Tranquil Madness

I Swear to Drunk I'm not God

I never know what to do around people who are seriously intoxicated.

I have no problem with drinking. There are, in fact, a few drinks that I quite enjoy. I enjoy certain wines. I'm a big fan of mixed drinks and other things that don't taste like pure alcohol. (I still can't stomach beer, though. Blech.)

While I enjoy those drinks, I've never enjoyed them enough to become plastered. I restrain myself partially because drinks are expensive, partially because I'm afraid of what I would do or say if I lost my inhibitions and mostly because I have to drive.

It's still a relatively new experience for me to be around friends (and others) who not only do not share my restraint but also regularly exhibit that lack of restraint.
As such, I start to feel slightly uncomfortable when speech begins to slur and random laughter titters across the table.

Usually, once my companions are clearly no longer sober, I just sit back and watch. I will talk with them if they try to talk to me, but it's difficult enough to talk in a noisy bar without the added liquid barrier. I try to prevent them from doing obviously stupid things, but I mostly relax and enjoy the (metaphorical) ride.

I'm Back!

After a long struggle with Longview Cable, I have finally attained access to the glorious digital lifeline we call the internetz. I've spent several hours striving to catch up on the many things I've missed. Primarily, of course, that task consisted of reading lots of webcomic and blog archives.

On the job front, I've started my internship. Because I have an additional intern to compete with for stories, my work load has been a tad lighter this summer. That may change in the near future, however, as I have just convinced the editors to let me take over one of the beats normally covered by a full-time reporter. As this will be my first attempt at real beat reporting, it should be a learning experience.

My roommate and I are getting along rather well. For those who don't know, my new roommate is also a reporter with the paper. While I work a "normal" day shift, she works the afternoon/evening shift. As such, we may see each other for an hour or two outside of the office. For most of the day, one of us is either asleep or at work. Since we each have our own little room, it's very convenient. I'm starting to like the quiet.

Anyway, that's all for now. More stuff will come later, I'm sure.

Rambling Reflections

I have been thinking a great deal in the past few days about my sister's death and the times both before and after the accident which took her life. I am not sure why exactly this has haunted my mind, but I suspect it may be because the fourth anniversary of her death is only a couple of weeks away. I decided a few nights ago that I wanted to write out some reflections, but I intentionally delayed sitting down and writing. Part of me wants to deal with these thoughts, and part of me wants constantly wants to flee from them.

I apologize if this post seems disjointed or strangely written. I have no unifying theme or purpose other than just to reflect. It's sort of like stream-of-consciousness but a tad more organized.

The first time I realized I was focusing on my sister's death occurred when I discovered I could not remember the exact date of her death. I knew it happened in April, and I thought it was most likely April 11. This turned out to be the correct date (I checked my blog post about it to be sure), but the fact that I had any doubt whatsoever about the date of the accident made me feel as if I were an absolutely worthless human being. For the first time since shortly after her funeral (that I can remember), I began to cry about her death.

Perhaps not surprisingly, what I remember most vividly about the night she died is hearing the news. I remember sitting down to watch the mini-series "Storm of the Century." I remember telling someone (I think Chris) pick up and immediately hang up the phone the first time it rang. I remember the frustration I felt when it began to ring again. I remember not recognizing my mother's voice because she was still in tears. I remember her telling me that there had been an accident and that my sister had not survived. I remember my mouth opening in disbelief, and I remember crouching as I held the phone. I remember my mother asking me if there was someone else she could talk to, and I remember almost yelling for someone else to take the phone. I remember Mark taking it as I moved to sit on my bed. I remember being left alone (and I'm fairly certain I asked everyone to leave). I remember Nathan walking into the room later after he got off work, oblivious to what had happened, and I remember not being able to tell him, instead telling him to go ask Mark. I remember finally emerging from my room (I do not remember why) and finding everyone who was currently on Dorm Four meeting in third-floor lounge. I never asked, but I've always assumed that was to share the news and pray for my family. I remember at one point sitting on a table in the second-floor lounge staring blankly into the night, and I remember making eye-contact with a group of guys walking into the building who were unaware of what had happened and minutes later being asked by that group if they could pray over me. I remember waiting for what felt like hours for a family friend to pick me up and describing to some of the guys what his truck would look like, and I remember feeling annoyed when a different person arrived in a different truck because I felt like I had misled my friends.

After almost four years, I doubt those memories will leave me any time in the near future. What had been hidden, however, were precisely what happened when I went home. Were it not for my other blog entries about that time, I am not sure my memory would have been jogged. Most of that time is lost in a fog that descended some time after falling asleep that first night/early morning. I'm very glad now that I did write something during that time.

At the same time, though, I don't really recognize the person who wrote several of those entries. Despite my "cynical" attitude I remember supposedly having, a good deal of my writing had quite a bit of hope mingling with the note of despair or bitterness. I do not remember that hope, and I certainly do not remember at what it was directed. Did I possess that hope, or did I express it in an attempt to fill a role I thought I had to play? I may not be that great of an actor on stage, but I have long been able to suppress emotion. I have been doing it all my life. I am fairly certain none of my roommates thought anything was wrong as I said goodnight and climbed into bed to cry privately the other night. I've been wanting to talk about this for days, but I refused to let myself show it even though I am surrounded by people who would be more than willing to talk with me about anything. Was I doing the same thing after her death? Was it all part of my attempt to be "strong" for my family?

I remember grieving. I remember mourning. I remember weakly smiling and thanking people for their concern. But, I do not remember hope.

Which, of course, does not really answer what is important. If I truly felt that way even after the death of my sister, what has changed within me, and what provoked that change? I look back now and think of my past self as a naive fool, and I felt a twinge of embarassment as I linked to those previous posts.

