Fun Things

In a bit of a funk [complete existential dilemma] the other day I was talking [complaining] to a friend. She suggested I make sure that I do at least one fun thing every day to ensure a good quality of life during the final weeks of a rough term. Well, I took her advice, and now I feel great!

It all started on Monday when I told myself I would stop homeworking at 8 and do some things for myself. When 8 rolled around I slammed my books shut and went downstairs to watch The Simpsons over a couple of steamy good grilled cheese sandwiches. Then I wrote out my goals for the year. Now I know what you're thinking: writing out goals is no kind of fun, unless you're some kind of mental case that can't function without first writing every little plan out on paper and who is constantly reorganizing everything from the order of the books on the desk to the inner workings of your MyDocs folder.

Touché.

But karma is king. When I woke up on Tuesday morning there was an email from my 9 am class's professor saying she was sick and therefore class was cancelled. I felt so good I bought two of my classmates lunch. That evening: Jeopardy! with my roommate, and we kicked butt (though the 2-day champ and t-babe Aileen blew it in Final Jeopardy to lose).

Me as a SimpsonAnd it doesn't stop there. Today, though I was stuck up at school till after five, when I got home I realized I had nothing big to do for tomorrow—when did I do that homework?—so I watched even more Simpsons till Institute. After Institute I was walking along Court Street when I spied my friend Zach purchasing tickets and the Athena Uptown movie theatre. I said, "Whatcha gonna see?" to which he replied, "Be Kind Rewind."¹ I thought about it for a minute, checked my schedule, considered the fact that I had just seen that movie last Saturday with my sisters, thought about the need to do fun stuff, and bought a ticket. Will the good times never end?

Many thanks to my personal advice buru, E-style. You too can get all kinds of wisdom [excuses for being irresponsible] by checking out her blog, Writing for Writing's Sake.


¹Check that out: a movie title that's both italicized and in quotation marks, and it isn't wrong.

A Multitude of Unused Ink Cartiridges

Well, since I introduced K in the blog finally, I guess I ought to introduce her blog. Special K writes a nice blog about her adventures as a grad student at Notre Dame called "A Multitude of Unused Ink Cartridges." The title is some kind of self-effacing remark on how the blog is a repository for poetry that isn't good enough to waste printer ink on, but you can be the judge of that (no, seriously—I wouldn't know good poetry if it folded itself up into a capital P and clocked me in the head¹).

What can I tell you about K? I don't know that much. I know she taught English in Japan for a time. And that she is great at coming up with code names for all the people mentioned on her blog. From meeting her this weekend I know that she has a nice sense of style and a healthy nervousness about properly hosting guests that translates into a cordialness I'd like to emulate. And we seem to trade off having the longer hair.

Oh, what am I doing? The point is that she is a nice person and smart—smart enough to keep a blog interesting for sure, if you care to read. She could be part of your blog family if you like (you maybe should ask first; I did). You can find it here.

¹K and Joey and I decided that it might be a good idea to carry around a big capital P for clocking people who are being too poetic—you know, those who put on that affected tone of voice to read, haltingly, while savoring the cadence of each word, as they present, their latest work, to you, the culturally, impoverished, people, of, the world. That's one small P for "pretentious," one giant P for "Put a sock in it."

Ride Earth

Ride Earth is the collective name for three British guys who have decided to ride their bikes around the world for the next few years. It has something to do with raising awareness and finding oneself—I'm not really sure of the specifics—mostly I've been paying attention because these guys are younger than me and probably no more clever. They just want to do something big and are doing it. They found some sponsers and used their web design skills to get the word out; currently they keep a blog and publish video podcasts with which you can keep track of their progress. I think they're currently in Turkey, having set out from England in the summer.


I bring this up, one, because I told you I would explain the links I placed in the sidebar, and two, because I really think you should read their recent post concerning the difficulties they've had. If nothing else it is a chilling account of how wicked identity theft can be. Check it out here.

You can get the RSS feed by clicking here (find out what RSS is by clicking here), and you can subscribe to their podcasts by searching "Ride Earth" in your iTunes store or by clicking here.

The Franklin Chronicle

I thought I should let you know about The Franklin Chronicle before tomorrow, seeing how I plan on writing a post that begins with the line, "Today is the first day of autumn, and, coincidentally, it is also Callan's birthday." You'll need to know who Callan is for it all to make sense.

Callan is my friend Joey's soon-to-be-four-year-old son. He also has a nine-ish-month-old son named Nolan. He is married to Melissa, and together they make up the Franklin family. They keep a blog, mostly for their extended family's sake, but if you like pictures of cute children and entries that you might someday read in a revised form in a magazine or something, then it could be for you also.

A little history: Joey and I had a literature class together a few years back (who was it, Joey—Aaron Eastley?). We were both new English majors, and we became acquinted in the course of class discussions and group work. Then there was a semester or so in which we didn't see each other, which was fine because we weren't actually friends, but during that semester apparently we both took creative writing classes and fell in love with creative nonfiction (personal essays and the like). Then one day we ran into each other in the student center. I said, "Hey man, don't we know each other from somewhere?" and Joey said, "Sure, we had that one class together."

"Oh yeah. How's it going with you?"

"Oh, I'm about to leave with my wife and son to teach English in Japan for a year. I fell in love with a thing called the personal essay and now I've joined the honors program in hopes of doing a creative thesis of personal essays with Pat Madden as my faculty advisor. How about you?"

