So, I haven't updated this blog in well over a year; most of the friends I once had on this group seem to have drifted off in the time since, which is perfectly understandable. But, this was always the place I could go to explain how I feel about this. So, on the off chance anyone actualy sees this, I felt that I should update.
I just received a letter today saying that I was not accepted into the PhD program which I was banking on. I took it well; or, at the very least, as well as any human is capable of, I suppose. i didn't fume, or storm around; in fact, I kept a pretty optimistic face about the entire situation. It just meant, I explained to everyone, that I was going to have to switch to plan 'B' and start applying for jobs in university administration. No worries.
Needless to say; I was actually a good deal more upset than i let on. But, i have friends who were unemployed, and who are struggling, and I wasn't going to act like the world was falling down, around them. In fact my best friend, Shibbs, seemed more offended and horrified by my eing denied than I was. Despite all of my irritation at him at times, he's a good friend.
The worst part about the situation, however, is that its my own fauly. When I first came to Grad School, I did so, mainly , simply because I'd wanted to be back in school. I'd done my two years teaching in Alaska, at that time wounded me far more than i ever let on to anyone. College was a safe place, it was secure, and it was a place where I knew i was happy. And so, upoin getting back, i reveled in it; I made new friends, i tried things (like actually partying) that I'd been too reserved to do that first time around. It was wonderful.
But time drug on, and soon I found that my two year Masters degree was taking four years. Looking back, I'm not sure how i could have sped it up; my research entailed a lot of travel that I wasn't able to do often; and my first advisor retiring threw a wrench in my plains. And, even more so; I was having a lot of fun, enjoying myself, and feeling like I'd finally broken through my old social akwardness and reserve.
But I'm afriad that the length it took me has damned my chances of moving on now, and I'm not sure how to take it. I certianly don't mind moving on with a new job; I love the unviersity system and want to be part of it. But I always saw myself as a Professor at least; I'm someone who doesn't usual search out money, but does value prestige.
I think everything will work out in the end; but, truthfully, I'm worried, and don't feel as if I can express it to others at the moment.

So there you go; I've finally updated this thing. I doubt anyone will really see it; it seems as if so many people i've known in my past (both on-line and in real life0 have drifted off; and I blame myself for not keeping as close of contact as I'd have liked, to boot.
Wow; this is a few years of angst coming out at the moment!

I have an embarrassing story to relate. One which I'm not particularly proud of, but one which, now that I look back on it, provided a certain amount of humor value at the very least.

So, a few weeks ago I ran into a girl who I hadn't seen in a year. I should also state from the beginning that I had a huge crush on her from the first time I met her. Unfortuantely, she had a boyfriend at the time and, right around the time they broke up, she began student teaching and I lost track of her for an entire year.
St. Patrick's Day came and, out of the blue, I ran into her at the bar. We made plans to get together a bit later and come, two monday's ago, we did just that. Now, I should say from the beginning, that I didn't expect much to come from it; I had a policy against chasing crushes, because in my experience it never seems to work out. I planned on hanging out with her, and admitting the crush. However, I didn't expect her to feel the same way in the least; likely she'd say that I wasn't her type. I expected this would hurt a bit, but, once it was all out in the open, it would pass quickly, and things would be fine.
This is not the way it happened. We got together at a local restraunt for a few drinks and, I quickly noticed that she was flirting with me pretty hardcore (when a girl calls you sexy, its pretty easy to notice!) We ended up having a great evening, talked about actually getting into a relationship, and the night ended with me walking her to her car and getting a good 10 minutes of kissing out of the deal.
As I said, I'd had a crush on her for about two years. To have things suddenly seeming to work out ... I was floating on cloud 9 for the rest of the week.

So, everything sounds like it worked out just fine, right? Right? Ha! No chance.

A week later we got together again, only things had changed. She admitted to being embarrassed about the entire situation, said she normally doesn't act like that, wasn't looking for a relationship, and that she hadn't ever done the moving from friendship to dating thing before (this caught me a bit surpised. Although we knew each other from classes, we hadn't ever hung out outside of school.)
This was all rather confusing. First of all, a week earlier the girl had all but thrown herself at me, and not seemed reserved. Secondly, it seemed as if the signals were mixed; basically saying she needed time to get used to the idea of moving from friendship to dating, and then saying she hadn't been looking for a relationship.
Honestly, I think this is one of the, unintentionally, meanest things that have happened to me in a long time.

I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't handel it well. Although I held my composure during the 'date', I returned home, was invited over by a friend for some beer and proceeded to suffer a complete emotional reversion. The entire experience reminded me of something which would have happened to me back in High School. Possibly with this in mind, I ended up flashing back ten years and basicly reverted to the way I used to act at that unfortunate time of my life.
In other words ... I went full blown Emo (not that that term was used much when I was in High School, but it should give the general gist). The only thing that was missing is that I, at no point, ran back to my apartment to write really bad poetry, nor did I run on-line and piss and moan about my life all night. The later, I admit, resulted from my foresight in not turning my computer on after stubling back to my apartment.
It was utterly embarrassing. I haven't acted like that in over ten years.

On the bright side, the more I thought about it the next day or two, I came to realize it stemmed from a growing concern about my age as well as a lot of the responsibilities being thrown at me in Grad School, as well as my parents pushing me to graduate as soon as possible. The stress of it all, combined with the entire crush thing just finally pushed me over the edge.
Now that I realize what happened, I can, at the least, make some changes to my life style to fix it.

Since I usually love starting this things out with a video; here's a new song by Hank III which, is pretty appropriate to the entire blog




Seeing as how its, once again, been a few months since i last updated this blog, i feel honor bound to do so now (how much things have changed since I lived in Alaska and was posting once or so a week!)

