"It’s a good round for a knockdown. It’s the right time of the night to throw the fight and leave the pieces where they fall... "

I guess I have some catching up to do.

The other week I actually found some old poems in an otherwise unused notebook. I vaguely remember writing them, but apparently they haven't seen the light of day in over a year. So I figured I'd air them out here...

This is the first, chronologically, of the two. It's a true Spenserian sonnet, which is nice when you can pull it off. I'm not sure what else I can say about it, seeing as I've already admitted that I only vaguely remember even being it's author. I can tell that it was probably during that period where I started to realize that my sentence structure followed rhymescheme much too rigidly (i.e. each quatrain was a separate thought). You can tell because how how desperately I made the theme of the second quatrain bleed over into the first line of the sextet.

"... the terror of the darkness in my face." -2/13/08

Without a mirror, I am many things;

I find no noble task I cannot do

And everything I want to be is true

Without the honest face reflection brings.

In stagnant pools there are no moving rings

To trouble or disturb the placid blue.

The surface shows the face I show to you

Until disturbed by force of living springs,

Confusion like a pond that's marred by rain.

And thus it is I find I clearly sense

The shadow on my heart when you are near.

My guarded, gilded icon seems profane,

The tapers I have lit, a great offense.

To see my face in darkness is my fear...

"...It’s the right month of the year to have you here,

The ground gets cold but the skies are clear

And the angle of the sun

Could keep the shadows on the run."

-L

"If I had my way, if I had my way, if I had my way..."

First post in a while, I realize.

Standard Spenserian with my signature 15th line-title.

Only notable trivia is that this one went through two complete sextet/title combos.  I'm posting the final version first, with the unsatisfactory version second. Which do you prefer?

"... May this sad koan to my bread be yeast." -5/09/09

Now come, Delilah, lay your shears aside;

I tire of losing strength and losing hope,

Just tie the hair you've cut into a rope.

Although the separation means it's died,

In that is found the downfall of my pride

And narrowing of my potential scope:

The end of my ability to cope

And all salvation that was there implied.

So, from this state, can one who once began

From this bald place restart, though now the less;

And if I start the climb, perhaps the beast

May one day find himself where once a man

Had bravely dared to stand and to confess

That he was not his maker in the least...

(Unsatisfactory version)

"... Restore me to the race which once I ran" -5/9/09

Now come, Delilah, lay your shears aside;

I tire of losing strength and losing hope,

Just tie the hair you've cut into a rope.

Although the separation means it's died,

In that is found the downfall of my pride

And narrowing of my potential scope:

The end of my ability to cope

And all salvation that was there implied.

Perhaps a worm might crawl into that mess

and tangle, till he reach the topmost knot

And find himself a beast, where once a man

Had bravely dared to stand and to confess

That he was not his maker, though he sought

The one who did, and most of all who can...

"... I'd burn this whole building down."

-L

"Earth below us, drifting falling, floating weightless..."

My first entry in some time, I realize.  Lent was, in some ways, more a time of incompletion than completion.  Exemplified, perhaps, by this piece.  The first octet was written during Lent.  When I came to the end, however, I wasn't sure how I wanted to finish it.  The final two lines that I had were: "At times it seems too hard to run the race / When all the laurelled ones are watching you."  bit I wasn't sure how to arrive there, so I ended up abandoning it.  Plus, having written so many self-pitying poems already that Lent, I was unsatisfied with the final sentiment.

So then yesterday morning (or two days ago, very late at night), I got a sextet.  Upon searching for a piece of paper to write it down, I wrote it upon the same sheet as the aforementioned octet.  I then realized that the sextet actually completed the previous octet in a way that was currently satisfying to me.  It's strange because I don't usually leave things unwritten.  Or at least, I don't usually go back to fragments.  I don't usually find them meaningful except on the night that they are created and subsequently abandoned (My inability to revise or revisit works being the core of my failure to produce any work of length).  So this is a little bit of a novelty, and the two pieces may hang a little tenuously.  

As it stands, however, I am simply glad to have completed it.  Unfortunately, I didn't date the paper for the first segment, and I feel that the date for the second segment doesn't really convey when the entire piece was written, or the fact that it took shape over time.  Perhaps the length of time between the segments, or its significance, are lost on the casual reader.  Oh well.  In form, it is an entirely typical sonnet for me.

"... And run this race as if I ran to you." -4/18/09 & Previous

Of all the rose, Saint Francis loved the thorns

But shower me with petals all the day.

When Moses spoke with God, he left with horns

But, though I speak, unchanged I walk away.

And Peter was instructed by his Lord

That Romans would direct him what to wear

Then lead him to the wages of his Word,

A prophecy which I could never bear.

I live in such an ordinary day-

to-day, and run at such a staggered pace

that, soon as I commence, collapse, am through.

I know I need to find a diff'rent way,

This stop-and-go's no way to run a race,

I need to set my eyes on something true...

"... Coming, coming home."

-L

"You got a fast car, but is it fast enough so we can fly away?"

