maybe this is not your year

Once upon a time
When we were young
We thought we'd escape from it all
But we were wrong

Then unexpectedly
We’re in a dream
So faintly we didn’t notice
Or did we?

Enter the other side
It sounds like a lullaby
In this twilight
We are pale
On this frail side
Nothing else could be so real

Is it nostalgia?
Is it the sun?
Cause it wont leave us alone
And we’re still young
When we sat down to pray
If you saw my eyes
You’d know I just couldn’t close them
Not all night

Enter to the other side
It sounds like a lullaby
In this twilight
We are pale
On this frail side
Nothing else could be so real

Lights out, shoot up the station

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I present to you, for your enjoyment, an internet radio station that kicks ass. All you do is type in a band or a song and it makes a whole radio station that plays similar music. It’s worth a look.

Also, I am a janitor no more. After a mere two months they found a replacement of dubious quality. But I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. By the way if anyone is interested in the meaning of the phrase I will enlighten you.....

It is fairly clear one shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth because it would be rude to do so. Understanding the origin of the phrase further expands on meaning. There are two possible sources for the phrase “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Both suggest it is impolite to inspect a horse’s teeth, which generally is a good indication of age and value. The receiver of the gift horse should instead prove him or herself grateful instead of trying to instantly examine the worth of the horse.

Now my only job is to get into a grad program...then once I am in find a new part time, degree correlated job. It never ends, I spend this life allways in transit.

You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific?

Good news on the procreation front. Our doctor, who rocks, has identified the problem. Apparently there is a critical low of progesterone. Thankfully the treatment is simple and 97% effective. Elaine will take supplementary doses until the placenta takes over and that should carry the pregnancy to term. Knowing the cause, and thus knowing that we can fix it makes this soooo much easier. Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

The quiet things that no one ever knows

I had a dream yesterday afternoon. I dreamt that I had three fish tanks and all the tanks were connected by a series of tunnels. I was watching the tanks trying to make sure the fish were ok. For some reason a squid had gotten into the tanks. Since they were freshwater tanks I watched in disbelief thinking that the squid couldn’t survive in the tanks but the squid showed no adverse effects. I watched helpless as the squid moved quickly into the farthest tank on the left. In that tank were two dwarf Gourami’s they were both weak and the squid immediately pounced on them and ate them both as I pounded on the lid of the tank trying futilely to make it stop. Once the squid had finished with the fish it buried itself into the sand on the bottom of the tank apparently waiting for another fish to swim in. I grabbed the tank and sloshed it around trying to get the squid to swim out. My actions only stirred up the sand and revealed the body of a small sculpin that had died previously. The squid had only been temporarily dislodged from the sand and it reached over and grabbed the fish, a previous victim I believe, and reburied itself. Then I woke up then leaving the dream with the undying squid in the sand waiting and me powerless to do anything about it.
The meaning of the dream is simple. The fish are my children, the tank is my wife and the squid is the nameless undying thing that takes my children each in succession.
This is our second miscarriage. They were twins, most likely identical. I never thought about twins and indeed I never knew I had any particular desire for twins until they told us Elaine was carrying twins. I realized immediately that it was something I wanted and probably always had wanted. Identical twins especially were a hearts desire I never knew I had until now. It makes the loss all the more heartbreaking. It is a 1 in 100 chance to have twins, 1 in 100. To achieve and lose that is like winning an important contest and then finding out a week latter that because of a technicality the prize was sent back to the manufacturer. My initial response was despair and rage. Now I am just spent.
My feeling now is best summed up in the verse “Though he slay me yet I will follow Him.” But sometimes it’s so bitter…so bitter.

So keep the blood in your head

And keep your feet on the ground

If today's the day it gets tired

Today's the day we drop out

“I am from Canada and I have never seen anything like that.”

As I previously stated, I just returned from California. I went down for a week to visit friends from college. I could describe the trip in greater detail but there isn’t much to say, we did what we always do. It was a good trip, but short. It’s unfortunate that the people you love the most end up being the people the furthest away. We spent most of the trip in San Diego and drove from there home in one straight shot.
We drove through the night, the only incident of interest happening in Kettleman City.
I have stopped there every time I have driven from southern California to Portland for several reasons. First, it is the last In-N-Out you will see heading north out of LA and second, it is spaced perfectly for refueling.
We pulled in at about 11:45 to the chevron and I began to fuel the car while Elaine went in to grab me a soda and use the bathroom.
The Chevron gas station is joined to McDonalds, together forming a rectangle parallel to the freeway. There are four gas pumps in front with parking in the front and on one side where there are also bathrooms. The complex sits on a corner with roads in front of the pumps and then running downhill on the side opposite the bathrooms
While I was fueling, there was a white passenger van and a small Honda(?) with tinted windows parked down by the bathrooms with a group of guys standing around. These guys started to get really worked up about something but since I don’t speak Spanish I had no idea what was going on. At this point another guy walks out of the convenience store and, as soon as he sees the crowd by the bathroom, turns on his heel and flees, disappearing around the side of the McDonalds. The crowd by the cars sees the guy running and raised a shout, then piled into their cars and peeled out after him; the white van going around one side of the McDonalds and the car going around the other to head him off. As the cars disappear from line of sight a semi going down that road blasts its horn indicating that in his flight the guy had run out into the road.
Once they were gone the guy at the pump across from mine looks at me and says:
Guy: “I am from Canada and I have never seen anything like that.”
Me: “Yeah, I don’t even know what was going on.”
Guy: “Man I don’t have a clue.”
I then went back to waiting for the gas tank to fill. Moments later the guy who had been pursued came back around the corner by the bathrooms with the white van following about fifteen feet behind. The guy on foot had a handgun which he would periodically brandish at the guy in the van trying to get him to back off. The guy with the gun continued to walk up towards the pumps and when he got close enough, opened to driver’s door of our Subaru and jumped in! I immediately rushed forward and jumped into the passenger side, told him to get out, and pushed him out of the car.
He got out and continued to move toward the McDonalds. I at that point got back out of the car, shut the driver’s door and locked the car. By then the guy and the van had moved out of line of sight back around the McDonalds. At that point the other folks at the gas station began to think that maybe it wasn’t such a hot place to be. The few cars there began to peel out, aiming for the freeway. At that point I heard 4 to 5 gunshots fired on the other side of the McDonalds and then the white van rolled by going back up the road.
I waited for Elaine in the car while the Canadian guy left in a panic only to realize he prepaid his gas and return to harass the attendants for his money back (Elaine said he was screaming and cussing her out - and that she though he was the problem!). Elaine and I were the last car to leave and, once we got on the freeway, we saw two squad cars tearing down I-5 South aiming for Kettleman City.

