The O in Owl is for Outstanding

Yesterday at an unknown hour in the later afternoon I received a call from the girl. She had very, very good news in the form of her acceptance into Temple University.

I'm so very proud of her. She is smart, funny, so eager to learn and even sometimes wants very much to go back to school. Arcadia gave her a bridge to Italy but didn't provide the way back to Academia. Perhaps Temple will lay that path. And if not, at least she has something she wanted very much.

The having of a want is always enough to make any journey worth traveling.

I'm proud of her.

Always Say So Little

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. (I'm confident more than one woman and one man reads this blog, so I similarly confident in my address.)

I realise I have not posted a poem for the past two weeks. Wretched of me, I know. However, I wrote today two pages of dialogue to a story I've been thinking about. Exciting! ...and still, the same three poems in my head. One is long, one is pretty terrifying to write, and the third is a rewrite.

I always have so much to write on this blog. Yet I always write so little.

And yet, something to say now.

The girl visited this past weekend. We broke up.

Now, that's rather shocking. But really, it's not. The stress, disatisfaction has been growing for quite a while. And in love there needs to be a lot of grace, wisdom, peace and patience. So I believe, and trust, that the change of our relationship is defined by all these things.

Because, I love her, first and always. And I'm in love with her, second and always.

Oh, and I do have the greatest best friend in the world. Is there a designation before "first"?

There should be.

Delay of Tuesday

I'm sick.

The girl is coming today!

I just finished my last midterm and have a homework assignment to turn in before fall break starts.

And I just finished baking a cheesecake.

I've got 3 poems in mind, but I think I've done quite enough today.

Thank you, Happy Face!

I'm Sick

*sneezes*

And my mommy isn't here to take care of me.

First time I've been this sick since beginning college and my mom isn't here.

That, my friends, is what I call balderdash!

Tuesday's Poem #5

I dedicate this poem to lovers - lost, hurting, sad, alone, together.

And hell, Damion, you were not in my heart as I was writing this but you were damn sure there when I edited it.

"What is Love?"

Love is sacrifice
what would you not give?

Love is joy
to the unadulterated desire, even

Love is perserverance
when it is not always so joyous

Love is anger
for sometimes there is fear

Love is happiness
in the midst of pounding hearts

Love is peace
for such pounding isn't constant

Love is desire
although in the dead of night it may be

Love is selfishness
for what is more selfish in life

Love is talking
than wanting conversation with one

Love is friendsip
to last all the days

Love is toil
in the midst of struggle

Love is faith
to last to the end.

Love is one kiss
That defines a lifetime

Love is hope
who needs more?
Love is hope.

A rose given to you
By one heart, one life
Pulsing fast and true

A banner, this flower
Red and brilliant
Bursting with our power

It waves this signal
See its resplendance
Answer its call!

Beaten and bloody
Oppressed by all things on all sides
- truth, defiant beauty

Stand to protect, weakness surround
To prove as warrior
Devout and bound

Stand as beside
To prove as help and mate
Bursting with pride

Beautiful
Heart, mind, body
Defiant, powerful

Weakness
Heart, mind, body
Frail, yet lioness

Yet...

...fail to define.
Know as I am yours
Love claims you as mine

"If I Were a Christian"

I love riding the buses around Chapel Hill. There is such an immersion into the people that one is hard-pressed to find anywhere else. Snippets of conversations. Sight of folks entering or ending the day - tired, happy, eager, sad, or remote. It's all rather fascinating. Especially so for me because I love to hear people talk. I love to know what people think. The dichotomy of personalities, beliefs, and opinions is so rich and I, as an observer, do love to have my cake.

Of note was my ride home this past Friday. A young man who had picked up a conservative magazine (how do I never find out about these things?) was chatting with a woman he knew from class. I was sitting beside them, so there conversation was quite clear. He expressed disbelief at some statement on the back of said magazine and she joined him with this statement: "If I were a Christian, I would be so upset that someone told me I couldn't be Christian and a liberal." No freakin' doubt my ears were pricked.

And while I would have loved to join in on the conversation, my taciturn belief that that would have been quite rude leashed such intentions. However, what she said gave me a great deal to think about.

Namely, I thought of how judgmental Christians tend to be. Especially when "their own" are concerned. I am reminded of Lizzie's retort to Miss Bingley's assertion - "You're severe upon your sex, Miss Bennet." To which Elizabeth of course responded in kind: "I must speak as I find."

Surely there are many Christians that feel this. Yet in general, should we not respond with Miss Bingley's reply? "Perhaps you haven't had the advantage of moving in society enough." All digs aside, surely there are good, nonjudgmental Christians around and ready to be found, as long as we look under the right rocks.

But this is the fearful thing. Christ said that those without sin should cast the first stone. God alone has the power to judge. Yet what overwhelms the Christian and Far Right society? Judgment. Moral highground. Dirty old men standing atop their precious mountains of righteousness shouting out, "I'm clearer than you! God loves me! He hates you!" all the while clutching some filty rag just behind his back.

We shouldn't have to root around in the underground to find Christians who defy the tide of righteous indignation and actually seek to live by their God's commands.

Actually, we should be indignant ourselves, that so much of the "wrong sort" defines the cultural expectations of what exactly a Christian is. We should be angry. I know I am.

Let's Go Tigers!

A 119 game losing season 3 years ago.

No names, except for one petulant former Texan who can't stand cameras - read Kenny Rogers.

New manager in the form of the ever-loving Tom Leland.

There you have the definition of underdogs. And gosh darn't, if we all don't love the underdogs.

Especially when they beat the Yankees.

No, no, let me rephrase that. Especially when they spank the Yankees.

Which is just what the Detroit Tigers happened to do tonight, defeating the Yankees 8-3, clinching a 3-1 series win. Go home Yankees. Go home!

But the true clincher? The true feel good story apart from a club rebounding from 119 losses 3 years ago and stabbing a dagger into the heart of the hated Yankees? An entire city bursting with pride. Players running down to the locker room to grab some champagne bottles and running back to the stadium to celebrate with their fans. Tom Leland being carried off the field by his players.

Oh, yeah, and Kenny Rogers jumping up into the stands with two bottles of champagne and spraying the fans, even splashing a little onto a cop and then hugging him - rather personable I fancy.

Great pitching always defeats great hitting. Always.

Go Tigers!!



(I think it likely that no one who reads this blogs is even cognizant about how much I know about baseball and pitching, specifically. The girl might have an idea. But really, I could start an entire blog critiquing and advising pitchers. Take for instance winning pitcher Jeremy Bonderman's horrifically low elbow. Do you notice the ulnar nerve literally popping out? When throwing a baseball your arm is put under tremendous pressure. The further you drop your arm (read: elbow) the more stress you pile on. It's simply a recipe for disaster. All that, and Bonderman has probably one of the safter arm actions out there. But do you see how much his neck is straining as he's about to release the ball? Indicative of how quickly he's throwing open his guiding shoulder, putting again even more stress on himself and taking so much power off the ball. Wow, I haven't talked this much about baseball in a while. Everyone can blame Notre Dame boy - Detroit born he is.)

Tuesday's Poem #4

"Here It Stands"

Crucifix.
Altar.
Sacrifice.

Blood.
Guilt.
Offering.

Love.
Sacrifice.
Gift.

Used and twisted
This our hope
Once glorious
Once white
Black now as sin

Sin even
Itself,
Itself!

Hope fades
As image tarnishes
Becomes blacker still

This is hope?
This is glory?

But faintly
- Yes

Look past
Man
Woman
Child
- those who hide

Look at what they hide

See hidden glory
Hidden truth
Hidden hope

Because here it stands,
By faith
Not hand
By love,
- not man

Tuesday's Poem #3

"The Light's Not There"

Twinkle, twinkle little star

Star light, star bright,
The first star I see tonight

I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have the wish I wish tonight.

How I wonder where you are!

Aching neck, he looks again
To the left and to the right
Eyes scanning horizon
From sea to sky
- never finding

Hands rest wearily
Clasping gently rising, falling
Tension coiled in shoulders
Falls the length of arms
Pooling, roaring through fingers
- out into the ocean

A head hangs
Swings right
Swings left
Stretching
Coaxing some peace
- in this nothingness

Facing again, eyes piercing darkness
No light comes
No star, no wish, no gods
The things on high
- remain so silent

No hope shattered
He knew, but he did wish
He looks again
Before making his choice
Choice already made
- 'north, it has to be north'

The dark swallows
Ship without light
Man without soul
Mind without faith
- so he sails.

Tuesday's Poem #2

"Welcome Fire"

Comes to the edge
Long, broken road behind

Everyone fled
None to mind

Scattered gear
The wages of war
- only company

Seen this vast expanse
Now this, this, this

Here the gauntlet falls
Metal will taste
- no success

Helmet joins the ravages
Sword bites the earth

Every piece
- once shielded llife
Now strewn
- before this edge

Naked, standing
Before this edge

Wall of flame
Fire fills the void

War has led
Blood
- the golden brick road

Death and peace
Hell and chaos

None the wiser
But this is end

End in thought
End in fire

End of passion
End of fire

End by self
End by the flame

No question remains
Only the hesitancy
- to jump

A hand passes through
Like the finger of a child
- through the flame of a candle

A hand becomes an arm

Arm the chest

One leg

Then another
- swallowed by fire

A swell of dust
Sole leaves this earth

War left behind
None left to mind

Tuesday's Poem #1

"Ready"

The cauldron
burns and spews
Violent eruption
No ceasing
No end

The cloud
opens and empties
Heavy fall
Immediate beginning
Sudden end

The rain
cascades and tumbles
Gentle, gentle
It may stop
It may end

Collides with cauldron
Meeting with force
Drama
The rain stops
- never ending
Rising again
Far gentler
than it's gentle, violent beginning

The cauldron empties
Not churning
No violence
Though no peace

Hot but never heavy
The cauldron lets go

The cloud waits for the return

Return to grace
Violence to peace
Never peaceful.