Updates have been lacking due to this past and current week being finals week/s.  However, this morning I was looking for an old poem to read again and, searching for it on the blog, I realized that I never uploaded it.  It must have been written during one of my long non-posting periods.  In any case, it is a poem that I am currently feeling so I'll post it up now.  Sometimes it is comforting to read something old that documents a place that can otherwise be hard to remember.

This one was written during the week in Israel.  We were staying in a kibbutz named Nof Ginosar (not rhyming with Dinosaur, sorry Claire), translating roughly (if memory serves) to "The Prince's Garden", which I guess was an old name for the region.  It was on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and the scene described below happened pretty much as transcribed.  The guide had been telling us about Tiberius' history that day, but I have to credit Reez for the image of Tiberius at night as a rack of votive candles.

It has a sincerely strange rhyme-scheme, though it was quite a late hour so perhaps I wasn't trying for one.  I should definitely try to write something in this or a similar scheme again though... for funzies.  The scheme is: abbc abbc deeffg

It is also written roughly in dactylic trimeter (ending regularly with an extra stressed syllable), with a few lines starting with an extra unstressed syllable.

"The Window of Nof Ginosar" -3/12/07

The Lord woke me up at a quarter-to-five,

Calling from outside the window to me,

Speaking of faith and of storms on the sea,

And Christ in the sailboat, appearing to sleep.

Then I, for an hour, proceeded to strive,

Struggling to learn of this great mystery,

Thinking of faith like the storms on the sea:

A faith that’s unmoved as the Galilee Deep.

Oh distant Tiberius, built on the dead,

Can branches still grow from the root that you hide?

Burning like candles across the far side

And drawing my eyes to the twinkling span:

A lake bearing footprints of God and of Man.

Oh votive Tiberius, pray for us.

"We gotta make a decision: we leave tonight or live and die this way."

-L

"In our darkest hours we have all asked for some angel to come sprinkle his dust all around..."

A perhaps little-known fact: Freshman year I had General Psych with... I no longer remember his name but he was Polish.  In any case, every class he presented us with his typed notes, usually a 20-30 page bundle. For each class.  So, even though most of the information was so basic that I didn't need the notes, I saved them for use as scrap paper rather than throwing them out.  I put them in the back of my archive folder so, with the exception of the Metaphysics poetry, most of what I've written since has been on the back of these notes. It sometimes yields an interesting subtext and, this past time, inspired a little introspection.

The previous poem (see post below) was written on the last page of a study guide, and the title of this current poem is the last question from that guide. I realize that it's long, and a somewhat pretentious thing to name a fourteen-line poem, but I wanted to include the full context of what spawned my subsequent meditation.

This one has two Shakespearean quatrains and an Italian sextet.  I like the first quatrain a lot. I have been trying to break my habit of ending sentences or phrases with linebreaks because I think that it, overall, makes for a more interesting, less stilted sound.  I only really managed that in the first one though.  The quatrains flowed without much difficulty, but the sextet was harder.  In part because I wasn't sure how well it fit with the quatrains thematically (although it followed fairly directly in my mind) and in part because it was simply something that was hard for me to write.  But you all know what to expect from me by now.

"72. Define similarity, closure, continuation and nearness as they pertain to perception." -3/11/09

I came at You with eyes flung open wide.

With elbows locked, I felt around for such

a thing as curled fingers may abide,

but I found nothing dead enough to touch.

I came at You as if You were a thought.

I tried to box You in with ev'ry tool

but, when I looked inside the cage I'd wrought,

found nothing dead enough to heed my rule.

I'm told that You are close to me in kind:

that I, from clay, was in Your image set.

But You're a spirit that I cannot see,

a word that will not fit inside my mind

and, worst of all I have not uttered yet,

a Father who so scarce resembles me.

"Cause this is nothing like we'd ever dreamt, tell Sir Thomas More we've got another failed attempt..."

-L

"Fight to the death, I'll see you in the next life..."

Welcome to Insomnia Theatre.

I have, as usual, had a final line floating in my head for the past several days, just waiting for some idea of how to reach it.  Often my poems start from the end like that. The self discovery found in the process of writing is not what conclusion I'll arrive at but rather the realization of how I arrived there.

In any case, after about 40 minutes of lying wide awake last night (was it the time-change? Who knows...) I got an inkling of a first line.  After rolling over a few times and trying not to think about it, I got up and scribbled it in the dark before jumping back into my bed. Which I exited not many minutes later, trapped by the fact that a first line begets a second.  So that's the story behind this one.  Luckily, it didn't take long and I was in bed again within about twenty minutes, able to fall asleep.  I wonder if perhaps the fact that I don't allow myself much interior time during the day results in this racing brain syndrome after I turn out the lights and everything is finally quiet. I swore that I was going to force myself to reflect more this Lent. So far, I haven't done much.