I also can not remember the last time I visited my sister's grave. My mother and my grandparents visited it daily for quite some time after the funeral, and I am fairly certain they still go to it at least once a week. I could probably count the number of times I have been there because I wanted to be there on one hand. Some seem to see it as a way to honor and remember her, while I came to view it as a waste of time and energy. Ironically, this is also when I began to develop an interest in cemetaries in general, and I a few months later I encountered "Dead Like Me" for the first time. Yet, I now find myself wanting to visit her grave. I've even been tempted to make a special trip from Longview just for that purpose.

I'm not exactly sure where this desire is coming from, but I suspect that guilt may play a heavy role in it. Guilt over being given a new car after my sister's death. Guilt over becoming an only child and accepting that descriptor for myself. Guilt over having the audacity to actually enjoy getting more attention from my family and seemingly being more valued by my relatives. Guilt over knowing I could use that attention and love to my advantage and, yes, even doing it. Guilt over simultaneously painfully missing my sister and forgetting how she affected my life. Guilt over moving on and mostly not looking back.

Regret for the future is also mixed with much of that guilt; however, most of that regret is selfish in nature. I regret not being able to see my sister grow and mature past the age of 15. I regret not being able to know her as an adult. I regret not being able to meet the man she would have married or know the children she would have eventually have mothered. (Despite my views on children, she seemed quite fond of them.) I regret her becoming a memory, and I regret allowing that memory to be so small.

I'm not sure what I want from writing all of this out, and I'm fairly certain I could ramble on for a good deal longer. I'm not looking for a solution to any perceived problems one might find from this. I think I just needed to get this off of my chest so I can breathe again. So that I can go to sleep without once again reliving the night of my sister's death.

And that's not meant to sound nearly as melodramatic as I know it does.

Mail Me Money

Today, I received a letter from Hillary Rodham Clinton. The return address on the envelope was simply "Hillary Rodham Clinton. It was a fundraising letter for her presidential campaign, naturally. The letter's salutation is addressed to "Friend."

The letter contains a great many things. Jabs at the formerly Republican majority and the Bush administration. Allusions to the so-called American dream. Emphasis on the need for new leadership. Promises about "develop[ing] a coherent Iraq strategy" and "cutting the deficit and balancing the budget." Reminders of Clinton's experience and track-record in the Senate.

However, only two sentiments of the letter truly caught my attention, and both were rhetorical flairs in an otherwise uninspiring letter. The first is the subordinate clause: "After eight long years of an administration that created as many serious problems as it failed to resolve." This appears to be the most direct and arguably vicious attack in the letter, and it is added as a forethought to a rather boring main clause of the third sentence.

The second sentiment is actually a full paragraph describing her victory over Republican campaigns. The letter explains almost a hundred million dollars has been spent "against [her]" and she still won two "strong victories for the Senate." It also explains she received 60% of the vote in counties which were carried by Bush in New York. She says she knows "how Washington Republicans think, how they operate, and how to defeat them." She needs to stress this point because it seems many Democrats hesitate gravitating towards her because she is seen as too divisive.

The letter concludes with an appeal to the future of America. At the bottom of the last sheet, a post-script in what is presumably her handwriting declares, "Together, I know we can do this! Hillary." The evelope also contained a form for a donation attached to a small survey asking what the donor believes are the most important issues facing the nation.

This is the second fundraising letter I have received in the last few weeks. Not too long ago, I found a letter from the Cato Institute in my CPO box. While Hillary's letter was only three pages, the Cato Institute's letter reached a gargantuan eight pages. While the Cato Institute's smallest donation box was $50, Hillary's requested donations went as low as $25.

I'm not sure how either Hillary or Cato got my address, but I am highly amused that they both asked me for money. I would like to get unsolicited mail from more politicians running for President, though. I find it most interesting.

The End of an Internship

Yesterday, I drove to Tyler, briefly interviewed Congressman Louie Gohmert, checked the police beat, wrote two briefs based on police department media releases, called police about a drive-by shooting that afternoon and wrote another brief about it, and tried to get information about a woods fire that happened in a different county.

I also cleaned out my desk and said my final farewells as a summer intern to the newspaper staff.

It's weird. This is the first time I've had a job where leaving was actually bittersweet. Everyone there told me I did a fantastic job over the summer. I'm assuming they were sincere in this since the editors told me they would be happy to hire me part-time during the school year.

At the moment, that part-time opportunity seems appealing. It will take a few weeks before I know if I can handle part-time work with my current schedule.

22!

Gratuitous happy birthday to me post.

That is all.

It's Official

I really am a nerd. Yesterday, I purchased two books off of Amazon.

The first book is about media law and how it directly relates to journalism. The second is a collection of essays about journalism from the Poynter Institue.

Neither of these books are necessary for any class, but, since I've already taken LeTourneau's one journalism class, I decided it would be a good idea to further my journalism education through other means.

I'm hoping they will arrive around Friday.

Yet Another Work Related Post

Random thoughts from work:

1) It's odd for the county judge to know me by name.
2) It's odd for the chief of police to know me by name.
3) I've encountered at least three LETU grads working for/with Longview.
4) There aren't mediocre public information officers/public relations people. They either rock or suck. There is no middle ground.
5) Many journalists are left-of-center politically, but they generally hide it really well.
6) Staying objective in the face of stupidity is much harder than most would think.
7) Interviewing a child (or teenager) that will say something more than "It was fun" or "I like it" makes me feel happy.
8) My favorite leads are always the ones that would result in a stern lecture if I submitted them to an editor and in a lawsuit if published.

And You Are. . .?

One of the more interesting aspects of journalism is that I must talk to multiple people for every story I must write. Occasionally, I can gather all the information I need over the phone. Most of the time, though, I must actually meet and talk with people face to face.

Some stories only require me to talk with two or three people, and some require me to talk to more than five. As such, I generally introduce myself to at least four people every day while working. Since I have done quite a few "human interest" stories, I believe I can accurately say most of these people have never spoken with a reporter before. That fact, along with my long hair in this conservative area, helps many of them remember who I am. I doubt they remember my name for very long, but they definitely remember I am a reporter.

