Second floor Cretin is my former floor. They are still the floor I belong to in spirit, it’s just that my physical body ended up on fifth floor. Anyways, Cretin 2 does happen to be, this year at least, the best/highest caliber male floor on campus. Fifth floor can’t really hold a candle to the coolness that is second floor … maybe it’s the dude who smokes in his room up here, maybe it’s the loud music at all hours from right next door, maybe it’s the child right below me who is rapidly losing his hearing to an incredible set of speakers playing less-than-incredible music at higher-than-safe levels. But that’s neither here nor there.
This week, Residence Hall Association held a series of activities for homecoming week and, taken all together, they were deemed something like the “Residence Hall Olympics”. Or a title to that effect. Now, three activities were planned in which a floor sent participants (participantS) to compete. Second floor Cretin happened to completely dominate the first event, the tug-o-war. And by dominate, I mean completely crush all opposition. Continuing on: the commonly agreed upon idea of “Olympics” is for a floor/team to advance from the first event to the next events in a progression (quarter finals, semi-finals, etc.).
A progression.
The next competition involved plucking gummy worms from cream pies using one’s mouth. Now, considering that Olympics are a team sport that progresses from one event to the next, wouldn’t it make sense that the competition that Cretin 2 faced in the pie eating contest would be both a.) a participant of the previous competition and b.) comprised of greater than one (1) member. Neither of these happened to be true of the single female representing Dowling, who repeatedly pulled gummy worms from various pies without any other floor members present and without Dowling having even participated in the tug-o-war. This left Cretin 2 asking the questions a.) What gives? and b.) Could someone explain this?
That brings us to tonight. Earlier this evening, carrying cowbells, airhorn, the imperial march blaring, wearing our Southcampus t-shirt, we went to fight for our pride. We went to battle against immorality and prove without a doubt that cheaters never win. My throat still hurts from screaming during the relay in which we faced five Dowling women. In terms of time, we beat them by a little over 1 second. However, the judge made a strange call. She determined that we broke a rule in the race. Sound fair? What if I added: that rule wasn’t there at the beginning. Arbitrarily, they decided to apply a penalty of five (5) seconds to our time. A penalty for not following rules that didn’t exist wasn’t mentioned before the relay.
Muddy and dejected, with only two bins of gummy worms to show for their fight for justice, Cretin 2 left the playing field.
It’s not the inconsistent application of a changing ruleset, nor the endorsement of a hall (Dowling) that didn’t come close to following the rules, and it wasn’t even the fact that Cretin lost. It’s the principal of the thing. I mean, at college you have to throw away your preconceptions about people and your inhibitions and just learn to endorse things that, in your earlier years, you would have thought yourself “too cool” to participate in. You have to look at the world with an open mind and a down-to-earth attitude.
What I saw this past week was an entire floor doing just that; throwing away their inhibitions and preconceived notions and whole-heartedly endorsing the spirit of competition. What I hated to see was the way in which they were continually cut down by hairs being split against them in the name of making things “fair” and “open to all”.
If you compete, you have to play by the rules. That means entering by the rules and participating by the rules. Cretin 2 played by the rules and fought the fair fight. Maybe next time, justice will prevail.
I have had this carnation in my room for sometime. It was so vibrant and full of life for so long but it’s time for blooming was bound to pass. Today I noticed it finally withered and faded. I should take it out and throw it away. Is it worth saving? Is something beautiful now past worth remembering only in our minds, where beauty remains unspoiled, or does a dried memory serve as a more powerful reminder of things past and the importance of valuing them? The western sun streamed in and cast the flower’s shadow on the wall; fading slowly, gently. And as the evening light drifted away and died, part of me died as well.
Currently I am listening to “Pavane for a Dead Princess” by Ravel. It’s from one of those classical mix CD’s - so I guess it’s rather like “pop” clasical. It’s a wonderful song; the most beautiful oboe I have heard in a while. Whoops something new is playing now, well if it isn’t the “Minute Waltz” by Chopin; fun song to play; it lays under the fingers quite well.
