Okay, I know I haven’t posted in a while but that’s partially because nobody ever visits but that’s partially because I never post anymore. So let’s work on that, okok? Good. Give this a gander:

Early this morning, a female student jogging on campus was approached by a suspicious male, and she ran away. Police were contacted, and are looking for the individual in question. He was driving a dark blue, late ’90s model Ford or Chevrolet pick-up truck with a camper shell.

If you see a truck matching this description, please call Campus Safety at 423.—.—-.

If you feel under threat at any time, call 911 immediately. (If able, please also call 423.—.—-.)

Here are some safety suggestions:
1. When headed away from a populated area of campus, ask a friend to accompany you.
2. Campus Safety is available for after dark or early morning escort to your destination.
3. Tell a friend when you leave, where you are going, and when you will return.
4. Program emergency numbers (see above) into your cell phone and carry it with you.
5. Contact Campus Safety for all suspicious activities or persons noticed.

Okay, I take umbrage at this. If I were slightly older or whatever, I would be threatening. I know guys who already are. I know guys who, with just a leer could be taken for a stalker/rapist. At what point do we say that someone is threatening/suspicious? Why do we give the judgement of this matter to vapid girls who are struggling through college on their daddy’s money? Seriously. How bad does it look to your wife when the police pull up and ask “Is there a man here who owns that truck?” What runs through her mind?

“I know Gary went out to walk the dog this morning. Did he hit somebody? Did he hurt someone? Did he not clean up after Freckles? Are we going to have to pay anything?”

Especially if they tell her what’s going on.

“Gary would never do anything like that. He’s a good man. But . . .” and suddenly the fact that Gary lost hold of the leash and was looking in the bushes for the dog and an entire marriage has taken a sour turn for the worse.

I’m not saying that girls shouldn’t be wary of being attacked or worse. I’m saying they should, sure, but I’m just saying to be careful and use the power of accusation carefully. Don’t just say “THERE WAS A GUY IN THE STAIRWELL AND HE LOOKED AT ME SIDEWAYS DON’T RAPE ME OH LORD PROTECT ME.”

Also, I’m not saying that it’s very common, but just like girls are afraid of being raped, I’m afraid of being accused of rape. Do you know how completely that would screw over my career? 3 years of college down the drain and now I have to look for work as a . . . I don’t even know. Ronald McDonald impersonator or something.

Anyway, this is the first that this blog would ALLOW me to post all sumer (for some weird reason) and so I think I should let you know that I am back at collegedale, things are looking up, and I’m sitting on a couch in Curtis’ apartment, listening to the sound of the neurons in my brain firing. You would THINK that since my reaction timing is crap that my neurons are just slower. IF that were the case, they would have a pleasant baritone whine, but instead they have a whine to make dogs go mad and windows break. I really hate my neurons. JUST SLOW DOWN! YOU HAVE NOTHING IMPORTANT TO THINK ABOUT!

But they don’t listen to me.

ALSO I found out today that no matter how many times you go over the things you’ve packed, you’ll always forget things. I don’t think I’ve forgotten many things, but I forgot my sleeping bag (maybe? or can I just not find it) and my pillows (definitely). And these things weren’t just like “OH I forgot this!” and I realize a week later. NO I realize because the first night I’m here I need a sleeping bag and pillows. Life is not fair.

I also found out that it’s infuriating to have non-sabbathy music stuck in your head on sabbath. Thanks, the Strokes. I really appreciate it.

So I haven’t posted in forever because all my free time has been bought by gaming, videos, and video gaming. I’m trying to pack in as much STUFF as I can before I go to camp for the other STUFF. Like when I eat, I’m only consuming one thing at a time. It’s workin’ out for me, I think. Basically, my life is equally as hectic as when I was in finals, but now it’s hectic with fun things and things I enjoy and also some productivity on the side. Which reminds me, I need to finish powerwashing/mowing today. Allow me to get on that, right after I profess MY DEEP DESIRE TO OWN STARCRAFT 2 IT IS A WIN.

This was pretty short. I have a photoblog incoming, as soon as I install the printer and scan all of my photos. Tee hee and whatnot.

SOO MUCH TO DO

Hang with me now, this one was weird.

Usually, I have dreams where the geography is weird. Either it’s unpractical, or it’s a place I know, but my head has changed great portions of it. Well, I was at my grade school, and the geography was exquisite. Nothing was out of place. The creek was even proportional, though there were people getting washed away in it. So, what I remember of the dream was that Autumn (a girl with whom I went to high school [interesting fact, I always want to capitalize high school. When I don't do that, I either conjoin it or hyphenate it]) and the nice guy from American Pie (which I watched pieces of on the telly, so I can’t tell you which are the naughty bits, sorry) were getting married. To condense that sentence, Autumn and the nice guy from American pie were getting married. Sorry. I love ellipticals. CARRY ON. My uncle John was performing the ceremony for God knows what reason, because I’m not sure he’s ever A: been to Missouri, or B: been in one of my dreams. BUT I just saw him, so it makes sense that he is my dreampreacher of choice.

