretty much all of my dreams it involved a trip. Essentially my dreams are me going somewhere and visiting briefly rather than staying somewhere. Almost all my dreams take place in temporary locations, I'm never in the same spot for long although I tend to visit the same spots over and over throughout the nights. So this time I was traveling with a fairly decent sized group of people on a trip that was going to take more than one day to complete. I was traveling in a large van that had a 3x2 matrix of captain chairs that were quite separated from each other which created a large middle area (bear with me I need to set some things up). I had a few travel companions, the two most important being Gurney and another stranger who I made up in the dream but we shall call Jerry just cause I need to call the stranger something (you may be thinking that I may be referring to someone in particular, the answer is sort of but not really).

We had plans to stay in my old elementary school for the night (it's a dream I don't have a reason why we were there but it comes up frequently, especially the basement before the renovations). As a result of this we all had the foresight to bring sleeping bags, pillows and sheets. All of us excepting Jerry who only brought a sheet. Additionally, Jerry was wearing blue-jean shorts while I was wearing proper blue-jeans.

Now here is where the dream really got started. Gurney noticed Jerry's lack of bedding and asked me to share mine with him. I happened to have extra everything, including an extra pair of jeans he could wear so that he wouldn't get cold in the night wearing shorts. I did not like this idea at all. Not because I had a problem sharing my extra bedding and jeans, but it was the consequences of doing so. Jerry knew good and well we were going to be staying that night in the school, and like everybody else he should have made preparations to ensure a proper night's sleep. To his credit he wasn't complaining about his situation in the dream, only Gurney seemed to have a problem with it.

So Gurney wanted me to share my bedding and jeans to help him out. My problem with that is that in doing so Jerry would essentially be spoiled. He didn't prepare but was still going to get the benefit of my foresight. If Jerry had special needs that would be one thing, or if he simply forgot to grab his bag on the rush out the door that would be another, but no, instead he just didn't think to bring anything proper. He brought something, in this case a sheet, which indicates he at least had the capability of thinking ahead, but it was clearly not going to offer much help against the hard stone floor. So I said, let him sleep with that sheet. It's only for a night and it will teach him to think ahead next time. It's not like one rough night is going to kill him. Giving him my extra supplies in my opinion was an injustice to him. He wasn't going to learn anything if I gave him that stuff, and in the long run I would be doing him a disservice. By not sharing my stuff I would actually be facilitating his growth. I see no reason why I should enable idiots.

But Gurney wouldn't let the issue drop. She insisted that I give him my extra bedding and jeans. At this point I started getting annoyed. Gurney has that affect on me. And I said I'd give him the stuff. That wasn't good enough. Not only did she want me to give it to him, but she also wanted me to see it from her point of view that I was doing a nicety. I had to do with a smile and charitable heart. I told her she was wrong, but that I didn't care enough to get into another one of our fights about it. I'd give him the clothes off my back and sleep on the floor in the middle of the van (told you it was important) if it would get her off my case. No still not good enough for her. She just kept going on and on about it. Then that broke the straw and I gave her the riot act. It was quite impressive. I remember even in the dream being proud at how it all came out, because normally I don't think of the good things to say until after the fact. This time it all came out exactly how I wanted it to, and after it I stormed off, quite pleased, to the next bit of the dream, thinking that this is what happens when I bottle things up for years on end. Give me a reason and it's all coming out.

The reason I was asked to post this is because Gurney somehow thinks she was right in the dream to tell me to give Jerry my extra stuff. And I still think, just like in my dream, that she's completely wrong here.

Corny Dialogue

About the only thing harder than going up to strangers to try to start a conversation, is not getting discouraged when things don't go well. After Mass on Wednesday, Sr. Sarah requested to the rest of the congregation that she needed more drivers to help drive freshmen to and from a retreat being held for them this weekend. I perked up at this opportunity because this was an easy way to get to meet new people (yes, even I agree the freshmen are way too young, just go with me here), and do something good for a change because I am by far the most self-serving person I know. But in a special way I thought it would be nice in that this time I would be able to give my passengers a treat by way of a ride in my kitty-cat. And sure enough the three guys I wound up with were quite thrilled to get to ride for a half-hour with me. And tomorrow I'll get to take another three back. So that was nice. I do like volunteering and making people happy, I should probably get over my last fiasco and do more (see Squirrel Nests).

After that I had a free evening ahead with many opportunities. A concert was being held where I work, a sweet corn festival was going on in the neighboring town, and my own place brought in a circus. I decided to skip the concert and start with the circus.

I love circuses. I love watching the performers and the trained animals. I even love the clowns. So I was very intrigued by the notion that my complex was bringing in a circus. The problem is that circuses are hot-spots for families. I knew walking on over about all I was going to see were established families and little children running around but I went anyway. My plan was to find someone who I pass by on my walks around the pond but have never talked to. There are quite a few residents here that I see nearly everyday from walking around that I've never introduced myself to. But unfortunately I did not see any of them at the circus, and as I expected it was mostly all families and children. As I was walking through I saw something far more eye-catching than the circus performers. Just as I was leaving the main crowd, I passed by a lady standing off to the side lighting up a cigarette. Now I have had precious little exposure to pregnant women but she was pregnant if I've ever seen one. I couldn't believe it. Never in a million years would I have thought to see, in this day and age, pregnant lady smoking. I almost said something, I was really close, but then I thought that maybe just maybe she wasn't pregnant. Like I said, I haven't been around really anyone who has been pregnant so I don't know precisely what they look like, but she had all the signs. So instead of saying something I decided to play it safe and give her one of my "if looks could kill" faces with a little sake of the head left and right. Unfortunately she didn't look at me as I passed by.

I finished my walk and headed back up to my place. Today is Friday and that means Monk is on. Yet, while I was in Charlottesville, WAM had to go and say that if I'm watching Monk in my apartment on a Friday night, I have absolutely no chance of meeting someone, whereas if even I just go outside for a walk there is at least the possibility no matter how remote. Stupid WAM you've ruined the one thing I look forward to each week! So I recorded it, and headed back out to try my luck at the sweet corn festival.

Even on the way I had little hopes this was going to be worth it. My plan was to walk around and see if I could find anyone I know, or maybe some other person wandering around that I could talk to. Amazingly I don't think 5 minutes went by for any length of time where I didn't see someone I knew. Right away I ran into the person who originally hired me at my current job, although he himself is no longer with the company. Then I walked by a girl who was with a group of unfamiliar friends. This girl is involved with the Church I go to, and I've seen her a bunch. So we caught each other's eye, said "Hi" real quick and I kept on walking. This is because I am shy. She was with a group of people I didn't know, I couldn't think of anything to say right off the bat, and I don't like just forcing myself upon people. Then I grew a pair and made a u-turn. She was in line to get some sweet corn, but in order to get the corn you have to have tickets. So I had to find a place that sold the tickets, and get in line. I was hoping that maybe I could somehow get the tickets and get in line with them, since they were at the back. However, by the time I got in line they were already eating their corn. Still unperturbed I got my corn, and walked over to her and said 'Hello' once more. I said I didn't mean to be rude earlier by just saying 'Hi' and walking off, but that I was trying to find a ticket counter so I could get in line to get the corn (actually there's no lie in that, sort of). She either bought that line, or at least pretended to go along with it for my sake, because we properly introduced and talked for about 15 or 20 minutes. Then I excused myself and headed on my way to see the rest of the festival. I didn't want to overstay my welcome and it was still a bit awkward for me. You gotta remember I don't get out much so these social engagements are tough. Like as we (the group not just the girl and I) were talking, people we know came up and said hello. So there could be periods of time when I was just standing there munching on your corn while the others would talk with their friends. And it worked both ways. There were times when I saw some of the group members just standing there awkwardly while I was talking to others. Remember I don't do well with the awkward silences (See Water). But in the end I met some new people, got to talk to that girl, and had corn which was surprisingly tasty. It was also nice to be talking to people my own age for once. That's half the battle in this town. Most everyone seems to either be older or younger.

WAM I hope you're happy. I missed Monk but it didn't turn out too bad. In my defense though tonight's episode looked like a great one.

Goldielocks of Tidy

A few people I know say that I am a bit too neat. This seems like it should be complimentive but instead those people mean it negatively. As though being tidy is an improper habit that indicates deeper character flaws. I think this is purely ridiculous in my case. Specifically, by being sensational I cannot be 'too much of anything' other than right, so therefore these people must be wrong.