I have always wondered when faced with a dangerous situation if I’d freeze and let fear get the best of me. Now I know that I will be fine. There was a moment when I first saw the gun that I felt myself shake, but it was only momentary. I didn’t leave the pump because the guy was focused on the van and I didn’t want to attract his attention. I didn’t want to be the guy who got people killed because he ran. So, as long as he was only seeing the van we were all relatively safe. When he got into our car I cursed myself for not locking it, but I wasn’t scared. In the fraction of a second before I got in the car I had three things run though my head:
1. An image of Elaine and I stranded in the middle of nowhere.
2. The thought "Not on my watch".
3. The idea that I couldn’t let the guy get away. If he was at the gas station he was contained but if he got away in my car armed and desperate he could hurt other people.

That, in the end, is what made me get in the car. The truth is that when I got in and pushed him, he was already on the way out since he didn’t see keys in the ignition. (Thankfully Elaine insisted that I not leave them in the car - just in case.)

So yeah…Kettleman City



“A Kettleman City gas station turned into a murder scene just before midnight on Tuesday night after a 33-year-old man was shot down by an unknown number of suspects. Kings County Sheriff's deputies were dispatched to the 27500 block of Ward Drive at 11:57 p.m. on a call of shots fired. When they arrived at the Kettleman City Chevron Gas Station, they found an unresponsive Hispanic male suffering from apparent gun shot wounds.Officers pronounced the man dead at the scene.The suspects were last seen fleeing the area in a white passenger van towards Highway 41.Investigators contacted regarding the case would not answer questions regarding the nature of the shooting, stating only that "the case is still being investigated at this time."
Other than his hometown of Portland, Ore. and his age, law enforcement officials are not releasing additional information on the victim until contact can be made with his next of kin. An autopsy on the victim is still pending as of this afternoon.Anyone with information on this case is requested to contact the Kings County Sheriff's Department at 582-3211, ext. 2790.”

- The Sentinel

Well I confess, I don't know what to make from all this mess

So follow the leader down
And swallow your pride and drown
When there's no place left to go

Well I suppose its time for me to reveal my performance on the GRE. I arrived home from California to find the final scores in a pile of mail on the kitchen counter. The results are disappointing, more so than I had initially anticipated. I scored a 600 on the verbal which puts me in the 85 percentile. The result of the math section was a score of 620 with a percentile rank of 65. The essay portion was a 3.5 out of a possible 6 leaving me sadly in the 20 percentile. Overall it was a pretty poor showing. I still am not sure if I should retake it. I suspect I won’t. Now I get to put everything together and try to begin the application process. Next week will be busy with that.
The weather has changed in Oregon. Fog gathers in the hallows now and the air is cold and carries the promise of winters arrival. I am rapidly running out of time. Despite that all I want to do is sleep and dull my mind with pointless diversions.

A nod to the spirits of the past

I am in a Burgerville with Elaine and we are grabbing a quick bite between errands. It’s the location close to my old high school and as a nod to an old tradition and the ghosts I used to share it with I request the two songs out of the jukebox.. The first of these is Land Down Under by The Men At Work then the second comes on.
Elaine: “who is this?”
Jeff: “It’s Toto. The song is Africa.”
Elaine: “I like it.”

Guy sitting with some co-workers several tables away bursts into song: “I guess the rains down in affffrriicca…” Then he says to his co-workers “Good old Toto, they never let you down.”

And then I smile to myself.

Take that King George....

Then

Now

I am a quasi-historical figure. I took part in the Boston Tea Party…I just joined it about 300 years too late. In Boston Harbor is an old sloop (or schooner I can’t remember exactly what kind of ship it was). The ship is a floating museum to the Boston Tea Party complete with historical enactors and fake boxes of tea that you can throw overboard. Since the boxes are tied with ropes to the ship they are never lost and so your participation, as it were, is somewhat of a fraud. So I decided that I would do my part to protest the taxes imposed by the British and toss a spot of tea into the harbor myself. I reached down, grabbed the box and threw. Just as I released the box I heard my sister cry out “Jeff! NO!” But it was too late and as the box flew over the side…the rope tied to it followed…all of the rope that was supposed to secure the box to the ship followed. The rope had been cut. My sister and I watched the tea box drift out into the shipping lane and then out of sight. I proceeded to go below decks and hide.


I was probably around 13 on a long flight to visit my mom’s family in Minnesota. Me and my sister we sitting together in one row and my parents were in another. I was in the middle and my sister was on the isle. The guy in the window seat was this young really tall black guy who was just huge and built like a line backer, all muscle. I only make those observations to fully establish just how great my error was. So early in the flight I fall asleep. Not long after, in a state of only partial wakefulness, I sit up and somehow I think that the guy in the window seat is my dad. So I turn, to him pat him on the arm affectionately and give him a huge idiot grin and then I lean back into my seat and instantly fall back asleep. When I wake up a half hour latter I vaguely remember the incident but can’t tell if it was a dream or it actually happened. The remaining hours of the flight are awkward as hell. It is only as we descend into Minneapolis that I finally get up the courage to ask him if it happened. I only got as far as “Excuse me sir but I was wondering…did I...” before the man erupted into hysterics. He was laughing so hard that he began to cry and could only answer my question by nodding his head. He was really nice about it and didn’t make me feel bad despite the laughing.