Don't Call It a Comeback

Good evening ladies and gentlemen.

It has been far far far too long since I updated with any regularity. 'tis shameful.

Not that I don't believe I haven't the requisite worthy excuses. Oh, no. Oh, hell no. Let's review my excuses:
1. I moved my mom and dad to Wales, singlehandedly. Well, my mom helped but the father was useless!
2. I moved myself and what's left of my family's most prized possessions to Chapel Hill, singlehandedly. That one's true, but for one Barry.
3. I attended the wedding (and the hurricane before it) of two best friends (but one, love you babe). And I danced with a rose. ...more on that later.
4. I survived "Math Boot Camp" with the two lowest grades I've ever received.

Now, I think I could easily go on giving myself these excuse thingies and give up this blog entirely since I am now trying to survive Graduate school in it's entirety. But no, I say, no! Anyway, I'm going slightly stir-crazy with the lack of writing going on in my life. (Read previous statement as : I'm not draining the ideas in my head as I'm want to do, therefore I am slowly driving myself more insane than is acceptable by my standards. And whilst I do have incredibly high standards, the current situation is getting a bit much.)

And anyhow. Regardless of my sanity, I'm not keeping my Cambridge brethren informed of the jaunts of my life, which is the primary reason I started this damn venture in the first place.

I also have various ideas for what I'd like to write, including of course the continuation of my typical manicisms. They're fun, they're me! But...I do have some thoughts regarding some specific ideas.

First, I'm toying with the idea of opening up a blog called The Counter-Culture Christian. The idea has been pressing on my heart and in my head for a few months now and I'd like to take some positive steps toward achieving some tenable goal. A blog, or something. Something, I hope.

Second, I'd like to share the steps I'm taking to find a church in Chapel Hill. I've visited two so far and will soon write up thoughts about the visits. I cannot wait until I find a church that I can call family, but, for all the eagerness, I envision difficulty and struggle. And no doubt some "settling."

Third, and perhaps most awesomely, I want to report on all the movies I've seen for free from UNC's media library. On the docket tonight while I ignore Microeconomics? Bubba Hotep!

Oh, it might also be interesting to explore where I'm going in the coming year. Whether or not I stay with economics. I must say, I have my doubts.

On that note, love to everyone.

CNN Says...

The federal government to give nearly $800 million in drought disaster assistance to farmers and ranchers, according to the Department of Agriculture.

My response?

"There's a drought going on?"

Honestly, where has my head been?

This Crazy Dream

(...yes, I realize I haven't posted for goodness knows how long. However, I will address all the delays and such in the future, fingers crossed on that not being a future too far in the, well, future.)

I'm at the Girl's place. (Or was at the time of this writing.) And last night, with no doubt a large dose coming early this morning, I had one hell of a dream. And it starts out with 4 naked asians.

Four naked Asians

I suppose it is somewhat sensical to mention that these Asians were male. It seems relevant to the story slash dream.

Anywho.

I walk into a room of four, naked, male, dancing Asians. They appear to be having a grand ole time.

I decide to join them. However, my view of the dangling, dancing, naked bits is obscured due to the rather genteel camera angle of my dream. I never knew I could censor myself so much as in this dream.

Then about 10 other fellows decide to join us.

And decide to get naked.

And dance.

I decide to join them. Yet in disrobing, I...well...I find my clothes layered.

As in, I have on about 10 shirts, 20 pairs of boxers, and 5 jeans.

Needless to say, it takes forever to strip - which astonishes me in the dream since I was quite convinced that I was still clad in my skimpyish (comparatively) shorts and a t-shirt from the previous day's activities.

However, I did eventually get naked.

And revelled in the glory of that wind 'twixt the nethers given by great cavaults of dancing.




...cheers.

From The GIrl

I'm being very sneaky. This is the girl, writing to let you all know that PS has not fallen off the face of the planet. (he does not know i'm writing this....) He is in the process of moving, and getting ready for his mom to go over to Wales, where she will be joining his father. His mom leaves on Tuesday and he will then be coming up to see me! me! me! on Thursday. oh yeah...and be part of the jon-anna wedding bash. He is very busy and excited and stressed, so till this fiasco of boxes, books (they have...millions, and i don 't think that's an overstatement--i've heard about these books--i'm pretty sure they have been breeding), furniture and moving trucks is over, please keep him in your prayers and thoughts and happy good wishes!


with lots of love from,
The Girl

Happy Birthday: 10 Days Past

Ten days ago, my dear friend Damion celebrated his 34th birthday. In honour of his day, still important 10 days past, I give to him a series of lists. The lovely man asked for a list from everyone which ennumerated their top ten favorite books.

My mind has been way too out there to focus on moving, let alone lists of any kind. But given I have finally been able to write something cogently, slightly substantive, I think I can now push myself on with this. Not a hard thing, just a sweet thing to a sweet friend.

...in no particular order...

Top 10 Favorite Albums
1. St. Matthew Passion - Bach
2. Lateralus - Tool
3. Perseverance - Hatebreed
4. War - U2
5. Boy Hits Car - Boy Hits Car
6. Joshua Tree - U2
7. Thriller - Michael Jackson
8. A Kind of Magic - Queen
9. Available for Propaganda - Linea77
10. Master of Puppets - Metallica

Top 10 Favorite TV Shows
1. Quantam Leap
2. MacGuyver
3. Stargate SG-1
4. 24
5. Smallville
6. Spongebob Squarepants
7. House, M.D.
8. Battlestar Galatica (2004)
9. Gilmore Girls
10. G.I. Joe

Top 10 Favorite Movies
1. M - Expressionist German movie from 1933
2. A Touch of Evil
3. Pride and Prejudice (1995)
4. Saving Private Ryan
5. V for Vendetta
6. Philadelphia (also for one hell of a song from the Boss)
7. The Empire Strikes Back
8. American History X
9. Gladiator
10. Dazed and Confused

Top 10 Favorite Books (Including Plays)
1. In Cold Blood
2. Pride and Prejudice
3. Of Mice and Men
4. Hamlet
5. Our Town
6. The Hobbit
7. 1984
8. To Serve Them All My Days
9. The Great Gatsby
10. Jane Eyre

Top 10 Favorite Experiences
1. Telling the girl I love her
2. Kissing the girl
3. Running back and forth atop a slightly swingning bridge on a cliff in Italy whilst holding hands with the burly man Jon to the riotous laughter of the girl and Anna
4. Graduating from University
5. Seeing my Welsh family again
6. Studying at Cambridge with Erin, Damion, Andrew, and Marshal
7. Making sushi with the girl's family
8. Anytime I've ever pitched
9. Visiting Atlanta to spend time with my Cambridge friends
10. Swimming & Writing (If I can combine the two I'll be happy as a clam)

To you Damion.

Those Amazing Aussies

As the rain cascades all around me, on this the second or third day of summer in a classic summer thunderstorm, I finally feel inspired to write. Ever since I got back from Wales I have not been able, for the life of me, to write more than a few half-hearted sentences. And if there's anything I hate doing, it's doing things half-heartedly. But now, now it comes back. And I am excited!

What has inspired me? A burning love? The girl always inspires me, this is true, but no. A recent revelation that has cleared the murky paths of my life? Nope, still coasting in that regard. The inspiration? 13 Australian men.


The World Cup is now well into the endgames. After group play, it's now "You lose, you go home." The games so far in this round of 16 have been mundane. In group play the games ranged from similarly mundane to spectacular. Yet none of the previous games quite prepared anyone for the matches that played and are still playing today.

As I write, the Swiss and Ukraine are in the 24th minute of overtime. In 6 minutes the match will be decided by penalty kicks. A game impressive if only because it is being pushed this far. As in yesterday's spectacular performance by David Beckham, the playing men are exhausted and, right now, are quite literally keeling over. This game is made by the desparation of two teams fighting for everything. And penalty kicks are always fun.

Unless you're Australian.

You see, the game that is winding down just now isn't half the game that was Australia versus Italy. Why? Italy was called to dominate. After all, the national team was only Australia. The only good football tehy're known for is Aussie rules. Yet they nearly had it. Australia almost defeated one of the favorites, the powerhouse. Admittedly, Italy has not been dominant this Cup. Much like England and Germany, Italy has yet to hit the stride they're supposed to. But for all of that, nothing can take away from the struggle and the fight of the Australians.

Here we go. Penalty kicks to decide the winner of Ukrain versus Switzerland.

This match that I am watching right now is where the Australians were a very few seconds away from getting to. And I mean seconds.

Report of penalty kicks:
Save by Switzerland.
Save by Ukraine.
Goal by Ukraine.
Miss by Switerland. Ukr 1, Sui 0
Goal by Ukraine.
Save by Ukraine.
Goal by Ukraine. Ukraine wins on penalties - 3 to 0.

