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Liviu Librescu   
02:51pm 17/04/2007
 
mood: Half-Mast
Liviu Librescu. Today's buzz word is: Liviu Librescu. This man died at the age of 76. By my caluclations that means he was born between 1930 and 1931. He was a survivor of the Holocaust, and because that's unique he got the most air-time today. Do I believe that this man should be mourned? You bet your ass I do. I simply think that we need to shed the appropriate light on the situation. It would be far too easy to look at this man and the quick sentence that news channel use to sum him up and feel bad. To pity him and minimize his life, saying "He made it through the Holocaust to die now...to die in America?"

I'm not one to praise something that is bad, or to drive myself mad looking for a silver lining, but I do try to look at things for what they are. The Shoah, or Holocaust, should never have happened, but that one man went through it saved the life of a number of students yesterday. Had Liviu Librescu not suffered at the hands of the Nazis he might not have had the courage or strength to block a doorway. Blocking that doorway saved lives. That, to me, is heroism. That, to me, is living.

How is everyone reacting today? Today we have the name of the shooter. Today people are walking around knowing that it was that Asian-American and that he was 23. People forget that Asia is a continent and that South Korea is very small. People forget that his note was an accusatory one because people don't want to be accused. I don't want to vindicate this perpetrator, but I wish we could look at the whole picture. TV is telling you that he was once on an anti-depressant but no one cares to hear because these days, who hasn't been on an anti-depressant?

Today people are laughing at the situation, just so long as the butt of the jokes is this perpatrator. I can't honestly fault them for laughing. This is how we're taught to recover. We are kings of the situational comedy because we usually appreciate a lighter view at life. These joksters will be called assholes. The victims will be called heros. This shooter will be called a villan. And the news will make money. I guess I should just accept it. I just wish we could change it.

Back to the drawing board.
 
     

(Toe The Line?)

 
Jamal Albarghouti   
03:23pm 16/04/2007
 
mood: Disgusted
Jamal Albarghouti: That was the name that CNN International had on it's banner. Of all the kids that were probably witness to the events that took place at Virginia Tech this morning, that was the name. For those watching in restaurants and coffee rooms, with no sound or full story, that's not the type of name that should be across the screen. It is far too easy for people to make a bad assumption when a name that could easily be associated with many ethnicities outside of W.A.S.P. is flashed upon the screen.

I'm not trying to detract from what happened today, but neither my thoughts or yours will restore the lives lost this morning. I was just saddened to read how "formed" some of these news reports are. Start with 'Epic Proportions' 'Worst in U.S. history' and 'Horrific' and then throw in the name of a school, or a new death toll, or...sadly that's all. Maybe a new picture. Don't get me started on the pictures. They are of the school's buildings, and bloodied humans being carried in ways that seem less beneficial than these persons deserve. These images don't belong on television screens.

We're not doing much to fix it. We're just getting people to tune in. Kids where I am now ask if someone heard about it without ceasing to smile. It's not that they find it funny, but that it's not serious enough to them to cause a moment of solemnity. People died, and several more are injured. And now more will be hurt as the media and a moronic president step in to offer condolances that will not rectify the wrongs done. Because come tomorrow we'll be more interested in the large amounts of Pirated media in Beijing that we finally destroyed, and Paul Wolfowitz's girlfriend than we will about stopping the next school shooting. For shame.

What about reaching outcast children? What about monitoring the type of music that is available (Not to blame music)? What about making weapons less accessible? What about figuring something out, because Michael Moore movies just don't seem to be enough. If this cannot drive us to fix something, what will? Nothing.

This is an American epidemic. What will we do to stop it? This is America. What will we do to fix it?
 
     

(1 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
AU ID: 2024022   
02:49pm 27/02/2007
 
mood: creative
Below is the essay I submitted for my American University application. I think it's good, but nothing to write home about. It just seemed like something that belongs in a journal.

Prompt:


"A. Imagine you are the editor of a major national news magazine. Write the cover story you would choose for the issue that would be on the newsstands January 1, 2025."


Essay:


New York, N.Y.—Twenty-four years after John Slabyk gave the American youth a pessimistic shirt which accused, “They lied to us. This was supposed to be the future. Where is my jetpack…my dinner in pill form…my cure for this disease?” we still see no signs of aerial highways or time travel. Man has, however, reached a new aesthetic and artistic summit, and a way to take a different perspective on the times in which we live. Child-of-Broadway Taylor Williams, known recently for his blockbuster films, is returning home to premiere a new production entitled The Last Angel to Fall. Williams, who has written the book, lyrics, and music, describes his opus as a return to realism and existentialism as we’ve been too afraid to acknowledge or achieve in the last fifty years.

The show traces the story of a man who knowingly lives according to his misguided faith as an alternative to dredging through a depressed life devoid of so many answers and rife with skepticism. The leading character is not this blissful ignorant but rather an “anti-theist” who, in his opening invocation to the audience, informs of the difference between not caring about belief and choosing to believe in nothing. He warns that the former almost always ends with a strong devotion to a god of the masses.

The show’s producer says, “It’s a cacophony of truths that challenge us to cease the perpetuation of so many archaic stereotypes.” The novelty of this show seems to be its lack of self-righteousness. It accepts that humanity has some errors but doesn’t send the mixed message of simultaneously condoning them. This should make the show accessible to people and keep them willing to listen.

Too often is the concept of recurring patterns in history harped upon without action. If it’s true that over time things are more and more the same then we should find a way to eliminate the uglier side of the human condition and accentuate the more pleasant. One critic claims, though, that as Broadway becomes more of a tourist attraction than a haven in which artists can have an outlet, the more potential the theatre loses to be a great soapbox. This raises the question, “Can a musical really change the world?”

When asked what his ultimate goal for his musical is, Williams said, “To eliminate black history month, because we’ll have truly overcome the inequalities of the past; to eliminate AIDS awareness walks, because no one will for a moment forget the pandemic that we have yet to escape; to eliminate infomercials because they’re annoying. Or rather, because we’ll buy out of need and not ability. Poverty is still suffocating someone somewhere. Not in the third world, what ever that means, but in this world. This is what matters, and this is what I hope my show will remind its viewers.”

His mood suggests the feeling that politicians will debate, businessmen will conquer, chemists will create a pill, and doctors will send a bill. But until debating solves hunger, more buildings solve homelessness, or pills enable us to deal with the nature and necessity of loss, he’ll work on the world the best way he knows how: with laughter, stirring music, and a sobering look at who and what we are…and should become.
 
     

(Toe The Line?)

