We were a ragtag bunch: five from ETHS, one from Higland Park High, three from Rockford Lutheran, and yours truly. I had 9-10 hours on the road to get to know the ones I hadn't met before, and by the time we arrived, we were all pretty tight. The location was absolutely beautiful. Set on a large hill in the Laurel Highlands of Pennsylvania, there were terraced fields with woods at the top and a large pavilion with a fireplace... It was as if I had arrived in a sort of Ultimate Frisbee Eden. We set off into our games with loads of enthusiasm. While we didn't end up winning any of our games, we all had fun, and ended each game with quickl made-up cheers for the other team, including an adaptation of "Breakfast at Tiffany's": "And I said what about Ultimate Frisbee/She said I think I remember the game/And as I recall I think we both kinda liked it/And I said well that's one thing we've got". There also many zany antics, such as when Sam picked Biz up and dropped her into a sizeable mud puddle, and she jumped up and chased him around and back into said puddle, and then there was the impromptu human pyramid that we actually managed to complete. As a result of our pep, graceful sportsmanship, and the fact that we just totally rock, we were unanimously rated to win the Spirit of the Game award, which just happened to be the biggest trophy they had. ^_^ There were only two real downers to the trip. First, I was stupid and allowed myself to get a moderately nasty sunburn, and second, some small group for players snuck out to the rope course on the camp's property and vandalized the living daylights out of it. Ropes were cut, furniture was thrown, the works. And, since noone had the cojones to take responsibility for their actions, everyone had to chip in to pay for damages, and we most likely won't be able to HAVE a tournament there next year. Grr. But, overall, I had a great time, and I wish all the best to Sam, Greg, Drake, Val, Phil, Biz, Dan, Grant, and Chris, otherwise known as Team ILL. ICE COLD!!!

Tomorrow morning, seven of my compatriots and I will climb into our vehicles and journey across four states to the Know-Swill 2004 Ultimate Frisbee juniors tournament in Ligonier, PA. For those of you that need thing to occupy your time this weekend, you can check live scoring from the website linked to above. Go ETHS!!!

The frisbee sped through the air, spinning forward, as both my defender and I moved in to intercept it. But as we neared our point of reception, it started slipping and veered right-- just behind us. I ground my feet to a halt, twisted around to my right, and caught the disc with my left hand behind my back, and landed on my right hand, propping myself up with my back arched in the air. Booya.

A comment from my old site has prompted me to write this request, to you, my readers: If you're going to rail angrily against me, contradict everything I opined, and tell me that you "don't think that my scenario is very well worked out", then please, at least back up your OWN argument so I can explain my side of the argument more clearly. Simply saying "you're wrong and I'm right" doesn't leave me with a whole lot to work with except a not-so-favorable opinion of you. Thank you for your time.

Kinda bummed and not thinking clearly, so I dredged up some depressing poetry from my archives for your edification. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Random tears come cascading down My face, flowing fast, with no sound Except that of my whimp'ring voice Moaning, not from some conscious choice But from some inner unknown cause That racks my body without pause And makes me think of my old dreams Of darkened sunlight, casting beams Of shadow, ice cold, and lifeless 'Til weak and frightened, I confess Sin after sin, thus exposing My heart and my decomposing Soul that rots from such base misuse And I scream for someone to loose This harsh foul spiritual chain That binds me close to all the pain That I have long inflicted on So many that by now have gone Before me out into the great Unfathomable plane where hate And love no longer need compete For those that live there are complete But I can only pour out my Tears and hoarsely beg to know why I have forever been denied But noone answers; I have tried Time and again, but now the deep Emptiness calls me down to sleep To dream again of those places Where pain mars not people's faces But polishes their gleaming eyes As they bask in their paradise.

