I think about you, Everyday.

My recent postings, specifically the lack thereof, is due to my insignificant life for the moment.
This is not a bad thing, it is rather glorious.
I don't have many daily responsibilities. Sometimes the most decisions I make in a day is what I want to eat.

I, unlike a lot of people I know, don't mind sitting around without something to motivate me.
Which isn't to say I am unmotivated. Rather, that I am quite capable of enjoying relaxation.
I've always believed that stress relief was on of my spiritual gifts.

I will keep this deliriously short. Hyperbole intended.
A song: Evanescence's "My Immortal", sung in Gregorian chant style.

Why I love goodbye's

I saw a list the BBC made of 100 books, they expected most people had read around 6.
I had read twenty two. And there were three that I had started, but not finished.

My parents watch old people movies, and I fear being able to relate to them.
I don't really feel afraid that often. But I have a lot of fears.
I don't think that makes sense the way I want it to.
I have good emotional control, but I have a relentless and intense imagination.
its all self inflicted.

I feel old constantly. Like i've somehow been through a lot.
But I'll often feel like a child.

SHIFTING GEARS.
although, perhaps not as badly as I had first thought.

it still stems from fears,
when I was young I was just as fearful as I am now, only I had no control over it.
In high school I had a volatile fear of being bullied, or at least messed with. I hated it, and didn't know how to respond to it.
In essence, I couldn't handle it.
So i worked on formulating ways to deal with it. I was frivolous and inane to the point of idiocy. It was a comedic cover up, that I believed has ended up in my peculiar sense of humor that I have today.
I also started to form a very aggressive, rough exterior.
I was cruel and rude.
I learned to perfect it, and now I have an unavoidable brusque extraversion that I think in no way resembles who I am.

Theres a lot to say on either the sillyness I once displayed forming part of my current sense of humor, or my insecurities creating a gruff effigy.
God, thank you for synonyms and the beauty of Language.

I need to work on my poem for describing what its like to think the way that I do.
Its very hard to describe.
I need to finish this 10 page research paper on Knights and why they made good crusaders.
I need to start my 6 page paper comparing Aristotle and Plato.

I need to remain chilllllll.
I wish I could draw.

A song: Mastodon - Naked Burn
I know no one listens to these. I guess I do it for myself.
Don't wait on me.

with all the force of a great typhoon

I have been fairly uninspired as of late to codify my thoughts.

I've been busy. I have a paper due in less than a week that I have barely researched. I have all my sources for it, ten secondary/primary sources is quite a lot, but fortunately I have a lot of books on medieval history from previous classes. So I just had to find a good topic within the parameter of the sources I already own.
This prompted me to write on, again, Knights.
So I'm addressing how lots of crusaders were knights, and what it was about knights that made them good crusaders. Dr. Hoffman should eat this stuff up.
I'll probably end up churning it out fully some time this weekend, as I have a lot of stuff during weekdays.

For instance, I am presenting a paper at Hess-Thompson. Non history majors don't fully understand what this entails. So I will briefly describe it.
Straightforward: You write a research paper, (10-15 pages usually), with a lot of sources (8+ books/articles) on a specific topic. You then forget about this paper for between 1 to 2 years when you realize it is the only thing of worth you had written in that time, and have to present something for the colloquium.
The History department strongly encourages students to participate in these presentations, because it looks great on a resume or vitae. Basically, grad school or other program officials are like, hey this guy spoke in front of an audience presenting his or her own research, that's quite professional of him or her!

So you grudgingly stand in front of an audience who is only in attendance because their professors offered a few points extra credit and they were too lazy to study properly for exams, but not lazy enough to waste an hour and a half of their time daydreaming while other people speak.

So, yeah. Its a relatively big deal. No one cares about it unfortunately.
Last semester I presented my paper, "Pirates and Torture, it's not all keelhauling and walking the plank". Which has a very eye catching and seemingly interesting title. So of the three or four rooms with papers being presented mine had over 40 people in it probably. As opposed to the like ten or twelve in the other rooms.
The logic of the students being, if i have to sit through a boring paper, it might as well be about something sort of violent.


