Here it’s another Saturday night and I ain’t got nobody....for real. Ah, well. I’ve just become somewhat accustomed to this on-again-off-again social scene at Georgetown. As I haven’t really found consistent friends, my activities are reliant on what club is having a meeting/party or who I happen to run into that is going somewhere. I guess I’m just not the type to hunt down parties to hang out. This would make me feel like a loser if I actually thought I was a loser. In reality, I’m just bored as all hell and somewhat envious of those who can just go out. If only I could call someone just to have that “We want to do something, but we don’t know what to do” conversation, just for old times’ sake.
However, things in general are pretty sweet. I just found out that I am playing the part of a rival in Mask and Bauble’s play The Illusion, which is really exciting, I think. I believe my part involves first being pretentious and haughty, then once I’m confronted, I become sniveling, cowardly and weak. During the call-back reading, there was a point at which I was supposed to be slapped by the hero, a fellow suitor of a certain lovely lady. The other actor and I agreed that I would take the slap. Granted, I agreed to this believing it would be either a stage slap or at least a slap I could take. When the time came, I turned to leave, the other actor grabbed my arm, spun me around and drove his palm into my face. The directors and producers all jumped and stopped the scene to see if I was alright. I was fine, still on my feet and cognizant, more surprised than anything else and actually disappointed that I had forgotten the next line in my disoriented state. I assured everyone I wasn’t seriously hurt and that it was all in the spirit of acting and we moved on, but it became a running joke for the day, which only made the cool bond I have made with the theater people stronger. See, there you go, I don’t know what I’m talking about socially. I totally now have people to hang with.
In other interesting and uplifting news, I have my first crew practice/orientation on the water on Tuesday, as well as the Ultimate Frisbee meeting tomorrow. Still waiting for math to pick up past vector addition and multiplication, as well as for Wednesday when we get to discuss the Spanish Tragedy in English, which is such a good play. All in all, I’m psyched and I’ve gone through quite a mood shift since I started the entry.
Sunday, August 31, 2003
Friday, August 29, 2003
Ok, so who thinks it's like the coolest thing ever that I came back to my dorm room to find that my roommate had bought me a Boondock Saints Poster? Yeah, me too.
In other news, made callbacks for The Illusion put on by Mask and Bauble. Wish me luck int hat and in crew, which I also started today. Let's hope I don't just drop dead from exhaustion one of these days.
Much Love
In other news, made callbacks for The Illusion put on by Mask and Bauble. Wish me luck int hat and in crew, which I also started today. Let's hope I don't just drop dead from exhaustion one of these days.
Much Love
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Today was the first day of college classes. I was really looking forward to it because I was a bit tired of spending the days with relatively no purpose. In addition, this gives me a chance to meet new people who like the same classes I do, theoretically. Now, whether or not I’ll be cursing my classes in a few weeks is debatable, but nonetheless, I’m happy for them now.
In my Multivariable Calculus class, my teacher, a rather unassuming older man named Benke, mentioned that we would be referring to three or more dimensional coordinates as vectors, which might seem surprising, because we are mostly used to vectors in terms of movement. He then mentioned that we could get into the philosophy behind that idea, but would stick to the basics today. This statement set off some sort of beacon in my head. After mentally searching for the possible source of this link between philosophy and math vectors, I finally found it, managing at the same time to discern one of the reasons I adore math so much.
I am of course aware that points on a plane are described by coordinates. I have not, however, stopped and thought about what they mean. Bear with me, those who are completely disgusted by math: a point is described, in most mathematical situations, by its relation to the origin. I never realized how this parallels with human life. Think about it: how would you judge accomplishment if not by comparison to where you have been? Success by former failure or mediocrity? Happiness by former pain or lack of emotion? Human experience is defined by its relation to, distance from, and orientation about our beginnings. Just as a point cannot be truly defined as unique without another reference, the origin, the value of any given day in our lives cannot be determined without comparison to the beginning, or at least the previous day. We know we are happy because of the shift in our feelings from their normal state, yet another way in which we find definition through a reference. Maybe I’m thinking too highly about all of this, but I found it fascinating.
Anyway, I made my way from Calc to my Early Renaissance Theater English class. Our instructor, though quite young in appearance, boasts a doctorate, and even more impressively, a noticeable appreciation for literature, plays, and especially Shakespeare, though she intends to teach us about the theater world beyond Shakespeare. We have to read plays and then discuss them in class, along with posting instigating theories and ideas online about the plays for each other to think about. Doesn’t that sound cool? I think so.