Actually this is a symptom of a larger I've noticed lately in our society. Let's take the current example of some people saying I'm too clean. This opinion of theirs is based upon observation and their own pre-conceived notions about just how clean things ought to be in given situations. In my situation, by being a 20 something year bachelor, culturally speaking my living arrangements ought to be shabby, unkempt, and foul smelling. Now I understand that much. We all tend to make these small judgements all the time. The problem is that it does not get to the heart of the matter. Take these clean (or maybe in this case dirty) police. They've got their opinion of me on the matter. Now they have a choice, they can silently hold this impression of me, or they can bring it to light. The first silent option is quite wrong. First, people should care for others, and if they think someone has a legitimate problem that concern should be addressed. Secondly, they may be holding an impression which is quite wrong and could be corrected if only they were to bring it up. In fact maybe it's the person holding the impression who has the problem, because their sense of what's right and wrong could be completely out of whack.

So there are three situations here. First, the person who is too clean could be wrong. Second, the person who is too clean could be right but only appears wrong. Third, the person who has the impression of the person who is too clean has a flaw in their own thinking. Now none of these options can be addressed if the person holding the impression keeps it to himself. Thus it should be addressed. Fortunately, I have the blessing of friends who have no qualms what so ever about telling me what they think about my habits and inclinations.

However, while my friends are right to address the potential problem, my friends are still usually wrong in their approach. They always take situation 1 to be the case. When actually we already know this can never actually be the case, because we have already established that I'm the sensational one. With this in mind, we have to right-away look to situation 2 or 3.

Situation 2 is what I'd like to discuss today. What my friends so very often fail to do is address the possibility of situation 2, and it's very easy to do so. In order to address this situation all one has to do is ask me for my motives. I am constantly amazed at how much I can get away with because no one ever bothers to ask me 'why?'. I think the 'why' question so rarely comes up anymore because culturally we are obsessed with staying out of other people's business. So rather than try to get a clarification, we would rather hold our own impressions on the matter, right or wrong, and never bring it up. I would rather be asked something extraordinarily personal rather than have someone silently seeing me for something I'm not. Anyway, back to the situation. No one ever asks me why I tend to be so neat.

The truth is that I'm not too neat, I just keep certain things more clean and tidy than others. Two weeks back just before I went to Charlottesville, I told a co-worker I was going to wash my tire rims before leaving. He thought this was completely ridiculous. Now generally I would agree with him, however in this case the impression my rims make on my car is tremendous. When they are clean, the car is downright uplifting to the soul. When they are dirty the car looks old, and it brings on depressed emotions. When I had the van, God Bless it, I never bothered with the rims because they looked about the same clean or dirty. The difference between the two wasn't enough to warrant the time required to clean them. So maybe once or twice a year I'd make the effort and get them all nice again. But with my kitty-cat the difference between clean and dirty is incredible. Two days ago my co-worker made fun of me yet again, so I dragged him outside to show him the car. Right away he said the rims looked fine. See, they really don't look that bad when they are dirty because the dirt is uniform. It's the same effect the candle soot had on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. The ceiling still looked amazing and a a tourist would never know the difference because he had never seen it clean before. Then I scrapped off the smallest bit of dust with my shoe and he was flabbergasted to the point that he bent down to test things out with his finger. To further illustrate this to you, my dear readers, I have included before and after photos.

Hence, I am not too neat. I just try to keep certain things looking nice because I find they create a more noticeable impression than other things. So I'm not too tidy, or not too untidy, I'm just right.

Focusing on Martin

Despite promoting itself as the best public library in the country, I could legally buy a gun quicker than I can get a library card at the university. It's going to take 2 weeks for me to get my card and the ability to check out books! I found out today early this afternoon. The reason I found out early this afternoon rather than this evening is because I got off work early. The reason I got off work early was because at 4:00 this morning my body decided it was time for me to get up. I firmly told it I shall not be getting out of my bed, but my body said oh yes you are, and a short while later I'm sitting at my desk at work. I didn't mind because it is amazing out today and I was excited to go to the library to get the books I wanted and enjoy them in the sunshine. But no such luck.

Yesterday, while I was with my out of town friends on the Quad, one of them wound up carrying around Curtis Martin's 'Made for More'. Next thing I know he's telling me how I just have to read it. This is one of my pet peeves. I hate it when people recommend me things because people have terrible taste. Look, like this blog says right at the top of the page, I'm the sensational one. I'll tell you what you ought to be experiencing, not the other way around. Well yesterday somehow I was the one who ended up with that book, and since getting a library card was out of the question, I decided to take Martin's book to the pool instead. It's written at a 4th grade level, and is nice and small which makes it perfect pool food.

Now in fairness, the book is pretty good. The title is stupid and irrevelent to the book, and the first chapter is completely devoid of any theological merit (yes I know he was just painting a nice picture) but otherwise I would recommend it to fulfill specific purposes. The book is 7 chapters, but the first chapter is that theologically ridiculous introduction so we won't count that one. The remaining 6 chapters are very good. Essentially the first 5 are a summation of Christology. And Martin does well at hitting the major points and explaining them very clearly and with relevent examples. One part I very much liked was his bit on the role of the high Queen which I had never heard before. For anyone wanting to know more about Jesus at an introductory or overview level, this book would get a high recommendation from me. And he gives references to a few sources that would allow a curious reader to delve deeper. I always wonder how someone who doesn't believe in Jesus would respond to the arguments put forth in these types of books, like I would love to see a Jewish commentary on this book.

The last chapter is more amusing than anything else. Martin gives us his chicken soup for the soul life story and, true to the FOCUS community he founded, cannot help himself from promoting the importance of Bible studies. It's here and in that introduction where he tries to bring the book's title into play by making those 5 Christological chapters fit into everyday life but come on, 5/7ths of this book is an intellectual study on Christ. I'm not buying his connection. But anyway, if you don't feel like taking an actual course on Christology then this book would be a good way to go.

Mis-interpreted Pink Ribbon

Today was quad day on campus. Each year I try to go out and walk it to see what the students are up to. This year I was happy about some changes I saw. The Catholic ministry booth, in addition to the students running it, had priests walking about meeting the students. I saw them mingling with the students and walking the quad getting to meet people. In years past it was always the nuns who had this role and they kept to the confines of the booth. So I was very pleased to see them taking that extra step to really try to engage with the student body. The next thing I liked was that the prolife booth was being run only by girls. To me that was a plus because so often when I find myself having these types of conversations with girls, if they find they can't get around my arguments they'll just throw out the 'you're a guy card' and reject everything I say because of it. So having a significantly large group of girls running that booth was encouraging to see.

But a part of quad day is not just the booths but also the students themselves. As I was leaving I passed by a girl wearing a 'I heart boobs' (in the 'I heart NY' style) t-shirt. After she passed I started thinking about that shirt. First I was very confused because I thought that should be something an immature college guy would wear, not a girl. Then I thought that maybe it was part of a new campaign for breast cancer awareness. And then I had the 'ooooooooh' moment.

After quad day I went to a cookout at the rectory. I go to this every year because I'm not about to pass up a free meal. Although each year I start feeling a bit older and more out of place. But thankfully, I had some people to sit with and I ended up having dinner with Dr. Howell. To my non-Catholic friends, Dr. Howell is pretty well known among the Catholic community in the United States, and a previous professor of mine while I was in the School of Theology, so it was very nice getting to catch up with him. Although it can be tiring talking to him. He always seems to make convesations pertinent to very important matters. If I wanted to talk to him about the latest Mario Brothers, he'd probably turn the conversation into a discussion on the social implications, good or bad, the past twenty years of technology has had on generation x and y. Tonight he wanted to talk about the Polish community of Chicago, charter schools, and the status of our school's woman's volley ball team. And it was really nice. I always like getting to share some time with my professors outside of the classroom. I find that time can serve as a great motivation to re-focus on my own studies.

Free Bread

Looking at the calendar today, I saw that there were going to be two block parties held downtown. This intrigued me, since generally the younger college students stay away from the downtown area, which makes it a decent place for meeting people closer to my own age. Now the block parties were essentially two concert venues with a bunch of different bands. That makes it difficult to talk to people because of the loud music, but I figured it was better than nothing so I decided to go on out and check out the scene.

As I was getting ready I called Andrew to see if he'd want to come on out. He was already downtown at one of the cafs studying so I met up with him there. From there we then went to another caf that served food so he could eat dinner (I had already eaten). Alright I realize this is a rather mundane fact but I'm mentioning it because while we were the there the caf staff was starting to clean up for the night and one of the workers asked if we'd like some loaves of bread for free. That was pretty fantastic and we both took one. After Andrew finished up and with my loaf of bread in tow we went out to the parties.

The parties were well attended but we didn't see anyone we knew, and no one we'd really like to get to know. However, I noticed one of the waitresses was sort of pretty. Now when it comes to waitresses I've always had the impression that asking them out is just something one doesn't do. I don't know why exactly, but it's always been completely taboo to me. This includes people who serve similar functions such as a grocery store check out lady, or maybe the girl at the video store. You just aren't supposed to ask someone out while they're working. If their out in public then it's fine. Well, I've decided not to let that stop me anymore. But while I was with Andrew I only took notice of her. After walking around for a few minutes we both got bored and decided to call it a night.