 
A Praise Chorus   
11:06pm 05/10/2006
  Somewhere in a psychological evaluation of my two-year old self is a statement to the effect of, Praise from the proctor doesn’t seem to affect Taylor’s performance. I don’t know if everyone read that and decided to stop praising me, if it was true enough that I stopped listening to and for praise, or if I’m simply not worthy of accolades. My guess that it would be the most latter of those suggestions, still I find myself listening for a word of “Way to go!” or “That’s awesome!” from time to time. Or perhaps I straddle the fence, and I simply don’t listen to everything nice said about me. I don’t know what is making this surface right now, but these are the thoughts that stagnate in the cesspool of my mind beneath the random quotes, and elaborate side-stepping conversations. I suppose before I question whether I’m being given the nurturing elements I feel that I’m lacking I should decide if I give compliments to others that I long enough to write about.

At work I try to encourage my teammates. Perhaps my negativity and sarcasm cancels it all out, but I do try. When I have to sit a manager down, which I do so as not to disrespect him or her, I make clear that they know I like them for a number of reasons before I attack the isolated incident(s) that lead to the sit-down.

I do not feel that I’m getting the positive feedback at work that I’d like. People that like my service simply learn to rely on me, and managers perhaps do the same. Not until they tell me what I’ve done wrong do they let me know it’s not to discount all I do well. What happened to a good old-fashioned preemptive strike? On the bright side I have had a particularly high number of guests pull me aside to tell me what a great job they feel I’ve done. As slow as it is there is no reason I shouldn’t brink food-service perfection.

At school? I don’t show up to Math enough for credit, though I clearly excel when there, I don’t do well enough in Physics or bowling, my Speech professor has the memory of a...creature with bad memory, and my Soci teacher is about making everyone feel they’ve done well, so--needless to say--my meager contributions are tallied up as points for the collective congregation of students. Does it matter what they think anyway? They aren’t seeing me perform in that to which I want to dedicate my career years.

Within my relationship? Well, I guess that all I feel, other than unyielding love, is that we don’t see one another enough. The other night I had the power to control that situation, and I failed to make the right decision. Looking at my gas tank, and my bank account maybe it was best decision, but with her offer to help pay, it definitely wasn’t the right decision. Maybe that’s my lack of providing for her the support she needs. Not that it wouldn’t have done me a great deal of good to see her. She is ever-supportive. It does feel at times as though she doesn’t care to hear the next thing I have to say, but know that I do repeat myself I can’t say that I blame her. Maybe if I heard more of what she’s telling me she’s already heard, I wouldn’t back her into such a corner. Something amazing that she’s been doing is being very understanding of the time that I’m spending with Danielle (Ellē-Marie). I couldn’t ask more of her than that she do that. That I take as a great deal of consideration, and a form of praise higher than I could ignore. Perhaps, I don’t even need to go into how I feel about situations with Alvino and Mattie. That they should praise me is irrelevant. Maybe I’m simply still adjusting to having fewer people around, and getting used to my slightly more introverted self. My esteem and self-image took a painful blow through high school, and I’m still giving the wounds un-bandaged air. Like someone who has been too long under protection I’m a little numb to certain things. I suppose that I don’t know how to interact as I used to. I say too much, desensitized as ever. Or I say too little, nerve-wrecked. I know I have Emily’s support. I just don’t want to upset her at all.

I feel like even my breakfast attempt for her was half-assed. I feel like I’m shorting her time on the phone or time in person. I guess this is a battle for dialectics...

Atop this I miss my perfectly ghetto Escondido. I realize that people in Escondido don’t know what a real ghetto is. Neither do I, but I recognize that it isn’t it. Yet I pity them. They have the family and funds to have something more, something different, something better, and that’s what they get. Too small to be known, to big to escape. Cute and cozy on one side, and bustling with a foreign culture no more than 7 miles to the West. I feel excommunicated, like I abandoned her, and now I’m only to return for 10 days at a time before extradition to my new home. She’s right: I couldn’t move back there now. But what if I could? Would I take advantage of First Night? Would I be back in theatre, and would I have given up meat? Who knows...I like where I am. With the warm complements of my loving girlfriend (Who, by the way, Mom has been heralding as my fiancée!). Here with the regularity of a job that I’ve held for nearly two years! Here with the great deal on a good house, to which people are finally okay with coming. Here with an Associate’s Degree almost finished. Here where I can make the money for another European excursion. Here with the confidentiality of Alvino, and the big fluffy heart of Mattie. Here with Ellē-Marie, who is quite patient, and refreshingly open. Here with the Weyman’s who have been quite forgiving and who are quite welcoming. Really because Emily. This isn’t to say that it’s her fault that I’m out here, but rather that I’m glad and proud to be here because of her. She is the love of my life, no matter how little I see her, or how close I’ll allow someone else to become as a friend, “I survive on the air [Emily] is finished with.”

I’ll sing my own praise chorus. I am what I am, I don’t need praise I don’t need pity, I bang my own drums. Some think it’s noise, some think it’s pretty.
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
Social Penetration?   
01:20am 04/10/2006
  I don’t know what I’m doing up, but since I’m awake, I’m going to post:

I just used maps.google.com to find my mom’s house. I found a few other places including my residence, and Sweetwater Tavern (Which is where I work). It felt very comforting to know that the world is not such a huge place. I don’t know if it was comforting in the sense that if a serial killer is going to be on the loose, there is a greater chance that he will end up in the same place as I, or if it was just nice to see where my family is tonight, but there was something sweet about it all. I know that the technology has been out for a while. There is actually a website that takes aerial photos of France since they didn’t feel that google earth did them enough of a service, but I haven’t actually taken the time to look at San Diego. Man, is it beautiful! I’ve recently joined a group on facebook which discusses what little renown Escondido has across the country, let alone worldwide. But I can’t help but love that. Hell, it’s named Hidden Valley, maybe it wasn’t meant to be found. It’s such a versatile city, and it is mine. Or at least it was mine. It’s very embarrassing to admit, and somewhat saddening, but when I was looking it over on the map, for a second, just a brief second, I forgot if one crossed Mission or Washington first heading South from El Norte (El Norte by the way, is not an acceptable word to my spellcheck [Then again neither is “spellcheck” as one word]). I’m happy to be going back home, but to be honest, the more that I type in this here post, the more anxious I am than anything else. I’ll want to visit friends, lest I think that it was not the most fulfilling trip home, but I don’t know what to say to these people. I don’t know them anymore. They are students, and near-graduates. They are models, and musicians. They are more knowledgeable now in Chemistry and Literature than they have ever been. And it’s not their knowledge that scares me. It’s that they have followed paths pointing away from me, even if that’s simply a synonym for a picked a direction away from theirs. I suppose it will just be good to see family, to see Nathan and JB. To see Roy and the rest of SOS. I trust that things will be well with Heather at least, if not with Beth. I guess I’ve just got to get the money together. Shouldn’t be too hard to do. It’ll definitely be nice to get away from here for a little bit. A week is actually a long time. The only thing that will suck is that Emily is joining me out there 4 days after I’ve arrived. It’ll be nice to dedicate myself to my mom because I’m not more focused on spending time with Emily, but I’ll definitely miss her. This will be my first time flying out there without her in...2 years and 10 months. Crazy! I might be getting a new tattoo while I’m out there. I’m just trying to decide if I want to get the Ichthys where I always thought I had or on my left leg as an addition to the Magen David. The only reason I question this is not because I question my faith, but I’m starting to consider the symbols and how they have as much potential of representing bad in another culture, or even in the dominate American culture, as they do good. Also, I consider the addition of other symbols, such that they don’t expressly go against other symbols on my leg, but they do uphold ideals of mine. If that were the case I almost think that I would want it all wrapping around the same leg. Perhaps not. I’m gonna stick with the script since that is what I’ve decided upon, and if I want to add on later, then it’ll just require a bit more creativity, right?