I, on the other hand, have a rather difficult time remembering who they are unless they were the main subject of the story itself. Covering one story today, I saw at least four people I knew I had met previously through other stories. I only knew the name of one of them. I struggled to remember at the very least what story I was working on when I met the others, and I think I know what I was doing when I talked with one.

I mentioned this to one of the other reporters. He laughed, and he told me I should "get used to it." He said it is even stranger when you meet them outside of a professional context. He had a man walk up to him while he was eating out the other day. The guy asked him if he had written any big stories lately. They spoke briefly, and he spent the entire meal trying to remember who that man was. He finally remembered as he finished eating, and he spoke with the man again before leaving.

Other reporters in the office have joked about names during work. When one reporter told me that I "look like a Steve," a few of them began to laugh. Seeing my slightly confused facial expression, he explained that we work with so many names they totally run together.

It's kind of tragic, really. I'm bad enough about forgetting names as it is.

Randy the Reporter

For the duration of the summer, I am working with the Longview News-Journal as an intern reporter. Tomorrow marks the completion of my first week of work. I am loving it.

I walked into the newsroom a few minutes before nine in the morning on my first day of work. The city editor gives me a tour of the newsroom, which takes about five minutes at most. He takes me to a computer and tells me that I will not have a permanent desk because I am an intern. In essence, I will be moving desks every time a regular employee needs his or her desk back. I have used five different desks thus far. Occasionally, I use more than one a day.

After briefly explaining the computer system (I have never used a Mac before), he decides that I should not spend my first morning sitting around looking bored while waiting for the managing editor to give me a more formal introduction to the newspaper. He assigns me a story. In twenty minutes, I have to be at the Longview Public Library. I go, get the story, and come back. By this time, the managing editor has arrived. I spend the rest of the day either writing my first story or having certain things about the newspaper and their procedures explained to me.

The next day I am assigned another story. For this one, I need to call various people involved in city government and ask them questions about National Hurricane Week. Once again, I get the story and try to write it while also being introduced to various people and departments. The city editor also explains to me the Saturday schedule rotation. Essentially, I will occasionally have a Monday off, but I will have to work the following Saturday. My turn through the rotation is this week, of course.

The weekend rolled by too quickly, naturally. It always does. Anyway, I am assigned two stories on Tuesday. For the first one, I must drive to another town. For the second one, I must walk two blocks. As I finish these stories, I discover that I have five stories assigned to me already that I must finish before next Wednesday.

Today, I completed one of these stories as well as interviewed a man for another one. Additionally, I was given another story this morning which I had to complete for tomorrow's paper. Today was the first day where I felt I might not have enough time to finish everything I was assigned.

What I find strange is that I do not find this to be stressful and I am not feeling overburdened. Instead, I'm finding it exhilerating. I'm finally learning what is required of an actual journalist. Like I said earlier, I'm loving it.

Nightmares

Yesterday evening I purchased The Nightmare on Elm Street Collection. Later that night, I watched the original A Nightmare on Elm Street. Five movies later (I skipped the second one because it is the worst of the series in my opinion) and I am writing this before I go to sleep.

The Nightmare series, starring the infamous Freddy Krueger, will always hold a special place in my heart. The third installment of the series, Dream Warriors, served as my introduction to the horror genre. I don't remember how old I was at the time (probably somewhere around 10-12), but I remember my father watching it one weekend night and inviting me to watch it with him. Shortly after that night, I devoured the series. Every time I had a chance to rent a movie, which was rather frequently, I would grab a new Nightmare.

When I finished with the series, I moved on to Friday the 13th and all of its sequels. Following that series, I grabbed the Halloween movies. After that, I just sort of grabbed random horror movies that looked appealing. This was how I found George Romero's Night of the Living Dead and other zombie movies.

Were any of these movies of great quality? Of course not. They are horror movies. It's hard to find any horror movie that isn't campy in some way or another. That is part of what makes them so much fun.

This horror background also allowed me to enjoy Scream and Shaun of the Dead much more than some others. The latter is a movie I definitely must own.

Anyway, the point of this is to say that I will most likely try to force some people to watch the original Nightmare this semester. If I ever purchase the Friday the 13th collection, I'm sure I'll do the same for its original.

Memory

Yesterday, the fifth of November, was my sister's birthday.

I do not think I would have remembered this at all had my mother not called and reminded me last night.

I remember shortly after my sister's death that I was afraid of eventually going an entire day without thinking of her. Now, I can't even remember her on her birthday.

Happy belated birthday, Jessica. I miss you.

Shocking Discovery?

Tonight, after eating at Fazoli's, I went to Wal-Mart with Doug because we both needed to re-stock on a few things. Typically, my trips to buy food/Dr Pepper/whatever is rather boring. This trip was special though, and it was all because of one little kid.

As Doug and I walked through the guantlet of the main aisles, we passed by a young boy being led by his mother. This kid had to be four at the oldest. The only reason I even gave the kid a second glance was because he seemed to be staring at me intently. He had a strange smile on his face, as if he had seen something incredible. Naturally, I was a little confused.

Almost immediately after we passed the kid, I heard a small voice cry out. "Mom," it exclaimed, "that man has girl's hair!"

I stopped, turned around in the aisle, and just looked at the kid. I couldn't help but laugh because the kid was still staring at me. The mother, who I can only assume was mortified at her child's exclamation, never even slowed her pace.

As Doug had pulled slightly ahead of me when this happened, he didn't hear it. When I told him, he practically collapsed in the middle of an aisle with laughter.

Alien

(Warning: Typical family rant below, followed by family and personal introspective rambling.)

There is no place I know of where I feel more out of place than when I am at my cousins' home.

