I named my car of 4 years the week before I set out to get M and E. "Bergeron." Anyway, I set off to get M and E, and we were returning the night of Oct. 26th, so that we could make the best time as E slept. 

Did you know that Michigan measures its deer population by the number of deer-automobile related collisions are reported? Yeah, well, there's one less now.

Traffic cleared out around 8 PM, and we continued driving through Northern Michigan well into midnight. I remember, we traded RvB quotes for a good portion of the time to keep ourselves awake and alert. We fell into a short silence as we both watched for the tell-tale nocturnal eyes of deer...

Abruptly, what was highway before us was immediately filled with a hazy image of a deer. The silence of the car was shattered by screaming in the millisecond that followed... M or I... I can't tell. The next thing I knew, my face was numb and I could see the guttering flame of the deployed airbag in front of me, and only darkness beyond that. The car was smoky, and I was having trouble talking. E was silent and M was dazed.

The headlights were gone out of the car, the $70 (per bulb) silverstar bulbs lost. I felt nothing of the collision itself. I was having trouble talking. I kept saying "M...? Yoo hokay? Go wight. Go wiiight." I took the wheel to help steer the car to the shoulder. M complained of it being smokey and hard to see, so she rolled down her window. It cleared.

Eventually, we got off the highway. M got out to check on E, who was laying quietly in the back, apparently sleeping. She woke up on her own a few minutes later, crying. I called 911.

A night I'd care to not remember...

Long story short, the Grand Am, Bergeron, is gone, and I'm getting an '08 Chevrolet Impala. If I decide to name it, I'll go with something like... General Patton.

We were thinking about getting M a car as well... turns out, she's getting a Cobalt. She <3's it.

This weekend... cars. woo!

Looking back, I have 21 publishable poems. All but one of them is light and humorous.

Meh. I like them anyway.

Of course, others may not agree that they are publishable. But meh. I think they are.

I am disturbed.

I am disturbed because somehow race has become not only an issue in politics, but because it has apparently become the issue.

I, like others around the world, watched the electoral college counters rise as votes were tallied, and when Mr. Obama tumbled over the magical 270, the speeches started going. For an hour, all I heard was about race.

I understand that the election of a "black" president has significant implications for the "black" community. It is a milestone in our country's history and progress, this is all true. What disturbs me is that in all of this time, I heard nothing of the President-Elect's policies... and only about his race.

Anyone that's glanced at my journal for two and a half seconds could tell you that I update very seldom. That means that unless something big happens, you tend not to hear from me for a while.

Well... a lot's happened. So, woot woot rant alert! rant alert! Expect a couple posts from me today.


Sorry in advance for spamming.

And if you don't like spam... tough.

This is a list of things that I'm going to do whenever I'm given the opportunity.

I hate those "Hello, I am ____" disposable name tags that you are forced to occasionally wear. The next one I'm forced to wear will instead bear "Hello, I am Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

The next (and coincidentally, first) time I get the urge to write on the bathroom wall, I won't write obscenities. Instead, I'll do this.

Ugh. I can't watch any more "Man vs. Wild."

Bear Grylls always rubbed me the wrong way. But when I see him advertising drinking one's own urine in order to stay hydrated... I know that he really hasn't got a clue. He's a reckless menace.

Urine is about 98% water, and the other 2% are toxins that one's body is trying to excrete. Incidentally, those toxins are good as a cleaning agent. You want to drink that? It's bad for a similar reason that drinking salt water is bad. It's poison. Coincidentally, when in a survival situation where one is having issues staying hydrated, they are probably sweating. If they're sweating, they probably aren't producing much urine.

Bear is going to get someone killed. I hope no one actually depends on him for reliable survival techniques. Because they'll probably end up dead.

Unreliable information when one needs reliable information most irritates me. Discovery needs to post a friggin' disclaimer at least. Since most people aren't put in survival situations every day, they may not know when they shouldn't do something. What Bear Grylls says may weigh more heavily on a person's mind than their own common sense.

I can't blame anyone else that has been in survival situations for being irritated with him. He taints our honor and cheapens the challenge that nature represents.

Feh. I digress.