When I got home I was a bit frustrated. Here it was 9:30 on a Saturday night and once again no one was calling. I got online looking for a social outlet of some sort and checked my e-mail. But all that was in there were some interesting ads for enhancing me. Apparently these adds don't know I'm stupendous. You just can't enhance stupendous. I deleted those and then just started browsing around. Then I got mad at myself. I knew that if any friends of mine who live out of town were to call me up just to chat because they were lonely and had nothing to do on their Saturday night, I would scream at them to get up and get out and go meet some people. So then I said "fine, I'll go back out and try to engage with that girl."

My reasoning for doing this was because first I'm never going to meet people by sitting here at the computer in my apartment (actually this isn't entirely true and may warrant another blog but for now just go with me). Secondly, I need to get over the difficulties I have trying to meet new people. Third, I shouldn't have double standards and be able to scream at my friends for being idiots when I myself am behaving just like them. Fourth, I needed something to blog about to keep you happy.

I hate going out after 8. If I'm already out and about I don't mind staying out. But actually leaving my place after 8 is a no no. Well at this point it was approaching 10, so going back out was a pretty big deal. When I got there, right away I noticed that while the block party was still packed, she was all by herself, so that was my chance. My plan was again to just ask her if she'd ever like to meet up for a meal or something. It's not very good way to start a conversation but when the nerves are running high it's the best I can do. I go on over and because of the music I lean in and start to ask. But I got all tongue tied. Not that it mattered, she was quick to point out that she has a boyfriend. I put my hand up in that 'I understand' gesture and walked away. This time (see Grocery List), rather than the quickened heartbeat and adrenaline, I had the shakes and butterflies. Nevertheless, I'll still sleep better because at least I went out and tried rather than just sitting around feeling sorry for myself.

But boy is it difficult. Andrew is the only one in town who goes out with me. Actually our friendship is kinda funny. We hang out in order to meet other people. Now you may all think I'm crazy but I'm not (hmm, the Joker said the same thing in the 'Dark Knight'). It's not like I'm not active. I know the easiest way to meet people is by getting involved and I have been involved with several different programs this past year. But it should be possible to meet people at community events like those being held tonight. Yet it so difficult. It seems that everyone is already with a group of friends. And going up all alone and trying to talk to someone is really hard. Now of course I'm ruining it from the getgo by asking something like "wanna hang out sometime?", but it's not like there is a whole lot else to talk about with a complete stranger. It's not like I can just go up to someone and say, "Hey, I find the Method of Moments to be an inefficient algorithm for wire-based antennas because they are resonant structures, how do you feel about the matter?" Usually I find that I have the best luck around the ice-cream and tortilla chip isles of the grocery store. At those two locations I'll go right up to shoppers and tell them what the best brands are. Then they tell me what they like, and I patiently correct them. But that's usually one-on-one and very short lived. It doesn't solve the problem of the public events where typically people are together in small groups.

Oh well, maybe someday I'll figure out a solution and write a book on the matter. At least the evening wasn't a complete waste. I did get a nice loaf of bread out of it.

Two-for-One

Work has been a great place to make acquaintances, but as far as friendships go it's a bit more difficult. The problem is a lot of my co-workers are married with families and are a few years older than me. So it's not like we get together at night to play the latest video game, or go out to the bars. But like I said, it has been great for acquaintances and I do talk to several of the workers around the water cooler (yes we have the iconic water cooler which we all stand around). Yesterday, one of the workers who spends a lot of time at that cooler came by. She wanted to kill two hours and knew I could easily gab for that long. After about one hour of this another co-worker came along who wanted to speak with her. So she said I was off the hook. And I yelled at her that "I'm not just some object that can be used for awhile and then thrown out like the trash (we all know this is actually true but I like to pretend it's not)." She said, "You should be flattered that I wanted to talk with me for two hours in the first place." "Well I would be if you weren't married and moving to California on Saturday."

As all the students are moving in this week, she is moving out. That's okay though, because while I suppose I do like them hard to get, I find girls who are married and living on the other side of the country are a bit out of my reach.

Today she asked if I could take her to the airport so she could pick up a rental car because her's is being shipped out to California and she's flying there. The airport is really close so it wasn't a big deal. On the way we had to go through a residential section and I saw a couple walking three basset hounds. Oh my. She said she never saw me look so happy before. It reminded me of when I was a child in elementary school and the awards assembly we had twice a year or so to recognize scholastic achievement. For each grade a teacher or the principal would call up the students who got A's and B's and earned the merit roll, and those who got all A's and earned the honors roll. You then got to walk up, shake the principal's hand, get a piece of paper saying you made the merit or honor roll and a fancy colored pencil. Now even then I knew this was just a nice thing mostly for the parents enjoyment, but even still whenever I got called up I couldn't help smiling. And not wanting to seem proud I tried to keep a straight face. For some reason when I was 8 I associated smiling for an achievement to be gloating with pride. I don't know. Anyway, I couldn't do it. My body wanted to smile and I would end up grinning like the Cheshire cat everytime. This happened today when I saw those three basset hounds being walked. I just could not stop smiling. Even now as I type this I'm sitting here smiling just thinking about them.

When I got home tonight I wanted to walk around the pond. In the community I live, we have a section of town houses which are for the most part populated by newly budding families. So you have young couples who have a few children. If they didn't have the children they wouldn't be in the town house. And it can be amusing walking by because you get to watch all the neighborhood children running around playing with each other. I find it cute, and there's a huge racial diversity living her so it's nice to see all these different breeds (they're sorta like puppies) getting along. As I was walking by that section I heard a little girl crying and as I got closer I saw that she had fallen off her bicycle. Now I was on the phone with my balloon animal friend, but I decided I should probably go and make sure she wasn't going to die. Afterall, I had just come from Confession and didn't feel like going back for a sin of omission. So I go up there, and ask her if she's alright. My heart melted talking to her, because she's a sobbing mess as I approach, but to answer me I could tell she was trying to compose herself by sniffling back her tears and runny nose and as with a big a voice as she could muster she said "uh-huh". Not believing her, I then asked if she needed any help. She again choked back the tears and said her sister was getting her Dad. I said okay, and told her I was going to pick her bike up off the ground for her. That made me chuckle a bit. The bike was a wreck. The kickstand was completely broken, and the handlebars were bent. It reminded me of the many tremendous bike accidents I had as a kid. Then remembering those accidents, I looked to see if she was wearing a helmet. Of course she was because we baby kids nowadays. I stood with her for a minute and then saw her Dad come out. I waved and he waved back and I continued on with my walk. At that point she stopped trying to act all brave and started crying again, reached out her arms to be picked up, and started crying "Daddy, daddy." It was extremely cute.

One of my more memorable bike accidents was also the most recent one. I think it was my senior year of high school. My job was lawn mowing, and I typically mowed for realtors in the city I lived in because they paid well for my point of view and I charged less than the big landscaping companies. Plus I always did great work and they liked that. This time around I had gotten a call that there was a yard on my block which needed to be cut. I went over there with the lawn mower and found the grass was just too tall and it wouldn't be possible with my mower. In the process I did try to take a swipe at the grass, and wound up making a mess of things. So I took the mower back home and got a broom so I could sweep up the grassy mess I made on the little path going from the house's driveway to the front door. Now since the house was just down the street, I decided rather than driving down to it with the broom, I would just ride my bike there with the broom in hand. While riding there, I decided that this would be the perfect time to pretend I was the wicked witch from the West. I took the broom with both hands and angled it parallel with the ground so it looked like I was flying. And for a few seconds it worked wonderfully. Then the broom head dropped a bit and got caught in my back spokes. At this point I literally was flying. It was quite impressive I flipped over the handle bars, but my leg got caught in my bike chain. This caused the bike to fall on top of me. But I lived to tell the tale.

Surprise Singer

Today has been difficult to get any work done. Not only are we having a going away party (more on that later), but everyone seems to be going nuts about this surprise charity concert which may be cameoed by Faith Hill tomorrow. It's not so much that we are huge fans, she's alright I suppose, or are even planning on going to the concert. Instead we're really just jumping up and down out of pride that we were able to figure out that she is going to be here, because apparently this was supposed to be very hush-hush. In fact where I sit, my window is about 100 feet from where she is going to be singing.

Well that was all, I am really going to put in a good 5 minutes today.

Not on the Grocery List

When I got back from Charlottesville I found that I needed to stock up on a few essentials: bread, Mountain Dew, and ice-cream. The next day I went out to the grocery store to pick them up. While I was there I saw a girl who seemed to be pleasant. Thus, while I only needed three supplies, I wound up walking down all the isles taking my time to fully inspect all the products. After a little bit I summoned the courage to go talk to her.