The same things seem to happen every time. My father and his siblings immediately begin to bounce conversation between them, and my cousins have developed the ability to jump in and participate. I might be able to do so if the topic would drift away from hunting, my deceased grandparents, or far-right conservatism.

The food is eventually ready to eat. Someone will offer some idiotic prayer thinking it remains funny ("Good food, good drink. Good Lord, let's eat.") Everyone then fights for the food, which is generally some variation of BBQ.

While eating, conversation remains on its typical course. Usually when I'm in the middle of eating, someone will make some racist comment or bring up some political untruth that makes my insides begin to boil. Occasionally, the two are combined. Last night, they were. ("Those damn n-----s in New Orleans stayed so they could take control of the city.") When this happens, I finish eating as quickly as I can and then excuse myself. I would confront most of my family if we were speaking privately. In a crowd, however, I am definitely the minority.

While I may not enjoy the company of my extended family, I do envy one aspect of their life. Their family talks to one another. They joke and play around. They are comfortable with one another.

The accident that killed my sister also killed one of my cousins. Their family pulled together. While they still have their problems, they have one another.

My family, on the other hand, drifted apart. I spent the night my sister died at the house of a family friend because I could not handle my family. The next few days, it seemed as if we all suffered on our own. We didn't really speak to one another. When we went to see the mother of another kid (Justin, my sister's boyfriend) that died, I remember my mother finding Justin's jacket in my father's truck, picking it up, and holding it to her chest while sobbing to herself. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat in the backseat of the truck quietly. I have no idea what my father was thinking, but he started driving. I don't think we said a word to one another during the drive.

My family never was very close. I don't think my sister's death tore us apart, but I do think it constructed a barrier between us. Most of this weekend, my father watched television in the living room, my mother watched DVDs in their bedroom, and I was on my computer in my room. We usually even eat in separate locations.

Most of the time, I am happy with this arrangement. I'm a private person, and I enjoy spending time alone. However, when I want to engage in a deep and serious conversation with anyone, I don't really have anyone to speak with.

I have surrounded myself with an impenetrable shell. Most people are aware of what is outside it, but only very few have I allowed inside.

This is mainly because I have a severe trust deficiency. (I blame my father for that, but that's a totally different story.) I'm afraid to really open up, even to the closest of my friends.

As a result, I always end up feeling like I don't belong. Like everyone is just tolerating my presence because they don't want to be mean. When I hit that point, I start to withdraw. I slowly pull myself away. And then I never know what to do.

. . .

You know, I am blaming Martinez and Dr. K. for this post.

And I'm Back!

Well, I have now returned to Texas. I'm back at home, and I am once again using my own computer.

I can hardly contain my excitement. (Please note sarcasm)

I've started unpacking. I probably will finish unpacking just in time to move back to LeTourneau. I am far too lazy for my own good.

I loved DC. I want to go back.

Slightly Surreal

Two things occurred today that made today feel a little strange.

First, Wonkette, everyone's favorite political gossip blog, linked a Washington Times article co-written by fellow Institute of Political Journalism student and intern Ed Cen. I ride the bus with to work with this guy every morning.

(By the way, can someone explain to me how that story got on the front page of a major newspaper? I'm happy for Ed, really, but I think that was crappy editing.)

Second, a cold front finally hit the DC area. A storm came with it. When the storm subsided, a gorgeous and eerie light filled the sky. It made everything look slightly odd. I loved it.

What A Day

Today has been entirely too long, but quite a few good things happened.

I went to the Dwight D. Eisenhower Executive Office Building (which is right next to the White House) this morning to listen to Dan Bartlett and the deputy press secretary of Bush speak. I received a random compliment about my hair from a woman as I was going from the "White House briefing" to work. At work, I completed two papers and had time to do actual work. I "led" a debate team in arguing the "con" side of a national shield law for journalists, and we won.

I am now completely finished with classes for the summer, and I have three more days of work ahead of me.

Coulter = Dahmer?

People seem to wonder why I am so vehemently despise people like Ann Coulter. Well, for these people, I would recommend reading this little comic.

I hate to say it, but this really is how I see many of the well-known "conservative" talking heads. Of course, the fact that it seems to focus primarily on Coulter makes it all the sweeter.

I know some will argue that Coulter is the equivalent of Micheal Moore, but I think rhetorically she is much, much worse.

Priorities?

What I need to be doing: Writing an Economics paper, writing a journalism paper, and studying for two finals

What I am actually doing: Reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

I blame J. K. Rowling.

STRESS!

I have about three weeks left in DC. I have two weeks of classes left at Georgetown. As such, my professors and employer have decided to give me an obscene amount of work.

This weekend I need to research and write a seven-page minimum Economics paper because I won't have another long stretch of time to work on it before it will be due. I must begin studying for the second Economics test on this upcoming Thursday.

I need to write an op-ed piece, which will include quite a bit of research into the topic of my choice (most likely national shield laws for journalists), for my Journalism Seminar. I must also conduct an interview with a professional journalist in the DC area and begin writing a seven-page paper for the same seminar.

Over the weekend, I will need to create five story ideas (and write a "brief" description of each) for the magazine at which I intern. If my supervisor likes any of them, I will get to write one of them. I also have just less than a thousand stories I need to organize before my last day of work.

Thankfully, my ethics professor has decided not to add to this burden. Yet.

If I can survive this week, which I believe will be the busiest and most stressed of my educational career, the rest of the summer should be practically easy-going.

On the plus side, I do have a White House briefing at some point in the next few weeks. I am quite excited about that.

The Fourth in DC

How did I spend my July 4th? Let me tell you.

I slept in until about noon. I then watched Spiderman 2 with one of my roommates.

Around four o'clock, we left for the National Mall. On the way, we stopped to eat at a Subway.

When we got to the Mall, we met some friends and sat around for about thirty or so minutes. After this, I left with some people to go watch A Capitol Fourth, the PBS concert special. After the concert, I watched fireworks explode behind the Washington Monument.