Onto a different topic, I’ve been trying to sort through all the music that I downloaded back in my high school days. I’ve got some good stuff I’ve noticed. I actually had 3 full Guster CDs except for one bonus track. I also found that I have all of Urinetown, to which I’ve been wanting to listen for sometime now. Downside is that I had more of the Footloose soundtrack than I did of the Original Cast Recording. Which sorta sucks because I like the show a lot better than the movie.

Either way, I think that I will try to go to bed. I’ve had a rather full day, I guess. Tomorrow is work from 11AM-12:30AM Eep! I hope that I make a few bills so that I can pay a few bills.

That was a worthless post.
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
The Ireland Portion   
06:44pm 21/09/2006
 
mood: Bad Headache
So I'm finally recording the memoirs of my best trip to date. I'll skip over some rather tedious details of little importance and dig right in to the good stuff. So the weather was about 79 degrees with about 84% humidity. I think that there were 12 mph winds coming 32 degrees north of west. I was wearing...I'm just kidding. Emily came and picked me up from my house earlier in the day and after stopping by my community college to turn in some financial aid forms we headed out to Rockville. It was Tuesday the 25th of July. Her parents were there, and they were kind enough to take us to the airport. Due to the amount of time Alan had to wait on security for his recent flight to Paris, we got to the airport about 3 hours early. Of course, there was none of the traffic for which Northern Virginia has recently become notorious. Naturally Dulles was empty, so after dropping off our luggage and blowing kisses good-by, we proceeded through security. The persons in charge there were singing "Over my head" by The Fray. I was invited to sing along. A people-mover ride later we were sitting in front of our gate with maybe 3 other people. Fortunately there was a potbelly's nearby. After I made several calls to people with whom I figured I wouldn't speak in a while, I went and grabbed some dinner. I had one sandwich, Em had one, and we each had a Lemonade (You know, the Nantucket Nectar's kind. Mmm!) An hour later, when we still had another hour 'til boarding time I decided to get another sandwich. Soon enough, however, we were in our seats, and embarking on the coolest trip we had ever planned. The food they served us was very filling and I believe that the films being shown were R.V., Firewall, She's the Man, a couple hour segment of the Disney Channel, and another thing or two. I watched Firewall and R.V. though not necessarily in that order.

We landed in Heathrow where I was convinced the immigrations officer wanted to engage in deep meaningful conversation. He asked where I worked and where I went to school. And then he went so far as to ask what I was studying. Since I didn't remember that to be a standard question, I started answering and laughing. He was unamused. We walked around the prettier part of the airport to the hot, sticky, nasty side corridor where we could wait for our flight to Dublin.

My oh my was it gorgeous! We landed At about 1:25 in the afternoon, and thought it took a moment to find the tourism desk (And pick up our prepaid bus passes and museum cards) we got there eventually. We loaded a bus and rode it as far as felt right. Surprisingly we got off at the best possible place. Only problem was that we didn't know where we were. We were just North of the Liffey River at the O'Connolly Bridge. When no one could point us the direction of our hostel, and our only advice was to check the south bank, we headed to the GPO where an officer was kind enough to direct us in the appropriate direction. We found our place and it was cute. It wasn't as private as I would have liked (there were 4 beds other than ours) and Emily and I were assigned separate bunks, but it was cute.

An entry written from the Dublin HostelCollapse )

That night we went to a Literary Irish Pub Crawl. Evidentially these Pub Crawls are all the rave in Dublin (and a few in London) and you can do them for music, literature, theater, or just for the booze. Due to the number of persons wanting to take part in the Crawl that evening they broke us into two separate groups. And I really think that we got the better of the Crawl Guides because they were funny as hell. They started the evening with the Waxies’ Dargle:Collapse )

The tour ended in a bit of rain back where we had started. Emily was savvy enough remember details throughout the tour that won us a small bit of Jameson (Which we were promised would actually be Jameson branded Shaving Cream) that actually came in handy a bit later. The next two days were summarized in Another Journal EntryCollapse )

That place with Authentic music was called the Arlington hotel. It was a major tourist trap. We arrive a few minutes early and go downstairs where we are directed to large dining tables. Em and I are shown to opposite sides of the table, and a menu is already down. It seems very prix fixe, and we mentioned to the waiter that we had already asked about a vegetarian option. We are given a choice of soup or a sampler plate of Irish appetizers. We choose the Soup since it is vegetarian. It’s a Colcannon soup, which tastes a lot like the Potato soup from Sweetwater, except it has kale, which isn’t bad in sushi but I think it has no place in this soup, texture-wise. The musical group came out and sang songs such as The Tart with the Cart, the Dish with the Fish, Miss Molly Malone. A young girl from Florida was invited up to help sing the song. They performed Whiskey in the Jar, the way it was meant to be sung rather than the delightful version by Peter, Paul, and Mary. And after a bit of uninspired Irish Dancing which Emily made me reenact for Leah in her kitchen, they closed with a song that was once banned from British radio. I tried to sing it for the next week of our trip. It is as follows:
Aon Focal EileCollapse )

The final day we roamed toward St. Stephen’s Green. On the way we stopped to listen to a group of 6 string players playing through some classical music. They also played the Prologue to Fiddler, which Emily recognized immediately. We took some cross streets at my suggestion and ended up not so near the Green. Rather we found the Iveagh Gardens, which we later decided were actually prettier. There was a little man made waterfall, and it was quite private. We left there and made it too the Green. I finally say the Fusilier’s Arch which excited me because I knew that I wanted to see the Wellington Arch in London and of course Arc Du Triomphe in Paris. It was less than amazing, though it wasn’t ugly to look at. We made our way out of the park when there were two musicians playing bass and guitar. They were singing Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley (Though it is most popular by Rufus Wainwright since it featured in Shrek). We crossed back through town the way we should have gone in the first place and we came too a circle of people admiring a puppeteer and his marionette. The guy was actually pretty good.

