Who Needs Tanglewood?

While I generally prefer Manheim Steamroller to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, I have to admit that this is pretty cool.
The guy who designs the lighting effects for the TSO has had some fun with his house this year, and it's become so popular that some beer company has even put it in a commercial. Click here, make sure your sound is turned on, and enjoy...

JT's Post

JT Turner is hanging out with me right now (oh, is that what you kids call it these days?) and I thought I'd let him share whatever's on his mind. So here he is, ladies and gentlemen, JT Turner:


so do we create our own realities or are they aready laid out for us?

There you have it. JT's the man

Well Done

I just wanted to take a moment to give a shout out to Crystal's sister, Courtney. Courtney had a swim meet against Central Middle School today and, by all accounts, left the competition eating her bubbles. She lost to a girl who swims year-round by a mere two one-hundreths of a second.
Now, as all of you know, I am like lightning in the pool. But I have to admit, even I was impressed with Courtney's performence-not just that she went so quickly, but that she did the butterfly at all. I can't swim the butterfly to save my life.
Well done, Courtney. Keep up the good work.

...

I don't chat very often, but I AIM occasionally. Punctuation is an art form with instant messaging because sentences, as previous generations knew them, do not exist in cyberspace. Rather, the timing and puncuation of individual phrases is used to express emotion and intonation. And there's no better example of this than the greatest of all vague markings, ...
I love the dot dot dot. It's my generation's yadda yadda yadda, though I would never be as blasphemous to equate a single dot with a single yadda. The key to using ... succesfully is varying its meaning. Eric Owens is excellent at this, though I hate to complement him for anything. In a recent conversation with Mr Owens, he led me to believe a few outrageous things simply by employing the .... He never lied, he just left out a few important phrases and such via the ..., and it was extremely effective. I'm impressed.
... means everything and it means nothing. It can be used by itself to express boredom, expectancy, even incredulity. At the end of phrases, ... replaces the need for euphemism to express unsavory thoughts. It's the ultimate multi-tasker.

A Note From Math Rob

I got a Christmas card in the mail today from Ann Arbor, Michigan. Mom had no idea who would send me such a thing, but I knew instantly.
Math Rob was my Area III teacher at GSE this summer. His real name is Rob Houck, but everyone calls him Math Rob because math is what he does; he told us he considers it a great compliment to have math associated with one's name. I met some interesting folks that summer, but he was by far the most peculiar individual I've ever come across. He's shy, insecure beyond imagination, goofy, corny, and uncertain about what to do with his life. He's also really, really cool if you get to know him.
Rob keeps a journal in which he writes whatever is on his mind on any given day. At the end of GSE, he left the journal where his students could find it for a week or so. We all found the journal and left little notes for him in it. I can't remember for the life of me what I said, but I do remember that I wrote it with a purple pen.
So I got a card from Rob today, and I've been smiling ever since. He wrote inside the card that he had read my message, enjoyed it, and mentioned that he is now one dissertation away from a PhD. This is a big deal because, when we left GSE, he wasn't sure whether or not he was going to continue his education. His brother died in Iraq last year, his parents want him to go into the Ministry, and Rob is not good at standing up for what he wants. I still remember the day in class when he mentioned that it was the anniversary of his brother's death and that he wasn't sure if he would be back next year. Apparantly he put his foot down; I'm really proud.
The world needs more people like Math Rob. Sure he's goofy, sure he's a little (well, maybe a lot) weird, but you know from meeting him that he cares about you. People like Rob need our prayers and our support. If you have your own Math Rob, write him/her and tell them that you remember them. It will mean more than you know.
So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go write a letter to Michigan.

An Unusual Email

Now I've gotten a lot of strange stuff from colleges over the past year or so. I've gotten magnets, personal notes, even offers from Liberty University saying, "Open this letter, there's up to $400 in coupons inside!." But I must say, I never saw this recent one coming.
Carolina sent me a happy holidays card. The text reads
Dear Ryan,
Seasons greetings from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill! We know that this is a very busy time for you as you complete your challenging senior year. We hope that you will take time during the holiday season to take a deep breath . . . . and relax.
We hope that you enjoy these winter scenes from Carolina, and we wish you every happiness this holiday season and throughout the coming year.
The email came with two pictures of Carolina in the snow. I've tried, but I can't load them onto the page right now, I'll put em up later.
I don't know why this thing struck me as so strange, but I'm pretty sure that it's a bad sign of my mental condition. I've begun to look at colleges and such as my adversaries; they are opponents who I must outwit and conquer. Maybe that's why it felt so strange getting what amounts to a Christmas card from them. I don't know...it's just kinda nice. If only it had been Wake or Davidson....

The Weatherman Who Cried Snow

Alright people, I'm tired of this nonsense. We do not get substantial snowfall in Mount Airy in December. Period. Especially when it's fifty degrees outside. Especially when it was seventy degrees a week ago. It's just not happening people; get over it.
This happens every year. I'm puttering along, pacing myself through the last week or so of school, when suddenly someone decides it's time for snow. They get my hopes up. I tell myself, "Don't be fooled, you've been burned like this before." But it's no use. Once I hear even one person use the word "snow" I immediately go out of work mode and into snowday mode. But the snowday doesn't come. I become depressed; school becomes an unbelieveable chore even though ten minutes earlier I hadn't minded the thought of going at all.
Everyone is pissy on would-be snowdays. People go out of their minds.; Starr swore she heard sleet all through first period today. And since when is everyone a meteorologist? "The front's comin through." Do you really know that, or are you just repeating what your friend told you five minutes ago? People here have memories similar to that of a goldfish. Do they not remember last year? Or the year before? Or every year? We are below the Mason-Dixon line here. "At least six inches by nightfall!" Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Fortunately, school administrators combine a provincial lack of memory to a complete lack of spine. They let us out of school at 2:00 today because, of course, very soon the demons of winter were to be upon us. Didn't pan out, but I had quite a nap. And that's always a good thing.
So maybe there is some value in all of this hoopla. Weathermen are the devil, the meteorological laity are just plain annoying, but anytime I get a free nap we're all going to be ok.