Infinite Loop

Picture this if you will:
It’s a nice sunny summer day in Oregon.
Elaine and I are weeding the side-yard.
A high school kid cruises up on his bicycle and stops next to where I am weeding.
Kid: “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
I stop weeding and walk over.
Me: “Sure man, what do you need?”
I am thinking “Sorry bud but I am not buying a magazine subscription, even if it means you won’t earn enough to go on that reward trip to Antigua with the rest of the junior sales team.”
Kid: “Why were the cops here?”
I look up and down the sleepy residential street.
Me: “The cops were HERE?”
Kid: “Yeah, the cops were just here so I rode down to see what was going on.”
Me: “Really? Well sorry man but I haven’t seen any cops.”
Kid: “Yeah, they were just here. Do you know what they were here for?”
Me: “No, I didn’t see any cops. I ran an errand about an hour and half ago so maybe I missed them…or something.”
Kid: “Did you hear anything last night?”
Me: “No, I didn’t hear a thing.”
Kid: “I heard a loud noise…it woke me up. I thought that maybe that’s why the cops were here.”
The kid looks at me imploringly.
Me: “Yeah….well I am a pretty sound sleeper soooo…”
Kid: “So, why were the cops here?”
Me: “Look man, I am really sorry but I didn’t see any cops…at all.”
Kid: “Yeah, well, ‘cause last night I heard a really loud noise. Did you hear it?”
Me: “I…No I didn’t hear a thing. I slept right through the night.”
Kid: “But why were the cops here?”
Me: “Look, I didn’t see any cops. So I have no idea. And I didn’t hear anything last night.”
Kid: “Yeah, it woke me up. Did you hear it?”
At that point I begin to worry, there is no exit strategy for this type of conversation…it becomes an infinite loop driven by undeniable madness.
Me: “I heard nothing.”
Kid: “Well it woke me up and I thought that maybe the cops…”
Me: “I never saw any cops, I never heard any sounds. I really don’t know what to tell you.”
Kid: “There were people outside my bedroom window last night.”
“Possible” I think to myself “but highly unlikely.”
Me: “Well…that’s scary. Did you tell your folks?”
Kid: “Yeah there were three people outside my bedroom window.”
Me: “Three of them….outside your bedroom window?”
Kid: “Yeah it was three girls and they were there and they were naked.”
I think to myself “Well that’s probably the average high school guys dream”, and with this new information I can officially judge this lad’s story a complete fabrication.
Me: “….Nice.”
Kid: “But I’m 17 and I am too mature for girls. I was into girls when I was a kid but I am too mature now for girls.”
The kid regards me as if waiting for me to say something and I just stare back. I am trying to decide whether the presence of a girl weeding with me or the wedding ring on my finger, should be the most compelling clue to this kid that apparently I don’t share his sentiment.*
Kid: “Yeah, my three friends all have girlfriends but they are too young and immature they shouldn’t be dating.”
The kid looks at me for confirmation.
Me: “Look man, I don’t know your friends so I am in no position to evaluate their relative fitness for dating relationships.”
The kid looks at me with distrust and I raise my palms in a helpless “What the hell did you expect gesture?”
Kid: “Well I am 17 so I am too mature for a girlfriend.”
Me: “Hey, if that helps you sleep at night.”
Kid: “Well last night, did you here anything?”
Me: “Nope! No noises, no cops and as it so happens my bedroom window was not graced by a parcel of naked chicks.”
Kid: “I rode down here because I saw cops.”
Me: “Indeed. Well I have to get back….you know weeding and all.”
I turn to go
Kid: “But WHY were the cops here?”
Me: “If they show up again I’ll be the first to ask.”
Kid: But did you hear anything last night?”
Me: “No. Have a good day.”
The kid mumbles something unintelligible and rides off up the street.

When I told Ryan this story he began to laugh and asked if I had some sort of sign on my back that invites crazy people to talk to me. I thought about it and, yes, I do attract the crazies. Let’s, just for kicks, review the highlights.
Ferret-loving drunks: where cheap wine and weasels meet.
Crazy women who want to use animals as punishment: why abuse just children or animals when we can do both at the same time!
The effortlessly confused, picture illiterate people.
That homeless guy who insisted I owed him two dollars because I “lost a bet” about whether or not he could remove his prosthetic eye.
The other homeless guy who told the junior higher in my charge to “bleed me like a stuck pig” if I were an adult.
That guy in the waiting room who chose me out of five other people to address a highly cryptic somewhat incriminating philosophical non-sequitor immediately following which he went back to reading his book and ignoring me.
My high school stalker; thanks for the awkward memories, and scores of guilt trip laden letters.
Those are just a few of my many experiences with the less mentally settled segment of our society. But hey, at least I never got felt up in Santa Monica. (That’s right buddy, all of us got ammo.)

And we sleep inside of this machine

Music is worthless unless it can make a

Complete stranger break down and cry

This is an intentional overstatement but it still makes the point. Music is powerful. Even without lyrics music can tell a story or paint a landscape just as clearly as a book or a painting. Those pop songs with insipid lyrics about some jackass’s car truly are worthless in most ways that matter. Music like literature can transport people and it can crystallize ideas. I have always thought so. With that being true why then do Christian praise chorus lack so much? With the weight of the truth that they carry why do they often sound simple, repetitive and empty? It hit me the other day as I sat in church. The music was the standard set of songs we usually sing and I began to get annoyed because the music sounded like I felt, empty and tired. I thought about it on the way home and I think it is sad that there are so many powerful songs we don’t sing just because they are not in the conventionally held worship rotation. So I decided that I would write my own alternative worship set, one that would be moving particularly for me. I only put nine songs in keeping with the traditional amount in any given set.

The Transfiguration - Sufjan Stevens
Come, Lord Jesus – Andrew Peterson
40 – U2
Let That Be Enough – Switchfoot
Be Thou My Vision – (full band w/ Celtic overtones style)
Call Me Liar – Plankeye
Don’t You Know I’ve Always Loved You – Third Day
Some Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape – Underoath
Revelation Song – (The John Warren, Full Band version, not the sappy version that seems to be everywhere right now.)

I am not sure about the Plankeye song but I like it as a lead in to Third Day and Underoath. It just seems a bit disjointed from Be Thou My Vision.

Other songs that I would have put on an extended set include:
Lifeline – Brooke Fraser
Abraham – Sufjan Stevens
To Be Alone With You – Sufjan Stevens
The Artist In The Ambulance – Thrice
Dare You To Move – Switchfoot
Learning To Breathe – Switchfoot

And if you did want to use artists that are stock for the Christian music scene:
Consume Me – DC Talk
Entertaining Angels – Newsboys
(Those happen to be two good songs ok! Stop rolling your eyes!)

The answer's in the question.

(I present a true-life nanny story. I will henceforth refer to my charge as "the kid" to keep from embarrassing anyone.)