That night we went to the international bar and watched four men do comedy Improv. Two of the them were decidedly American, and maybe a third. The shortest and most clearly Irish of them all was the funniest and baldest as well. They had the audience throw up suggestions throughout the show. One was TV, Theatre, and Film genres. I offered up Mexican Variety Show. After that they were taking on anything random in a game Called Meanwhile. Three of the four would act out a scene, and a fourth person would call “Meanwhile” which is when the audience would say something. Emily had had a few drinks and I was able to convince her to say Skinny Dipping in Neverland. It seemed like the two most polar items I could imagine. I obviously wasn’t at the top of my game since all four performers decided to make fun of Michael Jackson. I’m sorta glad they did, because Neverland is meant to be all children making my--I mean Emily’s suggestion rather gross. At the show I made faux-friends with a girl named Mira, who was keeping an internship in Dublin though she was a student at UCSC. The show ended with a made up song called The Bouncers Bumfluff. We left and made our way to our Hostel for the last night. In the morning...
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
I'm out   
09:17am 25/07/2006
  And here I am, at 7 of 7 o'clock GMT -5 (EST), already having been awake for some 30 minutes, quite anxious and excited. Today is a day for which I have been waiting sometime. It is the beginning of the trip that I've taken great care and efforts to plan. I pray that the execution plays out as wonderfully as it has in my mind. I've packed clothes, and I've collected addresses; I have itineraries and accommodation reservations printed out; my passport is brand new and at home in a brand new wallet for the same. What's bad, though, is that I have 12 hours before I even head to the airport. I have a feeling that they will be 12 long hours. I hope that my French is none too offensive and that I'm able to understand well enough that which I need. I hope that I can settle the issue of financial aide at my school before 5 PM.

Now it's 8:50. I've found a way to occupy myself with packing and music. Michelangeli at the Piano, other performers playing Chopin's Ballade No 1 in G minor. Very impressive. When I get back from this trip I'm going to do something. I'm going to make a change in my life if none other. I'm putting that weight above me, ready to drop when I get back. If that means going through 12 years of school nonstop then I will. If it means paying for school then I will. I just have to get through it.

Either way, miss me y'all. Leave love or email taylor.j.williams @ Gmail if you want to get a postcard. No guarantee I'll reach everyone, but I'll try. Time to play some Tony Hawk.

ItineraryCollapse )
 
     

(1 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
The Perks of a NWO   
08:21pm 05/06/2006
 
mood: Excited
Perhaps I shouldn't be joking about the New World Order as we near 06.06.06, the predicted birth of the anti-christ. But with so much warring still occurring throughout the world, I can't help but believe that the End-Of-Days is still quite a way from us. Honestly, right now a unified currency would be a brilliant thing. Not just within Western Europe but sea to shining sea to shining sea. Why does this concern me? It would truly be my pleasure to explain...

After doubts that we would gain permission, concerns that we would not earn enough money, and
bouts regarding the length of stay, Emily and I have decided upon a rough itinerary for a
"Eurotrip". Allow me to begin by sharing said itinerary:

We leave from Dulles International Airport at 9:53 PM on Tuesday, 25 July 2006: United Flight 924. (It has just recently come to my attention that I thought I have purchased tickets for the 26th of July. That was a sincere mistake in the hurry to buy the cheapest tickets.) We land at London Heathrow Airport at 10 AM on Wednesday 26 July 2006: Lufthansa Flight 6579 (Operated by BMI - Which according to Jeopardy! Is the oldest airport to be operating under its original name). While that seems like a long-ass flight we are chasing the next day's sun and gaining 5 hours on it. Actual air time is only 7h07. On a boeing 777 I think that makes up for taking 666 lightly. Alas we spend no significant time in London then, but move on to "Baile Átha Cliath" Which is Gaelic for Town of the Hurdle Ford. You probably know it better as "Dark Pool" or Dubh linn (Dublin). I'll spare you continuing flight information. So, Dublin from 26 July through 01 August at which time we ferry to London. London from 01 August until 08 August at which time we Train (Chunnel) to Paris. And then Paris from 08 August until 16 August at which time we return to the states.

This is extremely exciting for both Emily and I, and for a vast array of reasons. Neither of us has ever been on such a long trip with the other, and that holds great appeal. Second, she's never been to Europe, and while I have spent a month in London, I realize that the UK is quite different from the European Union or Eastern Europe (Then again, Paris might not be the best representation). Another thing is the fact that I've been studying French for some time now, so this will be awesome for that aspect. There are draw backs to planning an overseas adventure, though. Aside from having to think a little more before calling the person from whom you are buying a service (due to high costs of phone calls), you must also consider paying for the service that lets you pay for the service. By this I mean that every time I need to pay a fee in Euros I have to pay a third party to convert my US Dollars into Euro. It's bad enough that the exchange rate is not in our favor right now (Neither has it been for a few years) but to pay a fee on top of that sucks. True, it's not the end of the world. But for journaling's sake allow me to vent: sending 170 Euro from Virginia to Paris:

While venerable sites such as xe.com tell me that the worth of 170€ in $ is 221, sites like Western Union, which can apply their own rates since they make the transfer of funds decide that it will take 231 USD to buy their 170 Euro. Not to mention that once you begin using a service like paypal or Western Union you're slapped with a 34 USD processing fee. Which is still 6 dollars fewer than my bank charges for an international outgoing wire transfer. So my flat which was once 340 € (≈442 USD) becomes 442+34+10 = 486 USD.

It seems small, but mind you, the difference between $ (USD) and £ (GBP) is even larger. And when I have three reservations to be made in € (Paris Flat, Ferry, and Le Moulin Rouge) and three to be made in £ (Dublin Flat, London Flat, and Phantom of the Opera) it adds up to a possible 250$ for which I've got nothing tangible to show. Nothing to which I cannot attach another payment.

I'm certain that the Mark of the Beast will bring an end to this. Either because of its uniformity, or because it queues the end of the known-world, it has a lot to offer. I must admit, rather than that, I'll pay the extra money happily. Now, if only I could make people tip higher.

