d'Écriture

Today Merits a Blog Post

2010-03-30T19:43:00.000-05:00

It's obviously been much too long since I last updated this, but I find myself constantly exhausted at the end of each day with never an end in sight to the list of things I need to do, BUT today was a particularly good day, and I'm on a writing role at the moment, so I decided to post an update.

In my Zoology class, we have finally moved past the boring stuff (cell theory, mitosis/meiosis, heredity, etc.) and we're actually learning the names of the different phyla of animals. Fortunately for me, this part is easy because it's all a bunch of big words that no one else has a clue about, but my love of etymology is really paying off there. Today, we learned about Mollusks, which included everything from snails to clams to squid.

After that, in my International Studies class, Dr. Guy Whitten, director of the European Union Center for Excellence, spoke to our class about the mechanics of the EU, something I was woefully uninformed about until today. I accompanied him and Dr. Greenwald to lunch at the little Asian café down the street and further discussed European politics with them.

I was feeling a bit tired from having woken up for my 8 AM class today, so I did something I don't normally do and took a 30 minute power nap before finishing some Russian homework and rewarding myself by sitting out in the beautiful sunlight and breeze simply reading for pleasure for the 45 minutes before my Russian class, something I have not done for far too long.

I've found that when I don't engage in some kind of artistic activity for too long, I just feel out of sorts and constantly anxious or guilty. I guess this is a sign to what part of my particular vocation is, but after Russian class today, I uncharacteristically put off doing my homework until later tonight-- since it has to be done anyway-- and spent an hour and a half continuing to revise another 50 pages of my manuscript. I've been receiving lessons from Holly Lisle's How to Revise Your Novel course since mid January, but despite having lesson 12 waiting for me, I am still working on painstaking lesson 2 because of the many weeks I have not touched it. As tedious as some of the process is, I was feeling particularly inspired after reading some fiction today, and I felt especially accomplished after making a huge leap of progress. If I could keep up that pace of 50 pages per day, I could finish lesson 2 within 5 more days and finally move forward, so we'll see.

Finally, I unexpectedly ran into one of my many wonderful little groups of friends from St. Mary's when I went to get dinner. When I think about where I was at this time a year ago, it's hard to believe how far I've come, sometimes, and I couldn't imagine transferring somewhere else after having met such great Catholic people my age here. I'll be sad not to see them next year when I live in France, but it has been exciting planning my year stay over there. I just recently got my classes approved, and now I need to research airfare and more about the city of Caen where I'll be living.

I'm about to head to choir practice for Holy Thursday's mass, and on Friday, hopefully I'll be able to meet with Fr. Brian McMaster for spiritual direction/vocation counsel, and then I think I will be home for the Easter weekend.

I'm feeling pretty on top of my work at the moment, it was a beautiful day, and I made some progress on the writing front. It was a good day all around! Winter is gone... spring has finally come!

God bless you as we enter this Holy Week and Easter season. :)

Здравствуйте!

2010-01-29T21:12:00.000-06:00

(zdrahvst-voo-its-yeh) Hello!

I apologise for not writing sooner or more often, but I have been overwhelmed with my new schedule. The title up there is one of the few words I now know in Russian, thanks to my Russian 101 class. On top of that, I am also taking Zoology, Texas History, French Composition, and Intro to International Studies. It doesn't look like much when you say it that way, but it's 17 intensive hours, and I've been doing my best to keep up with it all.

Fortunately, these are classes I'm interested in, so at least it isn't like beating my head against the desk like it would be if I was in a math class. Still, I can tell I've definitely got my work cut out for me, what with writing French essays while reading L'Enfant Noir by Guinean author Camara Lye, learning the Cyrillic alphabet along with entirely new pronunciations, vocabulary, and grammar for Russian, sitting through a three-hour long lab each week for Zoology in addition to the hour-and-a-half 8 AM lecture, or staying up to date on international news while compiling my massive 4-inch host country resource book for International Studies.

Speaking of being busy, I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to audition for the à capella group Hardchord Dynamix (which I saw perform last semester), but I did on Wednesday night, just to give it a shot and practice the process. The only other time I have had to audition for anything was high school choir, which was hardly intimidating. The people in the group were very nice, but sadly, I did not receive a callback for tonight. Still, it was a learning experience, and it is probably for the best that I was not accepted since I have so much to do as it is. And today, after listening to a girl who asked if she could perform her rendition of The Sister Act's "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee" to me while I was playing piano in the chapel on campus, I realize just how good some of the other people are who tried out.
I still miss singing, but unfortunately, living on a college campus affords me pretty much no privacy to practice anything, though at least I'm past being shy about playing and even learning sheet music in all its roughshod-diness on the public piano.

In other news, over the Christmas break, I began following Holly Lisle's How to Revise Your Novel course with my manuscript from National Novel Writing Month of 2006. I have been following Ms. Lisle's site and been a part of the online writing community she founded (called Forward Motion) for nearly four years now (wow, I can't believe it's been that long!), or basically since I set a serious goal of writing and publishing a book. It is excellent, but I have only done one lesson so far, and I haven't had time to push forward of late, although fortunately, I can work at my own pace and read the lessons as I get to them.

Sadly, I came all the way over to the library in the dark and the cold wind to work at a table where I could spread my binders out (as opposed to my woefully cramped room that is supposed to pass as some kind of acceptable living space). To my dismay, the library closes at 9:00 on Friday nights, so it looks like I won't be able to work with some elbow room and ruining my posture hunched on a bed after all.

To end on a slightly more optimistic note: today, while I had a few minutes to kill before dinner, I pulled down the book I received as a graduation gift from my high school teachers (which I have yet to finish), and I read their notes on the inside covers to me. It was wonderfully encouraging and just the pick-me-up I needed after a stressful first two weeks. There have been times I have struggled with my self-esteem and identity, but reading their loving words made me realize how blessed I have been to have such people in my life who appreciated my talents and knew me personally enough to pass on their counsel. When I'm feeling depressed by a lot of (what I perceive to be) spoiled and apathetic people who seem to have a charmed life, it's good to be reminded of the good I have been given and what I want to offer.

So, I will try to keep you updated, as I really do appreciate your interest in my life and especially your prayers! Some people might think college students have an easy life, but while I certainly can't compare to the poor people in Haiti, it's not all a cakewalk either. Thank you for caring.

To quote Holly: "Never give up on your dreams."

Out With The Old, In With the New

2010-01-05T09:51:00.000-06:00

The old wisdom tooth, that is. This morning, I woke at the crack of doom to have my only wisdom tooth (upper left) removed at around 8:00.

I'm usually fine going to the dentist, and I was only slightly apprehensive about this procedure, although I was reassured by the many people who had gone before me assuring me that it is quite mild.

I opted to take nitrous oxide (a.k.a. "laughing gas," which, incidentally, happens to be what propels your whipped cream out of its canister and is a leading greenhouse gas) instead of an intravenous anesthesia, and I'm glad I did because it allowed me to remain conscious while feeling no pain.

I thought I would write down my experience of the procedure for my own recollection and for others who have to have their wisdom teeth removed in the future.

The technician showed me into the operating room, which was really no different than many other dentists' offices, and covered me with a nice, warm blanket and sheet (to keep the blood off of course). She then placed a rubber "mask" over my nose and proceeded to administer the nitrous oxide to me before the dental surgeon swabbed some piña colada-flavored numbing gel on my gum in order to inject me with the local anesthesia.

The nitrous oxide was probably the best part of the whole process. It is difficult to explain unless you have experienced it, but I would describe it as simply a warm, pleasant sensation, akin to that which you feel when you're feeling particularly touched or sentimental, which spreads from your chest out to your head, hands, and feet. It was very peaceful, and I briefly wondered if that is what it feels like when you die (morbid me), although I think I described it as a "fugue-like state."

Anyway, they injected me four times I think, and while I could tell that something was poking me, I couldn't feel much of the needle. Then they left me for 10 minutes just breathing oxygen while the local anesthesia took effect, during which time, I contemplated the ceiling, prayed, and made mental notes of the whole procedure because I was fascinated by it.

Ten minutes later, the assistant and surgeon returned, turned the nitrous oxide back on, placed a "mouth prop" between my teeth near my lips to keep my jaw open, and with some calming words to describe what I would feel, began the incision process. I didn't know to what extent the anesthesia actually numbed the pain, but I honestly felt nothing of them cutting my gum, which took probably a minute. Then, the surgeon told me I'd hear some noise-- it reminded me of the polisher they use at your regular dental checkups-- after which I felt "some pressure."

This was probably the worst part of the whole process, but it was hardly painful. It reminded me of when the orthodontist removed my Herbst appliance, which had been cemented to each of my four molars, although at that time, I was not anesthetized at all and I feared he would pull my molar out with the contraption. In this case, I can only describe the sensation as a vague pulling somewhere back in my head, kind of like after you have been hit by a basketball on the side of your head. Then, a slight give that reminded me of when one of your loose teeth finally just kind of floats out of its place after days of pushing it with your tongue.

Finally, I saw the thread they used to stitch my gum back up, of which I felt nothing, of course, and even that part only took about a minute or two. Then, it was over. The entire ordeal took less time than a regular cleaning, and thanks to the nitrous oxide, I was basically in a state of blissful autopilot.

I was fortunate I only had one, and the doctor told me if I'd had four, it would have taken about four times as long. When all is said and done, though, I came back into the waiting room and said, "Well that was fun!"

I asked them if I could keep my wisdom tooth, and I have it wrapped up in an envelope; unfortunately, I left my camera's cable at school, so I will post the picture of it in a couple of weeks when I return.

Let There Be Peace on Earth

2009-12-05T22:56:00.000-06:00

(Despite the disjointed place this entry takes after such a joyful previous post, I feel the need to reflect and share my thoughts after watching a video about suicide bombing for my Anthropology class.)

I'm wiping away tears as I write this, surprised at the profundity of my experience, and deeply saddened by the tragic reality of the constant conflict in this war-torn region of the world, yet in spite of the seemingly hopeless situation, I feel deeply moved and inspired to do what I can to act as an agent of peace in a world rent by violence.

Recently, I have been learning about the history of the Middle East in my Anthropology class, and I am ashamed to discover that I nearly quite literally knew nothing about the subject until a few weeks ago. It has been an overwhelming amount of information, and long overdue, but better late than never. Still, it shocks and frustrates me to realize how little the rest of the American public knows about the long and complicated history of violence in the Middle East and the motivations for the different factions.

Honestly, even eight years after the pivotal September 11, I still knew little more than 1) Palestinians and Israelis hate each other 2) Osama bin Laden is the head of a terrorist organization taking refuge in Afghanistan and 3) the United States has become embroiled in the never-ending conflicts in an attempt to establish democracy and peace. It was easy to hear reports of yet another car or suicide bombing on the evening news and just pass it out of mind as something to be expected "over there" without ever learning what could drive a human being to commit such an act against his fellow human beings.

On top of learning the histories of the countries in the Middle East, I have just recently also decided to learn Arabic, even if I can't take it as a class next semester, and only tonight I was practicing reading, writing, and pronouncing some of the letters before I watched this documentary.

All of this being said, I may not be sure at the moment, but I feel as if perhaps God might have revealed another glimpse of my vocation to me. I can't think of many other reasons why my curiosity for Islam and this fascinating-- yet terrifyingly difficult-- culture has been aroused in me, but after seeing children watching footage of their father's "martyrdom" and seeing mothers weeping over the sudden and inexplicable death of their sons, after seeing blood- and dust-covered people fleeing and being carried from the flaming ruins of a car bombing in distinctly September 11-esque images and the dismembered remains of a woman suicide bomber amidst the wreckage, after seeing people throwing rocks and flares over walls that divide a city illuminated by explosions at night, I feel that

Something must be done.

And not just "something must be done," but "I must do something, even in what small ways I can, to bring the love of God not just to these people, but to everyone I encounter." Still, I also can't help but feel an increasing tug within myself when I recognize the gifts for language and communication and the ability to think critically and passively apart from emotions along with a natural curiosity that I have been blessed with. And I wonder How can I use these gifts to serve God?

For a while now, I have held the idea-- almost a vague goal-- of obtaining a job where I could serve as a peacemaker, an intermediary where I could use my talents to bridge the gaps between peoples in order to bring them closer as brothers and sisters in respect and peace. I find myself thinking more and more of the Prayer of St. Francis and it is fast becoming my mantra.

I have already embraced the French culture through learning that language, and I feel that it has prepared me to continue to do so, possibly until I can love the entire world and see it more through the eyes of God. In any case, I feel that I at least have a good stepping stone to foray ahead into the exotic and unknown culture of the Middle East. And whether it's my mission to minister to "the eldest daughter of the Church" or my brothers and sisters in Judaism and Islam I cannot say right now, but I can only pray that God graces me with the ability to radiate his love and joy to whomever I am called to serve.

It is a grim world that I find myself entering, and it would be too easy to succumb to the overwhelming darkness that stands before us. But lest I seem too hopeful and naive in my young age, I take comfort in the phrase that appears in the holy scriptures the most often: "Be not afraid!"

I will end with two quotes by a man I wish we still had among us; yet we do not have need for another John Paul II. He faithfully served in his time in this life, and it is with deepest admiration and inspiration that I look to him as my time is at hand:

"It is the duty of all believers, to whichever religion they belong, to proclaim that we can never be happy pitted one against the other, the future of humanity will never be able to be secured by terrorism and by the logic of war."

"Dear young people...Do not wait until you are older in order to set out on the path of holiness! Holiness is always youthful, just as eternal as the youthfulness of God. You are young, and the Pope is old, 82 or 83 years of life is not the same as 22 or 23. But the Pope still fully identifies with your hopes and aspirations. Although I have lived through much darkness, under harsh totalitarian regimes, I have seen enough evidence to be unshakably convinced that no difficulty, no fear is so great that it can completely suffocate the hope that springs eternal in the hearts of the young. You are our hope; the young are our hope. Do not let that hope die! Stake your lives on it! We are not the sum of our weaknesses and failures; we are the sum of the Father's love for us and our real capacity to become the image of his Son."

Victory!

2009-11-29T23:30:00.001-06:00

Today, at approximately 11:00 P.M. CST, I crossed the 50,000 word finish line for the fourth year in a row, thus completing another successful year of National Novel Writing Month and proving to myself that I can do anything if I set my mind to it. Even with the pressure of my freshman fall semester, I managed to set a goal and see it through, and the feeling never gets old. Despite all my planning before November this year, I still had quite a rough time of it in the middle, but I think if I had not done the preparation I had, I might not have made it this year. Still, I managed to pull ahead from behind and even finish a day early.

Some people will never understand why we sign up for this crazy, month-long endeavor we affectionately call "NaNo," and as my dad said just this morning "writing 50,000 words just sounds like torture to me." And it can be! Even to me at times. But the thing that keeps me coming back is the feeling of satisfaction knowing that I made the decision to allow myself to dream and set a challenging goal, and not only to set that goal, but to put in the effort of achieving it, no matter what. It's my goal to actually publish a novel one day, and even though my four NaNo manuscripts are piles of rubbish right now, I can say that I have written four books, and having completed the latest one has inspired me to pursue editing and completing the others.

Right now, I'm content with the 50,048 words I have written, and my poor mind and hands are begging for a respite. I may let my Muse have a little bit of a vacation, but it's going back to work soon to get started on revising. For now, though, I'm going to put off writing about my great Thanksgiving break and simply bask in the glow of my glorious purple winner bar.

