A brief glimpse into the life of Andy Bodine, ep. 03

Me: I miss my toenail.

Look at me, I'm human

I'm as human as human can be. I've been thinking more about The Moviegoer, which has somehow burrowed under my skin, swam through my arteries, and somehow lodged itself in my brain. Somehow, Percy is able to bring up the topic of sin in a nonreligious sense; he seems to insist that violation of ethics is also sin. He also says that we're human because we sin.

But I'm wondering, are we human because we sin, or do we sin because we're human?

If agreement with the former half of that thought is the ethical position, then it seems that agreement with the latter half must be the religious position. It seems that we have a coin on which ethics makes up one side and religion the other. Which is right? Toss the coin. I haven't a clue.

All I know is that I'm a human and I sin. I'm a liar, a hypocrite, an idolater, a manipulator, and a ne'er-do-well. Can you expect me to be any better than that, though? I know I've disappointed my fair share of people recently, but remember that you are no different than I. Don't hold me to standards neither your nor I can ever meet; to do so would be illogical and cruel.

That said, I won't lament the fact that I'm human. It sucks, but there's a lot of us to bear the shame.

I know it's been a while since I posted. I won't say that I'm going to be more regular, but I want to. Tempus narrabit.

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Now playing: The Flaming Lips - The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song
via FoxyTunes

I'll have a real update soon, I swear

Like the title says, I'm working on it. I'm putting my thoughts in order.

Open iTunes/iPod or Windows Media Player to answer the following. Go to your library. Answer, no matter how embarrassing it is.

Open iTunes/iPod or Windows Media Player to answer the following. Go to your library. Answer, no matter how embarrassing it is.

How many songs: 2974

Sort by song title:
First Song: Absent Elements - Finger Eleven
Last Song: 96 Quite Bitter Feelings - CKY

Sort by time:
Shortest Song: Farewell to John Denver - Monty Python
Longest Song: Something in the Way - Nirvana

Sort by album:
First Song: Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles (Abbey Road)
Last Song: Dreams - Van Halen (5150)

Sort by artist:
First song: Bulletproof - A3
Last song: Take Me Away - 4 Strings

Top 5 Most Played Songs:
1. I Hate Everyone - Get Set Go
2. Elanor Rigby - The Beatles
3. It Ain't Me Babe - Bob Dylan
4. Laid to Rest - Lamb of God
5. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Californication

First 5 songs that comes up on Shuffle:
1. Phantom of the Opera - Iron Maiden
2. Paperback Writer - The Beatles
3. Counting - Heavens
4. No Tears - Scarface
5. Eels - Electro-Shock Blues

People and Searching

I've lately become acutely aware of my relations to other people. Superficially, they are easy to define, but you can't always pin these things wriggling to the wall, as Eliot would say. Indeed, the people in our lives are so many grains of sand sifting through are spread fingers; however, it is neither our responsibility nor our mission to seize them in balled fist. To do so would be to desecrate the will and sovereignty of the individual. Rather, we accept the ones lying in the lines of our calluses and bends of our hands. What a joy are these grains, seemingly small compared to ourselves yet still miniature infinities, as continuously subdividable as we are.

I've also learned the necessity of the Search in our lives, thanks to Walker Percy. He's right; according to recent polls, 85% of Americans believe in a supreme being, while 15% don't. This doesn't leave a solitary percent for a seeker. As The Moviegoer points out, I'm either a hundred miles behind my countrymen or a hundred miles ahead. But this search is more than just a religious one; science and ethics play integral roles. Through science, I could someday potentially achieve a complete knowledge of the physical nature of the universe, but my knowledge would be incomplete. That is, I could understand the universe and even the physical nature of my own body, but myself and my mind would be remainders. And so, I must search into my mind with the tools I have available: ethics, religion, and science.

Perhaps I have been led to the study of psychology by a latent need to pursue this search, but psychology too will fail to provide me complete fulfillment; it is reductionist in that it can only tell me how I am different from other people; uniqueness is only a small facet of self.