*The kids and I are sitting at a table playing Attack Uno.*
Kid: “Can I ask a question?”
Me: “Sure man, shoot. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
*Kid looks at me in confusion. I sigh.*
Me: “Ask away bud.”
Kid: “Would it be OK if I went to the bathroom right now?”
*The game slides to a halt with everyone staring at the kid.*
Me: “OK, before I answer that let me just repeat what you just asked so we can be sure that I heard you right. You are asking me whether it’s OK if you pee your pants right now?”
*Kid half-nods.*
Me: “OK first let me just say that no, it is most certainly not OK for you to pee your pants; and second, intentional pant-wetting is just wrong on so many levels.”
Kid: “Well, I am wet anyway.”
Me: “Right, the crucial difference being that right now it's water not urine.... in fact why don’t you go put on some completely dry cloths before we play anymore.”
*Kid walks to his room to get his clothes.*

To tell it straight, I'm trying to build a wall

Change, change, change,
I want to get up out of my skin
tell you what if I can shake it
I'm 'a make this something worth dreaming of


So folks.... I am back from Hawaii for awhile and, much in the same vein as Eric, I have delayed far too long to post about it. I might do a post with some of the pictures I took later on. It was a good trip overall. Elaine has done me a service in posting a complete record. I was there one more day than she was. Good trip even though the family aspect can be hard at times. I never quite feel like I belong. I love my family but sometimes being with them, especially on long trips, I feel really alone. Anyway, since I returned I haven’t been up to that much.
The current status of my higher education is me preparing to take the GRE in August and apply for my masters program for the winter term. So there it is. It won’t happen in the fall. It is a relief in the sense that it gives me more time, but it also creates a huge gap. I intend to get to California in this gap.
It’s scary, honestly, pushing forward again. I don‘t feel ready for the GRE and things always seem to get so busy. I am now in a place where I have so much riding on it. I have been telling people my plans for such a long time, as if it were a sure thing - as a way of explaining why I don’t have a job in the field I spent so long studying for, as a way to justify not making enough money and even just so that I can still have a path to follow. It gets murkier each year and now with the next set of hurdles fast approaching all the anger and the eloquence are bleeding into fear. I am pursuing this goal, even though it seems that I never get closer, because it is the only thing with vocational applications in life that I am really passionate about. If you have to work you might as well do what you love, what’s the point in anything else?
It’s weird how foreign the idea of pursuing your great loves and personal fascinations vocationally is to so many of the people I know. They all have this idea that the goal is to maximize income doing whatever job has the best and easiest opportunities, and so it seems wasteful that I would give so much to this quest.
God built me in such a way that I see him most clearly in nature; I was born for this in a way. Granted, I am not the smartest person and many other people will be better in this field than I will. But for me anything less than seeing this through would be settling, not because it was right but because it was easier.
In the meantime I am working two jobs as a way to ease our finances and do my part, so it’s not all on Elaine. I work at our church as a glorified janitor. And now I am also be a nanny for the rest of this month as well as the next. I am watching two boys for a friend’s brother while he’s at work during the day until school starts. The boys are 7 and 8, good natured and well behaved. I feel burnt out after a day watching them, but not because of them acting crazy. It has even, so far, been an interesting experience and I will probably post more on it later.
The jobs are both ok but sometimes I catch myself wondering what the hell I am doing with my life and begin to feel like a failure. Soon enough I will move on and I know I can accomplish good in these positions. It’s just that some nights I can hear the old voices and mocking laughter on the wind and see the raised eyebrows in my mind’s eye. Aren’t we all just so wonderfully haunted?

Part 4 (the guitar)

We went to the Shirock's house (the pastor who married Elaine and me) and he showed us this guitar he hand made. It was the most beautiful guitar I have ever seen. No picture could do it justice.

Part 3 (fishing)

While we were in Michigan we stayed at homes immediately adjacent to lakes the entire time, and they were awesome. The Griffins, who we spent a lot of time with, were soooo generous. With them the soda and beer flowed like an unending river and candy was as numerous as sand on the seashore. Their lake house was gorgeous, and the lake it was on - picturesque.

Being on the lake so much afforded a few little moments that I could snatch to fish.

The first house we were at I only had time to fish a little, and never had any luck…except losing a lure and having a huge bass taunt me by swimming around the dock. Of course, it hid anytime anyone else came out onto the dock. “There was just a huge bass here!! I swear”! They would nod, walk off and only then it would swim back. I named it Starbuck the Bass of Reason, Bringer of Madness.
At the Griffin's lake house the fishing picked up and I landed a Crappie (pictured) a large Bluegill, and hooked two fish big enough to break the fishing line.
We spent our time there hanging out, drinking soda, playing pinball, going for boat rides, and fishing at their lake house. It was easily my favorite part of the trip.

The wedding itself was good. It had the best wedding slide show I have ever seen. That is saying something as I usually really dislike wedding slide shows.

damn she's hot

Post 2...(if I had a bakery)

While I was in Michigan I got this idea for a bakery name.
So I present to you the bakery I don’t own…

I also thought it would be interesting if the quote on your tombstone was the last sentence you said while still alive. If that were the case and I was about to be in an obviously fatal car crash, I hope I would have the presence of mind to turn to whoever else was in the car and say “prepare to end your life in a glorious fashion”!

Michigan part 1 (Henry Ford Museum)

So now that I am well over two weeks overdue, it’s time for me to post. I begin with the Michigan trip. Elaine has pretty well covered a generalized timeline of each day and, as such, I feel no need to repost the same thing. Simply put, it was a decent trip. I mostly enjoyed myself despite spending a significant part of our time with strangers and tending several accident prone children. So, outside of the wedding stuff, I will post the events of most interest to me.

We will begin with the Henry Ford museum. I like museums and so our time there was a well spent afternoon. Let’s just say it had huge, and I mean HUGE, trains - a tank seems flimsy and small by comparison. I was impressed. The museum is dedicated to transportation which means that some of the exhibits were….not so impressive. It is true that cars like the 1980ish Honda Accord do represent significant steps forward in the automotive trade, but the fact remains…it’s a 1980 Honda Accord and nobody is impressed. I passed at least 5 cars that were in the museum... and also in the parking lot. That aside, it had a lot of very cool stuff.
The other thing that was weird was that since it was a “transportation etc.” museum, they didn't address anything war related or anything that had military connotations. It kind of annoyed me. Not that they were trying to, but I hate it when people ignore parts of history. History is what it is and it should not be censored or modified just because some aspects of it are uncomfortable. Even in the darkest parts of our past there are still valuable lessons to be learned and valuable innovations it would be foolish to ignore just because their setting is awkward.

In the section on flight they omitted World War I and World War II. Never mind the fact that virtually all advances in aircraft technology arose from military research and applications initially designed for war. It made the exhibit choppy. I mean, you look at one exhibit and it’s a very early model French plane; the next exhibit is a Curtis Jenny with a huge number of advances and technological improvements that were developed over the course of WWI.

Oh well... it was still a cool museum.

