Ransom Note
Jacob Metcalf
It's been a long time since I heard a song that I loved the first time I heard it. Well, until 3 minutes ago it had been a long time.
Then I stumbled onto jacobmetcalf.com . Jacob lived down the hall from me when I was a freshman at Harding, and we'd talk every week or two. I always admired the way he always had a happy, yet calm outlook on all the happenings in our lives. I don't know what you call it, but he always came up with just the right way to look at things.
I'd tease him about his sister. We would sit and ponder our futures. I'd tease him about his sister some more. He always insisted she wasn't interested in me, but I knew he was really just trying to trick me. He'd walk the halls and serenade anyone who would listen....and some folks who wouldn't.
Click "Tunespeak" and check out "Bend." I don't know what genre you're supposed to call this stuff. Maybe just, "good." And it's coming from that guy from down the hall who had a hot sister (who was a nice girl).
You're missing out if you don't check out his stuff. Jacob, I give it a 10, just like your sister.
Fort Moultrie
Sam, Mandi, Amber, and I went to Fort Moultrie the other day. We saw some stuff, and we did some things, and it was fun.
We were so glad to see them. I haven't heard anything from either since they left, but I hope they made it home safe last night.
The Roundup
This post should have been divided and written in daily installments. Instead, here's the lowdown.
Amber and I are beginning our sixth month of marriage. I like to tease her by saying that nobody else could possibly make six months feel more like six years.
We've been a busy pair of bees these past few months. She balances teaching bratty runts, while I play at school with teeth and (mostly) nice people.
Papa and Mimi flew in and spent the weekend before Thanksgiving with us. We mostly poked around downtown. Mimi marveled at the flowers in planters on Rainbow Row. Papa seemed impressed with the architecture. He even went into an art gallery. I regret not taking them to one of the plantations for a look-see. Maybe we can talk them into flying to Savannah some day for a tour down there. I like the turret porches and Queen Anne style better than the Charleston style anyhow. Thanks for coming, ya'll.
Then we were off to Nashvegas for some fun times with the inlaws, good food, football, mongolian barbecue, and an introduction to the "grandpuppy." Amber's only response to such a brash (but creative) message was to a remark about how we hope that the grandpuppy holds them over. Otherwise, we might need to borrow a neice for a day or two. There aren't really any other solutions that I can imagine. It looks like a cross between a Mogwai (remember Gremlins?) and a gerbil anyhow.
Amber's birthday was the 27th. I went back to East Bay street and "acquired" some of those flowers that impressed Mimi.
This is finals week. Two down, two to go. I'm looking forward to Christmas break.
I'll probably head to North Augusta on Sunday and hang out with Mom, Dad, and the kiddos until Amber begins Christmas break on th 18th. Maybe we'll get to see Jaime and the melanin challenged kiddos as well.
Then we're off to Texas for some time with my end of the family. That's all I got to say about that.
Tetris
If it makes me laugh out loud, then it's worth passing on.
By the way, this would be an amazing camp game.
Human tetris courtesy of BigSam82
Dumb emails
I absolutely hate dumb emails. I get them from time to time from a variety of sources. Lately I've received a series of especially annoying messages from one of the 2nd years who is in charge of planning the dental school Christmas party. Amber and I won't be going. In fact, I don't know anybody who is because they're having it 3 days after exams are over.
I present to you the most annoying email of all time.
tomorrow is the (as flanders would say) ab-so-toodle-lee-doodle-lee LAST day to buy "tickets" for the lame-named, though politically correct "snow ball".
that means you can't buy them at the door. that means you can't buy them the week of. that means if you don't buy them tomorrow, SEE ya. more rosemary & sea salt rubbed lamb and godiva chocolate fondue for the rest of us.
they are 20 bucks.
you can catch anna louise, ryan, or me at lunch or you can try to contact us to meet up.
-challah at a playa when you see me in the streets.
Changes
I suppose it's time I announce a few changes to my little corner of the internet. I've hired a co-thinker to add to the confusion here at FR. And by hired, I mean that I sent Amber an Email invite. My little corner will now be our little corner.
I hope she takes the time to share some of her thoughts.
Happy Birthday to Amber
Last year, I wasn't too smooth with Amber's birthday. Looking back as I can now, I like to think I was smart enough to leave room for improvement. Another year has come and passed, and once again, I did better, but there's still room for improvement.
This time she gets flowers:
Burning Water
Contrary to popular belief that grease fires are the only way to make water burn, some goober accidentally discovered that salt water will burn when you send a few radio waves through it.
Now that's cool. It definitely makes this blog.
Rec League Soccer
If at first you don't succeed
, 
,
Try
,
Try
,
Try 
,
Try 
again.
Philip, Paul, and I could all try to keep up with the other kids. We did ok. Diana wasn't interested in anything related to competition.
And then there's Austin.
We went to Austin's rec league soccer game a few weeks ago. He's faster than all the other 5 year olds, and he isn't shy about it. Each Saturday morning Austin makes a few predictions about how many goals he'll score that day. Nobody is supposed to keep score, but if nobody keeps count, then the event is only 15 kids chasing a ball around the field. Austin keeps score, therefore he plays soccer. And he has a nasty habit of taunting the slower, less talented and less pigmented children.