This is a somewhat irregluar sonnet. The octet is in Shakespearian format (abab, etc) except that I reversed the order on the second quatrain to attempt to duplicate the beatiful 4th-5th line transition in an Italian/Petrarchan quatrain (abbaabba). I'm not sure if this moment strikes you like it does me, but it seems like there is always this moment of transcendance when, finished with a quatrain, you hear that "a" rhyme again right after. It's like a second volta. It's like the moment that you reach the top of the hill and, after going up for a while, first feel gravity begin to pull you down.  So, in any case, that's the effect that I was going for.  The sextet is in a typical Italian form (cdecde), and even has a proper volta! I was so proud of myself. Okay. I realize that few of you read this paragraph, because it was fairly dense. But hopefully the Lit majors at least appreciated it. My point was that, in an attempt to duplicate the effect of the center of an "abbaabba", I made a "ababbaba" and I think it worked out pretty well.  The title is, as ever, my spectral fifteenth line.

"... Then find myself a craven thing, a snail." -3/09/09

So ready to betray, the fearful heart,

Which finds itself unable e'er to bend.

And so, although it once was coaxed to start,

So ready finds itself to make an end.

It finds no bond to hold it in a friend,

For self-protection is its given art.

And so, when challenged, rather than defend,

At soonest sign of danger it will part.

This story, told in third, tells not as well

As that which, told in first, would sure excite

Emotions suiting truth within a tale.

The truth is: though You braved the Scorn of Hell,

I fear that I myself would lack the might;

I flee when "in this sign" I think I'll fail...

All in all, I think that this is the first thing that I've written in over a year that just flowed without feeling forced and, in fact, without respect for my sleep schedule. I think that's why I've been writing so much about the process of writing it. It just feels so good to get a dash of inspiration again, whatever the merits of the product.

"With a dull blade, could take all night."

-L

"There's no place on Earth I can hide from the wrong I've done..."

I am not entirely sure how this one turned out... Any of those reading it: I need your opinion regarding the final sextet. When I started, all I had were the final two lines, which were in iambic quadrameter, so I decided to do a quint-quad-quad (x2) format for the sextet.  What I need to know is: when you read it aloud to yourself, does it sound good? Or stilted?

EDIT: Based on my judgement, I changed the sextet to petrameter and have therefore changed the poem in this post.

In any case: this is Lenten. I sat down and made myself write it so, by nature, I am somewhat unsatisfied with it. It seems like, thematically, the first quatrain doesn't entirely mesh with the second. But in any case, I may change it later, but here it is.

"... but as I give the order, shed a tear." -3/02/09

Your eyes, like Circe, change a man to beast.

I've stared in, long and deep, and every time

The sacrifice I make may seem the least,

Forgetting: ev'ry compromise is crime.

I heard a voice today from wilderness;

I heard today the voice of locusts talk,

With honey on his tongue bade me redress:

He bade me to the Jordan River walk.

So I must weigh the things that I hold dear.

Although before I'd lose you I'd be dead,

Because of this I know I'll ne'er be free.

I know myself, and this is what I fear:

I'd freely give you John the Baptist's head

If ever you should deign to dance for me.

"... All or what little pleasure exists, seductively sold and uselessly mine."

-L

"I used to feel like California, with baby eyes so blue..."

I was reading through my bulging archive-folder today (which actually ripped twice during the session, so I may need a new one), trying to get myself in the mood to write. I don't think it's happening at this point tonight, though perhaps it will come right when I'm ready for bed. I think that full half of my poems have been written at least a half-hour after my bedtime. The other half, of course, being written in Metaphysics class, sophomore year.

In any case, everyone should really have a physical archive-folder/book.  It really is so fruitful to read through and see the two or three lines scribbled in the margins that never made it into poems. Sometimes it can respark the idea that you didn't have the wherewithall to do justice to years ago.  In today's case, the fruit was tangible. I found a poem that I don't think I've ever shared.  I would never have thought to look for it if I hadn't found the hard-copy, but Google Desktop found it in some hidden folder, a simple .txt called "Untitled". It would have been lost for good. Not that it is my favorite ever. It's from December of 2006, but I think that its theme fits the current season, so I'm posting it in lieu of original material tonight.

Here we go, a typical Shakespearean sonnet, as I was wont.  As a matter of fact, it is a more proper Shakespearean sonnet than most of mine, seeing as it makes use of the volta and uses the final couplet to wrap the whole thing up.  It is rather interesting, reading through my archive, to see how my style really has subtly changed over the years.  I didn't think that it had.

Untitled (On the Subject of Humility) - 12/10/2006

At times, when I admire the trees and ground,

Extend a hand to touch the present world,

I feel a separation so profound:

My soul transcends Persephone unfurled.

Although her scented breath emits delight,

Although her lips are pomegranate red,

My lips have felt the Angel's coal so bright:

I breathe the breath of God, and hers is dead.

But still! Remember, oh my soul, the breath

That Love Himself expired on that day

Was breathed into a form of earthen flesh.

Thus so we are: immortal and decay.

So, lest the humble ground you start to spurn,

Remember: unto dust you shall return.