Finally, French rolled around. As soon as I walked in, I felt apprehensive. The others seemed a bit more confident about their presence in the class than I did. Within minutes of starting, I realized they had reason to be confident. The teachers extremely fluent French was leaving me in the dust, whilst all of my classmates were not only nodding in comprehension, but responding in equally flawless francophone. After suffering through the class, feeling less qualified with each passing moment, I left the room without a doubt that I would have to drop the class, not because of a teacher conflict or boredom, but because I simply was not fluent enough to be in that class. Thus ends my career in French. I’m taking Beginner Spanish instead, so I can have a flighty grasp on two languages instead of a firm grip on one. I think it should be fun to start from the ground up again, and I still maintain enough French knowledge to first of all, speak covertly with Michelle, and secondly, to woo women. That is all I need to know.
The only other exciting thing today was my audition for Mask and Bauble’s play The Illusion. I auditioned with a monologue from Tamburlaine the Great by Kit Marlowe, my new revered author of the Renaissance Theater scene. I think it went well, though I was stopped first and told to put it over the top a bit more. Then my friend Pravin and I were asked to read some open dialogue together, which is a bizarre experience. He and I left Poulton Hall, the off-campus home of M&B, to find that the weather had changed dramatically and that we would have to get back to our dorms in a deluge of rain. We decided to just take it easy and simply walked back, getting completely soaked in the process. We were walking along, just talking as if it were any other day, when a particularly harsh torrent of rain hit us full force. Suddenly, we both burst into laughter at our ridiculous endeavor and continued to roar all the way to my dorm. It felt good to laugh unabashedly. I can’t say I’ve felt comfortable enough to do that yet here.
In my Multivariable Calculus class, my teacher, a rather unassuming older man named Benke, mentioned that we would be referring to three or more dimensional coordinates as vectors, which might seem surprising, because we are mostly used to vectors in terms of movement. He then mentioned that we could get into the philosophy behind that idea, but would stick to the basics today. This statement set off some sort of beacon in my head. After mentally searching for the possible source of this link between philosophy and math vectors, I finally found it, managing at the same time to discern one of the reasons I adore math so much.
I am of course aware that points on a plane are described by coordinates. I have not, however, stopped and thought about what they mean. Bear with me, those who are completely disgusted by math: a point is described, in most mathematical situations, by its relation to the origin. I never realized how this parallels with human life. Think about it: how would you judge accomplishment if not by comparison to where you have been? Success by former failure or mediocrity? Happiness by former pain or lack of emotion? Human experience is defined by its relation to, distance from, and orientation about our beginnings. Just as a point cannot be truly defined as unique without another reference, the origin, the value of any given day in our lives cannot be determined without comparison to the beginning, or at least the previous day. We know we are happy because of the shift in our feelings from their normal state, yet another way in which we find definition through a reference. Maybe I’m thinking too highly about all of this, but I found it fascinating.
Anyway, I made my way from Calc to my Early Renaissance Theater English class. Our instructor, though quite young in appearance, boasts a doctorate, and even more impressively, a noticeable appreciation for literature, plays, and especially Shakespeare, though she intends to teach us about the theater world beyond Shakespeare. We have to read plays and then discuss them in class, along with posting instigating theories and ideas online about the plays for each other to think about. Doesn’t that sound cool? I think so.
Finally, French rolled around. As soon as I walked in, I felt apprehensive. The others seemed a bit more confident about their presence in the class than I did. Within minutes of starting, I realized they had reason to be confident. The teachers extremely fluent French was leaving me in the dust, whilst all of my classmates were not only nodding in comprehension, but responding in equally flawless francophone. After suffering through the class, feeling less qualified with each passing moment, I left the room without a doubt that I would have to drop the class, not because of a teacher conflict or boredom, but because I simply was not fluent enough to be in that class. Thus ends my career in French. I’m taking Beginner Spanish instead, so I can have a flighty grasp on two languages instead of a firm grip on one. I think it should be fun to start from the ground up again, and I still maintain enough French knowledge to first of all, speak covertly with Michelle, and secondly, to woo women. That is all I need to know.
