I can't stand those pictures so I'm blogging again

Its late and the end of a long week, I can't sleep, feeling drained, and tired, content, but muddled. I found these pictures, and I don't think I've posted them yet. Long day, and long week but only 14 weeks of school left. Only 14 more weeks, seems so close, so near, like standing with your nose on the glass of a window that goes all the way to the floor. Your 30 stories up and only an inch away from the edge, and while you are not afraid, you are . . . . tense, alert, and more aware. I fear that I've started to ramble now, it's to warm in here. I'm in a sort of film noir mood, it should be drizzling, a cool wet breeze flowing outside my window. I need a desk with a lamp, a phone and a calender. I need a hat to wear off kilter, and a chair to lean back in with my feet up. Where is Gutman? Where is Sam Spade when you need him? Atmosphere so thick you could get lost in it. It's a sort of slow night, warm and close, I want out of it, out of here, to drive and listen to Holly Cole long into the cool night, driving fast, listening to the sound of the bass, wanting to sleep, longing to dream, waiting for the morrow, with it's promise of a fresh day.

Get plenty of sleep and eat well when you can.

Back in the saddle. . . . .

It's been way too long, so much has happened, and I've so out of practice. Forgive me if I'm a little rusty - its been a while. Blogging is so different from other forms of communication, these long monologues where I just sit at the computer and "curse a bit". I could tell you about camp, where I got to spend three weeks with 14 teenagers, cleaning dishes, mopping floors, and more importantly trying to teach them how to live their faith. I could regale you with tales of bathroom cleaning horrors, stories involving fire, icy hot, or early morning conversations with insomnia sufferers. Sunrises over the lake, long drives on my day's off. Watching the tides roll in and out. I could tell you about the college ministry I've become a part of, or of the woman who is foremost on my mind these days. . . .

. . . .but that would be telling

Instead I'm going to be boring, I'll tell you about my day. Ha - there's nothing you can do about it - this is a monologue remember! Well I would but, honestly it was so boring that I barely paid attention. Just the highlights then, if you're good I might tell you how one of my TCL'ers burnt his nipple (it was my day off).

I'm sleeping on the porch these days, if you've ever slept outside in a real bed then you don't have to ask why. This porch is almost perfect too, no fierce wind, just a nice breeze, no rain, no bugs, just the sounds of country life, and fresh air. Almost perfect - and a few weeks ago it was perfect, but the sun has shifted such that the rosy fingered dawn that child of the morning, can now shine fully on my up turned face. Rousing our hero at day's first light. He is able after much effort, to tilt his head the 15 degrees or so that is needed to become again the gentle sleeper of moments before, but still the daily ritual is one that wars against his soul.

But wait my story gets better, I could not find a tie this morning, or at least I could not find one that went with a dress shirt that was not wrinkled. I had to settle on a man-orange shirt, and no tie - and I had to abort my attempt to grow a soul patch. I have a certain aversion to seeing myself clean shaven, it unnerves me. That great expanse of white, the second edition my chin out where the world can see and revel in it. I feel that all my credibility is gone, that no one could possibility take me seriously. Give me scruff and I feel, scrappy, strong, and decisive. A beard and I become a wise older brother, soul patch and I am not sure, but you are not sure as well and while you are caught off guard by the sight of it I swoop in and accomplish what I've a mind to. I don't do goatees - nuf said. But this morning I was clean shaven, and after struggling to button that top collar button this morning, I felt like a naked man wearing a belt two sizes to small.

"But Neil" some of you are crying out, (hecklers - you know who you are, and whats - more I do to!), "But Neil why button the top button, you were unable to find a tie!" I though I had escaped, but classmates seeing a man, who was free and unfettered, sought to remedy this by loaning me one of the offending objects. Chuck took our pictures, mine were so good that he felt upon examing them that he needed to reshoot. I guess in the same way some stores don't want to hire unphotogenic people, photographers don't want to take pictures of unphotogenic people, and the sight of me in a tight collar, clean shaven, is enough to frustrate the best of photographers. The first sitting results reminded me of Dwight from the Office, and I can see Dwight faintly in the second sitting as well.

This was the fifth and final attempt

I jetted home to get into real clothes and to work some photoshop magic on my portrait, if I was a better man I would say "warts and all", after tweaking the light levels a bit, and adjusting the color levels, I was a bit happier. The rest of my day was uneventful, just playing around in the lab working on deriving the equations that govern the fluid dynamics of turbines - ughhhh (don't let me fool you - it's easier than it sounds)

After Photoshop

Once done with lab I jumped in the car and drove to Moscow, hit the Co-op and bought an overpriced something that I ate on the way to Bucers. For those of you who don't know Bucer's is only the most amazing Coffeehouse-Pub-Bookstore in the world. Once there I discovered a new and wonderful thing to do. Take the flowers that you have picked for someone special, flowers that she will never see being to far away and place them on page 50, of a book near at hand. That way the next time you wander in there and write her a letter you will have dried pressed flowers at hand. Flowers that you can send all winter, flowers that conveniently fit in a envelope, and if someone happens to find your flowers, flowers you have secretly pressed inside a book on speeches of Abraham Lincoln, or Wiffle on Care of the Pig, well than you have made their day. Do things like this, surprise those around you. Show up at a friends house and make them French Toast, bring donuts into the office, smile at people, leave flirty messages on your gal's phone - because it's fun and it's true, and she's amazing and special. Do those things that make you happy. But I digress. I walked around Moscow, thinking, smiling, listing to Feist - Feist is amazing by the way, great reflective music, if you need to think, find the remix of Lonely Lonely, I've never listed to the original but the remix is just what you need. Again I'm all over the place tonight.

My room is a mess, I'm running out of clothes, I still need to unpack from camp.


It's good to be back.


A note on pictures - it will probably be October before I have enough to get what I want, and I'll probably wait till after school to buy it - I already have delightful distractions, I don't need any more.


Talk at you soon - NJ