Victory - Bond

Slightly Behind, but Hanging in There

2009-11-16T22:05:00.000-06:00

I can't believe it's been five days since I last updated here. Lately, everything has been about catching up.

I spent a great weekend at home, where I got to see my brother do an astounding job at playing the part of Gaston in our high school's production of Beauty and the Beast, and it was just wonderful talking to a lot of my old friends from school who were involved in the production. I especially enjoyed seeing our former drama teacher, who flew in from Amarillo just to see the play. As much as I'm enjoying college and I was ready to move on in life just a few months ago this spring, I realize now how much I want to savor everything about life; being back home really makes me wistful for the good times there, and seeing the play this weekend brought back good memories from when I was in Annie, Get Your Gun two years ago.

On Saturday, I slept in, having stayed up until almost 3:00 the night before. I only had just enough time to cobble together my little presentation on writing before scrambling out the door for my afternoon at the Wells Branch Library where I used to work. I passed the whole afternoon there hosting a write-in in the meeting room. Only four other people came, and we barely socialized, but even without talking, I still fought to eke out every word that afternoon. All in all, I felt kind of sad that I spent half the day somewhat alone in a small meeting room at my former place of work, but it wasn't a total waste because I did make progress, no matter how painstakingly.

Saturday night on my way home, I happened to see some familiar cars in the parking lot at church, so I poked my head into the youth group's office to see what was going on. It was a good thing I did since there was a retreat planning meeting going on, and I was able to see several people from my youth group that I missed on my last visit. I spent the next couple hours with my friend Patrick, talking about life and vocations and faith, and it was really good to be able to share my feelings in words with someone else at the same stage of life.

Sunday, I again slept late, trying to catch up on sleep lost at the end of last week, but it was just as well since I ended up going to the youth-served mass at 11:45. This time, I was able to see my former piano teacher and her adorable baby, as well as our pastor at my home parish. I couldn't believe that I had forgotten that November 15 was the feast day of St. Albert, the parish's patron.

I didn't do much the rest of the afternoon except go out to Half Price Books to use a 50% off coupon, netting me a Berlitz Intermediate Italian course for just about $7.00, plus two other workbooks, Russian and Arabic in 10 Minutes a Day. Since I was near SuperCuts, I also got a haircut, which feels much better, although with the cold front that came in last night, my head is cold now!

As for words, I managed to write about 2,000 today, although ideally, I should be about 1,000 further. I'm not sure what it is, but I have faced this problem almost every year where I just absolutely hate my story and want to trash it. Before November started, I made around fifty notecards with scene ideas on them, but the only thing that was really cemented in my head was the introduction to the story. When that was finished, the plot kind of fizzled out, and I have been making up absolute rubbish in the meantime to fill the gap. Still, I managed to cross over the halfway mark (whoop! ^_^) today, and if I can bang out at least 10,000 more words, it ought to be smoother sailing from there. Too bad these words don't count! ;)

Current wordcount: 25,392 and counting

2,000 words = Much Better Day

2009-11-11T23:57:00.000-06:00

So, I'm definitely going to be trying to write as early in the day as I can; today, I got 2,000 words more written, and while it started off slowly at first, I ditched the scene that was going nowhere and jumped ahead to something I actually had planned on a plotcard. Sure, it was almost all infodump, but those words can be cut later. They all count now! Every, last, precious one of them ;)

So now, I'm just a tad shy of 20,000 words!

The Words Are Barely Flowing... But They Are Coming None the Less

2009-11-10T23:04:00.000-06:00

I think I need to go back to writing in the morning and not late at night. These past two nights, I have struggled to put out even 1,000 words, which I can normally knock out in a good, productive 30 minutes. I think I have just been too tired mentally to be very creative, not to mention I am in the slogging grounds nearing the middle of the story. I also happen to realize that I'm currently in a doldrums area where my plotcards don't cover, very well, but fortunately, I have a lot of good scene ideas to use later.

I feel like I'm behind, even though I'm managing to hold my position at just barely beyond where I need to be. Hoping tomorrow goes better.

Current count: 17,169

A Hard 1k More

2009-11-09T23:19:00.000-06:00

I don't know what it was, but I was so tired tonight, that I barely managed to eke out 1,000 more words. I had to adjust the time zone on my profile due to the time change at the beginning of the month, but I fortunately am right about where I need to be.

I'm too tired to write much more, so I'm off to bed. Hopefully, I can make use of my lack of both Anthropology AND Shakespeare lessons tomorrow to get some more inspiring words written.

Current wordcount: 16,150

No New Words Tonight, but A Midsummer Night's Dream for Inspiration

2009-11-07T23:32:00.000-06:00

I spent most of the day doing chores and then working on homework/reading, so I didn't write at all today, which makes me very sad. But, I did get somethings done, and this is what the word cushion is for. Hopefully, tomorrow, even though I still have a lot to do, I will be able to add another 1,000 words on.

As a side note, I went to see the drama company's presentation of A Midsummer Night's Dream since I just recently studied that play in my Shakespeare class. It's a good thing I'd just read it since the director went in a quasi-futuristic direction with the costumes and set (which included flying robots playing some faeries, engineered by the computer science department). At first, I wasn't sure what to think of it all, but by the end, I really enjoyed it, and the space atmosphere actually made me look at the traditional faeries slightly differently. Who says they couldn't also be futuristic beings from another world or time?

Anyway, I'll get around to writing my extra credit review sometime, maybe as a warmup for a writing session tomorrow.

BIG Day and the Widgets Are Working!

2009-11-07T00:17:00.000-06:00

Today was a good Friday. I was sad that I missed my French class, but it was because I won the "lunch lottery" with my Shakespeare professor by sending him an email of less than two sentences saying I wanted to talk about his dog, Roselyn with him, and I ended up being one of the four students chosen by his wife to go to lunch with him. He drove three of us in his nice BMW (with plates that read, SHKSPR, of course) to a very nice restaurant called La Riviera, where we had a great lunch there, and I got to know my teacher and a couple of my classmates better.

Then, on the writing front... I worked in the library after a fascinating Linguistics class today (we're finally getting into historical- and sociolinguistics (which involves finding common ancestors of language families). Anyway, I was feeling a little depressed because it was that time of day when the sun is going away, and I realized that almost all of my friends are gone for the weekend: My roommate, my next door neighbors, my high school friends, and my friend Anna is here, but her parents are visiting. I was thinking it was a little sad that I had nothing to do on a Friday night, but I was able to get out about 1,000 words before dinner, where I fortunately ran into my Sbisa friend Steven. Interestingly, he was going to the production of A Midsummer Night's Dream tonight, which I had planned on going to alone, but while I would have loved to join him and his friends, just prior to dinner, I learned that some wrimos from the area were having an impromptu writein at the local Barnes and Noble, so I ended up going there, and it was great.

It's funny how writers are often "strange" people, but isn't everyone a little strange if you think about it? They weren't anywhere near as "weird" as a lot of the Austinite bunch, but it was immense fun to write with four other wrimos and learn about similar interests. We had two "word wars" (in which everyone tries to write as much as possible within a set time limit-- in our case, 30 minutes-- before comparing totals), which helped me get another couple thousand words written. Then we had fun browsing the sci-fi and fantasy section of the bookstore and giving our input on various authors and series, after which we left because it was closing, only to stand outside for another half hour talking about video games and programming.

I know, it was kind of a nerd fest, but I haven't had people like that to talk to forever, and it was a lot of fun.

Anyway, as you can see my by nifty widget, which is *finally* working, I now have a grand total of 13,282 words, which puts me where I need to be by the end of Sunday! Good thing, too, since I have a lot of work to do this weekend.

Nearly 1/5 of the way there already?

2009-11-06T00:03:00.000-06:00

I just ran out of time to cross the 10k mark tonight, but I got darn close at 9,741 words total. Today was a very good writing day: the protagonist can't leave the village, effectively subjecting him to my every whim and fancy; the villain has been introduced, though only vaguely, and he's even more repulsive than I made him in the outline; and the protagonist has met his fey protagonist counterpart, which I can tell you was quite the candybar scene to write!

How exciting! It's already been almost a week, and we're steaming along quite well. Here's to keeping the forward momentum and racking up the words this weekend!

Daily Quota for Tomorrow Reached Tonight

2009-11-04T00:00:00.000-06:00

Today, I had no Anthropology video lecture, so I had a free hour in the library to write about a thousand words. Then, later, after much searching the internet for a suitable "controversial" article for my French class, I came back to the room and, hoping for at least 500 words, actually put out almost another 1,000, bringing my total up to 6,326 so far, and that's about how much I need to have by tomorrow night!

Good thing, too, since I have French club AND a history test to study for tomorrow...

But hooray for being ahead of schedule. If I can just keep this little buffer up, and increase it little by little, this just might be more doable than I thought this year.

Slightly Ahead of Schedule

2009-11-02T22:19:00.000-06:00

I added almost 3,000 more words today, bringing me to just slightly over the brink of 4k at an exact count of 4,054, which puts me about 700 words ahead of schedule.

The protagonist has arrived in the village and inspected the mansion he inherited from his eccentric, late uncle. Oh, and some of the local boys made a gruesome discovery to kick things off (that would be ironic if you could read the draft-- they were playing soccer at the time).

Nothing like a murder mystery in a sleepy, countryside village to get the ball rolling (oh, I'm just full of these puns tonight!) ;)

And We're Off!

2009-11-02T22:11:00.000-06:00

It's November 1, one of the best times of the year!

Not only is today the Feast of All Saints but it is also the start of National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo for short). For those who don't know, each November sine 2006, I have participated in NaNo and "won" by successfully writing 50,000 words of fiction on a new project within the 30 days of November. Why do I do this? Simply because I can (well, and I love creative writing, so it gives me a good excuse to sit down and bash out a book at least once a year).

Anyway, the good folks at the Office of Letters and Light have progressively improved the NaNoWriMo site over the years, and one of the coolest things about NaNo are the nifty wordcount widgets that track one's progress over the course of the month. Currently, they don't seem to be up and running, but soon, you will be able to see a brief summary of my wordcount progress each day, as I'll be trying to update my blog with a report of how the writing went each day. Hopefully, this will bring this blog back around to its original intent: namely, writing.

In other news, this weekend, I made my first visit back to Austin since moving to college. It was really nice to visit many of my friends and a couple teachers from back home, and of course, I got to spend some quality time with my much-missed dog. It all passed too quickly, though, but fortunately it won't be long before I can take another short break and come back to see my high school's production of Beauty and the Beast.

While I was in Austin, I was able to go to the midnight countdown for NaNoWriMo, which I've never been able to attend in the past because Halloween always fell on a school night. This time, the extra hour with the time change helped make up for the lack of sleep I got that night, and although most of the other Austin "Wrimos" are a bit... strange (hey, keep Austin weird, ya'll), it was still exciting to hear people roaring "10 minutes!" and "2 minutes!" before counting down the final moments of October to begin writing our novels at midnight on November 1. I managed to get in about 1,300 words in the first 50 minutes before feeling too tired to continue, so I headed home.

I didn't get any more words in on Sunday, even after I headed back to College Station, but it was a good start to my fourth NaNoWriMo, and I'm going to try to post here each night with the progress I made for each day of November.

Happy novelling!

It's Almost That Time Again...

2009-10-27T00:31:00.000-05:00

I had considered coming home this weekend, but I had too much going on here for that to be possible, so I will go back to Austin on Halloween weekend for the first time since moving to college. Usually, nothing particularly noteworthy occurs during the week, but I had another eventful weekend, starting on Friday night.

Christopher West, renowned Theology of the Body speaker, came to Texas A&M to deliver a presentation titled "The Longing." I was pleased that there was a large turnout and that both Trever and Seth came along. I was also happy to see my friend Ciera from my church at home. A group of Catholics from Texas State had come up that evening to attend the event, and I hadn't seen her for a couple months (which is hard to believe). I thought West's delivery was excellent, although most of it was what I'd heard in the videos I've been watching in my Theology of the Body study group, and I'm pretty sure he was preaching mostly to the choir, but maybe there were some people in the audience who hadn't heard the "revolution" yet.

I had to leave early because my friend Anna had invited me to see Where the Wild Things Are. I don't remember much from the children's book, which is apparently only about nine sentences long. It's strange yet kind of amazing how many movies are based off of books these days and how many are based on extremely simple children's books with hardly any plot to develop for two hours. My reaction to the film is mixed: Overall, I suppose I enjoyed it, but it was a very bizarre movie. It has some very touching moments, but the plot is kind of boring; I did crack up at some occasions simply because of the complete unexpectedness of certain scenes. As the movie became stranger and stranger, Anna turned to me at one point and said (jokingly), "Am I high? Stop putting drugs in my drinks." It could just be that Where the Wild Things Are was never a favorite of mine in childhood, but I preferred the film adaptations of Charlotte's Web and Horton Hears a Who much more.

When I returned to my room, I did my laundry then since I would not have time the next day. While I was waiting for my laundry, I wanted to try out a new piece of music I'd just printed-- lately, I've been really in love with Chopin's Nocturnes-- but I was very disappointed to be beaten to the piano in the All Faith's Chapel nearby by only seconds by a guy with a ponytail wearing a bathrobe. I waited for about half an hour (the length of a washing cycle) while he and a girl plunked out a pretty discordant duet they were working on, despairing how pathetic it was that I couldn't even find a free piano at midnight on a Friday night (when, I assume, most people are out getting drunk and hardly thinking of classical music).

Anyway, I got up earlier than usual on Saturday to go to Bryan in order to attend a writers conference that I had heard about from the municipal liaison of the Austin region for NaNoWriMo (more about NaNo below). There weren't many people there (it is Bryan, after all), but I did meet the very kind and noble Ms. Renée Giroux whose business, Stimulating-Conversation, sponsored the event. While she does not feel the call to write stories herself, she does feel it is her mission to help writers market themselves as effectively as they can in order to bring the stories they have to tell into the world. In an industry where there are many predators seeking to prey upon unsuspecting writers, I was heartened to meet someone who is using her talents to make her corner of the world just a little bit better. I also met a writer (Dawn Ireland) from Houston who gave a presentation about critique groups and was kind enough to actually give me a copy of her book The Puppy Baby Book. I also delivered a speech about National Novel Writing Month since it's right around the corner, and I was happy to find other people who were interested in the event. Overall, the writers conference allowed me to meet some other creative people and learn a few things, not to mention I got to bring home a free box of donuts.

After the writers conference, Anna picked me up and we went with our friend Carly from French Club to the new frozen yogurt place called Spoons. It was a sort of French Club outing, although Anna's original messages sent via Facebook arrived a day late, and there was a discrepancy between the times mentioned, so people kept showing up randomly. Still, it was really good frozen yogurt and a good time was had by all.

On Sunday afternoon, I went with Anna (again) to a really neat European-style café not too far away called Sweet Eugene's and spent most of the day there attempting to do homework until about 6:00. Carly was there, too, as well as Nicolas, a French exchange student from Paris I have met through St. Mary's. After Sweet Eugene's, Anna, Nicolas, and I went to the nearby Fazoli's for dinner, and I haven't been to a Fazoli's for a long time, so it was especially good.