The only other exciting thing today was my audition for Mask and Bauble’s play The Illusion. I auditioned with a monologue from Tamburlaine the Great by Kit Marlowe, my new revered author of the Renaissance Theater scene. I think it went well, though I was stopped first and told to put it over the top a bit more. Then my friend Pravin and I were asked to read some open dialogue together, which is a bizarre experience. He and I left Poulton Hall, the off-campus home of M&B, to find that the weather had changed dramatically and that we would have to get back to our dorms in a deluge of rain. We decided to just take it easy and simply walked back, getting completely soaked in the process. We were walking along, just talking as if it were any other day, when a particularly harsh torrent of rain hit us full force. Suddenly, we both burst into laughter at our ridiculous endeavor and continued to roar all the way to my dorm. It felt good to laugh unabashedly. I can’t say I’ve felt comfortable enough to do that yet here.
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
I must say, I hear a siren call of acting. I don’t think I would be the best at it, but I’m having a lot of fun dabbling at the moment. For instance, for my Orientation Prelude program yesterday, I was placed in Imagination, Movement and Improvisation. With the help of an instructor, Karen Berman, we did a series of exercises involving improv and acting. One of the exercises required everyone to try become another person through emulating their stride when they walk. And the lucky guy to be imitated? That’s right, it was a whole stage full of people walking like the Jolly Green Giant. I couldn’t help but laugh when every single person caught on to my weight shifting gait. When we stopped, the instructor asked people to say how the walking made them feel. A smaller guy said it made him feel big. Some said confident. One guy had the balls to say arrogant. It was kind of cool to find out what I convey in simply walking, especially if one of the characteristics is confidence. That was sort of surprising.
Then last night, after a brilliant speaker on pluralism (ie diversity) that absolutely blew me away, I went to O Show, the Orientation presentation put on by the varied theater groups of Georgetown. The heavyweights, Nomadic Theater, Mask and Bauble, and the Georgetown Players were all there. Afterwards, as I was talking to a few of the members about doing tech work and maybe acting, they told me to stick around for a party they were having afterward. One long walk out to T street later, I was partying with all of the theater people, as well as other interested freshmen like me. I met some very intriguing people, including a girl who loves Shakespeare and Branaugh due to an inspiring AP lit teacher, which sounded vaguely familiar. I also met a nice girl from England who told me I had a cool accent. I ended up talking to these and others for a while at the party, and then walked them back to Harbin hall where they are living. It was nice to meet some people with many similar interests and I’ve already plugged my movie collection to get them to chill here some time.
Then last night, after a brilliant speaker on pluralism (ie diversity) that absolutely blew me away, I went to O Show, the Orientation presentation put on by the varied theater groups of Georgetown. The heavyweights, Nomadic Theater, Mask and Bauble, and the Georgetown Players were all there. Afterwards, as I was talking to a few of the members about doing tech work and maybe acting, they told me to stick around for a party they were having afterward. One long walk out to T street later, I was partying with all of the theater people, as well as other interested freshmen like me. I met some very intriguing people, including a girl who loves Shakespeare and Branaugh due to an inspiring AP lit teacher, which sounded vaguely familiar. I also met a nice girl from England who told me I had a cool accent. I ended up talking to these and others for a while at the party, and then walked them back to Harbin hall where they are living. It was nice to meet some people with many similar interests and I’ve already plugged my movie collection to get them to chill here some time.
I decided that an abbreviated version of my trip to Lake Champlain would be best for a blog setting, so I'm only going to post the most important part. If by some chance, you would like to read the rest, email me. The Basilica was easily one of the most oddly beautiful churches I’d ever seen. Not only is it bigger than Notre Dame and St. Paul’s, but the varying cultures that have contributed to the building of the structure have made it quite a specimen. One of the most incredible sights was a room roughly three stories high completely filled with rows and tiers of votive candles, organized by intention and centered around a towering display of flickering candles sitting at the feet of a statue of St. Joseph. It was absolutely incredible how the scene made faith almost palpable in its potency. A more unusual aspect was the room in which tourists can visit the heart, as in the organ, of Brother Andre, who was the creator of the basilica and died before its completion. There we were, unsure of propriety’s place in the scenario, huddled around a gilded jar containing what was reportedly the heart of one pious priest. It was definitely a bit creepy. Finally, once we had climbed the hundreds of stairs up to the actual Basilica, we were greeted with a fantastic view of Montreal from the terrace and a surprisingly unadorned interior. The greatest moment, however, occurred when we were admiring the stained glass windows. Suddenly a set of scales in the design caught my eye, striking me as significantly similar to the image used for Libra in horoscopes. I turned to my family, asking, “Why are there zodiac signs in the stained glass windows of a Catholic church?” Sure enough, upon circling the church, we found that the uppermost design in each of the twelve windows was most definitely a sign of the Zodiac. After reading both of Dan Brown’s books and eating up his discourses on hidden symbols, I found myself enthralled by this obvious joke on the part of the artist responsible for the windows. My smirking appreciation was short-lived, however, as I found out that the Basilica was completed in the seventies. Not only did that serve to explain why the top of the church was adorned with stone-carved emblem reading “St. Joseph” in bubbly letters that looked like they belonged on the side of the Mystery Machine, but it also could have been the reason for the astrological windows. My dreams of a Masonic or Sionic conspiracy weren’t completely crushed, but rather somewhat sullied.
