I haven't seen anyone since I came here. I'm not sure how long it's been, there's no way to tell the time. The lights in my cell go out every 16 hours or so, or at least that's how it feels. Again, I'm not sure. The cell is pretty empty. There's a bunk in the corner, and my papers across the floor. There's a dor in the opposite corner without a handle, only a small window and a slot where I get my food, paper, and graphite for my mechanical pencil. The slot opens and another ream of paper gets sent through. I 've stopped checking to see if someone's there. There never is. I don't know how they know what I need and when, they probably have a camera in here or something, but I haven't found it. I've tried watching for whoever comes to deliver my things, but they never come until I look away. So through all this, I sit and write. It's not such a bad life, really, and mabe someday I'll return to the outside world, but until I sit and write. Just sit and write.

Tunes: "Kiss Me, Diss Me", Home Grown; "Remote Control", Beastie Boys; "Lay It Down", Aerosmith; "Red Rain", Peter Gabriel.

Sorry about my absence, Ive been switching hosts, got mixed up in the process, and screwed up my MT config for a week or so. But I'm back, and regular prgramming will resume immdiately.

Hearken to the voices calling, beckoning you, let them lead.
Follow till you find your passion, feel the true joy, be awake.
Let the world come rushing to you, at it's own pace, let it come.
Existence is the way it is, you can't change it, c'est la vie.

Tunes: "There's Always Someone Cooler Than You", Ben Folds; "Older", They Might Be Giants; "I'm Not Down", The Clash

Well, I just wrote a nice long bit of fiction, and it got deleted. Grrrrr. I told myself before always to write posts in a word processor first. Anyway, a while ago I wrote this as a part of some emotions that needed venting at the time: "I only hope I can pull my plane through this hurricane of confusion and mixed emotions and coast through clear skies, enjoying the peace and tranquility of having made it after all." Well, I'm through, and, though I'm not where I'd hoped I'd end up, I can't really complain either. I am indeed tranquil for the most part, and as for peaceful, I'm about as close as I get. Life is good, for the moment. "'Cause that's really all that life is, Sister. It's a series of moments. Why don't you seize yours." -Loki, Dogma

Tunes: "Bad Day", R.E.M.; "Matt's Diner", Green Means Go.

I spent a couple hours this evening simmering in a jealous ire (a long story primarily about punk rock elitism). So, I vented at some friends, then at my parents when they came home. Mom and Dad told me to have a snack, walk the dog, get some fresh air, and just generally get a change of pace. I did, and soon felt much better. While I was snacking as per my orders, I was idly leafing through my library copy of Lao-Tzu, and found a quote that humbled me deeply. Another lesson learned, another day well spent I suppose.

"Of crimes--none is greater than having things one desires;
Of disasters--none is greater than not knowing when one has enough.
Of defects--none brings more sorrow than the desire to attain.
Therefore, the contentment one has when he knows that he has enough, is abiding contentment indeed."

The house creaks, shifting its weight as evening settles over my home. I slip out the back door as quietly as I can, trying not to wake up the dog. It's chilly outside; I can see my breath hanging in the air for a moment before it evanesces into the stark fall night. Looking south, I can see the pale warm glow of the city. The light is both a blessing and a curse: It's never totally dark, giving the illusion of warmth, yet because of it, one can never see the starlight wavering down from above. After a while, I notice that my feet are getting numb, so I shuffle back inside to reflect on all the implications of my late night observances.

Tunes: "Stakeout", Freezepop (scroll down); "The Apartment Song", Tom Petty; "Boys Don't Cry", The Cure; "What These Bitches Want From A Nigga", DMX.

So, Halloween weekend went well, had an all-nighter party at church, all fun, but the scariest part of the weekend came afterwards. It was Saturday, and after I'd gotten a few hours' rest, I went with my father and sister to run some errands. At the library, I checked out the Te-Tao Ching, The Tao of Pooh, and a DVD set that would eventually prove my undoing. That evening, I put in the first disc and sealed my fate. The DVD in question was the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Now, 24 hours and 12 episodes later, I can look back and say that I'm bitten (stupid pun intended). Add one more to the body count, Buffy has another victim in me (although, quite frankly, Willow has it all over Buffy, but that's a different rant).

