What the what?

WHO WAS IT?!

I will bless you

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Friends

I figured my folks would be very curious about the new friends I made over the school year. Not wanting to be put on the spot I made a list of just a few with the impression that the have imprinted on me in the last nine months. Obviously I've only given initials, but if you know me and know them then the identity should be obvious.

K- But by the grace of God be he the most dynamic Southern Baptist Preacher of the Twenty-First Century.
T- Stud.
B- God was having a rough day proportioning size and personality. Of course a compliment.
R- My artsy conscience.
J- Six matchsticks with a head held together by environmentally conscientious clothing and indie music.
D- You are Pluto… You know Goofy’s dog.
M- Made of bricks and laughs and sweat and strength and family and his Grandfather and God.
C- Brilliance hidden under a yellow hoodie.
J- You are a bicycle. Simply and unequivocally. Useful and commonplace and laughable in a math class.
J- Peter Jackson’s beard. Just his beard.
C- The word “bonehead” shouldn’t be construed as an insult, it is a compliment of the highest order.
R- I think you are your hair, wild and free and rare, but somehow perfectly suitable.
E- I imagine you being carried away over the shoulder of a Viking. I don’t know why.
R- For some reason I see you as a cynical PI working the Florida Retirement Home beat. Its probably the chest hair.

Battered by Travel I type incoherently

It is certainly a strange thing to leave home. Almost as strange as going back. When we leave home it is a revolt into nothing, a hopeless leap into an unknown. After a time, however, the unknown becomes known and more importantly becomes home. We dive headfirst into the dark future and let our eyes get accustomed until it seems very much like the present seemed. Going home is a Re-revolt, Devolution, going from light to light. By my estimation change is often regarded as an introduction. Commencement, if you will. We shake the dust off our sandals and keep walking. It is a strange feeling to return to the old dust. After a year away from home with every week laying some new spike strip or revealing a new golden ticket, I feel quite unprepared for 3 months of quietude, of constancy, of Maryland. But then again if this feeling is strange, it is also new. Strange means little more than unfamiliar, and if my thoughts of home are that of relative unfamiliarity, then going home is new. It is unfamiliar simply because of my recent falling out with familiarity. Home is completely familiar and yet not, like an old picture or forgotten shoes. A general expectation that the shoe will still fit holds at once an insult to your growth and a compliment to your constancy. It is difficult to close out this entry. I can’t write a conclusion because I have no conclusion. I can’t close out Moscow any more than I can prepare myself for Maryland its all strange, all new, all commencement, and all unfamiliar.

Sorry

Jeez Guys... sorry for the late great blog lameness. But guess what! Schools over! So hears what's on my mind.



Absolutely Nothing !!!!!

Ty