I should begin by saying that things have certainly been strange around here as of late. Anyone who used to follow my blog with any regularity back in the day might well recall that I one of my biggest concerns was always the fact that I was growing old (or so I figured. Because, as you know, the mid-20s are horribly aged) and I was feeling rather repressed by this fact, and my fear that I had missed out on so much of my youth due, in part, to my own reserved nature and also because of my teaching job in Alaska.
Upon moving to Fargo to go back to school, I suddenly saw my oppertunity to change all of this; helped in large part by several friends of mine who were a few years younger than myself (sadly, my Grad department in Fargo is largely heavily introverted. Although I've made some good friends in it, I've found myself hanging out with undergrads largely as a neccesity.) What came out of this was a year of, in my own mind, trying to get all of those experiences which I was convinced that I had missed out on previously.
What does this mean? Basically, at the later age of 26 and 27 I managed to become the party guy that I had always wanted to be from 19-25. In other words; I spent a year drinking myself into oblivion and socializing far more than I ever had previously. To put it somewhat more metaphorically, I didn't just come out of my shell; I shattered the shell and then spent months obliterating the remnants of said shell with a sledge hammer. Many a good time was had by all.

Or so it seemed!

Not wanting to make myself sound better than I am, I will not say that I came to a "road to Damascus" type moment where I realized the folly of ways. In fact, it was a rather slow process, and I'm not sure I'm even done with it yet. All I know for a fact is that, beginning around late March and early April the life style which I had adopted began to feel hollow. Not only was I 'making myself stupid' (one of my favorite euphenisms I adopted for gettign too drunk) on, at least, a every-other-day basis, I also began to become concerned that I was acting like a young idiot. I turned 27 in March, which was a bit of a shock when I realized that that was the age my Dad was when he married my Mother, and I came to realize that the big 3-0 was looming up ahead of me and there was nothing I could do to stop its aweful impact. Furthermore, I would be amiss to not point out that heavy drinking runs on both sides of my family, and it has occasionally developed into alchohalism in certain members. Finally, the death of two of my uncles within a month of one another (one from cancer, the other from a heart attack brought on by his heavy drinking lifestyle) had a noticable impact on me as I, for the perhaps the first time in my life, realized that I may not, in fact, be immortal! (I still question this conclusion, and hold out hope that I may, in fact, still BE immortal; but all of the evidence I've gained so far makes it seem unlikely. Damn mortality!)
What followed was several halting steps towards getting myself back on the right track. Now that I had experienced the harder lifestyle I had always dreamed off, flaws in it quickly came to light

1) It can be rather soul deadening
2) As someone who, likely, suffers from ADD (I've never been tested, but almost everyone I know, save my Mother, seem assured that I have it) large amounts of beer and other substances were making it ever harder to concentrate on my school work. I should point out that, despite my apparent inability to focus, I still have managed to pull better grades than I ever did as an Undergrad or, for that matter, at any other time in my life. For some reason, however, this accomplishments seemed to matter less to me than they shoud have
3) It is terribly expensive. Oddly enough, when you spend most of your money on beer, you have very little to spend on other needed things, such as bills and food (I did, on the other hand, always seem to have enough to spend on RECORDS. I've put together a rather amazing vinyl collection over thel ast year that I am terribly proud of. Yes, I am a music geek!
3) My once flaunted ambition began to fall away slowly but surely.

I feel as though I need to point out now, lest this sounds worse than it really was, that I never crossed the line into alchohalism to the best of my knowledge. I was, at several points, able to go weeks without anything (usually when I went home to do research for my thesis) without any cravings or such things. For that I count myself monumentally lucky; and I thank god that I, apparently, did not inherit those genes which could have sent me spiraling over the edge. I really am a rather lucky person in many ways.

To make a long story short, I was forced to reevaluate many of my ways as a result of certain incidents, including a minor finanacial collapse. What really shocks me about said collapse, I should point out, is not that it happened; I'm rather free with money at the best of times, am overly willing to lend said money to friends when they hit rough patches, and am a rather social person to boot. What is really shocking is that it didn't happen sooner; somehow I was able to stagger along for an entire year before the inevitable happened. See previous comment about my inherent luckiness.

So, what caused this all in the first place? Well, the blame has to rest soley on myself, of course; a momentary lack of self-reflection blinded me to what was going on (an oddity in itself, as I've historically been a very self reflective person. It just goes to show that anyone can trip up from time to time). Blame aside, I think one of the biggest causes was, of course, Alaska. My two years there had beaten down my self esteem and made me question my own optimistic world view that anythign can be accomplished with the right amount of effort.
Furthermore, and this should come as no suprise to anyone who used to read this blog, I think I was much more deeply wounded by my experiences there than I had wanted to let myself believe. Recieving death threats, having an attempt on ones life, and feeling socially ostricized for two years is a lot for anyone to handle; and it becomes only worse when you are met with a complete inability for others to understand your experiences upon returning.
This was coupled with my own deep seated rebellious nature. In my mind, I had been forced to act far more maturely in Alaska than I had been prepared to at the age of 23-5; furthermore I also was angry that I had been forced to miss out on what I saw as the experiences of actually being that age. To make matters worse, the complete lack of anyone my own age there had thrown off my own understanding of how I was supposed to act. (Luckily for me, I had some very good friends from college, and on here, who helped me through the worst of it. But, sadly, internet communication is no substitution for face-to-face social contact).
This led me, upon returning, to seek shelter in the last period of my life when I felt truly comfortable and happy with myself; that blissful time from 2003-4 when I had lived in Ireland and then returned to Marquette for my final year in school. However, even then there was a problem; I've always had a strong sense that "you can't go back". I knew on some level that I wouldn't be able to recreate my life at the time (not that I didn't try) and so I decided to one-up myself; in effect experiencing all of the glory of being a young 20-something while, at the same time, out doing past selse. I believe that I felt that by having all of these "new experiences" that I'd feel content and could still imagine myself as the same adventerous kid I once had been.
And, in all hoensty, for a while it worked. To this day, I wouldn't take the last year back at all; I learnt a good deal about myself, my own short comings, and can finally check off the "Partying lifestyle" on the "things I've always wanted to experience" check list.
But, it got to be a bit much, and I'm coming to see that the time has finally come to grow up a bit. I want to finish my Master's degree during this next year which means I'm going to have to apply myself like I haven't in a while. In the next 9 months I need to A) finish my comps B) write my thesis and C) learn German. No easy task, and none of them will be possible if I contineu in the same vein as I have for the past year or so.