I then came back to my apartment and slept. All in all, it was a good day.

My Time in Philadelphia

Or, The Budding Salesman

Yesterday morning, my three intern coworkers and I stumbled onto the street outside of our apartments at six in the morning. We were adorned with our "Sunday best," so to speak, and we were waiting for one of our supervisors to arrive. He arrived, and we loaded our bags and ourselves into the rented Trailblazer.

We were on our way to an educational technology convention in Philadelphia. I was not entirely sure what to expect. I knew that we were going to be salespeople/marketers for one of my employers' websites, but other than that I was practically in the dark.

I was quite surprised when we arrived.

At ten o'clock (after riding for four hours), we arrived at the convention center. We signed in and collected our exhibitor badges, and we walked into the convention. My jaw then hit the floor. We walked by displays and booths featuring Microsoft, Macintosh, National Geographic, the Discovery Channel, and many more household names. We met people from California, New York, and everywhere in between (including Canada and Mexico).

This convention was featuring new educational technology and electronic resources. Teachers, librarians, and school board members from across the United States and several other nations were in attendance, and my job was to introduce our website to as many of them as possible.

That's right. For this convention, I was a salesman.

For those of you who know me, I'm sure this thought must be entertaining. Can you seriously see me walking up and starting conversations with random people who linger for an appropriate time near my booth? Thankfully, I was not alone with this. Two of the other interns seemed really natural in this type of situation, a fact which surprised both ot them.

Anyway, we worked our booth and the convention from 10 AM to 5:30 PM, with a break for lunch somewhere between those times. We then walked to our hotel, walked to a Chinese food place, walked to an ice cream/cupcake shop, and walked back to the hotel.

Today, we worked at the convention from 9 AM to 3 PM. We left Philadelphia around 4:30, and we arrived back in DC at about 9:30.

Altogether, we probably spoke to a couple of thousand people. I feel completely drained. Fortunately, we do not have to go to work tomorrow.

Of course, I do have a briefing at the State Department tomorrow afternoon. I'm looking forward to that, but I can't wait for the weekend.

Concerts in DC

I saw 10,000 Maniacs and Lifehouse last night. I have photos to prove it.

My ears still hurt. I had fun, but I still don't understand why the music needs to be so loud.

Seminars in DC

Tonight, the IPJ program had the priviledge of listening to a couple of professional journalists speak about their experiences in journalism.

The first speaker was Carl Leubsdorf. He is the Washington Bureau Chief of the Dallas Morning News. I was able to speak with him briefly after the seminar.

The second speaker was Bret Baier. Some of you may recognize that name. I knew immediately that he worked for the Fox News Channel, but I could not recall what he did for the FNC. Baier is the national security correspondent. He was practically smothered with questions (some more about his channel than his work). Unfortunately, I did not get the chance to ask him anything.

Fortunately, I have the office and home/cell phone numbers for both of these journalists. It is quite likely that I will never use them, but it is nice to have them nonetheless. I also have their emails.

:)

Classes in DC

("DC" will be in the title of every post I make while I am in Washington.)

As of now, I have had two classes of ethics, two classes of economics, and an introduction to the "Leadership Scholars" class. I have started to get a feel for the classes.

"Ethical Perspectives on the Media" is going to be a great class. This is basically a secular ethics class which will eventually focus on ethics in the media. The professor has been focusing on a general overview of ethics thus far. I am excited about this class because I am actually going to hear the thoughts and insights of people who are not necessarily from the background to which I have grown accustomed. The fact that it is a discussion class makes it that much better.

"Economics in Public Policy" is going to be interesting. The professor is a fanatic in regards to economic theory. I do not much like his style of teaching, but he definitely seems to know economic theory. This is my first "real" economics class. I can't wait to start reading Regulation, the Constitution, and the Economy. It just sounds fascinating.

"Leadership Scholars Seminar" can only get better, I hope. The syllabus claims that this is a class designed to facilitate discussion about our internships, current news, and our other classes. The introduction to the class was a three-hour workshop that would make any IMPACT retreat planner salivate. I took a "color personality profile" (I'm yellow, apparently) and a political spectrum profile (I'm center-left). Supposedly, this was the favorite class of last year's students. Unless the class itself is quite different from our little workshop, I am going to be greatly disappointed with this program's alumni.

It's Great to be in DC!

It really is. However, the travel to get her really, really sucked. Thank you, Continental, for not loading my most important suitcase onto the plane. I really appreciate having to wait six hours to get my luggage. Thank you for that wonderful experience.

My roommates are . . . interesting. I am living with three people with personalities quite different from my own. My actual roommate is from Baltimore. One of the others is from Slovakia, and the other one is from Orange county. All three are rather outgoing and semi-athletic.

My internship is off to a rather slow start. I am responsible for the reorganization of a project of one of the websites. The website itself can be found here. I will be creating a new category system and sorting somewhere between 1500 and 3000 news stories.

I'm typing this on my roommate's computer. He has gone out to meet some friends who are in the area. I think his sleeping habits thus far have rivaled this guy's.

Anyway, I need to get to sleep. I have an ethics class in the morning. I'll talk about it and rant about my economics class at another time.

DC!

I shall be leaving shortly to go to the international airport near Houston. From there, I shall fly to Washington, D.C. Two days later I shall take my first class, and one day after my first class I shall have my first day of work.

For those not "in the know," I will be interning at an online magazine that is a subsidiary of the Washington Times. I found this internship through the Institute of Political Journalism, which is an off-shoot of The American Studies Foundation. Mr. Payton, wonderful professor that he is, brought the IPJ program to my attention in the Fall '04 semester.

I plan to make at least a few posts while I am in Washington, but I am not making any promises. I will be returning to Texas on July 30.

