Morning's glories.

For quite some time, I have missed the morning. I haven't overslept (I wish I had!), nor have I been away from it somehow; I've participated in it, I've gotten up and had my coffee, I've watched the news, etc., etc. But I have not reveled in it. I have not enjoyed it as I used to do. For many years, morning was my favorite time of day-- I loved the stillness, the quiet, the semidarkness just before the sun crests over the horizon. I loved drinking my tea (or, of late, my coffee) and letting my body wake from dreaming. Mornings were, in a way, magical to me. They were the genesis of a new day. It was as if God Himself came down and hovered in the steam above my mug, and played in the dew on the grass or the mist in the Tennessee air.

But this past year has been different.

Mornings have simply become a means to and end. They morphed into a time for cramming as much caffeine into my system as possible before jumping into the shower, dressing, and running out the door to head for campus and the day's activities. This was and is a sad regression. I don't know what brought it on: a change in scenery perhaps? A change in habit? Perhaps.

Now, having finally moved out of my apartment on W. Clark St. in Champaign, I feel I have started over. I have hit a metaphorical "Reset" button that has taken me to a time before this year-- before college, even-- and to a place where mornings are once again calming and reflective. I write all of this to point out that this "return of morning" is quite appropriate and much welcomed for me. It has come with other things as well-- I've been reading voraciously, writing more, and sleeping (a bit) more.

My life seems to have returned to me.

Words...

... are so much fun.

My, my...

I can't believe it's already exam week. I feel like spring break only just ended, I feel like I have so much time, so much opportunity-- but, I don't. I'm done. My cards are on the table, and if my hand sucks, then, well, I'm just out of luck. My mind cannot comprehend the fact that in less that one week, I will be a junior in college. A junior. Was it really that long ago when I was a junior in high school, when we were having pool parties in my backyard, when my car still had only twenty thousand miles on it?

...how the time simply flies.

Lost my voice.

After trying to convince everyone I know up here in the Midwest/Chicagoland that Nashville and Franklin are the greatest places on earth-- after defending them against those who think Nashville is nothing but a conglomeration of rednecks-- it pains me to see the most beautiful place on earth become God's mud puddle. I know this isn't Katrina, this isn't Haiti, this isn't a giant oil spill that threatens the marine life of the Gulf Coast, but it is my home, and I will forever wish the best for it. I spent some of the greatest times of my life making memories in many of the places that now find themselves submerged under dirty water (LP Field, the Opryland Hotel, even the Sonic on 96). My prayers don't feel sufficient right now; I want to be there to help. I want a magical Sham-wow to soak everything up and put things right.

I love you Nashvegas, and I hope to see you back to your old self real soon.

UMich and Mr. President.

There are times when my Illinois Loyalty sneaks up on me. For instance, UMich has Barack Obama as their Commencement speaker, and the first thing I thought was: "We better outdo that."

Now, one cannot really "outdo" something like a Commencement address; it's a speech, after all. (And more than that, it's a speech with a predetermined message/goal: to inspire graduates, kick-off the rest of their lives, etc.) But that didn't stop my orange and blue blood from leaping in my veins.

I'm one more step toward total indoctrination. And I'm enjoying it.

Hesitation.

I know repeat this often, but please spare me your criticism: I do a poor job of keeping this blog up-to-date.

I mean, I wrote a fairly lengthy piece about my Ebertfest experience, but only got as far as putting it in the "Draft" folder before going to bed and vowing to edit it in the morning. Obviously, I have not made much progress in editing it, as it still has not made its way out of the Draft folder and onto my homepage. I am often torn when it comes to blog posts, as I feel that while I generally have something to say, I would rather do my ideas justice than have them be deposited in vulgarized form on this blog. Thus, I have many Word Doc files with half-typed papers on all sorts of things, but a blog containing nothing. (I am re-writing a novel forheavensake). I'm not someone who advocates half-baked theologies or poorly-penned philosophies-- if you want to write a treatise, then do so, but please don't post it on Blogger or Wordpress. When I see your spelling mistakes and errors in syntax, it degrades whatever you are trying to say (which, many times, cannot be adequately said in something you are by nature trying to condense into blog form anyway). I find it only fair that, if I criticize others for doing these things, then I shouldn't do them myself.  So, what should I do? My life is often too boring to simply offer updates, which is why I also neglect my Twitter account. If anyone reads this and would like to offer some suggestions, I would be more than happy to consider them.

Until then.

Vita mihi mortuus est.

I'm in a bit of a caffeine haze, so this post may not represent my writing at its most eloquent; however, I have a few spare minutes, and thought that an update was in order. I just got out of yet another advising meeting (met w/ Prof. Layton of the Religion Dept. last week about my Medieval Studies stuff) where I discovered just how much I will have to cram into the next two years in order to graduate well. And by "graduate well," I mean "graduate with honors." In addition to studying abroad (which may or may not set me back credit-wise), I will have to take three honors seminars on top of an Independent Study in which I will write my senior honors thesis. To avoid having to take all three honors seminars Fall of my senior year, I must find a way to make one fit into next semester's already tight schedule. This has proven difficult.

I've also been trying to dedicate myself to my writing--establishing goals, that sort of thing-- which has seen only nominal success. I must dedicate myself to strive once again for near perfection. Last post, I mentioned how I felt run down, depleted. In my last line, I wrote that I desperately needed something to "wake me up." Perhaps this upcoming year will act as the catalyst to fuel my faltering life. If nothing else, it will force me to get my head back in the game, to cull my true priorities from the empty obligations, and to pursue once more the goals I have set for myself.