No, I need something broader, something that can remove me permanently from the malaise of the everyday mundaneness. Change and disaster are two options, repetition and revolution are two more (read Heidegger if you're confused).

I don't know where I'm going, but my feet are pointed in the right direction
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Soundtrack:
Bonnie Brae - The Twilight Singers - Powder Burns
Circumstances - Rush - Hemispheres
Gunslinger - Over It - Step Outside Yourself
The Heinrich Maneuver - Interpol - Our Love to Admire
In the Name of All That's Evil on the Earth - Get Set Go - Ordinary World

Look up, look down, look around, look ahead, but not too far

I always make the mistake of planning for the future. It doesn't take much to realize that in most cases, this is a futile enterprise. I had hoped that semester would be an easy one after crushing myself under the weight of 18 hours last semester. Unfortunately, I've gotten a burden that makes school seem simple.

Anyone who knows me is familiar with my penchant for poor metaphors. I will take the liberty of using another one. Whenever I sit on grass, I have the habit of plucking blades of it and trying to split them down the middle as precisely as I can. Even though I do this, it's often hard to tell how precise my judgment is. I often misjudge. Am I being indirect? I hope so.

o me miserum! cogno sed nescio. anima mea infirma est.
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Now playing: Eels - I'm Going To Stop Pretending That I Didn't Break Your Heart
via FoxyTunes

Requiem for a summer

Well, it's almost over. I'm excited about the school year coming soon. Frankly, I miss my friends and I'm sick of being at home.

I've been on a writing binge this summer, which really isn't saying much. I have 3 and a half poems and a (very) short story to show for my hard work. I always thought I was more of a short story writer, but it turns out I have a knack for poetry. In fact, two of the poems I've written were conceived as short fictional works, but became poems instead. I suppose it's time to let them fly into the harsh land of literary criticism where they'll either be eaten alive or soar gracefully.

Of course, that's not all I've done this summer. I've failed at getting a job, beaten several video games, visited about half of the known internet, gotten much better at bass, smoked a lot, read several books, learned new tricks, had my existential crisis, and hopefully come out better for it.

Despite these things, by summer has also been insufferably boring, but dwelling on misery is very rarely constructive. Here's hoping this next week flies by.

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Now playing: The Smiths - How Soon Is Now
via FoxyTunes

A brief glimpse into the life of Andy Bodine, ep. 02

Jonathan: That's a lot of piss.

Shades of gray

This one needs a lot of work.

The Gray

Poor pastors insist God lives in a book
And in the hearts of those who love him,
But I found him neither on white pages
Nor abiding in our black human hearts.
Neither convincing, I looked for the gray.

I scanned the floors of ethereal planes;
In view was the border of black and white.
I stalked closer and straddled the divide.
Courts and clergy insist there is no gray;
Convicts and congregations know better.

Prostrating to see a clearer image,
I tried to find God in the gray area.
Before I was aware, I was swallowed;
The gray all about me, I heard His voice.
He asked me what it was I wished to know.

Questions of Epicurus' came to mind:
If willing to stop evil, unable?
If able to stop evil, unwilling?
If both, from what gruesome void springs evil?
If neither, then why do we call you God?

His voice bade only, Wrestle me, my child.
____________________________________________________________________

I'm still decidedly atheist, but I can't help but wonder about possibilities. I feel caught between two irreconcilable beliefs: those of science and religion. I can't deny the proof science has presented to me, but spirituality is something that interests me intensely. Sometimes I wonder why I pay any mind at all to religion--it's spawned bigotry and hatred based on the beliefs and prejudices of societies ignorant of the true nature of the universe. Yet the existence of a supreme being of some sort can neither be positively confirmed or denied. And so, I've found myself scouring my mind for gray areas that may present even a modicum of compromise. Though it's not in my usual nature, I'll take a hint from Jacob and try to wrestle with this whole "God" thing.