Guilty Pleasures: Music Edition

Normally, when I am at home, I have the television in my room set to a music channel for background noise. The channels range from MTV (if it's late enough that they actually play music videos) to VH1 (if I have an urge to catch up on pop culture between the occasional music video) to FUSE (if I want to listen to music and/or watch music videos at almost any time). Currently, FUSE is my favorite channel.

As I've had this background music going practically since I've been home, I have had the unbearable misfortune pleasure to catch up on all the music that is currently popular.

This generally raises a number of musician-oriented questions. "What was Gwen Stefani thinking?" "When did Rob Thomas become a solo pop singer?" "Why is Akon singing a duet with one of the Chipmunks?"

Some of the music I have enjoyed. For example, I love Breaking Benjamin's "Sooner or Later." I've also really liked Story of the Year's "Till the Day I Die." Green Day's "Holiday" is an obvious favorite.

Some of the music I have despised. Gwen Stefani's latest abomination "Hollaback Girl" and Black Eyed Peas' horror "Don't Phunk With My Heart" make the screeching of nails on chalkboard seem pleasent.

Some songs, however, I feel like I should hate, but for some reason I really enjoy. A few weeks ago I was introduced to Slipknot's "Vermillion," and I immediately fell in love with the song. Slipknot is generally too "hard" for my taste. System of a Down has traditionally created music that I hate. The lead singer's voice normally irritates me to no end. However, I like their song "B.Y.O.B." "Feel Good, Inc." by Gorrilaz is lighter than I generally like my music, and it has a small rap interlude in the middle of the song. Strangely, that doesn't seem to matter. The majority of what I have heard by My Chemical Romance I have despised, but "Helena" just grabs my attention somehow. (If you want to see a delightfully morbid music video, check out "Helena.")

My taste in music has always been strange. I'm occasionally surprised by what I like and hate as far as music is concerned.

Art!

Due to the demands of a certain friend, I am providing a link to my online photo gallery. If you are interested in seeing my amateur attempts at artistic photography, you can see my Deviant Art gallery here.

Packing & Moving

I hate packing. I loathe moving. Consequently, I despise the work necessary at the end of a school year.

Every time I ask myself the same questions:

Why do I have so much stuff? Why did I bring this crap with me? Why did I never unpack certain things? Why am I putting some things into boxes instead of throwing them away? Why am I such a packrat?

How is it that I am able to fill three boxes with books not related to my schooling?

Where am I going to put my textbooks? How am I going to get all of this stuff to my home? What am I going to do with it once I get it there? Am I really going to bring it all back next time?

These never seem to get answered. Instead, they are pushed to the back of my mind. They are ignored.

They resurface every semester. They are ignored again. It's a vicious cycle.

I hate packing and moving.

Note to Self

Dear Self,

You need a hairdryer. You really need a hairdryer.

In fact, I must inquire as to why you have not yet bought one. Your hair now takes far too much time to dry on its own. I would not be writing to you after 1 AM if this was false.

Please attempt to find one the next time you are in an area of commerce. If you continue to forget, I may be forced to take drastic measures.

Thank you for your attention,
Myself

I Have Returned!

Edit: I have days 0-3 posted! I'm sure I'll finish the entire trip before the end of next week.

Day 0 (Friday)

My mother, my aunt, and I drive to a hotel a few miles away from the Houston airport. While driving my mother's Navigator I accidentally drive on a curb while travelling around sixty miles per hour. I don't think my mother has ever woken up so quickly.

We arrive at the hotel and go to sleep.

Day 1

We wake up at a hideously early hour and travel to the airport. I should point out that my aunt has had both hips replaced. She is stopped by security every time we attempt to board a plane on this trip. We have a two or three hour plane ride to the Atlanta airport. We have an eight-hour layover in Atlanta.

At the airport, we meet my uncle's partner, Will, and begin to go around the city. We go to eat at one of my uncle's favorite places to eat. It had a tropical decor (complete with parrots!) and a variety of exotic foods. We all had hamburgers. When leaving, we witness a lady almost get decapitated with a small windmill. The metal windmill fell off of its post and passed within a couple of feet of the woman's head.

We then drive to an art museum in Atlanta. The museum did not have a large variety of art, but they did have an impressive collection of an African-American artist from the 1960s (I think).

We spend the rest of our eight-hour layover at Will's house. While there, we were introduced to Rita and LG. Rita is pictured below. Remember her. She will come back into this story later.

We return to the airport around six in the afternoon to prepare for the nine and a half hour flight to Buenos Aires. I did not get much sleep on this flight. I remember that the movie shown was Shall We Dance? and that I actually watched it because I could not sleep.

Day 2

We eventually arrived at the Buenos Aires airport. My uncle was supposed to meet us there. We waited for him at the exit to which we were directed. We waited some more. We kept waiting. We waited. He finally finds us. It turns out that our flight did not take us to the normal terminal because all of the gates at that terminal were full.

We took a taxi to the apartment we were renting for the week and deposited our luggage. We then began our time as "tourists." We covered quite a bit of the city on this day.

One of our first stops was the "Casa Rosada." This building is basically a giant office building for the Argentine government. One of the first things I noticed about the building was that it had a large number of blockades in front of and near it.

We then travelled to the equivalent of a giant flea market. Apparently, this flea market takes place every Saturday and Sunday in Buenos Aires. We did not buy anything, but we did see a number of entertainers attempting to squeeze money out of the tourists. I saw more people trying to earn money by dancing the tango than I can count.

After the flea market, we went to eat at a popular restaurant, the name of which I can not remember. We ate outside underneath the shade of a gigantic tree.

That is one tree. One giant tree.

After eating, we walked a short distance to a giant ten-acre cemetary packed with crypts. I literally mean "packed." Excluding a few narrow walkways, there is no empty space in the cemetary. Many of the crypts are only a few feet wide.

