Sleepless in Boston?

By this time last winter I was neck deep in fresh powder. Fast-forward a year and I feel like Noah. Can I get an ark please? Other than that just living the good life. Raining nonstop and studying nonstop. I guess it works. Too cold to study outside anyway so let mother nature do what she is going to do. I just realized that due to the excess of studying sustained in previous days my mind is fried and I don't have much to say. Thinking hurts. Dr. Seuss help your boy out, "Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple." That is finals in a nutshell.

One Man Band

8:13 on a frigid Boston evening. The thermometer barely reaches into double digits. Add a few paced and calculated gusts of wind and you are feel as though the mercury is reaching double digits...in the negative. All of a sudden that extra sweater with the puppy dog, which on first glance was an embarrassment that would destroy a long standing reputation, is now coveted. Smooth move, kid. Besides it could be worse, it could be purple bunnies or something like that. Now that is the stuff you got beat up for in high school. Until the Jonas Brothers do it, then it's totally acceptable.
What did people do before blogs? Write in journals/diaries/whatever you want to call them. I can dig that. But I often feel that in blogging you lose something. Often times the things most sacred to us don't find their way to the electronic pages of the internet- and rightly so. I can understand not wanting to admitting your deepest desires and fears on a publicly accessible venue. But, I wonder, where do they go then? I believe that there is something deeply cathartic about writing. Sometimes the things you want to say can't be shared with another person. You aren't looking for somebody's evaluation of your life or your opinions. Ok, then do those things stay inside? Maybe that is where they belong. But somehow I think we often need to get these things out. Most of what is kept inside is our fears. And, at least for me, it is the inability to forgive myself. I have failed in this life. And I'm guaranteed to fail again. But I don't forgive myself for the failures. As I sit and reflect on some of them I wonder when they really began. You can't fail as a child. That is just a fact. You're too innocent but this world in which we live seems to wipe that away pretty well as you get older. The morals we once clung too adamantly now find the grip easing. Well, I need to make sure my grip realigns and holds on tighter than ever.
When we are younger we have dreams of who and what we want to be. I'm starting to worry that I'd disappoint my younger self. He was a pretty smart guy I have to say. He worked hard and was true to himself. I owe him an apology. For quite some time I think I've done him quite a disservice. Maybe I should move my flight home and spend a weekend in New York to find myself. What happens to the fish in the pond in Central Park? (The Catcher in the Rye references there for you if you're keeping score at home. If you remember the author give yourself an extra 2 points.) I just look at pictures of myself as a baby and hope that through it all that little guy's life goes as he wanted it to. We both agree where we want it go but I think I'm starting to change the course, not on purpose, but to my chagrin, consciously. There is no one to blame but myself. Just because you can doesn't mean you should.
So there it is. Truth. I'm sorry but I don't know that I can forgive myself. No excuses. Oh and I'm afraid of snakes.

Connections

I sit here and watch the snow fall from the heavens and magnify the beauty of the world around me. The wind slowly picks up and the slow and calm falling snow starts thrashing violently as it hits the ground. It is the first snow of the year. As I walk around in the snow the howling wind stops me in my tracks. I can feel every bone in my body and am paralyzed by the harsh winter wind. Jack Frost does me so wrong. But I quickly break from my temporary spell of immobility and press on. The thermometer may say 18 but it feels like 3. Just as weather.com. I fly away from this NorEast wintry December in 7 days flat. I return to the place where winter and summer vary by 20 degrees. But first there are those final exams. Way too much stress for such a little thing. Of course you do bad on the final and the previous 15 weeks of hard work are all for not. So the books get cracked open once more, the glowing laptop stays on until the wee small hours of the morning, and after all is said and done a single letter shows a future employer my value. I don't buy it and wouldn't sell it either. We are more than letters on a page or numbers calculated by a test. What I do on one day for a few hours shouldn't define who I am. But it does. At least in your eyes. But one day I'll open your eyes and show you that we are all gifted. Some of us excel with books in front of our noses, while others of us fill pages in books with what we do in our life. Oh here comes another freezing wind. Time to get inside.

Burn that Yule Log

December in your face. Being home, over in the blink of an eye. Time spent with great friends. It always seems like the ones who mean the most find the time, or so I've noticed. Down with strep. Bad news bears. Sitting in snowless boston. Maybe no snow until I'm gone again. That sounds too good. Home before long. Mind stays in the East until it is on the West. Time flies. We fly with it. Before you know it we'll all be reunited again. Now where the hell am I going to put this Air Conditioner?

In the Middle

Right now things are pretty stressful. No big thing. Stress is commonplace on the college campuses around the world and in everyday life. The good news is that exactly a 7 days from this very second I will be entering into California airspace as I'm jetted into the Bay. So yeah, I can dig a little stress right now. I think professors sneak things up right before breaks on purpose. People are already jazzed up enough about the prospect of break, why not throw something to divert focus? It certain respects it isn't that big of a deal. Often times it helps. One thing I don't understand is how everybody freaks out about how long until they go home. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited as much as anybody else to be home. But it will take the same amount of time to get to next week as it did from last Tuesday to right now. It will get here. But until then I gotta get my study and act on. Still it will be pretty pretty when everybody is back home living it big. Until then we gotta work. Can't stop, won't stop.

Goodnight Moon

Last night/this morning I did something I havent done in quite some time. I went for a walk at midnight. I didn't have a destination in mind nor any real purpose. Simply, I just wanted to be outside on a beautiful evening with my thoughts. Nothing big that requires full attention is going on. Rather, I just wanted to walk around and think. We all need time to step outside of ourselves and observe. We need to commend ourselves for doing things well and understand how we could do things better moving forward. If you take some time to just look at yourself and your accomplishments you just might find that you are an extraordinary person who can take on anything life might throw your way.

President Obama and other November goodness

I don't need to tell you that Tuesday evening saw history being made. What a historic day it was indeed not only for Mr. Obama, the African-American community, but rather, Americans as a whole. It is my great hope that this nation can cease to be a nation divided but rather truly embody the words, the United States of America. That is all I have to say about that.

John McCain's cession speech was moving in my opinion. While I disagree with his politics and the choice he made in a running mate I still hold the highest respect for him. Here is a man who at 18 made the conscious choice to give his adult life in service of his country. He was tested again and again in Vietnam but held true to his values and morals. John McCain could have taken the easy way in life and just retired to enjoy "the good life." I only hope that people can get past the John McCain as either a Republican or ex- presidential candidate but instead see him as a true American Hero who has given his life to this country.

Enough political mumbo jumbo.

The rains have come to Boston. Life is about to get busy. No problem with that. Still, I worry that I need to stop and smell the roses. I need to get out more and not have a destination but just go somewhere. There are stones to be unturned and stories to be heard.

Tommy is playing Ultimate with the Wisconsin team- I hear the USAF was already getting reports of a UFO in the Atlanta airspace (they're playing in a tournament down there.) I wish him the best of luck and hope things turn out well.

Finding housing is harder than I thought. Reading leases is rough business and a lot of them aren't worded well, at least from a student's point of view. I'm just fortunate that my dad specializes in reading leases. Still the hunt continues for the Boston Dream House. A dream that like the one written by Langston Hughes, might be a dream deferred...deferred perhaps to Berkeley. I'll say no more. Just that it is a long shot but if you don't put your cards on the table then what are you doing at the table?

112 days to Italy.