All in all, not an extremely productive weekend, but I fortunately didn't have too much work to do. I am, however, trying to knock out two papers before they're even due in November so that I will have as much time as possible next month to work on National Novel Writing Month. I can't believe October is almost over and another year has come and gone since I last celebrated this annual frenzy of literary abandon. It's going to be difficult this year especially now that I'm in college and my schedule is so full all the time, but having "won" by achieving my goal of 50,000 words each year since 2006, I can't let my winning streak die. Fortunately, I've been planning my story for this November for a while, although I still don't feel entirely prepared; still, that's part of the challenge and excitement of NaNo, and now, there is less than a week until the madness recommences! I'll be in Austin to attend the midnight countdown on Halloween with my fellow Austinite wrimos (yay team Lushguins!), but for now, while the thunder is rumbling on the horizon, I'd better buckle down and tidy up what work I can do now before the real storm breaks.

Obama Comes to Texas A&M

2009-10-17T01:15:00.000-05:00

This week passed by fast, even though nothing really exciting happened except for probably the third round of tug-o'-war between hot, humid weather and another cool front since the start of autumn.

Oh, and the sitting president of the United States of America visited my school.

The cooler weather wasn't the only thing to arrive on Friday morning; today was finally the day everyone has been talking about for the past month. At the invitation of former President George H.W. Bush, President Barack Obama visited Texas A&M University to commend community service and volunteerism at a forum hosted by the Thousand Points of Light Institute founded by the former President Bush during his term.

When I initially learned about the president's visit to our campus, I had planned to attend the speech in Rudder Auditorium until I found out it was an invitation-only event, open to about 2,500 people. I wasn't too happy about the exclusivity of the event; after all, it seems pointless for a sitting president to visit a college campus if the students can't see him. But, actually, it may have worked out for the better this way, as I was free to wander about the activities taking place and enjoy the beautiful weather.

Almost forgetting to take my camera with me as I walked out the door this morning, I fortunately remembered to grab it just in time. Just across the street from where my fencing class is, some metal fences had been erected along the sidewalks near Rudder Tower, where the president would be speaking, and many news crews had already arrived.

(Click pictures for larger image)
I had received an email informing the campus that the security perimeter around Rudder Tower would be established at 11:00 AM, so I was curious about how I'd get back to the north side of campus after fencing, which ended at around 11:30. I came out of my building and overheard some girls talking about the event and ended up joining their conversation (that's one of the neat things about Texas A&M-- you can talk to almost anyone-- and one of the girls was actually in my French class). Anyway, while we were talking, the protesters' rally was getting set up in Spence Park across the street (although it was well out of the way of Rudder), and we saw a group of police on bikes arrive (which brought back memories of Paris for me particularly).

I was slightly annoyed that the rather brusque, outsider community personnel forced me (and several other people) to take a much longer detour around the campus to get to my French class. But it gave me a reason to go out of my way and see more of parts of the campus I hardly visit, not to mention see just how large of a barrier had been set up. Basically, the entire block that the Rudder Tower complex sits on was surrounded by metal fences and wherever a street led towards the building, several yellow-jacketed security personnel would ward away curious-- or oblivious-- pedestrians.

I was in classes until about 4:00, when the president was scheduled to deliver his speech. I had figured if I couldn't see it in person, I'd at least watch it via streaming, so I went to the nearby library and tried to do so, but the buffer stream was too slow, and what it did show was not the president, but a bunch of other people discussing community service at the forum. Out of boredom and curiosity (and the fact that the library was empty on a beautiful Friday afternoon), I decided to head back over to the park to see how the rally was coming along.

Ironically, I ran into the same girl from my French class waiting with a friend along the side of one of the roads (which would later be where the motorcade left the campus, but more about that later). Going across the street to the rally turned out to be a time-wasting diversion, but at least it was pleasant outside-- and there were dogs.

Personally, I can't stand most of President Obama's policies, but the rally was rather out of place today, as his presence on the campus was mainly to promote community service, not politics. Even though I myself am fairly conservative, I had intended to attend the president's speech anyway, and I felt, at the worst, embarrassed by the protesters and at best, bemused by their campaigning. Most of the content of the signs and speeches denounced big government, socialism, and Obamacare, all of which I can empathise with, but I wandered away from the gathering feeling bored, indifferent, and slightly annoyed (even though I thought these posters were amusing).

I ended up standing with my writer friend, Lauren, along the street and had an interesting, enlightening, and-- blessedly-- civil conversation with her about the whole affair. She's black and identifies herself as falling to the liberal end of the spectrum, though only moderately, just as I feel that I fall moderately to the right of the spectrum. But the most fortunate thing I learned is that we both agree that abortion is wrong (having no conservative shirts, I wore my 40 Days for Life t-shirt today, just in case Obama happened to see me).

Well, he just might have seen me, if only for a split second as the motorcade passed. More exciting, though, was that I actually saw him through the window of one of the black suburbans. I was pretty astonished, actually, because I had only just learned less than an hour before where to stand to see the cars pass and I thought it would be impossible to pick out which vehicle he was riding in. That's the whole point of having several identical vehicles in a line anyway, or so I thought. Still, I only just managed to realize that it was indeed him waving through the window of the third suburban (which, interestingly, passed on the far side of the road from where we were allowed to stand.)

Even though, like I said, I'm not a terrible supporter of ol' B. Hussein Obama, it was still exciting being that close to the sitting president and actually seeing him in person for the first time, although, honestly, I felt a little unsettled hearing the enthusiastic cheers of some of the people down the street. You'd think we were witnessing Jesus entering Jerusalem sitting on an ass. Well, the analogy can only stretch so far... Anyway, the closest I've probably been to a sitting president (no, not on an ass-- whether one conscripted by the state in the name of socialism or on his own-- or in a nondescript, black suburban, smart aleck) was when I was in Washington, D.C. several years ago and I saw the White House from a distance.

Long after the procession had passed, I made my way back to the library with Lauren, but on the way, I spied what could only have been the attendees of the forum all congregated around the entrance to Rudder, as well as the KVUE News van from Austin.

Later, I looked up some news articles about the event; I haven't yet had a chance to watch the entirety of the president's speech, but I'm not sure what I make of his remarks (here, taken from the Associated Press' report):

“While there’s plenty that government can and must do ... there’s a lot that government can’t and shouldn’t do and that’s where active, engaged citizens come in.”

Of course, in this instance, he was leading into a commendation, even a commissioning, one might daresay, of community service. But I think the president would do well to reflect upon his words here in light of his political agenda, as well.

After witnessing the pithy protest on campus today, then beholding Barack himself in person, then reading the (depressingly) volatile comments beneath any political news story, I come away from today not quite sure what I feel:

Disgust at the petty, emotional divisions that separate us as people blindly (and lazily) seek to identify with something larger than themselves instead of trying to be larger than any one political party, excitement at the prospect of seeing a sitting U.S. President and having the honor of the office on our campus, relief that it is still possible to find and discuss civilly with people who may not be exactly like you but share a common revulsion for extremism and willingness to work for what is good, and pride for my country and state as I see people actively engaged in the political life of their nation.

I may have felt a bit adrift, as I couldn't fully identify with either hysteric groups-- either the president's detractors or his groupies-- but I feel like I will remember this experience for a long time to come. And hey, at least they didn't throw eggs this time.

It Has Not Been the Best of Weekends

2009-10-11T16:19:00.000-05:00

I'll try not to be too much of an empêcheur de tourner-en-rond-- a kill-joy-- but suffice it to say, this weekend was not the best. Things could always be worse, but then, they could always be better, too.

This weekend, two of my classmates from high school, whom I haven't seen for months, visited from Abilene. It was nice to see them and catch up, and I was fortunately able to find them in the cafeteria for dinner on Friday night. Now, I was supposed to go with them to the football game on Saturday, but this is where the first misfortune happened. You see, my friend Meghan (who was hosting them in her dorm room) collected our tickets during the week, so I was supposed to sit with them. However, I missed the game entirely because I had no idea that it was scheduled for 11:30 AM instead of the usual 6:00 PM. It was only at about 4:00 in the afternoon, after having spent most of the day diligently doing homework in the library in order to finish it before the game that night, that I discovered my mistake. And then I found out the Aggies lost, on top of it all. I just don't know why Meghan didn't call or text me, but I guess she was preoccupied during the game.

Then, this morning, my friend Evan was supposed to meet me for mass, but he was so late in coming that I had to resign myself to a spot in the adjacent chapel and watch it via camera and TV while he ended up going to the student activities center for the second, simultaneous overflow mass that started a bit later (St. Mary's is so full of people they have not only four different scheduled times on Sunday alone, but often two masses going on at one time during those timeframes). Anyway, this isn't the first time that I have tried to go to mass with people who have been late, and at our church, you have to get there decently early if you want a seat.

Speaking of mass, it was raining (and chilly) when I got out, so I rode my bike back to my room through the precipitation before going to lunch, where I ran into Meghan and L'nae before she had to leave for Abilene. While it was nice to be able to say goodbye to her, I learned something unsettling from Meghan.

I had been wondering if she would go to mass this weekend since she was hosting our two protestant friends. Apparently not. She told me they had gone to St. Thomas Episcopal church (I missed why that church specifically; I think Rebekah's brother goes there) and explained how it was similar to a Catholic liturgy, but their way of celebrating communion was different. Out of curiosity, I asked her if she had merely observed this difference or if she had also taken part in it, to which she replied nonchalantly that she had indeed participated in their communion service. I tried to point out, as graciously as I could, that she shouldn't have done that, but she insists that it's all about what one personally believes (one of the weakest relativist arguments I've ever heard). Immediately after that, I learned from her that while they had tried to find the Church of Christ here in College Station (L'nae and Rebekah are Church of Christ), she learned from our classmate Trever that his girlfriend was in town and that he and she were going to the service there but didn't have enough room in the car to take the girls as well.

A note to my non-Catholic readers: I am not making a case against you, here; I have a lot of respect for my brother and sister Christians, and I don't expect you to always agree with what I believe. My gripe here is with my fellow "Catholics" with whom I should at least be able to agree if we claim that name. What I am about to say is not meant to be exclusive or to draw boundaries out of an outdated sense of "us vs. them" but rather, to make an appeal to logic and the conviction of our faith (which I thought we shared).

You must understand that two of the most important things that make us Catholic are our obligation to attend mass each week and, most core of all to our faith, our belief in the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. Without getting into the complexities of this doctrine, simply understand that to a Catholic, Holy Communion is not merely a symbolic meal, but a metaphysical, miraculous sacrament wherein we receive not bread and wine, but Jesus' precious body, blood, soul, and divinity and signify our spiritual communion with all of our Catholic brothers and sisters throughout the world AND history.

Ordinarily, non-Catholics are not allowed to receive communion at mass, although they are welcome to come forward to be blessed, and by the same token, Catholics are not to receive communion at non-Catholic churches because those churches are not really in full communion with ours, and to do so would compromise and scandalize our belief in the Holy Eucharist.

Additionally, Catholics are ordinarily obliged to attend mass at least once a week on the Sabbath (either Saturday night or any time on Sunday), and to willfully miss mass is a grave sin. This is not meant to be a dictatorial imposition. Rather, the Church, knowing what is best for our souls and entrusted to the guardianship of those souls and God's Truth until Jesus' return, in her wisdom has placed this obligation upon us for our benefit. I cannot speak for others, but for myself (and I should think for other Catholics who strive to strengthen their faith through its practice and reception of the sacraments), attending mass is a joyful opportunity, not an unpleasant burden I do out of a sense of fear or duty. It's the difference between "I've got to go to mass on Sunday" and "I get to go to mass on Sunday" (and indeed, every day of the week if one wished).

Basically, it distresses me (and to be honest, at first, it angered me) to hear that two people who profess to believe the same thing as me, apparently do not. I'm trying very hard not to be judgemental, as it is probably a case of a lack of true understanding on their part (isn't it always? "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."), but is it so much to ask that people at least put forth the effort to seriously contemplate what they do, in fact, believe? Personally, I've never been able to depend on any of my Catholic classmates in high school (except maybe one, occasionally) to help explain Catholic beliefs to those who wanted to know more, and I hate to be cynical, but this doesn't really surprise me that they continue in their apathy.

I hope that my readers will not mistake my sentiments as a condemnation on their part, but rather understand my deep sense of disappointment and betrayal. If you and some friends belonged to a club, but they started compromising the values and core mission of that club, wouldn't you feel the same? Only in this case, we are talking of no mere club or social organization, but religion, which I believe is one of the most polarizing topics of conversation simply because it is tied with our core values and helps define who we are.

I feel the same way about supposedly Catholic politicians (John Kerry, John Edwards, Ted Kennedy, Kathleen Sibelius, etc.). Why bother calling yourself something if you don't agree with it? Why not just leave? You'd be in good company: King Henry VIII, Martin Luther... Just please don't fragment the already shattered body of Christ more by basically living a lie. At least have the courtesy and the courage to say what you really believe and stop being a "cafeteria Catholic."

Anyway, I don't know if I should even say anything to them or not bother; it's one of my struggles, being charitable, but then again, do I even have a responsibility for them anyway? They're big kids now, and I'm tired of holding their hands, always being there to represent Catholicism to others so they don't have to do any work.

"Let him who has ears hear."

Designated Driver is Disappointed

2009-10-03T21:45:00.005-05:00

Last night, my friend Anna from Linguistics class (who is also the president of the French Club) invited me to go to "First Friday," which is apparently supposed to be a sort of art bazaar in nearby downtown Bryan. I was envisioning something akin to what one might see at a Renaissance festival, and it sounded interesting enough, kind of like something I might be able to see at home in Austin.

Well, it wasn't much of a street market. Some aspects felt like Austin, like the plethora of liberal bumper stickers and several people that looked like they'd be more at home down on The Drag near U.T. than in College Station. But unfortunately, there wasn't much in the way of artsy/crafty stuff. One place we did stop at had a sort of artsy vibe to it based on the wall paintings, and it was fun to go outside to the alley and watch old people dance to oldies (especially since we had a French student from Normandy with us who had heard only some of the most famous songs and had his first Mexican food that night at dinner).

After stopping there, most of the others wanted to go to this "café" called The Revolution. I say "café" because it was one of the most dingy, oppressive dives I've ever visited, and they hardly serve coffee there. Set at the base of a creepy abandoned-looking building, there is a courtyard of sorts adjacent to the tiny interior, which is extremely dark and apparently one of the few places in Bryan that still allows indoor smoking. The "art" on the walls was well done, technically, but the mood from it was creepy and dark: entirely suitable for the place, but hardly what I'd call uplifting.

We then proceeded to stand in front of some very loud speakers to listen to one of the most God-awful ensembles I've ever had the displeasure to hear. At first, I was thinking "Oh, it's "indie;" I just need to give it a try." But by the end of the hour, I'd had more than enough of standing amidst the secondhand smoke from every other person in the courtyard, bearing what was basically what I can only describe as a bunch of juveniles enjoying making a lot of very loud, very discordant noise. Even Anna said it was terrible compared to her friend's band, and the French student said "la musique est nulle"-- or in other words, it's awful. Here is just a sample of what I endured; just remember, it was about fifty times louder, too:

At the risk of sounding scathingly patronizing and elitist, I just have to mount the soapbox and say that maybe I just don't fit in with that subculture, but after having worked painstakingly to interpret such composers as Bach, Chopin, Mozart, and Beethoven, watching a scruffy, drunkard thrash and stumble around the stage while yelling and pounding an electric keyboard and calling it "art" or "music" is almost like a slap in the face. It could be that I'm a perfectionist, but it just seems that it is often the truly talented who remain hidden while the mediocre are so desperate for attention they will do anything to get into the spotlight, no matter how half-baked it is. I like this quote by Claude Monet:

"Perhaps it's true that I'm very hard on myself, but that's better than exhibiting mediocre work... too few were satisfactory enough to trouble the public with."