So, this is my new place. I like it. I like it a lot. Kudos to the Tucows Blogware crew, great interface. I've only encountered one thing that tripped me up, which was quickly and easily explained to me by Joey, who also said he'd look into tweaking the interface so it wouldn't be a problem in the future. Now the only problem left is filling the space. I'm only using a miniscule fraction of the space I have alloted. I think I'm going to need to get busy with my camera. ^_^

"I come from a lost generation and am comfortable only in the company of others who are lost and lonely."

Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum

This book is really amazingly incredible. It also totally kicks The DaVinci Code's derrière. The relationship between the two books is like the relationship between John and Jim Belushi. John was a genius, and did amazing things. Jim tries to be John and sucks at it. Foucault not only has a great storyline and well-built characters, but Eco actually did his research and got his facts straight. Dan Brown quite probably did some research... but not nearly enough. It makes so much difference.

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Always listen to the experts. They'll tell you what can't be done, and why. Then do it.

-Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough For Love

Driving on one's own can be quite relaxing. Now, I could just be feeling that way because until quite recently, I had to drive with someone in the seat next to me, scrutinizing my performance, and I'm just experiencing the absense of supervision. But I feel that something about having the actions of your body having different reactions, and merging with the vehicle has a slight inherent rush to it. You are no longer just a human, you become a part of the car, and each twitch of your extremities makes a difference. Or, perhaps more to the point, the car becomes a part of you. (For my parent's sake, I'd like to point out that I am not enthusing over a power trip, just noting how a car can provide some escape from oneself's restrictions.)

I know I need to wite stuff in here, but, for the moment at least, I'm having trouble finding words to express myself. I'll post more when inspiration hits.

Having the phone wake you up only to find that the caller is an automated telemarketing message is NOT the best way to start off your morning.

I've been in a kind of Purgatorial state recently. The daily routine things I do are emotionally exhausting for some reason, and as much as I'd like to break the cycle and branch out, I'm having trouble mustering the energy. So I end up in a drab grey, nothing actively wrong but not being able to achieve the good.

w00t.

Got my driver's license this morning. The picture's not too dorky. Feeling good.

Thanks ever so much to everyone who contributed towards my 25 hours of accompanied driving time, and I know it felt like 50, but thanks for sticking with me.

I've recently found a couple old CDs that I used to love years ago, Emotional Rollercoaster and Be Political, Not Polite. Ron Romanovsky and Paul Phillips wrote and recorded these albums in the late 80's-early 90's, and they are still as captivating and relevant now as they were then and when I first listened to them in the mid-90's (and kept on listening. They're fairly worn now). These albums are a constant testament to the undying determination of these men to stand up for their sexual identity, their rights, and HIV/AIDS awareness. This emphasis is present throughout the albums. While specific songs have their own moods, from humorous ("Oh No, I'm In Love...," "Tango Indigesto") to melancholy ("Red Moon Over Boston," "When I Look Into Your Eyes"), many of the tracks are primarily political, with rousing choruses such as "No False Hope" and "Be On The Safe Side," and some that come as blunt as a hammer, such as "The Sodomy Song." And, just as important as the messages these songs convey, it's just plain good music. With well-crafted vocal harmonies, various instrumental accompaniments and well-written lyrics ("Now I try to learn to call you my ex-lover/But how do you ex-love someone?"), these are albums that deserve a place in the collection of any music lover who isn't scared to be vocal about their support of gay and lesbian rights and lifestyles.

Human beings are so woefully inadequate to the expectations that are put upon us-- even though we are the ones that set those expectations.

Joy, beauty, and happiness are all ways of forgetting all the other stupid crap we're dealing with. Ignorance is bliss.

The cost of individuality is loneliness. Because we are all different, there is noone exactly like you, and you are alone in yourself. The path out of loneliness is recognition that that which makes us different is also what we have in common. Because we are ALL unique, what makes us different also makes us the same.