Now this is a big deal. Despite the impression this blog may give, I am actually very shy but have a large mouth. I also have very little self-confidence around girls. You see, of the past five girls I've seriously wanted to ask out and start a relationship with, all five dropped me for another guy. Now you may say, well it's my fault for moving away or not asking quick enough. But I don't care what you have to say on the matter, and this is my blog so I will present things however I please, so for the purposes of this entry the past five out of five girls have dropped me for another guy. This last one was the worse, she did it twice! Anyway, my point is that I can have difficulties thinking anyone will take an interest in me so it can seem pointless to try in the first place. Afterall, if I were so interesting, then those five girls wouldn't have found that other guy so interesting.

So there I am with my little shopping cart of three items. In order to make a good impression I decided to get a few more things. Fortunately 'Life' cereal was on sale. That's one of my favorites but it is too expensive for me so I hardly ever get it. I also picked up some a couple boxes of a new brand of spaghetti noodle that hadn't been carried by the store before. With that more adult-looking cart I then proceeded to find her. It didn't take long because I accidentally walked right into her buggy as I was making a turn out of the isle. This was my opportunity but being an idiot I decided I wasn't quite ready and needed to summon a bit more courage.

When I find myself in these situations I try not to think about the situation. Instead I try to trick myself into thinking I'm really about to do something else. Unfortunately only my active conscious is a moron, my subconscious on the otherhand is a genius and knows exactly what I'm up to. As a result several things can happen. My heart beat might quicken. Generally I will always get a surge of adrenaline. Sometimes I will start to shake. And usually I won't think straight so everything I say comes out fragmented or off (like when I told that girl I was going to go eat some french fries).

This time was no different. I postitioned myself stragetically at the back of the store because I had seen that she would be heading where I was next. And sure enough, as I was pouring over the various yogurt flavors, she came around. I noticed that while the store was packed (I had never had to park so far away from the entrance before) when she came around everyone around us started to walk away, and I realized this was my chance if I didn't want to make a scene in front of everybody. I walked up and said "Excuse me." Thinking I was trying to get something she was blocking from my reach she moved on a bit. So I said it again "Excuse me." This time she turned to me and I said "Excuse me, I don't mean to be a creep but I just had to ask if you'd like to get dinner or a drink sometime." She laughed and said "I'm sorry, but I have a boyfriend." To which I replied, "Oh, that's okay. I'm going to go have a heart attack now. Cya." And I got out of there. In all it wasn't too bad. She was nice about it. That was the first time I had ever gone right up to a complete stranger. Always a first I suppose.

Someday I imagine I'll find someone who says yes. Maybe tonight will be the night. I have to head back out because this morning I ran out of milk. As I was typing this I got a phone call from one of my friends here in town. He wanted to let me know that today he asked his girl friend to marry him and she said yes. I'm so happy for him I could cry.

Out for a Cruise

The ride from here to home is dull. There is nothing to look at excepting the first half hour where you pass by a stream with an interesting hill side. Actually, one day I would like to go hiking out there. I've seen fisherman out there before which also adds to the effect. Other than that it's boring fields, construction sites and police. The ride from home to pretty much anywhere else on the other hand is quite entertaining. It's 5 hours from here to home and just under 6 from home to Charlottesville. But while that 5 hours feels like everybit of 5 hours, the 6 hours to Charlottesville feels like 30 minutes. First off you're going through the mountains, so every view is a photograph. There are occasions where you are so surrounded by them that you cannot see the sky without hurting your neck from the effort. The mountains really are incredible. Everynow and then the trees will part and give you breathtaking views. Here's a sample I took from the road

If you zoom in real close on the farm you can see the grape vines. Also on the way you pass through Charleston, West Virgina, which treats you with a view of the golden capitol dome. This is my attempt at taking a photo of it just for you guys. It's tricky aiming the camera out the window and not dropping it, while driving with your knees on the curvy highway during lunch hour traffic so I hope you enjoy it.

During the trip you will find the speed limit hits 70 mph. However, you will encounter patches where the speed limit is 60. At these times, these signs are not speed suggestions. Rather they are telling you, this is how fast you will be able to go. It's really quite impressive. Even taking these turns at the speed limit can be harrowing. The best though is when no one else is around and you can just drift from lane to lane. It's completely illegal but incredibly fun.

I had forgotten that West Virginia has that turnpike with its tolls. There are two of them that I had to go through, $2 each. I typically carry around little if any change, but during this trip God smiled on me and I had exactly $4 in my storage compartment. I have had problems with tolls in the past, and when I got to the first one I asked the attendant (they are not always manned) if they accept credit or debit cards. She said they only accept change. I still don't know what happens if you don't have change. Well, I do know what happens, but I'm talking about if there is an attendant on duty that you can talk to.

The drive home was long. I did not see the exit sign I needed to take, and was too busy singing along to realize I had missed the exit until it was too late. So I added about 40 minutes to my 6 hour trip and took the scenic route. The scenic route took me through the largest patch of Earth I would not want to live in. This town was bad. It was the kind that makes me wonder how it manages to survive, and that was during the good times. The citizens all looked hardened and worn. Many had the look of someone who has made exceptionally poor decisions early in life and is now paying the price for it. Sure the ambitious can get things back together but this was a dying town. It used to be a steel town, and was quite prosperous (that's why it's so large), but that steel mill has closed down and now there's nothing really left for these people. With the housing market the way it is they won't be moving out anytime soon, and it's unlikely they've got the savings in liquid form to just up and leave. Just one reason why the house you own is not an asset.

While the drive home was 40 minutes longer, it still felt like I had only been on the road for a couple hours. So I decided to press on back here. The last bit of the trip was boring as usual, but I had some help in the form of M.C. Hammer, the Roxettes, and a couple of phone calls. Coming back put the drive at around 12 hours. It's not the longest I've gone, but I was happy. Plus I didn't have to lose half a day of work.

Practically Cirque Du Soleil

This Friday you have plans. Jake is going to be on campus for the move-in celebrations at the Student Union performing his balloon animal talents (see Send in the Clowns). Now you are rightly concerned about missing the new episode of Monk. However, you are in luck because it ends at 8, and Jake goes on at midnight. So you have 4 hours to get here. We should make some requests for him to practice before hand. Because it's the summer time, I'd like something tropical like a fish or a parrot or maybe a frog.

An Outing Amongst Friends

Whew, today was a long day. It started around 7:30 in Charlottesville, Virgina, and has about come to an end with me back here in Cornfield, Illinois. While hopping into bed sounds lovlay, my sugar crash for the day hasn't quite hit yet and I thought you all must be dying for some attention.

Charlottesville is quite fantastic. It is home to the University of Virgina which just so happens to be where WAM is working on her Ph.D. For the past two years, WAM has come to visit me but this year she was too busy and I wasn't busy enough so we switched roles and I went to visit her. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, WAM is one of my childhood friends although we didn't really become friends until our 5 year high school reunion. It's kinda funny how things work like that. Anyway, she's sort of a big deal. She graduated with honors from Harvard and writes history books. I write books too but all my pages are filled with figures and equations which take up a lot of space. She actually fills up her pages with real words. Right now she's getting ready for a 4 month trip throughout the New England states to dig into some archives to basically write a history paper on historians prior to 1860. Answering things like how did the early Americans from England view the Indian mounds or maybe why they might choose to preserve an old building or document rather than others. Sort of like how we look at the Colosseum and think awesome, what did they find awesome, why, and what did they do out of reverence towards it.

WAM also has great taste. Her condo was exceptionally well decorated however it did have some issues. I felt there was a lack of femininity and toys. Other than that she has successfully managed to school pretty much everyone in the decorating department (aside from yours truly, the master, of course). Her choice in the condo also reveals much to her personality, as it is located within a short walking distance to the university, hospital, and downtown Charlottesville.

Let's start with the university. Thomas Jefferson (TJ) is your main man there although another 3 or 4 presidents were there too. Everyone there is infatuated with TJ to the point of slightly creepy. For us UIUC'ers compared to Jefferson, Lincoln is loved about as much as an unwanted stepchild. These guys just cannot get enough of him. The university itself is very nice. A lot of the buildings are very old but kept up-to-date on the insides. The entrance to engineering library (sweetly named Charlie Brown) was particularly eye-catching (see the censored version here). Charlottesville is also basically in the Appalachian mountains which means every view is a photo. No stupid boring flatness.

Downtown Charlottesville is also fairly fantastic. It's several blocks long with no road. Instead the road is layed in brick and it's covered in tables for wining and dining and vendors hawking their wares. The stores are great, and to my liking there are plenty of ice-cream and gelato joints. WAM felt having a milk-shake and gelato was a bit much but I was in heaven.