Someone I love dearly is leaving me, and I'm not reacting the way I expected. There's still a vacancy deep inside, but instead of void replacing the firm cement of his presence, there's drywall. Not terribly sturdy, but there's structure nonetheless, and honestly, this is the way it should be. He reached out to me and gave me security, gave me a home, when I needed it most. I wouldn't feel right if I couldn't do the same for others, those here already and those to come. He gave me permanence, and Ineed to pass that along. So I sit, listen repetitively to some music, and try and brace myself for the times to come.

Ok, well maybe not, but I can play five songs that I learned by ear relatively well, and I feel proud. In chronological order, they are: "Brain Stew" and "When I Come Around" by Green Day, "I Love Rock and Roll" by Joan Jett, "Inside Out" by Eve 6, and "Get Over It" by OK Go. I'm learnin' how to play this here gui-tar REAL good, without selling my soul to the devil. And while I'm thinking about it, here's something funny that's somewhat related.

Halley's been saying some awfully flattering things about me. Thanks much, Halley!

On a side note, I took a few choir buddies out to their first rock show last night, which went really well, but it occured to me afterwards that apart from the sweaty mosh pits and loud blaring music and the general camaraderie, one of the best parts about going to one of these events is coming home afterwards and taking a really long, hot shower. After soaking my clothes in sweat, it feels great to strip down and sit in an upright fetal position in the tub, letting the water rain down on me. If rain fell outside at temperatures of upwards of 90 degrees, I'd be outside lying on the sidewalk every rainy day of the year.

Tunes: "Kryptonite", 3 Doors Down; "Lit Up", Buckcherry; "I Hate (Everything About You)", Three Days Grace.

I was cleaning my room a couple of weeks ago, and came across a couple relics of my (misspent? well-spent?) youth, or to be more specific, a few years ago, although it feels like decades now. Mock credit cards, once used to play video game after video game, and a small sheet of note paper, with various doodles on one side, and on the other, the beginnings of a short skit, with an extremely caricatured illustration taking up the bottom half of the page.

Here's to you, Paul. I miss you more than words can say.

Tunes: "Forest", System of a Down; "Somebody Got Murdered", The Clash; "The Rock Show", Blink-182.

Today after church, my Dad and I were driving along towards home, and I had the wonderfully familiar and comforting experience of singing along with Dad to a favorite old song, "Romeo and Juliet", specifically the Indigo Girls version. I remember having several long discussions with my former boss Karl about which version was better, the Indigo Girls or the original Dire Straits. While I have nothng against the Dire Strait's version, I feel the IGs add much more to the song's experience. You believe the despair in the vocals, and it feels as though the guitar is your own heartstrings being plucked to shed the quiet and bitter accompaniment. Now, normally when I post lyrics here, it's a sort of cop-out, when I'm too lazy to post anything real, but I'm on a roll with this train of thought so I'm going to post these lyrics here anyway. Please forgve any mistakes, I did this by ear.

A lovestruck Romeo sings a streetsuss serenade,
He's laying everybody low he's got a love song that he made
He finds a convenient street light and he steps out of the shade
And he says something like you and me babe how about it?

Juliet says hey it's Romeo you nearly gimme a heart attack
Yeah well he's underneath my window she's singing hey la my boyfriend's back
You shouldn't come around here singing up at people like that
Anyway what you gonna do about it?

Juliet the dice were loaded from the start
And I bet and you exploded into my heart
And I forget, I forget the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Julie?

Well we both come up on different streets and they were both the streets of shame
You know they're both dirty both mean yes and even the dreams were the same
And I dreamed your dream for you and, and now your dream is real, so tell me honey,
Now how can you look at me as if I was just another one of your deals?

Now you can fall for chains of silver and you can fall for chains of gold
You know you, you fall for pretty strangers and the promises they hold
But you promised me everything, and then you, and then you promised me thick and thin
And now you just turn away and say Romeo I think I used to have a scene with him

Oh, Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above gonna love you till I die
There's a place for us, ha, I know you know this song
Now when you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Julie?

I'm so in love I'm so in love yeah

But I can't do the talk like they talk on my TV screen
I can't do a love song not the way you sung it to me
I can't do everything but I would do anything for you, oh no
I can't do anything except be in love with you, yeah now

And all I do is miss you and the way it used to be, you know
And all I do is keep the beat I keep bad, bad company
And all I do is kiss you through the bars of this rhyme
When Julie I'd do the stars with you any time

Oh, Juliet when we made love you used to cry
You said I love you like the stars above I'm gonna love you till I die
There's a place for us I know you know the movie song
One day we're gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong Julie, Julie, Julie

Well this lovestruck Romeo sings a streetsuss serenade
He's laying everybody low he's got a love song that he made
He finds a convenient streetlight and he'll step out of the shade
And he'll say something like you and me babe how about it?