This is the entrance to the Recoleta Cemetary. The Recoleta contains the crypts of some of Buenos Aires' most famous people. For example:

This is the crypt in which Evita is interred. Supposedly, flowers are always on the door of this crypt.

Evita's crypt is an excellent example of a well-kept crypt. Many old crypts in the cemetary look as if they were recently added. Unfortunately, not all crypts are that well-maintained. The following photo is of a small statue that had fallen off of the inside wall of an old crypt.

If anyone is interested in seeing photos of the more famous crypts, I have a book about the cemetary. I also took a large number of photos of the cemetary.

After the cemetary, we went to another large flea market. While here, I purchased two small paintings from a local artist. My aunt also bought my older cousin (the one that is married and has two kids) a painting.

We returned to our apartment for a short time. We then went to eat. We ate at a closer restaurant this time. This became our favorite restaurant during our stay. We returned two more times to eat at it. After eating, we returned to the apartment and collapsed.

Day 3

We woke up (relatively) early in order to catch a boat to Uruguay.

The boat we took across the seventy-mile wide river was rather nice. It could travel about seventy miles an hour, had a larger version of airplane seats (without seatbelts), and had its very own snack bar at the back. I think it could seat a couple hundered people.

We went to Uruguay in order to see "Colonia." Colonia is a UN protected "World Heritage Site." I do not know exactly what that means, but I am assuming that no scyscrapers will be built there any time soon. Most of the city looked quaint, for lack of a better word.

We took a taxi to the "old wall" of the city to pass through the old gate. The gate is pictured below.

See that curve the top left of the wall? That part was supposedly knocked off during a siege. I say supposedly because I only know what my uncle told me about this place.

Once through that gate, we walked through the ancient part of this town. There were streets and buildings dating back to the 1600s. A large wooden plaque on the side of one of these buildings had a quote fron Don Quixote in old Spanish.

We had lunch in Colonia. I think that the food we had at that restaurant was the best food we ate during the trip.

We continued exploring the town until about four or five in the evening. We had to return to the dock in order to ride back to Buenos Aires. The boat ride had the same "entertainment" on the way back. "Entertainment" should be read as "boring series of commercials in Spanish."

Once we returned, my mother wanted to watch a movie. She wanted to watch Alexander. However, since it did not play for a few hourse, we watched Meet the Fockers instead.

On the way back to the apartment, we took a detour in order to through a mall. I'm not sure why, but we did. The mall had a large mural on its center ceiling, but this mural was not worth the trip.

25 Hours

That is how long I have been awake. Whee!

There is just something odd about staying awake all night and going to the dentist in the morning. For some reason, everything feels so surreal.

Happy Holidays

[Insert cheesy "Reason for the Season" or "Why I Love Christmas" post here]

'Tis the Season, Part 2

For some reason, I have been feeling incredibly antisocial lately. I have been basically staying in my room reading, doing crosswords, and playing Silent Hill 3.

My parents have already had some friends and relatives over, but I only came out of my room to say hello, to get food, and to say goodbye. I am not looking forward to Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at all. I'll be spending those three days at three different Christmas celebrations (two with family, one with family friends). If still in my current mood, I may accidentally bite off someone's head.

Happy holidays.

ATTN: Females

Can someone (anyone) please explain to me why walking down a church aisle in a white dress to have a ring put on a finger is the biggest event in a woman's life?

I have nothing against weddings, but it seems to me that most people--male and female--put way too much effort into it. I understand the symbolism of it and everything, but most people spend too much money and get way too stressed.

People waste money on special napkins (and other little "keepsakes"), special decorations, and about three or four thousand special photographs. In my opinion, anything other than the clothing, jewelry, and food is superfluous.

Then again, what do I know? What better way to start a new life together than by spending hideous amounts of money on a ceremony that lasts maybe a couple of hours?

A Message...

Despite what it looks like, I have been doing quite a bit of writing lately. In fact, I happen to think I have been working on some of the best compositions of my life. Sadly, they are far too personal for me to share here.

As soon as I finish working through some personal issues I will get back to my normal semi-frequent posting.

I apologize for any inconvenience.

And I'm Back!

I have returned home safely. I got home Monday evening.

I am now twenty years old.

I had an incredible trip.

More details to follow when I have the time.

And I'm Off!

At least, I will be very soon.

First, I'll be headed to LA for almost a week for "intense" training. Then, I hop on a plane headed to Beijing. After maybe a day in Beijing, I have a fourteen hour train ride to...somewhere. I don't remember the name. Anyway, after that I have another few hours on a bus before I arrive in Jingzhou.

Technically, I'm taking eight books with me. These books are collected into two volumes, of course. I'm taking the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy set for when I just want to sit somewhere and laugh, and I'm taking the Charles Williams reader for when I'm looking for something a bit more serious. I've wanted to re-read all of that for quite some time now.

E-mail me! I don't know how frequently I will be able to check it, but I would like to hear from some of you. Some of you may be hearing from me. If you want my address and don't have it, ask Martinez for it. If that doesn't work, you know the Cynic won. Try out his suggestions until something goes through. FOLLOW THE CORRESPONDENCE GUIDELINES! I can not stress that enough.

Well, I'll see you when I return on August 9.

Eep

In less than a week I will be arriving in Los Angeles to begin training to teach teach English in China.

How did so much time fly by so quickly?

Cruise Anger

NOTE: Please read the note on the previous entry first for semi-important information.

--------------------------------------------------

For the majority of the trip so far I have greatly enjoyed myself. Occasionally, though, I am reminded rather brutally of the collection of ignorant hicks that are travelling with me.

BACKGROUND: Today the ship had its first art auction. These auctions are an entertaining way to get high quality artwork for up to sixty percent off of gallery prices. My parents purchased three painting that were unframed. My favorite two pieces of art at the auction had starting bids of $400 and $650 and each included a new frame. I was unable to convince my parents to get either painting, of course.