They were getting married and the creek, without picking up, began to drown everyone but the guy from American Pie (because in my dream he was apparently expandable, and was able to keep his head above water when his bride and the preacher were drowning.) Someone was concerned, but I waived them off, because Stephanie was there, and she had a lifeguarding licence.

The Nazis showed up (I couldn’t actually see them, but it’s not like I was looking at them) and ordered us all back to our side of the creek (because we were trying to escape by standing in the middle and marrying ourselves? It made more sense in the dream.) Then I became a little girl (Candace Tyler, actually) and lost my neck transponder and saw some of the stupidest escape attempts I have ever seen in my life (such as a swing off of a kite? I don’t know). I wanted to bury my neck transponder, but since Moberly is the only place in my entire dream world with accurate geography, the soybean field was gone, so I had to do fancy magical things to bury it. This is about the time when I saw a naruto headband and said to myself “OH I shall take this to Philip. He will enjoy it immensely!” And went back to my dream. I didn’t quite realize the stupidity of that (Philip wasn’t in my dream. He’s rarely in my dreams), so I went blithely on, until I said to myself, and I quote, “I should check real-world time!” and I found out that I was 5 hours late to Haluska’s class from the last dream.

META DREAM

I had a dream, in which I knew I was dreaming, but my reality had reset to be THE CLASS FROM THE LAST DREAM (which I was also late to, so double whammy.)

I haven’t blogged in a week. Sorry. My life has been a languid pile of poop since I finished my paper/portfolio projects (on the same day, no less no less) and so I haven’t been motivated for much. Let me catch you up, in no particular order.

Strawberry Fest: Had Gordon Bietz. He walked on stage, and the applause ONLY GREW until THERE WAS A STANDING OVATION. Because he WALKED ON STAGE. I love our president. We were sitting behind him at the program, and I’m super pleased to announce that he didn’t even plug his ears for the really loud songs (Regina and I totally plugged our ears, thankyouverymuch). He was wearing a tux. OH and there were pictures and stuff? You know, Strawberry Fest.
At one point, some dudes got up and played the first chords to “With a Little Help From my Friends.” I thought no, it couldn’t be. I am pleased to announce that it was! The Beatles = win! However, the song stopped prematurely and I thought what’s happening now? Did they forget/truncate the song? And then, the unspeakable happened. A wail of a guitar pealed out and the singer screamed “DO YOU NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED ANYBODY?” More guitar “I NEEEEEEEEEEEEED SOMEONE TO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVEEEEEEE” and I realized that they were playing the gay Across the Universe remix version. Travesty.

Renaissance Faire: I went with Kayla Rouse. We saw some people who are way too good at acrobatics. Their act hasn’t changed at all since last year. It’s still funny.
“We have to deal with the most horrible, terrible thing at the Renaissance Faire!” (both men together, pointing at the female member of the troupe) “SMALL’S BONY BUTT!” (She holds up a sign over her butt that says ‘raaaaar’ and she growls into the mic.)
Then we saw a joust. It was just as awesome as last year, except I got more pictures and we got to cheer for the funny/evil guy. He raspberried his tongue at the other knight and stuff. We saw lots of other weird things, ate curly fries drenched in cheese, witnessed a coronation, and avoided being a part of the Ded Bob Sho. [link is not safe for chitlins] Then, we saw Tartanic. They are Bagpipe rock. It’s super awesome. Here allow me to make a subpoint:

Tartanic: We were watching, and one of the guys’ shirts was not as closed as was decent (but it’s a Ren Faire, what are you gonna do?) and he was super sweaty (but it’s Georgia, what are you gonna do?) and he was WAY too energetic (but it’s a rock[ish] concert, what are you gonna do?). He came over with a tambourine and made super excited faces at Kayla and said “HERE PLAY THIS!” and smiled and said “COME ON, MAN! LET YOUR WOMAN PLAY! HERE, JUST SLAP IT AGAINST YOUR PALM LIKE THIS!” He shoved it into her hands, so she took it (to avoid further embarrassment, I’m sure) and started playing half-heartedly (to prevent him from coming over again, I’m sure). A drunk lady on the other side of the aisle was gesticulating wildly and making really big eye motions at me, so I pointed her out to Kayla as a potential target for the tambourine. This lady ended up on stage, wedged between the two drums, dancing like the drunken lush that she was and shaking the ample provisions of God’s blessings. Kayla turned to me after and said “I cannot thank you enough for pointing out that lady.” I guess I’m kind of a hero.

Episode 10 of things I like: I like books that are no longer current/reasonable/accepted as sound. I think that I like them because it reassures me that I don’t REALLY want to be published because LOOK at how these books have aged! I found a good example today. It is Questions Girls Have Asked, and it is summarily amazing. Some of the questions that “girls have asked” fly in the face of logic. Here are some examples: “How Can I Know When I am in Love?” and “What Can I Do to Lose Weight?” and “Is It Possible for Me to Gain Weight?” and “How Do I Avoid Body Odor?” and “How Can I Be Sure My Boy Friend Loves Me?” and “What Are the Rules for Being Popular?” and “Can I Have More Pep?” My favorite so far is probably “Must I Be Unpopular?” or “What Is Wrong With Marriage?” And my favorite answer is part of “How Does Life Begin?”