Anyway, the girl who drove us insisted that she could take us back, but both Anna and I (who, thankfully, doesn't drink and exhibited good sense) agreed that one of us should drive. Since she doesn't like to drive, it ended up being me. Fortunately, getting back to campus was not overly difficult, and I think it no small coincidence that it was also the Feast of the Guardian Angels; I'm certain one was looking out for me, anyway. I've never had to be a "designated driver," and I don't plan on doing this regularly, but of course I'm much too concerned for my own safety to let that from stopping me if the need arises again. You live and learn.

Speaking of feasts, and on a bit of a more positive note... Since tomorrow is the Feast of St. Francis, St. Mary's held a blessing of the animals today, and since I miss my dog at home an awful lot, I went to the little ceremony this morning to get some canine companionship. It was fun to watch all the dogs interacting and it's amazing how many varieties of a single species there are. I'm so thankful that God gave us these little friends-- our brothers and sisters, as St. Francis would say-- and I can't wait until I can have a dog in my life again.

Oh, the Irony!

2009-09-25T18:50:00.001-05:00

Last night was one of the busiest nights I've had for a while. Earlier in the day, I received an invitation from my Fish Camp friend Angela, whom I also know from church, to go dancing at one of the local country dance halls for her birthday that night. Figuring it would be a good excuse to finally go out, I was glad to accept the invitation, but before that, I had several meetings to attend.

I started off the evening by going to daily mass like I've usually been doing on Thursdays, and after that, I had my first Aggie International Ambassadors meeting, although it was, unfortunately, almost on the other side of the campus from where St. Mary's is, and I would eventually have to return to the church for my next engagement.

The AIA meeting was all right, although I'm not as enthusiastic about it as I'd like to be- yet, anyway. The highlight was learning some of the characters of the Arabic script from an Iraqi student officer, but I still haven't fully figured out how I will be involved with that group.

After that meeting concluded, I hopped back on my bike and pedaled like mad through the dark and the cold and rain all the way back to St. Mary's, where the first session of my Theology of the Body study group was meeting. We got to know the other people in the group before watching a video presentation by Christopher West, the champion of Pope John Paul II's radical theology about human sexuality. Some of his points were brilliant and extremely thought provoking, like the idea that the body is the only way we can make visible what is invisible and that it would be impossible to know that someone else existed were it not for his own body for you to experience through your own senses. Also, I thought the idea that each person's existence and no less than human history itself literally hinges on who is having sex with whom was earth-shattering. In any case, the entire theology is deeply inspiring, and God bless JPII for bringing us this new "sexual revolution" at the our we need it most.

Once that was over, it was only a short bike ride (still in the dark and cold, though) over to Harry's where I waited around for a while for Angela, although fortunately, her high school friend Drew who is also in my Theology of the Body study group was there as well. She didn't show up until about half an hour later, but the place was pretty empty while we waited anyway. Once she did arrive, I met a few of her other friends from high school (all of whom were Catholic as well, which was nice), and by that time, a lot more people had started to fill up the dance floor, too.

Now, Harry's is a country/Western type dance hall, so most of what they played up until a certain point was country music, and I had a good time dancing with Angela, one of her friends, and-- ironically-- two friends from my own high school I ran into, one of whom graduated three years earlier than me, despite the fact that it was so crowded everyone couldn't help running into each other and practically no one can dance in time to the music anyway (Texas two-stepping just doesn't work in some meters, people!) Emily (the older girl from my school) and I kept giving each other a hard time about the irony of meeting a Catholic/Church of Christ fellow in a dance hall and bar (if you knew our high school, this would strike you as infinitely more amusing). But everyone that I knew had fun until...

The club music started. Normally, I don't mind modern dance music too much, although after last night, I really realised just how much of it is centered solely around the philosophy of self-centered idolatry and sexual promiscuity (and how painful the constant vibration of an over-worked bass can feel after a couple hours sending tremors through your entire body, let alone your eardrums). It was heartening that everyone whom I was with took to the elevated seating overlooking the dance floor when the grinding started, but I couldn't help but to be struck by the utter, yet tragic, irony of my night once the DJ's started hollering about all the "ladies" "getting laid" that night just before tossing out condoms into the crowd. I mean, here I was just hours before at a study dedicated to the reverence and renewal of our sacred sexuality and a profound turn-around in even the way we understand our own incarnate existence as both spiritual AND physical creatures, and right in front of me, I saw just what it is that we are up against in this culture war.

I've always been fascinated with watching other people's behavior, and tonight was no different, as I had nothing else to do in the meantime, yet this time was tinged with a pang of sadness, or realisation, that I can't remember having experienced before. I've always wondered what our guardian angels think of us, especially since I once heard that the angels have cause to be jealous of us since God created us not merely as pure spirits, but with a corporeal existence in which we can experience creation viscerally and even receive His son in a way infinitely more intimate than ever could in the Eucharist. God knows I've disappointed my own (if disappointment they feel) often enough, but I couldn't help but wonder what must it be like to be down in that crowd, watching-- perhaps even helplessly-- as the creatures you were made to protect heedlessly throw their sacred dignity away.

Anyway, I had fun, but I definitely had a brush with what my Shakespeare professor has been calling "the darker side of the dream" while we've been studying A Midsummer Night's Dream. Thankfully, God has revealed a glimmer of His true plan for our lives to me through the friends I have at St. Mary's, and I was especially grateful for the grace of the Eucharist while I felt a bit "in the lion's den." But rather than be overcome by despair, I find inspiration in the great examples God has given us in the saints, two of whom, St. John Bosco and St. Josemaria Escriva, said:

"Holy Purity, the queen of virtues, the angelic virtue, is a jewel so precious that those who possess it become like the angels of God in heaven, even though clothed in mortal flesh."   -St. John Bosco

"There is need for a crusade of manliness and purity to counteract and nullify the savage work of those who think man is a beast. And that crusade is your work. Many live like angels in the middle of the world. You, … why not you?" -St. Josemaria Escriva

John Paul II, St. Maria Goretti, and Sts. Mary and Joseph, please pray for us.

The First of Autumn

2009-09-23T22:15:00.007-05:00

With the start of my favorite season and the wonderful, cool, wet weather it brings, I have been inspired to write again, despite my busy schedule lately.

I have spent most of the month of September establishing my daily routine and becoming comfortable with my various classes, although I still have a couple of time-management issues to work out. Still, the semester is coming along almost on its own, and it's hard to believe it's almost the fifth week of the school year already. At this point in the semester, I have just reached the first crest where I am taking my first college exams after having finished the first units in many of my classes. On Monday, I took my first Linguistics test and tonight I took my first Anthropology test, both of which were fortunately easier than I anticipated. I've got a French project and a History test due next week as well, but if I keep knocking things out little by little, it shouldn't be too difficult.

Besides continuing my studies, I have been trying to cultivate my other interests and social network as well; I have met three inspiring religious sisters from Italy at St. Mary's who offer spiritual direction and are the closest thing to a mother I've got here, so I've finally got some real motivation to get going on learning Italian. I found some Rosetta Stone software and Pimsleur audio CDs in our library's wonderfully extensive collection and have been trying to practice regularly. As similar as it is to Spanish and French, it is still frustrating at times to realize just how separate it is as its own language, but I am thankful, in any case, for all the background knowledge I already have of the Romance languages. Hopefully, I'll be able to communicate well enough when I study abroad, and even though I plan to live in France, I'd really love to visit Italy again.

I haven't practiced piano as much as I'd have liked to, especially since I'm trying to be involved in St. Mary's music ministry, but I'm pretty sure if I'd seriously apply myself to maintaining my time-management board, I could make some time regularly to do so. I've also joined the French club here as well as Aggie International Ambassadors, so I've got quite the array of sides to go with my full, 17-hour plate.

And on another note, as a temporary, minimal time commitment going on right now, I am involved in SMAPL, or, St. Mary's Aggies Promoting Life, and our first event was attending the 40 Days for Life campaign's kickoff outside the local Planned Parenthood. 40 Days for Life is one of the most inspiring movements I've ever seen, as it is a 24-hour vigil for forty days on the sidewalk right in front of Planned Parenthood, and it's not just going on here; it has spread from Aggieland around the country and even to Denmark. I've participated in activism before by attending the annual Texas Rally for Life in Austin, but it was a different experience this time since the Planned Parenthood supporters were having their own gathering on the other side of their oppressive, black-screened fence. The director of the campaign, a former Aggie who started it right here in College Station, delivered a very moving speech in which he addressed the issue of apathy towards such a vital endeavor with a comparison to the European civilians who did nothing to aide their fellow human beings during the Holocaust. Afterward, we visited the Coalition for Life's pregnancy counseling home located strategically- and blessedly- just across the street from the abortion clinic. These photos give you a sense of the contrast between the hopeless Planned Parenthood compound and the homey, welcoming Coalition for Life Home.

It's been getting cooler and raining quite often now, which makes me happy, except for when I get wet riding from class to class. Still, it's my favorite type of weather- very conducive to writing, for me anyway- and as November draws closer at an alarming rate, I'm really going to try to get as much planning done before NaNo starts.

For now, I'm enjoying one of the best times of the year, and I hope you enjoy the video montage I found to commemorate this First of Autumn.

Babette's Feast

2009-09-06T23:04:00.004-05:00

Tonight, I had some free time, so I stopped by the library and checked out the film Babette's Feast. Before I left Austin, I was attending a bi-monthly "movie and a meal" at the home of my youth group leader with my friends from church. Unfortunately, I had to miss the last one because I was gone to Fish Camp, and I had been looking forward most of all to watching this film because it is foreign and I had heard great things about it.

After the unfortunate incident of the horror film last night (you can read my thoughts on that in the previous post), this was truly a delight to behold. Not only is the film about a literal feast, but it is a feast in itself, visually, artistically, and intellectually.

Babette's Feast is the story of how a French exile-turned-housekeeper teaches her two Puritanical, Danish hostesses and their community la joie de vivre and the true spirit of sacrificial love. After staying fourteen years with the two sisters who have provided her shelter from the civil war in France, Babette wins the lottery in Paris. But instead of returning to her home, where no one living awaits her, Babette unexpectedly- and secretly- uses her newfound wealth to prepare un vrai diner français in honor of the 100th birthday of the sisters' father, the priest and head of the village. Unbeknownst to her, the villagers are horrified at the thought of partaking in so sumptuous a meal; after all, it goes contrary to everything about their ascetic lifestyle the minister taught them. But despite their initial agreement not to take the slightest pleasure whatsoever in the meal, the townspeople cannot help but to be moved by the beauty and love that infuses the feast and end up putting aside their past quarrels in a spirit of true communion. When the sisters later discover that Babette was the chef of the fabled Café Anglais in Paris and that she spent her entire 10,000 francs on the dinner, they finally learn what it means to truly offer one's life to the service and love of God.

Two quotes from the film imprinted themselves in my heart, the first being: "An artist is never poor." Babette says this to the sisters just after she reveals that she spent her entire fortune in preparing the feast. I like it because of the irony it carries, but with that irony, such truth as well. This simple statement sums up the wealth in being a creator- it is not so much the end result, but the pursuit that brings the deepest joy; it's not in realizing the destination, but in savoring the journey there. Therein lies the true value of the creative act, and especially in this story, Babette is no "starving artist," but one who overflows with passion that fills not only her life, but spills into others'.

The second quote: "Throughout the world sounds one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me the chance to do my very best." I love the thought of living life passionately, always striving to do my very best in all that I do. It is true that it is the road less travelled, and it takes an extraordinary amount of strength to achieve such a goal, but I believe, ultimately, it is the life most fulfilling.

I enjoyed this film for many reasons: I like being able to watch foreign films in their original languages to get the true sense of the setting and to better feel the emotions being portrayed, I liked that it was set in Denmark so that I was able to learn a bit more about a place I know little about, I thought it was very interesting from an anthropological standpoint to see how the Northern Europeans- traditionally austere Protestants- got along with a the Latin, Southern European Papists and how their lifestyles and philosophies differed, but most of all I enjoyed this film for the thought it provoked, the beauty with which it was made, and the inspiration for a life better lived that it sparked within me.

After the movie ended, I could only sit in thoughtful silence as the credits rolled, deeply moved by the story I'd just witnessed. My initial impulse was to react, but after beholding such a masterpiece, it is necessary to digest a little before responding. Writing out my thoughts here has helped me do just that, and I hope that it has whetted your appetite as well.

If you ever have the opportunity to partake of this cinematographic feast, I sincerely recommend that you to watch it.

A Happy Birthday to Me

2009-09-05T23:24:00.011-05:00

I celebrated one of my most unique birthdays today. I knew it was approaching, but with all the activity surrounding the start of college, it still kind of sneaked up on me. It's hard to believe that I'm 19 years old now and that I've only one more year of being a teenager. This was the first time I was away from home and people I know on my birthday, but it still ended up being a pretty good day.

Since it's a Saturday, the campus, which is normally a swarming hive of activity during the week, was empty and silent today. So, I spent most of the morning in my room finishing reading the first act of Henry IV for my literature class and watching the last available episode of my new favorite TV show Castle on Hulu. I don't usually watch TV, especially ABC, but I really like this series because of the fascinating characterization and entertaining plot twists (and it hasn't been too dirty so far).

I somewhat wish I had planned my day earlier instead of trying to find something to do at the last minute, but going to lunch with my high school friends Meghan and Sam where one of my Fish Camp friends works was nice.

When we got back to campus, I spent about an hour in my room until my friend Evan told me that his family was tailgating before the football game tonight, and I was welcome to join them. Not having other plans and hoping not to be too lonely on my birthday, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to go out and spend the rest of the afternoon. There ended up being about 30-40 people under a combined six tents with food and games, most everyone Evan's neighbors and/or family friends from home.

And now, I have a confession to make: Tonight was my first tailgate party and football game in my life. I feel like a bad native Texan, but not having a football team in high school and belonging to a family that is not much interested in sports, I never had any reason to go to one. But there's a first time for everything, and it was probably good to experience the real deal in grand style for my first time. In Texas, football is akin to the state religion, and walking into Kyle Field really did feel like stepping into a temple dedicated to the pantheon of football players. The football game against New Mexico was exciting, but really more because of the Spirit of Aggieland. I honestly don't know what is so entertaining about four hours of watching heavy guys knock each other down and reset their positions every twenty to thirty seconds, but it is fun when one of them gets a break for it. Being a people person, I was more distracted by all the action going on around me and on the edges of the field, and I was fortunate to run into some friends up in our freshman, nosebleed section even though I couldn't meet up with my discussion group from Fish Camp. Fortunately, too, Texas A&M won 41-6, or, as we like to say here: Beat the Hell Outta UNM.

On top of this good news, I received so many kind birthday wishes from people today, and I'm thankful for so many friends who care enough to leave me a note. I especially appreciated the video from my good friend Ben.

All in all a pretty good day, except for one minor detail: When I returned to my dorm, I found my roommate hosting two friends, and as I have been writing this, they have been watching a Saw movie. I'll try not to mount the soapbox for too long, but let me just say: I despise horror movies.