So, the Ukraine will face Italy in the next round. How did Italy get there? By playing incredibly smart soccer. One incredible play with, as I said, seconds to go in regulation. Even more, for I can take nothing away from Italians - from the 53rd minute on the Italian squad played with a man down because of a red card. Incredible.

However, with all of that, the Aussies not only played just as smart as Italy but with a greater tenacity and courage. Why tenacious? Why courageous? They held off the freakin' Italians for 94 minutes, 40 seconds!!

And add to that, the Australians missed a game winning bicycle kick by about one and a half inches. Then the penalty kick the Italians won on would have only been the equalizer instead of the game-ending goal. What if, what if, what if.

But with an incredible fake out in Australia's penalty box, the Italians won a penalty kick in the 95th minute. And Francesco Totti, largely absent in the debacle with the Americans, easily punched it in. A devastating dagger through the heart of the self-proclaimed Socceroos. And, hey, another addition to the case against the overzealous referees.

The refs are ridiculous. But one thing is still absolute.

This is a beautiful, fabulous game.

...at least in terms of the World Cup, otherwise I couldn't care less.

Not Dead Yet!

Good greetings and good morning to everyone!

Forgive me for not having written anything yet. I've been home for 11 days now and so much has happened since I've been back in the states. What a joy it is to relish this hot, hot sun. Especially after surviving the west coast of Wales during its wettest, coldest May in 30 years. Only me, right? And I must reiterate how badly I was burned during that wettest, coldest, cloudiest Welsh May.

Yep. Only me.

For all of that, I am so glad to have spent 2 weeks in Wales. Reconnected with my wonderful family. And thankful that so much Welsh blood runs through my veins. As the World Cup begins and the French Cup ends, it's an amazing thing to discover some national pride. Not that I'm not proud of America. Yet, as I think any international traveler and/or sports fan, almost everyone else outside of the States has a deeper, more passionate sense of nationalism (in its most idealistic sense). And as I watch a reflection on Germany's sense of pride as a nation, the point of America's lack of national identity is driven home even further. 'tis an interesting thought, think you not?

(What a great match between Paraguay and England. Well...good.)

As for actually being home, yesterday I locked in the price for a very nice apartment in Chapel Hill. Now all I have to do is figure out what to do with all of this furniture my parents are leaving me. Ummm...it's a lot.

I really just wanted to say 'Hi' to everyone and get myself going again.

Update from Wales

Erin! (And the rest.)

I'm in Neath, currently, staying with my father and the rest of my family. The Dad is awaiting the Mum's retirement from the States.

I have, however, been in Fishguard, Western-coastal-upper, lower bit of Wales for the past week - a week of an ungodly amount of rain, cold, and cloud.

And yet I still come away with a sun/wind burn!

Only me...I sigh.

From Fishguard, my Dad and I traveled up through to Aberystwyth where my father earned his economics degree and then to Aberaeron to look at some property along the coast.

I'm sorry that it seems like I just skirted into the country without much warning! Everything was a bit sudden and hectic and, for some reason, I assumed you would be in the States by now - which is ridiculous, since Uni for my family over here doesn't even finish until about July or so.

Well, think of this. Parents are moving back to Wales and I'll likely be here for Christmas. Shan't be just a pop over to bide for the next decade or so, this.

...I can't wait to come back home and stop speaking my family's particular brand of Welsh. heh...perhaps.

Cheers everyone!

And, yeah!, I did see Eurovision. Never heard of it before and, my God, it was an eye opener. I loved that Finland one and that chick who used to be from MTV on VH1 was a cohost. Pretty lass, if skinny. I sadly had no idea it was on, so just caught only the tail end of the performances when said goodnight to my Da' and flicked around for something interesting. Really...blew my socks away. (As did seeing Spiderman in Welsh!)

Yeah...I'm in Wales

...so...

Cheers!

(Until the 30th of May)

"Welsh by the Grace of God"

So, I'm Graduated

I am now 6 days removed from Winthrop's undergraduate graduation ceremonies. Up in Pennsylvania, I have a degree in Mathematics from a small South Carolina liberal arts university. The Chapel Hill Admissions office has my full transcript yet the Economic office is woefully lagging and has yet, supposedly, to lay claim to the fullness of my transcript. Wait still I must.

Graduation was fun. It seems I managed to fanagle my way into various good graces and graduate Summa Cum Lade. I was quite pleased with that - even though there was no distinguishing between all the other honours graduates. I suppose we must learn to live with the little grievances in life.

The girl, Jon and his fiance came down to join in the celebrations. Unfortunately their car broke down just outside of Chapel Hill, fortuitous maybe?, at about 2 am. 2 hours to get them and 2 hours back. With pizza, mind, so my weary friends were rescued with car and food. The next day, 2 hours back to the car to deliver keys and then 2 hours back. The next day graduation and a lovely wine brunch at the Dean and Deluca winery. The fiance was too sick to join, and became even more sick the Sunday. Yet the lovely girl resuscitated by the next day. The plan was to leave on sunday yet with their car on the kicks we waited patiently - with many movies and much alcohol. It's the little things in life that make it worth the living.

We finally left on Tuesday - 2 hours to and 2 hours back to deliver my car to the mother and then....tadaa! 6 hours to Pennsylvania along the glorious route of 77 and 81. Much lateness but, hey, shit does happen. And we had a ton of champagne, beer, and wine to make the time all that more enjoyable.

I shall e-mail various people and send off lots of pictures and words.

I'm graduated.

Weird.

Exciting New Trailers!

As I am a movie whore, I also proudly lay claim to the title of trailer whore. No, I'm not that much of a redneck. I'm just glad to say that a good trailer can often be as artistic as the movies themselves. Sadly, of late, we've been going through a miserable time where trailers just seem haphazardly thrown together.

However, friends, I have two glorious bits of trailer to share with you.

The first is the Casino Royale Trailer. Another Bond movie? Eh, I don't know. Without Pierce Bronsan? Ok, I'm listening. With Daniel Craig? Holy hell! Yes, holy hell.

If we can go by the trailer, Casino Royale looks amazing. A true Bond film, I think. I always want my heroes with a bit of an edge. And with Craig and this new direction for Bond, I think we may just get the whole damn sword.

And here is the Superman Returns Trailer. Superman's back and is brought to us by the man responsible for two fantastic comic book movies, Bryan Singer.

Though Kevin Spacey worries me for not being Gene Hackman and trying to be and Kate Bosworth worries me because she is, in fact, Kate Bosworth, I am pumped for this movie. Singer has, at the very least, filled this trailer with iconic shots and beautiful scoring. Much excitement.

While those are both great trailers, the most exciting for me is the X-Men: The Last Stand Trailer. Bryan Singer is gone? That sucks. Matthew Vaughn is now directing? Awesome! Aw, Vaughn had to leave? Damn. Brett Ratner is helming? Holy shit, X-Men is dead.

All that and still the trailer is powerful enough to make my heart beat quickly and tears to threaten? Awesome trailer.

I'm Proud

That's a rather obvious statement. I can be very proud at times. A good thing, a bad thing - delightfully relative at times.

However, my pride at this moment can in no way be relative and can only be thought of as good. I'm very proud of the girl, you see. For all our ups and downs, I'm always proud of her. Sometimes less, sometimes more - but such is the taste of life.

Why am I so very proud of the girl at this moment?

You see, she just got accepted into Berkeley for Italian studies. Brilliant, no?

I had no doubts the girl could get into Berkeley, yet I was quite convinced that she simply didn't have the background that Berkeley would readily accept. I believe this girl is quite brilliant, I am in love with the girl - so she would logically have to be. I suppose I could fall for someone whose bats were not all accounted for in the belfry. But it seems highly unlikely. The girl has a wonderful intellect and a sparkling imagination. I'm not shocked that Berkeley recognized this and rewarded her for it. I am shocked that they looked beyond other things, such as being homeschooled.

It just highlights the fact that she is just that damn awesome.

I realise this might be overly sacchrine and horribly warm and fuzzy. While I deny until my death that I am sacchrine (truly), I can definitely find myself approaching warmth and fuzziness. To quote Phil or Lil from "Rugrats" - "I feel all warm and fuzzy. Uh-oh, diaper needs a changin'."

I'm very proud of the girl. I've told her that many times, but rather like telling her I love her - I doubt there is enough time in this life to tell her to the extent that it would define the breadth of my love and pride.

So, this is but another way and avenue to express my pride in my girl.

Cheers.

What is Lust?

Sex is never dormant. Yet as the days get hotter and more clothes are either shed or even denied access to tantalizing flesh, sex becomes more of a focus. Admittedly, a string bikini can be sighted on any day of the year in any media, but from April onwards the sight becomes a hell of a lot more realistic. (Watching, say, "Bikini Island" in the dead of winter may be fun and dream-inspiring, but watching it in the summer adds a dimension of reality to those dreams.) And, hot damn, our culture does love women in string bikinis, or any other derivative. Or, rather, it just loves the women who willingly objectify themselves in order to perpetuate the notion that the female is sex and nothing else. A jump? Maybe, but bear with me.

Our culture has two basic assumptions that are yet again laid bare by the oncoming season of bare flesh. The first is, as mentioned above, women are sex. The second is the startling (perhaps even defendable) belief that men are uncontrollable sex fiends.

Needless to say, these two assumptions are the source of the incredible lack of right and true communication about sex in our society and in the Church.