"... now I feel like Carolina, I split myself in two."

-L

"I read my lines, straight faced in the mirror. You are my camera."

A new sonnet. It's a little rough around the edges, but at least I'm getting back in the game.  I cannot for the life of me figure out how to punctuate the title.

I trust the task you started, you will end -1/09/09

Come out, come out my shadow-hidden friend.

This test must end in time, so why delay?

You swore that faith and hope must pass away,

And only Love can cause the world to mend.

For faith and hope are born in mortal hearts,

With mortal dreams, they live and die apace.

But, like the sun upon an upturned face,

We only know Your Love when Heaven parts.

But oh! If I could rend the iron sky

And, reaching up with hands stretched half in prayer

And half in desperation, give a cry

And know one syllable was heard, I'd dare:

"Come out, come out my shadow-hidden friend,

For only Love can cause a man to mend."

"Slouched over coffee, I'm faking artsy. We're playing dress up now."

-L

"Let our crowds be fed on tear-gas and plate-glass..."

My inaugural post on a new blog.

I was doing some reading today and I happened upon a piece that I found intriguing. This is from John Farrow's Pageant of the Popes (1942):

"[Callistus was elected pope in 217AD] However Hippolytus, whose undeniable brilliance had won him a considerable following, declared the election to have been false and then allowed his own disciples to bestow upon him the title of Head of the True Church. Thus for the first time we have an Anti-Pope.

[...]

The pretensions of Hippolytus persisted after the death of Callistus, throughout the pontificate of Urban (222-230) and into that of Pontian. For the first five years of this Pope's reign, the struggle was bitter and grave, for Hippolytus was a dangerously skilled antagonist. Then, in a fresh outburst of persecution by an Emperor who took no trouble to differentiate between true or schismatic Christianity, both were banished to the Sardinian mines. In the stultifying confines of imprisonment, antipathies are usually intensified into deadly hatred: less commonly a friendship is formed, strong with understanding and loyalty. Happily, it was the latter case with Pope and Anti-Pope. Hippolytus acknowledged his error and made a complete and unconditional submission to Pontian, who, without rancor, received him back into the Church. Soon after, this new friendship was sealed with the bond of dual martyrdom." (p 13, 14)

The issue that this passage made me think of, of course, was the recent bout of dialogue with the SSPX. Granted: the SSPX has not set up an Anti-Pope and are not a schismatic group. Why, then, is it that their leader went to his grave without full reconciliation? Why do certain current heads of this group find reconciliation distasteful, even with a pontiff so friendly to their desires? I think that, while common persecution drew Hippolytus and Pontian together as brothers, the hierarchy of the SSPX has come to view the Church as their persecutor as much as the World. This is, of course, not objectively the case, however I think that, at the root of all of the much-bemoaned Traddy-Bitterness, you can see this schema of Church-as-Persecutor.

In reality, of course, we are both beset on all sides and must have "in essentials, unity; in doubtful matters, liberty; in all things, charity." I wonder how this can be attained, short of handing Fellay and Benedict XVI hard-hats and sending them to Sardinia...

"... 'cause a people united is a wonderful thing."

-L

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes"

It is indeed a change for me to post anything.

At the same time, I am posting this mainly to note a change.

For Lenten purposes, I will likely be blogging frequently again, but I have decided to move to Blogger.

Reasons for this (provided because JG's recent defense of his remaining on LJ requires my reasons for leaving):

1) I was only ever on LJ because my friends used it, and only JG still uses it.

2) I already use 95% Google products to interact with the Internet, why not one more?

3) This blog is corny and, as corny as it was meant to be when it was created, I feel like making something that will be more relevant to my current cognitive-affective state.

4) I found a programme that will (purportedly) transfer all of my old LJ posts to my new Blogger account (which was my main concern anyways).

So my new blog will be starting at http://quid-retribuam.blogspot.com

I will soon be posting recent poetry and certain Lenten meditations.

"Turn and face the strange..."

-L

A Long-Awaited Update! (For Joe and my parents)

This update is for those who wish I would update more.

You Are 24% Democrat

You're a bit Democrat, and probably more liberal than you realize.If you're still voting Republican, maybe it's time that you stop.

How Democrat Are You?

You Are 44% Republican

You aren't a full fledged Republican yet, but it's probably the party that fits you best.You probably consider yourself an independent Republican. You usually support the party, but you also think for yourself!

How Republican Are You?

I didn't vote this year. I totally forgot to register for an absentee ballot. Oh well. I am currently listening to Michael Sauter's pretty-much completed first movement of his first symphony. It is pretty fantastic, let me tell you. It's 13 megs, or I would email it to each and every one of you.

It is very interesting to read through all of the old household documents and realize where we have come/fallen/risen from. I am/have been working on a revision of our Lord's Day. I need to just start writing. :)

Hesychia,

-L

"Holy Diver, you've been down too long in the midnight sea..."