Dinner was good; I am getting a handle on when to eat and when not to around here - it is difficult to make the transfer from eating at home when food is just laying around to eating on a cafeteria schedule. Either way, there isn’t any food in the room other than oatmeal so I am pretty much immune to snacking; one less temptation to avoid. My gym class has taught me quite a bit about nutrition. For example, there are 3,500 calories in a pound, so if you eat 3,500 fewere calories per week, you lose one pound per week. It’s that simple. Easier said than done, however. That reminds me, I think I need to chop about 3,500 calories per week out of my diet. I have a couple of pounds to lose. You might be thinking “surely you jest?” but here’s the deal: Maybe they’re already gone, I don’t weigh myself at all. I just go by feel. They measured body fat in gym and I found mine to be between 7 and 8 percent. I am pretty sure I am still at my 175% on bench, so I am happy. What the heck am I doing, I never share stuff like this with anybody. Sounds too much like ego inflating, which I adamently oppose in any way, shape, or form. Besides, I don’t even care that much about my weight, so why should you.
Everything is going right for me. I don’t get it. Things feel out of control sometimes, but it turns out everything is still just working right. It is a very strange thing for things to be going so well. It’s funny, I look at the past three months and I know exactly where my emotional lowest low point was. I had gone out to play football in the rain and promptly got injured pretty bad; I got hit in the back and heard my spine crack from my tailbone all the way up to the base of my neck from the whiplash. I went back to my dorm room and crumpled onto the floor and cried. Just cried. I experienced the deepest emotional, physical, and hopeless pain that I had felt in years. I just crumpled. Since then, I have come close to that, but I think maybe, just maybe I have plumbed the emotional depths of sadness and things won’t get me down that far for sometime. I hold hope that this is true.
Someone will be moving in across from me. He is a freshman and will fill the vacant single across from me. I think he’ll be a good guy; he moved down here to be closer to the math and science classes on South Campus.
Speaking of South Campus, we printed up our shirts and they look great! I’d show you a picture if I had a digital camera, but maybe someone will take a picture of me or somebody else at homecoming and I can then share them.
I got an account at eBay and at PayPal - that way if I happen to see a particularly stellar deal on vintage gear including these:
Pioneer SX-1250
Pioneer SX Series
Marantz 2265B
Infinity Qb series
Infinity RS 6000
Infinity RS-III A/B
Pioneer HPM-100
Pioneer HPM Series
Kenwood VR-7070
Here’s the first time my plan has been revealed to anyone: I am looking to assemble an absolutely dominate home theater system (minus the TV, that can come some other time; I’ll make do with anything right now) at the lowest possible cost. I think I will be able to fund it all (with money to spare) from a certain project that I will soon be working on with Justin; ambitious, no? Currently I am looking at some auctions, made contact with the Audio Society of Minnesota, and will be calling two places: Fette’s Electronics in Faribault and the Speaker Clinic in … well I don’t know where it is, but it’s a suburb of the cities. On top of all that, I sent an e-mail off to the Needle Doctor so we can replace the belt and cartridge to get the Dual 1245 in tip-top shape again. Finally, the SX-850 will be going in to either HiFi Sound or Audio Perfection for it’s checkup. We have to make sure all the big caps are still working, that the DC offset is within acceptable limits, and that there are no leaky electrolytics or bad transistors. That’s all the terminology I know for now. I am hoping with my electrical engineering classes in these coming years, I will be able to use the St. Thomas resources to order parts, etc. for these old amplifiers and restore them right in the electrical engineering labs as a learning experience - I honestly think this will work and I am looking forward to it greatly.
But I have run off on a tangent. This evening I believe I will do some philosophy and some calc II; both very fun. Except I still need to sort out some of these math problems from these other two sections; I may have done fine on the test but I want to really understand this stuff.
I decided I like learning. I like my classes. I like school.
I’m not going to say some of the things I want to say because this is a public log. Then again, withholding things would be me putting myself under the illusion that people actually read this! I realized today that when you are ugly on the outside, you have to do your best to be beautiful on the inside. ‘Cause let’s face it, that’s all ya got. Am I saying beautiful people can afford to act like jerks and get away with it? I’m not saying they can, i’m saying they do.
Figured out “Music of the Night” from Phantom of the Opera on piano - sounds surprisingly good. Except I am missing half of the song because I haven’t heard it in so long. I better listen to it and figure out the rest. In other music, I was listening to track 9 of the Will I maxi-single by Ian Van Dahl on the Column II’s and I almost fell out of my seat. It sounded amazingly buttery. I don’t know if you have all found that activity that gives you pleasure, makes you happy, no matter what. I am blessed that this is one of the things I can do that will always make me feel better … no matter what. It’s a wonderful security blanket.