I suddenly realize this is the most boring story ever.
Longer story shorter: I have important pressing matters.
On top of it all, I have to finish up observing for my methods class. 30 Hours of observation is a lot when you have to fit it into an already confined timeframe.

I'll finish this week though I think, but i'll be sad to end it actually. I've enjoyed waking up at 7 AM on MWF to go watch high school kids learn about the industrial revolution and WWI.
I can't wait to actually start teaching.

I was so scared for the longest time that I wouldn't end up enjoying teaching. But I am very relieved to say that I highly anticipate enjoying and thriving in the profession.
So, that is one possible major life crisis averted successfully.


This blog could turn into a novella of what I want to do with my degree, (all like five current options I am considering) Five is actually a lot. Like, I could teach middle school while getting my masters at night over a period of years, or go straight to grad school somewhere else, etc. Or go over seas to study, which I legitimately consider.

So for posterity's sake, I will end this awful, boring, mental-vomiting, verbal excretion that is this blog.

Per usual, a song that I feel fits my mood and my time: Strutter - KISS
(ignore the bizarre-ness of KISS, and this song is amazing.)

I believe. What if I believe you?

It's improper for a male to play house or dress up as a child.
I spent all of my time wrestling with my brother, digging in dirt, playing with action figures, and building with legos.

All i've ever wanted out of life was to be a good father.
I have no motivation stemming from bad parenting, my father has been wonderful. I couldn't ask for a better role model. I can't specify where it comes from. Although my personality type is INFJ 'the protector'.

I've never felt a calling in the realm of a professional vocation. I don't know what this means.
An Aside:
Why am I in college (if I don't have a professional vocation)? easy. I love learning. Knowledge brings edification of the soul. Education isn't my job, its my hobby, and one I cherish.
Freshman gateway taught me that my biggest strength was Input. oh man. I just busted that out. for serious.
I interpret input as learning, I like to learn. I watch TV shows that teach me things. I love facts. I love history.

The one thing I've felt as an omnipresent fact of my life is 'Be a good father'.
What does that mean for me though? It scares me to consider it too deeply. I worry I'll never find love (a requirement of mine for marriage {A requirement of mine for children}).
I don't think it's necessary for the children to be my own. I can adopt, i'd even do it alone.
I've also kind of thought that I've had a.. rather large reservoir of love, and no outlet for it, so i've subdued it, or distorted it. Another worry. Sometimes I feel like I've forsaken God's role as a father figure in my life.
I'm sorry father.

Perhaps my purpose or intent for something like this is to teach middle school and use my 'be a good father' in that realm. Teachers are authority figures, and in many cases ( i think), act as parent figures.
I could be satisfied with life if all I could do was positively impact students lives during one of the most difficult periods of personal transition (emotional, chemical, physical, mental), which is middle school, that a human being goes through.
I don't know how any of this will or should play out. I don't know if I'm not trusting enough, or if I'm not being proactive enough in my own life.
All I really know is that there is too much for me to know, and that I can't understand any of it.

A simple rambling I wrote.. probably over a year ago, it is written to God, I guess, I think I had the original idea (that I never pursued more than this like... 30 second taken to write scrawling) that I should write it to my parents. I'd always kind of wanted to refine it, make it more.. poetic and less ugly, and expound on it a little bit more.

I can’t blame all my problems on you

You did your best, and it was enough.

You protected me from a weary world

That would prove to fail me more

Than I have failed my self.

So God I pray to you tonight

Make me clean and keep me right

My body forsakes me, give my soul respite.

I wonder if I'm not properly praising God. Thanking him enough, or in the right way.

I used to berate myself because every time I would pray, I started with an apology.

I don't know if this is wrong or not, sometimes it feels prudent. I think it always feels prudent. 

Forgive me, Father.

forgive me

(For some reason my atypical typing symbol of this blog was the parenthesis, I used them like six times... the hell?)

A song: Flyleaf- The Kind.