The other aspect of the museum that really almost deserves a post on its own was the live music. They were called the Mom Candy Band - that should say a lot on its own. The musicians (a term I use loosely here) were three women in their 40s. The vocals were, how I say this nicely…abysmal. The biggest problem, however, was their song choices. The ABC song is simply the ABC song. It doesn’t matter how fast you play it, how many guitar hooks you throw at it, whether you attempt the lyrics as if you were a emo-screamcore band, or try to harmonize with your band members - it is still the ABC song. No matter what you do, it will never “rock.” The same goes for Oh Susanna, Frere Jacques, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or any song designed specifically for an audience that has difficulties with basic motor skills (and yes I know Oh Susanna is a traditional American folk melody but irregardless at this point it is a kid’s song despite its history). Needless to say, they played all these songs in a fast, scream core style.

Yes there were a few kids there who seemed to like them and danced to their songs, but those kids were a very undiscerning audience who would have danced to a recording of cats yowling played at high speed. Mostly, people avoided the portion of the museum where they were playing. Come enjoy the trains but for your own sanity bring ear protection.

The other thing that I thought was odd was that on the museum’s signs they have as a subtext stating: “the best museum in the united states”. This seems a bit presumptuous to me; better than the Smithsonian? Really? You want to claim that? Ok.

I got to thinking - what if museums were honest about their limitations? Maybe it would look something like this:

If you can't read the subtext it says "you wouldn'y fly out here to visit us, but since you're here you might as well."

Posts about Michigan to come soon.

Remember that goldfish you flushed down the toilet?

He remembers you too.

You know, good night

Well as Elaine already said we saw Coheed & Cambria. The show was awesome…I got a kick ass shirt. We were closer to the stage than I have ever been at any concert. The sound quality was pretty poor due to the venue but its Coheed…and that’s never less than awesome.
It was Elaine’s first true concert experience. And that was an amusing thing in itself. Allow me to expound.

Elaine: *on the way there* “We should hurry so we get good seats.”
Jeff: “Seats?”
Elaine: *with confusion* “Well you know….so we can sit in the front middle and get a good view.”
Jeff: “Yeah about that…..there won’t be seats.”
Elaine: *shock* “What? You mean we’ll have to stand the whole time?”
Jeff: *with grim finality* “Yeah….concerts like this…seats become fatal.”
Elaine: “Really……..oh.”

Elaine: *During the show* “These girls in front of me are pissing me off!!”
Jeff: “What are they doing?”
Elaine: “They keep bumping into me and stepping on my feet!!”
Jeff *ponders how to explain this* “Yeah…they are going to do that…in fact I suggest dispensing with any concept of personal space... at a concert like this it doesn’t exist.”
Elaine: *considering that for a moment* “Well ok, but trade spots with me.”
Jeff *slides into position and immediately ends up close enough to the girls to get a harassment suite anywhere else*

Don’t get me wrong Elaine came around and was soon in the front packed tight with enraptured people covered in sweat having a wonderful time. It was just funny to me, watching her experience the scene for the first time.

The end complete

Come break me down

Bury me, bury me
That’s what you get
When let heart win
Emotive unstable like an unwinding cable car

Listening for voices, but it's the choices that make us who we are

Glory, glorious.

Oh, I don't know how I was made.
And why do we like to hurt so much?
And why, all the possibilities
Well, I was wrong
I have a ringing in my head

And no one to help me answer it

Even with you close enough to kiss.
Talk, talking a lot, but it's still talk
Say whatever you want

'Cause I can laugh it off.
But thinking about it can't help me let go, I know.
I must look like I'm running away

To you at your faster pace

I wonder what it is you could have seen, in me.
Glory, glorious.
We are glory, glorious.
Not from what good we have done
But from being the least.

Then your love came to me

Stood next to mine, and I saw that I was poor.
This is the correlation of salvation and love

Don't drop your arms
Don't soon forget
Grace marked your heart
Don't drop your arms

Elaine had the first shot at it so by this point much of what I would say would be just reiteration but blogs were built to be updated just as birds were built to fly. By now the results of the second ultrasound, our child’s death and Elaine’s subsequent medical care are well known. I compiled the choppy pseudo-poem thing at the front of the post entirely from a handful of songs/music videos that I watched almost exclusively during the 2 or 3 day crisis climax. I tried to use the lyrics to embody all I felt and arrange them in such a way to give an indication of my progression of thought. Lord only knows if it worked.
I almost put a post on my blog the very day before the second ultrasound and I was going to say something about how things were 90% angled towards a good resolution, that’s how confident I was, I am glad now I restrained myself. And what is there to say about it really? What do you do with it? That was where I stalled out. Because as early as it was in the pregnancy it was almost losing an idea, a possible future, something you wanted and was close enough to touch….just barley. I never even knew the gender, something that basic and we never even knew. I am ok with it now? Was I then? I don’t know. I was sitting there and when I first found out from the ultrasound tech I wanted to throw the novel I was reading at the wall. The bitterness being of course, everything else has gone wrong. But that passed and it passed quickly because I am one of those people who shunt the emotions aside to do what needs be done. “Ok, what do we do next? What are our options now?” Really it’s a survival method, keeps you functional even with the building falling around your feet. After that it fades back in slowly.
So, after the initial crisis after we reached decisions about what course of action to take, how did it feel? It was like this, a weary emptiness…and that “what do I do with what happened" feeling.
I mean I saw the heart beat….and now there isn’t anything…what do you do with that? It never even had a name or a gender that we knew but it was still our child…..what do I do with that? Helplessness is the shot and emptiness is the chaser. But it’s the kind of thing, at least for me, you don’t want to talk about…out with good friends, parties if you can find them, and a bit of alcohol that’s how you ease back into static life again. Still though depression from that and the, what I would term, betrayal by a friend in conjunction are still in my system somewhere and even though they aren’t constant companions they still drop by for visits every now and then.
But overall, Elaine and I are ok. I am really fine with the lost of my child, in the sense that I understand why it had to leave and I can support the reasons. A lot of people expect some anger towards God in this but I have none. He created the very complex biological systems that regulate our physical selves and he put in them safeguards. Our child was suffering from the curse of sin and death and rather than being born into this world with deep physical problems it was lucky enough to pass painlessly on to a future that I can only believe is better. If anything God has shown his love through the concern and prayers of our friends and church. In the comfort my wife has receive from God and can only raise my arms in praise.
And that’s where it ends, my faith in God and his fundamental goodness unshaken. I am doing well now, looking forward to trying again. Yes I am still sad sometimes but mild depression has been one of the few constants in my life.

You were the beauty, that we had to leave behind.