In the borrowed words of my beautiful girlfriend (Borrowed from Jay-Z), "Good Night!"
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
How does every ethnic joke start?   
01:01pm 01/05/2006
 
mood: Happy La Maracha
...By looking over your shoulder.

Two such jokesCollapse )

Honestly, I feel a little betrayed by the illegal workforce, and in turn, angered by the idiots that have started the habit of hiring them at lower wages. Now we focus on the un-American-ness of these workers, but what about the fucker that hired them over an able-bodied American? Well, that's the betrayal of the American, but what about the illegal immigrant? For years now they have been allowed our public schooling, our health care, bilingual signs and telephone prompts, specified legal services, and courtesy and respect from a great deal of decent human beings in this country. I know as well as anyone else that they get a lot of shit too, but who doesn't? Now you hear of comments stating that while they may be illegal, they are not criminals. Who knows, perhaps they are requesting that they not be placed behind bars and fed bread and water. But doing something illegal (i.e. committing a crime) makes you a criminal. There are no two ways about it. And here we are making proposals for laws, not laws themselves, in order to better the situation for all Americans. So why is everyone up in arms?

I have to say that I agree with this wave of proposal making right now 100%. While it is true that perhaps American can do more to encourage free-trade in Africa, and America could have lent more to Tsunami victims, and America could have lent less to the Taliban, and America could have done more for New Orleans, America is faced with what it can do right now for the future of Her citizens. If we as a country cannot protect the rights of those to whom we give them, then we cannot do shit after that.

Frankly, I recognize the services provided by immigrant labor. I realize that there are few Americans who would be happy to do these jobs themselves, in fact I am very appreciative for the hard work these people accomplish. But in the same vein, I would like an America that offers public schools of merit for my children--Schools that are not over-populated. I would like taxes that provide for others paying said taxes. I think that's why any of us put up with taxes to begin with: they are a necessary evil for us all. I know that there are some illegal immigrants with a taxID number that pay taxes, but that is not a majority. And I realize that it is only in a smaller group of Hispanic immigrants, but I would like a USA that doesn't have another gang-body being added to it. This isn't to say that black people or Asian-Americans aren't in gangs. This isn't to say that white people aren't in gangs. This isn't to say that legal Latinos aren't in gangs. It is to say that immigrant children that find themselves suffering cultural marginality have a tendency to get into trouble. Particularly when their parents are occupied working several hours a week.

And what percentage of these immigrants actually question why immigration laws are in effect? Or why new laws are being considered? Who sees rows of fences and rows of immigration police and still decide to come over. Who checks with the American embassy in his or her country to find that they can't come over right now, and still try? What type of person is that? I'm willing to accept that it's a person unhappy with his or her own living situation. But why not, then, make your country a better place to live? I'm not assuming that that is easy, but do you think that brining over so many problems from so many different countries America is bound to make better or worse?

Emily considered that I bring the situation home. She mentioned a particular immigrant that we know who is perhaps the hardest working man we know. While part of me said, yes, there is he, part of me recognizes that I never would have met him without his illegal entry. I recognize that as cruel, and an extreme. So what do we need to do? Have interviews with people before they are welcome to emigrate to America? I cannot count the number of criminal immigrants that I have had the pleasure of knowing in my 20 years of life. So rather than shipping them all out, perhaps we just need to find a better way.

It might seem that I'm pointing out Latinos more than any other group. But I'm not convinced that it is they and none other. I'm not even advocating that only immigrants are entirely responsible for this situation. And if I've said anything offensive (Aside from the first two comments which were clearly jokes), or incorrect, then rather than rip me to shreds, enlighten me. Work with me in civil discussion toward an answer. I'm only advocating a better way.
 
     

(4 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
Here comes the sun.   
01:03am 21/04/2006
 
mood: excited
I take off my shoes today and find that there is a lot less sand than I remember leaving there. Less sand than I used to be comfortable leaving there. The weather recently has been reminding me of when I first came out here. It's only fitting that it should as two weeks from today commemorates the third anniversary of my having met Emily at RENT. Then I was a Californian. In New York Katia would smile as she offered to people that she is from Virginia and I would hold close to my Californ-inity. I've been having flash backs to events in California. Summer days spent at community theatres and driving cities on the beaches. The types of beaches free of gnats and busy with sand crabs in the soft brown, tan, and black swirling sand. The air that then rushed into my bedroom window is of a different breed than that stuff here, which clings to you, suffocating you in its coolness. Music affected me differently then, I'm not ashamed to say. I made the connections to a song that I now overlook (Or overhear) because I don't need them. I don't spend late nights lying on my tile buffet counter talking to Su or Nikki. My, how I've changed! And I'm not upset by this. I'm happy to be here. I'm happy to have my proximity to Emily. I'm happy to have seen something new of the world. But I have to admit that it is somewhat scary that I've settled so deeply into such a different and new place. Truth be told, when I left Seattle I was convinced I'd be right back. When I was in London I talked to Richard about finding a job there, and when I was in New York I talked to Allison about finding work. I never thought that I'd stay in one of those places. I never imagined that doing so would keep me from traveling any more. And now Emily and I are looking through vacation options. Paris? I was certain I would have seen it by now. It's funny how priorities change. And all you have left is...the coolness of the wind? The familiarity of something as unfamiliar and changing as a breeze? I am willing to put in a billion hours so that I can take Emily on the most perfect trip ever. Well, I thought I was. Then the Summer peeks its sweaty head from around the corner, and I remember what Summers out here mean to me. I hate the heat, and I most certainly appreciate Spring or Fall more, but Summer is change. Summer is coming out here. Summer is nights outside. Summer is sweet Summer rain. Summer is hot van rides. Summer is walking around Rio with Em, Leah, and Nathan. Bug bites? I'll take them. A new mix CD. I'm excited for it.

I'm happy here but boy do I miss my childhood. However, time is a plane over which I've not learned to reverse. 16 was good. But I'm happy now.

I love you, Emma!
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
Tell that bitch 'Be cool!'   
02:16pm 13/03/2006
 
mood: Slipping into Relaxed
The time has come again to lay at your feet that which I've been idiating. But first, a great display of brilliant lyricism:

Your FaultCollapse )

After watching The Constant Gardener with my Wonderful Emily she and I were inspired to travel to Africa for the Summer of 2007, and either teach or build. While we haven't had too much time to discuss this with one another (Let alone anyone else) but it seems Emily is leaning more toward construction: setting up houses for volunteers, building clinics, etc; I, on the other hand, have been placing more of an emphasis on teaching. As of yet I haven't gotten around to searching on the building ventures but here are a couple opportunities for teaching that have just jumped out at me: World Camp, which my friend did just recently, or: World Teach. I'm not asking for financial support (Yet), just some attention.