Wait and see

I've had highs and lows, but I've never really suffered. I've felt pain, but never anguished; stumbled, but never fallen. I don't come from wealth, but I've always been comfortable. Money's tight now and then, but I've always had a roof over my head and food in my belly. I know where I am when I wake up in the morning, and if you asked me where I'll be living next month, I'd be able to tell you.

In other words, my existence is untested and therefore despicable. Twenty years and the biggest trial of my life was the product of stupidity and not circumstance. This constance and immutability is almost unbearable. There is never any change. My life has become stagnant.

I've always had respect for any person that can enjoy the value of nothing. A person sitting comfortably in her chair not fidgeting or seeming annoyed. Someone who's happy to exist, think and perhaps watch. If she seems amused, she is even greater.

In fact, it seems that anything worthwhile is born of observation and introspection, and everything beautiful is born of suffering.

I am not fool enough to hurt myself or wish for pain, so the best I can reasonably achieve is to watch and think about what I see. What I'm looking at isn't important. As soon as I'm able to experience and enjoy what I see with some modicum of wonder, I'll know I'm living correctly.

It seems that in a world where people try so hard to become something, the true challenge is to be and appreciate it.

A brief glimpse into the life of Andy Bodine, ep. 01

Andy's Mom: You really need to clean your room before Lauryn comes up.

Andy: Lauryn's not coming until Friday night. Cool your jets, turbo.

Andy's Mom: I'm not "turbo," and don't tell me to cool my jets.

Life and Shit

So, in lieu of getting a job (since bastards in Jasper won't hire me), I'm selling crap on Ebay.

The mountains suck. They're pretty for a while, but they lack anything a 20 year old male would find entertaining. I want to go swimming. BADLY. There's not even a stream nearby for canoeing.

I've been running regularly since there's no gym up here either. I'm going to have massive calves; everything up here is a hill. I could also use some booze badly. Parents' house = prohibition.

Sorry this is nothing great. There is literally nothing to write about up here. Unless you want an essay on avian wildlife, cause that's about it. Oh, and Augustus. He's the cat living on our front porch that showed up randomly one day. I'll post a picture soon.

Until then, read this blog. It's awesome:
http://www.chrishatesfreedom.com/

Sayonara.

Job Searching Sucks

So, job search summary:

Lowes: No dice
Radioshack: Not likely
Starbucks (Canton): Nope
Longhorn: Talking with the manager Tuesday
Michaels: Nothing yet
Famous Footwear: Uh-uh

Applications turning in soon:
Home Depot (Canton and Jasper)
Gamestop
Starbucks (Elijay)

Applications I'm picking up soon:
Red Lobster
Applebees

Dammit dammit dammit. I need a job.

Eleventh Hour

I wrote a poem, and I actually liked this one. Cheers.


Eleventh Hour

Looking up from our sometime midnight post,
Seeing tangled, dangling cypress serpents
Cover up the silent man in the moon,
Puffing the evening through a wooden bowl,
I wonder What is that which comes too soon?

Cicadas sing their dirge of midnight mourn,
Bereavement for a life that lasts mere weeks.
Their small insect lives are culminated
Upon sidewalk, leaking a black-ant stream--
That marching river is a Rubicon.

We are not Caesar; we have no armies,
Nor Socrates; we have but weak wisdom.
Haunted by visions of Ivan's death bed,
My voice craves to disturb the universe:
To thrice roar against what I do not know.

Instead, my protest is suspended by
The candid voice of a triumph's slave.
The sweet-thick smoke lingering by my skull
Whispers in my ear memento mori.
Though widely known, I've heard a secret.

The tobacco haze thins and dissipates,
My personal Styx and aiding spirit
Float away on the currents of the evening.
If you're present when I, too, drift away,
Hear my soul sigh alia iacta est.

The Essence of Art

Yes, it's been a while since I've posted, but all I'm putting here is my essay for Dr. Stege's final. I love me some prose. Don't steal this, or I'll kick your butt. Here goes.