There's a page in my copy of Zen Comics that has amused me since I was little. The comic tells the story of four monks who went into a temple to observe a three-day silent fast. On the first two days, everything went smoothly. On the third day, however, the first monk asked one of the others to light a lamp. The second replied, "Ssh! We're supposed to be silent!" The third then rebuked the second, saying, "Fool! Why did YOU say anything?" The fourth, quite pleased with himself, said, "Look at you three! I'm the only one who didn't say anything!" Well, I'm not taking three days, but tomorrow I am observing the GLSEN Day of Silence, hoping that in doing so I can show solidarity with my gay, lesbian, transgendered, and bisexual sisters and brothers who do not have the wonderfully supportive environment that I do. So please, to make my task a little simpler, please don't phone me tomorrow. ^_^

Listening to The Miserable Offenders, and realizing how much I miss singing.

There's a guy who lives a couple blocks down from here in a dead-end alleyway. I'd often pass him at his usual panhandling spot in front of the little sushi restaurant down on Oak street. He's a nice guy, I've chatted with him a couple times, and given him change when I've had it. It made me feel good for doing A Good Thing, and it seemed to cheer him up to have the money and conversation. Anyway, one night a few months ago, a buddy of mine from work, a regular smoker, had just been diagnosed wth lung cancer, and the prospects didn't look good. As a result, I was in a pretty depressed mood when I passed by the sushi house on my way home that evening. "Hey man, what's wrong?" The panhandler was looking at me quizzically, with his head cocked to one side. Wearily, I half waved my arm at him and mumbled something about not having any change, and kept walking. He wouldn't have any of that, though. He came up right alongside me and put his hand on my shoulder. "No, man, I mean you. What's wrong? You look like you ought to be in bed." I tried to find the words to tell him that I really didn't want to go over it, especially not with him-- but then I realized that I deperately did, that I needed to unburden myself, and that I couldn't to my friends or co-workers or family because they all knew too much backstory, and that made it too complicated, and I looked over into his face, his dirty, bedraggled, wanly smiling face, and he already knew. He nodded, then patted my shoulder and said, "Nothing can bring you peace but yourself." I just stood there, staring blankly, as he walked to his perch and went back to holding out a paper cup at the passerby. I watched for a minute, then numbly walked home and collapsed on the bed, stretched out with my eyes wide open, and remained that way until morning.

I still pass by him on my daily commute, still comment on what kind of year the Red Sox are having, still drop change into his paper cup. The difference is, now there's a smile in his eyes, recognizing the good work he's done in me. I no longer see him as an object of my charity. He's a friend, and a connection and bond in an uncertain world.

(Insightful quote courtesy of my somewhat distant relation, Ralph Waldo Emerson.)

By now, I'm home, and (mostly) set in my normal routine, which now, I am happy to say, involves a Dance Dance Revolution set in the basement. A couple of rounds on the dance mats every day is fun and good exercise. The game actually has a "Workout Mode", but I'm sweating enough in the standard game, and I'm too scared to try. Anyway, It's good to be home, and I'm gonna start doing some more creative writing in here again, probably some third-person narrative prose, maybe some verse here and there.

Tunes: "Long-Forgotten Fairytale", The Magnetic Fields.

I've been staying out of the crossfire so far in the BLX wars, but the time comes in every man's life when he's gotta take a stand for what he believes in. So here's to BLX 2.0, the way God intended BLX to be. Also, I'm all about the O-BLX: Open UR BLX movement. Remember: BLX wants to be free.

I'm forsaking my usual sleeping hours to start off on a venture out East in the early morning. Pippa is visiting her friend back in Jersey, and I'm taking advantage of the trip to visit a couple of colleges on my list, Sarah Lawrence and Goucher. I've been doing college research for a while, but it wasn't until tonight that the import of what I'm doing struck me. I'm laying the groundwork for a life away from what I've known. I'm taking steps to ensure that my time living with my family is limited. And one of the scariest things is that I can recognize something inside of me that is embracing this new upheaval and fresh start. There is still a faction that craves and loves the warmth and comfort of family life, though. The result of this is that my mind is playing tug-of-war with my thoughts and feelings; I am being stretched out, being pulled in opposite directions with such force that I worry that I will tear. All of this leaves me with the feeling that I don't know what I really want, tinged with vague despair. I'm trying not to dwell too much on it, though. Once again, there is an appropriate quote from Dune: "A process cannot be understood by stopping it. Understanding must move with the flow of the process, must join it and flow with it."