So, I'm supposed to be in school right now. Or just getting out rather. But no! I've been reuniting with online friends via myspace. I never thought I'd get into it, but it is very easy to find people. Not that I really talk to them...I think I'm done with this update. Piss off!
 
     

(4 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
(Un)Epic (Un)Poem   
09:49pm 17/02/2006
 
mood: Un
To live above
With those we love
That will be in Glory!
To live below
(With those we know)
Now, that's another story!
--unknown

Today I met someone new. She doesn't know me but by name, and I've never seen her face, but we met today, whether she knows it or not. Sadly I'm meeting her as she's leaving this world. She's coming into my life as she's leaving so many others. And in the same few breaths she'll leave me, too.

I heard her on the phone today, responding to being babied. She didn't seem to mind so much. Actually, who knows where her mind was? I say that I heard her being babied, because it wasn't me doing the babying, and it wasn't me to whom she was responding. She may not even know we spoke.

I've heard so many things about her. O! How strong! How blunt! How honest! I've signed her name in her absence and she's talked about me in mine. I've thought of her while at work watching a parade of red hats saunter by. Feathers flapping up-down Those ladies belonged at Coastal. I did, too.

I might not have edified her in the least, but I saw her today, on the phone, in the voice doing the babying. Odd, isn't it? When our lives are near the end, we're not sustained by our own actions or strength, but by the love of others. The poetic eagle's wings. Through those wings she spoke.

Emily's kind words and Barbara's trembling voice slipped into my mind. The hospice is like any other. Her children don't matter. The receptionist, Charlotte by coincidence, making the transfer to 2B; plain-Jane as plain can be. But this woman! She must be something amazing. She's using what she has even still!

No more phone calls, no more contact. That's what Barbara told me. She's wanting to let go, she's ready to let go...until she remembers them. Until they show they care. What misery to have life only to support life unsupportable. Yet love is working it's wonders. I'm sure it was love when she spoke.

I wouldn't know what to do. Between being selfish and making things worse. Making things worse because you want to make things right. The line between the living and the undead. That's I replied. Barbara agreed, saying no more. But that line...on which side does she lie? Three hours thought, I know not still.

"My parents did me a favor dying so early." I don't understand. What is the good in ten years but that they should be ten years desired. She meant promptly. Quickly. No emotional yo-yo. This is emotion. I remembered Kathy in Hospice. Barbara mentioned Alan's mother. That's what happened when we spoke.

My Dying AuntCollapse )
Back to BarbaraCollapse )

The person you see me as is me. The person that I am is not that which you see, though. I suppose that’s true for anyone, and boy would I like to meet the Taylor that some of you know! But it’s not about me. ...Collapse )


There’s this man…and he’s complaining.
God asks him, “Why are you so unhappy?
“Have I not given you enough?”
The man replies, “I have plenty,
“but there are so many burdens I have.”

God takes the man to a field of crosses
Of various shapes and sizes.
These are the burdens of the whole world.
You think that the cross you bear is too great?
Pick any of the ones here and it will be yours.

The man spends a long time
Examining the field for the right cross.
And when he finds the smallest one
He says, “This one! I’ll take this one.”
God replied, “That one is already yours.”
--Old Story [ Not a poem]

Today I picked up some toilet reading (People Magazine, 20 Feb 2006, pp 61-66 “A Most Fragile Boy”). Being ignorant was far more comfortable. The article focuses on Jonathon Connolly, a 6-year-old Butterfly Child. The term Butterfly Child refers to kids suffering from “epidermolysis bullosa (E.B.), an incurable genetic disorder that affects about 25,000 people in the U.S. and causes skin to become as fragile and easily torn as tissue paper.”

He’s six and can’t go a day without blisters, scars, bleeding, and being bandaged up. He has no fingernails, and even his own tears can cause facial cutting. My cross just shrunk ten times smaller. And again, it hits me. I want to take his cross, cure this child and sacrifice of myself. That’s what it is to follow Christ. The sad thing is that I have little to offer. To make a true impact Christ, himself, had to live perfectly for thirty some-odd years.

This child wants to be normal, acts as though nothings wrong, and that’s what’s most dangerous! Unless we find a cure he’ll be isolated from any long-term relationship requiring extensive physical contact. How easy do we have it!?

Let me live forever
In your love and memories…
I cannot be that person,
But let that person be me!
--Taylor Williams
 
     

(Toe The Line?)

 
The Parenthetical   
12:57am 17/02/2006
 
mood: cheerful
O! How happy you have made me! O-oh, how happy you have made me!

The cool sky breathes California wind. Outside it feels like Vista. Inside I'm in Virginia tonight "and in no way is that depressing." (Ron Burgundy)

I've just had the biggest back-to-front string of celebrations in my life. It began with Emily's Birthday, for which I didn't do enough. Between her birthday, Hanukkah, and Christmas we went to a photographer to have pictures made, got our first live Christmas tree (Together, and at all), had my family visit -- At which time we saw Les Mis, enjoyed D.C., had our families meet, etc, -- we bought a gamecube together, I bought her a semi-impressive bath set (Which included a massage from hers truly, bath sea-salts, bath brown sugars, two sets of Molton Brown candles [Which smell wonderful], bubble bath, and massage oils which have yet to be used, and some Godiva chocolates to enjoy during the bath.), as well as a few other small things here and there. This was all presented in a coupon book, and was pretty fun to do. That was a long sentence! During the bath I plucked rose pedals and placed them on the bathroom floor, popped some champagne, cut kiwi, placed pineapple, cherries, strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, and pomegranate seeds (I took out all of the seeds myself for her) around cool whip, and then played a sexy playlist of music to set the mood. Then, almost as if in competition, she starts the celebration of my 20th birthday 20 days before February 1st.

Instead of coupons she weaved a cute calendar which let me know what to expect. I got a surprise visit from my dog, whom I've wanted out here for the longest time. We made paw prints of her paws. She's so cute! I got a nice coat from Gap, some great CA-related shirts from Hollister, a new TheNorthFace jacket (Which I not only needed but really wanted!) two great mix-CDs (Doesn't ring like mix-tape), a homemade desk (Which I love and am using right now), and a few other things. And the house was decorated in my honor! The celebration ran into my party, which didn't turn out as party-like as I might have wanted, but was still very nice, and that ran into Valentine's day (Which we celebrated early for the most part) when we went to see Sherie Rene Scott's last performance (til June) in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. And soon I'll be getting a controller!