Charlottesville also has a lot of vineyards. We went to one where they have polo matches. The idea was to have a picnic out on the sidelines of the polo field while watching the match, but unfortunately it was too hot out for the horses. So instead we went further up into the mountains to Veritas Victory vineyard where we had a winetasting. We chose the white wine lineup which consisted of about 6 wines. They pour about a swallow's worth into your glass and you get to drink it down. Apparently you are not supposed to just swallow it all in one down. I tried to explain to WAM that men do not sip we drink like we do everything else with intensity. We all know I hate wine, but it was worth it because after all the nasties the last one as described "smells like roses and tastes like honey." It was amazing. Not surprisingly this was the dessert wine. This made me very excited to try that dessert wine I had mentioned earlier. Remember, I brought that dessert wine as a gift to WAM, but more on that in a second. After the wine tasting we had our picnic out on the hillside which had a stunning view of the grape vines and further on out the blue ridge mountain range.

The food was divine. Being in the south of course we had barbeque. So good. Last night I had what were probably the best porkchops in the world. Today's breakfast came from a bakery that was so good it would probably bring my Mom to tears. I brought her home (I stopped home on the way back) a couple selections and she was giddy with excitement. I do not like cheese or humus. Our picnic changed my mind. And finally last night it was time to open the dessert wine with our special dessert. I was extremely excited because before this trip I was highly skeptical that I was going to like the dessert wine, but after that wine tasting I knew it was going to be great. But sadness of sadness the wine had gone bad. The cork was moldy. WAM says this happens all the time with dessert wines, and that I can get a refund. Lame.

However, WAM's taste in movies is wanting. This is where her femininity comes in as we just had to watch '500 Days of Summer' on Saturday and 'He's Just Not That Into You' on Sunday. After hearing the first sentence of what 500 Days was about I told her this is a bad idea, but we watched it anyway on the idea that if I watched it with her then she would watch 'The Hangover' which was outstanding. 500 Days was about as bad as I expected it would be, because it hits so close to home, but I loved the dance scene he does walking down town (trying to be vague here to limit spoilers). Another highlight was a trailer for the movie 'Adam'. Sarge go watch that trailer, you will laugh. We did not get to see 'The Hangover'. It started too late, which is why we decided to watch 'Not That Into You', somehow this was a good balance. Again I wasn't exactly thrilled with this movie but it had its moments. See girls here's the thing. These are not happy movies. They are terribly depressing but they give you a minute or two of a comedic happy end and because you have no attention span, you completely forget that the entire movie was really about nothing but heartache fighting and tears. Anyway back to the trip.

We also went to a Catholic Mass for my benefit on Sunday. It was supposed to be the traditional one, but I had never been to a more untraditional Mass. For example the alter servers were not wearing robes. They were just dressed slightly nice. And they didn't ring the bells. The songs were odd, I only knew one. Now actually I didn't mind any of this because all I'm pretty much there for is the Eucharist; so as long as that doesn't get screwed up everythings fine by me. But having an outsider come with me, I expect that "traditional" Mass to be amazing. I want all those signs and symbols and music that add to the experience of it all to sort of show off a bit.

Now before you go start posting or get to thinking that WAM and I are the cutest couple you've ever known you're not the first (the first was a random butch middle-aged lady at a bar in Ohio) but are nevertheless completely wrong as the title indicates. So don't go getting any ideas. But just to show off our cute selves here's a couple good shots of us.

Potato Sticks

As I write this, I am eating the best fries in the world. Without question, fries do not get better than this. They are made at the club house. The reason I am eating these fries is because they are so fantastic and because I was trying to meet a girl.

Pulling into the community I saw that the girl's car was at the club house. I see it there from time to time and I resolved that the next time I saw it there I was going to go in and order a thing of fries to go. While the fries were being prepared my plan was to try and talk to the girl.

But of course things did not go according to plan. When I walked in she was no where in sight. I went and ordered my fries and then started walking around. First I checked out the racquet ball court and the pool. No luck. I went to the main party room but no luck there either. I guessed she must have been in the weight room working out. Of all the possibilities if what she could have been doing this was about the worst. It's one thing to go up to a person who is reading a book, watching TV, or just soaking in the sun at the pool. I could always say "Hi, I was going to get an order of fries would you like to join me." It's another to try and start talking to someone who is in the middle of a workout. But unperturbed I picked up my fries and went into the weight room with a new plan in mind.

My new idea was to act as though I was just checking out the equipment. And in fact I hadn't really given the place a good look around before (I don't need to exercise, I come fully loaded). I walked in and she gave me a happy hello. That's part of the reason why I was trying to talk to this girl. The only people who ever seem to want to talk to me are senior citizens. Anyway, I'm a little bashful in these types of situations so I said hello back but not quite as perky as I would have liked it to be. She was walking on a treadmill watching TV. I go and walk around with my fries in hand look around for awhile and then make to leave. I look back at her and see she is intently watching the screen. So I yell over to her "I'm going to eat some french fries now." She looks at me for a second, smiles and says "Kay", then puts her eyes right back on the screen. I felt like Kevin from 'The Office.' But it was supposed to be a joke. Here I am in a weight room, with her working out and I walk in take a look around and then say I'm going to go eat french fries. Okay, maybe it's not laugh out loud funny but I thought it was cute.

I've mentioned in the past how I tend to eat when I get emotionally distraught. Those fries didn't last too long.

Dessert Drink That Isn't a Shake

Today gets an extra post because I will not be posting on Friday - Monday and maybe Tuesday. The reason I will not be posting on those days is the reason why I had to get those shorts (see Hot Save from the Coals) and pick up a bottle of wine today.

Where I come from whenever you go to visit someone who is hosting an event like a party, or you are just going to be visiting for a day or two, you always bring a gift. This weekend I'm off to visit a friend and I needed a gift. Not having any really good ideas come to mind, I called up Mom asking her what she thought I should get as a gift. She knows my friend likes wine so she said to try an iced wine. Now my Mom hates alcohol more than me. It's not the drinking of it per se but the taste that she hates, so for her to recommend anything alcoholic must mean the drink is amazing. She said she couldn't taste the alcohol in it even though it is wine. Her description of it was "the berries are frozen and the bottle was thin". With that I went to the local wine store, Sunsinger.

Let me tell you about wine. It's made from grapes, tastes nothing like Juicy Juice, and it was used in Jesus' greatest miracle which was when he made it taste good at the wedding. That was the extent of my knowledge before going to Sunsinger today. I'm pretty good at looking clueless and right away a lady came up to help me. And she told me all about iced wine.

Iced wine is made from white grapes. You cannot call it iced wine if it's not made with white grapes. So sometimes you'll hear of frozen wine which is made from red grapes. Her seriousness about this point was amusing. Like blood was going to be spilt if we should not name it according to the rules. The white grapes in iced wine were picked from the vine when they were frozen. This makes the iced wine more expensive than most because there is a risk involved. The grape grower could potentially lose his crop because the grapes may spoil before it gets cold enough for them to freeze. So there are two other varieties (whose names I cannot pronounce) that use white grapes that are only partially frozen. I was thinking like how a grape would be after a frost. These other two varieties can be less expensive. At this point I asked if there was any difference in the taste. She said not really, but the texture is different. For the partially frozen grape wines, the texture is similar to whole milk. It sort of feels like a coating in your mouth. The texture for the iced wine is like skim milk and is "much more delicate" (wine lovers are great with fancy adjectives). Iced wines are categorized as dessert wines. This would explain why my Mom liked it so much.

The best iced wine comes from Germany, but they also carried bottles from Austria, Canada, France and Italy. I found the prices ranged from about $20 to about $130 for what I considered to be a very small bottle. And Mom was right, most of the bottles were very thin. They had two from Germany, a $23 and a $99. So I picked up the $23 bottle. At the checkout line I asked the lady what am I supposed to eat with this wine to bring out the taste. Specifically I asked what flavor of ice-cream would be best. She said oh no, you shouldn't eat ice-cream with this. Ice-cream will make your mouth too cold and then you won't be able to taste the wine properly. Instead you should eat pastries, or cake. After my frown I think for my benefit she said I could even eat chocolate cake if I wanted. That made me happier.

I'm curious to find how it's going to taste. But in any event I'm still quite happy with my Mott's.