I lead no armies, I command nothing save myself, and not always that.

I am lost in my own mind.

I found a favorite artist: Renee Nault.
I have never really been sure about watercolor, but she makes it feel unique.
She does a lot of nature, animals, and mythology. Its a recipe for my loving it.

I just remembered that I am supposed to write reflections for each class session (there is one a week) for my Teaching Social Studies class, and I haven't written one since the middle of september. So I am on catch up mode. Fortunately I have a clear idea of what happened in each class period.

Let me begin here with an important disclaimer: I love my mother will all of my heart, there is nothing I wouldn't do for her and I owe her a lot.
That said, she's the person I conflict with the most out of anyone I know, because we're basically emotional opposites. I am exceptionally quiet, introspective, and analytical. She is outgoing, personable, and well, extraverted. It used to upset me, because things she does inherently bother me, like how touchy feely she is. But I've tried to get used to calming myself, or realizing that none of it matters, or not to let it get to me.
I have pretty intense self-control, but sometimes I have a hard time reigning in anger. It'll ignite like a match and I don't really have much to stop myself during the instant that it flares up. I'll say something I don't mean, or even worse, get angry in my head and start thinking negatively.

I'm not sure why I felt like expressing that, beyond that I have to deal with it minorly basically every day of my life.


A subject change:
Halloween is tomorrow. Woot.
I'll have a pretty awesome costume.
After church tomorrow I'm going to see my younger cousin Mallory's play, ive been invited to multiple ones before but never been able to attend. I feel badly because she and her family attend things of mine even though they don't have to. It's just courtesy to reciprocate.
I kind of look forward to it, its a play I was in when I was her age. So it'll be fun.


Before I babble beyond what is necessary, I'll cut off I think.
However, a song. Tiesto is such an amazing trance DJ, he has an awesome collaborative song with Tegan and Sara. It has such a great impression of both their styles: Feel it in my Bones

There's always a siren singing you to shipwreck

Sometimes my life hastens by impetuously. At others, I feel like I am stumbling around blind.

I had a dream when I was young that I was teaching a blind man what colors were by describing emotions. It's one of my fondest dreams.
I often dream very mundane things, as i've intimated to others before, just last night I dreamt I was making three pizzas, and then eating them. I remember the lengthy process of both making and eating the pizzas (including time spent waiting for them to cook).

I can't wait for the cemetery tour to be over tomorrow, despite my eagerness to dress up and get it over with, I am very nervous over the entire process.

I don't want to start another book before Towers of Midnight comes out on November 2nd, because I want to have be focused for it, no joke, and i don't want to be stuck in the middle of some book for no reason. Besides if i did read one, it would probably be the Cleric Quintet for the third time, and you all know how long THAT one is.
Its funny, I like that book because I relate to it spiritually, despite it being about a fictional magical character struggling with belief and focus in his deity, I can relate it to christianity.
I feel like I am impossible to take seriously.

I need to get to bed so that I can wake up in the morning.
A song: Flyleaf- The Kind

Maybe I'm just tired

The strangest things are tied to memory, there is a christmas wreath scented candle that reminds me of a video game I played while it was lit a lot apparently.

And then I can't listen to Gorillaz without thinking of Asheville NC.

Similarly, I played ping pong yesterday, I haven't played ping pong in ages, but I immediately sank into the little idiosyncrasies of it.

Mothballs smell like my grandparents house, lol. I like that smell.

I hate when people have a little spit string connecting the bottom of their mouth to the top. 

Also, I hate when there are little crusted flakes on the milk cap.

However, I love the colors of fall, its kind of less vibrant, maybe more pastel, but I could look at it for hours.

I wish Bob Ross weren't dead, The Joy of Painting is still one of my favorite shows. Such a happy little show.