While in NY we bumped into my Manager from work, and had dinner at Sardi's. It was nice to just be with Emma in the city. It always is. There's a certain maturity and independence; an autonomy that I love. She always seems so sure and sexy.

Even with all of this excitement there have been little grumbles and disagreements here and there. "The beauty is," (The Light in the Piazza) that's not a problem. Sure we don't like to have arguments, but at the same time, we just get along so well that it can't matter that much. I love her so much that no amount of arguing to make this relationship unhealthy. I know that saying it in such terms sounds so naive. In truth that's only relevant if the arguing were going to be that much, and it isn't. Three years and it really isn't.

When there is arguing it's about the same three things. We should both learn to change more quickly. Both learn to see and except the change that the other is making. It's easy to say now but sometimes hard to really do. There are days when I love Emily and I'm happy to see other friends. I'm happy to see people that I'd like to consider friends. I'm happy to go to work and talk about Emily or just about me. But there are days when I love her and all I can think about is her. That's what today was for me. That's a great thing. I love thinking about my girlfriend. She really is the love of my life. There's no one else that I want more. There's no one else that I want.

I love you, Emma.
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
Birthday Wishes, Bitches!   
09:10am 01/02/2006
  A Very Happy Birthday to Brooke! Enjoy Africa, Hun!  
     

(Toe The Line?)

 
What a Wonderful World   
12:37pm 30/01/2006
 
mood: Fantastigorical
Placing things into perspective is sometimes very difficult to do. And even once you have, perspective is sometimes something betrayed by your words. I think a great deal about the words I use but sadly I don't consider enough how other people will think about them. Recently not only did I place something into a particular perspective, but I did NOT consider carefully enough my words and I regret it. I don't regret being found out, but that it wasn't my thoughts that were found. I don't regret feeling, but not expressing feeling adequately enough. And what's more the feelings that I described were founded in excitements ephemeral as any. You'd think that after twenty solid years I'd understand enough about myself to take it more slowly before jumping to such a conclusion, despite the situation being small. It turns out to be even more casual and less emotional than I would have predicted. And that's okay. And forgetting that, and realizing that I've just enlisted myself into the friendship of perhaps the moodiest person I've ever met, and knowing that I might not speak with them for days on end, I still feel wonderful in having Emily. There is no question, debate, or concern in my mind.

There isn't a day that I wake up without realizing that I'm 3,000 miles from what used to be home. But there also isn't a day that I don't realize that it USED to be home. After twenty years I'm happy to say that I have no regrets. Even a month spent in a concrete jail cell isn't regrettable. I'm just happy to have learned what I did at 17 than at 35. I have come and gone through so many things to be here. Here in Northern Virginia commuting with the general population. Here taking 21 credits at school, working 5 shifts at a restaurant, maintaining an amazing relationship. It's awesome that my life is what it is. Sure, it would be nice to share that with someone. Share with someone how happy I am to have Emily, to have the opportunities afforded me by Katia, to have the background granted me by my mother. But I have my mother, Katia, and Emily.

I would like to be recognized for my genius, but until I sharpen that and until I present that in a way that is able to appreciated by those not possessing the same genius, it won't happen. That is my choice and the burden of those expecting attention. I want to change something and I know that twenty years later I'm just now becoming aware of how to do so.

I'm sitting here today completely in love. Excited and ecstatic without the influence of anyone other than the one I love. I have sacrificed and will continue to do so. I have forgiven and will continue to do so. I have loved and will continue to do so...

Thanks, Emma!
 
     

(4 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
   
12:18am 29/11/2005
 
mood: I Don't Know
The other day, I told Faith that I was considering buying, or laying away the Taylor T5 guitar. The one guitar that I really want. Based on it's technology, it's beauty, it's brand reputation, and after test-driving one this weekend, it's feel, comfort, sound, and playability. The problem is that the Koa wood body version that I want is $2,899. Either way, I mentioned this to Faith, and she said why buy it?, it's nearly Christmas. I immediately scoffed that no one would be buying me a present that expensive this Christmas. She replied that she was unsure; A lot of kids in this area have parents willing to spend crazy amounts of money on gifts for the holidays. You and I both know that that's what the holidays are all about. At any rate, I thought that my mom doesn't have that type of money, and if she did, I'm not so sure she'd spend it on a guitar for me. But this didn't get me down. I recognize my mother's financial standing, and I'm okay with that. I try to help my siblings, namley Logan, accept that, without understanding it too much. For then she might think that she knows what my mom has to deal with, and that is sure to start a power struggle. At any rate, I wasn't brought down by this because I still have Christmas. And I still receive. Every day with Emily, as a matter of fact, is a holiday. And not just in the sense that we constantly get one another gifts. And we always spend money on doing things together. But her attitude, and her person. Her warmth, and her spirit, all year 'round, embody the holiday that she wants to celebrate. Where I am brought down a little bit is when I can't hold up my end of the bargain. She wants a Christmas Tree. I do as well, but I'm not sure about the details. I know where to buy one, I know that a fresh cut is required so that the bottom isn't too sappy, and it doesn't reject water. I know about stands, skirts, and even tying it to the top of the stratus if I wanted. And now, without monaco in the way, can afford to decorate it. But still, are my siblings allergic? Is it costly to dispose of, or can it just go in the street with all of the other New Years Day trash? Would my mom mind? Does that matter? Is Alvino allergic to pine? Or Fur/Fir? Who knows? I want to make this Christmas the best ever for her. And part of that in America (Though she is so immaterialistic) is a Christmas tree. With lights, tinsel, garland, bulbs, other ornaments, and a star or angel or other topper. I'll do my best, but right now, it's looking like a big "I don't know." Still, everyday with Emily is a Holy day. It's beautiful. I feel as chipper as others say they do on Christmas. The days with Emily are days with Family, friends, good eats, good times. Laughs and loves. It's great. I don't need that guitar. I've got Emily. The rest will come in time.
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
On the Bright Side   
10:04am 26/11/2005
 
mood: Bright
In light of the current demise of my phone, I am petitioning for phone numbers from people. My entire phone book has been lost, so if your number might have been in my phone, or you'd like it to be in a new phone of mine, either reply here, or please email me at taylor.j.williams@gmail.com. Thanks, y'all.

On the bright side, I might be able to get myself a kickin new phone, I might be able to finish my computer, and buy my midi controller. Life is going in the right direction all and all. I mean, Emily's still by my side. Cheers!

Little bit of tragedy, lots a bit of comedy!
 
     

(Toe The Line?)