We All Need to Vent

As I was driving home from work today I approached one of those large big family vans that have two or three rows of seats. From the left rearview mirror I could see the driver and I saw that he was shouting. Intrigued I drove a little faster to catch up to him, but by then he had stopped. But then out of the blue he started back up again. I drove a bit in front of him to see if there were any passengers, but if there were they had to be in the back seats because I could see none through his windshield. Then I slowed down a bit to let him catch back up. By now he had stopped again. But when he caught back up for a couple of seconds he started the shouting again. My windows were down but I couldn't make out anything he was saying. It all sounded like incoherent yelling. I also couldn't figure out what would be causing him to shout like that. He wasn't driving fast and wasn't stuck at a light so I don't think he was in any particular rush. I couldn't see anyone in the van with him. And the van, while it was a clunker, was getting him from A to B so it wasn't like he was shouting at the van as though he were trying to will it to drive on. I wonder if he has tourette's syndrome. I've never known someone to have it before, I've only seen that guy on youtube and it was sort of like that. This guy would just be sitting there driving along and then all of a sudden start shouting something unintelligible as hard as he could, all the while keeping his face looking straight ahead as though he were yelling at the window. Then he would stop again. It was a pretty amazing sight, but I felt really bad for him. Here it's a beautiful sunshine day and he's screaming bloody murder at seemingly random intervals. Something must have been really bugging him.

A Hot Saving from the Coals

This coming weekend I am going to be out of town. And then I will be out town again in mid-September. In preparation for these trips I need some new clothes. Need is a funny word. I need the clothes as in the powers that be tell me I need the clothes. And since I don't mind shopping I'm not going to make a huge stink about it. What is frustrating is that whenever I go out dressed up, everyone complains that I always wear the same thing. Let's look at my main summer situation, I own 2 nice slacks, 2 nice jeans, 4 nice shirts, 3 nice belts, and 2 pairs of shoes. As far as I'm concerned that's 512 potential outfits, so I get very confused when people say I always wear the same thing. For this upcoming weekend I was told I need a nice pair of shorts.

That one I can't really argue about. I haven't been wearing shorts this summer. I decided to go European and instead wear my slacks whenever I go out. This even includes when I'm outside for long periods of time such as walking around the pond or sitting out on the patio at the club house for lunch. But it's not that bad. The slacks are made for the summer so the material is thin and they're about as cool as shorts. Anyway, my point is that I have no shorts. All of mine are years old, and are meant for getting dirty. So I started looking. First I went to Lacoste online. Their shorts are $120. That's a touch ridiculous. But they were on sale for $75 off putting them around $45. Hey, that's not so bad. But I decided to see what all was at the mall here in town.

Very quickly I found there was next to nothing. Every place is trying to bring out their autumn lines, and what shorts are available are cargo shorts for highschoolers. Getting desperate, I even broke all my rules and tried looking in American Eagle and Abercrombie. It had been a few years and I thought maybe they had improved their image a bit. Nope, I got disgusted and walked out with a larger than usual scowl. I finally found a good pair at Banana Republic but they were not on sale at $45. For that price I figured I could get the Lacoste pair but I bought the pair anyway as a 'just in case I can't find another pair' backup.

Leaving the mall I went to Kohl's. Kohl's is in a perpetual state of going out of business. Whenever I go in it seems the whole store is 70% off. Kohl's did have a nice pair of shorts that I wanted. But they were $36 and not on sale. This was offputting, that the one item I find is the only item in the store not on sale. I put them back and figured I'll just come back in two days because by then they'll be on sale. And sure enough the next day (yesterday) in the mail I got a $10 off any purchase card. So I went in today picked up a pair and went to the register. The lady said I owed $18. And I said she must be mistaken they are $36 (I hadn't given her the card yet). She said they were on sale for 50% off, they just weren't marked. Wow! In the end I paid $8 for those shorts, and they're pretty nice looking.

Okay, all of that was pretty useless information. But I needed a prelude to the blogs I will be posting the rest of this week and next, and this was the best place I could find to start.

Me 25 Years From Now

Gracious. Tonight I decided to take a break and watch a movie on TV. Even though I've seen it before, On Demand had Roadhouse for free in HD and that intrigued me. So I flipped it on, made a frozen pizza, ate half of it, had two huge glasses of orange juice, and then, because the movie is about bars afterall, poured myself an adult beverage. I basically took lots of Grenadine (cherry syrup), ice, a splash of rum and put it in a cup. I was fine sitting there, but when I got up I found I must have poured more than a splash. I was very dizzy. Alcohol for me is like sleeping medicine. Just a swallow is enough to make me want to crash. This is why I hardly ever drink it. Generally, from the moment I spring out of bed until finally late at night when I crash dead, I run on a sugar high all day long. Alcohol brings that crash, and I hate the feeling other than when it's time for bed, and right now it's not time for bed. And clearly I have no tolerance for it, considering how much I had ate for dinner. But despite having a very difficult time keeping my eyes open at the moment, I have something I want to talk about tonight.

Privacy landscaping is an artform. There are all sorts of mediums people will use to create a sense of privacy around their homes. For example, the less inspired may put up a picket fence. I do not like the white picket fence look to create privacy. When the fence comes up about elbow height it's fine, because then it's decoration, but much taller than that and I don't like it. It's not so much the fence itself I dislike as it is what comes with it. White picket fences have to be maintained if they are going to look right. You have to edge the grass around them, which leaves grass stains, and you have to paint them. Both of these actions, edging and painting I hate. Those are the two chores I cannot stand. I will do anything with a smile before those two things. And the problem is, that they are necessary if you're going to have a half way decent looking picket fence. From my experience families do not properly maintain their fences and as a result they look bad. If they would take the time to care for them properly, then I do like the look.

When it comes to privacy I prefer natural plants. For example, one type of barrier I've seen is created by bamboo. I've seen houses that will have bamboo walls marking the boundaries of their lawns. Bamboo is cool because it's exotic. But the problem with it is that it is a grass and as such it will grow everywhere. So before you plant it, you have to make sure you put it in some type of containment otherwise it will take over your lawn. My friend back home planted two shoots in his backyard on the hill side. Now that hill side has a few thousand shoots. And it's not like you can lawn mow a bamboo forest. Another cool type of privacy barrier is pampus grass. I just like the look of the stuff. Its problem is that it is seasonal. So are trees, but with trees the leaves fall for you, while the pampus grass just stays there. This requires you to have to cut it down each year in the fall, and then wait for it to grow back to full height in the spring.

Back home in Chilli-bobo-land, my family has large shrub that prevents the neighbors next door from seeing our patio where we may want to eat out at night. It's a nice shrub that produces large flowers, and is fairly easily to maintain. All you have to do is trim it about twice a year. Trimming I do not mind, but this shrub has grown into a monster. It grows very quickly, so you really do need to trim it twice a year, and it's tall so you have to get a ladder out. This wouldn't be so bad, but the shrub is a bit wide. Consequently to get all of the top you have to perch near the top of that ladder, and reach out blindly with the electric trimmer. It really helps your prayer life, because this whole while you are begging God not to let you or the ladder fall and plunge into that eletric trimmer. The shrub also is covered in pollen. When you start to trim that pollen fills the air so thick its dazzling. It gets in your eyes, lungs and on your skin. And then when you sweat it burns. I was just home last weekend and while I was cutting the backyard, I saw that Dad had increased the sodline around it. Why he did this I'll never know because now it's only going to get wider making it ever the more difficult to get the whole top of it trimmed.

Today he trimmed it, and below is a snapshot my Mom took of him. You can tell by his smile that he is a sick sick man.

You may be wondering why he is wearing a winter hat. When I first saw these photos I thought that maybe he lost all of his ball caps. You see, he is a bit bald on top and the sun will burn his head so he needs to wear something. But then I remembered he has more than one of these caps and it's not like he could have lost them all. So I asked him, "Dad, why are you wearing a winter hat in these pictures?" To which he replied, "I was pretending I was in the hood." Sigh, say hello to future me.

Number 5

When I woke up this morning and saw that red sunrise I thought "Red sky at morn sailors take warn." And sure enough, it's gloomy and raining out. Although I can see from my window here that the ducks are loving it. I can even hear them quaking. And I suppose this weather is nice and appropriate for today's topic which is my final piece on the sorrowful mysteries.

I'm not entirely sure why I decided to write on these other than that I do think on them quite a bit. Also, the closing of the School of Theology earlier this year sort of destroyed my outlet. So far the only thing I've heard about these is that they are not well received. But no matter, I like them and this is my blog.

The 5th sorrowful mystery is the Crucifixion. I'm not a big fan of this one. Typically I have each decade of the rosary devoted towards a special intention. For example, Mom and Dad get the second decade. Well the fifth I save for my most worldly material concerns, which touches on things I probably shouldn't be wasting a whole decade on. So here I am praying for a hot girl friend or something like that, while meditating on Jesus hanging on the Cross which is partially on account of my own actions. To make it worse, I'm praying to His Mom who had was there watching it all.