I find nothing whatsoever edifying in them, and it is appalling what evils the human imagination can conceive. As a creative, artistic person, I can't support censorship, but I do very much believe in temperance and self-control. Also as an artist, I consider it my duty and my joy to use my creative talents to imitate and glorify the goodness of our own Creator, who only made what was good. This Saw movie poses under the title of "psychological thriller," but there is no point in revelling in the nightmares of the mind, especially when the protagonist provides little to no redeeming, light-bearing qualities as a foil. It seems to me barbaric to indulge in sadistic imagery simply for the shock value or for "entertainment's" sake; the Romans did the same thing 2,000 years ago when they filled the Colosseum to witness its bloody spectacles. Shouldn't we have moved on by now?

Anyway... I'm glad to have discovered a bit more of myself in this new year of my life, and I pray that the Holy Spirit will continue to guide me all the rest of the days of my life. I'm thankful for the life I have been given, and the lives He has brought into my own, and I want to take this new beginning as an opportunity to rededicate myself to His purpose.

Start of September, Second Day of Classes, and Silver Taps

2009-09-02T11:30:00.006-05:00

My second day of classes began at 8:00 with a U.S. History class I signed up for just the day before. It appears that if I take over 15 hours of credits, I don't have to pay any extra, and since I'm going to have to work later to help pay for tuition, I figured I'd save time and money by getting another core class out of the way. This bumps me up to 17 hours now, though, so I'm a little anxious about how much work that will be, but we'll find out.

My history teacher ended up reminding me of my first piano teacher; he's got an attitude, but he was sarcastically funny, and the whole lecture hall was laughing at his quips. He claims he's not a sympathetic or understanding person, so it looks like I'll have to stay on top of things in that class.

After history, I had about a two hour break until my next class, so I filled it by watching the first of my Anthropology lectures online. It was pretty interesting stuff, and I was glad to see that the professor seems just as witty and amusing on camera as he did in person on Monday night.

When it was time to go, I packed up my things and went over to a nearby building for my Shakespeare Literature class. I hadn't expected it to be in a huge lecture hall because it's not a freshman class, but it was neat that I have both my junior friend Sam and my fellow INTS major Evan in that class, too. The professor himself spoke kind of slowly (he says he is hard of hearing), but he is clearly passionate about what he teaches, and he seems like a nice guy, although he did pull a very clever joke on us in an illustration about how we should be skeptical about Shakespeare's characters.

I was going to meet Evan down on the southside for lunch after he retrieved something from his apartment, but on the way over, I happened across Fr. David and the sisters from St. Mary's, accompanied by a couple older students I met this last weekend. They had just finished celebrating mass in the nearby All Faith's Chapel and were going to lunch at Sbisa together, so of course I got off my bike and joined them. It was a pleasant little surprise, and I love one of the sisters, Sister Raffaella, whom I have already gotten to know a bit and who has taken me under her wing. It also gave me the opportunity to introduce my friend Meghan to her since she had not yet met them. Apparently they celebrate mass every Tuesday at noon there and eat lunch afterwards, so I will have to look out for them in the future.

Getting back to my original schedule, I made it all the way down to Commons (which is quite far from the north side of campus where I live) and sat with Evan and a couple of his friends for a bit before they had to leave for classes. I, on the other hand, had several hours of time to spare, so I wandered into the basement in search of the fabled piano. It turns out it was occupied by choral auditions at the time, so I went upstairs and read my linguistics article in the meantime until I had to leave for my Antarctica seminar.

One of the things I love about A&M is how you can just run into people you know anywhere on campus, which really makes the place seem like a small town, even though there are almost 50,000 students here. I mention this because outside of the Commons, I met my friend and fellow INTS major Katie from Fish Camp. After talking to her for a few minutes, I made my way to the Oceanography and Meteorology building where I was introduced to my small seminar taught by two scientists who have visited Antarctica multiple times. I am very excited to learn about this fascinating continent, and the time-lapse video they showed us of summer and winter there were stunningly beautiful.

That night, I met my friend Lara and our fellow classmate Abbie to help them with their French homework since they don't have the book yet. It was really nice to be able to help someone with a subject I love and feel confident about, and it's really nice to know two other people who also know Spanish and love drawing connections between the two languages.

When that was done, we went together to the first Silver Taps of the year. Silver Taps is an event held on the first Tuesday of each month to honor Aggies who have died while they were currently enrolled at the school. It was a pretty surreal experience, but it gives you that much more of an idea of the strength of this school's community.

During the ceremony, the entire campus's lights are extinguished, and everyone walks in silence to the Academic Plaza, where one waits in the darkness, just listening to the bell tower playing mournful, traditional hymns. Then, one hears the slow, measured step of the Corps of Cadets approaching. In a moment, they appear as ethereal phantoms marching rigidly towards the center of the plaza, the pale moonlight reflecting off their white uniforms and glinting off the guns.

Then, one waits in silence for what seems like an eternity until the silence is shattered by the sharp report of a 21-gun salute, after which "Taps" is played on only whole notes three times: once to the north, once to the south, and once to the west, but not to the east because it is said that the sun will never rise on those Aggies' faces again.

It was a very sobering experience, but I'm glad I had the opportunity already to take part in yet another of this school's many, rich traditions, and although I'm feeling a little more tired lately, I think it's just the adjustment from summer idleness to a rigorous workload and full schedule, and I think I'm going to do well here.

Annnnd... They're Off!

2009-08-31T23:46:00.005-05:00

Today was my first day of university classes ever. Prior to coming to Texas A&M, the only college experience I had was the 5-week semester of French I I took two summers ago.

It was a little like the first day of seventh grade all over again; you know that feeling. Nervousness about getting lost. Will my teachers be nice? How will the other kids in the class be? Did I forget anything? If you think getting turned lose in the big world of high school, where you are no longer escorted to class by a teacher and you have to keep up with your own assignments is nerve-wracking, you can expect that finding your way to your very first classes ever as a university student in a huge campus with 50,000 people could be a mite more intimidating. Add keeping track of not only when and where all your classes are, when assignments and tests are due, but also balancing a daily planner of social and religious engagements, and you can bet it's a period of intense and quick growth in the maturity department.

Fortunately, my first class was not until 12:40 (I'm not lazy, it just worked out that way; I'm getting up for an 8:00 AM history class tomorrow), so I had plenty of time to prepare, and it's a good thing I did. Gig 'Em Week has been immensely helpful in finding my way around here, so it was hardly a matter of finding the right building, although the paranoid part of me was worried the schedule or map might be wrong.

After fiddling with my backpack, which turned out to be huge and kind of clunky, and making sure I had all my textbooks, then checking out my bike, which was just brought up yesterday, to make sure it was working properly and to get the hang of it again, I left very early to have some time to look inside the All Faiths Chapel on campus not far from my dorm. I had heard there is a piano inside, and I had the opportunity to sit and play for the first time here for a few minutes. It proved to be very therapeutic, and I was glad that the songs I can play from memory/by ear were a medley of hymns. It was nice to remember that as chaotic as my life has suddenly become, I can always find a center and refuge in God, who is always unchanging.

After I played "It Is Well With My Soul," "How Great Thou Art," and "In The Garden" (all of which are very appropriate for finding solace amidst loneliness and confusion), I arrived an hour early at the building where my French class was to be held. While waiting, I communicated with Austin's municipal liaison for NaNoWriMo about some planning processes for this November, and it was nice to be reconnected with a friend from home about an event I love.

I'm glad to say that my first class ever at Texas A&M University was my French III class; a couple of things made it a positive way to start off the year: First of all, my professor is a very nice woman who seems very dedicated to her job. She spoke in French to us the whole time, but I could understand most everything, which was extremely helpful in boosting my self-confidence. Secondly, my friend Lara whom I haven't seen for three years is also in the class, so having a friend helped make it a little less frightening. And lastly, I love the French language, and I'm so eager to continue studying it as part of my International Studies major, so it was a pleasant and engaging way to begin classes here.

I went to lunch with Meghan and one of her friends before heading to my Introduction to Linguistics class, which consisted mainly of receiving the syllabus. It is a larger lecture-type class, but the professor seems capable, and the syllabus has piqued my interest in regards to what we'll be studying.

Lastly, I went to a meeting led by my Anthropology professor to get his syllabus and learn more about the online course he has set up en lieu of a traditional, lecture-type class. I'm not sure what was wrong with the other students in there, but I thought he was hilarious. He seems like a very interesting, knowledgeable man (who has apparently been working here for almost 40 years). My favorite part of the whole thing was when he said that he thought it important that we study the future of human interactions, especially with regards to the Middle East, since my generation will be making the decisions, but he planned to "check out of the place before it all blows up." I hope he is just as witty, amusing, and engaging in his video lectures. The topic sounds absolutely intriguing.

And fortunately, the meeting was shorter than I had expected, so I was able to catch the end of the meeting at St. Mary's for people interested in the music ministry. The director is such a friendly, welcoming guy, and I am very excited to work with him. On top of that, I had the good fortune to meet two other very talented pianists (and they're Catholic! :D), so it looks like the start of a good friendship (albeit, a possibly competitive one!)

All in all, a good day and a good start to what will hopefully be a good school year. Now I've just got to get up at 8:00 tomorrow for a U.S. History class and then my Shakespeare Lit. class...

Meditation on the Feast of St. Monica

2009-08-27T21:34:00.004-05:00

This week has been so full of activity that I can hardly remember everything I've done, but it has been a great opportunity to get to really know my way around campus and meet new people. I'm really starting to settle into my new home.

Home: how strange to have lived in the same place for my whole life and now to call elsewhere by the same name. But as I'm in International Studies and I hope to travel and live in Europe someday, I suppose I'll have to get used to calling many places home, though I suspect nowhere is quite like home except when we die and reach our true Home.

Speaking of which, today I visited St. Mary's Catholic Center here, which is fortuitously just across the street from where I live. It is literally within walking distance and is as far or closer than many other places I have walked to on campus. Having spent most of the day at the library with my friend Meghan, I had decided to stop by the anthropology building to check on a class that is still up in the air and realised that I was not far from the church, and it was 4:30 so I might be able to make it in time for confession.

Stepping into a Catholic church is always a restorative experience for me. While each one may appear completely different from another, they all share the same hushed, otherworldly atmosphere of divinity-come-to-earth, the gateway between caelum et terra. It is so reassuring to be able to go anywhere in the world and to be able to step out of the world into another realm where one can truly feel a part of the Communion of Saints across not only space, but across time as well. And with the constant bustle and activity around campus during this transitory week, when many things are changing, it was a true Godsend to be able to find a sanctuary of peace amidst the chaos, and a place that I can just as surely call home as I can my parish in Austin.

I truly believe that it was no chance incident that I visited St. Mary's today. It happens that August 27 is the feast day of St. Monica, mother to the great and much more famous St. Augustine, whose feast day is tomorrow and whose Confessions I have been reading recently, and her story is an interesting and inspiring one, to be sure.

You see, St. Augustine was not always the holy man he eventually became, and it was only due to the grace of God through the prayers of his mother for thirty years that he abandoned his immoral lifestyle and became a baptised Christian. But beyond even this, St. Monica earlier in life broke her drinking habits when she was accused of being a drunk by a servant, and she later developed a reputation for being an excellent listener and peacemaker.

All this is to say that I could not help but feel that she played a special role in my seemingly spontaneous urge to visit St. Mary's today to receive the sacrament of Reconciliation and afterward attend daily mass. And just at a critical point of transition in my life when I'm becoming a young adult like her own son, charged with making my own decisions now. In the short time I've lived here, I've already had to turn down four invitations to parties where I knew there would be drinking, and given the close quarters in which we students live now, there are bound to be disagreements, so I feel especially thankful for the witness of St. Monica to truly be an instrument of peace amidst a "crooked and perverse generation."

I'll close with a short quote by the great woman herself as she was lying on her deathbed speaking to her beloved Augustine:

My son, as to me, I no longer find any pleasure in this life. What more I have to do here and why I am still here I do not know, since I have no longer anything to hope for in this world. There was only one reason why I wanted to stay a little longer in this life, and that was that I should see you a Catholic before I died. Now God has granted me this beyond my hopes. For I see that you have despised the pleasures of this world and have become his servant. So what am I doing here?

"For I see that you have despised the pleasures of this world and have become his servant." That I might be able to live up to such words myself someday I can not only hope, but try.

St. Monica, pray for us.

Welcome to Life

2009-08-24T15:37:00.001-05:00

On Sunday, I moved into my dorm and officially began my life as a college student. It has been a really surreal experience, not just for me, but for my friends from high school who are also at A&M with me: one day, we were talking about college being in the distant future, and now, it is finally here. It's difficult not to still feel like a high school student sometimes, though, but knowing that all the other freshman are in the same boat, coupled with the genuine friendliness of the place, makes the transition into this new stage of life much easier.

On Monday, I woke up at around 8:00 because my feet were freezing (unfortunately there is not a thermostat in my room; don't know who planned that one), and after a breakfast of dry cereal and a cereal bar- as I don't have milk yet since the refrigerator was just plugged in yesterday- I set out with my classmates from high school to pick up our textbooks and explore the surrounding shopping areas near the school and ended up discovering that there is quite a wide range of retail stores and restaurants in otherwise small College Station.

We came back for lunch at the dining center nearest our dorms (we all conveniently live near each other and the main avenue for shopping in College Station) and then split up for an afternoon rest in our rooms. During that time, my excitement was beginning to wane ever so slightly as the shadow of realism set in, and I began to feel quite overwhelmed as I consulted my schedule and wrote all of my known social events for the next month into my weekly planner. While doing that, I received a text from my discussion group leader from Fish Camp as well as my older friend Sam, a junior here, letting me know there was free barbeque and a movie on the quad. However, it was beginning to thunder and rain lightly, so I opted to go with my classmate Trever to a cheap chicken place called Layne's instead, where he was having dinner with his own discussion group.

It turned out to be the wiser decision, I think, because I ended up sitting across from a senior International Studies major who happened to be going to France this semester to study abroad. I had a fascinating conversation with this extremely amicable girl about the major and other similar interests and ended up with yet another contact and friend at the university.

As if the day hadn't been busy enough as it was, at 10:30 that night, my high school friends and I got on a charter bus loaded with other freshmen to go to a promotional at Target, which ended up being chaotic and kind of a waste of time, except for the freebies we received. Basically, the College Station Target was closed to the general public, but packed with college freshman lured in by the opportunity to win stuff in a free raffle and the "discounted" prices. I'm not sure how the managers managed to keep people from just stealing things, but after a short visit, we promptly returned to the buses and back to our dorms.

Universal Studios, Queen Mary, and Hollywood

2009-08-04T11:57:00.018-05:00

I had expected Universal Studios to have even more thrilling rides than Disneyland, but disappointingly, they only have a few "rides," and I found them to be so-so. The Mummy rollercoaster was intense, but too short, and the Jurassic Park flume ride was more annoying than fun with the various dinosaurs constantly squirting us with water from their mouths.

Still, the shows there were really good, especially the tour of the studios and backlot, where you're never quite sure what is going to happen next. The animal actors show was also entertaining, and the "Backdraft" presentation about creating pyrotechnics wasn't exactly educational but still interesting, as was the presentation about creating special effects thanks to the wit of our "host."