Just got back from the Tuesday Night "P&W". My first time going this semester, but I decided I should give it a chance this semester as well. It really is different each semester. Anyways, I was still kind of in a Force One or Two Wig-Out on the Harburg Scale, which is down from my high of 4 today and certainly down from a solid 9 yesterday, so I wasn't really feeling like going. But I decided to anyways and God surprised me. It was actually pretty darn solid worship. Not quite to the level of Man Praise (which, I realized I haven't written about yet, but it was frickadiculous) but really... /nothing/ can beat over 30 men praising together. That's why I love the Christ the King Men's Retreat in February. Maybe some of the other guys from Ann Arbor will go back with me this year...

So anyways... I guess the news is that God loves me. Um... nothing /new/ exactly, but just as earth-shattering as the first day I heard Him say it. Yeah...

"Oh what's becoming of me..."

-L

"Sitting here watching you sitting here watching me sitting here watching you..."

So, it's been a while. I'm not even going to try to sum up all of the things that have been going on. School has been fairly easy and even pretty interesting so far. This weekend has been a little tiering seeing as I have two three-page papers due at 1PM on Monday. But I already have the first one done and most of the quotations for the second one so... hopefully I can dash it off in the couple of hours I have tomorrow morning.

Last Monday, Odin led Meditation on St. Francis' Meditation on the Our Father. That was pretty profound. It was kind of one of those "God Coincidences" because I have definitely been meditating a lot on the Our Father ever since late summer. Everyone generally has a member of the Trinity that they're most comfortable relating to God as, and conversely many people have a person of the Trinity that they are less comfortable thinking of God as or praying to. My "less comfortable relating to" person is definitely the Father so I have been meditating on that a lot in an attempt to improve in that area. It has been super-fruitful so far. Maybe I'll write more about that later, maybe you can just ask me if you see me. Anyways, the main thing that has struck me over the past couple months is how Christ taught the disciples the Our Father not in response to the question "Lord, teach us a prayer" but rather "Lord, teach us how to pray". Therefore, the Our Father is not so much "a prayer" as it is a guide to the prayerful heart. It should form the background to every prayer that we say, forming our attitudes for approaching our Ever-loving Father. In keeping with my "theme" (I guess you could call it that?) of total surrender to God's will, the lines that struck me the most were, "Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven" and just how essential it is that those lines be behind every prayer that I say. Because, honestly, if the Lord answers that one then we're alright. No matter what.

I wrote another poem on Friday morning in adoration. I'm not sure it's anything too profound, but it's an issue that I think about every now and then. Just sort of the issue of loving things/people other than God (as much as anything that He created can be /other/ than Him). Yeah, I pretty much always end up on the side of "Well, you can't go wrong with love, so long as it's actual love!" I couldn't think of a good title for the longest time, so I just titled it after the Bible verse that inspired it. Just an FYI for those following along at home, it refers to the verses as they appear in the Douay-Rheims. I think some Bibles have it a verse off. Go here for that reference, in any case.

Ecclesiastes 5:17-19 -9/15/06

Oh Lord, I love the world around me much,

And not just simply as a type of You

Nor as a metaphor for what You do.

I love the good I see, and it as such.

Is this akin to rabbit loving hutch,

Instead of He who built the shelter there,

And do I in this love of creatures err?

Should I despise embraces for Your touch?

No, rather let the ox partake of grain

And let the laborer enjoy his wage

(Though I am so unworthy of my pay),

Nor should I from the gifts You give refrain.

I do not think that one could find a sage

Who’d say, “If you love Light then hate the day.”

I should have been asleep 30 minutes ago, but I'm just leaving to take a shower right now. Oh well... after tomorrow's over I can sleep easier.

"I'm waiting for something that is too real..."

-L

"Can we try for right now, free of doubt. If you give the chance I could try and figure out..."

So, today was a pretty big day! It was the Household Olympics! Although they are held every year, this was actually my first time participating. Freshman year, I didn't really care enough about households to go "compete" in their name. Then last year, I was working all day Saturday. So I wasn't sure if I'd like it or not.

There was a costume contest associated with the Olympics that we didn't participate in because we basically didn't have any feasible ideas. So we skipped that part. We had an awesome team though. There were probably about five brothers on it, and seven freshmen. They were all pretty-much from Thomas' smallgroup, which was awesome. They are a great group of kids, and it is really encouraging to see them take an interest in household. For the rest of the day though (well... for three hours at least) we ran around competing in various events. The highlights of the Olympics were:

-creaming the Living Stones in a tug-of-war. I mean, seriously. We had them down in two pulls.

-doing pretty awesome at the stocking-head battle. It really can't be explained any better than that, except perhaps to clarify that the stockings were actually pantyhose.

-beating the record at the egg-toss. We only beat it by one foot in the recorded match, but we hit the highest marker they had set up (four more feet out) several times while we were practicing.

-losing a fearsome tug-of-war match to Foot of the Cross. We were at a standstill for seriously, like, five minutes before some of our unshod members started slipping and we lost. But it was still awesome.