I should finish this journal shortly, as I doubt anyone wants to read all of this However, I need to point out that, luckily (there is that word again!) everything seems to be falling together for me once again. Over the past few weeks I seem to have tapped into that amazing energy which I possessed in college; that elusive trait which, looking back, is what I missed most of all after Alaska anyway. I've been having an odd series of dreams which, from what I can gather by doing some research into Jung, point in the same direction as well.
This past year has taught me that I am a very social person, and for that reason alone it was good. But now the time has come to reapply myself to my school work and, just as importantly, get back to the gym (apparently heavy drinking also causes one to gain weight; especially when that person has a slow metabolism. DOH!)
For the first time in years, I'm once again looking forward to the future with a feeling of optimism, excitement and high energy. And that makes me happy indeed! I've even had the urge recently, to take out some old short stories ideas of mine that had been gathering dust, and rewrite them. its all very exciting!

Now, does this mean that I'm going to stop going out to the bars and socializing completely? Of course not. One of my favorite quotes in an ancient Greek saying "To all things, moderating, including moderaton itself". Well, I've been doing the later half of that for a while. Now its time to relearn the FIRST part

Now we'll end with another appropriate video

Its been a few months since I last updated this blog, and I'm afraid that this next entry is going to be rather short to boot. Its a late night, I've got to get up at a decent hour tomorrow (noon ) and things are a foot in this fair town of mine; as a result, I doubt that I'll be able to manage the effort required for a major post tonight. I apologize to all of my loving readers in advance; I'm sure you will be so dissapointed!

So, anyway, it looks as if Fargo, my current home, and a place which has grown very dear to my heart (despite the utter inanity which I see while driving every day. As much as I love the North Dakotan people, and the folk of this city in particular, they could not drive a car if their lives depended upon it. I sometimes believe a mass of drunken 8 year olds could operate a car better than most of the people I see in the road every day. But, I digress.) currently looks as if it is going to flood.
And, I should add that when I say the word 'flood' I am not refering to the closing of a street or two, or several citizens having their front lawns converted into swimming pools. No, my friends, when I say 'flood', I ask you simply to conjure up images of Noah and his Ark. Yes, THAT kind of flood.
Currently, they are predicting the Red River, which flows by the city and forms the eastern boundry between North Dakota and Minnesota, to crest at around 40 feet above its banks. This is several feet higher than the great flood of 1997 which, until recently, was considered the worst flood in modern history (and second only to the flood of 1897, a hundred years prior). Now, since the major wettening of the town, twelve years before, one has to assume that many of the city fathers have learnt their lessons and put a great deal of money into pervention. I am operating on that very assumption, and have convinced myself that this might not be all that terrible.
But, then again, it very well may be.

Making matters worse, it seems as if several of the other rivers in the are have flooded, effectively cutting off any routes of escape that I may have used, should I have chosen to abandon ship. Water has already managed to flood I-94 to the East of here, which makes me a bit nervous to even attempt to flee at the moment. Besides, I still want to get down and help with the sand bagging efforts in the next day or two, and my gut feeling is that, by the time I would finish my shift there, any chance of leaving would have evaporated.
And so, to sum it all up, I am stuck a here 6 or 7 blocks from a river which is currently threatening to erupt from its banks and drown the town.
The weird part, is that I am not scared. Nervous? Yes. Fascinated? Certainly! But scared? Not really. IF anything I'm rather excited at the prospect; it would be, after all, a huge adventure; albeit a long, possibly boring, and dirty one. But an adventure is an adventure, and if I managed to get through Alaska, I feel certain I will survive this as well.
A friend and I have been stocking up on essentials, to help wait any flood out. Even in the best of situations, I feel fairly certain we will lose either water or electricity, if not both. And so, always thinking ahead, the two of us pitched in and bought two six gallon water tanks which we spent the night filling, as well as a small propane stove we will be able to use to boil water for cooking. We also plan on stocking up on beer (which, I assure you, is ONLY for hydration purposes! It will not be used in order to make our days locked in an apartment with no electricity or running water somewhat exciting!), grabbing some produce such as potatos and some fruit in the next day or two. Even better, we spent the night baking fresh bread.
Pretty much, I think we'll be prepared in case the worse case scenerio falls upon us. My goal is to have enough food and water to last a week, if need be.

This should be FUN I always DID say I wanted to live in the Dark Ages. Well, here's my chance!

The last few months have left me scratching my head and asking a very single question; "What's Going On?" Because of that, before you read this long journal entry, why not enjoy one of the most appropriate songs ever written about my current state of mind!



So, you listened to it? Good! Now keep that chorus in mind as you read this blog; you may well be asking yourself the same question before its all over



introduction

I have been meaning to write this post for months now. Every time something hectic, exciting or just plain weird happened over the past several months, I declared that I would finally have to update my blog and fill everyone one; after all, nothing odder was likely to happen. Then, naturally, something even more weird would come at me, and I'd be left in shock, and deciding to put the blog off for a few more days until that last event had sunk in, and I had some time to reflect. After all, certainly, the newest oddity would have to be the last. *rolls eyes*
The problem, of course, is that the weirdness never stopped; it hasn't stopped since I first began hanging out with my two friends in Fargo. We first met in January or February of 2008, although the friendship wasn't cemented until roughly April or so. Since that time, my life has been a roller coast of odd occurrences, and weird happenings that, if they were to be written down in novel form, would leave critics scratching their heads an muttering about the unbelievability of the story. The fact remains, however, that this is not a story, this is my life, and everything I'm about to lay out for you actually happened!

In the Beginning ...

Where to begin? At one point I would have told you that the weirdness really began in November, and there is some truth to this, as things began to accelerate from that point onwards, but there was one incident that happened back in July which really did, in my mind, kick-start the epicness of the past year. I won't go into a lot of detail because my lone journal of the summer covers the events quiet well. Suffice to say, my two friends and I took a road trip to Northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and had a possibly paranormal experience which left us badly shaken and, in the case of one of us (not me), terrified and questioning his own faith. (Oddly enough, the experience did more to confirm my own view of the way the world worked; there was a certain shock of having it rubbed directly into my face, but also an excitement of having something like that finally happen.) If you want more details, I suggest looking at my old journals, or my post on the SUpernatural group; it remember it being a good write up!
After our run-in with a possible "little person" as recognized by the Ojibway people, things fell quiet for a time. The summer ended and I began my third semester of Grad School at NDSU. Having gotten Straight As both the semester before and during the summer, I was looking forward to more of the same; especially I was taking a Mediaeval History class, as well as one on the History of Modern Europe. Also, after a summer of heavy partying and building up a social network, I was feeling confident enough that I thought trying my hand at finding a girl would be a good day.
I can't remember too much odd things which happened from August through the beginning of October. I was busy, not only with class work, but also with two History conferences that I was presenting papers at. Those papers, and the traveling that went with them, were having a negative impact upon my checkbook (as was, I admit, the beer I kept buying; I really do like my beer!), but they were well worth it; my goal was to pad my VITA in preparation for my eventual applying to a PhD program. I worked hard, partied hard, and was having a great time.