The Essence of Art

Like the ebb and flow of the water on the beach and the constant marching of the ants on Lily’s plantains, time moves forward constantly and unceasingly. Sitting before her easel with her paintbrush, Lily is struck with a vision in which she realizes this. Upon this epiphany, she strikes the blurred and swirling canvas before her with a simple line—a focal point among the indistinct chaos and a symbol of permanence in a world of change. She therefore does the artist’s part in immortalizing a moment in time like other artists, authors, and musicians both before and after her. Some such artists include John Keats, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and Thomas Hardy.

In “Ode to a Nightingale,” Keats has a similar visionary experience. The nightingale pulls him from the normal procession of time with his evening song. In the world Keats leaves, “palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs” (26) and “youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies” (27). In contrast to this sad mortal plain, the land of the trance Keats enters is timeless and formless; he imagines that the “embalmed darkness” (43) veils splendid scenery and pleasures. As long as the nightingale’s song is present, Keats remains bodiless in this ageless vision where it seems “rich to die” (55). Unfortunately, this strange and wonderful bird abandons his branch and flies away, thrusting Keats confused back into time’s rushing current. Like Lily’s vision, Keats’s removed him from space and time, allowing him to fly on the “viewless wings of Poesy” (33) and interact with a sort of eternal timelessness.

Hardy also acknowledges the importance of the present; though he does so out of fear of the future. While his vision does not remove him from time, “Channel Firing” itself preserves the anxiety of the pre-World War I zeitgeist. During this time period, the world tottered on the brink of worldwide war. The “great guns” (1) that “shake the coffins” (2) are literally able to wake the dead, who believe that judgment day has arrived. One skeleton wonders if the world “Will…ever saner be;” (26) the firing naval guns indicate to him a precarious future to come. Though the concept of impending war is ominous, the advancing time cannot be stopped. Instead, Hardy freezes the few months’ time before the war in his poem. His vision envelops and encapsulates the fears and disquietude of a whole world at the verge of war.

Can a place where time stands still actually exist? Ostensibly, only mythology can offer us such a location. In “The Lotos-Eaters,” Tennyson illustrates an island that possesses an intrinsic magical property that transforms it into a visionary dreamland. Time is frozen here; Odysseus lands on “which is always seemed afternoon” (4). While his men still remember their homes, this timeless island, inundated with the odors of windblown petals and succulent fruit, bids them to disregard their past and future lives. Outside this land, “time driveth onward fast,” (85) but here, Odysseus’ men exist without care of what was or what will be. Their “half-dream” (101) state removes them from time; without past or present, time has no context.

Like a branch to a man falling from a precipice, Lily’s line is something rare to hold on to in a life that constantly marches towards death. To consider the present as Lilly, Keats, Hardy, and Tennyson do is not meaningless or sentimental; nor is it pointless to cling to these significant moments long into the future. To find a lingering moment, no matter how seemingly insignificant, is both substantial and rare. It is the essence of vision—the essence of art. I have had my vision.

Something to put in your pipe

I'm feeling cynical--not for any real reason other than that the mood pleases me. That doesn't bode well for my character, and as such, I'm going to bleed this malaise dry by overstepping my bounds in matters far beyond my comprehension. I constantly belabor topics like love and the meaning of life, and for that I'm going to have to apologize. More often than not, I make grandiose claims and try to regal everyone with advice that probably only works for my own foolish self. I guess that contemplating human nature would be appropriate.

In order to save myself from being accused of hypocrisy, it's only right that I give this rant a disclaimer. These are the ravings of a pseudo-intelligent, depraved half-wit that still chuckles at Adult Swim programming. You've been warned.

M. Scott Peck says that to defecate in one's pants is indicative of human nature. (Openness to Challenge). Don't laugh too hard at that; everyone is a frontal lobotomy or one evolutionary rung away from that behavior. Though apt, Dr. Peck's example is incomplete. He fails to mention that while soiling his pants, the human being simultaneously sips tea in fine china with his pinky out.