Women are sex. While how this assumption is incorrect is completely obvious, let's just state the obvious. We are sexual creatures. Women are sexual creatures. As are men. Yet we are not exclusively sexual. Sex defines us, yet it does not equate us. So, disproving that was pretty easy. High-fives all around. But why does our world view women as sexual objects and why, in an unbelievable correlation, does society then refuse women their sexuality?

I'm only retreading new ground here, so this is all assuredly mundane. These are complex questions which have been explored ad infinitum. However, there is one simple way to answer both questions. Women are objectified sexually because they are denied their sexuality, and conversely are denied their sexuality because they are so sexually objectified. Make sense? (If a person's sexuality is not given to them, they more easily fulfill and satisfy the sexual demands of others. When sexuality and the inherent individuality therein are denied, the sexual identity of those we objectify becomes that of the collective and not the individual.) Our world, but for very few instances, has been ruled by men. And men? Well, they do stupid shit. Especially without the influence of the supposed counter balance, women, and with the absurd encouragement of the supposedly penis loving Bible. Yet even that statement leans upon that men are creatures made dumb by sex. How we can separate and more further explore these assumptions I do not know. However, there can be no doubt these assumptions are inherently intertwined.

Men are sex fiends. Why are men seen as the sex starved animals that use women as objects for their lust, all the while denying women sexual equality? Are men...such? Can a man not look at a woman without lusting over her, taking her in his mind? Have we not based our entire culture on this premise, that man both needs woman for his pleasure and his dominance? I think the answer to that question is an obvious affirmative that finds source in two facets of our society. One, our culture. Who cannot see this affirmation in every billboard, movie, music video, and magazine? I doubt very much that every consumer in the world is either a lesbian or a straight man, either with a raging libido. Yet our media presents itself with the underlying assumption that every target is a 30 year old straight man. Look at the demographics which executives all over the world dream about - it's all about men. The young female demagraphic is a mysterious, hollowed ground. I've heard and read countless stories citing the excitement of capturing the fabled female market. No one knows what women want (except Mel Gibson, of course). Yet all those executives certainly seem to think they know what young men want and need: tits and explosions, with some comedy thrown in. It isn't just the media (and politicians) who haven't a clue about the woman and completely understand the man. The second "Yes" that I see, and in part my influence to write this, emanates from the Church. The Church demands modesty for a variety of reasons. The first, but not chief (we hope), among them is that by dressing modestly, women would not cause men to stumble, or lust. Implicitly, the greatest religious institution on earth acknowledges: "Men are dogs, insatiable whores - and women need to make sure that they curb their inner slut so men can rule the roost without a knobbly thing leading them." I'm paraphrasing of course.

So our world seems to be defined by the fact that men cannot control themselves around women who own their sexuality. Is it right? Does this make sense? Is our entire culture defined by a premise and assumptions that are false?

Every cliche has at its core a truth that has lasted through time. 'tis why there cliches. There is undoubtedly truth to the assumption that men cannot control themselves sexually. Yet what that truth is I don't know. My mind, for the moment or forever, is coloured by too many years of tacitly accepting assumptions. Even now when I have denied those assumptions as truth, I cannot escape what seems to be the truth behind such assumptions. It seems too easy to say, "Of course the assumptions about men are true, we have an entire history of the earth to justify them and damn men." Way too easy to declare the truth behind those assumptions as reason enough for them. But I have even used some of those assumptions in my writing today. As for the truths that may lay behind those assumptions, certainly there are some that pop into my head. Men are more visual than women - the defense for men watching pornography. That's one. But even that is wrapped around and between the assumptions of who and what men and women are in today's culture.

What is lust? That's the question I first wanted to ask and Lust is the driving force of capitalism and the horror of churches. We should be damn well sure of what it is. Both for us as individuals and as a collective.

We all certainly know what lust is, objectively, right? The greedy, proud thing some of us are easily capable of.

Yet, I ask the question about lust because the word has another connotation. Sex has become lust, or lust sex, in the world at large. To the world, sex is lust and it is good! To the Church, sex is lust and it is bad!

We have no idea what sex is. At least, they *he makes a grand gesture of waving his arm in a large semi-circle* don't.

So the world derives most of its business from sex

The church is running scared from sex.

And they don't have a clue as to what sex really is.

There is such an incredible miscommunication about sex and sexuality. We objectify and condone thrusting upon an individual the presumed sexuality of a society, all in one neat little bundle. The only way we can stop this and verify the truth of sexuality is by understanding the truth of ourselves and who we are. Now, personally I would argue that for anyone to truly understand themselves, they must seek God first. Not the most popular sentiment, I'm sure.

However, we still must seek that truth of self. But truth of self will never suffer the indignity of our culture unless acceptance preceedes it. If we can't accept the other, how can we possibly accept the self? (And with such a question follows, how can we find comfort in our own sexuality if another's sexuality, which in large part is a projection of our own, weirds us the hell out?)

There are strictly accepted definitions of femininity and masculinity. The female is motherly, quiet, soft, and placating. The male is courageous, hard, action-orientated, and passionate. Generalities are fine, and even accurate for most men and women as they may fall into those general and ambiguous definitions. Yet a problem arises for two reasons. The first, these gender definitions are strict. The second proceeds from the first. Because such definitions are given no chance to breathe, society at large does not accept anyone who exists outside those definitions. The butch female, the feminine man. These are unacceptable visions of manhood and womanhood in the eyes of the world. Yet these visions inherently deny the complexity of humanity. Men are strong but weak. Women are weak but strong. Men are passionate yet rational. Women are placating yet passionate. We are defined, I would argue, by the hypocrisies of our nature that defy definitions.

The girl will know this well - I call myself a hypocrite by nature. I pray to God I am not the hypocrite Christ damned. Yet I will proudly lay claim to the title of hypocrite if, by the title, all of my complexities, absurdities, and twisting speech are understood not as false things because of inherent (assumed) contradictions, but rather incredibly true things that are inherently human; contradictions and hypocricies that make me more of a real man than I ever could be by "straightening" myself out to common standards.

(I'm not quite sure how to end this, so I just will. I'm also not exactly sure what this is, beyond a simple experiment in thought. So...here it is.)

The Girl is Home!

To quote Erin and every well respected, decent Englishman....

HUZZAH!

The girl has been away a long time. And we've been apart. Conceivably we've always been apart. A 7 hour drive. 9 hours. It's all the same. What's a 9 hour flight?

Apparently a lot.

Go figure.

(This is so completely an off the wall love letter to the girl so, like, buzz off if you don't want to read.)

So much has happened in the past year, and unfortunately we've had to share those experiences vicariously. The really bad part is that our vicarious experiences have happened over a 56K modem in a rickety house bombarded by a huge spalunking thunderstorm.

In a word, patchy.

There's nothing much frustrating in this world (actually, there are a hell of a lot more things and I've experienced a lot of them, but hey, I'll go with the dramatic) than not being able to talk to the one you love when you want.

I want to talk to this girl for the rest of my life. It's been hard.

It's also been edifying.

I know more of you. I see more of you. And I am still so passionately in love with you. If not more so.

I really like you. You're one hell of a cool chick. And you're almost as twisted to me. Fingers crossed that you'll get there eventually. You show great promise little one.

Ultimately that's all I want to say. I love you like an exploding supernova in the Neverending Story. You know, 'cause it'll never end. And it'll destroy...that place...you know...Fantastica! (I'm destructive!) So, yeah, you're awesome. I'm glad you're home. *waves a little flag like Stuart Little at a football match*

It seems like I have not the eloquence to say anymore. (And I feel like I should just shut up, thank you Mike & Mike. I suspect only Andrew will get that, and even he might not.)

Cheers.

Now I Wait

The girl comes home on Sunday.

Very excellent.

The bad part? I sent my lovely girl a suprise present to occupy her time on the train to Rome and the following plane ride.

Did I send it in enough time? Oh, yes, I do believe so. However, I was silly enough to bank the thing getting there at least within the maximum amount of time they said the present would take to get there.

I do believe you can somewhat reliably bank on the United States Post Office.

European postal corriers? No chance in hell.

The sad thing is that what I sent is immensely important. Now I must bide my time and wait for it to be either forwarded to the girl or returned back to me. That's not the kind of shit I like to wait for.

These are pins and needles.

This is my ass.

Like long lost lovers, they come together with passion.

I Have a Problem with Smoking

I cite a brilliant Farside comic:

Two bears are in the woods. They are standing over a dead hunter.

One Bear is pointing at the gun the other Bear is holding, obviously just having said something.

The other Bear replies indignantly: "Thunderstick? You actually said Thunderstick? That, my friend, is a Winchester 30.06!"

I was walking along campus one day this week, sun was shining and all was glorious. Suddenly this guy cuts in front of me, leaving a cloud of smoke in my face. I turn to look at him to give the fellow a passing glance as I continued walking. Here are exactly my thoughts:

Blasted thunderstick.
No...wait, can't be right. Not a thunderstick, it's a...
It's a firestick!
...blasted firestick.

I then stopped walking and wondered aloud, "Did I just call a cigarette a firestick?"

Undoubtedly I had. And as I began walking once more, I had to come to grips with the fact that I just veritably channeled the incarnate Gary Larson. It was pretty strange. And incredibly demonstrative of how wacked out my mind is.

My wacked out mind and my love of all things Gary Larson, this I give to you today.

Tool's New'un

On May 2nd, Tool releases "10,000 Days." It's been 5 years since "Laterulas", my favorite Tool CD to date.