So, yeah. After the Olympics we went straight into Lord's Day and pretty much all the kids who were on our team came. Most of them, it was their second Lord's Day with us, because they went with Thomas during Orientation Week. They are a pretty solid group of guys, and I am really glad to see that they love the campus and love the idea of households. It seems like each successive year is getting more and more excited about households, though I could be wrong. It is really encouraging though. Yeah.

So there was a FOP tonight, but I didn't go. After my pretty awesome talk with Anthony Muse on the way to the coordinator's retreat (he is the FOP Music Team co-leader this year, and has pretty much the same vision for FOPs as I do. i.e., less introspective/healing oriented stuff and more focus on God and praising Him) I really do intend to go to at /least/ one FOP this semester, if not many. But tonight I was pretty tired and just wanted to sit around. So after brushing off the usual "You don't want to go to the FOP? Are you feeling alright?", I read about 5 pages of Erasmus and played a good deal of Call of Duty 2 with the fellas. All-in-all a pretty fun evening, but there is actually still more.

See, lured by the promise of "free pizza", I threw on my Hawaiian shirt and went to the "Caribbean Party" in the JCWC after the FOP. So it turned out that the pizza cost $1/slice, so I bought two anyways. The rest of the evening was spent hanging out with first Thomas, Ken and JP because I came with them, then hanging out with Claire and Tina because Tina is down here visiting for the weekend, and it had been a while since I'd talked to her, then hanging out with Liz and Phil because well... the former is always a good time, and I haven't talked to Phil in quite some time either. So all in all a very successful social evening. :)

But indeed, I am not done yet! On my way back to the dorm, I met Nate, who informed me that SOL was inducting three girls tonight. So we gathered together all our art skills/strange, sad little minds and pumped out some construction-paper signs. There were actually some pretty darn good ones in there. So yeah: Maria Bagel, Littledorf and Annagall are all in SOL now. That's kind of fun. We all went over and hung out with them after we put the signs up on the Bagel/dorf door. That was fun as well. It had been a while since I had hung out with the sisters, but they are always a bundle of fun. Christa was there (well, I mean, of course... why wouldn't she be?) and, although we never exchanged a single word the entire time, somehow it wasn't really awkward for one of the first times since last February. At least, it didn't feel awkward to me. And... I dunno. That's kind of big. It made me happy...

Anyways. God moves in really incredible ways. I went to confession to Fr. Conrad yesterday, and my spirits have been lifted ever since. God works His plan of salvation so beautifully in my life, and all that I have to do is wait for His signal to act. There are so many things that I don't know, but I find my only certainty in this: that the loving Father is watching over me.

"I'm kind of scared because I don't know how.

But I'm watching the close calls and catching my breath now."

-L

"Well you are worth more than the man I am, sad and in love..."

I wrote something tonight. I think the idea came to me yesterday. It is based off of one of Aesop's Fables, though I admit to having entirely recontextualized it. I haven't put it on the website yet, partially because Geocities is blocked by the Internet here, and partially because I am still somewhat uncertain as to whether I should put it in a relatively well-established section, or use it to start a new one altogether. But I guess that's really what the poem's about in the first place...

Anyways, a sonnet. Strange semi-Spenserian, semi-Shakespearian rhyme-scheme. The title is the ephemeral "fifteenth line" that I really wish I could have included, but alas: my desire to write sonnets precludes that desire.

"... The Answer That You Give, I Will Attend" -9/1/06

Oh tell me, Phoebus, this I have in hand

And trembling keep thus clutched unto my breast

So long without the sun and without rest

Is there a hope that it has strength to stand

Much less attempt the flight it does demand?

This bird, oh Phoebus, underneath my cloak

That flaps its wings to hear your shining name

Is its small heart too strong for me to tame?

Its quivering wings too strong to e'er be broke,

Except perhaps by any word you spoke?

This question, Phoebus, does on you depend:

Does this small life deserve to live or end?

"Marking miles of martyrs

Of better men, of better men than me

And I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how"

-L

"So this is my goodbye, surprised 'cause I thought I could walk you home tonight..."

So I don't figure that anyone else is really going to be updating their LiveJournals much now that we're back at school. However, as I told Claire, I do have a somewhat small audience at home, so I guess I still have a reason to write.

The past week and a half (or whatever) has been heck of hectic. I haven't gotten more than 8 hours of sleep in any one night, and a couple times quite a bit less. It has generally been a period with relatively little free-time and always something that you have to do. On the other hand, it has been pretty awesome. For some reason, every Orientation Week that I do seems to be showered with grace, and this past "week" was no different.

The coordinators' retreat was really great. It was one of the best weekends that I've had in a while, and blossomed into quite a cool week. It was great to meet all of the coordinators from the various households and to discover what God was doing in and through them. It is so easy sometimes to get tunnel-vision in that regard and forget that God moves outside of your own little life. So it was great to meet new people, and to hang out with Liz and Susanna. The talks were, for the most part, quite good and inspirational.