While we were making our way towards one of the shows in the park, an unexpected boon befell us. A young woman approached us asking if we would be interested in sampling frozen beverages (like Icees or slushes). Normally, we would avoid such solicitation, but it was hot, we got free cold drinks that few other people have yet tasted, and in addition, they'd throw in a coupon worth five dollars for anything in the park. I'm technically not allowed to disclose any informaion about what I tasted, but of the five different Icee type drinks I tried, most of them were pretty good, including (surprisingly) a sugar free one that was just as good as any regular drink I've had. When all was said and done, it was a welcome relief from the heat outisde as I got to sit in an air conditioned office overlooking the walk below for about twenty to thirty minutes and try free frozen slushies.

Since our visit to Universal Studios took only one day instead of the two we had planned for, we took the next day to visit the Queen Mary, a retired cruise ship from the Cunard line (the same one as the Titanic) whose life spanned the decades from the 1930s-1960s.

Upon boarding the ship (which is massive, by the way), we first took the "Ghosts and Legends" tour, which takes you through the swimming pool room (where supposedly the water never drains from the floor of the pool no matter how many times they pump or mop it out), the boiler room (by far the creepiest room of the ship; we descended in an elevator about 36 feet below the waterline outside. Basically, I was standing on a metal walkway four feet off the very bottom of the ship's hull in a vast, very dark room where the boilers used to be.) Of course, they tell you that everything is based on reported sightings and encounters with the paranormal, as the ship is haunted, but everything that happened to us was clearly rigged up to freak us out, such as when the previously damaged bow of the ship began "flooding" with water from outside and we "evacuated" the chamber.

For the rest of the day, we sauntered around the various decks, exploring the ship and watching a nearby modern cruise ship load its passengers and luggage at an adjacent dock. To end our stay on the Queen Mary- which, incidentally is also an hotel, although we didn't stay in it, for which I'm glad- a character by the name of James led us on a guided tour of the ship and explained its various uses throughout history, from cruise ship to battleship during World War II.

Oh, and I can't neglect to mention my short visit to The Scorpion, a real, Soviet-era submarine docked right beside the Queen Mary. If you're ever visiting the ship, don't bother with the sub, as it is cramped, hot, and- most unnerving- "still in operational condition." I had to pity the poor Russian immigrants who work the tacky giftshop full of Cold War-era junk with various Russian words on everything, and I'm still not sure how the United States obtained the submarine.

Our last time spent in So Cal was in Hollywood. To put it bluntly, Hollywood is overrated. It was cool to see the sign on the hill and to walk along the walk of stars and visit the Chinese theater, but the walk of stars is like being in downtown Austin, where it's hot and dirty, not to mention there are a lot of weird people wandering around.

And you know something's wrong when you see Elmo and Barney, complete with little children asking for autographs, flanking the Playboy bunny. Funny, but true.

The houses on the drive up the hill toward the Hollywood sign were ok, but you can tell they're old, and personally, I didn't care for the style of many of them.

We did dine out in style in Beverly Hills (8 miles from where we were staying in kind of the ghetto) since my mom works for Houston's and gets free food at any location. Beverly Hills was pretty nice, and even though it was getting pretty dark, we still managed to see some very nice homes before returning to the hotel.

Probably the most interesting thing that happened while we were there was walking right into the filming of the ABC series Brothers and Sisters at the observatory not too far from the Hollywood Sign. We were very surprised to discover how close we could be to the action, and although Sally Field wasn't there, we did see Calista Flockhart and Matthew Rhys.

Our time in beautiful Southern California come to and end, we proceeded to drive up to San Francisco.

Disney's in the Details

2009-07-29T17:44:00.005-05:00

Walking out of the Los Angeles airport, my first impression was "Oh my gosh, it doesn't feel like I'm walking into an oven!" And the flowers and landscaping everywhere were just gorgeous. Southern California definitely lived up to its reputation for beauty, and it was hard for a native Texan like me to get my mind around the idea that a midsummer could actually feel pleasant.

Disneyland touts itself as "the happiest place on Earth" and I have to say that the people who work there put an extraordinary amount of effort into the minutest details in order to ensure that happy atmosphere. The park was remarkably clean, and the scenery, fake though most of it was, was still very realistic. Moving from one themed section to another, one could notice the difference in art styles. Even the employees working rides, serving in restaurants, and just walking the streets, each had distinctive costumes to accompany whatever area they were currently in.

In the California Adventure park, my brother rode his first roller coaster, although I thought it wasn't as intense as the Superman at Fiesta Texas.

Besides the rides, whose lines were often long but moved more quickly than I'd expected, the street shows that would randomly show up were excellently done, too, even if sometimes a little corny, especially the High School Musical 3 one.

One of the most interesting things that I had never expected was how many francophones I crossed in my entire trip. The first was a Québecoise woman and her family who happened to be eating dinner at the table behind ours at one of the outdoor restaurants in the Adventure Park. Hesitant at first, I decided to throw caution to the winds and inquired (in French) if I'd heard her speaking French, to which she replied yes and explained where her family was from and that her daughter does not yet speak English.

Disneyland exceeded my expectations, and I spent three very fun and pleasant days there with my family. It was even... inspiring. As cheesy as Disney can be sometimes, watching the spectacular choreographed fireworks show set to familiar classic Disney songs, or observing the detailed landscaping, or visiting the Animation Academy and being surrounded by huge screens cycling through some of the greatest Disney films ever made made me want to create and tell stories just as imaginative and inspiring as well. And I'm a sucker for a happy ending, so it's nice to know that in the midst of a dark, cynical world, dreams really do come true and there are happily ever afters if we look for them hard enough.

God Bless America

2009-07-04T19:09:00.004-05:00

Today, I got up later than I had planned, although I still had enough time to get to FourthFest in time to help with the library's booth there. I'd never been to Wells Branch's annual Independence Day celebration, and I was shocked when I turned onto the street to find it practically blocked with cars parked along the curbs for nearly a block from the park and spilling into side streets on top of that! As crowded as it was, one of the ladies selling food there mentioned that it was "fairly tame" compared to previous years.

I spent the next two hours helping with the information/craft table we had set up (mercifully in the air conditioned community center, even if it had little traffic compared to the rest of the park).

As hot as it was, when I went home, I couldn't help but reflect on what a beautiful summer day it was to celebrate something as precious as freedom and what a beautiful country we live in. I won't speak for everyone, but I realize that I often take our liberty for granted, and I was truly grateful for the security I enjoy to worship, work, and play without fear of starvation, armed militia invading my community and home, lethal diseases, and a myriad of other fears that plague most of the rest of the world.

As I have watched my country steadily decline over the past couple of years, financially and in regards to the integrity of its political system, I have often wondered where this nation will be fifty, twenty, ten, even five years down the road. As many problems as she may have, though, America has proven herself to be a great nation in the past- and I still believe she is- and I hope she will continue to show and share that greatness and grace with which God has so blessed her with the rest of the world.

Fun At Barnes and Noble

2009-07-01T23:24:00.004-05:00

Today, I got up to find it raining again. We desperately need it, so that was a welcome sight, and it made for the perfect day to go out to La Madeleine and Barnes and Noble with two friends. We played around with our Macbook cameras- annoying some of the crankier patrons around us- but it was a fun time out for the day.

After playing some Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros, I took them home and ate dinner, planning on continuing brainstorming with Holly Lisle's Create a Plot Clinic. I ended up getting distracted with chatting via webcam with my friend, but we had fun playing Pictionary with our dry-erase boards.

The evening didn't turn out to be totally unproductive, though, as I was able to come up with some more plot ideas while showing her how I brainstorm via screen-sharing. I'm really starting to produce some interesting concepts for this story, but I still have virtually no idea how they will all fit as a cohesive story.

Shards of the Storm is still coming along, but very slowly as I am still rereading the manuscript for the first time to reacquaint myself with the general storyline, but this plotting workshop works for works-in-progress as well, so once I familiarize myself with it again, I'll probably begin working on that on the side as I try to prepare for NaNo in November. I'm gonna need all the preparation I can get because I can already tell it's going to be one of my busiest Novembers yet being the start of college.

Heading out to continue plotting. More progress bars will be up soon.

It's Raining!

2009-06-30T09:15:00.003-05:00

I woke up today to hear thunder and soft rain on the roof outside. This is momentous because for the last half of this month, it has been at least 100 degrees Fahrenheit (often more like 104) every day.

Also saw Celtic Woman perform on Good Morning, America this morning as well. I wasn't aware of their new tour, which is pretty much over at this point, but apparently they're doing their next concert at the end of next month back in Ireland.

I'm off to go take a shower, but I swear today I'm going to push ahead on brainstorming plot ideas. Also pulled out my manuscript that I haven't read since February for edits, so hopefully I'll begin editing that too, and the bar will start moving.

Summer Time, When the Livin' is Easy

2009-06-29T15:52:00.003-05:00

Today, I was finally able to go out with a friend for coffee and just catch up, not having seen each other for the past month. I was recently inspired to have a face-to-face encounter instead of merely updating her via Facebook by the book The Art of Conversation by Catherine Blyth, which I happened across at the library where I work.

Speaking of the library, after a short, four-day stint working a truly unpleasant job in a warehouse sorting laptop parts for nine hours a day, I was fortunate enough to regain my old job at the library where I've worked off and on for the last three years to pay for my Europe trip. My coworkers were all very happy to have me back, and it was good to be back where I knew everyone and how things run there. I also discovered something important about myself in that I am willing to work for less pay if it means a happier environment that is more fulfilling, and I do have the strength to change my situation instead of passively letting life take me where it will.

Summer is passing by much too quickly (it's already practically July!) and unfortunately, I have gotten no writing done at all. But that's my own fault for being lazy and setting no goals. The only positive thing I can say in regards to that is that I have almost finished drawing the map for one of the story ideas floating around in my head, but as far as nailing down a real plot for any of them? That's still gotta happen, and hopefully soon.

Summer is Here

2009-05-28T11:42:00.002-05:00

This morning, I got up at around 9:45 (yay for sleeping in on summer vacation!) and promptly discovered that our water is turned off. It is now two hours later, and I still haven't been able to take a shower yet. Apparently, our neighbor down the street has a pipe that broke, and so the city has shut off the water for our street while they repair it. Fortunately, they have responded fairly promptly, and as I'm writing this, they are outside digging up the road and repairing the broken line.

Anyway, despite this interesting start to summer vacation, it has presented me with a prompt already, as the first thing I thought after trying to turn the water on was "What if... an entire city's water supply dried up just before the summer and it's not a matter of WILL they turn the water back on but CAN they?" (a scary thought for a native Texan who has lived through 17 searing summers here).

Anyway, I'm grateful for this sign that my Muse is still alive (haven't heard from her in a while) since I'm hoping to really get going with a writing discipline now that I'm out of school. Hopefully, that bar down there will start doing something.

And on a side note, while I've been waiting for the water to come back on, I happened to run across the French Open on TV. It was more that it's in Paris than that I'm a huge tennis fan that caught my eye, but I actually played tennis several summers ago and forgot how fun it was. It made me laugh when the audience did the wave, or as the French might call it "la vague."

Freedom!

2009-05-27T23:12:00.001-05:00

Today was my last day of high school.

While many of my classmates still need to take their final exams on Thursday and Friday, I, fortunately, am able to be exempt from all of mine. These last two days were "review days" (a.k.a. a complete waste of time), but I had to be present at school both yesterday and today in order to qualify for the exemption.

I had a fairly uneventful day for most of the morning, spent mostly talking with my classmates as most of our teachers did not do much reviewing. Lunch was nice, too, as I went off-campus with my newspaper class to Chuy's for our end of the year party. Got to talk with my good friend, Ben and then had a leisurely ten minutes to spare upon returning to school.

When the bell rang at 3:30, I walked out of the doors as if it was any other normal day, went to the car and left. And that was that. No fanfare. No cheering. No epic music.

Of course, all of that is saved for graduation next week. But as much as I have been anticipating this day, it still felt kind of sad. Of course, it's a great relief, too, but after 13 years of education, it's still hard to believe that the final day has arrived.

It's a La-La-La Lovely Day

2009-05-25T16:41:00.007-05:00

Lately, I have been in a strange, discombobulated state, unfortunately most of which has been a bout of depression. It's too complicated to describe here, but I chalk it up to subconscious anxiety about the near future with me going to college in a few months and all, assessing where I am now, where I've been, how I could have done things differently, ironing out the crinkles in relationships with friends who will also be going through this transitory phase with me, and just trying to make the most of these last fleeting moments of a major chapter in my life's story.

Phew. With all of that said, though, I'm happy to say that the cloud has passed; for now, at least. This weekend started off the real summer season, as I had a great time at our school's Jazz Under the Stars event on Friday night after a fun day at Six Flags (with a miracle I attribute to St. Anthony to top it all off). Yesterday, I spent practically all day with my best friends from church making our end of the year video and then eating at KFC together before swimming in the rain and watching Changeling, which is a very sad movie, though it makes you think about the importance of justice.

And today was simply glorious and relaxing. After going out to breakfast at a little café/bakery with my mom, I suggested going swimming again on facebook and ended up going to the pool again with my two friends. The weather today was just gorgeous and it was really a beautiful, tranquil afternoon to just lay around by the pool and swim in the bright sunlight. I'm not really upset that I have to go to school for two more days (my last two days of high school ever!), but having the day off really made me feel like it's time for summer vacation.

Stirrings

2009-04-19T11:11:00.003-05:00

Like the lyrics to one of my favorite songs from Wicked, "Defying Gravity" say,

"Something has changed within me,
Something is not the same.
I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game.
Too late for second guessing,
Too late to go back to sleep.
It's time for me to trust my instincts, close my eyes...
And leap."

I'm not sure what exactly brings about the changes that occur within us, and to be sure, most of the time they're pretty gradual. But I've noticed in my own life, in various situations, whether it was learning French or piano, or even just how I see things, I can almost always tell where I "plateau" and when I move up to the next step.

So, I think it's been a culmination of a lot of stuff just stirring all together within me (I restrain my emotions so that it feels like a storm inside me sometimes, but this isn't good) and after an... interesting... conversation with one of my closest friends, I feel like... my shell has cracked just a little bit.

Most of my life, people have expected me to behave a certain way; that is, a little more mature and perceptive than most of the other people my age. And to an extent, I sort of like my role of being the one people can rely on for being steady or level-headed.

But... I think I have always felt so restrained within that box of reputation or whatever you want to call it that I have missed out somewhat on some of what the French call la joie de vivre or "the joy of living." So as I start a new stage of my life going to college in a few months, I'm determined not to lose sense of what has grounded me for so long, but at the same time to just let go and live life for a change instead of forever standing on the sidelines watching other people.

When in Rome...

2009-03-13T23:44:00.003-05:00

*The following entry was taken from my travelogues of my Spring Break trip to Europe

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Today we woke up early in order to beat the crowds at the Vatican. After a fairly good breakfast and a chilly wait outside the walls of Vatican City, we began our tour guided by a wonderful fellow named Jean-Pierre. Fortunately, he was speaking into a radio transmitter the whole time so we could always hear him in our earpieces no matter how far away he got.