Thursday, probably one of the finer days in my mind, we made the drive to Whiteface, a mountain in the Adirondacks near Lake Placid. Driving up the side of the mountain towards the summit, the view to our right became increasingly breathtaking, as nearby rock behemoths fell beneath us. A mere 4,800 feet later (!!!), we arrived at one of the highest parking lots I think I’ve ever seen. After standing speechless at the sight of the incredible view, with tree-lined hills bowing down for miles, my uncle led us to the rock staircase. Apparently we still had a hike to the very top via a makeshift staircase that was literally a line of rocks with a railing jammed in it. Though my legs protested their soreness after my morning run, I gladly made the climb, finding amusement in taking the most difficult route possible across the rocks, which at one point had me standing a bit too precariously over a pleasant drop off. After reaching the top and appreciating the well-earned burn in my legs, I suddenly realized where I was. What was previously an incredible view to one side of the car was now a breathtaking view on all sides. I found myself face to face with clouds as I gazed around at the absolutely stunning sight of mountains and hills dominating the landscape for miles. I looked down to see Lake Placid off to what I believe was the east. From that height, the water seemed certainly deserving of its name, though its normally formidable size struck me as more of a puddle than anything. I found an outcropping or two upon which I stood simply contemplating my own amazement. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything quite that awe-inspiring before in my life, though a lot of my trips with my dad came close. Whiteface just took the cake, however, because never in my life have I felt as simultaneously belittled and empowered by nature as I did on top of that mountain.
Thursday, probably one of the finer days in my mind, we made the drive to Whiteface, a mountain in the Adirondacks near Lake Placid. Driving up the side of the mountain towards the summit, the view to our right became increasingly breathtaking, as nearby rock behemoths fell beneath us. A mere 4,800 feet later (!!!), we arrived at one of the highest parking lots I think I’ve ever seen. After standing speechless at the sight of the incredible view, with tree-lined hills bowing down for miles, my uncle led us to the rock staircase. Apparently we still had a hike to the very top via a makeshift staircase that was literally a line of rocks with a railing jammed in it. Though my legs protested their soreness after my morning run, I gladly made the climb, finding amusement in taking the most difficult route possible across the rocks, which at one point had me standing a bit too precariously over a pleasant drop off. After reaching the top and appreciating the well-earned burn in my legs, I suddenly realized where I was. What was previously an incredible view to one side of the car was now a breathtaking view on all sides. I found myself face to face with clouds as I gazed around at the absolutely stunning sight of mountains and hills dominating the landscape for miles. I looked down to see Lake Placid off to what I believe was the east. From that height, the water seemed certainly deserving of its name, though its normally formidable size struck me as more of a puddle than anything. I found an outcropping or two upon which I stood simply contemplating my own amazement. I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything quite that awe-inspiring before in my life, though a lot of my trips with my dad came close. Whiteface just took the cake, however, because never in my life have I felt as simultaneously belittled and empowered by nature as I did on top of that mountain.
Monday, August 25, 2003
Well, I made it to Georgetown and I must say it rocks. Normally I try to adhere to more eloquent methods of phrasing my ideas, but no, Georgetown simply rocks.