“In love’s climactic emotional expression, an automatic physical mechanism is brought into action. From the husband there enters into the wife’s body, through a receptive vaultlike passage, a deluge of fluid filled with innumerable cells, so small they can be seen only through a high-powered microscope.” [Later on . . .] “Although the more modern term is uterus, the word womb has a poetic association.”

I’ll figure out what to post next.

And yet I enjoyed myself because I was with Kayla. Yeah, I’m pretty easy to please.

MY POINT: Nicholas Sparks should be shot. With a stop-writing gun.

I’m not proud of how I reacted.

I have never thought of myself as intolerant or hateful. I guess I was wrong, ‘cuz I spazzed out on this dude. I don’t know why, specifically. Perhaps God put him in my way to open my eyes.

Here’s my view on lgbt (and you can go look that up. I may have mixed the order of the letters, but I’m sticking to it.). I don’t like the idea of them. It’s like the aliens that are cooked up by Ozymandias in Watchmen and you get bonus points for reading the book and knowing what I’m talking about. Or the buggers in Ender’s Game or the bugs in Starship Troopers. They are the Other, against whom I define myself. That sounds mean, but the very thought of finding a man sexually attractive or the thought of wanting to change my gender . . . repulses me. And I’m not happy that I’m being mean about it. I’ve met a few gay men and maybe a lesbian or two. They are among some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. (oh, and I have the worst gaydar in the whole flipping world, so it’s not like I knew it at the time.) And yet my skin crawls at the thought of homosexuality.

Here’s my belief, in concision. There is nothing wrong with people who either believe themselves to be or are homosexual. The people are fine. The act is not.

It’s the same idea as “the institution of the papacy is devil-designed but the Pope is one of the nicest guys” that Adventists seem to love. You could also phrase it as “hate the sin, love the sinner.” I don’t know if that’s sound logic, but it makes me feel better about myself. See, in this way, I can continue in my belief that homosexuality is bad and reconcile it to the fact that homosexuals aren’t bad people. Instead, I just feel bad that they’re homosexuals, like if one of my friends told me that they were an adulterer/thief/lier/envious sumbitch. It doesn’t change who they are.

And I hope that’s how people treat my myriad sins.

As my final note: if you are reading this and are homosexual, I’m sorry for all the crap you get. I’m sorry you have to hide from your friends/family/neighbors until you feel confident enough to throw them all. I’m sorry you have to struggle. I’m sorry I’m not helping the problem. I’m sorry that I can’t understand you at all.

I hope you feel better tomorrow.

So I’m trying something new with WORDPRESS.

Allow me to explain, in no particular order. That sink was so dirty I actually felt dirtier after using it. It’s supposed to be white: it’s grey/brown. The toilet had a button on top to flush. Once you flushed, the button sucked down and then pressed back up into your finger really fast. I freaked when it did it to me. The pillar is 35+ feet in Luray Caverns in Shenendoah Valley, VA. Blondo’s Great Grandpappy found the caverns, apparently. There is a song we sang in Luray caverns. I’ll link to that at the end of this PIECE wait for it. The shoes were me/a kid and we traded shoes. The face is you should practice that face. The table was set with super-modern awesome fruit breakfrast and fruhstuck in German. Who knows? Anyway, the two chocolate bunnies were Mum’s april fools rabbit rabbit to me. The bloody arm was from Sonrise and I didn’t wash it off because in 15 minutes I’d just get bloody again (why make my bed or brush my teeth either?) the banana I split and it looked funny because it was like THE BANANA KEEPS GOING BUT PART OF IT IS AIR (I refuse to explain) and the “Truck Alignment Specialist” is hilarious without explanation, okay?

www.youtube.com/watch?v=crWZUXXX6js

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crWZUXXX6js

And then her face flashed pity so strong I almost choked.

And it’s not like there’s a comprehensible reason for it. I haven’t hung out with her for a while because school placed us in different classes and work and whatever. I have absolutely no idea why she pities me. Maybe . . . no, I got nothing.

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I mean, it could be that I was misreading her face. It could have also been the condescending happy face that people make at children when the kid does something stupid and adorable. BUT it had an element of sadness around the eyes.

If you ARE that person or someone (preferably female) with some insight, go ahead and throw it at me because I’m superconfused.

Yell that in just about any situation and it makes it funnier. I passed a couple who was mackin’ on front campus and I said it. The girl looked at me funny. “Not for you, for him!” She looked slightly confused and very insulted. I kept walking. A guy in the bathroom let a horrible one rip loose. I said it and he laughed. Then he laughed nervously.

I told Curtis what I did and he laughed. He said “If the guy getting the kiss had been on the top of his game, he would have said ‘I thought it was at least ten points!’”
I said to Curtis “No, if he had been on the top of his game, he would have said “Aww, the French judge is always hard to please.”
Curtis gave me a high five and said I must be having a good night.

I was.