Quality quotes:
“I merge slowly so I can listen for a crunch or a beep.” -Ma Meech One person seated at table, with all chairs pulled out as if everyone just left “What is this, a John Nash study session?”
-Dr. VanFleet “I’m not a cheerful person, Marlene. I just laugh a lot.” -Nijo, Top Girls, Act One, Scene 1
“So does stereotyping mean typing with two hands?”
So get this; 23 fighter jets sold for 1 Euro. Sure, they’re outdated, but ONEEURO?. I guess its “symbolic” but honestly. Those airplanes could be scrapped and the parts sold for thousands of dollars. Maybe it was a diplomatic gesture? Either way, they should’ve sold them on eBay - they would have made a pretty penny there.
On a more somber note, my English professor suffered a bad, bad fall down a staircase this past weekend. He completely shattered his right forearm and had surgery earlier today to put pins and plates into his arm to keep everything in place. He plans to only be gone for this week and he will definitely be missed. Please join me in praying for his speedy and complete recovery.
Finally, Matthew sent me one of the best e-mails I have received from anyone anywhere in a long time. He’s an awesome kid and is going far. I need to get his autograph so I can sell it on eBay when he is uber famous.
John will not jump out of an airplane today as planned. That event has been rescheduled to next week. I really hope he makes it ok when he does jump, I guess this place has only had one accident in the ten years it has been open. No, the guy didn’t die, he just broke his legs. That’s not too bad, right? Not that I would love to break my legs - but good lord it would be better than dying.
I had the most wonderful shower today. I came from a difficult leg day and hopped on in there, turned the hot water way up, and soaked for a long time. I got out, dried off, put on some clothes, sat down, and felt like a wet rag draped across the chair. I was that relaxed. I highly recommend hot long showers to any of you who need to relax; they work wonders.
Oh, and on the way back from that workout, I saw an albino squirrel. It was bounding across the road in a flowing ribbon of white, oblivious to the fact that it was different. Anyways, it stopped once it crossed the road but I couldn’t get close enough to see if it’s eyes were red; I guess almost all albinos have red eyes. Now, I’m not particularly superstitious, but does it mean anything for an albino squirrel to cross one’s path? It would be nice if we didn’t think about how we fit in so much; if only we could be oblivious to our obvious differences.
I like the idea of Promise Keepers; except I wouldn’t join. I am really not much for joining organizations like that; I feel like it would be whole-heartedly endorsing every aspect of that institution, which is almost impossible for me to do with any organization. My unwillingness to commit to a political group/party is testament to my inability to “agree” with everything they say. I have no idea how I will decide who to vote for.
You try to do the right thing and end up running in pointless circles.
If I were to make a rough estimate, I would say I have listened to this song quite literally over 1,000 times and, although it may sound cliche, each time I find something new. The song is by George Winston and it is from his album Summer. It is called “Where Are You Now.” It randomly (literally randomly, as that’s what the player was set to) began playing just now and I felt an urgent need to write. Just now, in this past listening, I heard something in the song; it is saying ‘where are you now,’ the very rise and fall of the melodic line beautifully articulates that idea better than any lyrics could. And the title, the title is not a question, it’s a statement. A question indicates a limited scope of thought; the person is searching for a specific answer and a solution. But a question without the question mark is indicative of much more. It’s the question combined with the gentle sigh, the gaze off into the distance, and the memories gently wafting past the window of consciousness; all these rolled into a title.
Where Are You Now.
I’ve listened to this song on some of my happiest days, my lowest days, some of the warmest most beautiful days of the year and some of the most bitter cold nights of the deep winter. I’ve listened to it on tape, through an old boombox, out of an expensive hi-fi system, and through headphones. I’ve learned to play it, forgotten, and learned again. I’ve listened to it in terms of melody, its placement in the album, in terms of emotion, and in terms of the atmosphere and scenery it evokes. You have to understand, this song is a part of me. I am sure you have the same song, too. The one that brings up that emotion or that memory. Now imagine that song bringing up instead a raft of experiences and seasons and times of your life. It’s quite a bit like looking at your oldest pair of tennis shoes and recalling what you have been through with them.
Where Are You Now.