 
Change of Plans   
01:42am 26/11/2005
 
mood: disappointed
Things came screeching to a halt today when I heard the "plop" of my phone hitting the water. It slipped into the toilet bowl of the handicap stall in the men's room at Coastal Flats in Tyson's Corner on Black Friday, 2005. The phone that I saved and worked for, short circuited. And, of course, without insurance. Despite having tried to add insurance within the allocated time, I missed the due date, and will now have to pay a pretty penny for another phone. Of course I'll stick with the same model, very happy by how it functions. This does, however, put a damper on a few other plans of mine. Namely Monaco. I withdrew, by email, from the Monaco program tonight. I have already invested $1000 into this program, which would have helped me get French credits out of the way, while providing me an opportunity to travel, absorbing the world in a very authentic manner. I was still a few dollars off of the total needed to fully enjoy that trip. Between needing my passport reissued, needing spending cash, proper attire (Suits) for the Casino at Monte-Carlo, and needing to pay off certain things before I left, as well as paying for Health Insurance, getting bills transferred into my name, paying for Car Insurance, and having a new housemate...it just didn't seem like the biggest priority. It would have been nice, and what's great is that it would have looked wonderful to American University I feel. I don't know why, but it just seems like it would have. Now it doesn't matter. That option is gone. I have thrown $1000 away. All on a chance that I can't see to take now. I was so close, and yet so far away. And what can I do? I can do a lot, but I refuse to fall into debt. I refuse to not be able to support myself with average schemes, let alone transatlantic ones. Maybe next year. Maybe not. We'll see.
 
     

(4 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
For all have sinned...   
08:59pm 22/11/2005
 
mood: 401 Mu-fuh!
Know ye how I love thee? No matter who ye be, know ye the tale of how I love thee?
Take one, thou I lovest. Know thou this? Emily, be ye this one. Art thou sure of my love?
My hand moves, and my ink flows from my very veins. Resulting thus in a story.
A story of love. Ye knowest not. And love thee, I do. Emily, thou art love. To me, thou art love.

I've finally finished a petit revolution in my life. I've gone through a coarse period of missing people in my life. Missing old friends, and those I thought were new. Wanting returned phone calls and female affection that I could reject. Wanting to be wanted. I've come full circle, to not only being happy in Emily, but being completely happy because of only Emily. Not to say that I don't appreciate my grades in school (Straight As right now), or that I don't like my prospects for AU, or that I'm not excited about MONACO '06! But all I need is Emily.

Don't worry, ever distant livejournal buddies, you'll always be in my heart...even if you haven't really been in my journal. But that's cool. I've become that journal. The one no one really wants to read because it's become the same tyraid every update.

I'm happy, bitches! So I can't really get health insurance, and my company won't front $50 a month for food, all because I'm a measley 2 hours short per weekly average. Maybe I'm broke, and I'm worried about spending cash in Europe, and I'm worried about seeing Miss Saigon. Maybe I'm losing my mind, but life is beautiful.

The journal is no longer my creative outlet. Sitting here idling with all of my wonderful ideas running rampant within these four verticies. Stagnating between these edges. Rather My thoughts are being transformed. A ten minute play. A screenplay. Great holiday gifts for Emily. Joy. I'm elated.

Popcorn past, Quietly quilted of
Righteous rivets, Sagefully sewn and
Thrillingly threaded, unseemingly unique yet
Voraciously vibarant, Wonderfully woven...Me.

The begining made no sense, so why should the end?
 
     

(2 On My Side | Toe The Line?)

 
I'm getting Health Insurance, Bitches!   
11:54pm 15/11/2005
 
mood: Excited, Intimidated
"It's funny how another person's goals can make my accomplishments seem trivial." I think it's funny how my own goals can make me feel trivial. More than that, discouraged...scared. I feel the weight of lost time compounding on my shoulders. I have a chance now to repair all that I left broken of academic high school, and I'm doing my best, but it's scary. I know very little about applying to college. I know very little about transferring credits, and what questions to ask advisers. I don't know what to have ready for a conservatory audition. And I don't know when's too late to apply for scholarships. I feel responsibility for my family. Not only to graduate from a four-year university and to achieve a Bachelor's degree, but to graduate with Honors, and move forward to my Master's. Perhaps onward, "Piled High and Deep" to introduce the first Dr. Williams to the William or Logan family. To have not only ambition, but enough motivation, and proper support. That is the key feature to my success, so far. There has been my mom, with whom I have an excellent, neutral relationship. There is Katia, though she has been hard to keep in touch with and having a lot happening in her life right now, she has given me the faculty and resource to accomplish so much. Most importantly, is Emily. Who not only loves me, and supports me emotionally, but offers guidance I didn't even know I needed. She has answers to so much, and suggestions, and the perfect questions. It's amazing how great she's been for me. I only hope that I do as much for her. My new schedule reads as follows:

Annandale Campus (30-40 minutes from home + traffic)
English 112 - College Composition II (Honors) - Mon, Wed, Fri - 9:00A-9:50A - 3 Credits
Music 111 - Music Theory - Mon, Wed - 10:00A-12:15P - 4 Credits
Music 145 - Private Instruction Keyboard (Piano/Organ) - Mon, Wed - TBA - 2 Credits
Mathematics 151 - Math for the Liberal Arts Major I - Mon, Wed - 1:00-2:15P - 3 Credits

Manassas Campus (10-20 minutes from home)
Speech & Drama 132 - Acting II - Mon, Wed - 7:00-8:15P - 3 Credits

Extended Learning Institute (Online Courses)
Student Development 100 - Bullshit course about learning online, etc - Online. - 1 Credit

Total = 16 Credits.

For some reason that feels like a lot more than it is. Three of those classes will be a blast for me, or at least should be. One of them will be easy as hell. And the only problem with the other two is that English is early in the morning (For me), and Math just sucks. Either way, I'm already feeling a little thwarted. But that's good, I work well under pressure. And I'm under a lot of pressure considering the fact that I would like that apply to American University in D.C. for Fall 2006 with a double major Musical Theatre/French Language Education Studies. Also, I'd like to see if I can work that into AUs combined Bachelor's/Master's 5 year program. That way I can share credits between both graduate and undergraduate works. The master's would be achieved in Secondary Education. So, this means I would be done with school by about...Spring/Summer 2010/11. I'll be 23/24, and with three degrees, that sounds fair enough for me.

I couldn't do any of this without Emily. The holidays are fast approaching, I'm very near to my study abroad in Monaco, Katia should be back out here soon, I'll be making shit loads of money at work, I'll have to consider roommate options, and I'll enter the guinness book of world records for longest run-on sentence. Life is going well...
 
     

(3 On My Side | Toe The Line?)