Command: /rant
:: Initiating Secure Log-Off -- Please Wait... ... ...
Command: Log Off already. I have other stuff to do.
:: Attempting to give a shit...
:: ... ... ...
:: Process timed-out. Shit not given.

I found this neat RADAR image on NOAA's website and thought I'd share it with you. It's pretty self-explanatory.



Yes. Those are bats. Detected on RADAR.

A Gust Front was also detected. This is basically a boundary between air masses. One can tell when it passes, because it is commonly associated with momentarily stronger winds, a shift in wind direction, and often a lowering of temperature. The fact that this phenomenon can be picked up on RADAR is also pretty cool... mainly because of the objects picked up/carried by the wind itself.

Most interesting is the Hook echo. This is a severe weather phenomenon that strongly suggests the possible presence of a mesocyclone (a rotating inflow of air that can possibly become a tornado.) Of course, tornadoes occur without the presence of mesocyclones, and don't always detect them. But this provides a strong hint that one exists. Coincidentally, the presence of a mesocyclone is a key characteristic of supercells.

I shouldn't be amused. I'm certain that the bats weren't.

But I am anyway. Screw the bats.

Yes, I'm a twisted mother[bleep].

"River water and well water don't mix." - Chinese Proverb

The Olympic torch relay has become a stage for protests and rowdy displays oft saved for the drunken aftermath of sports games.

This is what troubles me.

China isn't exactly known for its (edit: good) human rights record. If we've seen this kind of protests on the 2 (and certainly, the San Francisco stop will be like to follow London and Paris) stops thus far, can we expect more of the same in the 70-something stops to be made on the torch's tour in China?

I hope not. Because when a big, bad country cracks down on people in a harsh way - especially when those people are citizens of other countries - it makes for bad politics, and makes those countries unhappy.

Unhappy countries can do unhappy things.

Honestly, I believe in the Olympic spirit... And I don't think politics should taint it. But when it does, if war (not so far-fetched as it sounds) threatens, well. The Olympic spirit and the human-rights crackdown that is often associated with China, and even war, are incompatible.

I'm just waiting for Jesse Owens to show up and defeat the Master Race. I'm not sure how that is going to happen.

Anyway.

I digress.

I've decided that I'm going to keep my story in the past tense. I find it easier to work with for these reasons, which I'm recording mainly for my own gratification.

- Ease of use. I naturally write better in this tense. If I'm not careful, I revert to it without realizing it.
- Style. I find I can describe things smoother and with more accuracy using past-tense.
- Un-hokeyness. Whenever I try to use present tense, it sounds hokey. "He does this and this, while doing this... all of which bores the reader and insults the quality of my writing."

Con:
- Lack of action. The story tends to lack movement and punch using past-tense. This can be off-set by using a lot of action, which can drain meaning from drama that is essential to capture your plot.

Guess I'll have to find a balance. I can't stomach present tense with my writing style... it plain sucks.

I've also decided to incorporate my newest story idea into an older story and give it some life.
It figures that I get these great ideas when it's not NanoWriMo. Oh well. Like everything else in my life, I write in my own time. Which is to say, it takes me three times as long as a normal person, and probably will contain a great deal of mistakes.

Word of the day: Transmogrify. (It's funny how the in-browser spell-checker doesn't go off at Transmogrify. The programmers must know their Calvin and Hobbes.)

Yeah... these times are going to be a little tough.

I require a steady, good-paying, minimal time-consumption job. The ideal job, really. One that pays me well for not working.

The Calculus exam that I thought I aced? Not so much.

I have a Physics exam Wednesday. I'm preparing for that now. I forgot to turn in the homework. It was due this morning, and it slipped through the cracks. It's so time consuming, I would've had to work on it all week and then some anyway, and would've had no time for virtually anything else.

I'm going to have to find an internship this summer... and on top of that, take/pass Physics II.

In the midst of all of this, I somehow have to manage taking care of my family. Somehow. From 700 miles away.

But I have a story idea! ...and no time to explore it, really. That's kinda like winning the lottery and having a heart attack at the shock.

In other news, I really, really like this theme.