If there was a soundtrack to my life, this would be the last track, the impression that you were left with when the disc stoped spinning and slowly turned to rest. It would be the final statement, the one that summarized everything before but made its own lasting impression as well. It would be the closing theme, the exit music, the tune when the credits were rolling. I’m writing because I want you to understand, feel, what this is like. What what’s like? Although I leave that ambiguity to your own fertile imaginations, remember not to put me in a box of misconceptions, misinformation, and narrow perception.
And our English teacher was talking about split infinitives. He made the very interesting point that, in fact, the rule for split infinitives is an old remenant from Latin. Additionally, it really has no place in our language. A direct quote:
Split infinitives are everywhere! Take Star Trek, for example. They say “To boldy go where no man has gone before.” They don’t say “To go boldy” they say “To boldy go.” “To BOLDLY go.” You don’t fuck with the guy who says it that way!
Then this stunned silence falls; you could tell he was joking and he was building up to that … but considering this is our English professor, a man who has at his disposal more words than we can possibly imagine. It was a good tie in to our discussion (and listening session) of Eminem as a poet, though. Never a dull moment in English.
I keep having these epiphanies. I mean, I was going to check my mail today and stopped to watch part of The Truman Show; it turns out it was that scene that is the lynchpin of the entire movie: when Truman gets out and realizes what his world really was. For some reason, that scene just threw a switch inside of me. I feel like I am in this post-meditative state of acute, powerful concentration and equally intense calm. How can five minutes out of a movie do that to you? It’s strange, I am back at the room now and I will be making a list of things I have to do. I haven’t been able to sort out everything so I need to write it down. For once, however, I don’t feel worried or even agitated. I just decided that’s what I was going to do because that’s what would be best. No hesitation. No wailing or nashing of teeth.
I keep having these epiphanies.
Lately, whenever I am walking around campus, I feel like there should be some acoustic track playing in the background, with the singer weaving a sad and bittersweet ballad. I am way past the point of feeling sorry for myself but I still get that mental picture of me (or someone in a movie) keeping on keeping on and the music in the background tugging at the emotions of those watching. That is most likely a sign I should start walking places with people; you can day-dream yourself right out of this world if you aren’t careful. It’s like that part in Notting Hill where he walks along and the seasons change.
The wind this high up really blows with strength. Things have to be really firmly rooted to withstand the constant pressure and those particularly strong gusts.
I have two things to share. Patrick Moore does indeed play the xylophone. This will make the previous link make sense. Secondly, FlyGuy is fun to play when you are bored. It’s not particularly complex and it’s a great idea with awesome music and amazing artistry.
Here on the St. Thomas campus, Cretin, Grace, and Loras hall were all designed by architect Cass Gilbert. Even though this is a common known fact, I was surprised to learn we live in buildings designed by such a prominent name in architecture. The part of the story that most people don’t know, however, is that James J. Hill, the railroad tycoon owner of the Great Northern Railroad and resident of St. Paul donated some of the money to build these buildings. For this reason, there were originally four 5-story red brick buildings, lined up and quite close to one another and built to resemble the boxcars on a railway train. Unfortunately, we are missing one so the effect is not nearly as strong, but these relics of 1895 continue to surprise and fascinate me as they come with all the marks of character of really old buildings. No floor is exactly the same, few rooms are identical, the ceilings are high, and the windows are big. It’s truly a unique experience to live here.
On that note, I was sitting at the computer reading zeldman.com today and heard a strange sound, it was a loud and rather persistent hissing like air being let of a tire. Naturally, I got up to investigate. Turns out it was the bleeder valves on the radiators shooting warm streams of air to make way for the hot water. That’s one of the things they have kept here since the 1890’s: hot water heat. It felt really strange that I didn’t know radiators do that the first time they are turned on - you really start to realize the age of the building when you don’t even understand it’s heaters.
Some thoughts from Philosophy. On Buddha, “Can I be enlightened? You can’t because there’s no you. When you stop worrying about yourself and realize you don’t exist, you can be enlightened.” On the wrong questions, “Of course you can ask the wrong questions. It’s like a guy who comes in with an arrow in his neck and the doctor asks ‘So, where exactly were you standing when this happened? How is arthritis? Have you been eating plenty of vegetables? Some questions are just wrong.” This class sure is thought provoking - I feel like my narrow view of the world has been stretched and stretched and it feels good to see other views and criticize my own. Maybe liberal arts isn’t such a bad idea after all.