He lies draped limply across the bed, breathing slowly. He can hear the wind rushing down the street. He can see the murky glow of the moon through the window. He can smell the skunk that has been spraying all over the neighborhood. He can feel the cold autumn chill playing across his body. He can taste the lingering barbecue in the air from the neighbors. He can sense the chill fall night surrounding him, covering him like a blanket. Yet, if he can absorb all this life around him, how can he feel so empty inside? In spite of the vibrant prescense of the world around him, how can he be so lonely? Does the shell of his body repel substance like a magnet? Or is he just too passive, too mute to attain pages to fill the chronicle of his life?

Get a grip, man. Just go to sleep and quit whining. Go on and actually live your life.

Tunes: "Acoustic #3", Goo Goo Dolls; "Black Hole Sun", Soundgarden.

I hadn't realized how far sucked into Ultimate Frisbee I was until ETHS had a five-day weekend. it's been over four days since I've played, and I'm suffering withdrawal.

I've been cleaning my room, and have come across some mementos of times long past. Lots of associative memories to wade through.

And speaking of memories, I had lunch yesterday with a munch of my choir friends, and we looked through about eight rolls of film from the England/France tour. And now, I've blocked out how abysmally maddening some people were there! Only happy memories now ^_^

I want to leave you with a quote that's been stuck in my head for a few days:

"People worry about kids playing with guns, and teenagers watching violent videos; we are scared that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands--literally thousands--of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and loss. The unhappiest people I know, romantically speaking, are the ones who like pop music the most; and I don't know whether pop music has caused this unhappiness, but I do know that they've been listening to the sad songs longer than they've been living the unhappy lives."
--Nick Hornby, High Fidelity

Tunes: "Manic Monday", The Bangles; "Come Sail Away", Eric Cartman; "Iris", Goo Goo Dolls; "You're So 1988", Epperley.

A couple nights ago, I went with Tim and Tyler to Nevin's Live, a small venue tacked onto the side of a local pub, for a rock show. It was quite an experience. Only about 40 people came, and the place is set up so that you walk right up to the stage, which stands around hip height. First up were the Rebel Angels, who had a cool rock sound with a distinct country vibe to it. Then the Rebel Angels came off the stage and hung out with the crowd, and the Lost City Angels took the stage. They sent out a heavy barrage of punk/garage rock. Then they came down to be with us too and Autopilot Off came on, with somewhat mellower yet fast rock. After they struck the stage, Tim, Tyler, some groupies we met there (Hi Emma!) and I hung out out front with Bill, Jonny, Duggan, Nik, and Chris (see, I'm on a first-name basis with them ^_^), talking about baseball, the punk rock scenes in various cities, and watching a very drunk Nik flirting outrageously with strangers. All in all, a very satisfying time.

Oh, yeah. We rock.

Woot.

Tunes: "Lady Killer", The Vandals.

I'm just home, having spent a great weekend at BloggerCon. Saturday night was spent out with Kevin, Joey, Joi, Boris, and Aaron. After much carousing, watching of the Sox game, and listening to Joey play his famed accordion ("Hit Me Baby One More Time"), I called it a night and went back to my hotel until the next morning, when Dad and I hit the convention. Our first stop was Halley's case study, which led a nice discussion. Then it was time for Dad's presentation on spirituality, which went well also. We stopped for a cheap pizza lunch, then met back for Joi's community discussion, complete with an IRC window on a projection screed and Halley Stealth Discoing Joi while he was talking. We wrapped up with Dave Winer talking about next year, and stopped off at Peet's for tea, coffee, and more accordion music. We crashed wih Checkers, Steve, and Sage, and just today made our uneventful flight back home, from where I blog to you now. It was great to go, meet lots of wonderful people, and hear interesting discussions and panels, but it really is good to be home.

Tunes: "Welcome To Chicago", Kill Hannah.

First and foremost, I want to send a shoutout to all my teammates on the Evanston Ultimate team who are going to Madison tomorrow for the frisbee tournment. Go forth, kick cheesehead derriére, and think of me.