And then things began to get weird.


Weddings and Armed Stand Offs!

The last weekend of October, a good friend I had met in Ireland, got married to his old High School flame. Having been invited to the wedding, I found it impossible not to go; not only was Jack one of my best friends, but the wedding was to be in Georgetown in Washington D.C.. I can tell you, that I have never seen that much luxury in my entire life! Not only was the reception at a 200 + year old mansion, or that brunch the next day was at the groom's sister's house which happened to be ... you guessed it, another 200 + year old home, but the hotel I was staying at cost me a cool 300 bucks a night! This naturally did not do much for my finances, nor did losing my Credit and Debit cards within hours of one another (The debit card was an honest mistake, I was hurrying to get to the hotel and dropped it, the credit card on the other hand ... well, that was a bit embarrassing, and I don't want to get into the details right now. If you really want to know, ask me about it when I'm drunk; it certainly adds to my 'bad boy' image )
I returned to Fargo and spent a week recovering from the wedding, and catching up on work which had piled up in that time. I, likely, would have enjoyed myself more, had I only known what was around the corner.
It was the end of the first full week of November; in fact, it was Sunday night. I had just discovered that I needed to TA for a class at 9 o'clock the following morning, and I was attempting to deal with this news as best I could. The problem, of course, is that I am often not even awake by 9 in the morning; there are certain days in which I am not even awake by noon, as a result of my being a night owl and unable to fall asleep before four in the morning. Luckily, one of my two friends in the building had an idea; I should get some beer, drink a few, and then head to bed early. The alcohol in the beer would make me sleep and let me fall asleep at a decent time for once; and it would be cheaper, and more fun, than relying upon my favorite sleep medication - Nite-Quill.
At 11:30 at night, this was exactly what I had done; a quick trip to the liquor store and produced a 40 oz bottle which was sure to make me sleepy enough so that I could fall sleep and get a good night's rest. That was when my other friend called, obviously excited, to let me know that he'd just had to let the cops into our apartment building, and that I should come down for a cigarette, because shit was getting interesting. I needed no further prodding, I grabbed my pack of American Spirits and headed down the five flights of stairs to see what was going on.
The next image which stands out in my mind is of my friend and I walking along the building, smoking our cigs, and rounding a corner in time to see a cop walking down the sidewalk, hoisting a gun which appeared to be, to my untrained eye, an AK-47. I remember my stomach dropping, my balls shooting back up into my gut, and my eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. The Super Cop looked at us and said, "Boys, if you got anywhere else to be, I'd be there. This may take a while."
Seeing as how he was well armed, and we were not, the two of us just nodded our heads and agreed that that sounded like damn good advice, and we'd get right on that, sir! We fled across the street, trying to figure out what to do next.
And so began my night as a modern day Ulysses. For the next 8 hours, we wandered around Fargo in a maddeningly random pattern; we went to the pub for an hour to wait the stand off out, we returned to the building to see the SWAT enter, we drove over to visit a few friends of ours, we returned to the building but could still not get in, we went to a local restaurant for coffee, and then walked around town for several hours. To make matters worse, I'd received a new credit card in the mail two days earlier, but it suddenly stopped working, leaving me without anyway to buy food or seek some form of shelter.
Finally, at 7:30 the next morning, the stand off ended. The swat team broke through the door of the offending resident, threw in a flash and tackled the blinded suspect to the floor. They ended up confiscating an assault rifle, several boxes of ammo and drugs. There was much rejoicing in the building at large, especially from Friend Number 1 (he who I was drinking with that night) as the SWAT had used his girlfriend's room as their base of planning.
I would like to say that I returned to the building, world worry and in need of support, and to the arms of my ever loving and waiting Penelope. Such was not the case; not only do I not know anyone named Penelope, but I also still needed to TA two classes in roughly an hour and a half. So, instead, I road the bus to campus, begged a cup of coffee from a kindly coffeeshop lady (who I paid back several day later) and did my duty as a TA. I then ran into my professor for my first class of the day who told me he was happy to hear that I was okay, and also told me to go home and get some sleep. He didn't have to tell me twice.

Later Developments

Life refused to slow down after that incident. Several days later Barack Obama was elected president, and a grand jubilee developed in my apartment. Much beer was drank that night, many cigarettes were smoked, and a good time was had by all. The next morning was slightly less enjoyable, but thats the price you pay for celebrating in the first place.
Then, a few weeks later, another disaster struck. I was coming back from my friend's place, upstairs, when I got my finger stuck in the hinge of a heavy metal door in our stair well. I had thrown the door open and then put my hand back to brace it open so that it would not slam shut and wake people up (it was 3 in the morning). Unfortunately for me, I had not paid much attention to where my right index finger was placed, and so was utterly surprised when I heard the door shut behind me, following by a dry 'crunch' noise.
I looked over, saw the shut door, the location of the finger, and went "huuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhh". I was, at that moment, completely convinced I'd just sliced off the tip of my finger. I opened the door and was much relieved to see that the finger was still attached, although obviously wounded. Then I noticed the blood. A lot of blood.
Luckily, as it turns out, traumatic experiences always make me go cold; I'm one of the least likely people to panic in any given situation. This was no different; the accident had immediately sobered me up, and I knew I needed to get that finger under water. I quickly walked to my room, opened the door, and fled to the bathroom where I turned on the faucet and began to rinse the wound. I was lucky in another way; my friend had not yet gone over to his girlfriend's, and so I was able to call him and get help bandaging the finger up as best we could (Excerpt: Me: AHHHHH! Friend: "Is that bandage too tight?" Me: *wincing* NO! Tighter!")
My finger has since healed and, although it looks as ugly as sin, I've regained movement in it and it does not hurt much in the least. Also, much to my surprise, I have yet to loose the finger nail, making me believe it may stick around after all. On the brighter side, there is a good chance I'll get a groovy scar from the wound; everyone, I believe, needs a good war wound from their wild and crazy days. Now I've got mine, and it could have been a lot worse.