Dad, who has waited patiently year after year may finally have the athletic kid he always dreamed about. Now, while he sits on the sidelines, Dad can trash talk all the other parents who are 20 years younger.
Harding Days
Why come up with something original when you can piggyback on somebody else's work?
I saw Logan S at church Sunday morning. It was good to see him and to talk and hear that some things just don't seem to change all that much.
Harding University is a special place with some peculiar traditions and its own vocabulary. I thought I'd check YouTube to see what kind of trouble those kids are up to.
This one smells like a Student Impact compilation.
I think
I think this is quite possibly the weirdest commercial I have ever witnessed.
What I think
I had an interesting conversation with a friend at school the other day. "Let's be honest" she said, "What I want most is a husband and kids." I was taken back a little, because that's not the typical dream for most of the girls in graduate level education--at least, it's not the kind of thing that they are willing to admit. Her blunt response wasn't awkward though. I appreciated it.
Figuring out what I want is hard enough. Translating it into words and sharing it with somebody else. Well, that's a whole new ball game.
Quite frankly, I don't like telling people what I actually think. For example, it's a constant challenge for me to tell my bride that I love her. I do. Madly, wildly, uncontrollably. But telling her remains a daily challenge.
I'm quite happy to share some version of my thoughts(i.e. it's easy to tell her she's beautiful), but I almost never convey my actual feelings(I need her). I hold back. Resist. Refrain--especially when it's written, which is why I appreciate, and even envy, those who are able to thoughtfully convey their innermost desires. Exposed and easy prey, they articulate their actual feelings for the world to consider, to judge, to mock, and occasionally, to adore.
When we speak of past failures, it is easy to gloss over the low times. People who are failing don't usually come out and admit it; nor do they wear a stamp on their foreheads. They deny what is real and choose to view a miserable time or a big mistake as a something smaller, more manageable, and less consequential. My alcoholic friend "just does it because he likes it." And the cheater friend. Well, it was justified because you "needed more."
Physical pain is easy to acknowledge. Emotional pain is easy to hide. What I want is easy to feel, but it is hard to say. What I do is easy to share, but my hearts desires are hard to expose. Here's a toast to honesty, especially honesty in failure, which should not be mistaken for complaining. That's another animal altogether.
We are a planet of fake Supermans, running around in red capes and imagining that we can use our x-ray vision to get richer, smarter, and happier.
I want to thank you.... for being human. Special props go to you who have eloquently shared what you actually think.
Thanks friend from the other day. Your candor made my day. Maybe even my week. No matter how hard you try, it really isn't enough.
And other friend from the other other day, you don't have to be cheery and fun. You're sad, and you should be. You needn't wear a mask. This isn't a show. Our life is not a masquerade. Thanks for being sad when you needed to be sad. You remind me that it's ok to hurt, and it's ok to not be ok.
So not everybody in high school liked you, and you were rejected. I know it hurt. Thanks for saying what you really thought.
Maybe tomorrow, I'll be able to write on my own thoughts and my own failure. But you can be my superhero today.
The Charleston Peninsula, part 2
A few weeks ago, I posted a picture of the East side of the Charleston peninsula.
Today, I present the West side of the Charleston peninsula.
Too good to be true
Don't believe most of what you hear, half of what you read, and some of what you see.
I almost never forward emails, and I never forward forwarded emails because some things just sound a little too good to be true.
Much like the "Support our Praying President" emails that I received before he was exposed as a Christian fraud, the deer fish email that I received and published on my blog was a partial fake. Never trust a President's PR photographers, and never, never trust an email that says "fwd" on it. I'd like to apologize to anyone who may have lost bet money or the respect of his friends for believing anything that I published.
The deer wasn't caught in Charleston. She was in the Chesapeake Bay.
Oh, and I think I'm voting libertarian.
It's too cold to blog
Summer came to an abrupt halt today, and it's too cold to blog.
Instead, I'll attach a picture of the Cold War Submarine memorial.
Deerfish
I received these pictures from a friend of a friend with the title:
"Caught 1 1/2 miles offshore Charleston, SC on Tuesday Oct 23"
I wonder, do you need a hunting permit or a fishing permit to catch a deer in the ocean? And what kind of bait would you use?
Way to go USMC guy.
For my brother
Hotmail and CBS Sportsline without the skanky ads:
Here are the links to the must-have software for your computer.
1. Download Firefox
2. Get the AdBlock Plus add-on
3. Also get the Filterset.G Updater for AdBlock.
It's simple and free. And it's a little faster than Internet Explorer anyhow.
Public good or private right?
For the good of the people, or private right to condos?
More here.
another lame post
It's not nice to rip off other people. But "Be original" is a waste of time, and it's too difficult.
Maybe it's foolish for this Gamecock fan to mock overrated teams , but my hatred for ND might have to trump good sense. Here's to hoping that the 'cocks don't manage to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.