I'm pretty sure people can figure most anything out if they think about it (There are exceptions, of course), I had thought this through before and then it was beautifully portrayed in this excerpt from James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man:

"Eileen had long thin cool white hands too because she was a girl. They were like ivory; only soft. That was the meaning of Tower of Ivory but protestants could not understand it and made fun of it. One day he had stood beside her looking into the hotel grounds. A waiter was running up a trail of bunting on the flagstaff and a fox terrier was scampering to and fro on the sunny lawn. She had put her hand into his pocket where his hand was and he had felt how cool and thin and soft her hand was. She had said that pockets were funny things to have: and then all of a sudden she had broken away and had run laughing down the sloping curve of the path. Her fair hair had streamed out behind her like gold in the sun. Tower of Ivory. House of Gold. By thinking of things you could understand them."

 I like to think everything through, to a fault I have come to realize also. There is virtue in spontaneity and risk. But I can't help it, I am a thinker... to the point of I could consider it my profession.

It feels like I think things through so often or so thorough that I have lapses in sanity or something along those lines. Not in a bad way, I guess. I heard when I was young, it may be an Einstein quote or something, but like, Intelligent is barely on the other side of the line of insanity.

I guess a warehouse worker is going to have bad knees from lifting, as a pitcher will have a worn out wrist and elbow. What would that bode or herald for myself?
Not that I worry, a warehouse worker can now take care of himself and those he loves, as a Pitcher does his part for the team and makes millions in the process.
Thinking has brought me self-edification.

It has also brought me basically along my relationship with God, and as such, has allowed me elusive happiness.

Before I expunge excessive mindless self-indulgence I will give a song.
Oceanside, a more obscure Decemberists song, but one I love.

I'm getting old and I need something to rely on.

I guess I'm something of a ne'er do well, even though that is something I could never do well.
At rising tide, you're looking fresher than a July bride.

Sometimes, when people say innocent things in conversation I cannot refrain from finishing the rest of the lyrics that then unintentionally quoted. Just ask anyone who spends a moderate amount of time around me.
I think it's endearing.

I have also been known to respond to questions in class by quoting songs. Often without anyone noticing, and coming off as if I have good input. I don't consider it lying, or plagiarism.

So. What to ramble about. Ramble. Wander. Meander.
If I see a word, I often immediately find synonyms for it.

I am getting relentlessly distracted. so this will be brief.

A song to listen to:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jmkj4mzUtrk

My thoughts are misguided and a little Naïve

It's so easy to just delete and forget.
Delete -> Forget.


I think it's weakness. I'll forget so that I won't have to worry about it.


Everyday is exactly the same. I rarely feel like things are new. I don't feel experienced though, I just feel routined and purposeless. "there is no love here and there is no pain".
It's safe. It's hidden behind barricades and bulwarks. I hate strife, or argument, I'm not sure where it stems from though.


I want to go to far away places and meet people. I want to fight for my life. I want my life to be an epic, and to be labeled a hero. 
I read too many books.


I wanted to try and end with something more uplifting but I'm not really feeling it right now, I always get like this late at night. Hmm, well, I worked out yesterday and I'm way sore, which I love the feeling of.
and...
the weather is around the time that it's my favorite. I like the chill. I think you feel more when you're cold, despite the numbing. Maybe its more mental awareness, like heat anesthetizes your mind while cold invigorates it.


well, the bedtime knell was around a half hour ago, I can't think of anything else to say.


As promised two blogs ago: one of my favorite Keane songs:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hsZK64ioSc0


It's called "She Goes Back in Time"


I'd always been confused by the lyric "She goes back in time" itself,

I usually approached the song in some manner as her going back in time, as in reminiscing, or dwelling on regret.

The repetition of 'time', so often as a lyric itself as well as the theme of all the rest seems to indicate to me the significance of whatever their past was. 

I also like how the first chorus "she goes back in time" is repeated 3x, the second chorus, 5x, and the third chorus, 7x. 
Which could represent, i think, that she is slipping more and more into wishing the past could be changed. Especially since each chorus is prefaced with "Don't wanna wake up, don't wanna wake up".

Thinking of it as 'she goes back... in time', adds a far more hopeful element that I hadn't considered. 
Throughout it all, I struggle to decide where he (the "I" of the song) fits in. But I still think it's one of their best songs.