A drive home filled with animals

Tonight driving home late from working at the church I saw a deer and a raccoon. The deer was standing at the roadside waiting for me to pass before crossing the street with disinterest. If I had opened my door and reached out I probably could have touched it. The Raccoon scuttled across the street with a sense of purpose, no doubt out foraging in the traditional Raccoon way. It just makes me happy to see some sizable animals persisting even after we have snuffed out their contemporaries like candles. We have turned their homes into urban strip mall wastelands and reduced the forests to small patches of wooded areas choked with ornamental plants that spread like Triffids across the landscape and yet the persist and in some cases they even push back. Tonight I raise my beer to the species that refuse to go quietly into the night. I raise my glass to the Wolves that have not only recovered in Idaho but are now moving into Eastern Oregon despite the ranchers committing the sins of their fathers and trying to exterminate them yet again. I raise my glass to the Elk of Tillamook Oregon who spend the hunting season on the air museum lawn and local land owners gardens only returning to the huntable area just after the season closes. I tip my glass to the ubiquitous Coyote, yes you ate my neighbors pet rabbit but we took out your specie’s prey and covered your home in asphalt so I can’t fault you and in fact I wish you luck. I dedicate a sip to the Mountain Lion, the common mole, the Peregrine Falcons of New York, all the species that just won’t quit. I only wish the other large North American mammals were so lucky. What can I say; I have always loved nature and animals. My picture of Heaven is a wide undisturbed world teeming with life, a place of natural beauty to be explored with countless species to be catalogued. That’s why I am trying to become a marine biologist, conservation biologist and or an aquarist I was born with it in my blood. That is why tonight as I drove home I couldn’t help but smile and wish the animals that crossed my path godspeed.

If...

Be calm, be brave, it'll be okay...

Today was Elaine’s first doctors appointment, the one where they haul out the “observe the baby in its natural environment” machine. We were in this small tastefully decorated room, Elaine on the couch/bench/chair/electric thingy, and me in a small chair on the side. Our doctor fired up the machine and the screen filled with that grainy black and white haze that defies easy identification. Then there was a black void and in the center a single white spot, like a star, as I watched it flickered as the heart beat. I think I may have gotten a little bit misty. That’s when I noticed the doctor looked very concerned. The problem simply stated was and is this: our child is a normal healthy looking 5 week old baby but Elaine has been definitely pregnant for 8 or 9 weeks. The doctor was happy at least to see a heart beat but there are only two possibilities with this situation. The first being that Elaine released two eggs in delayed sequence the first getting fertilized and giving all the tests positive results but not developing while the second fertilized egg followed latter, keeping the tests positive but screwing with how far along we thought she was. The second option is that the child isn’t developing properly. If the kid isn’t growing Elaine will miscarriage before a week is over. On next Thursday we go back in to the hospital and get another ultrasound (with a higher resolution machine). That is when, barring something happening in between, we will find out whether our child will be pulling through. Elaine and I are doing ok, and I know we will be fine no matter what. It’s the waiting that’s hard, not knowing how to feel because it could go either way. High risk pregnancies must be hell. The weirdest thing is the possibility that all those plans we started making could become meaningless in a mere moment. It’s tense and since I found out this morning I have had trouble focusing on anything. My folks know, because my mom had called and I wasn’t going to lie about it. I told my sister too.
The thing I wanted though was to be with friends today. Friends who would want to know how I was doing but also that I would be able to just hangout with and not think about this morning.


I did talk to one of my friends tonight, because he called. It went like this in paraphrase.
Friend: “So how are things? Was your day ok?”
Me: “Today I found out that there is about a 50% or higher chance that Elaine will have a miscarriage this week. I won’t know until next Thursday if our kid will make it.”
Friend: “Oh man, I’m really sorry to hear that. I’ll let my wife know and we’ll pray for you guys.”
Me: “Thanks.”
Friend: “Yeah, my work has been rough this week, but your situation is worse. Well I just got home and I need to get some sleep. Let me know how that comes out.”
Me: *After he hangs up* “Thanks a lot…..jackass.”

Sometimes I think I am using the term friend in situations like this too liberally.

And there it is..

Most of you know by now that Elaine is pregnant. That’s right, despite frigid ocean water, scalding hot tubs, and other assorted stressors I have sired a progeny. Elaine beat me to the post. I don’t feel scared or worried about having a kid. Maybe it’s because it doesn’t feel completely real yet. (Except for the fact Elaine has felt exhausted and a little bit nauseous for about a week and a half now.) The parenting concerns that keep most people up at night don’t bother me though, I have a “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it” mentality that keeps me from worrying. It’s still weird though, the idea of me being a dad. Its funny how I feel old in general but on this topic I feel young and neither is particularly accurate.
I know the post is short but I haven’t figured out the whole telling people yet. Usually it goes like this.

Rob. “Hey man how’s it going?”
Jeff. “Oh hey, things are fine. How are you?”
Rob. “Good what have you been up to?”
Jeff. “School and stuff…you know normal stuff. Elaine’s pregnant though, so that’s new.”

This post then is the electronic equivalent.

Every morning I sit across from you at the same small table, the sun all over the breakfast things

Sometimes you have to hurt that which you love

I brought the bad news

Could you take it from me

Coming from me

-

-

Came as a gift from a good friend

That dissaproves

But understands

-

-

Consult your friends adults and kids

Hear out what they have to tell you

Even if it hurts you

Even if it kills you

Sometimes loving someone means hurting them. When I say that I simply mean that sometimes the most loving thing is a difficult thing that hurts both parties. Nobody wants to have those hard conversations with a friend, spouse, or person their dating where they point out the problems. I think though that the people the people close to us who confront us when we are in the wrong are the only true friends we have. I can’t tell you how many times I have heard people say that they don’t want to do anything to hurt someone because they love them so much. It seems to me that the truly loving thing to do is to give the person the truth, give them the chance to learn, give them the chance to improve and become a more mature and developed person even though it hurts. Life hurts and attempting to shield someone at the expense of the truth only stunts them. I dated a girl for two years before I married Elaine. When I broke up with her it wasn’t easy because I knew it would hurt us both but I also looked at it from the long term perspective. Yes it would hurt in the moment but I saw only worse from staying in it. If I had stayed in it because I loved her to much to hurt her than what I would have been doing would not have been love, it would have been conflict avoidance. Elaine and I are honest with each other and call each other when we are out of line, it’s not always easy and it can hurt but honesty from a friend is better than well meaning half-truths or lies. In so many marriages I have seen it is so common for spouses to “pick their battles” usually meaning they don’t call the other on anything except for those acts that are so obviously wrong that even they can’t justify ignoring it. I don’t know. The more I think about it I have to admit I doubt this approach. Keeping your head down to keep a functioning home seems to me to be short sighted. Marriage is about helping the other become more Christ-like and if that is the end goal than aren’t we abandoning our role if we don’t help our spouse grow. Growth is hard, growth is painful, and growth requires change. If we approach our marriage as just maintaining than how are we acting in love? It seems more self-preservation than love. We are only responsible to do the right thing, not how the other party responds. If you point out what’s wrong and try to work with your spouse to fix it that’s all you can do. They may despise you for it, they may leave you in the worst case scenario, but regardless you have to do the right thing. People let so much go, selfishness, and all those verbal swats of disrespect just to maintain. If not for the betterment of your spouse or your emotional health than call it for the kids you might eventually have. Trust me kids see everything; I know I did, and it won’t be good enough for them to watch you let things go no matter how you explain it. You have to fight to make you marriages function in a healthy way. You have to be honest despite pain to be a good friend. You need to be willing to cause pain, when it is the truth, to be loving. You are responsible only for your actions not the others response.