I got here Friday, a day earlier than my scheduled move-in date. After waking up at 3 after a late visit to Tech, we drove to the airport, and 3 naps later, we were in Washington DC. We checked into the Georgetown Inn and then walked a few blocks up to campus to look around, fully expecting that I wouldn’t be allowed in my dorm until tomorrow. However, I decided that I wanted to at least check it out. We walked up to the front doors, and sure enough, they were open and the Residence Hall Office was staffed. I had a sudden thought and asked if I could have my key, just to check out the room. To my surprise, the assistant informed me that they had JUST received a message that they could admit anyone who showed up early. Upon hearing this, we immediately decided that I would move in that day and beat the droves of kids coming in the next. We went to lunch with my uncle, then back to the hotel to get my stuff. By the late afternoon, I had everything in my room except for my bedsheets, TV, stereo, and fridge. Furthermore, I got my GOCard (ID) and all of my books Friday, when only a few upperclassmen were in the bookstore. Long story short, we lucked out big time with move-in, so much so that by the next day, after meeting my roommate and getting my heavy appliances situated, I had the freedom to walk around campus, signing up for crew and theater groups along the way.
Orientation’s been a bit too much like summer camp for my tastes, especially because I have had no real trouble meeting the other people on my hall. I even helped some girls on the other side of the building hook up their internet connection, so Joe’s advice to be Mr. Fix-It was definitely wise advice.
Today we had convocation, the elaborate ceremony to welcome all of the new students. It was quite possibly one of the most beautiful ceremonies I have ever seen, let alone been a part of. There we were: holding our black robes in on our arms, applauding the enrobed faculty as they entered, and contemplating the importance of the rather large mace that the first professor held before him. I listened as the Provost explained the legacy of the ceremony, after whom proceeded a couple of selected speech makers. Finally, we came to the presentation of students. Each school in the university was asked to stand up and be presented to the President of the school. After this process, we were told to don our bachelors robes as full-fledged members of the Georgetown Academic Community. Finally, a religious service for the worship of intelligence, wherein, along with allusions to the “dogs of war” and Thoreau’s “castles in the air,” a Dean told us that we are to “battle the legions of ignorance with all the ordinance we can muster.” DAMN STRAIGHT! Sorry, that really excited me when he said it.
So then came the parent goodbyes. Mom put on a brave face, but she must be dying inside. Now she’s all alone at home, and all I can think about is how great it is to be here. I gave her several big Ian hugs (mom edition), and told her I loved her and appreciated everything she’d done to get me where I am today and I meant every single word of it.
After the lunch, we had our academic meetings, which required all the kids in Georgetown College to report for their course materials and then meet other kids with their desired major. I must say, I did not realize that such attractive people, and I mean that generally for both sexes, could actually find math as interesting as I do, but they were there. It was reassuring that I wasn’t the only math freak who managed a decent personality on the side.
Following dinner with a couple of the boys from my hall, I went to be in the picture of all the freshman spelling Hoyas. Then I went to the Orientation-sponsored, private Better Than Ezra concert. That’s right, an actually known band played privately. It rocked, but I left early to check out the ice cream social thing they were having. I know what you’re thinking, “Ian, why the hell did you ditch a concert for an ice cream social.” Well, to be frank, I was beginning to wonder whether I would have to drastically alter my lifestyle, personal beliefs and myself to be social at Georgetown. So I went to the ice cream social in the hopes that I could find people my speed, aka like my great A kids. If anyone’s thinking that I’m not growing if I hang out with the same kind of people as I did in high school, I would have to ask why hanging out with similarly cool people would be a bad thing. As I entered the student center for the program, they had just run out of ice cream, so it became just a social. However, I spent the next hour and a half belting out “American Pie,” “Livin’ on a Prayer,” “Summer Lovin’,” “Jack and Diane,” and just about every song you know I hold dear to me, along with a bunch of upperclassmen. It was such an incredible time. I spoke with people afterwards, as I became somewhat popular through my enthusiasm, and they told me not only to come on the Escape non-denominational retreats, but to join their two main groups, the Escape planners and Hoya Blue. I feel like I’ve found my niche already, between this and Nomadic Theater. Now I am officially psyched for the next year and beyond. Actually, right now I am officially tired, so I may go to sleep, or fight sleep and visit my cousins dorm. We shall see.
HOYA SAXA BABY!
I got here Friday, a day earlier than my scheduled move-in date. After waking up at 3 after a late visit to Tech, we drove to the airport, and 3 naps later, we were in Washington DC. We checked into the Georgetown Inn and then walked a few blocks up to campus to look around, fully expecting that I wouldn’t be allowed in my dorm until tomorrow. However, I decided that I wanted to at least check it out. We walked up to the front doors, and sure enough, they were open and the Residence Hall Office was staffed. I had a sudden thought and asked if I could have my key, just to check out the room. To my surprise, the assistant informed me that they had JUST received a message that they could admit anyone who showed up early. Upon hearing this, we immediately decided that I would move in that day and beat the droves of kids coming in the next. We went to lunch with my uncle, then back to the hotel to get my stuff. By the late afternoon, I had everything in my room except for my bedsheets, TV, stereo, and fridge. Furthermore, I got my GOCard (ID) and all of my books Friday, when only a few upperclassmen were in the bookstore. Long story short, we lucked out big time with move-in, so much so that by the next day, after meeting my roommate and getting my heavy appliances situated, I had the freedom to walk around campus, signing up for crew and theater groups along the way.