Once again, I've hesitated to post major news updates. I've waited on this one, again, not because I didn't want to share, but because the cause for this post has consumed aaaaalmost all of my waking moments.

That's right. But you'll have to bear with me for the story. (Don't worry, I'll spare you most of the gory details).

I received an earlier-than-usual wake up call (circa: 3:30 AM) Sunday, March 9th. 12 hours, two flights, and a tense, hour-long layover later, I landed in Ontario. 15 minutes after a nail-biting landing with a rudder-happy pilot of a 27 person turbo-prop tub-with-wings, I arrived at a certain hospital. Three wrong turns, and two nursing stations later, I was directed to a certain room.

I entered the room, lugging an over-sized bag stuffed with a week's worth of clothes, and hastily packed school supplies, to find that my entire existence had instantly, irrevocably, and dramatically changed.

My fiance lay on a bed, smiling broadly. As I entered the room, a blanket-wrapped parcel was thrust into my arms. This is how the subject of this post was presented to me.

At 3:25 pm (Eastern Standard), March 9th, 2008, our daughter, Evelyn, was born. She was 6 lbs and 14 ounces of beautiful.

I should have entitled this post "And the Two Become Three." Much more appropriate. But I didn't want to ruin the surprise for you...

I'd also like to extend my thanks to our friends and family that have supported us during this time. And yes, if you want more baby pictures, I've got plenty. So just ask.



*Is a daddy.*

Someone once said that God is not without a sense of both epic humor and irony. I find it not humorous, but certainly ironic that a famous Rabbi, whom is the subject of this link, could make much use out of only a singular phrase of Jesus. Perhaps, the quintessential phrase, the one thing I think most of when I think of Jesus.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."
-Jesus Christ; John 15:13.

Please read the article for yourself and draw your own conclusions. Essentially, however, the article talks about how a famous Rabbi believes that soldiers fall in battle due to lack of faith, lack of devout dedication to the pillars of his or her faith. To that end, I would like to introduce a myth, which is almost as controversial as this Rabbi's sermon.

"There are no Atheists in foxholes."

Before I become too steeped in controversy, let me add a small disclaimer. I am not saying there is anything wrong with atheism, or even that this axiom is true - many atheists, and many others also, would say that this myth is only that - a myth. However, they would agree with me in this next statement, which happens to be my point. What these soldiers face, what any soldier faces in a combat zone, is a terrible thing. It is a galvanizing crucible. It may shake a man's faith, and who could blame a man for it. It may also strengthen his faith. I have found that in the times when I have had to face death, and my experiences pale in comparison to what these gallant men and women face daily, I have come to know God a little closer.

Here is my question to this Rabbi, my challenge. How dare you question any man's creed, you who has not stood in his shoes? You, who have not seen your brother and friend fall beside you, you who have not had to pick up your rifle and continue on? You, whom the world has not turned its back on, you whom the world does not scorn, because of your honor and duty? How dare you question any man's faith, when faith is all he has? It offends me utterly.

In closure, let me present my last quote.

"Judge not, that ye be not judged."
-Jesus Christ; Mathew 7:1.

I just returned from a weekend (sorta) camping trip to Banff National Park in Canada. It was really beautiful. We camped two nights with a new tent, with a long hike (approximately 10-11 miles/12-13 km round trip, 2100 foot/640 m gain in altitude.) in between.

The nights were relatively peaceful, and the hike was grueling, but pretty. I've got some great pictures, which I'll eventually upload and share.

Dan, you'd be proud of me for the campfire I did on the first night. I did both the cabin style and the tee-pee style of campfires, cabin on the inside, teepee on the outside. It was artful. Only used about a page of newspaper to get it going, and only needed one match (but used two in order to light in two places). It was a text book fire. I wanted to use gasoline, a butane torch, and a phone book of paper. . . but I didn't have to, which is both disappointing and \o/.

The hike was killer. I didn't bring bug-spray... I haven't counted yet, but I have approximately 30 mosquito bites on my left arm alone. Despite the massive quantity of bites, I'm certain that I killed upwards of 300 of them. In Halo terms: Ownd.

Anyway. I'll be around more frequently now, so if those of you that know my number want to talk, give me a call. I'll call you back somehow.