Secondly, the conference has been going well, all things considered. Last night was disappointing at first, because I got bounced from the Rock The Blogosphere party, being underage and all. However, I was soon rescued by Dad, Halley, and Chris, and we went off to go hang with Joi. Today, after a keynote where our host was compared to Socrates, the journalism panel kicked off with some quite amusing introductions, such as Glenn Reynolds, "the Dirk Diggler of hit count" who gets "more hits than Adam Curry in an Amsterdam coffeehouse". The panel (Ed Cone, Glenn Reynolds, Josh Marshall, and Scott Rosenberg) raised some interesting questions, such as whether or not bloggers should get the same constitutional pretection as professional journalists. We then moved on to the education panel, with Lance Knobel, my Dad (AKMA Adam), Pat Delaney, Jenny Levine, Kaye Trammel, and Brian Weatherson. While tackling topics like how blogs are used in the classroom, I had my 15 seconds of fame as I stood for the mike and responded to another commentor, saying that while blogging students should not be put down by being told that nobody will read their blog, a certain amount of perspective should be taught. As such, I myself feel quite proud to reach my 15 or so daily hits, even though I don't reach other's standards. I received applause and laughter throughout, and afterwards people came up to me and complimented my blog, which just gives me warm fuzzies all over. We stopped for lunch before coming back to hear the Cluetrain panel, with Chris Lydon, Jim Moore, Doc Searls, Elizabeth Spiers, and Adam Curry, which brings me up to the present, as the political panel (Dave Winer, Mathew Gross, Joe Jones, Cameron Barret)is starting. For more details on the goings-on, try the BloggerCon site, and from there you can link to some of the several other attendees who are doing a much better job of recording the day's events than I.

Third, I apologize to all who couldn't reach my site earlier, the server apparently was having some downtime.

Tunes: "Always", Saliva; "Takeoffs and Landings", The Ataris; "Pills", New York Dolls; "Deer Dance", System of a Down.

My beeping watch awoke me, and as I thrashed my way out of my sheets to turn the infernal noise off, a single thought went through my head. Oh, no, not already. But, I managed to stay awake long enough to shower and get everything out the door to meet our cab at just before 5. The cab ride, while frightening (even I can stay in my lane reliably), was largely uneventful, and airport security went very smoothly, as did the flight. Dad and I made our way along the T to our hotel, where we went our seperate ways: Dad went off to lunch and schmooze with other notable bloggers, and Steve Himmer gave me a guided tour of Emerson, which looks like a top contender on my List O' Colleges. And now, I write to you, dear reader, from the Hotel @ MIT, which is geek haven. They even inlaid circuit boards into the dresser. I mean, come on. So that's what's happened so far. In a couple of hours Dad and I will head out to the Rock The Blogosphere party, which should prove interesting. Until then!

Tunes: "Rollin", Limp Bizkit; "All Apologies", Nirvana; "Name", Goo Goo Dolls.

I've been out walking
I don't do too much talking
These days, these days.
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to.
I've stopped my rambling,
I don't do too much gambling
These days, these days.
These days I seem to think about
How all the changes came about my ways
And I wonder if I'll see another highway.
I had a lover,
I don't think I'll risk another
These days, these days.
And if I seem to be afraid
To live the life that I have made in song
It's just that I've been losing so long.
La la la la la, la la.
I've stopped my dreaming,
I won't do too much scheming
These days, these days.
These days I sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten.
Please don't confront me with my failures,
I had not forgotten them.

"These Days", Nico.

Some of these you may have seen before, but I'm sharing them anyway. Just some amusing and disturbing pictures to lighten your day. ^_^

Tunes: "Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll", Ian Dury and the Blockheads; "From Now On", Kill Hannah; "Candy (Vocal Mix)", Riyu Kosaka.

For starters, here, I'm going to list a few things about trust. Trust is kind of like a house. Trust has to be built, trust needs support to be maintainted, trust can strengthen, weaken and even be broken. Now, normally when I tihnk about trust, it is in relation to other people or things. Can I trust X person to carry out this task? Can I trust this book not to fall apart? But recently I've called into question my relationship of trust with myself. How much can I trust Si to do? Can I trust myself to do the tasks I've set? Can I trust this tangled mess of logic, emotion, and instinct to carry me through life and land me on my feet? I hope so. But then, hope is not the same as trust. How do you regain trust-- in yourself?

I just wrote a beautiful angsty-turning-happy piece in here, and accidentally closed my browser window. I'm too frustrated to try again, so I'm throwing in something I wrote a while ago.