Tunes: "Yellow", Coldplay (iTMS); "What To Do", OK Go (iTMS); "Body Parts", Jump Little Children (iTMS).

Have I mentioned that I love Canada?

This prayer is posted on a billboard inside Immanuel Lutheran Church, where my drama class rehearses, and I thought many others would appreciate it, expecially some of my seminarian friends.

Dear God,

So far today, I'm doing all right. I have not gossiped, lost my temper, been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish, or self-indulgent. I have not whined, complained, cursed, or waten any chocolate. I have charged nothing on my credit cards.

But I'll be getting out of bed in a minute, and I think that I will really need your help then.

I'm done. I'm done! I'm done, I'm done: I am done. I'm done (I'm done), I'm done. Done am I.

I finished my SATs. Can you tell?

What do these both have in common? They're both really foul and rank and rancid and I could go on but I'm trying to get a hold of myself here. It absolutely disgusts me that people would stoop as low as to plaster ads for prescription pills and porn and viagra and what-have-you on someone else's personal website. And, it's not even enough that I have to clean out each day's batch of comment spam, but they've started leaving personal notes in the same comment as their advertisments telling me that my *expletive deleted* genitalia isn't big enough! If you actualy do like my site, then don't leave *expletive deleted* spam in my *expletive deleted* comments!!!

OK, I'm breathing deeply and naturally again, and I need to go to bed, because I have a long day tomorrow. SATs first thing in the morning, and driving up to Milwaukee in the evening for the Aussie Invasion Tour feat. The Vines, Jet, The Living End, and Neon.

(Last night's post, continued. Spoilers.) One of the major issues that I could relate to (quite well, actually, being an adolescent) was coming to grips with who and what you are, where you are in life, and accepting that. I also appreciated that Hedwig realizes that, while Tommy is her "other half", she doesn't necessarily have to be with him to be complete within herself. Just recognizing him for what he is is enough for her to be able to move on. Through the movie, I felt mostly sympathy and pity for Hedwig. Only at the end is there some mysterious hope that she will be able to find independant purpose and meaning for her life.

Tunes: "Origin of Love" (iTMS), "Angry Inch" (iTMS), "Wicked Little Town (Tommy)" (iTMS), "Wig in a Box" (iTMS), Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

I just watched Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and still haven't come to grips with a lot of it. It's a really amazing movie, but I'm just trying to fit all the pieces into place. AMAZING soundtrack. I'll post more when I understand my thoughts a little more clearly.

Call it fate, call it artistic differences, call it whatever you will... I'm out of the band.

Celebrating St. Paddy's Day by going out to see One Of The Girls tonight, should be good fun. In the spirit of High Fidelity, I'm listing my top five favorite Irish songs of all time.

1. Finnegan's Wake
2. Funky Ceili
3. Irish Drinking Song
4. The Night Pat Murphy Died
5. Fields of Athenry

There was a moment, last night, of sheer, euphoric joy. All the blood, sweat and tears we'd poured out in rehearsal and on stage had just been paid back in full, with interest. Tonight will seem somewhat anticlimactic in comparison (of course, I say that now. As soon as I hit backstage...). And, to top it all off, I got to see Liz Phair performing live today. Things are looking up.

Well, tonight's opening night for the production of The Crucible that I'm in, not that there's any PRESSURE or anything. I'm gonna be speanding about 10 hours at the perfomance space today, so this promises to be quite a long and tiring day. Here's hoping it's a satisfactory one too.

P.S. For those of you whom I've forgotten to give information to, or if you're a blogger hapening to be in the Chicago area, the show starts at 7pm, at Edgebrook Community Church, 6736 N. Loleta Ave, Chicago. Admission is free, so come on down.