So, was that the end? Of course not! Several days afterwards, my car gave up the ghost and died. Since repairs would have cost the same as what I paid for the car, I bid the poor thing a fond ado, much to my sadness. I loved that car.

Homo Jocko by Devo

A completely random video that has NOTHING to do with my bellow post, except that I've recently been getting into Devo and some 80s New Wave and underground music. Its all fun



Tonight is a Marquette night, the type I used to experience all too frequently back in my college days. Its after 1 o'clock and I'm terribly restless; a heavy summer air is hanging over the city of Fargo, my friends are all out doing their own thing (One is spending the night with his special lady friend, and another is hanging out with some Hippi friends of ours.) and so I've been left to my own devises for the night.
Ah, does this bring back memories. I remember when this used to plague me a few years back, and the easiest solution was to jump into the car and take an hour long drive out into the country. I'd simply throw some tunes onto the radio, roll the windows down, and let the night air purify me as I drove. If I was lucky, I'd give one of my friends a call and see if they wanted to come along; we were all insomniacs back in those days (Oddly enough, I, apparently, still am. I'd been having the worst trouble sleeping since summer started; a fact which I blame largely on the heat, and my apartment building's faulty air conditioning).
Sadly, with the price of gas being what it is these days, I doubt that my old medication simply isn't all that feasible anymore. I might be able to trick myself into a late night trip to Wal-Mart for groceries yet, but thats assuming that my restless nature is able to overcome my dislike of that company (they pissed me off a few weeks ago when I went to buy a CD and remembered, too late, that they only sell edited versions of music. WalMart: We have no problem with child labor, or not paying our employees a living wage. But Potty Language? Thats where we draw the line! )

The Summer has been a good one so far. I've managed to make two good friends in my building over the past few months. Both are a few years younger than me, a fact which I originally felt awkward about but have since gotten over, and live upstairs from my room. We've spent most of the past few months watching movies, being addicted to the Venture Brothers, and going out to parties. I seriously have not partied this much since I lived in Ireland and I've been enjoying every minute of it.
Best about all of this, is that I've come into contact again with people my own age (Well, we're all in our 20s, that ain't bad, right!? ) and have come to realize that my social skills hadn't atrophied all that much during my two years in Alaska. People generally seem to like me where ever I go, and I might even becoming, dare I say it, somewhat popular (eeeeeeeeek!) The funny thing is, is that even back during my under grad years, I was never a huge party goer; most of the time I'd just get together with a small group of friends, play cards, and drink. Being around a larger group of people is actually fun and interesting.
Personally, I'm just trying to get some pent up wildness out. Next semester is going to be rough on me; I'm presented three papers at two different conferences, having to retake the dreaded Methodology class, am TAing for the new Professor in the department, and also am trying to find ways to get to two of my best friends' weddings which are a month apart, one being in October in DC and the second taking place in Detroit sometime in November.
In other words, I'm going to be running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the next few months, and may have very little time to get out, so I might as well get it out of my system while I can (this is the argument I give me Mother, who seems to believe I should have settled down a long time ago. My Father, more understanding of the matter, has given me his blessing ). I hope it'll work, although a night like tonight makes me wonder; I go a night without anything to do, and I'm practically bouncing off the walls.

One final bit of news: I got tickets to go to "The Dark Knight" tomorrow at Midnight. WOOOOOO; I'm super excited, this movie is going to kick ass.

I had an interesting experience this past weekend. I had returned home after the end of the semester for a few days, a quick deep breath before summer school started for me. A few weeks earlier, I'd found out that an old friend of mine who I hadn't seen since my last semester of college had finished Grad School and moved into a town in Northern Wisconsin. Naturally, being in the area, I made plans to meet her there and hang out with her.
The usual thing happened. Here was something who I hadn't seen she had been a Junior in college, in that time she'd spent time living in England, and had then returned to grad school. In that same amount of time, I'd had my disaster in Madison, and then moved up to Alaska to teach in a native village. And yet, despite these great life experiences, within five minutes it seemed as if we'd last seen each other a week or two earlier. She was back to insulting me as she always used to (It had taken me a while in college, but I'd eventually come to realize that the way this girl showed affect was to try to rake you over the coals. "You look stupid with those sideburns" was her way of saying "I missed you!") and I tried my damnedest to hit on her and get in her pants. As should be expected, we both had a great time.
That was certainly 'a' interesting experience, but not the ones which I wanted to share with you tonight. No, instead I wanted to mention something which has gotten plenty of press in my blog over the past few years, but something that I can't let go of.

The North Woods. (or, as I like to call it, Der Nordenwalden. Its just sounds so much cooler that way).

Looks at those pictures I posted above and you might, just possibly, get a small inkling of what I feel when I think about that region. Or, then of course, you very well may not. It matters not to me.
You see, for the past few years I've noticed that I've been incredibly homesick for the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and the Northwoods in general. These feelings struck me the hardest when I was living in the great treeless expanses of Western Alaska, and my first few months here in Fargo. I had long assumed that this was just my longing for my college days when I had a great circle of friends and still felt that the future was a glorious prize just waiting to be picked.

I'm not so sure about that anymore.

In the past few months I've made several good friends here in town, am feeling pretty good about my future prospects, and generally enjoying life again for the first time in years. Things are going well for me, and I really have no reason to be longing for the past any longer. Besides, as I continually tell myself, all of my old friends have been scattered by the winds of adulthood and now live all across the country; there would be few, if any, people left in Marquette who would know me any longer.
And yet, when I drove up to see my friend, I had the chance to pass through the Northwoods for the first time in about two years; as I did so, all of my old feelings came rushing back to me in a flood. It was so pervasive that it even began to affect the music I was listening to while driving; I wasn't able to find anything that suited me mood on those two days until I put a Country CD in on a whim. Country had always been the type of thing I listened to while driving through the region and, sure enough, it clicked with me.
My point is this: things are going well for me in Fargo, and there is no social network drawing me back to that region. So, why does it continue to grip my imagination so tightly? I honestly don't know, although I suspect it has something to do with the land itself. Somehow or another, I've managed to fall in love with that land, and it pains me to be away from it for too long. I miss the trees, the wet soil, the constant and melodic lapping of Lake Superior upon the shore. Even if there were no people up there at all, I think that I would still cherish it.