The drums reverberated in the distance, sounding their cold, heartless march, carrying an overtone of death and despair. Jason looked around the ramshackle walls surrounding the village he called home and closed his eyes in hopelessness. He and his neighbors had never considered the threat of invasion. They had always lived peacefully, working and plying their trades. The town was a ways off any main routes, and as such didn't see many visitors. Those who did come were welcomed with open arms and full tankards. It had been a wonderful, peaceful, productive life. Until the survivors came. There were three of them, all starved, exhausted, and scared within an inch of their lives. One of them was insane: gibbering unintelligably, and shying away when others came near; The other two were all too coherent, if worn to the bone. The story they told was a frightening one, a tale of an army, at least three or four thousand soldiers, raging across the land, burning and killing, not stopping to pillage and steal, seemingly intent only on destruction. Jason didn't believe the story at first; he could barely imagine that many people in one place at all, let alone organized as an army. But the somber faces of the villagers as they reinforced their houses and walls soon convinced him that the danger was real. and now, scant days after the newcomers had arrived and taken lodging at Aaron Cahey's house, they could hear the ominous drums and pounding feet that signaled their impending nightmare. Jason curled up, sitting in a fetal position, burying his head in his knees. The candle at his feet shivered and wavered with each beat, before giving a final sputter and dying. Just like he was about to. Give out one final sputter, then burn out, leaving a light cloud of smoke as the only memorial of his being. So be it, then. He listens to the echoing drums and waits, preparing for his turn to give one last burst of flame.

Tunes: "Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye", Annie Lennox; "Horseshoes", Moxy Früvous; "Fields of Gold", Eva Cassidy.

What do you do when, with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball, something comes and destroys one of the supporting pillars of your life? Do you stiffen, resolving to keep a straight face through adversity? Or do you break down, crying in despair and insecurity? The Buddha's first universal truth is impermanence. Nothing is immune to change, no matter how desperately we cling to it. At the risk of sounding redundant, the Buddha was a really smart guy.

Tunes: "No Shelter", Rage Against The Machine; "Crawling", Linkin Park; "Danny Boy", Black 47. (Scroll down a ways)

EDIT: What do you do when you find you're wrong, and you take a step back and see that it's still there, and you're still whole?

So yeah, the school year is here, and one of my first assignments was to write some character essays on the movie of The Count of Monte Cristo. And I figured I could get some decent blog milage (bloggage?) out of them, so here you go. Yes, there are kind of spoilers, but I'm guessing the vast majority of you know the story outline anyway.

The priest is an intriguing character, if for no other reason that so little is known of him. He was a soldier before turning to religion and academics, he says, and appears to be a human incarnation of faith and patience. Confronted with his sin, he claims "I'm a priest, not a saint." But is it true? What defines a saint? Surely his undying resolution and conviction while faced with over a decade of loneliness, degradation, and pain must be considered saintly, along with his dutiful guidance of Edmond to a higher path in an attempt to give Edmond the tools to make something of his life beyond the revenge that has driven all else out. When faced with edmond denying belief in God, the priest merely smiles and says "It does not matter. He believes in you." The sheer level of acceptance shown there is awe-inspiring. He is content to die, having faith in God and in Edmond.

Jacopo's character seemed too buffoonish and clownish, fitting far too closely into the stereotype of the Bumbling Ethnic Sidekick. This detracts from the deeper, more resolute side of his character that we see in the carriage scene, where he reiterates his promise to protect Edmond, even from himself. In a very real sense, he embodies several of Edmond's good aspects (such as loyalty, faith, and reason) that Edmond appears to have lost touch with, as we see from the Count's argument with Mercedes: "If you truly love me, do not rob me of my hate. It is all I have left".

Even faced with a totally neglectful father and wonderful father figure, Albert takes the shattering of his life's illusion way too readily, and is far too accepting. Perhaps by that point Albert had already accepted Edmond's replacement of Ferdnand as a father, given the birthday toast, but when Albert learns the truth, he seems on the verge of mild tears, not what one might expect from a spoiled, paternally abused teenager. During the final climactic duel, Albert attempts to rush into the fray, but is held back by Jacopo. As such, Albert's intentions are left unclear, and only after Ferdnand lies dead do we see any overt sign of grief from Albert, as he falls to his knees and weeps before the man he knew as his father. The grief does not appear to last, however, as in the following scene, which takes place a scant three months after, Albert is seen smiling at and hugging his birth father, appearing not to blame him for Ferdnand's death or turning his world upside-down.