I remember one year when I was little, being in Odyssey of the Mind. When I was little I was hardly well behaved (not that I am now), and this one night I was a bit rowdier than usual. Dad was pretty furious at me, and even though I knew it was a long shot on the way home I asked if we were going to stop for ice-cream. I did not get ice-cream that night. I guess I haven't changed much. Even though I'm still as bad as ever I'm still asking the very people I've offended to give me what I want. My hope is that Jesus isn't quite so stern as Dad, and since hope is the second greatest virtue I figure praying for that hot girl friend is actually sanctifying because I give that virtue such a good workout.

Even though it's been completely ruined by TV Evangelicals, and Kumbaya-lovers, 'I have decided to follow Jesus' is actually not all that bad. As kids we used to sing it all the time at school Masses. Now it gets no air time, except when it's being ruined. Anyway, I find the second verse to be a great mantra when I find myself in prickly situations, "The Cross before me, the world behind me." At Easter Mass this year, the priest, an African African, sang it with his great accent solo style during his homily. He even was doing some hand motions. It was all disgustingly cute, but the message wasn't lost on anyone. And it has a good point.

There you have it. Fantastically, the rain has stopped and there's some sunshine coming through. So I have to go now. I don't yet know if I'll have a good lighter topic to post on tomorrow or not, but I'll try to think of something.

Timeless Question Answered

Alright, I am finally ready (see Ticklin' the Ivories), on this Tasteful Thursday, to present my findings on a topic I have been researching for awhile now. This research spanned several shops, long night internet searches, and personal interviews with family members and co-workers. I even put off working on my other projects just so that I could finish up my studies and get to you my critical analysis on today's subject: underwear.

I do not shop for underwear often. In my adult life I believe I have only gone out and bought a pair once. There is a twofold reason for this. First I usually get them at different times in the year from my Mom who seems to know when its time to get these things and she just throws me a package and says here you go. It's sort of like how she just seems to always know when I need a haircut. The second reason is simply because it's not like I've got anyone else in my life who is going to be seeing it. So long as that elastic band is still functioning, I see little reason to throw it out. But this Christmas Mom was not on the ball, and while my elastic still works I thought it might be time for some new pairs anyway.

So a few weeks ago I went to the mall and started looking around. First I went to nicer shops (nicer for Podunk, Illinois) and saw the prices were quite high. Then I went into the department stores and saw that they too were a little high. We're talking $20 for a three pack. Now while that won't break the bank, I decided to come back home and do some research on the matter. There are so many choices and styles it's difficult to get a grasp of it all from one visit to the mall.

For this blog we will concentrate on the three main types, briefs, boxers and boxer briefs. Let's start with boxer briefs. Boxer briefs are stupid. They look like bike shorts. There's a reason why bike shorts aren't work as regular clothes. It's because they look ridiculous. I cannot imagine why someone would wear them, but apparently they are all the rage nowadays and I hear even the ladies like them. As a result of the increased demand, this ugly clothing line is priced higher. I'm so sick and tired of our wishy-washy culture. Take a stand people, it's either boxers or briefs. There is no middle ground. People who wear boxer briefs are not stylish they're cowards.

Next up are boxers. Boxers also generally look stupid, but for some reason it's like a boys entrance into manhood when he throws out the briefs and slaps on the boxers. For people with little stock or no backend I can understand why boxers would be preferred. They hide a lot. But it's sort of like a scrawny guy wearing a large shirt to look bigger. He really isn't fooling anybody. But there are plenty of practical reasons why boxers are not the best choice. First off because they don't hug the skin as briefs do, they tend to ride up the legs or cause wedgies. For people who sit at a desk all day the ride up effect becomes very noticeable. The next problem with boxers is the issue caused by dangling. Girls you may not realize this, but guys almost always have a few driblets left after they use the bathroom. We certainly don't wipe and have to shake too vigorously to get rid of it all. As a result, underwear can help catch these spare droplets. But for people who wear boxers, there's a very real problem that those droplets won't get caught by the boxers because they don't hug the skin. Consequently those drips can start running down your leg. This is disgusting. Another problem with boxers is that they offer no support or concealment. If you've haven't got enough weight to require support I suppose it's fine. But I gotta tell you that I dislike not having it so much that I even wear my briefs to bed at night. Having your parts just flap around all willy-nilly is no fun. Girls this is similar to why you wear sports bras. The concealment issue with boxers is that they do not conceal excitement very well. Again girls, you may think this shouldn't be an issue but sometimes things can happen involuntarily, such as at inopportune moments like during Mass or when hugging people.

So for me briefs are the way to go. First they just look good. If you have the body always wear briefs. You would never see a bodybuilder wearing boxers. But if you don't have the body go with boxers. Looking bad in boxers is still passable. Looking bad in briefs will cause permanent damage. In general you want to be able to fill or at least make an impression on both the front and back of the briefs. Next up, briefs do not ride up and they tend not wedgie.

When picking briefs there are many things to consider. First off you get what you pay for. Briefs are just like clothes. If you get a ten pack for a dollar you're going to have a bit of a situation on your hands. I think a lot of people think that a shirt is a shirt. This is just not true. There are reasons why some shirts cost $8 and others cost $100. The material and construction make noticeable differences in both the feel and look. Now I'm not about to justify buying a $100 t-shirt, but my point is there is a noticeable difference and to some that luxury may be worth the extra cost. With underwear the best I've found also happens to be the most expensive. It's made by Zimmerli over in Switzerland. Unfortunately their briefs go for between $40 and $60. That's a bit much. Coincidentally Ben Silver, which is a clothing store I like over in Charleston, SC on Kings Street, sells this brand.

Since I'm not entirely made of money, I have to resort to the regular department stores. Yesterday I bought a brand of 2xist. 2xist has gotten very good reviews, and is very affordable. A two pack cost me $8. I tried it on at home and found that while the material was very nice, the opening around my legs was a bit too tight. People at work today said I shouldn't take them back since I tried them on, but Mom said it was perfectly fine and she was right, or at least the store took them back. I think for now I'm going to stick with either BVD or Stafford. They're comfortable, look alright, and are affordable. I'd still like to someday get one of the fancier brands, but living in the middle of nowhere makes that difficult.

There is still so much to say on this subject, but I think I have given you a good start in the right direction. In general I find that no matter what the condition or style you wear, ultimately what really matters is that you at least keep them clean. Like your Mom told you growing up, don't get caught wearing stained drawers.

50 Year Wait

My subconscious is an idiot. The whole point of repressing memories is because I don't want to think about them. Which means I don't want to dream about them either. But last night my head decided it would be a great idea. At first the dream was one of my more unique ones, so even though I knew I was walking into iffy territory I wanted to see where it was going to go, but soon enough it started getting all self-reflective on me and after a short awhile I had quite enough of it and decided to wake myself up. This was at 3:00 and I was all happy because I knew I still had another 3 hours of sleep left. I quickly fell back to sleep, had some delightful dreams about being James Bond shooting the bad guys and getting the girl (not making that up), and then bright and early I was up and about. The problem was that stupid dream from 3:00 wasn't out of my head and it put me in a funk for the rest of the day, which is now how you are finding me.

But that's not what I want to talk about. I hate hearing about other people's dreams unless I'm in them and I doubt you want to hear about mine. What I want to talk about is what happened to me while I was typing up my post from last Thursday (see Ticklin' the Ivories). While I was typing it up here in my room I happened to look outside and saw a lady jogging around the pond. I was about 80% sure she was a married lady I've seen hanging around the club house, but because she's a bit of a socialite around there I thought she'd be a good person to get to know. So I stopped my typing, ran outside, and started walking in the opposite direction of her. I walked in the opposite direction because the path loops around the lake so sooner or later I was bound to bump into her unless she happened to stop earlier on. And as planned I did pass her by three times. These three times she was with her husband, but they both said Hi, and she said it like she was greeting an old friend. So that was good because now I am a little more familiar to them when I see them around the club house and maybe they'll introduce themselves and I can meet new people.

As I was walking around I saw an old man with a broom knocking off the spiderwebs that had collected around his patio. I decided to stop and talk to him, and started the conversation by complaining to him about how when I do that, 3 floors up no less (spiders shouldn't climb so high), the spider webs are back in a day, so it's like why should I even bother. And then the conversation started.

His name is Joe, and the first thing he wanted to know was my name, age, occupation, duration of my living here, and if I was married. He then called out his wife to meet me because his memory isn't so good anymore and he didn't want to completely forget my name so he had his wife remember it for him. He told me that he has a PhD and 48 patents, but that lately his brains have been failing him, although his memory is still keen. Then he proceeded to tell me that he was born in 1930, in Checkoslovakia, just as the Great Depression was starting to get underway. He was going to school when World War 2 broke out, and his father sent the family to England which he thought was safer, although the father staid back in order to keep working. In England (I think. It was hard to keep all the details straight and understand him) he learned 5 years of German, 4 years of Latin, and 3 years of French. He also picked up Russian, and of course he could speak Slovak. Then after the war he moved to the United States. He said it only took him 3 weeks to learn English, since English is 60% German and 40% Latin. While he was here he entered High School.