Am I being nebulous? I'm attempting to express my contempt for highbrow faux-intellectualism that ignores the that which is blatantly disgusting by distracting itself with "higher aspirations." I've probably called myself a philosopher before, and for that I ought to submit myself to eternal penance. I don't recall meeting more than a handful of people worthy to be called philosophers. If you call yourself a philosophe--I can just barely believe that I've known someone to call herself this--you are a fool, unless you are also a very specific type of 18th century French writer. Love of wisdom has become love of one's self. We are far too interested in feeding our ravenous egos with an undue sense of superiority at a table of morbid pretentiousness.

For my own part, I'm going to handle the term with more than a modicum of care. The right word to use: thinker. At least the claims made by that term are less heinously incorrect.

From Montaigne, an actual philospher:
"I have always felt grateful to that girl from Miletus who, seeing the local philosopher with his eyes staring upwards, constantly occupied in contemplating the vault of heaven, tripped him up, to warn him that there was time enough to occupy his thoughts with things above the clouds when he had accounted for everything lying before his feet. You can make exactly the same reproach as that woman made against Thales against anyone concerned with philosophy: he fails to see what lies before his feet."

Take this to heart, "philosophers."

I feel better now. That was better than a cigarette. I like to walk on the dark side every now and then, but I may never know why I only really like my writing when it's invective and incendiary.
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Soundtrack:
N.I.B - Primus with Ozzy - Nativity in Black 2: a Tribute to Black Sabbath
It Ain't Me Babe - Bob Dylan - Another Side of Bob Dylan
Black Dog - Led Zeppelin - IV
Check Your Head - Buckcherry - Buckcherry
What You Live By - Harvey Danger - Little By Little

I got to be a joker, I just do what I please

It's been a while since I've blogged. Mostly because I don't have a lot to say. I've been in high spirits lately, so I haven't had anything to worry about. Consequently, I've not been thinking quite like I used to. That's okay, though. It's like I've had a two week long period of meditation, and change is good anyways.

That's not to say that I haven't been busy. I've been working my way through piles of schoolwork, but it's not been that much of a challenge. How can it be, when my assigned reading is enjoyable, and the other work besides that is simple? I get plenty of time to mess about and accommodate my whims with considerable ease.

So, now for some philosophy. If you want to call it that. I've found that life was really only as hard as I was making it, and I was making it too damn hard. I concentrated too much on petty things like pain and loneliness, but they were not as omnipresent as I imagined. What can I say? I take too much enjoyment in pitying myself.

I feel like I've broken out of a shell. I've emerged from a chrysalis like some sort of butterfly. But a badass butterfly. That has a beard. And plays bass. And needs a haircut. And comes up with awful analogies to describe himself, now that he thinks about it.

Right now, I fell like "Hey Jude" was sung about me. It's kinda what I'm going through right now. Good things to come, I hope.

I'm tired of the old shit. Let the new shit begin.

That's about all I have so say right now, except perhaps "Esperance!" but I never liked Henry the IV.
____________________________________________________________________
Soundrack:
I'm Only Sleeping - The Beatles - Revolver
The Snake - Witchcraft - Witchcraft
Fallen Leaves - Billy Talent - Billy Talent II
Old Shit/New Shit - Eels - Blinking Lights and Other Revelations
Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced - Dropkick Murphys - Blackout

Did I forget to mention...

...That I also love running? 5:51.46 for the mile. I've accomplished at least one of my goals for this year by getting my mile under six minutes. Now for those abs.

Oh, and I like the rain. Everything about it.

So good it hurts

I'll admit it. I'm a pretty uncomplicated guy. If you take my pseudo-philosophical musings (read: bullshit) and set them aside, you'll be faced with a simple man--not in the sickeningly trite Steve Miller Band song sense, though. Just the earthy, organic, and hopefully genuine way. Lacking such complexity, it follows that my pleasures are just as simple. I've spent so long concentrating on problems I've been confronted with over the past half-year or so that I rarely mention what makes me happy. So, in lieu of faux intellectual depth, I'm going to talk about the little pleasures that I relentlessly pursue.