Lethargy. Effigy. Intimacy.

That title is too good not to write a blog for.


The more I see, the less I know, the more I like to let it go. (Hey-oh).


forlorn |fərˈlôrn; fôr-|adjective1 pitifully sad and abandoned or lonely : forlorn figures at bus stops.2 (of an aim or endeavor) unlikely to succeed or be fulfilled; hopeless : a forlorn attempt to escape.

Sometimes when I am driving my car

I will think of something funny

And laugh louder than I normally would

Because I feel that since I am alone

And theres no one there to judge me

It doesn’t matter

However,

I still think that sometimes people see me

From their yard, or in the car

And think that I am absurd.

I ruined my eyesight when I was young

Because I read to many books

If I could go back in time to change it

I’d have only done it sooner.

At some point in my life

I woke up and understood

That women were no longer

Just a pair of lips and tits.

That I’d wasted my time,

When I should have been searching

For the woman who looked exactly

Like my sons and daughters.

When you're young

you don't care about your sanity

It's all just childishness

and fantasy.

Some may say:

"you still live in fantasy"

but they're just jealous

because they can't live in my castle.

Someone far wiser than me once said: 

Haiku are awesome

But sometimes they don't make sense.

Refrigerator. 

Now, two of my favorite haiku's i've done. Haiku may be one of my favorite writing venues.

Love blazing aflame,

Yet still affectionate for

Gentle loneliness.

Naked on the grass,

Blind eyes that long to see...

Rain, rain on my head.

I'm done copy/pasting for now. None of this was all that spontaneous. So sue me, I can't blog about my current thoughts every single time.

I believe in the Loch Ness Monster.

It's about to get personal up in this blog.
I will probably go on for a while, so I'm going to put the music up top. Under normal circumstances, from here on out I will include some music to spread the gospel that is my taste. Only I intend to put it at the end, like a dessert.


It's trance, so it's repetitive.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sssyDl5Xjdc


If you don't like it, this is my favorite Rise Against song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=94vo6NzQD5c


I put up a Rise Against song because they're all hardline.


I live my life according to what I see as being in accord with God's will. Mostly I struggle with knowing what that will is, or how I ultimately fit into it.
Hardline is a term I hadn't heard until I wikipedia'd rise against because I liked their music. Apparently its a stricter offshoot of Straight Edge, which seems to be living what seems to be a logical and upstanding life. No drugs, no alcohol, no promiscuity. The whole hardline/straightedge scene looked really punk/emo to me. So I don't label myself, besides, I hate labels.


If anything, it's good to know people outside Christianity can appreciate morality. It is surprising how many people, most of an age with myself, have little to no sense of it. Hedonistic bohemian pleasure-seekers. Epicureanism (Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we die) is borderline rampant, and there's little to no way to refute something like that without spirituality. I'm glad that some people are good for goodness' sake. It's something I strongly believe in, only my justification is primarily obedience.


However, I respect and sympathize with a lifestyle centered around morality, and, I imagine, even were I not a christian I would still hold this view. It's something I've tried to base my life entirely on, and is something that is seldom, and I may argue never, rewarded.
I guess, what I'm getting at is that it was cool to find out that there was a name for something that I was a part of without really knowing.


Now, I'm going to reveal something I wrote.. a month or so ago.
I get in ruts consistently and try to verbally cathart (there's my made up word again) my way out of them.
So I was dealing with my life's direction and this is what came out:


I am 21. I graduate College with a B.A. in History Education this May.
I would like to teach at a Middle School, grade 6~8, (~American) History.
I would like to pursue my master’s degree while I taught school over 3 years.
At some point between now and the end of those three years…
I would like to fall in Love, but it is not a requirement.
I would like to continue teaching for an undisclosed period of time. 
I would like to get a doctoral degree, perhaps through taking summer classes over that length of time.
I would like to eventually teach at the collegiate level. Perhaps in a purely historical field, or perhaps in the field of education.
I would like to die before I become feeble.
I would like to have at least one daughter. And an undefined amount of grandchildren.
I would like to have written at least one book. Its being popular is not a requirement.
I would like to have been mostly happy.