K, I GO CANADA NOW, BRB LOL

I feel loved when...

The Five Love Languages

My Primary Love Language is Physical Touch

Physical Touch:	10
Quality Time:	7
Words of Affirmation:	7
Receiving Gifts:	3
Acts of Service:	3

About this quiz

Unhappiness in relationships is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. It can be helpful to know what language you speak and what language those around you speak.

Tag 3 people so they can find out what their love language is.

Take the Quiz!
Check out the Book

While I haven't been tagged, I have been prodded.

Anyway. I'm somewhere between the choices of this quiz. ...so it isn't entirely accurate. Fair warning.

I can't sleep. I can't feel...anything. I feel no emotion. I find it ironic that I last wrote about faith. I once thought my faith unshakable. I don't know if I still hold that belief. There's a lot I don't know right now.

M has left for Canada again. I miss her. Every time that I'm forced to say "good-bye," it tears me up inside. Can't do this for much longer.

Annie had to be put to sleep tonight... four hours ago, or so. Heh. I couldn't even be there for her. It's hard for me to believe she's gone. I still remember so much of her.

When we first brought her home (from what we would later find out was a puppy-mill), I held her in my arms in the car the entire way. I sat in the back with her, shielding her from the bumps of the gravel road, the sudden onslaughts of gravity as the SUV made sharp turns. I remember how, of all the puppies, only she used the paper when we were picking her out. I remember how much trouble we had potty-training her. I remember how, her first night, she missed her mother so much that I spent the night with her on the kitchen floor. I remember that it was a school night, and she thought so much of me that she left a yellow puddle for thanks. I remember her short little puppy-naps, followed by minutes of hyperactivity. I remember her cute whines, her yips and growls, her playful nature. Much later, I remember how she could practically read your mind when you were thinking about treats, walking her, taking her to the vet, or a bath. I remember her tolerance with puppies. I recall when she got out of the yard, and went missing for several days; the terrible storm that swept through, and how she showed up desperately wanting back in. I remember the shape she was in, how happy she was to be home. From that day forward, she couldn't stand storms. She would never go outside unless you went with her. I remember how she always slept in the hallway, beneath the night light, sprawled on the carpet. How she ate her last meal just to make me feel better. Less guilty. I remember how I knew she was hurting, but passed it off as a strained muscle... never thinking that it could be anything more serious. I remember how I said goodbye, thinking that it would be for a month or two at most... never thinking it would be for a life-time. I remember how I left sooner than I had to for college, instead of spending a few meager hours more with my family. Her last, and most important, and I would miss it for selfish, unimportant reasons.

I can't sleep. Too busy remembering how I've failed her when she needed me most.

I suppose I've lied. I feel something after typing all of that. My heart's broken.

I miss her so much.

This is, perhaps, the quintessential question of faith. The crossroads of belief. Just as Galileo Galilei stared at the stars in wonder, so do we stare in to ourselves. Why are we here? What is our purpose? The meaning of life, like all philosophical concepts, varies from one person to another. How can one answer this question for another, when answering it for oneself alone is the challange... and perhaps even the very meaning of our existence is to ponder this question.

For me, existence is to come to know God, on my own terms. To prove my love to Him, and to come to know what He has created for me. Like all things, perhaps we do not know what it is to have something, until we do without it for a while. To properly appreciate what sweet God is to us, we must first demonstrate our worthiness... not to God, but rather, to our own hearts. And more, God does not leave us in this existence to merely ponder our way through to His will. He says that He will always be there to help us when we ask it of him. Rather than leave us alone, to know the value of a thing lost, He remains only out of sight - but in our hearts. What value has a gift not earned, to those it was given?

Often, you hear the spoiled children - or people talking about spoiled children - complaining because they want something, and know not the value of what they ask. Would we be spoiled children, were we simply given unto Heaven? That's a thought, isn't it?

And when we do lose our way, why is it then, that God would give his only son that we might, through only a little love, reclaim our place with him? I believe that our purpose in life is to get to know God on our terms, so that we are ready to greet Him on His - and one day, we all must do that.

Where to start.