The "OT" training week itself was a little bit boring. Hanging out with people was definitely the highlight seeing as the talks were /very/ plentiful and often got a little repetitious. Still some good stuff though, and definitely some fun lunchtimes/dinners/late-night Walmart runs.The new freshmen on wing are really solid. I was somewhat disappointed not to get a small-group this year, but have been hanging out with Thomas' small-group enough to make up for not having one. I was afraid that they might be the kind of kids who just stay inside their rooms and make you come tell them "Look, hang out with us! Come eat with us!" but they really aren't. Of course, it helps that we are often pretty loud and in the hallway, but hey: that is our charism. So yeah, these kids have a lot of potential.

Friday night, Claire and I stayed up until 3:30AM smorking a cigar and having a much-needed "so, what have you been up to in the past year" conversation. It is always good to hear how God is working in someone else's life, and to get their take on your own current experiences. I dunno. It was really enjoyable, and I think that's all I'll say about that.

Today was no less action-packed than the rest of the week. A very enjoyable brunch was eaten, after which Reez and I hung out in Trinity for a bit. She wanted to play a board-game so we rounded up 6 people for a game of Clue (which is an awesome game). It turned out to be the shortest Clue game ever, clocking it at probably 15-20 minutes, but it was very fun. After that, I went to the "Dinner for 12 Strangers" with Thomasino's small-group. There were three small-groups (a little over 30 people) there, so it was kind of packed, but it was fun. Justice Gibson and Katie Patton were both there from the Marian group, so I was not the only kid to tag along. Plus: I got to show off my double-jointed shoulders in the "get to know you" part of it. After that, Thomas and I were going to watch 28 Days Later with Cory (a kid from his small-group), who had never seen it, but I guess he disappeared off to the Ice Cream Social. So we raided DVDan's movie collection and found one that Thomas assured me I should see: Dog Soldiers. It is a thriller about this small group of soldiers being hunted by a pack of werewolves. It was pretty darn good, and not just "for a horror B-movie". Some pretty creative problems and solutions, which is pretty much the core of any horror/thriller movie. After that we dashed off to the last showing of the Orientation Week play (called "Supressed Desires"). It was a very funny comedy about Freudian psychoanalysis. Quite good. Now, I am tired, and totally ready for bed.This has been a very interesting past couple weeks, internally. I don't know. God seems to be leading me in some interesting directions, and I have great hopes for this new semester. The strangest part about it being that I am more at peace now than I have been in a long time, certainly in comparable situations. Or at least, I am most of the time. The past half-week or so has reminded me of how much our past still affects us, even when we think we've left it behind. This semester has almost more potential than any other to be /really/ tough, but I pray that my irrational fears prove insignificant in God's plan and that any struggles that He sees fit to give me may be opportunities for great grace. I can barely keep my eyes open.

"But you're leaving me here on the defense... [to give up now doesn't make much sense]"

-L

"He was skilled at capturing a feeling that most of us just miss..."

So, I can't believe that I forgot to mention this in the previous entry, but there has been a slight tragedy. I will no longer have a car next year at school. It had been making a scraping noise about 1/3rd of the time when you turn slightly left, so we took it into the shop. The guy said it's the brakes, and we need to replace them for $1,200. Which there is no way we're doing for a $3,500 car. So, yeah. No car next year. It's a bit of a relief knowing I won't have to pay for a parking permit or gas though. And hey, I survived two years without a car anyways. I can still just mooch rides. **shrugs** What can I say... snakes on a plane, I guess.

Anyways, speaking of which: SNAKES ON A PLANE. It was really funny. It was pretty darn funny. If you go into it expecting something other than an over the top movie where the premise is funnier than any of the actual lines, you'll be mislead. It is not funny in that they are quipping one-liners back and forth. In fact, the situation is taken quite seriously by most of the characters. It's the rediculousness of this situation, however, that is funny. It also went way further into the whole triller/horror aspect than I thought it would. I guess I figured it would downplay that side of the movie based on the number of people going to see it purely for the cheese factor. But there are some pretty jumpy/freaky scenes, and some pretty graphic snakebites. For that matter, there is also one rediculously graphic sex-scene which ends, of course, with the amorous couple being bitten by a snake. This movie, as a sort of self-consciously cheesy 80's horror flick, almost requires that sort of scene. This is, however, the start of a five-minute period in which, almost /systematically/, every single erogenous zone is bitten by a snake. You can just imagine the director checking them off on a clipboard or something. So, that whole part was a bit out of control. Ed said that it was "the Wrath of God being revealed unto the fornicators!", which Aaron loved. On the whole: I loved the movie. At least half of it was probably the late night with a bunch of guy friends on opening day, but I would be willing to see it again.

Anyways, after that we headed back to the condo and just chilled for a bit. Kind of my "last night in town". I still have not /actually/ started packing. I cleaned my room/put away all my clothes today, which will make it easier to pack tomorrow. It just doesn't seem real. Not so much the "going back to school" thing, but definitely the "packing all of my belongings" thing. I dunno. We'll see what this next year brings... here's hoping for grace and blessings.

