Post High-School Musical

This post is inspired by Lisa Alton to whom I dedicate the contents.

A night of firsts.
First time ever playing a game of Twister, playing Mahjong for real (sorry Chuck, it's just not the same when we're both playing for two), talking for more than five seconds about 'A High-School Musical'. Obviously, a big night.

Now, another first - burning CDs to my computer to put them on my fodPod.

... I can't seem to get enough of these albums:
David Bazan - Fewer Moving Parts
Haste the Day - when everything falls
Radiohead - OK Computer
MewithoutYou - Catch For Us the Foxes
Weezer - Blue Album
Clutch - Blast Tyrant
There's rarely a car-trip without one of those.

Credit to Melissa for introducing me to the smokey-voiced excellence of Miss Millan.


This seems to be a musical post so I'll tell you that I listened to Amy Millan, Delirious (Mission Bell), and Billy Talent (self-titled) today. I may be among the few who enjoy Ben's vocals on their debut effort.

I have great friends. If this was MySpace I would give you all a hundred kudos, but it's not, so I'll mention that I got a haircut today and expect that all you loved souls out there will read between the lines.

Dare I hope?

Tears of joy. Okay, that's a bit melodramatic. But, oh sweet end! I thought you were more distant.
This semester was overwhelming at points.

This degree is dense like Guinness in more ways than one, and I have learned the importance of true devotion to studies.

If I coddled Augustine and savoured Luke, if I wed Anselm and digested Yeago, I would be better for it. At moments, I read merely to apprehend, not to understand I will not do this again in the new year. I worked hard, but not quite hard enough. I have to quit thinking that I deserve these frequent and drawn-out breaks from reading and working on essays. (I think I am beginning to understand why so many T.A.'s and profs have glasses.) Although, everyone has A.D.D. - just to varying degrees.

A highlight of this past semester was the feedback from submitting one of my songs as a graded assignment for a 'History of Christianity' course. Beautiful choirs make my heart feel as though it's expanding – positive feedback makes my shoulders feel broader.

To dream is to doubt.

Almost Done

So close to the end, and so very brain dead. I go back to page one to make sure that everything's in order and I realize that oim reedin' over me'payper in a fookin' Oirish acceunt. What th'fook!

At 2:30am...

...I feel like I am in some apocalyptic movie where the death of humanity occurs, unbeknownst to me. I sit in my room, above the vacant streets, hammering away at an essay that I do not need to hand in. My professor has been swept away along with the rest of the mortals. Then the fear sets in ... why am I still here? Maybe it is better to think that I have an essay to hand in tomorrow.

Celebrity

Ah yes. There's nothing like a semi-formed idea to kick-start a conversation, or incite a riot. 

Here's one:

I know that Brittany Spears has not been wearing underwear this past week and that Lindsey Lohan is attending A.A. meetings. I am aware that Tom Cruise wore a girdle to his wedding, that Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock broke up, and that Danny DeVito was drunk on The View. 

It's weird that I know more about these people than I do about my neighbours. The media invites people into my home that I don't necessarily want to meet, while two doors down, my neighbour – a potential friend, becomes acquainted with the same familiar strangers and their exploited faults.

I wave from across the street, I stop to say hello, I help with yard-work, because I wish I could do more. I wish I could build community and forget that I am inconvenienced by adding the needs of others to my own; the complexity of colliding agendas. I don't invite my neighbour in because "I'm sure he has more important things to do", and secretly, I'm glad for the excuse not to inconvenience myself.

But really, life is measured in the connections with the true essence of people; their souls I guess. That's something I enjoy, authentic meeting with genuine people. As this partial-idea fizzles out I'll attempt a stab at a summative statement. 

There's an expression, something to the effect of 'I went outside to find a friend, but could not find one there. I went outside to be a friend, and friends were everywhere.' 

If you're looking for me, I'll be outside. I'll be genuine.

detached

Isolated, I am segregate.
Alone, I am exacerbate.
Cut-off, I am dissociate.
Without, I sublimate.

Letter to Eleanor

Java

Walking - then running, my nose kept me up all night. At 6am I realized that I had three hours left to get some sleep. I fumbled through the medicine cabinet and the half-eyed urgency of the moment didn't care if the Dristan was drowsy or non-. It was drowzshey. And waking up was very, very hard.

Bus,
Subway,
One tutorial,
One 'Theological Inquiry' class,
Lunch (Grilled Cheese and much ketchup),
Another tutorial,
"Dave, I can get you free coffee ... it's free."
"I don't drink coffee. Won't the two drugs will fight inside me?"
"It's free ... double-double?"
"Okay. Thanks man."

The second cup of coffee I've ever had burned my tongue, just like the first one. And then the drugs fought. The world suffered a constant and almost imperceptible tremor. I looked at my hands to see if they were shaking, but I think my eyes were shaking too.

The Nord Experience

water tracking - day 6
Originally uploaded by alchemyindex.

Thanks to Jeff, I got to tool around with the nord Electro2 this weekend. Such an incredible realism to the sounds - someday my dreams and my finances will become friends, maybe even go out for drinks once in a while. It's nice to see that somebody else appreciates the sweetness that these magical red boxes can bring.

This weekend was amazing. The worship sessions on Saturday night and Sunday morning were incredible. In a room filled with singing/shouting high-school kids and a very obvious presence of God - it was an experience, a clarity of the heart, that I won't soon forget.

Plus, I got to hang out with Chuck and Crofty and eat as many Taco Bell tacos as I could handle. Then - to Wendy's for a few more eats that should have dramatically altered the composition of my fecal matter. I guess my iron stomach ignores the composition of even the worst - grade 'F' meat.

Just add water.

Do you know that kind of sweet ache that comes when you think you're in love and she doesn't know? It rests somewhere between your heart and stomach and it begins to expand when she even looks in your direction. When she sends you a note, the feeling moves up and pushes your mouth into a stupid grin that you can't get rid of. That is, until you over-analyze it enough to write a blog about.

It sucks, but I know that any suave goodness that I have gets paralyzed when I'm convinced that I genuinely like the gal. It has gotten better with time. The every-dayness of relationships (and potential relationships) has blunted the exaggerration of un-suaveness, but the whole 'I don't care = relaxed = she loves me' vs. 'I adore her = nervous = she thinks I'm a big nerd' problem seems to keep cropping up with every new possibility. Perhaps this is the point in my life where I finally have things together enough to grow a relationship au naturel.

I'll simply let the organic experience unfold. Yes, while my heart beats visibly through my shirt.

My Room's Cold

cruising
Originally uploaded by bviapiana.

Thailand, on the other hand, is very warm.
Every so often, I return there in my mind. It's soothing.

I really have nothing to write. I should be in bed. It's 3am and I have a paper to write tomorrow in addition to the weekly assignments I will tackle with scholarly agression. Good thing that type of a tackle doesn't ... who am I kidding - I need sleep!