Interesting, no?


On a completely unrelated note:

I've been having continual dreams about Alaska lately. The specifics change each time, but the general gist of each dream is pretty much the same. I return to my old village of K------k on a completely whim. While there I inspect the village and run into many of my old students (sometimes the village has changed so much that I can't even recognize it, other times its exactly the same). Usually I begin to notice the sun setting, which causes me to panic because I suddenly realize that I have no place to stay in town. I also become very embarrassed at the thought of any of my former co-workers seeing me in town; so much so that I can't allow myself to ask to stay with one of them (they, naturally, have no idea I'm there, because this is a surprise visit).
Sometimes someone gives me money to a plane ride back and, other times, I wake up in the middle of worrying about what to do.
Not really sure what these all mean, but its rather annoying.

Before I start, my friend Shan introduced me to the band "The Gossip" last week. My GOD can that woman sing!



"I've got a FEVER, and the only cure is MORE COWBELL!"

Anyway ...


I thought it was about time for me to update this blog again, as a lot has happened in the past month; most of it surprisingly good at all! (God, how long as it been since I could openly admit that I've had a great month? Far too long).

My life, as of late, has continued to circle around Grad School, which shouldn't really come as much of a surprise to anyone. This is my career, after all, and if it wasn't taking up most of my time, I'd be terribly worried that I wasn't giving it enough attention, or else that *gasp* I'd chosen to do something that was easy! Well, I assure you, my constant readers, that that will never happen! I seem about as addicted to doing thats the hard way as I always have, thank god.
Case in point: I just handed in one of the two major papers I'm working on this semester. The project called for me to pick a topic which related to the United States from Reconstruction through 1917. Now, the easy thing to do for me would have been to try to do some topic relating to my hero (who I know far too much about) Bob LaFollette, a three time governor and four term Senator from Wisconsin. Instead, I chose to write it on a topic that, although somewhat related to my field of study; namely the Nonpartisan League of North Dakota, a Farmer's Union/Political Party with distinct Socialistic leanings that took control of the state for roughly 6 years.
Once that was taken care of, I decided to make things even tougher for myself. The easy thing to do would have been to use a few books on the NPL and include one or two primary sources to spice it up a little bit. That, of course, would have been too simple. One day, when I'm a professor doing research, I'll be using primarily primary sources for my research. I decided to get some practice in doing just that; I collected well over 20 news articles, letters and speeches from the local archives and used them as the bis is of my paper, with a few texts thrown in to build my framework.
Why did I do it? I honestly don't know. Part of my believes it has to do with trying to impress for Professor. I'd hit a rough spot during my first semester which is resulting in my having to retake a class in Fall; and I think part of this experiment on my part was to prove to my Professor, and advisor for that matter, that he didn't misplace his faith in me (the man pulled some strings so I'd be able to stay in school this semester, after that class).
A larger part, I feel, however was that I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. I've been growing more comfortable in Grad School, and have been enjoying all of my classes. However, there were still some doubts huddled in the back of my skull. During my Undergrad career I'd attempted a paper much like this one, using primary sources as my main thrust, and it hadn't done as well as I'd wanted it to. Part of this was because the class was in the summer, I had just started dating a truly kick ass girl (truly, she was; I still hold a bit of a flame for her, years later) and my heart wasn't really into doing class work. What ever the case, I decided to use this paper to prove to myself that I really could do this type of work, belonged in Grad School, and that academia is the proper career path for me.
So, what was the result? Well, I honestly think its one of the best things I've ever written. A little dry from time to time (I also tried to improve my writing style which, often times, seems to become the academic equivalent of an H.P. Lovecraft story; in other words, my prose is often is more purple than a Princep's Toga), but informative and well structured. I sent a copy to my Father to edit, as I've been doing since High School, and he agreed that it was one of my better works and, as he said, "shows a definite maturation" in my writing style. My Dad's always been a stickler about writing, and has never been afraid to tell me when my papers are crap, so I think that praise was genuine.
So, yes, I'm happy

Watch. I'll get a 'C'

In other academic news, I've been invited to read one of my other papers from this semester (which I have yet to write!) at a History/Literature conference in Bismarck next October! Even better, since the conference is Literary as well as Historical, I sent in a proposal to read part of my epic poem there as well, and was accepted. My hope is that some academic there will take a liking to it and try to put me in contact with an agent, and I can finally get the damn thing published.

So, yes, things are going very well for me. I've got a summer job lined up, doing interviews with German-Russians in western North Dakota (here's hoping they ply me up with some Red Eye out there! I here tell that that is the national drink of the German-Russian volk), I've finally started to make some friends in this town; I've even managed to take this 19 year old kid under my wing. My mentoring someone always seems to be a sign that life is going well for me; I seem to pick up 'pupils' every now and then (Actually, in this case, it seems to be more of a fair trade. _I'll_ show him the ways of life and HE will introduce me to women. I haven't had too much luck meeting any since moving to Fargo )
Now, since things are going so well, the only thing I'm missing is a few women in my life. However, since everything else has improved as late, I figure that should work itself out as well. Everything else seems to be !

To end with a video as well:

I just picked up Porter Wagoner's last CD. As a Country fan, I'm rather embarrassed to admit that I hadn't listened to much of his music before. So, in the honor of a great man who died just as his career was beginning to revive (thanks in large part to Jack White; who I am constantly coming to respect more and more), I thought I'd end with one of his videos.



Its a bit of a downer and doesn't fit my mood at this point but, My.GOD!

Happy Birthday too ME!!!!!!!!