I knew guys in highschool who listened to Tool. They had the patches on their bookbags and were the quintessential tools and stoners. I knew who Tool was but, given that it took me a few years to get my bearings in pop culture, some time passed before I was fully acquainted with Tool. Fast forward to the summer of 2001, I believe, when I bought my first Tool album, the aforementioned "Lateralus." Exciting, meaningful, Christian-bashing rock'n'roll. I'm not a fan of the Christian bashing, but I see the truth in it. I wonder what Maynard would say if he knew one of his fans was a devoted to the God who "Wear(s) the grudge like a crown of negativity."

Also a huge fan of A Perfect Circle, Maynard's more intimate side project. I actually listened to A Perfect Circle far earlier than I did Tool, so at least knew what Tool could be like given my fascination and deep appreciation for A Perfect Circle. There was a girl in a church I used to go to who, at one point during a discussion about popular culture, broke down in tears over the hatred of God expressed by bands like Tool. I can understand her tears, truly. But I can't fathom them because I simply cannot refuse great music. I used to not be able to listen to Circle's "Judith." It contains the lyric "Fuck your God." Pretty hard for me to swallow. Yet, I gave a lot of time and consideration to the song even though I'd heard it only once or twice - it had such an amazing rock element. I realized that the lyric was a condemnation of the ignorance of Christians, which I am so completely in support of, and not, perhaps, of God Himself. It is truly worthy to listen to someone's thoughts about my religion, my God, and my faith - perhaps even when those words are laced with such venom and hatred. Truth behind the hatred. Maybe truth we can erradicate. Uplifting, eh?

Back to the topic at hand...

I'm listening to the first track off of "10,000 Days." The song, "Vicarious," is vintage Tool. Epic at 7 minutes and 8 seconds, percussive and riffing, all with Maynard's haunting and explosive voice. Yet while the song might be vintage Tool, apparently the album is not. And it's getting a hell of a lot of grief for it.

I'll wait and giddily await my chance to listen to the latest offering from my favorite hard rock band.

Freakin' A.

My Trip to Brokeback

It's personally insulting how long it took for me to see Brokeback Mountain. A film so critically acclaimed and so deliciously contested, yet three months passed before it came before my eyes. (Isn't it tragically indicative of how crippled my movie-going experience is that I thought Brokeback was released last summer?)

**Edit: So did not mean to post this for obvious reasons - my thoughts are minimalist! Shall come back soon enough. Aren't you waiting with baited breath?

The Midnight Devil

Most quizzes are ridiculous. Some, however, absolutely fascinate me. If only since I know what I should get, theoretically, and am therefore curious as to whether or not the expectation will match the result. The two below are definitely quizzes I thought would be fun.

The first is a time of day quiz. I was pleased with the result.

You Are Midnight

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits. Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle. Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it. You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

What Time Of Day Are You?

The second decides which Tarot card I am. Fun, eh? I was absolutely delighted with this result.

Which Tarot Card Are You?

You are the Devil card. The Devil is based on the figure Pan, Lord of the Dance. The earthy physicality of the devil breeds lust. The devil's call to return to primal instincts often creates conflict in a society in which many of these instincts must be kept under control. Challenges posed by our physical bodies can be overcome by strength in the mental, emotional, and spiritual realms. Pan is also a symbol of enjoyment and rules our material creativity. The devil knows physical pleasure and how to manipulate the physical world. Material creativity finds its output in such things as dance, pottery, gardening, and sex. The self-actualized person is able to accept the sensuality and usefulness of the devil's gifts while remaining in control of any darker urges. Image from The Stone Tarot deck. http://hometown.aol.com/newtarotdeck/
Take this quiz!








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Very happy.

But the coding format displeases me. Yet I have not the patience to fix it. So it shall remain a thorn in my side. 'tis one of my many crosses.

Satisfying the Movie Whore Inside Me pt. 1

There are particular moments in time that I cherish above all others. Kissing the girl, reading/writing while lounging in pillowy grass, and watching beautiful trees sway in the wind rank as the top three. However, there is one experience that may even trump all three of those. Or at least two of them. 'Cause I do enjoy a good kiss, even gnome kisses are quality.

Nevertheless, I'm a sucker for a quality experience with movies. So much so that I have a hard time justifying watching a mediocre movie by myself for the pure enjoyment of the film. I certainly can, hell I saw "Bring It On" by myself just to giggle unashamedly for an hour and a half. (A goodish story involving me, a cop, and expired tags followed my fateful viewing of Kirsten Dunst's masterwork. Stay tuned for that one if I ever get to it.) Of course, I did see "Bring It On" in the theatre and I almost need no justification whatsoever to go see a movie at the theatre. Yet taking the time and sitting on a couch by myself for cinematic joy is incredibly hard for me to justify. To wit, the last movie I watched by my lonesome on the tub was "Oldboy" and I have "Irreversible" and "Requiem for a Dream" still waiting for me.

I'm hard to please, man.

So, it's clearly a tough deal for me to actually pick movies for myself. That said, I'm entirely more engageable when I have another soul to spy with. And last weekend, as I wanted some quality time with my mother, I picked out three movies which I thought would provide at least some interestin' viewin'. I am pleased to say that I still have the golden touch of choosing movies - a golden touch which does NOT apply to groups larger than 4 people and include...certain people. I cannot be held responsible in that case. Large groups that do not contain like minded souls perplex me. I chose "Punch Drunk Love" for a New Years bash a few years ago because I thought it one of the sweetest and most brilliantly filmed love stories. I still think that, even with Sandler as the lead. But simply not for souls who like a challenge.

Regardless, on to the movies!

Movie #1: A History of Violence
I'm now convinced that Maria Bello is the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen on film. And that's not just because she engaged in definitely the most sensuous 69 and one of most emotional fucks I've seen on screen. Don't get me wrong, those are surely reasons. Yet her beauty on screen flies far from her sexuality and attractiveness. The body of her work in this film, in fantastic tandem with the swarmy Viggo, is so full and passionate. I challenge you to work her performance in this film and not stand amazed. Now, I'm not saying hers is the greatest performance of any woman. However, I do acknowledge the wonderful character she wove together.

As a whole, the "A History of Violence" is incredibly difficult to watch. Difficult because the humanity exuded is so complete and total. I felt as if I were on a roller coaster, both excited and dreading the certain end. However, I also challenge you to expect this ending. There is such emotion and consuming fire throughout the work. Brilliant.

Movie #2: Ladies in Lavender
This was my film 'specially for m'mom. She likes the films about old women and the high octane antics they get into. Put the old ones in Britain and my mom is even more sold than before. Count me sold as well. The only movie I've seen to truly capitalize on this apparently new genre of film is "Calendar Girls." However, that's all on the word of my parents. Despite my delight in Helen Mirren, I have not seen the gal prance around nearly buff. I have, though, seen Dame Judy Dench lust after a 20 year old boy. It's an interesting sight to behold, I assure you.

"Ladies" is a lovely film. Evocative of a sweet time and place I've only seen created so well before by Rosamunde Pilcher. In addition, the violin plays a centerpiece of sorts to the heart of "Lavender." This is good. But even better? The violin is played by Joshua Bell. He's not the most talented of players, but when it comes to it, he can be gratifyingly electric. The girl should know him.


Movie #3: Elizabethtown

Huge fan of Cameron. But when "Elizabethtown" came out, I avoided it like the plague. As much as I keep hoping for Orlando Bloom to find a role to shine in, I couldn't bare seeing him struggle through this emotional fare. Kirsten Dunst is one of those actresses that I can only imagine is where she is because of decent but not great talent and fabulous luck. I can't say this definitively, but Dunst seems to play the same voice and face in every role she plays. It's incredibly distracting. However, I gave it a try, largely based on the sister's recommendation.

It was good. Not surprising from Cameron Bruce Crowe. More than that, though, is how decently both Bloom and Dunst acted. Dunst I could tolerate and Bloom, while he admittedly had at least two really cringe-worthy moments, was respectable. However, the engaging thing was their chemistry. It made the movie enjoyable. What made the movie fantastic? The music.

Two words: Great Music.

And with that, I'm done. Movie Whore very full and sated with a smug grin.

My Hatred of Chapstick

Don't get me wrong, I love chapstick. There's nothing worse than experiencing dry, cracked lips - especially for someone who really likes to smile when there's good cause to do so. And you can thank Peekaboo Street for my englightened views on lip care. (Was she the one who started the craze of ski suits with webbing on the knees and elbows?) I like my lips. So naturally I take pride in their upkeep. Or knawing at them whenver I'm stressed. What have you.

My hunger for good lip care was the cause of my excitement one day in a local drug store. You see, I found a lip balm made specially for men. I really don't like fruity stuff, especially when it comes to coming in contact with my lips. [This is why I appreciate the girl's lack of desire - which is not total, something also appreciated - for lip type stuff.] So naturally this manly man type lip balm was advertised of being free of berry flavorings. I could only approve.

And the stuff came in the coolest silver box and silver tube. My own silver bullet. Only without the orgams.

And the taste. Oh! The taste! The only way I can accurately describe the stuff is by calling it a warm mix of diluted lemon, beeswax and honey butter. It was glorious! That blessed lip balm was not only an answer to prayer for my lips but also to my sensibilities of wanting some quality, non-"exotic fruit extravaganza" lip care.