Luke 21:
21 When Peter saw him, he asked, "Lord, what about him?"
22 Jesus answered, "If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me."

you're a voice that never sings, is what I say

But now that the sun sets

Wasn’t it a perfect storm?

The thing about the whole getting drunk thing that really bothers me now is not so much that it happened. Granted there are things about it that I don’t like, but overall I don’t care. It has driven me nuts the way so many of the people I know react to the information with an awkward “hmmmm…..well…..that’s not good” and look down with awkward disapproval. So this is what it feels like to be on the outside, I have always felt like an outsider but usually people don’t seem to notice it. This time they did. The only people who seem to be at all amused are Elaine, Ryan, Stacy, and my dad. This was a new experience and of course I want to talk about. Why then do these people insist on acting as though I wronged them or embarrassed them in some way? The only people I embarrassed were myself and Stacy. Then-in is my only regret. So Stacy if you read this here is my apology.

1. I’m sorry I got so hammered I wasn’t able to look out for you. Next time we go out, I’ll stay sober enough that we can look out for each other.
2. When I left I am really sorry I didn’t make sure you were ok for getting home yourself, which was negligent.
3. Lastly I’m sorry I ended our night at 11. The U2 cover band hadn’t even come out yet and I regret it largely because I had such a good time with you I wish it could have lasted longer.

That, as far as I am concerned, is the only thing that needs apology and the only thing I feel bad about.

WWJDD

On and on, reckless abandon

Something's wrong, this is gonna shock them

Well what update about my life would be complete without some recounting of my Saint Patrick’s Day first. Ladies and Gentlemen I, Jeff Eckmann, got totally hammered. I had no intention of becoming drunk….it just sort of happened. To make the point that I am not exaggerating let me explain. I couldn’t see my cell phone when I held it in front of my face…it was too blurry. Ok where to start.

Elaine is in Alaska this week visiting her sister. She knew I had always wanted to go to the Irish festival on St. Patrick’s Day at Kells Irish Pub downtown. Since she wouldn’t be here she set it up so I would go with Stacy our close mutual friend and several other friends. In the end everyone was unable to attend except Stacy and I. I was dropped off there an hour and a half or so before her. I got a few beers…three I think. Then I went into the Kells portion to listen to the traditional Irish band. There was this girl doing traditional Irish dances there which totally rocked. The only reason I mention her here is she crops up later in the story. Stacy arrived latter and by then I might have been close to tipsy. We went together and got another beer, and a shot of whiskey….or was it a shot of whiskey and then another beer…I don’t know. This is when the memories start to get a bit disjointed. At some point I got a free tee-shirt…I dropped it so much that Stacy had me put it on so I wouldn’t lose it. At some point we got free cups…at some point we filled them an indeterminate number of times with alcohol. When we were back in the tent I was telling Stacy about the dancing girl. I remember this part fairly well so I can narrate it.
Me: “Yeah that awesome girl who was dancing is that girl in the green tank top.”
Stace: “Ok, follow me.”
Me: “Wait…why? Where are we going?”
Stace proceeds to walk over to the girl and start talking to her. The rock band is loud and I don’t here a single word of it. The dancing girl looks at me and holds out her hand.
Girl: “Here.”
Me: “Ok….”
I take her hand and she leads me to an open space.
Girl: “Now hold my hand up in the air like this.”
I do and then she does a few turns of dancing around me.
Girl: “There you go.”
Me: “uhhh…Thanks a lot.”
I sheepishly walk back to Stacy who is trying not to laugh. We walk away and she starts laughing.
Me: “What the hell was that?! I couldn’t hear a word you said.”
Stace: “I told her I heard she was a great dancer. And she asked if I had heard it from the guy standing next to me and I said that you said that if I talked to her that she would dance with you.”
Me: “Are you serious?”
It was pretty funny actually, even then. I am pretty sure that I know now what kind of drunk I am, though Stacy is really the only one who can know for sure. I am not a mean drunk, or a loud drunk. I am a maudlin drunk. I am one of those guys who gets really emotional and does the whole “no seriously, you are the greatest friend I really love you, no seriously I mean it” thing. I think at one point I might have even kissed Stacy on the top of the head (like you would a child) to make the point clear. That was the part of the story that Ryan Sey laughed the hardest at; me, sloppy drunk and emotional, kissing Stacy on the top of the head like she was five just because of what kind of a drunk I am. I view her almost as a sister so I don’t feel weird that it happened at all. Still though overall, being drunk wasn’t my proudest moment. The whole last part I was so gone that if I didn’t have a wall to lean on I had to hold on to Stacy to keep from falling on my ass. I was even marked by an alcohol monitor with the red X of inebriation. Stace had gone to the bathroom and I was leaning against a wall and this guy walks up to me. “Can I see your hands?” He says. And though I think its an odd request (I couldn’t actually see straight enough to know he was an alcohol monitor at the moment) I gave him my hands which he marked with a big red X. Stace came back and explained what it meant..We tried to remove it….but they planned for that and used semi-permanent marker. Those tricksy devils. And as far as memories go that about covers it. I did try to buy Stacy a drink. We went to the bar proper and I pulled out a ten…..after I wrestled my wallet out of my pocket…not an easy feat. To be honest removing the ten was just as hard and getting the ten to the right spot on the bar took a couple tries. The bar tender took one look at me…one look at the ten and then he helped somebody else. Stacy took the ten and got the beer for us. I don’t know if we both got one or just her. By that point anytime we walked anywhere I had to hold her hand so I wound up in the right place. Needless to say by 11:30 Stacy helped me call my sister to drive me home. I spent the next two days recovering. Apparently since that was the first time I have ever been drunk in 26 years of life my liver had a rough time of it. Sort of like if you only ever painted with those paint by the numbers, just add water sets and suddenly someone gave you oil paints and expected a well executed Flemish landscape by the weekend.
So there go folks….as Ryan says it “wwjdd.” What Would Jeff Do Drunk. I wish I could remember that myself.