At first, I was a little bit disappointed and frustrated because it felt like eeryeone was in in everyone else's way as we all tried to take pictures of too many objects in a long, narrow hallways. But after we arrived in the Sistine Chapel (la Capella Sistina), it was a whole different experience. There isn't much warning whenever you are about to enter a significant new area, but in a way this is good because you are completely taken by the suddent new surroundings. The Sistine Chapel was both larger and smaller than I expected-- well, longer lengthwise and shorter height-wise-- although the ceiling was still fairly high, I could still see the paintings clearly. It was like being in an enormous, vividly-colored box that contained-- as Jean-Pierre called it-- "the story of humanity."

Coming out of the crypt, you have no idea that you're climbing a narrow staircase directly into St. Peter's Basilica itself. As I told our guide, "C'è troppo bello per parole:" "It's too beautiful for words."

Really, the enormity of the building and the sheer majesty and splendor of the decorations are awe-inspiring, literally breath-taking. I'm not much of an emotional person, but it was really so gloriously beautiful that I wanted to cry. The size of everything makes you feel very insignificant, especially with how many people are there, too, yet the knowledge that I was standing at the very heart of Catholicism, my Church-- literally built upon the bones of St. Peter-- made me feel completely at home with my place in history and the world, especially when so many other people from all over the world are drawn by such a reflection of His beauty to Jesus, our Light.

It was very frustrating seeing the pitiful results of our attempts to capture such beauty on our cameras-- it's just too much for the eyes to take in-- but I suppose the true beauty we can take away is not any mere photos, but our lives lived for Christ.

If only we had had more than twenty minutes in there! But we had to continue to Il Colosseo, another astoundingly enormous structure. Unfortunately, there isn't much to see there and the place was flooded with tourists, but the beauty of such a place lies more in the knowledge that you are standing in the same place-- almost breathing the same air-- as the people thousands of years ago. As you sweep your gaze around the ruins, you can almost hear the ghosts of hte crowds roaring in excitement, their cries still echoing off the very same walls today.

We spent the rest of the day basically walking the lengh of Rome back to the hotel, seeing such sights as the Forum, the Pantheon, St. Agnes' Basilica in la Piazza Navola (containing her skull), and generally just enjoying soaking up glorious Roma.

On the last leg of our journey, we could not find the train we needed to take, but a very kind, helpful authority of public transportation assisted us. He spoke virtually no English, but thanks to my rudimentary Romance language skills, his generosity, and God's providence, I was able to interpret just enough, and he was apparently so taken with my efforts to communicate in Italian that he secured a bus to drop us off at our hotel door for free! It was a challenge and an adventure, but as difficult as it was, the more I act as an interpreter, the more I know this is what I want to do, and I cannot wait until we get to France. Tomorrow, though, is my last chance to practice l'Italiano in Florence.

Rome!

2009-03-12T23:02:00.000-05:00

*The following entry was taken from my travelogues about my Spring Break trip to Europe
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I am just now finally believing that it's actually true: I am finally in Europe! And in Rome to be specific. After a long flight, we have at last arrived in the Eternal City. Getting through the airport was an adventure in itself, though nothing out of the ordinary happened except my fifteen minute wait for food at McDonald's in Atlanta.

The plane was enormous! The biggest one I've ever been on, and although the flight was uncomfortable, I had painted a far worse picture in my head than the actual experience. It is more fun to travel with friends, and there was even a nice Italian mother with two little boys returning to Rome who spoke with us. The coastline and landscape were just stunningly gorgeous in the sunrise at our descent.

I felt a little disheveled and unsettled after such a long trip, but none the worse for wear (except that my stomach slightly pained me from hunger), we were soon driving through a bit of Italian suburbs before reaching Rome herself.

I cannot even begin to describe such a city. It is such an odd yet charming blend of la bella vita and the hectic hustle and bustle of one of the world's great capitals. The drivers are amusing like entertainment while you wait in traffic, as they constantly seek any opening in their tiny little Fiats, Mercedes, and Citroëns, all of which look like variants on the same theme: small, compact hatchbacks. But it is the motorcycle drivers who are the most daring, weaving between lanes whenever they get a chance. And everybody parks in the most haphazard, laughable ways, squeezing in a smart car with Vespas on a curb or just double-parallel parking within the traffic lane.

The Italians themselves are not as welcoming or amiable as I'd hoped or expected, although they do appreciate efforts to speak Italiano, and I did have two kind gentlemen interact with me, the fist of which sold me an Italia shirt for 5 euros and the other, a customer behind us at the grocery store who helped us with the cashier.

However, while I had a few positive experiences trying to communicate in my fourth tongue, it is often the times that things go wrong-- distressing though they be at the time-- that make the most interesting stories.

For example, while I was minding my own business trying to teach two of my friends how to say "I don't speak Italian," a group of three boys my age walked past and pointed at me, saying, "Non parlo Italiano" in a mocking manner. Weird, but I doubt they "parlano inglese" themselves.

Then there was the merchant who seemed to think I was shoplifting his postcards, when i was in fact replacing the magnet i did not wish to buy. Ater a little lingual tango, we figured it out and I was on my way.

But then, on a second trip to the little grocery store-- this time with four different people than my earlier excursion-- something mortifying happened: I was already a little uneasy getting in the way of the Italian shoppers while one of the mothers in our group took pictures of us holding varaints of our own foods found here, but after a seemingly smooth checkout, my friend was being stupid with his money belt at just the moment this particular mom took a photograph. The lady from the pharmacy who was walking by began speaking very rapidly and very angrily to her in Italian before returning to her desk to page a manager. By now, they had closed the door so that no one could leave while they continued rattling on incoherently. By this time, I finally stepped in and put my fledgling interpreting skills to the test by asking if she spoke English-- she did not, of course-- then explaining that we did not speak Italian either.

Fortunately, the lady behind the meat counter spoke a little bit of English, and she politely but firmly commanded our photographer to "cancel" the photo. Somehow, she became convinced, and we were allowed to leave, miraculously. Trying to retain a shred of dignity, I could only say, "Mi dispiace, signora" and "buonna notte."

Good evening, indeed.

Traveling Life's Road Together

2009-02-21T19:24:00.005-06:00

Today was a busy day. I woke up at 5:00 to get ready before leaving for College Station with my family and some friends to attend Texas A&M's open house "Aggieland."
After a bit of a late start, we set off, my family in one car, my friend's mom and fiancee in another, and the three of us guys in another.

The morning passed fairly quickly after taking a "tour" of one of the dorms and listening to the assistant dean of the College of Liberal Arts in a question and answer session.

Lunch was... underwhelming. While the lady in charge of the food services was extremely helpful, showcasing the famous Aggie friendliness to the people in line, I have to say that I was rather nonplussed with the sweet and sour pork and fried rice. It wasn't bad, really, but Panda Express- cheap, Americanized-Chinese food that it is- tastes better. Interestingly, my fortune said: "A good friendship is worth more than a passionate romance."

I say interestingly because even though our parents accompanied us on the way to College Station, we three amigos made our own way back to Austin, free from the stifling presence of our families to get to know each other better as friends.

We ended up making a fairly large circuit in the middle of east-central Texas before getting our bearings straight, but it was more fun than frustrating because it gave us more time together and the opportunity to find our own way. Such a shared experience lent itself to our feeling of independence and camaraderie as young men about to set out on our own-- yet together-- in life, starting with this "roadtrip."

Throughout the 2+ hour drive back home, we talked about a lot of different things, mostly about people we know and our plans for college, and it turned out to be an enjoyable time spent together, especially our dinner at McDonald's when we talked about religion and our high school. After this stop, I took the wheel, which was an unusual feeling because of the trust I felt from my friend's mom (the owner of the vehicle) as well as my friends themselves at asking me to drive.

Now, I would consider these two guys as my friends, but up until now in the most distant meaning of the word. They've been my classmates since 6th grade, but they have known each other their whole lives and are practically like brothers. However, at this point, I felt the most welcomed into the circle I have ever felt.

I have to note that I am normally a very reserved person, and most of the time, I do not relate much to my classmates. I know more people I would call acquaintances than friends, and it is difficult for me to build rapport with people my own age.

That said, this trip was special because I felt a new sense of acceptance and belonging from two people I have always wanted to know better. We had the most open and honest discussion between the three of us I can ever remember, and the entire experience drew us closer together as friends who are entering into the daunting, uncharted new waters of adulthood, but who have each other for strength.

It is the rare, and surprising, times like these that I am glad to say that I have been blessed with good friends, and I'm very thankful for our experience today. I hope that this is the start of a new, deeper relationship between us, and I'm excited and grateful to have two such people with me as I start a new chapter of life.

The African Children's Choir

2009-01-29T22:00:00.002-06:00

Tonight, I had the pleasure and honor to see the African Children's Choir perform in Austin. I had heard of the group before because I knew they had appeared with Josh Groban on television, but amazingly despite their fame, the concert was free at a small Presbyterian church in town.

The singing and dancing these children do is absolutely amazing and touching. If you don't know the story behind the choir, it is comprised of some of the most needy children from Africa, often orphans, who perform around the world to raise money for their education and to serve as ambassadors for the masses of other destitute African children. They go on to secondary education, and beyond that, to receive degrees which they use to help their native continent move out of the cycle of poverty and violence.

The exuberance and joyful hope of these children is astounding and contagious. Despite all their hardships at such a young age, truly, these children know the meaning of Jesus' words when he said that one must be like a little child to enter the kingdom of heaven.

If you ever have the opportunity to see this wonderful group, do not miss it. You will be blessed and touched long afterward by these children.

Giving Blood: The First Time

2009-01-28T17:05:00.002-06:00

Today, I gave blood for the first time. The only other time I have had my blood removed from my body in a medical context was last year when I had it tested for stuff I can't even remember; nothing serious.

Remembering that the syringe pulling my blood out felt a little fiery, and not exactly looking with fond memories on the needle used to do it, I was, shall we say, rather apprehensive about doing this. Actually, when the signup sheet for the blood drive was put up several days ago, I had practically resolved not to do it at all.

However, thanks to a lot of positive peer pressure from almost all of my classmates who donated blood throughout the day, I finally worked myself up during last period and stepped inside the blood bus.

After some initial questioning, I was ready to go, but mysteriously, the bardcode sticker for my vial of blood went missing. After about ten minutes of searching, the technicians found it stuck to one of their lab coats. Now, I have rather obvious veins, which both technician and I thought would be a boon, but unfortunately, immediately after sticking my left arm with the needle, she informed me that- unusually- my vein had shifted and I now had a bruise.

Having come this far, it would be futile to give up now, so I waited for another couple minutes with a cold cloth on my arm while they prepared another needle for my right arm. Fortunately, this one was successful, and it was a matter of about five to six minutes before they had collected a pint of blood from me. I was praying the whole time, which was reassuring, though it was certainly not the worst I've ever been through.

I took some Oreos, but I had to leave rather quickly as it was already 3:35 at this point and school was letting out. I'm still not gun-ho about all of this, but I am glad that I had the experience at least once in my life so far, and I suppose even though the first time had to be the most traumatic, it couldn't get much worse in the future.

One of the Busiest Weeks Ever

2009-01-19T12:40:00.002-06:00

I meant to update this this weekend, but I didn't. Anyway, last week was one of the busiest weeks of the year so far, and while it was stressful at times, it was also one of the more enjoyable as well.

First of all, last Saturday, I spent the entire day- woke up at 5:45 to be picked up at 6:30 for a debate tournament that lasted from 9:00 AM to 10:00 PM- in Blanco with a couple of my friends. If they hadn't been there, I don't know what I would have done; the tournament was unusually slow, and it took nearly ten hours just to progress through four preliminary rounds. I ended up winning two out of my four debates, but every opponent I had was a good match for me, so it was a good experience.

This last week was homecoming week at our school. Since we don't have football, we celebrate it during basketball season. Each day, we can dress up according to the theme for that day, and this year's costumes ranged from board game pieces to video game characters to sports teams. The Fun and Games theme this year was a little bit tricky to pull off, but even though my planned Assassin's Creed costume didn't work out, I still had fun.

Besides this, I participated in the annual talent show on Thursday night not once, but twice. My first performance was a piano solo of John Schmidt's "North Pole Express," and my second round was a performance of "All I Ask of You" from the Phantom of the Opera with the talented Ms. Isabella Haws. Despite my nerves before going up on stage, both were good experiences in performing- my main goal in participating- and I did well in both of them. Unexpectedly, I ended up winning first place with Isabella, although after watching the video of our performance, I cringe at the sound of my own voice. I wish I could look at my own performances/writing without being so self-critical, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist.

On top of everything else, I, of course, had homework throughout the week and a Calculus "quiz" that I'm still waiting to see. Oh, yes, and I recorded four songs during my piano lesson on Tuesday.

On Saturday, I spent six hours with most of my class at what is called a "Super Senior" event, in which each member of the class is honored by a couple of friends and a parent. It was more emotional than we had expected, and although there was more laughter than tears, it was still a reflective experience.

After this, I went to see the movie "Marley and Me" with my mother and neighbor (I had read the book a while back, and we all love dogs). It's a real tear-jerker, but more than just the beautiful story of life with "the world's worst dog," the memoire of John Grogan's life coupled with my experiences earlier in the day made me reflect on where I might be in ten to thirty years. All in all, it was quite an emotional day.

Right now, after having worked on the piano accompaniments I'll play with the choir soloists during contest and after catching up on my 2YN assignments, I'm trying to make the most of a late start on this day off to finish a rough draft of my newspaper feature.

A New Start

2009-01-04T17:29:00.005-06:00

So, I know it's a bit late, but Happy New Year. I haven't been terribly busy over this Christmas break (well, I suppose that means that I wasn't stressed out too much), although I was quite occupied with working at the library for two weeks.

Right now, I am writing this from my bedroom on the computer that is normally in the front living room of our house. It's up here right now because all of the furniture in that room has been moved out so that the next stage of our home renovation can commence, and the rest of the upstairs and living room are in a rather sorry state of disarray. I did clean my desk off though, which was in need of a major dusting.

Unfortunately, that is the only major accomplishment I've achieved this whole break, which leaves me feeling a little bit guilty for not having been more productive. I was surprisingly lax in keeping up with my usual pursuits. The other day, I listened to French radio for the first time in about half a month, and I realised just how much I missed hearing it. I have a piano lesson on Tuesday for which I have probably practiced three or four times, but it's not a big deal since I've only got about two songs on the list right now anyway.

On the writing front, I am trying to begin editing my manuscript for The Shards of the Storm, but I am still waiting on the printer to run out of ink so I can print it... I'm not happy because I'm already practically five days behind and I'm tired of waiting Mom to use up the ink. Anyway, I achieved my resolution last year of finishing the first draft by the end of the year, and this year, I plan on finishing revising the first draft at least one time through. I am a little bit afraid that the idea is losing it's shiny appeal, but I think that no matter what happens to this manuscript, it was my first real story that I have ever seen through to completion, so it will always hold a special place in my heart.

However, I need to begin working on fresh new things besides in the month of November, so I have joined the 2YN (Two Year Novel) course that Zette annually offers at FM. I tried doing it two years ago with an idea that I almost used for NaNo last year, but since I haven't done anything with it, I think I'm going to try to reuse it and develop it this time around. We'll see how it goes, but I'm going to stick it out as long as I can this time.

I hope you have a wonderful 2009 and that you reach all the goals you have set for yourself.

Meditations on Being a Channel of Peace

2008-12-30T10:53:00.000-06:00

After a long absence in which I haven't written much at all, I have recently felt inspired to blog again. I was thinking that, often, I'll have an interesting thought during the day that I later forget, but this time, I resolved to write it down straight away.