Yes, on March 20th at 12:20 am I reached the amamzingly ancient age of 26! There were seriously times in which I wasn't sure if I'd make it this long (during a certain incident in Alaska, I won't repeat for the 10th time, for instance!). But make it, I have and, you know what? It feels pretty damn good.
Oh sure, I've got a few hang ups over it. The fact that I'm now closer to 30 than to 20 is a bit of a shock. So too is the fact that my Dad was married at this age; a bitter realization, considering I haven't been in a relationship for the past 3 and a half years now.
But, by and large? I'm doing good. I was thinking recently, trying to compare myself to where I was at this point last year, and the changes have mostly been for the positive. Back in 2007, in mid-March, I was still stuck in Alaska; the year was coming to an end, but I hadn't yet received an acceptance letter to Grad School. In fact, two of the three schools I'd applied to had turned me down, leaving me in a near panic as I looked forward to yet another year teaching. It seemed as if my entire future was nearing a collapse; as if I'd be stuck teaching for the rest of my life, unless I could find some ingenuis way to sneak out from my bonds.
But I DID get out. I was accepted to school, here in Fargo and, despite some upsets here and there, its been a good move on my part. I'm enjoying school, most of my professors seem to like me (although I suspect they still find me a bit cocky from time to time; a fair assessment). Being still new to town, I haven't managed to gather together the social life I wanted, yet, but I feel confident that it will come in time.

Those of you who have been reading this blog over the past year or so will have noticed a common refrain. Namely, that I missed who I had been, back when I was in college the first time. I was confident, an avowed optimist who was utterly convinced that things would always get better, as long as I put some work into it and strove to improve my lot. Oh, I was cocky as all hell, much of the time, and I had my ideocyncrencies; I enjoyed playing up my country-boy persona for instance (my thought being, at the time, that most college students go to college and do their best to act more cultured than they had before; I wanted to do the opposite. I had terrible luck with women (some things don't seem to change ). But, by and large, I was happy, focused on the future, and enjoying myself.

I don't know exactly how I did it, but I gave myself a great gift this past week; I managed to recapture a small fraction of that old attitude. Oh, not all of it; but if you reread the beginning of this jounral, you'll notice that a certain confidence, which has been heretofore lacking, seems to have found its way back into my writing. What did I even say, two paragraphs ago; I don't have the social life I want, but I'm confident its coming.
Christ, that feels good to say again, after months of being terrified that I was stuck as I was!

Speaking of gifts to myself, I did something else this past week which I think might be related in a roundabout way. You see, on my Birthday four years ago, my car got broken into. I'd come back from hanging out at a friend's place after a small party, drove back to my apartment, and collapsed into bed (it was late, and I had to work the next morning.)
I got up the next morning and drove to Wal-mart where I was working at the time. As I reached back for my smock, I noticed it was covered in small beads of glass. "Hmmmmm", I thought to myself, "this doesn't seem right." (I make no apologize for the slow state of my mind; it was morning, after all, and I was still tired).
I stood there for a few seconds before I looked up and saw one of my backwindows was shattered. "Well", I thought groggily, "that explains why there was that draft in here while driving this morning".
I began to look around for my CD case and couldn't find it. "Shit", I snapped. The full weight of what had happened began to settle in on me. "SHIT", I screamed, punching my seat in the process, "Shit, shit, shit, shit SHIT!"
I stormed into work, found a manager, and told them I needed to call the police. I edned up spending my lunch break filling a report at the station. It turned out to not be one of my better birthdays.

Now, despite my general optimism, I've got a sarcastic streak a mile wide. I'd remembered to take one of my CD cases in the night before, but had left the one in my car which contained my classic country collection (my pride and joy, truth be told. I'd spent a long time working on that collection, scrapping what money I had together to get it.). I don't know much about music theives; I can't put my self in the place of someone who's so sick in the head that he'd keif someone's collection like that. But, from what I gather of the sort, they are not the type that would want to listen to classic country; hard rock, sure. Rap? Definately. Metal? I suppose. But Classic Country? I would find that shocking.
So, this guy breaks into my car and manages to make off with the music that he'd be least likely to want. Even funnier, my copy of Offspring's Americana had been there as well, in its case. Now that, I figure, would be a CD the theif might enjoy. Except, the jackoff managed to drop that one into a snowbank as he made his escape! Some assholes just don't have any luck, I suppose. I wish I could feel bad for him.

Over the years since then, I'd managed to regain most of my collection, or at least get some CDs that replaced the music (even if they weren't the exact same album). There were a few, however, that I never managed to get my hands on. Either I'd simply forgotten that I had had that disk, I still thought I owned it somwhere, or my taste in music had changed. The later was the biggest factor; although I never ceased to be a Country fan, it got supplanted as I moved into other interests.
Well, a few days before my Birthday this year, I got the hankering to track down two or three of those old CDs. It took some digging aroudn town, and on iTunes, but I managed to get my hands on some of them. Most meaninful was "Timeless: a Tribute to Hank Williams" and "Dressed in Black", a tribute to Johnny Cash. I'd bought both CDs years before because of the presense of Hank III on them, and they had spent a lot of time spinning in my CD player.

Now, I don't know what it was, but having those old CDs really did me a lot of good. Its almost as if, having that old music back in my hands and hearing it for the first time in years, gave me some tangable link to my older self that had been sorely missing. IWhile listening to it, I felt the old smile crawl back onto my face, and I began to belt out these lyrics that I hadn't sung in so long.
Its funny, really. Most of the music I'm describing here, is happy in the least. Hank Sr could belt out a good party tune if he felt like it, but the best of his music has always been the tear jerkers. But, its always been this way with me; the sad music is always the stuff that makes me smile and makes me sing along. I've sometimes thought that its like a catharsis of sorts; if I'm feeling bad, being able to sing songs about others who've had it worse, flushes the negativity out of me and lets me move past it.
It was true back then and, apparently, its just as true now.

So, to make a long story short, I'm feeling a helluva lot better than I was even a week ago. I'm 26 years old now, and its going to be a good year! I'm in Grad School, I'm loving what I'm doing. Even more than that, though; I've finally remembered an old fact of late, which seems to have escaped me over the past three years. Namely: I _RULE_!!