Stacy, I can't thank you enough. Thanks for being my gaurdian angel, keeping me upright, and making sure I left with my free shirt. You're a great friend, and no I havent been drinking again.

Sure it looks like a Quagga, but does it taste like a Quagga?

The title is a direct quote from Ruedas, my conservation biology professor and one of my favorite teachers of all time.

Well it’s come to my attention that I haven’t posted a blog in two months. Two months…that’s some serious neglect. So what’s going on in the world of Jeff? Well I finished up the term this week. I have to say I liked my classes a lot and I feel like I did pretty well in them. Even if I did let myself get a little under the gun at the end.
Elaine: “So when’s this 10 page research paper due?”
Jeff: “Oh……well….Tuesday.”
Elaine: “This Tuesday?! It’s already Friday!”
Jeff: “Look I’ll get it done…..then I’ll write the other paper for Wednesday and then get my in class presentation good to go for Friday.”
But hey it came together; my paper was pretty damn good. The two classes for those interested in the details were Conservation Biology, and Ecology of Rivers and Streams. Just for kicks I will share some highlights and memorable characters.

First I present the “Loud Guy” from conservation biology.
He was the guy who always had to put in his own two dollars to every conversation. One of those guys who always uses the animal’s scientific name, even if he doesn’t know it. One of those guys who says things like, “oh yeah like the Potamopyrgus antipodaru, I heard those are all over the place in Colorado” on a regular basis. I will present my personal favorite moment.
The guy starts off in class on a tangent about some animal.
Girl next to me turns to me and says: “I don’t think that he knows what animal he’s talking about. He said concolor and I am pretty sure that’s a cougar…..but I think he is trying to talk about a toad.”
Me: “Well….what can you do. Trying to look smart can get squirrelly on you pretty quick.”

Next I present the “The Professor Needs My Approval Girl” from stream ecology.
She was the girl who nodded enthusiastically to every point the teacher made. Without fail she would give some assent, be it just barley audible or through obvious body language.

There was the “Naive Girl” from conservation biology who got manhandled by the teacher on the last day of class when she said that one could “take the conservation lessons learned in the class to poorer nations and educate them on stewardship so they could apply them to their natural resources.” If anyone doesn’t see the inherent stupidity in this statement I can elaborate for you. The professor response was awesome.

One thing these classes did for me was give these weird moments where I actually felt smart. I mean really ahead of the game. Just times when I could see the flaws in the others statements even before the teacher pointed them out. I haven’t ever felt more than average and so those rare moments were I do feel more than that are really surreal for me. Like the time when we picked topics for the in class presentations.

At the front of the room is a list of possible topics. Under invasive species are aquatic plants, or invasive fish species. Both topics catch my eye but while I am deciding a girl comes up to the front.
Girl: “Do you mind if I slip in here and sign up.”
Me: “Oh, by all means, go for it.”
The girl selects aquatic plants and goes back to her seat.
I sing up for invasive fish species and sit down too.
Girl: “What did you sign up for?”
Me: “Invasive fish species, I know a bit about it already. What about you?”
Girl: “Aquatic plants…”
Me: “Oh cool, I almost signed up for that one. It’s a really good topic. The Mediterranean is fairly overrun already, a lot of these plants they can’t even stop. All it takes for the worst one is a plant fragment for it to grow and establish itself.” I was starting to warm to the topic.
Girl: “Really?”
Me: “Yeah….its a pretty big deal.” I had assumed people just generally knew this stuff.
Girl: “Oh….I just chose it ‘cause I thought it would be easy.”
Me: “Yeah, it should be.”
And then that was it and it occurred to me she had asked not because she cared about the topics. She had just wanted to chat with me. “Look”, I thought “talking about ideas and animals I can do. I can do it like a champ. However if it’s small talk you want, some sort of relational beginning, then unfortunately I got nothing. May I suggest the loud guy for that endeavor, sure his jokes are terrible but I can assure you he can do the small talk thing. He likes that.”

Soooo where was I? Oh yeah class was good and now its over until the next term.

Next term; Ecology and Biology of Phytoplankton, and I am pretty excited. Biology of Phytoplankton….can I get a hell yes.

Truth Of My Youth

It’s 11:30 and I’m sitting alone downstairs. I should be cleaning, or beginning the process of moving furniture back into the upstairs but instead I am here glancing at old friends blogs and myspace pages asking myself why I bother anymore. Generally at some point history becomes irrelevant, and a lot of what we deem history is merely imagined or experienced only within ourselves.
Were I left to myself I would have eaten out tonight and rented Dragon Wars and gotten tanked alone eating caramel-toffee scones in the basement. Elaine says I have fallen out of the habit of being alone since California. She’s partially right. I know it’s been years, but I miss nights where the party never really ended you just joined with different groups over the course of it.
This I suppose puts an odd counterpoint to the fact that I started my Master’s classes. I had planned to begin to get journal articles together and begin on any one of a handful of major papers and presentations required by my classes. I am stressed out about this graduate deal and I am desperate to do really well in these classes. The thing holding me till Monday is my ability to access both the online content of my classes and the libraries journal network expired and I can’t restart it over the phone. Meaning on Monday I have to walk into the college network overlord’s basement. “Can I have a new password?” “Oh sure…..sit over there for an hour and then I’ll give you a sixteen digit binary code that will be impossible for you to remember and I am unwilling to write down.”
I have been trying to write down the stories I created in my head but its slow going and the results are disappointing.
My time has been consumed by home improvement projects and now that that is winding down I think it will take another three days before I even begin to feel settled in my own home again.

I need to go and clean the basement…..*sigh*

The morning after

So this is the new year.

And i don't feel any different.

The clanking of crystal

Explosions off in the distance.

So this is the new year

And I have no resolutions

For self assigned penance

For problems with easy solutions

So everybody put your best suit or dress on

Let's make believe that we are wealthy for just this once

Lighting firecrackers off on the front lawn

As thirty dialogs bleed into one

I wish the world was flat like the old days

Then i could travel just by folding a map

No more airplanes, or speed trains, or freeways

There'd be no distance that could hold us back.