In High School, Joe met a girl and they got very close. But after High School she went to South Carolina for college and he to New York for college. She met a guy, they got very friendly, and married. And later Joe met a girl and got married. He had 6 children, although one has died. About 12 years ago or so, he and his wife decided to go visit their old highschools. When he got to his, Joe asked if anyone had seen or heard from Ann, his old High School friend. Conincidentally, one of the workers had. Ann had been there five years earlier and alone, her husband had died. Joe was sad for her, but decided not to contact her because he was now married and didn't think it would be appropriate calling up an old girl friend like that. About a year later, Joe's wife died. They had been married for 48 years. At the time he was flying airplanes, shipping goods from one location to another, but he found that when he would get home in the evening he got lonely. So he decided to call up the High School to see if Ann had left any contact information. She had, and he called her up. They talked for two weeks, and decided to meet up. And very quickly they decided to marry. That was in 2001 and he was about 71, and they're still together today, happy as can be.

And that is Joe. He gave me a little slip of paper with his and his wife's name, address, phone number, and e-mail (it's awesome he uses e-mail) and then asked me for mine. I get the impression he's going to try and hook me up with someone. I asked if he was Catholic because of the Latin and that he was thinking of going to a Catholic college with all guys and he said he very much is. He asked if I am, and seemed to get a kick out the fact that I am.

I haven't heard from him yet, but I'm sure I'll see him around. After we finished talking, I finished my loop around the lake (the joggers had long since stopped) and finished my blog entry for the day.

Uh-oh

It's been a few posts now since I've had a funny, so I thought I'd share with you one of the stories my friends and I were reminiscing on at the bar (see Watering Hole). Back when we were in the fourth or fifth grade one of my friends had a sleep over. This friend of mine has two younger brothers. The middle is Mike. Let's meet Mike. Mike reminds me of Ralph from the Simpsons. He's not too bright but terribly kind, and had a rather high pitched voice despite his great size. Now at the time Mike was probably in the first or second grade. And at that time Mike loved Spaghetti-Ohs. It was his favorite and he would eat massive helpings. But on the particular night of the sleep over there were no Spaghetti-Ohs to be found. I mean they were out, not a can anywhere. Nothing. And for whatever the reason, the parents happened to be away. So Mike, desperate with no where to turn, went to the only place he knew he could for help. . .

Lately I have seen a lot of articles in the news about young children or even babies calling 911, but I have not yet heard of a case quite so moving as the case of the young boy who ran out of Spaghetti-Ohs.

Never Are the Times So Sweet

The family reunion was easily the best time I've had since early January. I love getting to see everybody, but other than the reunion I very rarely get to. The reunion is my Dad's Mom's family reunion. She had twelve other siblings. You'd think this would mean we'd have a huge reunion but it's typically pretty small.

This year one of my two older cousins came in from California. I haven't gotten to see him in years. The last time he was in was around Christmas about 6 years ago. But I couldn't go visit because I was stuck here taking a Quantum Physics exam during the last available final exam slot, from 7 - 10 pm on a Saturday. For the past several years he has been spending his time surfing. He fell in love with the sport and ever since has been working just long enough each day to pay his bills. Every other moment is spent out on his board. He takes trips to. Like he'll go over to South America or some other place with a beach and travel up the coast. He'll meet other surfers out there and spend his nights at their place. If he doesn't meet anyone he sleeps on the beach. Now that he's getting older he's settling down and working on becoming a registered nurse. He's completed his first year of school and has two more to go. The guy is incredibly bright, when he finished up his undergraduate studies in Biology (I think it was) one of his professors invited him out to the Galapagos to do a research project. He turned it down though. I remember when I was a really little kid and he was a teenager, he used to always wear baseball caps. And I would always try to steal it off his head. I have no idea why I did this, but I was also a very annoying kid.

I always wanted to have more siblings which is why I think I love my family reunions so much because my cousins are the closest I've got. I have 5 cousins on my Dad's side and 4 on my Mom's side. Of them all, I am the third eldest.

Another interesting family member is one of my Uncles. He married my Dad's older sister. Although he is old enough to probably be her Dad. I think they are probably close to 15 years apart if not more. He's close to his 80s now. Right now he's pretty much retired but he still does lawn care as a side job. He's got over 300 yards that he fertilizes with one of those old push fertilizers that you walk around with and it shoots out the fertilizer. So for being close to 80 that's really good. But you wouldn't believe his age if you saw him. He doesn't look a day over 60. The only thing that ages him is his hair which, while full, is quite gray.

Like all families, ours has our share of problems. But we don't address them. The common position our family takes on difficult times is to bottle it up and then let it explode behind closed doors. It was interesting to see all the subtle signs of various members trying to keep their cool when some of the touchy subject matters were brought up. And my own immediate family is no exception. I think that overall we're pretty close, and that as the older generation gets even older and starts needing a bit more attention it will help bring us all even closer together. I also think that is one of the benefits of having a large family. I think large families have a better chance of staying together versus the small ones.

While my family is not very large, these few hour reunions never seem to be nearly long enough. Oh well, maybe some of my cousins will start getting hitched and then we can all meet up again at the wedding. I'm a hopeless wonder in that department, but a few of my cousins seem to be getting along much better. In fact one is engaged but the wedding isn't until next October.

Attached is the latest picture of me and my cousins. It's not quite complete, we are missing my other cousin who is in California, but it's been a long time since this many of us have been together. The last time I think we had one of these taken, I was still being cute and parting my hair on the side.

Fig.1) Me, Carrie, Kent (Carrie's boo), Jacklyn, Joe, Brittany, Daryl

Watering Hole

Global Warming is the best. I am completely for not stopping whatever it is we are doing to the atmosphere. And no I don't have any care for the polar bears. If they were cute and cuddly that would be one thing, but they wouldn't think twice about eating your face. As far as I'm concerned they can evolve or go away, but either way I don't really care so long as this beautiful weather stays. In fact the only thing keeping me from going out and burning styrofoam right now is that I have too much to say.

As you hopefully know (see Homebound if you don't know), I went home this weekend for my family reunion. And on Friday night I met up with one of my old childhood friends. We ended up going to Crosskeys. Crosskeys is one of the local bars whose manager and main bartender is also a friend of ours. Crosskeys is a bar for people who are not looking for a good time. You do not go to Crosskeys to pick up girls, dance or be a socialite. It's the type of place you dress down for, like unwashed dirty Blair's Farm and Fleet is fine. But that's also why I like this bar. No one is trying to make an impression on anyone.

My friend and I go up to the counter, order our drinks and start talking with the bartender. Not having seen these guys in about a year I want the local news. For the most part little has changed. The biggest news is that the Department of Energy (DOE) is pulling back on their guarantee of a $2Bil loan to the atomic plant over in Piketon. The plant needs it to secure the loans from the banks. The money is for building a major expansion to the plant. But since the guarantee isn't happening, it's likely several hundred people (across multiple states) will be out of work. The news is so bad that the CEO told the employees in an e-mail that 'Europe' called him up asking how our government could be so stupid. The effects of DOE's decision not to guarantee the loan will be felt throughout the world. For example the price of uranium is likely to sky rocket, making atomic power costly and potentially more dangerous as countries have to look elsewhere for their uranium needs (we supply uranium to other countries).

In other news a lot of my old friends are still literally smoking their lives away. I come from a very talented class. People say I'm smart, but whatever brains I have are solely from my working my butt off. Many of my friends are naturally brillant. Things just click for them. And a lot of them are now doctors, lawyers, engineers, scientists, historians, and artists. Ours was a talented class. So it breaks my heart when I hear that even one of my friends is still heavily involved in drugs. And it's not just one, it's many. These guys peaked at highschool. And what gets me even madder is that my other friends, who see these guys all the time, never do anything about it. I ask my friend if he ever tells them to stop and he says "Naw man, I don't get involved." That's just bad friendship right there.

At one point in the night, three blondes came in who were about our age but we never saw before. The bartender got them their drinks and they went to a table. A little while later two of Chillicothe's finest came in got some drinks and sat at an adjacent table. Soon the girls started talking to the guys. They initiated the conversation. Then one of the guys walks up to the counter, shouts to the girls to ask what they want, he gets the drinks and then the two guys go and sit with the girls. And I was flabbergasted (first time I've used that word in a sentence). I couldn't figure out why those girls would talk to those two guys before talking to me and my friend. Something was more attractive about those guys than my friend and I. I asked my friend and the bartender and they both didn't have any answers.

Well that was Friday night. Tomorrow I'll introduce you to my family.