"Oh, I just lost the student body presidential elections¹ and was thinking about joining the honors program as well, plus I took creative writing from Pat Madden and also fell in love with the personal essay. In fact, your idea of doing essays as a thesis is the best idea I've ever heard. Excuse me." And with that, I went to the honors office to sign up. I should probably say about now that I owe everything to Joey and Pat Madden. I owe everything to Joey and Pat Madden.

But it gets better: a year later Joey got back and applied to be a Writing Fellow (a special kind of writing tutor). I remember finding out about it when Joey and I ran into each other someplace just after he got back ("Hey man, don't we know each other from somewhere?), and I also remember sitting in the office, talking to some coworkers, warning them about this creepy twin I had: "No seriously guys, this guy served a mission in Japan; I served in Korea. We're both English majors, both honors students, both creative writers, both doing a thesis of personal essays with Pat Madden, and now we're both Writing Fellows. I think he's trying to steal my life."

And now we're both studying creative nonfiction at Ohio University. Of course, we have things not in common (I seem to be missing a wife and two kids, for instance), and Joey may owe me just as much as I owe him. But who's counting? (No really, I hope he isn't counting, because all the rides he's given me since we got to Athens are adding up.)

This morning we were taking our turn cleaning up the church, and when we were done we were chilling in the gym while Mel practiced the organ. Joey had shown up at my house around nine, woken me up by honking a bunch, and here we were—me in what I slept in (which was what I had worn the day before), hair tangled, teeth unbrushed, still in a stupor lingering from my last dream; Joey seemingly wide awake, dressed, his family dressed (no small order, I understand), and he even had the energy after cleaning the church to play soccer with Callan. I on the other hand had opted to lay on the floor. As we were laughing about something I looked up at him and couldn't help but remark, "Joey, some days I feel like your no good bachelor friend who refuses to settle down and be responsible."

Indeed, for all our similarities, we are constantly being reminded of how different our lives are. You can find out for yourself just how different by reading his blog at www.franklinchronicle.blogspot.com.

¹Of all the *ahem* mistakes I've made, it's hard to believe this is one of them. And it's hard to believe we lost when lavender was our campaign color, when we were an English and a dance major taking on a phalanx of boring poli-sci business gurus, and when this was our campaign commercial. Nothing in my life has the power to so fill me with such embarassment (those sideburns!) and such pride (it's so dang good!) simultaneously as this.

Mere Complexities

Here it is, the first of my promise to explain my followed blogs so you know what you're dealing with.

Mere Complexities is the name of the blog of my friend Amanda. The title comes from a poem by Yeats, whom she digs. Plus, she says it helps her remember not to take her thoughts too seriously, for, after all, they are no more than mere complexities.

Amanda and I have been friends since we both went to London on a study abroad trip. Probably five minutes after we arrived, my brother told her she reminded him just of another great friend of ours, Elisa. And though that was high praise, it wasn't quite right. Upon returning from England we serendipitously lived only feet apart in Provo, and we had two classes together last semester, so we got to see each other quite often. Plus she was my editor when I submitted an essay for publication in the school literary journal, and she gave me great advice. So I found out who Amanda really was.

She is one of those people who spins about her a whole constellation of amazing people, providing the connections and introductions that get those people together. No seriously. If I had to pay her a dime for every very cool person she introduced me to, she'd have like seventy cents. Actually—come to think of it—she didn't really mean to introduce me to any of them. She was just kind enough to let me tag along as she hung out with them or went to their birthday parties.

And yet don't get the idea that Amanda merely has stellar friends—she is one herself. She's one of the rock-steady ones you can always go to for advice or commiseration. She is as cheerful and warm as the street waffles she used to share in London (didn't we burn Andrew with one of those one time? Maybe that was in revenge for comparing you to Elisa)—in fact, she seems to always be sharing. In her house last year she had the most elaborate hot chocolate setup I've ever seen, and she was always offering us some with deluxe gourmet cocoa and whipped cream and sprinkles and chocolate shavings, all frothed up with an electric stirrer. Plus we share a secret sentiment, but that's a secret.

And I am so totally excited that she has a blog, because now she can share her writing. I've long known her for her editing expertise and her good opinion, but now I get to see herself in action. How's that for pressure, Amanda?

Overheard Lines

I found a blog today that was after my own heart. It's called "Overheard Lines," and it consists of merely that: things overheard, usually out of context, which makes it all the better. Plus the blogger comes up with a clever title for each line, giving it one more boost of fun—like writing funny captions for pictures on a bulletin board, something we all did ten years ago, yes?

I've loved the idea of overheard lines ever since E, my dear friend, introduced me to them a few years back. Her great example was seeing two people walking through the student center, hand in hand, and the boy turned to the girls and said, "What was your name again?" Classic.

Once I was in the bookstore listening to a girl having a loud cell phone conversation in which she was explaining a rather extensive plan some boy was implementing for some girl, something involving flowers delivered to her work, candy snuck into her car, and all manner of other romantic gestures. She finished with this line: "He's going to propose to her—and she has a BOYFRIEND!"

You can read "Overheard Lines at http://overheardlines.blogspot.com/, or you can just click on it in the "Blogs I Follow" area to the left.