Yet then, tragedy struck. In a lecture in the Little Hat at Cambridge my bookbag tipped over and out popped my chapstick, out of my bag and into the world of infamy. I could not find it! No. I searched both high and low, for of course the lecture hall was stadium-like (being also utterly cool) and I, in wanting to cover every single base, searched both the steps below and above where I lost my lil' bullet. Such was my desperation.

(I think I was sitting beside Damion for that lecture, though I can't remember what lecture it was. The lectures ranged from delightful, to good, to horrendous. I think that day was a good day.)

With trepidation, I come back to the states balm-less. Yet such was my confidence of finding righteous lip care that I strode into the nearest Target without a doubt in my head that I would soon equip myself again.

Oh the horror!!!

The chapstick was no more. Is no more!

So here do I mope
I refuse what cannot match,
No immitations!

(Honestly, what the hell? Was this even a chapstick? Was it official Chapstick? I even went so far as to search for it on ebay and I can find no reference to it whatsoever. I sigh, homeboys.)

I'm Looking Forward to All That Comes

I truly am.

Reading Damion's post from yesterday gave me great pause. First, I couldn't be happier for him. He truly is a wonderful soul, a fantastic friend, and an incredibly kick-ass future academian. If you didn't get it before now, brother, you rock and I am so glad to know you as a true friend. Second, it made me think again about the path that I'm on. Even though I'm not pursuing an advanced degree in literature or holing myself up in some godforsaken house to pen my masterpiece, I'm digging the path that I'm walkin'. Still, it's all pretty freak-inspiring. Indeed, I think I've been on the verge of an utter freak out for the past few weeks due to such inspiration.

Actually, I think that my being on that verge limited my posting despite the many ideas I've had for posts. What, three people read this? Well, still, I apologize for not being more consistent. But hey, you people get me much more than my friends in England who I still have not responded to for...nigh on two months. I really should abandon electronic media and go back to pen and paper (like I don't already), so I at least have an excuse for my inability to get off a timely ditty.

To be sure and to be back on topic, I'm certainly not complaining. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Top 25 program, top 20 school, and all without having to spend (much) of my own money. Natch.

All that said, I'm nervous about what this path holds for me. For many reason I couldn't continue directly with literature. For the sake of my sanity I could not continue in pure mathematics or, really, any derivative. So, Economics. A little bit of math, a little bit of writing, and a dash of human behavior. I'm excited for what I could do. But what is it? What in the world could I possibly accomplish? We all hope to put our stamp on something, with little success for the majority. I do and have always hoped to at least rule the world. Yet, failing that, I want to have some impact on the world around me. And beyond some simplistic and fuzzy desire to be a good person, I truly wonder how or if I can achieve such wants through economics.

But mostly I don't want school to be a chore anymore. Talking with the girl this morning, she suddenly realised that she had 5 more years of dealing with my bitching about school. (Darlin', I have 7 plus years of the same for you - so no complaining for you, hottest woman I've ever met.) Not ruling the world and not enjoying school, two big fears. There are so many horror stories about graduate school, even within fields genuinely loved. And I'm going into Economics pretty much blind. It certainly does not bode well for me.

Yet I have my hopes. I hope I come close to the pleasure Damion has experienced at Maryland (I so dearly wanted to be a turtle...). I hope I'm challenged, exhorted, encouraged. I want the majority of my time spent in endeavors that titillate my soul with good, sex/fuzzy type feelings instead of those feelings that cross far too over the boundaries of masochism for comfort's sake. School has been a bore for me in the past 9 semester that I've been here. I can't imagine continuing in that same vein. I realise such may be the work most people find themselves in. But I'll be forced into such an existence before I gladly choose it. I enjoyed my undergraduate education, yet it wasn't everything it could have been, you could say.

And this is just a post to say I've got every little thing crossed that can be crossed to ensure Chapel Hill will be everything I can make it.

Talk about self-indulgence, heh.

A Disturbing Motion-Captured Event

My intial thoughts upon seeing the above:

"The coolest thing I've ever seen."

"The most disturbing thing I've ever seen."

Jean Claude, we miss you. Can anyone guess which movie this is from?

**Apparently blogger hates gif files and refuses to play what I believe will capture your heart and mind. Visit my beloved CHuD for the gloriousness of Jean Claude Van Damme break dancing. Huge clue to the movie right there.

How Long You Say?!

Below are the videos, in descending order, that have come out on DVD since the Girl left for a year in Perugia (if only it were Provence, she could put out a bestselling book and a kickass movie starring Inspector Morse).

Isn't this depressing?

The number one movie we're looking forward to seeing together?

(I'm probably more excited about watching Pride and Prejudice with her, but any chance to watch her freak out and laugh with her is a damn good reason to watch a movie.)

04/11/06 - Fun With Dick and Jane, The Greatest Game Ever Played, An Unfinished Life, and Wolf Creek.

04/04/06 - Bee Season, Brokeback Mountain, The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Ushpizin.

03/28/06 - Get Rich or Die Tryin', King Kong, and Memoirs of a Geisha.

03/21/06 - Capote, Chicken Little, Derailed, Dreamer: Inspired by a True Story, and The Squid and the Whale.

03/14/06 - A History of Violence, Good Night, and Good Luck, and The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio.

03/07/06 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Jarhead, Just Friends, and Prime.

02/28/06 - The Ice Harvest, Pride & Prejudice, Walk the Line, and Yours, Mine & Ours.

02/21/06 - Domino, North Country, Rent, and The Weather Man.

02/14/06 - Proof, Saw II, and Zathura.

02/07/06 - Doom, Elizabethtown, Just Like Heaven, Waiting…, and Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

01/31/06 - In Her Shoes, The Legend of Zorro, and Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.

01/24/06 - The Aristocrats, Flightplan, and The Fog.

01/17/06 - Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room, Lord of War, The Man, and Two for the Money.

01/10/06 - The Constant Gardener, Hustle & Flow, Red Eye, and Transporter 2.

01/03/06 - Broken Flowers, The Cave, The Gospel, and Wedding Crashers.

12/27/05 - 2046, Dark Water, Grizzly Man, Into the Blue, and The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill.

12/20/05 - The Brothers Grimm, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Four Brothers, The Great Raid, Must Love Dogs, Rebound, and Serenity.

12/13/05 - The 40 Year-Old Virgin, Bad News Bears, The Island, Roll Bounce, and Valiant.

12/06/05 – Cinderella Man, The Dukes of Hazzard, Fantastic Four, and Ladies in Lavender.

11/29/05 - Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo, March of the Penguins, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and Sky High.

11/22/05 - The Honeymooners, The Polar Express, and War of the Worlds.

11/15/05 - Madagascar, The Skeleton Key, and Stealth.

11/08/05 - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Christmas With the Kranks, and The Devil's Rejects.

11/01/05 - Aliens of the Deep, Millions, The Perfect Man, and Star Wars Episode III – Revenge of the Sith.

10/25/05 - Bewitched, Herbie: Fully Loaded, House of Wax, and Melinda and Melinda.

10/18/05 - Batman Begins, Land of the Dead, and Mad Hot Ballroom.

10/11/05 - Kicking & Screaming, Kingdom of Heaven, Me and You and Everyone We Know, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, and Unleashed.

10/04/05 - The Amityville Horror, Cinderella, and The Interpreter.

09/27/05 - Lords of Dogtown and Robots.

09/20/05 - The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl, Born Into Brothels, The Longest Yard, and Mindhunters.

09/13/05 - Fever Pitch and The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

09/06/05 - Crash.

08/30/05 - Monster-in-Law, Ong-Bak: The Thai Warrior, and Sahara.

08/23/05 - Beauty Shop, Layer Cake, A Lot Like Love, and The Ring Two.

Queen, Idol, and I

Bucky - “Fat Bottomed Girls” - I hate this kid, he has such a horrible presence. But his voice actually did the song a bit of justice. Though the gruffness was a bit too much after a while. Wow, he’s married. I wouldn’t have thought. Quite agree with Simon, “mediocre.” I want him to go.

Ace - “We Will Rock You” - Ugh, he tried to pop it up. Negative points homeboy. Worst choice of song in the world for him. He’s not hard enough for this song. Pathetic. That’s right Randy, Karioke. No Paula, no Paula…you don’t change “We Will Rock You.” Right on Simon, a “mess.” “We Will Rock You gently” - very nice. And he did forget the lyrics! I hope you’re gone, man. Loser.

Ace sucks. Cocky pretty boy.

Kellie - “Bohemian Raphsody” - Why did she have to do it? Another blonde chick. Ok, she’s kind of hitting it. Oh! She went into the crowd, somewhat cool. Randy’s right, “entertained.” “I think it worked,” is right. You’re right Damion… “ewww.” But hey, even I can say I didn’t hate it. Now I need to hear the real thing. I’m cleansing myself with the voice of Freddie.

“It’s his accent, I don’t understand it.” “We both have a problem here.” Sad, funny interchange.

Chris - “Innuendo” - I love this guy. His voice is magnetic, and so hard, full. Damn, that was so brilliant. If he doesn’t win this I’ll be amazed. Huh, never been performed live. I’m impressed they let him do it. Simon’s correct, not the greatest song in the world - but I would have loved to have heard Freddie’s voice on it. And despite the obvious, I think I rather got it. Indulgent fantasy - wanting Chris to sing either “We are the Champions” or “Princes of the Universe.”