Suitemates that assume, since you spend a great deal of time on the computer/in your room, that they must make it their active quest in life to try and sever that connection "for your own good." I think I'd like to stick steak knives in their eyes, as they apparently lack the redeeming quality of 'eye-sight.'

Also drunk suite-mates on a dry campus doing the above, and hiding alcohol in their rooms knowing full well that because of campus policy, the rest of us could be expelled along with their stupid asses. Yet are drinking, loud, and obnoxious. Makes me want to play with H2SO4.

Suite mates that can't keep their portion of a bathroom anything like clean... I've take out the bathroom trash multiple times (no one else has done so once). In fact, I actually removed the trash can since it was mine anyway. While there are no paper towels crumpled up and thrown on the ground (probably having more to do with the fact that we're out of them, rather than there's no receptical), there's other trash everywhere. There's constantly water all over the sink, the mortar between the bathroom tiles is turning brown... there's hair gel canisters, shaving cream cans, and other personal hiegien items flung haphazardly across the counter. This annoys me since I keep only two items in there: My toothbrush and associated charger, and a bottle of advil. The advil is tucked away in a medicine chest. The toothbrush/charger is plugged in, and sitting neatly in the corner of the counter. The rest of the place? Might as well be Saint Louis in the flood of '93. (To prevent a rant in the future, I don't want to hear anyone bitching about that disaster, and my casual reference to it. I was in it. So to be pre-emptive, STFU - I don't want to hear it. And I will take sadistic pleasure in deleting any comments that do so. Yes, I'm an asshole. Yes, you'll eventually get over it. I promise.) It makes me want to play with nair. I imagine that, while a person has no hairs in their gums, a toothbrush full of the stuff wouldn't taste very good.

People that find it amusing to lift the cover off of the fire alarm at 1 AM. I sleep next to a stairwell. I constantly hear "badudumpum--{ROAR!}" of people coming down/going up the stairs (another annoyance!). A fire alarm blaring through my wall while I'm trying to sleep does not amuse me. Because then, I have to get my ass out of bed, dress, and go find the person that's "On Call" at that ungodly hour to fix it. I'm starting to wonder if any of these people are actually adults, or if I finally went bat-shit fucking loco and am serving a term in the loony bin instead of a University. High-school Middle-school pranks should have ended in middle-school. There was a point when pulling the fire alarm was a stupid thing to do... MOST kids have reached that stage in elementary school.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not an angsty goth-kid (again, I don't want to hear it! Post not.), nor am I a stick in the mud. It's probably that I still retain some sense of common decency, courtesy, sense, and yes, even fun. Oh, and bitterness, grudges from my childhood, and a healthy dislike for annoyances (bet you've gathered that by now). And its not the lack of privacy either... Its the complete lack of peace and quiet. Seriously. Its a foreign concept to these people. Its like "Salvation" to the damned.


I forgot where exactly I was going with this but the point is: I. hate. sourkrout*!

*To prove that I have a sense of humor.**

**Yes, it's a Weird Al reference. No, I don't care if I posted it without the proper quotation. Yes, if you leave a comment bitching about it, I'll delete it.

Adendum to note: General comments are okay, I look forward to reading them. What I do not look forward to reading is someone bitching about things that I've mentioned.

Without further ado, I'm going to go bash my head against a wall/do some calculus. Its interchangeable, you know. The end result is the same : brain death.

Right. So I'm finally moved into my dorm... Everything runs fine (save TV. I'll save that rant for later...), and its a brand new building. The three suite-mates that I have are considerate enough, but there's a few issues floating around. I provided a trash can in the bathroom, but since no one wants to empty it... I took it back. It doesn't help that when a roommate stayed out drinking, came home, and got sick all over the bathroom... yours truely got to clean it up. He owes me.

In other news, its quite a bachelor pad. ^_^ And with a view. Which is both good and bad... I get a lot of balls (football, softball, golfball) hitting my windows. However, as soon as my window gets broken, I figure someone is going to get hurt. It may be me, but I probably won't be the only one.

Enough of that for now. Sometime next year, I'm sure I'll have time to update more.

...it wouldn't be funny if it wasn't true...