I survived

I survived the semester. *deep sigh of relief* Just barely made it by the skin of my teeth, but I made it. Yay! In the words of Hiro Nakamura, "I did it!"

Tales of a two-person shower

So, for those of you who don't know me that well, my apartment last semester had a shower with two showerheads. My roommates and I decided to put a curtain between the two showerheads so two people could take showers at once. We didn't want to be taking showers together; we aren't that gay... Or so I thought!
One day, I was sitting in the livingroom reading, while Tom and Isaac got into their respective showers. I was sitting there for a while and could hear them talking and singing duets, then I hear Isaac yell, "Tom, stay in your own shower!" Tom replies abstinately, "NO!" I look up, and go on reading; just a normal day in Kriegbaum 208.
A couple months later, I woke up and got in the shower before class. Tom, who had also woken to get ready for class, hops in the other shower. I turn on the water, and wash my hair drowsily. Then I feel something soft rubbing against my back. So, I wash the soap out of my eyes and look back to see a hand coming across the curtain, rubbing soap on my back. I laugh and slap his hand. I continued washing, and a few minutes later, I feel a similar something rubbing, but this time on the back of my leg. I look down, and it was Tom's braceletted hand again. I turn of the shower and go back to class.
For all the akwardness of those moments, they are the ones I will remember longest and charish most of all...

Insomnia

Well... I can't fall asleep. I think it's a combination of an uncomfortable bed and an overactive head. The fun thing about being a student is that during the school year, my brain is going constantly, trying to keep up with 22-24 units of course material and homework. By the time, I get to my bed, I am so exhausted, I usually fall asleep somewhere inbetween taking my pants off and lifting my leg onto the first rung of the bunkbed ladder. But, come May 2nd, my academic activity level plunges so low that little stalagtites start to form on the underside of my brainstem. All the sudden, no homework, no classes, no fiftymillion performances—nothing. My brain, thereforre, much like a goldfish that is plunged into its tank without floating in the little baggy to adjust, can't handle the transition. So here I am. It's 3:13 am and my brain is ticking away; suspended tonality, chord plurality, and the lyrics to songs I was supposed to memorize weeks before won't stop running through my head. For some reason, I can't stop thinking about the florentine camerata, a theater group in Renaissance Italy, out of which the stile recitativo and what came to be known as Opera formed. Why, do you ask, is this screaming through my head at this ungodly hour? Because it was the fourth question on my World Theater final, and my brain is still in study mode, even though school has been out for a month. So, here I am. I got up a few minutes ago and ate some pasta that Joel made for dinner. I didn't really want the pasta, I just wanted the savory chicken. Oh, chicken, chicken! Wherefore art thou chicken? Deny thy feathers and refuse thy beak. Or if thou wilt not, be sworn to my tummy and no longer be in the bowl. I figure that maybe eating will divert my bodies attention to my stomach rather than my brain. And boy, do I appreciate some good chicken. Wash it down with a glass of milk and I'm ready for bed. So, now I bid you farewell. I shall return to bed, with thoughts of Italian Theater and shakespearean chicken breast floating in my head. Soon I will have to wake, and endure a four hour drive to LA for a theater arts conference. Wish me luck. Hopefully, a little activity will help my brain swim around in cold waters, with no little plastic bag to aid the transition.

The Concept of Home

It seems like, in college, our concept of home becomes less solid than before. During the school year, our families learn, sometimes with great difficulty, to live without us. And when we return, the process of unlearning the rythms and movements of a home that is one person less full begins. It seems, though, that we, students I mean, don't have a place any longer. Our house seems much less as ours. Instead, it seems as though we are a guest in our one house. In short, our dwelling becomes a house, and not a home; our concept of home becomes, well, a concept and no longer a reality. But when is it that we find that feeling of home again. Is it when we live with our roommates, and begin to make that situation a family instead of a group of acquaintances and friends? Is it when we move out on our own and have our own house, when does that house become a home? Is it when we move in with a girl? Is it when we get married? Or is it when the union of two souls births, out of abundance of love, another being to become a recepticle of this superabundance of passion? Only time will tell, because I haven't been able to call any house home for years. When my parent's divorced, home became less than a concept, it became a memory—a memory colored with joy and great sadness. I've come to believe that home is a place where love unifies. For this reason, I think home is the place where a love is shared fully, without division, without summers off. Home is that one thing that is constant, that is why it is such a comfort. When work sucks and school blows and your social life does a little of both, home is still home. Home is love—unified, centralized, uncompromised. Home is a location and an emotion compressed into one idea. So when we find people, a place, and an emotion, then put them together all at once, that is home. Whether that means, to you, a family of blood or a family of friends, home is that place.

My Blog Virginity

Well... It seems that this is my first blog. Yippy! Anywho... Here is my brain vomit for the today:
I have spent all of the summer up to this point basically being lazy in my own overachieving way. I have gone on choir tour already and memorized a play; now I'm rehearsing, reading three composition books, learning a couple of pieces of music, practicing bass, and sitting around doing nothing with the remainder of my time. Yay for summer! But I miss my friends, most of all my roommates. They are leaving for the summer, Tom to Germany and Isaac to Horsey Camp. Boy am I gonna miss rooming with him.
I was thinking about it, and God has graced me with some amazing friends in College. I was afraid that when I got into college that I would have no friends like highschool. But right off the bat, when I first stepped into my dorm before leadership retreat, there were Isaac and Tom. They were always right around the corner. Isaac and I would go out and seduce women, then come back and IM eachother from across the hallway. And I couldn't help but think, how awesome is our God that he would put me in a dorm with those guys. Then the next year, I got to spend a year in an apartment with those guys, which was one of the greatest things ever. We talked to eachother in bed, and took showers together (not in a gay way, there was a curtain separating us), and even shared conversations while on the toilet. Now, first of all, I never expected to ever sleep with, shower with, or poop nexto any of these guys; but, college wouldn't be the same without those experiences. But I'm sad because next year, Isaac won't be right down the hall, or in the next shower stall, or in the bed next to mine. He will still be at FPU, but he's gonna be all the way across campus. It's a small campus sure, but I'm gonna miss that dude.