Many congratulations are in order, as two good friends of mine have just yesterday promised themselves to each other. Tripp and Trish, all the best.

We've been going together
Too long to be vague
When there's something to say
If it's not now then it's never
So I'll say it straight out
'Cause I have no doubt, no doubt

Let's get married
I love you and I want to stay with you
Let's get married
Have kids and grow old and grey with you
Let's get married
Hold hands, walk in the park
Let's get married

We know other people
Who drifted apart
Who broke each other's hearts
But we ain't other people
So we'll do things our way
We're gonna be okay
We're gonna be more than okay

Let's get married
We're ready for tying the knot
Let's get married
Set the seal on the feelings we've got
Let's get married
We can make each other happy or we can make each other blue
Yeah, it's just a piece of paper, but it it says, "I love you."
For the good times
For the days when we can do no wrong
For the bad times
For the moments when we think we can't go on
For the family
For the lives of the children that we've planned
Let's get married
C'mon darlin', please take my hand

And I'll be the one
Who's by your side
I'll be the one
Still taking pride
When we're old if they ask me,
"How do you define success?"
I'll say, "You meet a woman
You fall in love
You ask her and
She says, `Yes.'"

let's get married
I love and I want to stay with you
Let's get married
Have kids and grow old and grey with you
Let's get married
Hold hands when we walk in the park
All right, you can get a cat, just as long as it barks
For the good times
For the days when we can do no wrong
For the bad times
For the moments when we think we can't go on
For the family
For the lives of the children that we've planned
Let's get married
C'mon darlin', please take my hand

"Let's Get Married", The Proclaimers.

Yesterday I bought a CD, the first I've bought in quite a long time (since last August, if memory serves). It's a used copy of BoogadaBoogadaBoogada! by Screeching Weasel. I find it interesting that the only CD I've bought all year is a) 15 years old, b) used, and therefore provides no direct profit for the RIAA, and c) by a band that (while they were still together) sang offensive lyrics aimed at the major players in the music industry at the time. Anyway, if any you enjoy a sort of 80's underground punk sound, some songs to look up off of this album are Stupid Over You, a song about celebrity crushes; Sunshine, encouraging you to be happy; I Wanna Be Naked, extolling the joys of nudity; Holy Hardcore, proving that Christianity and being a punk aren't mutually exclusive; and Hey Suburbia, another feel-good party song. Share and enjoy! ^_^

I've had my share of mood swings, but generally all is well. I had some friends over for a teen B-horror movie night (Jeepers Creepers), and saw The Order on Friday, and acolyted at Bill and Susan's wedding on Saturday, which went extremely smoothly. On Sunday, I hung out with my friend Adrian who taught me to pay God Save The Queen on the guitar (the Sex Pistols version, that is). And there's not much else, after frisbee and Drama class auditions (still haven't heard results yet).

Also, as a response to Tripp's image of the Lord's Prayer in Klingon, I offer this humble work: the Brick Testament.

Tunes: "All My Best Friends Are Metalheads", Less Than Jake; "Gummi Bears", Suburban Legends; "Three Days Later", FM Static.

I ride my bike to and from my frisbee practice. I'm stiff and achy and tired, but wow it feels good. ^_^ Can't wait till next spring, when most of the inter-high school games happen. Until then, I'm straightening out my forehand and enjoying the feel of working my body until my shirt is damp with sweat and my throat is dry and begs for water.

Tunes: "I Want Your Sex Pootie", Big T and the Oaktones; "Girl Eyes", Eve 6.

It's wet and grey and iffy out. There's really not much to do on a day like this. I mean, sure there are things I CAN do, but the atmosphere that comes with a day like this leeches my energy and sends me spiraling into apathy. I look out the window, searching for some sign that the clouds will part and the sunlight will pour through, illuminating the landscape and my life, but as far as I can see, there are only shades of grey. That's all there ever is, really. Shades of grey. Life is too complex to fall into the sharp contrast of black and white. I turn from the window, grab my wallet and leave the house. I don't know where I'm going, but it's helpful to have some sense of motion, if not direction. Droplets of rain fall occasionally on my face, feeling almost like tears as they run. I feel a sudden warmth, and glance up to see a small hole in the sheet of grey, blazing forth light-- which quickly disappears back into the mottled uniformity of the sky. Dejected, I continue my aimless march. Hope may spring eternal, but despair is very thirsty. Very thirsty.