Yesterday, while I was working at the library, an encounter I had with yet another irate black woman made me meditate upon the little way of St. Thérèse of Lisieux and the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi.

The woman paid her overdue fine of $8.00 but when she asked for a receipt, she did so in a less-than-pleasant way. I wasn't sure if there was a way to simply print out a receipt from the computer, or if there was a procedure for ensuring the patron gets the correct information, but while I was trying to figure it out, she kept commanding me to "just write your name on a piece of paper saying I paid this."

The whole time I was writing it out for her, she stood there complaining to me about how she shouldn't have had the fine to begin with but she would pay it anyway, even though the "woman over there" (referring to Natalee, my coworker) had apparently given her a "hard time" earlier.

I managed not to say anything, but she was another one of these constantly irascible people who seem to exist just to exacerbate or exasperate others. After she left, though, the Holy Spirit must have prompted me in the right direction, thankfully, and I remembered the "little way" of my patron. Offering up this negative experience is not easy to do, and certainly not instinctual, but it made me think of how it can make the world a better place, one person at a time.

The Christian idea of "turning the other cheek" or "redemptive suffering" is a curious one on the surface; human nature and the way of modern man tell us to retaliate and to right the imbalance of justice in the universe created when such fricative encounters occur. But a deeper look into the reasons behind the Christian attitude reveal that it is the only way to reduce pain and hatred.

The idea I had was that of the Christian being a sort of "drain" from the universe. That is to say that, when bad things happen to us, especially those things caused by the ill-will of others, instead of reflecting that negativity back into the world, the Christian can become a "channel of peace" and funnel it out of the world by giving it to God. This is by no means to say that suffering the tempers of angry library patrons is easy to do, but giving it away to God instead of absorbing it personally makes life happier, both for yourself and the other person.

Besides this, looking to Jesus as our model provides another insight: I wondered what would have happened if he had resorted to retaliating while he was being crucified? But his mission was to come into the world not to condemn it, but to save it because of his great love. And true love entails sacrifice. By offering himself entirely to God, including his sufferings, Jesus was a channel of peace, and so great a one that he saved the entire world.

We might not be able to affect the whole world with our small offerings, but at least for the moment, we can help bring his saving love to the situation at hand.

I think it was interesting that I happened to be wearing my Prayer of St. Francis shirt while I was at work; I would not be surprised to learn that he had prayed for me at the time :)

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Finished the First Draft of Shards of the Storm!

2008-08-01T22:54:00.001-05:00

In response to all the congratulations I'm getting and curiosity regarding my book, I'm posting the excerpt I've shared with everyone. There is a lousy synopsis below. The excerpt is all polished for sharing, but the rest of the book will take a lot of work. It will be on a Barnes and Noble bookshelf one day though, so keep your eyes out in the future!

Thanks to everyone who cares so much and encourages me. Really it means more than you know.
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Isléann pulled her cloak tighter about her as the cold wind tugged playfully at it. Her horse, Aodhfin, snorted in the gust of icy air, and a small cloud drifted away from the animal’s nose.

The elf turned and looked at her traveling companion, Sylveren. The Sylvan strode briskly along with his cloak trailing behind him, though the leaves on his head seemed more wilted than usual in the cold weather. He was not used to the northern climate, having spent most of his life on the Isle of Avalon, their home far to the south.

“We are close now,” Isléann said quietly. “I can feel it.”

The Sylvan blinked slowly, pulled out of his reverie of studying the forest surrounding them. He nodded and replied, “Yes… Look how the road broadens here. I can feel the ground change here, as well. It is packed hard. I am thinking this road has been here for a long time, now… A very long time…”

She smiled to herself, but grew somber once more as the first view of the tops of thatch-roofed buildings appeared over the treetops.

As the pair entered the village of Àruinn, they elicited more than a few stares from the villagers who were already up and about their business. A large grassy sward near the centre of the village was covered in large, colorful banners, and a few wooden booths were set up already. Despite the air of activity, there was an odd silence for a town preparing for festival.

Approaching the large, three-storied inn near the town square, Isléann could not help looking about her at the townsfolk walking in the street. What is wrong with these people? And why is it so cold this far into the year?

The elf dismounted and whispered something to her mount before she patted him and handed Aodhfin’s reins to a stable boy, who led the horse away. Turning to Sylveren, she smiled, though he was once again lost in thought as he observed the village around them. He would still not be used to the villages of men yet, which differed so greatly from the elven Grove they had journeyed far from.

“Shall we go in, Sylveren?” she asked gently.

He nodded slowly before turning his gaze from a small boy holding to his mother’s apron strings as they walked down the street. “Yes. It is cold… Quite cold here. I will welcome the hearth once more.”

The two stepped into the Emerald Oak Inn and Tavern and were greeted by a warm wall of air and a cheery glow from a crackling fire on the large stone fireplace at the far end of the common room. There were only one or two patrons sitting at the tables at this hour of the morning, and both looked to be just finishing breakfast. Aside from a serving girl wiping a table, there was no one else in the room.

As Isléann surveyed the common room, a large, round, jolly fellow emerged from a door behind the bar. Upon seeing the two strangers in his inn, he cheerily called out, “Hallo, Miss!” She glided over to the counter, cool and serene with Sylveren following close behind her.

The man, apparently the proprietor of the establishment, gave a start and widened his eyes for a moment as he realized the lady before him was an elf, and her companion a Sylvan. “How can I be of service to you this day, m’lady?” he asked, bobbing his head.

Isléann allowed the ghost of a smile to touch the corners of her mouth and replied, “I will require rooms for two, if you please, Master… an’Bril.”

The innkeeper blinked in surprise and bit off the question that sprang to his mouth. “Right away, m’lady.” He waved over the serving girl who had been wiping the table, and she led them up the stairs at the back of the room.

Upon reaching the landing, they turned down a dim passage that led to the front of the inn. Turning to face Isléann, the serving girl dropped a curtsy and opened the door to a large bedchamber overlooking the street below. “Here you are, m’lady.” She nodded slightly to the girl and walked into the room as Sylveren followed her to the next room over.

The accommodations were apparently the best the inn had to offer. The room was clean, and it had its own fireplace to one side, though the furnishings were somewhat sparse. Placing her hands on her hips, Isléann surveyed the bed. Fortunately, it had no bugs in it, unlike one of the other stops she had made on her journey here. She grimaced at the memory and walked to the windowed wall, where she could see clearly both ways up and down the main street of the village which passed the inn.

Already in the short time she had been here, more banners and booths had been erected on the green field off to the right. More people were out and about now, too, and she could see the grey smoke of hearths being stoked for the morning floating up from the chimneys.

She suddenly realized that she had not brought up her bags and mentally chided herself for such ignorance. You fool child! You’re not old enough to be out on your own yet! A momentary tightening of her face was all that marked the passing thought, however.

She turned around to find Sylveren standing at the entrance to her room, tracing his hands along the worn, hardwood walls with his eyes closed and a faint expression of concentration on his woody features. He was no doubt listening to the wood’s story, feeling its spirit.

“Sylveren, I just realized that we left our things downstairs. Would you like to come help me with them?” she asked.

He opened his eyes and nodded. “Indeed, I will. This inn is old, quite old. It has a feel about it of having seen many things pass. Truly, this is an ancient town.”

Isléann led the way down the stairs and into the common room once more. As they stepped out of the inn, the cold air struck them just as suddenly as the warmth had when they had entered, and her breath made a small cloud when she spoke. “I believe the stables are just around the back here.”

As she rounded the corner of the inn, she was almost bowled over by a small boy dashing past with a bundle of wood under his arm. He had such a bright smile of eagerness on his face as he headed towards where the men were setting up the village green that she had to smile herself.

Looking up once more, the elf found the small yard beside the inn empty. She held up her skirts with one hand as she made her way delicately across the dirt yard and into the dim stable, where most of the stalls stood empty as well. The only person about that she could see was the young man who had led Aodhfin away earlier.

“Boy, I seem to have left my things out here yet,” she said.

He turned around from where he had been brushing and admiring Aodhfin, apparently startled at having visitors. He glanced between the two for just a moment before bowing slightly and opening the stall’s gate. “Right away, my lady. If I may say so, my lady, you have a fine horse here,” he said tentatively as he stepped out and strode over to the wall where saddles and other riding gear were hanging.

He picked up some bags leaning against the wall and stood up, waiting for her to lead the way out. As he straightened, something shiny flashed from his open collar and caught Isléann’s eye. She stood aside and motioned for him to go ahead of them.

As he walked past Aodhfin’s stall, the horse nickered and nodded his head slightly, his eyes following the boy as he walked out of the stables. Isléann looked at him studiously, almost in question, and the horse seemed to nod his head once more.

Before she followed him back to the inn, she leaned closer to her companion and said in a voice just barely above a whisper, “Sylveren, I think we have found what we are looking for.”

A Synopsis

2008-06-18T22:32:00.002-05:00

So, as I've been promising, I have some information for those of you who don't know what my WIP is about. I made progress today with 3,000 more words ^_^ Only 7k more. And I'm quite pleased at how my progress in writing regularly- both in my manuscript and here- is coming along. Below is the synopsis I composed today, though it could change quite a bit in revising.

In Ages past, the world was a different place… until the war between Light and Shadow broke upon the land like a tidal wave, sweeping every nation into its fiery conflict. Man fought against man, and anglean against anglean. In the midst of the turmoil, seven of the most powerful artefacts in the world were forged- weapons that harnessed the power of heaven and hell themselves and unleashed havoc and devastation upon every corner of the world. When brought together, they enabled Micha'el, the right hand of the Creator, to banish the rebellious Dark Lord Samma'el to his prison in the Otherworld. But their power was too great for men to handle. In the backfire, the world was rent asunder in the cataclysmic event known as the Storm, and the seven artefacts were scattered across the land, where they have lain hidden for Ages… until now.

Young Aeneas Tuathail has lived in the tiny village of Àruinn for as long as he can remember, but he yearns for a life of adventure outside the walls of the small town. Little does he know that he will get his wish, for at the spring festival of Ostara, he narrowly survives an attempt on his life, immediately after which the mysterious elven princess, Isléann, appears, informing him that he bears one of the seven Shards of the Storm and is the rightful heir to the throne of his country after his father was murdered by an usurping warlord in league with those who hunt him.

Pursued by the Draoi Dorcha, the Dark Druids, who have arisen after a century of dark and secret plotting in exile, Aeneas must leave his home, accompanied by his rival, Nelain, one of the last Sages, who can read the flows of destiny and time, and his loyal friend, Mairead, who has abilities of her own she has yet to discover.

Together with Isléann, they make the long journey from Àruinn, facing treacherous obstacles along the way- from the giant spiders of Mistwood Forest, to the windswept heights of the Glas Mountains, to the shores of the vast Lough Eigh where a fearsome monster dwells, and down the singing Taramar River to the port of Tur'ismella, from which they sail to the Isle of Avalon, where Isléann must reconcile herself with her father: the only person who can tell them more about the seven Shards and where to find them.

Now, in a race against time, Aeneas and his friends set out to reclaim the seven Shards of the Storm before they fall into the hands of evil, making friends, as well as enemies along the way. With the ever-present threat of the Shadow looming overhead, things are never what they appear to be, and nobody can be trusted. Will Aeneas avenge his father and reclaim his rightful throne, returning peace to the oppressed kingdom of Caledonia? Will Nelain overcome his differences with Aeneas to use his abilities to help his quest? And will they find the Shards in time before the world is destroyed again in a final confrontation with Samma'el himself?

Milestones, Insurance, and Roadkill

2008-06-17T15:48:00.002-05:00

So, today I had a terrible time starting my writing for the day, but I pushed through no matter what, and fortunately, when you do this, it breaks whatever was blocking you. I found that as I wrote, the story came along. I think the problem was that I did not have a good starting point, but I knew what happened after that.

As you can see, I made it to 90,000 words today. I should reach the 100K mark soon, though I suspect the wordcount will go over that. After that, I will let it sit for a while before trying to edit it, and in the meantime, I will begin planning my NaNo novel for this November. I already have an idea, I just need to develop it.

On another note, I was reading about different insurance information, and I learned today that if you lend your friend your car, and he is not insured and he gets in an accident, your insurance will pay for it if he is at fault. The basic line is

Auto Insurance = Covers Vehicle, regardless of driver.
Tickets = Driver related only, regardless of the vehicle.

So if you were ever wondering whether to lend your car out, you can keep that in mind. You can read the full article here.

And lastly, on a bit of a macabre note, I just took the dog out for a walk, and we discovered a vulture eating the half-eaten and mutilated remains of a poor squirrel right outside our front yard. I know there is a story in this somewhere...

Oh, I was supposed to tell you about my book this time. I promise my next post will.

An Introduction

2008-06-16T09:12:00.005-05:00

Since November of 2006, I have participated in an annual event known as National Novel Writing Month. It is a contest against time and oneself sponsored by the Office of Letters and Light in which participants try to write 50,000 words of a brand new rough draft in the 30 days of November.

Some of you might think this sounds like a school assignment from hell, but there are those crazy people like myself who revel in the thrill of wild abandon and the challenge of such a preposterous undertaking. The most important rule of NaNoWriMo is to have fun; the mantra we go by is "You can edit crap, but you can't edit a blank page." The bigger, personal goal is to learn how to stifle the demon we like to call "our inner editor." So many people speak of writing a novel someday, but they don't start or they never finish because they fear their writing will not be perfect on the first go around. But that's ok. There is something entirely liberating in creating one's own universe, painting with broad, messy strokes like a kindergartener, and just enjoying the creative exuberance of it all. And I must say, having that progress bar inch over the 50K mark and knowing you have completed a couple hundred pages of an actual manuscript is one of the best feelings in the world.

Sometimes, though, no matter how hard we try, the inner editor haunts us and stifles our creative flow. Unfortunately for me, after my mad dash for the finish line in November, I tend to fall back into my daily routine, saying I'll take a short break from writing to rest up in what turns out to be a six month sabbatical. However, I have learned over the past two years that anything one wants to accomplish, one can if one sticks to it regularly.

And so, at the end of each post, you will be able to see my progress on my Works in Progress (abbreviated to WIP's). This will give you an idea of how long it takes to complete a novel, and as humans are social creatures and writing is quite a solitary task, having an audience and fans to cheer you on is a great motivational factor.

The bar you see below is my WIP from 2006- my first NaNo ever. I swore my new year's resolution would be to finish the rough draft of this book by the year's end, but if things keep going as well as they have been, I may even reach that goal by the end of this summer. What is The Shards of the Storm? Well, I'll let you know in my next post...

Welcome!

2008-06-15T22:38:00.000-05:00

I have never been one for keeping journals, which is amusing because I love writing so much. Recently, though, I have been considering keeping just such a journal to chronicle my forays into the world of creative writing as well as the activities that comprise my everyday life. Especially now that I am a senior, it would do me well to record this last year in a huge chapter of my life.

My very good friend, Patrick, just began blogging with some very touching entries, and his example was the kick in the pants I needed to try my hand at another form of writing.

Here, you will find my daily progress in my personal creative writing endeavors, as well as hopefully gaining some insight into my life. There is not much here at the moment, but I hope you will find it unfold into a book that calls you back again and again. For now, though, welcome, and enjoy your stay...