SETTING: The time and location of this latest brutal reminder was approximately eleven o'clock at night in the ship's casino.

CHARACTERS: This reminder involved my mother, my father's best friend, and me.

Now, my mother was doing quite well at a slot machine. Seeing an opportunity, I reminded her of the cheaper of the two paintings that I liked. Naturally, she once again told me that there was no chance of her buying me that painting.

Upon hearing that I would like to have a $400 painting (price including new framing), my father's best friend rather rudely spat out that paying $400 for a "pretty picture" was one of the stupidest things he had ever heard of. This ignorant outburst immediately caused my blood to boil with rage.

One would think that I would have heard enough ignorant tripe from the hicks I live around to have built up a fairly strong defense against it. Sadly, the opposite seems to be true. I was so angered I let a curse word slip out in the presence of my mother (who either did not hear it or understood exactly why it slipped out). I had to battle back a rather fierce and nasty retort.

After much inner debating, I have decided to share the retort in its edited version. I have decided that, since I did think it and I almost said it, I should share it.

"You know, name here, I might have actually put some weight behind that remark if it didn't come fram a dumb*** who has probably spent multiple thousands of dollars over the course of his life to suck on sticks that have been proven to cause both cancer to those who smoke them and discomfort to those around them. So, why don't you keep your f***ing ignorant hick opinions to yourself."

I keep telling myself that I was placed with these people so that I will learn patience. Unfortunately, it would appear that a lack of stupid thoughts being thrown at me lately has caused my tolerance to decrease greatly.

Cruise Musings

NOTE: Both of the followings pieces were written while on the cruise ship on which my family is currently vacationing. As the price for internet access is ridiculously high, these will be the only two posted. The dates and times have been changed to reflect when each piece was written. As these are typed at a furious pace, please ignore any mistakes for the time being. I will review them when it isn't costing me an arm and a leg.

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I've noticed a rather interesting motif spread throughout the ship. In several places, one can find a smiling full moon etched into glass or metal with a cascading trail of its other phases that has a striking similarity to an old woman with pigtails in her hair. One can also find a variety of five point stars which are actually door handles. While I happen to like this "night sky" decor, I must say that I believe it contrasts a great deal with the overall feel of this cruise.

Think about it. This is a cruise set in the middle of the summer. This is a ship full of younger peole who both willfully and frequently expose their bodies to slowly bake in the sun and older people who seem to be in their rooms shortly after darkness falls. The room in which I am currently relaxing is even lined with paintings of various ships sailing during the day. I just can not believe that moons and stars truly fit on this ship.

With the cloud cover we have at the moment, however, the moons and stars inside will be the only ones that I see tonight. Before I came here to write this, I was standing on the top front deck. When I first walked out to the deck I could see only darkness. This darkness was quite possibly the purest absence of light I have ever seen. The wind at the front of the ship was quite strong, obviously. As I stood there, having declared the wind the dominant force and letting it have its way with me, I simply let my mind wander.

After several trivial and inane thoughts danced merrily through my mind, I noticed a difference in the darkness. I could suddenly see two different black colors on the horizon. It was as if someone had decided there was simply too much black in the night and took some of it out of the sky. This observation caused my thoughts to turn both much deeper and more introspective.

In the past five years of so, my family has experienced a great deal of tragedy. These past two years could easily be called the darkest time of my short life. Yet, though the times were often black, I never felt despair. I felt more than enough sadness and a great deal of grief, but despair never entered into my life. As cliche as it might sound, I knew that no matter how dark my life became there was Someone there that could reduce the darkness. This is a comfort that we as Christians have, and I believe that it is quite easily on of the greatest of God's gifts.

As Christians, we should want to spread the Gospel not only to share follow the Baptist battlecry ("Repent or BURN IN HELL!") but mainly to share the enormity of God's love for us. There are a number of people out there today who say things similiar to this, but I am not sure how many people actually believe it. This truth rooted itself deeper inside me tonight.

It is also a wonderful thought to stumble across a couple of weeks before my China trip. It may be cliche, but it still gives me comfort.

Bliss

I have just picked up a copy of Stephen King's The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah. I have put my current reading list on hold in order to re-read the final few chapters of part five, Wolves of the Calla. Once I have sufficiently refreshed my memory, I will be losing myself in the world of Roland of Gilead, Eddie Dean, Susannah Dean, and Jake Chambers. This makes me so incredibly happy.

In other news, I noticed today that I have fingernails. By that, I mean that I have long fingernails. I have ten separate long fingernails. This is the first time this has happened in an extraordinary long time. I hadn't even realized that I had stopped biting them. Strange how that works.

Flash! Bang!

Reason I Hate Living in the Middle of Nowhere #582: Storm Aftermath

For the past two nights this area has had a rather severe storm blow through with its full-force. I like the actual storms. I find it exhilirating to have a tremendous force of nature wailing about while I am sitting safe and dry indoors. What I hate about storms here, though, is trying to do anything after them.

Once a decently big storm passes through, our house becomes almost totally isolated. We usually lose electricity at some point during the storm. Ideally, we get our power back within five or six hours. If the wind is blowing rather hard, trees fall across the roads in several locations. There are three different roads we could travel from my house if we needed to leave. Naturally, all of these become blocked by rather large trees. It takes sometimes three or more people to move some of the trees if nobody has a chainsaw with them. Then, of course, there are all of the smaller branches and limbs that are just ripped off of the tree by the wind and rain. After this last storm, there were enough of these small branches on the road that it appeared to be green in some areas.

It's all very annoying.

Absurd

This afternoon I was driving my car listening to music when I had a sudden epiphany. There I was driving a convertible with the top down listening to a band called Garbage perform "Only Happy When It Rains." Thinking about that made me laugh quite a bit.

Crazy Week

This had been an interesting week.

On Monday, my mother had a doctor tell her that she had a suspici