There we go.
It gets selfish around the last third, but basically I wanted to outline what I was aiming for in my future.
Points of interest:
I'd like to fall in love.
I want as much education as conceivably possible.
I am (detrimentally?) introspective.


It seems simple to me, but maybe it's more complex than I think, which is why it's so difficult.


I was listening to Keane today. Aside from a lot of their lyrics having atheistic tones, I like almost everything about them. They play without a guitarist, they play with a pianist, and their lyrics resonate with me the more I listen to them.


The first time I heard their album Hopes and Fears, I immediately knew it was one of my favorites. Over time different songs became my favorite on the album, its hard not to love 'Somewhere Only We Know', but I particularly like 'She Has No Time', and 'Bedshaped'. Perhaps next blog I will feature some Keane, in fact, that's a promise. Along with a big blurb about why that song rocks.


As I mentioned, Keane songs resonate within me. In high school I took the lyrics way different than I do now. The lyrics to 'Somewhere Only We Know' seem, now, to be more about the remorselessness of time.


Time for a poem.


It was your laugh.
You had such a serious face
But when you smiled
It was as bright as an angel's

Im no older than I was then.
But I know, more than before
That you complete my soul.

It may be naïve to believe
In the beauty that was we.
But were true love veracity
Then you, were meant for me.




Not my most eloquent, but it has a flow and tone I guess I like.

caps lock is cruise control for cool

I'm joining the club of 'my title doesn't reflect anything to do with my actual blog'.

I hate school sometimes, but also, I'm scared of what's going to happen when it's over. The further along my school I go, the more I worry.
I have aspirations, and I have hopes, but sometimes it feels like i've only just woken up from a dream.
My facebook states "My life is a tentative thesis", which is partially because 'tentative thesis's' are so important to History majors, but also because I become diffident whenever I think about my life, where it could end up and how it could go about getting there.

Recently I added something about how I can never properly convey the words that gurgle around inside my head into any meaningful.
This is something I guess i've struggled with for my whole life, and it is probably painfully obvious via my blog. I feel like, inside my head, I have all these awesome things to say, but I can't ever express it correctly.
So I try to be a writer, but I can't write what I think in a way I'm happy with, the same goes for poetry. I've always dabbled in poetry, but I can't say i've ever felt satisfied with it. Which isn't to say it doesn't edify me, per se, because I really enjoy writing and poetry, and I often get great satisfaction after writing something I approve of, maybe I'm just hard to please.
Or actually, I think its that I am awfully self-critical, and I rarely feel like I am or should be satisfied with myself.

anyways, now that I've fully expressed my lamentations... I have little else to say.
Which is good because it fits into my goal of sticking to one or two topics per blog.

My dog makes evil faces, it's not her fault. She has a creepy face shape sometimes.
She's a bulldog. So her jowls hang and she farts a lot.
I love her so much.

I am supposed to be writing a paper that is due in around two hours.
I'll get it done, I always do.
I'd like to get it done within around a half hour so that I can have some time to read my book.

I like to read books.
I wish I could write better than I do.

Tucker is right, all blogs are is an excuse to say "I" a lot.
I'm not sure how to change that really.

I don't know if I should make this an all-encompassing rant, or stick to a singular subject per rant.
I'll stick to one or two just for continuities sake, my organizational impulses will probably take over naturally anyway.

That's all for now.
I was wrong.
I'm sorry.
I love you.

White Woe

Moonlight peering through the clouds.

Treetops quiver in the wind,

Whispering sweet comfort through their boughs.

A lingering cold upon my skin.

Knees clutched close against my chest,

Bumps on chilled flesh begin to rise.

Head tilted back to embrace the sky,

Midnight feast for forlorn eyes.

The wet grass cries beneath my feet.

My shoulders hang with sorrow.

Lonelier than this lovely dark,

Will be the night tomorrow.