Catherine - “Don’t Stop Me Now” - “Who Wants to Live Forever” - Highlander plug! She didn’t catch it. The joy of this fun is the heartache in Freddie’s voice in the beginning few seconds. She’s just belting it. How sucky. Just stop. “Glorious voice”? I’m sorry, you’re tone deaf Paula. Top it off Simon, she looked horrible and sounded awful. I hate her. I hater her so much. You screamed.

Elliot - “Somebody to Love” - You’ve never heard the song?! I love this song. Wow, close your eyes. Yeah, that was kinda nice. They’ll love it. And they did. He should win if only for his jaw. He has a nice voice.

Taylor! - “We are the Champions” - “A Crazy Little Thing Called Love” - Interesting. I love this song as well. This fellow entertains me. Damn, if I didn’t enjoy it. Awww, but he missed the mic stand. Yeah, I enjoyed it. I think it was a little too put on.

Paris - “The Show Must Go On” - She actually had me until the chorus. She’s getting drowned out. Eh. No, she clearly isn’t a powerhouse, Paula. Weird, weird is probably good. Nope. Didn’t like it.


Damion, you were right my friend. I was still glad to be excited though. Not everyday one can at least hear the lyrics of Queen on TV. If only to have been there with you to rant and rave, though.

Favorite Performance: Chris. He rocked.

Top Three: Chris, Elliot, Taylor - I can't put Kellie there because as brave as she is, she wasn't brave enough

Bottom Three: Ace, Catherine, Buck - I can't put Paris on there simply because I can't fault the girl for not having Freddie's vocals.

The one thing I learned. I love Freddie Mercury more than ever. And Brian May still has the greatest hair, aside from the lead singer of Coheed & Cambria.

Queen...ON IDOL!

I am an unabashed fan of Queen. Freddie Mercurcy, in the words of Marilyn Manson, is my own personal jesus...after the real deal, of course. I LOVE Queen. I'm not obsessed...I don't think. I have one poster, a fabulous Bohemian tour poster I found at the beach. I have one shirt bought at the "We Will Rock You" musical in London. And of course I have as many songs as I've been able to find. "Bohemian Raphsody" is a constant companion on road trips, along with "Fat Bottomed Girls" and "We Will Rock You." ("Princes of the Universe" is my own personal Queen first, so I keep it in special reserve so that brand new song smell never fades.)

Needless to say, I'm super excited for tonight's American Idol! For, friends, not only are the contestants singing the songs of Queen, the band (I believe, though I'm not positive) will be on as well!

Wahooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I have to admit something. Last weekend, being the occassional pop culture whore that I am, I watched the Idol elimination show. When it became clear that Taylor Hicks was safe and the revelation of the Queen extravaganza became clear, I threw my hands up in the air and celebrated. I've never quite seen a performer like Hicks (think funky, bluesy, hillbilly chique) and the chance to see him sing Queen absolutely kicks my ass.

I am so pumped. For the first time in my life I will be watching an entire episode of American Idol! This reminds me of the series that sought to find a replacement for the unconquerable Michael Hutchence (lead singer of INXS). An epidsode also featured the music of Queen and included a pathetic performance of Bohemian by some blonde-haired chick. I really couldn't stand it...I think they might have even brought in a choir. I thought it was appropriate that she was voted out after her preformance of Raphsody in a very un-Queen like way. You don't mess with Mercury. Hutchense's eventual replacement, JD Fortune, on the other hand was quite delightful that night.

So I have my fingers crossed.

I'm pumped, I'm excited, I would be having friends over if they were cool enough to like Queen. I don't so - that are close enough anyway, otherwise I would have my ass planted on Damion's sofa - pffbt on them!

Watch Idol!

To Serve Them All My Days

R.F. Delderfield wielded a massive influence on my childhood. He and James Herriot, actually, were like my twin gods of Englishness constantly hovering above the chaos of my red-headed childhood. My first experience with Delderfield was, as were most of my first experiences with books, as I lounged on my parents' green wicker furniture out on the sun-baked side porch of my illustrious childhood home. [By the by, Barnes and Noble can quite go to hell. Its top 4 search results for my chain query of "To Serve Them All My Days"? - All the Wild and Lonely Places, Meg's Absolutely Wonderful Tremendous Fantastic Day, My Battle with Cushing's Disease, and the Mormon Missionaries. Que?!] As much as I remember ideals, turns of phrase, and the importance of passion in word play, I remember too the smell of summer and the mixed sounds of birds and cars as they simulatenously passed by my insular world.

Quaint, eh?

Delderfield taught me many things. Foremost among his teachings was the idea of how incredibly impassioned education should be. I didn't learn of my want to become an amazing student from that lesson (a sad thing, I assure you). Rather, I became fascinated with the idea and ideal of teaching. The rather chummy air between teachers. The faux fieroscity of teachers as they chastise and encourage students. Tea and crumpets. It all read like such a journey - not only a socially engaging journey, but one in which passion was defined as the burning centre of every human. That might sound like a weird thing coming from a book written by a stodgy Englishman. But it ties in - it has to. Here is this fellow fresh from the horrors of WWI who finds both rest and meaning within the walls of an English boarding school (how's that for a scintillating summary?) And through that recouperative rest (I don't do this often, promise), this man finds passion again, redefined and breathing inside of him.

How cool is that?

I don't want to teach. I refuse, for the most part, because I want to maintain this ideal picture of the teacher. I don't want to taint it. I've been blessed with some of the most encouraging and talented teachers in my life. I'd truly have to be tempted by the devil himself and all his trappings to teach. Otherwise I'd just like to sit quietly (hah) in a corner with a pen in hand and allow other, more courageous personages than I, the chance to teach...before I pounce all over them. (Like a cat!)

Regardless. Despite my inspid babbling, I come to express my joy at the 1982 miniseries of "To Serve Them All My Days." I realise there are few indeed who even know who Delderfield is, even fewer who know of his dash through the fabled halls of English boarding schools. Nonetheless, I hold great joy in it.



(Erin, have you ever seen this series?)

Passion. For some reason, it defines me. Well, that's a silly statement. Passion should define all of our lives. However, even as a child I recognized the magnetism of passion - whether it be in teaching, the magical drawings of a wandering Japanese peasant, or talking drags. I want to fold myself into those worlds in which passion is defined as central to all things.

A passion for teaching: this I learned from Delderfield.

So What Am I?

As of this past Saturday, I learned of Virginia's decision to admit me into their grad program. Wahoo! Of course, I found out in the most anticlimactic of ways: online. Despite that, colour me excited and whatnot. However, I was already accepted into Chapel Hill and wanted to give them enough time to send out their financial package to another student if I, "oh please oh please oh please," was accepted into Virginia with lots and lots of money. So I ventured out and sent an e-mail to the Graduate Studies director, asking for news about financial aid. Simple answer: there was none. And there were no reasonable opportunities for funding outside of a loan.

Shucks. Shucks for two reasons. One, I desperately wanted to go to Virginia so I could finally establish myself just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the girl. Two, I had to twist Virginia's arm to tell me anything. Fact is I still haven't received anything in the mail. Kinda lame, dude, kinda lame.

So. No Virginia and no Maryland. And with Delaware and UNC-Greensboro offering 115% and 80%, respectively, less funding than Chapel Hill, easy decision eh?

No, not quite. I needed a period of mourning. I was incredibly jazzed at the possibility of attending Viriginia and living not only so close to the girl but also attending a University that she's somewhat interested in transferring to. We've existed for 2 years and change at no closer than 6 hours (by my driving, 7 by Mapquest) apart for more than 2 weeks. Regardless of looking a gift horse in the mouth and being a bastard for whining about the incredible opportunity at CH, it was upsetting that Virginia just isn't an option.

But that was Monday and Tuesday. Today is Wednesday.

Today is the day that I fully accepted the offer to become a graduate Tar Heel.

Eyes to See V

Last Friday I managed to get out to the theatres(!) and caught V for Vendetta. Oh happy day! This is a film I've been anticipating for months. Hugo Weaving - Natalie Portman - 1984'esque pulp violence - Wachowski's back to from: I'm so freakin' there, man. And for all of the anticipation and excitment of such a "dangerous" film - it lived up to all the hype.

What an amazing film. V for Vendatta is a great film. Yet more than that, it is such a huge, beautiful slap in the face to religious politics. V is filled with stunning and shocking visuals that would truly be ruined in part if I mentioned them here. These are perhaps not unexpected visuals - but to attempt to describe them in words so poor as my own would truly undercut anyone's first experience with the message of V.

And oh!, what a great message V gives us. A message of violence and peace, passivity and unrest, hope and despair.

I don't think it's much of a shocker that where Guy Fawkes failed V did not. However, I watched the screen, mouth agape and tears streaming down my face as the finale ripped through the celluloid. A friend, if he gets over to Cambridge for the summer, will ask his classmates what they thought of that awesome end of V. I'd love to know myself. As I think about it, I probably would not be as shocked if the White House or the like were similarly...metaphored, as it were. Interesting, eh?