Music: I'm fairly certain that if humankind shook off the whole supreme-being idea, there'd be a powerful and influential church of music. With all due respect to literature and art, music is, to me at least, the single most apt medium of emotion. Something in its auditory nature invokes my muse, improving my own literary exploits. Unfortunately, I'm only a mediocre musician, but that's improving. While I'll probably never be able to sing very well, my bass-playing is improving quite a bit. Sometime this summer, I will hopefully get my hands on a Rickenbacker. It's truly the quintessence of German musical engineering. My Thunderbird is definitely adequate for what I'm doing now, but if I do start doing gigs, I'm going to need something a little more up to snuff. Which reminds me, can someone name a few good blues/blues-rock songs? Blues bass more fun to play than I anticipated.

People: I'm drifting back to my old humanist ways. I've returned to looking for goodness in others. I can't say I'm the perfect idealist; I'll admit that for every person with an ocean of good within them, there's a score of shallow wells. I'm happy to say that I've found a few of the aforementioned oceans, and they've all been valuable and true friends. For some reason, though, I don't feel like I come off as the friendly type. I think some people find me intimidating. Oh well, I'll put a positive spin on that and purport to have hidden depths. Nothing like a little self-aggrandizement, eh?

Comedy: Perhaps I'm not the joker I used to be, but I still love to laugh and make others laugh. I wrote a stand-up routine once, but I doubt its quality. Laughing has always come easily to me, even when not appropriate. Perhaps this is why I'll always pick a stupid comedy over an overwrought drama. At least I'll laugh a bit at the immature humor.

Well, that's all I feel like talking about. I have more pleasures, but I'll start getting political or philosophical. Or I'll start talking about how much I like the sins of the flesh. All of them. Tonight is not a night for such things, though.

____________________________________________________________________
Soundtrack:
DARE - Gorillaz - Demon Days
You'll Be Sorry - The Greenhornes - Dual Mono
Send Me Your Money - Suicidal Tendencies - Lights... Camera... Revolution!
Caress Me Down - Sublime - Sublime
We All Look Elsewhere - The Classic Crime - Albatross

A letter to my friends

A letter to my friends:

You are going to die.

Think about that. Think about how hard that is to accept. Oh, surely, we know philosophically and hypothetically that we will someday kick the proverbial bucket, but rarely do we consider the actual meaning of the phrase. I could list a plethora of metaphors and clichés, but I hardly think that will further the effect. Try really hard; it took me months to finally realize the fatal solemnity and truthfulness of that simple statement.

So, you don't like to think about unpleasant things? There's no reason to turn a blind eye to life's only guarantee (if you think you're cute throwing "taxes" into that statement, I'll kick you in the teeth). Accept this, and realize the importance of time. I'm not trying to guilt anyone into being a better person; we have churches and idealists for such matters. Just be aware that it's imminent and definite.

If I'm raining on your parade, allow me to offer you an umbrella. The point of me typing this is not to worry you, nor am I staying up late to tell you how to conduct your lives--rather; I want to share something positive and uplifting with you, and I hope you have the wherewithal to read what I'm saying.

Don't worry. I haven't gone all religious-y. I just want you to know that you all put far too much pressure on yourselves. You thin friends tell me you're fat, you pretty friends tell me you're ugly, you smart friends tell me you're unintelligent, and you kind friends tell me you're unthoughtful. Stop it. You are all wonderful people in your own ways.

I know some of you guys are lamenting about school, pulling your hair out over your futures, gritting your teeth over money, despairing your unresolved emotional issues, or getting migraines trying to work out some philosophical problems. Life sucks. None of these worries may ever be resolved, and you're letting them dominate your behavior.