Orientation’s been a bit too much like summer camp for my tastes, especially because I have had no real trouble meeting the other people on my hall. I even helped some girls on the other side of the building hook up their internet connection, so Joe’s advice to be Mr. Fix-It was definitely wise advice.
Today we had convocation, the elaborate ceremony to welcome all of the new students. It was quite possibly one of the most beautiful ceremonies I have ever seen, let alone been a part of. There we were: holding our black robes in on our arms, applauding the enrobed faculty as they entered, and contemplating the importance of the rather large mace that the first professor held before him. I listened as the Provost explained the legacy of the ceremony, after whom proceeded a couple of selected speech makers. Finally, we came to the presentation of students. Each school in the university was asked to stand up and be presented to the President of the school. After this process, we were told to don our bachelors robes as full-fledged members of the Georgetown Academic Community. Finally, a religious service for the worship of intelligence, wherein, along with allusions to the “dogs of war” and Thoreau’s “castles in the air,” a Dean told us that we are to “battle the legions of ignorance with all the ordinance we can muster.” DAMN STRAIGHT! Sorry, that really excited me when he said it.
So then came the parent goodbyes. Mom put on a brave face, but she must be dying inside. Now she’s all alone at home, and all I can think about is how great it is to be here. I gave her several big Ian hugs (mom edition), and told her I loved her and appreciated everything she’d done to get me where I am today and I meant every single word of it.
After the lunch, we had our academic meetings, which required all the kids in Georgetown College to report for their course materials and then meet other kids with their desired major. I must say, I did not realize that such attractive people, and I mean that generally for both sexes, could actually find math as interesting as I do, but they were there. It was reassuring that I wasn’t the only math freak who managed a decent personality on the side.
Following dinner with a couple of the boys from my hall, I went to be in the picture of all the freshman spelling Hoyas. Then I went to the Orientation-sponsored, private Better Than Ezra concert. That’s right, an actually known band played privately. It rocked, but I left early to check out the ice cream social thing they were having. I know what you’re thinking, “Ian, why the hell did you ditch a concert for an ice cream social.” Well, to be frank, I was beginning to wonder whether I would have to drastically alter my lifestyle, personal beliefs and myself to be social at Georgetown. So I went to the ice cream social in the hopes that I could find people my speed, aka like my great A kids. If anyone’s thinking that I’m not growing if I hang out with the same kind of people as I did in high school, I would have to ask why hanging out with similarly cool people would be a bad thing. As I entered the student center for the program, they had just run out of ice cream, so it became just a social. However, I spent the next hour and a half belting out “American Pie,” “Livin’ on a Prayer,” “Summer Lovin’,” “Jack and Diane,” and just about every song you know I hold dear to me, along with a bunch of upperclassmen. It was such an incredible time. I spoke with people afterwards, as I became somewhat popular through my enthusiasm, and they told me not only to come on the Escape non-denominational retreats, but to join their two main groups, the Escape planners and Hoya Blue. I feel like I’ve found my niche already, between this and Nomadic Theater. Now I am officially psyched for the next year and beyond. Actually, right now I am officially tired, so I may go to sleep, or fight sleep and visit my cousins dorm. We shall see.
HOYA SAXA BABY!
Thursday, August 21, 2003
I finally found a solution to my problem of feeling stuck between high school and college. These past few days, it was right down the road in Athens, or perhaps at Tech if we had visited their first. Either way, all I needed was to see my friends at college, enjoying themselves, to not only feel fine that no one’s around, but also to feel excited enough about the prospect of my own happiness to be able to survive this last ghostly day. I had a great time just walking around with them and, during the course of my visit, I realized that this separation thing isn’t going to be as hard as we all may have thought, or maybe I was the only one who really felt it to be so. I walked right in and things were still cool, and yet at the same time, it was incredible to see my friends on their new paths. It just seemed perfect for each of them and nothing could have made me happier.