I was thrilled with the content of V. Vendetta could have gone several ways in showcasing great "evils" that the totalitarian regime rallied and coalesced itself against. They could have gone for religion (anti-Muslim) or sex (anti-gay) - and of course the politics thereof. I think it's fantastic that they went with the sex route - because of course I am such a whore for sex. Not to say they left religion alone - Vendetta got in a nice jab when Muslim terrorists were executed for unleashing St. Mary's virus. Furthermore, through the partial focus on sexuality, the film explored the evils of patriarchy and the counterbalancing power and empathy of women. Yet in the exploration of women as equally powerful creatures, men were not ignored. For that I am very thankful. In rejecting one extreme we can so easily (and sometimes rightly) swing to the other extreme. Pleased am I that while exploring extremes, V for Vendetta did not settle just on the far end of the spectrum.

I loved this film.

I think I understand the hatred of George W. Bush now. Obviously there are petty and childish facets of humanity inspiring such hatred, yet I will lean towards the ideal and go from there. Those who hate our President see the promise of something evil, if not evil itself. That V can never be considered a terrorist (by me, at least) is defined in that he acted against evil, abject evil. Let me clarify, I use evil in the sense that disagreeing with the following phrase is evil: "People should not be afraid of their government, the government should be afraid of its people." (Of course Bush says he wages war against those who are evil. Yet what happens when evil fights evil? For while I do not deny that those terrorists dance happily upon the path of life that will end with hot fire pokers shoved up their collective asses, what good is it when evil fights evil? Since childhood we've been taught never to fight fire with fire. Aren't we doing that now? Isn't that why we're in this quagmire [giggidty, giggidty, go!] in Iraq?) Whether Bush is evil or not, many see a promise of evil - which is enough for some to fight against him. Bush is not afraid of the American people and the power they can wield, that much is clear - and personally has become stunningly clear to me in the most recent past.

V for Vendetta has the most intelligent counter to Bush I've ever seen. Yet it goes further that Bush, which defines the film's longevity. V is also a counter against religious politics.

God wove an amazing tapestry of theology that defines itself not only within the confines of the church but in the world. In the Old Testament God, more or less, fought a holy war against the world. In the New Testament, however, Christ rejected that holy war (for His people) with: "Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and unto God what is God's." I see that as an establishment of the strictest distinction of a separation of the Church from the World. And it is not surprising that such a distinction is made clear, for within the New Testament a new Covenant is created in which the world ceases to be the end prize for the faithful. As a Christian, I view attempting to be holy in the tenants of Christianity or any religion as a state, as a world in any way is a gross neglect of our responsibility to society. I don't mean to say that if there is a group of nice Christians/Muslims/ect. who want to establish a small religious state unto themselves, they can't. Of course they can. It is the people who decide how they shall be ruled - if they collectively want religion, then let them have it. Yet given our world, our lives are defined by diversity. Because that diversity lives under the on-going experiment of democracy where every voice has the choice to make itself heard, no one religion can exert authority over politics - at least not in America. God may rule His people but He does not rule society. I believe He more or less expressed that in the transition from the Old Testament to the New. The New Testament is a testament (haha!) of sorts to what Christianity is and becomes - a religion not defined, as it once was, by society (Gentiles now instead of Jews - not instead of, but). We can take that to mean, I think, that the Gentiles are everyone. And the inherent logic of everyone is that they aren't in one place. They are everywhere, scattered - here, there, and nowhere.

I am lead then to this question: Why are Christians banding together to fight the world?

Let me rephrase, for often the world does need to be fought. Some Christians, however, seem to be circling the wagons, and have forever been circling the wagons, in order to fight the oncoming horde of pagans/atheists/Muslims/ect from taking over the world. Does not the fallacity of the argument jump right out at you? These so-called Christians seek to fight the world in order to preserve the world - or convert it. As a Christian, I declare quite honestly that I live in a delicious paradox - I am both a part of this world and not. I believe I have something far greater to live for than this world. In the meantime, I get to enjoy the hell out of this world and enjoy all that God gave life to.

And I do so enjoy this world.

Biblical Manhood

Imagine this conversation between a man and a woman as to the reasoning behind male leadership -
Man: "But you don't have a penis!"
Woman: "Well...right. I don't have a..."
Man: "Hah! Hah hah! I win!!"

The vaulted Sister (sister of the girl) recently sent me an article having to do with Biblical Manhood. Sounds dirty, doesn't it? Unfortunately there was nothing dirty about the article. No, it detailed the adventures of some dude, Mark Chanski, in quite possibly the worst-titled book in the world, Manly Dominion: In a Passive-Purple-Four-Ball World. Fun stuff, eh? This has nothing to do with an attempt to review the book. Rather, I want to look at some specific quotes from the book that not caught my eye but were also pointed out to me by the sister. In a religion that calls for male authority yet not male domination in a world in which authority is almost tantamont to domination, the issue of male authority is a fine line to walk.

So, clearly, I relish any opportunity to talk about exactly what authority is. Especially in today's society, or simply in my relationship, where authority may take on its true definition but also a delightfully perverted definition which demands an understanding of the nature of equality, duality, and difference. Of course, I like to think that the true defintion of authority is actually that perverted.

But. that's. just. me.

Let's start with what I agree with the cat on. The article's author writes: "In the opening chapters, Chanski...analyzes the unbiblical mindset into which many Christian men have fallen. Many men have embraced the pathetic victim mentality that so thoroughly pervades our modern-day...[and in so doing, they have abdicated their roles as husbands, fathers...and as just plain men]."

I don't believe it's astounding to say that we live in an age of victimhood. Or, rather, we live in an age of realized victimhood. From the dawn of dirty old men there have always been victims. Yet as we begin to shed more and more light into the crevices of our society, we begin to realize more of who and what we are in terms of autonomous individuals. Gone, going, are the days of en masse without the choice of joining the mass. As individualism becomes more important, so too do the issues that individual deals with. Yet the striking realization of this age of self-actualized victimhood is that victims refuse to move past their victimhood. I speak not, surely, of victims who have been truly violated. (In one way or another we must all use absolute definitions, even if it is the absence of the absolute. So, by truly violated I hope you know what I mean.) This phrase seems to be our world's mantra: "I deserve (blank), yet because of (blank) I'm not getting (blank) and so I hate (blank), the bleepity bleepity bleep bleep." [All blanks are not held equal.] Obsessing over victimhood has crippled or threatens to cripple what we are capable of. I fully agree with this Chanski fellow about that.

Yet Chanski seems to feel that this victim mentality is only a threat to men. Yeah it's a threat to men. But it's also a threat to women. Our culture is painting itself in a the corner of mediocrity with the paint brush of unjustified expectations (I think I just gave myself a literary orgasm). As the fabulous Geena Davis said in "A Long Kiss Goodnight" - "Life is pain!" [Her daughter in the film actually repeated the line, but I've repressed the memory...or tried to, damn't!] It's life. So deal with it. And hopefully there are enough of those who love you to help you deal with that thing called life. 'Cause it sucks otherwise.

Chanski continues, or the article continues and Chanksi follows, with some insight into what his theological argument will be in the most horrifically titled book ever. Chanski wants us Christian men to "exercise dominion over creation." Indeed, he goes on to say that "Man is to aggressively dominate his environment, instead of allowing his environment to dominate him."

The worst titler (titleist?) of a book justifies this view with an amazing statment:
"In the Lord Jesus Christ, the Christian finds his ultimate model for subduing and ruling over the opposing circumstances of our sin cursed world."

Christ subdued and ruled over the opposing circumstances in our sin cursed world? Why, yes, I do believe He did. But not quite in the way that Mr. Chanski believes. Christ, I assert humbly, rules absolutely. Yet Christ, the sneaky devil, went about manifesting that absolute rule in a very tricksy way. Christ let the Romans and the Jews subdue Him - God, of all people! - in order to achieve a facet of that absolute rule. It was because Christ let Himself be taken that we have a path of salvation - if you believe that kind of crazy shit. In asserting how Christ subdued and ruled those who opposed Him, I don't think that Chanski is sending quite the message he wants to. You see, the message I take from Christ's Passion is a fundamental reliance upon Faith and submission and not, as I think Chanski wants to have it, the message of "rock with your cock out" - if you'll excuse the vulgarity.

(Domination, leaves a bad taste in your mouth, eh? Yet dominion, not so much. Isn't it incredible how two words with the same root and connected meanings have diversive connotated meanings?)

Chanski continues with "We have been commissioned by God to go out and aggressively assert ourselves as masters over every realm of our lives." He defends such an assertion by declaring that Jesus Christ "provides the ultimate example of one who exercises manly dominion to the nth degree in his life and atoning death." I believe the author wants to intimate that Christ was dominating in His dominion.

Not quite.

Don't get me wrong, Christ was dominating - He is God, He couldn't really not be. Yet the New Testament paints a delightfully complicated picture of how Christ existed in His dominion. Christ questioned His Father and weeped tears of blood as His crucifixion loomed. Funnily enough, I don't quite equate that with domination. Rather, I see Christ's actions as an acceptance of given dominion - rife with metaphors of submission, service, and, yes, authority. In his attempt to paint a simple by-the-numbers "Grow Balls" scheme, Chanski paints an gross picture of what it truly means to be a Christian man (even simply Christian) by following Christ. We are told to have and hold dominion over creation, yet there is only one who dominates. He's God. And He is rather territorial.

Ultimately Chanski advocates some good things (through an article) in a poor, foolish way. Especially in this our world, we must define authority and dominion with words that are equal and do not work in opposition: service, submission, and equality.

Otherwise, when you dumb down Christianity the world in which we live results and words like authority and domination are evil.

I think we've had enough of that. Yeah?


An interesting link: http://www.cbmw.org/rbmw/rbmw.pdf