What is better, 100 acquaintances or a few close friends? Why?
Sometimes you feel lost and broken, like an inadequate part of a larger machine. A machine that no longer needs you and marches on without you. Sometimes you feel like the outdated piece that was tossed into the junk heap, ready to work but whose function is no longer needed. Sometimes you feel like the used, the seen-through, the loser, the target, the mis-represented, enigmatic, used-up.
Tonight, that wasn’t how I felt.
I’ve missed journaling in the past couple of days, and for once I won’t make an attempt to catch you all up on the details of my life. I would rather say that I am working towards inner peace day by day. Tonight was one more step in the right direction, one cadence of the march closer. I am helping my friends and they are helping me. It is a wonderful balance, a beautiful dance of mutual support. The movie was wonderful and this room is too. I owe some people some support, I hope to provide that tomorrow.
These people I know are so wonderful.
I was walking today and I realized how beautiful this world is. Don’t brush that off as sentimental drivel. Go back and read that first sentence again. The early tinges of fall gently colored the wind as I walked along, seeing love. I felt in touch with that aspect of all those people around, I could feel a palapable sense of emotion between and I could resonate with it. In doing so I learned. I learned what they feel, how they feel it, who they feel it for. And as I stood, feeling those emotions that those people felt, I looked up at the sky and said “life really is beautiful.” And it is.
And so I must do my homework. Not now, but tomorrow. I love it; there sure isn’t too much of it; just enough to make it fun. This philosophy class has me thinking from all angles about our very existence while my English class stretches my ability to express myself. I hope, I really do hope, that a fragment of the elegance and wit I strive for here on a daily basis (I emphasize the ‘strive’ not the ‘achieve’) shows through in the writing that I craft for these classes. Regardless of the quality of that writing, I have connected with all of my professors on a personal level and that, to me, is of indispensible value.
It is late and it is early. “Where Are You Now” from Summer by George Winston is playing for the third time, (or is it the thousandth) and calm floods me. This album is my favorite without question, doubt, or hesitation. In addition, the ‘best of’ George Winston album woke me up for many months of high school in the distant past of sophmore year; listening to some of those songs brings back wonderful memories of sun-soaked blinds leaking light into my cozy room, the music coaxing me from my bed and gently announcing the new day. I will listen again knowing these songs still announce something new awaits.
This post will be full of links. First of all, I finished my profile at waferbaby.com - I am especially happy with how the tumbledry image turned out - I hope to continue refining that idea until I get something to stick up there in the header (see that orange bar thing?) and make things look better. That said, I’ve been having some very interesting vintage audio gear discussions with the folks over at audiokarma dot org. But wait, there’s more. I need to once again link to the metal 40 pound hard pad that RedOctane makes. What is it with me and really heavy and big electronic stuff? Anyways, wouldn’t it be great to play DDR in the comfort of your own home with your shoes on? I’ve been looking around for a new belt and needle for the ol’ Dual 1245 record player. Things are looking promising. Found the Audio Society of Minnesota; looks like they have some awesome projects going. Really loving some of the new vocal mixes from The Cynic Project, a fantastically successful local trance project of sorts. I really like how great this Celica looks - I wish they would get those dang women out of the pictures though, they really ruin it. No, I’m not gay, but there is a time and a place for everything and I do not connect scantily clad females with muscular cars. The juxtaposition still strikes me as strange. I see this page at least 12 times a day. I’ve also found the nearest Goodwill stores, pawn americas, pawn shops in the area, and apparently the pawn shop voted “best pawn shop” by Twin Cities magazine … “American Pawn Shop.” Why all these thrift shops? To find that Pioneer SX-1250 of course. I’m not going to get scalped on ebay and then eat the shipping cost as well; I am going to find myself that receiver. Bah, good luck to me. Guess we all need a hobby, don’t we? They’re quite healthy. Next link I found in the paper, it’s about sleep and features Garfield the cat. Strange, no? Either way, I am starting to see the importance of sleep; I really underestimated it before. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can replace the value of a good night of solid, uninterrupted sleep.Finally, a good link to use to pass some hours is the city creator at CityCreator.com; it’s really quite nifty. I made my own and e-mailed it to my friends! I made a cute little city where it was snowing and everything.
What on earth am I doing with my time? It’s off to homework again.