"The simple pain of living with goodbyes on our lips..."

-L

"It's not you... It's just the fact that lives come together, They fade apart..."

A short update tonight before I get to bed. Though I've noticed that even when I intend a short post, it sometimes ends up on the longish side... "c.f." the last post. This week has kind of worn me out, no matter how short it was. And there is plenty to do before it's over. Like, packing. Which, actually, never takes as long as I think it will. So: we have confirmed Snakes on a Plane tickets for tomorrow at 10PM! I'll let y'all know how it is. I am trying to think of some way that I can dress up for the movie... I don't have any snake-costumes. I'm thinking of face-painting snake-eyes on my eyelids. I just feel like doing something fun for my last Ann Arbor fling... Guess what? I found the first CD I ever bought today! I know! It was probably from like, 6th grade. I didn't buy another CD until late 8th grade. But this one was quite a fun find! It's "The Best of James Bond: 30th Anniversary Collection"! Essentially, every Bond theme-song from Dr. No through Diamonds are Forever. Not only does it have a couple tracks on there that are heck of solid ("All the Time in the World" by Louis Armstrong), but it out-nostalgias even most of my "nostalgia" CDs! So yeah. I am pretty geeked to have found that, and I've been listening to it tonight (well, I've moved on now, but I listened to the whole thing once through already... and ripped it to my computer). Also: a poem that I wrote a couple of nights ago. I was considering expanding it, but I'm not sure if I will, so I guess I'll just post it up. It just seems kind of short is all. It is written in a core of dactylic trimeter again. Realize that it is a rough draft, I guess, but feel free to give input/output. Heck, I'm not sure what to title it! So, for now, I present: "Untitled - 8/13/06" Under a streetlamp where two dark roads meet I clearly can see what lies under my feet Though darkness on all sides surrounds me I cannot determine the length of the journey Nor what sort of life each road has at its end I know only that I am here at the crossroads And that I must choose a path ere I begin. "And [leave] pure remnants of an unsure bond. Perhaps we trust too much in this invisible thread to move on..." -L

"Tonight, tonight I'm feelin real good, feelin just about right!"

So, I have a good deal of "last week" things that I could write about. However, I'm pretty tired (I say that /every/ entry) and need to get to bed. So I will probably do a "last week" bullet-point update at some point. For now, dear readers, content yourselves with a brief synopsis of today's mentionable points.

Claire Gilligan had been crossing my mind for some reason the past few days. As usual, being pretty horrible at "getting in touch" with people, I did nothing but think: "Oh, it might be nice to see her in a few days...". However, this afternoon she took a quick break from her frantic packing and we talked for what must have been a few hours. That was probably the highlight of my day. I was glad.

Also, with Ms. Gilligan in mind as I went to fill up my car with gas (it was on empty), I paused to reflect on the fact that she isn't allowed to pump her own gas. This "bringing to mind" of the Gilligan, the actualizing of the superactual reality of knowing Claire, if you will, was further accentuated by the fact that, as I drove up to the station, someone drove off with the hose still in their tank, resulting in it being pulled off of the pump. It detached quite neatly, so I think there was a safety mechanism. That scene from Garden State just sprung to mind though, and seeing as New Jersey is the Garden State, and also seeing as we watched Garden State at Claire's house, Spring Break of this year was brought to mind. Good times. Spring Break had already been mulled over the past day or so due to me having to reface several revelations/convictions that I had over that break. Don't you love it when you're like, "Ah yeah... I was going to work on that, wasn't I?"

Lest this illustrious medium become "The Gilligan Trackers' Digest" (not that that wouldn't be a worthy topic for a very creepy journal), I will mention a few non-Claire related events/thoughts of the day. Directly after I filled up the car, my dad and I went to Dairy Queen and got some ice-cream. I got a small chocolate cone dipped in cherry. I hadn't had that since at /least/ 8th grade, maybe 4th grade. But it was the unvarying standard of my youth. So it was good to relive those childhood days. It still tasted pretty excellent.

Also: I went to 7:30PM Mass today. Happy Feast of the Assumption. I sat next to Aaron, Ed and Bobby, which provided for some hilarious times during the course of the liturgy (e.g. Aaron's voice totally giving out as he stretched for a high note during a song, the very amusing Sign of Peace between Aaron and I). After Mass, Fr. Ed was mass-inducting people into the Brown Scapular. My dad and I had never done it, so (on a semi-whim) we both did. It was something that had been put off for some time. I dunno. We'll see how that whole thing goes. Feels pretty good so far.

Last thing: Aaron, Ed and Bobby and I are probably going to go see "Snakes on a Plane" this Thursday at the midnight showing (this Friday, actually) when it opens. I'm not sure if Ed got the tickets yet, but he was supposed to buy them today. I am quite looking forward to it. I think that my expectations for the movie are accurate (which always makes movies more enjoyable) and it is quite an appropriate cultural event to attend before descending once more to the cultural void of Steubenville.

"Today, today anything goes with me..."

-L