I'm not in the least bit arrogant, of course

Anyway, this journal is getting long, so let me sign off with a funny YOutube video that, not only is the most inspiration (non-Irish) song I know, but also meshed with a video that gives a beloved Children's movie a whole new meaning



... is it bad that I always liked Scar, as a kid

Okay, time for episode 10 of the Tree-Splitter, for those who still care Just for fun, I've also included a few snippets of the original poetry from my epic. Look for it and tell me what you think (Hint: Its at the end )


The Tree-Splitter Episode 10
A Journey Ends, another Looms

I need to apologize for not writing this past weekend, as I'd originally intended. I'd gone home for Spring break, had a wonderful time, and then promptly fell sick when the time had come for my return journey. Actually, saying that I "fell sick" doesn't really express the true horror which visited me for several days this past week. A better way to put it would be: "The mother of all Colds grabbed me by the balls and refused to let go".
Meine GOTT was I sick. I can't remember the last time that a Cold (or, possibly, it was the flu) managed to hit me that hard. I'd managed to get some pretty bad cases when I'd been teaching in Alaska; any teacher reading this won't be in the least bit suprised. Schools have a tendency of becoming germ factories in Winter, after all. But even the worst one couldn't even hold a candle to the raging infero which was the "Cold That Wouldn't DIE" (tm)
I'm going to show an heretofore unknown level of class and not share with you all of the details of my illness, lately. You don't want to hear them; they are, as I'm sure you suspect, messy. What I did want to share, however, was some thoughts that I'd had while ill.
Unable to do much of anything during the past several days, save going to class (I'd like to point out that I didn't miss a single day of class this week! Ha! Other people can skip class when they get sick; but not me!), I was left with plenty of time to think. Much of this time was spent, especially in the beginning, wishing that my Mom was there to take care of me, and wondering if there was anyway I'd be able to lure her up to Fargo to do so.
After a while, however, I realized that this was just wishful thinking. Furthermore, it was embarrassing; I'm a young man, after all, and I don't need my Mother to wait on me, just because I'm sick. Oh, it would have been NICE, no one is refuting that, but I could manage on my own quiet well, thank you very much. So, instead, I turned my mind towards matters of philosophy and life, and several things hit me all at once; and, no, none of them seem to have been brought on by the fever!
Perhaps the most startling was the realization that the Cold might well have been a good thing! You see, I fell off the "stop smoking" bandwagon after my cat died a few weeks ago, and had been desperately trying to quit again with limited success. I'd managed to whittle my way down to one or two cigarettes a day, and then stopped all together when I got home. However, I wasn't sure if I'd be able ot keep it up once I got back to town. The Cold fixed that problem for me. There was several days there where I didn't even want to inhale AIR, let alone smoke. The thought of lighting up made me sick(er) to my stomach. As a result, I'f now gone 8 days without a cigarette. Yay me!
I also realized that this cold was making the time change a lot easier on me than it usually is. Normally it takes me well over a week to get back intune with the clock after day-light savings time comes into effect. However, I was so drained of energy, and so miserable while awake anyway, that I found myself retreating to bed fairly early each day. I'm now much more used to DST than I otherwise would have been, if I'd been perfectly fit all week.
Most importantly, however, was some philosophical ramblings I had during this time. I'd spent Monday and Tuesday trying to put up a brave front to the rest of the world, in a sad effort to maintain my dignity in the face of this onslaught. By Wednesday I'd realized just how horrid my attempts had been (Note to guys: Do not, under any circumstances, try to hit on girls when you're running a high fever and your nose has turned into Niagra Falls. It does NOT go well!). The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was impossible to have any sort of dignity while ill. It just can't happen.
Even more so; everyone goes through this at some time in their life. The Prince and the Pauper both are likely to turn into shambling, oozing, sickmen for a few days each year. You take the most austere, dignified man alive, and a cold will reduce them to that annoying snotty nosed kid in about 10 seconds flat.
So, if you can't be dignified, what can you do? Well, I remembered the old teachings of the Hindus and Buddhists; you are Not your body. How true it is! Hell, you're body has a tendency of turning into a gross, oozing mess from time to time, during your life. In fact, when you look at it in that way, it all becomes kind of funny!
Funny. Humor! Now there is a life raft that I can hang onto during dark times! So I tried to look at it all through that lense; this cold was just another effort by that perenial practical joker, God, to have a good laugh at my expense and possibly teach me something in the process. Fine. I can deal with that; and if the supreme being of the universe is having a goof gut buster at my expense, I might as well get in on the gag and enjoy it for what its worth, right?
So, there you have it. I tried to laugh myself through this cold, and it seems to have worked. Oh, I didn't laugh literally; that hurt way too much. But I did try to keep a smile on my face and keep everything in perspective. Although, I will say this, if I ever track down the damn SOB who GAVE me that dread disease; I WILL kill them!

No real good dreams to report this week; all of them seem to have been caught up in my fever dreams instead. I did spend one entire night convinced i was witnessessing the birth of Yugoslavia (I can thank my Eastern European Professor for THAT one!). One fragment does stick out in my mind however, as being somewhat important.

The Dream:

I'm in a dark hospital room, looking down at an old man who's hooked up to life support and is clearly dying. It occures to me, that this old man is, in fact, ME! The older me looks up at the younger me and smiles; "So, what are you doing", he asks.
"Me? I plan on FIGHTING!" I say. The thought fills me with vigor, and I'm obviously excited at the thought.
The old me smiles again, this time rather whistfully. "Have fun", he says, "Just be careful. I fought too, and look what happened to me."
I look down at Old Me and smile myself, "Oh, don't worry. I will be", I say.

It should be noted that several days earlier I'd come to the conclusion that my recent little funk of the past few months stemmed from the fact that I'd given up fighting for anything. Alaska had battered me so bad, I'd gotten to be a bit gun shy of the world. Shortly after having these thoughts, it was like a huge weight have lifted off my shoulders, and I've been feeling great ever since.
Apparently my older Alaskan-induced mentality is passing away, and just wanted to give me a bit of a warning and a wish of good luck before he did so.

ANYWAY; this post is getting very long as it is, and I know what you are all REALLY waiting for! The next episode of the Tree Splitters: prose edition (all two of you who read it ) I'll put it in Spoilers below. Hope you enjoy!


The Tree Splitters: Episode 9
The Battle in the Blizzard!