Not to mention that visiting all their rooms, being introduced as the guy from the Ian stories and walking around Athens made for more fun than I even imagined that I would have. Dinner at Little Italy was excellent, as was seeing two girls from church, both named Eileen, whom I never thought I’d see again. One practically tackled me and I didn’t even really remember being particularly close to her. It’s weird how people’s perceptions of a friendship can differ.
It was definitely a great little excursion, right down to the great car rides with Katie filled with deep conversations, good laughs, and everything in between. Can’t think of a better way I could have spent my day.
Not to mention that visiting all their rooms, being introduced as the guy from the Ian stories and walking around Athens made for more fun than I even imagined that I would have. Dinner at Little Italy was excellent, as was seeing two girls from church, both named Eileen, whom I never thought I’d see again. One practically tackled me and I didn’t even really remember being particularly close to her. It’s weird how people’s perceptions of a friendship can differ.
It was definitely a great little excursion, right down to the great car rides with Katie filled with deep conversations, good laughs, and everything in between. Can’t think of a better way I could have spent my day.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
Damn, I screwed up and got Saddam way too high, but check it out:
Parents who bring squalling brats to R-rated movies
Circle I Limbo
Saddam Hussein, Oakland Raider Fans
Circle II Whirling in a Dark & Stormy Wind
The New York Yankees
Circle III Mud, Rain, Cold, Hail & Snow
General asshats
Circle IV Rolling Weights
Rednecks
Circle V Stuck in Mud, Mangled
River Styx
Goths
Circle VI Buried for Eternity
River Phlegyas
Uday Hussein
Circle VII Burning Sands
Qusay Hussein
Circle IIX Immersed in Excrement
Osama bin Laden
Circle IX Frozen in Ice
Greetings from Limbo
I am a ghost. That’s what I have decided during this, my last week in Alpharetta. Everyone is gone and school has started, yet I am still here, haunting the streets with no influence on my surroundings, but no pretense to escape them until Friday. It’s bizarre to spend the day feeling purposeless. I mean, I love spending time with those who can, but while I’m at home, I feel caged. When everyone was here, it widened my horizons. I had potential reasons to be all over Alpharetta: people’s homes, where they work, etc. Now, it feels like my environment has been reduced considerably. It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine the way it used to. The weirdest thing is, it’s not that I want everyone back, though that wouldn’t be so bad, it’s that I just want to get the hell out of here. I’ve had great times here. Now it’s time to have great times elsewhere.
I am a ghost. That’s what I have decided during this, my last week in Alpharetta. Everyone is gone and school has started, yet I am still here, haunting the streets with no influence on my surroundings, but no pretense to escape them until Friday. It’s bizarre to spend the day feeling purposeless. I mean, I love spending time with those who can, but while I’m at home, I feel caged. When everyone was here, it widened my horizons. I had potential reasons to be all over Alpharetta: people’s homes, where they work, etc. Now, it feels like my environment has been reduced considerably. It just doesn’t feel like it’s mine the way it used to. The weirdest thing is, it’s not that I want everyone back, though that wouldn’t be so bad, it’s that I just want to get the hell out of here. I’ve had great times here. Now it’s time to have great times elsewhere.
Monday, August 18, 2003
Saturday, August 09, 2003
And so it ended. Tonight was the last official hang out of my friends, the A Kids. I know I’ll stay in touch with most of them. Some have become so close to me that I can’t imagine not having them in my life. Yet tonight, I didn’t feel like I was leaving, as if I didn’t believe it was truly the last time. I’m not sure if that means I’m stuck in the past, or that I’m ready for the future, or if I’m just where I am supposed to be right now. All I know is that the last year has been the best time of my life. Sure, that may not be saying much as I’m only 18, but it’s everything to me. I have lived more in the past year than some people can hope to in their entire lives. I owe a great deal of that to my friends. We’ve laughed and cried. We’ve shared conversations and silences. We’ve experienced the world together. Although it may be painful for us now, while we’re coming to grips with not seeing each other 5 times a week, I think we collectively know that each of us is on the right path personally. I’m sure our individual paths will cross again, hopefully soon, but I know that I personally will always cherish the year I spent walking beside each and every one of my friends.
Guys, to quote Ben Folds, I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you. Thank you all so damn much.
I truly am the luckiest.
Guys, to quote Ben Folds, I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you. Thank you all so damn much.
I truly am the luckiest.