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.