Above that, you know, at least a little bit, that you're going to die someday. Sounds bad, I know, but think hard for me for a second. Why be afraid to die if you're afraid to live happily? Fearing life will not help you. Remember, there's nothing wrong with having a good time; as soon as got here, you started dying. Growth, maturity, improvement--all are just preparation for death in the cadence of your life. Might as well dance most of the way.

My name is Andy, and I say unto you: be happy in spite of the misery of life, and you're one step closer to conquering death.
___________________________________________________________________________
Soundtrack:
There's a Million Ways To Sing the Blues - The Features - Exhibit A
Wake Up - The Living End - State of Emergency
The Way We Get By - Spoon - Kill the Moonlight
Do What You Want - OK Go - Oh No
Overdose - Hurt - Vol. 1

It ain't no big thing

I feel like babbling, but I don't want to philosophize. I guess I'll actually talk about my live and plans for the next year whilst keeping metaphors at a minimum. I wouldn't want anyone to think I was witty.

First off, my cravings are back. I'm jittery and irritable and cold and queasy and generally unhappy. I'm chewing on a pen now to try and trick my mind, but I don't think I'm outsmarting anyone. The patch is a little expensive for me at the moment. I just hope I don't get fat.

Other than that, I'm doing well. Christmas was great. My parents completely surprised me with a Nintendo Wii. It's awesome, but my arms and upper back are really sore. Zelda's a blast, though. Nothing like simulated sword fighting to brighten up your day. Got some nice clothes that I picked out and forgot about, too. Overall, a great day shared with my family, who were uncharacteristically tolerable.

I also got to hang out with Chris and Nicole again, which was awesome. We played Wii Sports and Guitar Hero, and all was well. I used the gift card they got me to buy Zelda. You guys are awesome! And I love your roommate's kitty.

New Year's was fun as well. More Wii playing, and even more drinking. My jager is gone now, unfortunately, but Justin got Guinness, so it made up for it. Andrew gave me a straplock system and speed knobs for my mighty axe, and Jeff got me some cool band shirts. I feel really guilty since people got me things, knowing I couldn't afford a return gift, but I could better spend that energy being grateful for my friends and their generosity. Multi gratum amorumque.

Those are the highlights of my break, but all good things must come to an end, meaning I have to go back to school. It won't be so bad; I'm digging my schedule since the only core class I'm taking is Latin. There's also quite a few things I'd like to accomplish as soon as I can.

Firstly, I'd like to get better definition on my abs. Not just normal abs either. I want to be able to stick coal in my navel and make diamonds by doing crunches. Also in fitness, I still want to get that mile time under six minutes. I'm surprised to find that I've actually lost weight despite the delicious holiday fare, so I may actually meet that goal soon after returning to Mercer.

Secondly, I want to focus a bit more on bass playing. It looks badass with the visual tweaks I've made (thanks to Andrew). I've also been fiddling around with some amp settings and pickup volumes, and I've found some good crunch on the lower notes. It's not perfect; ideally it would sound like soulless, jackbooted monstrosities crushing the bones of the damned under their iron heels, but that'll probably require a better amp. I also raised the action a little bit (just a minor bridge fix) to cut the fret buzz when playing G sharp on the G string, and it actually improved the instrument's overall intonation. Who knew?

Thirdly, I thought I was going to talk about dating, but I realized that I'm pretty happy on my own. Dating's not something I'm seeking anymore, so I figure I'll just chill and take something if it comes along and looks good enough.

Finally, I cautiously deem myself back to my old self. As in the days of yore during the long hiatus between girls #2 and #3. Other than my brain wanting nicotine, I'm in high spirits and a good mood. I'm not a whiny pseudo-emo pissant anymore. I'll be surprised if people recognize me next semester.

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Soundtrack:
There Is a Light That Never Goes Out - The Smiths - The Queen Is Dead
LSF - Kasabian - Kasabian
Let's Talk About Spaceships - Say Hi To Your Mom - Numbers & Mumbles
Cool James - Harvey Danger - Little By Little
Kiss Me Deadly - Reel Big Fish - Cheer Up!