Sunday, July 16, 2006
I'm in my hotel in Seattle right now looking at the water and it's great. I will have to write more later about my CTLT experience, which is awesome, but don't have the time right now. I will also write about how much I love Seattle, but right now, I must run. I probably wont be online for another three weeks or so--sorry for those of you who wont get your daily fix of Adam for a while. Drop me a message or call if you have my number.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Out and About...
I'm leaving to Fort Lewis, Washington Sunday night/Monday morning. I haven't yet finished moving into my room and I'm supposed to go to the city tonight to hang with Koz, his brother and an old friend of mine. I just had pizza and a beer, and that combined with the heat is driving me to pass out for an hour or two. I'm glad NYC doesn't really pick up until pretty late at night anyway...that will, at least, allow me to get to the city later than if West Point were near, oh...say...Houston.
Oh man...when these are the problems life throws at you, you know you've gotta be happy.
Oh man...when these are the problems life throws at you, you know you've gotta be happy.
My New View...
After moving from one room to another, unpacking and moving in, only to find out that I'm not allowed to have a roomate and have to move, yet again, there is good news. I can see a tree out my window people...a tree! You see, I've lived on the sixth floor for two years now, and on the side of the building facing the interior courtyard of the school (central area). While fun durring naked man and the occassional "riot" (which was anything but), it is a bit drab and grey. Well, for the next semester (or, at least, the part of the semester when it's not snowing), I will get to see this from my desk every morning (and, if you listen carefully, you can hear birds!):
Bush Said Something I Like!!
Only on People.com:
"In 2 1/2 years I'll be a member of the ex-Presidents club."
Oh, how I await the day!
"In 2 1/2 years I'll be a member of the ex-Presidents club."
Oh, how I await the day!
Thursday, July 06, 2006
What Happens?
What happens when I'm stuck at school with hours and hours to spare and only one friend in sight? Well...I watch three seasons of Six Feet Under, I read several books and spend way too much time online. The good news is, I will, for the benefit of all my loyal readers (which is whom now that Alex is in the woods??), list all my recent favorite sites:
So...these pretty much span all my interests...art, architecture, music, law, the environment...and one dude who's just too smart and interesting not to include. Anyway, hopefully you wont be nearly bored enough to enjoy these as much as I have (not that boredom is a prerequisite for enjoying these...but it is neccessary to have an adequate amount of free time to read them all).
Quote:
When future generations mine our landfills for our cast-aside cell phone parts and discarded blenders will they view our wastefullness as an indicator of economic success or of unparalleled systemic greed?
That is a quote I read on this website which was given in reaction to this artist's work.
My High Point...
I harbor no illussions. I know that life, for the next year, while difficult will be the high point of my life. How so? Well, I do not mean this to be in any way arrogant, but the world around me will never be more geared toward me again. There are the obvious examples, the Ring Weekend, 100th night, Graduation (banquet, ceremony, parade, etc.), but there are also the less obvious, but equally important aspects of being here.
I thought of this as I was walking in Washington Hall getting some paperwork filed. I suddenly realized that every person I had talked to that day was either someone who I was training, or someone who was training me. It dawned on me that all the officers and NCO's I met would spend next year, my last, doing everything they possibly can to get me ready to be an officer. The entire school, every building, every activity, every person here, from the ladies who work in the mailroom to the Commandant (who I spent about an hour and a half with talking about values and ethics), is dedicated toward helping to make me a better person. Is it possible to feel nostalgia for a place I haven't yet left?
I thought of this as I was walking in Washington Hall getting some paperwork filed. I suddenly realized that every person I had talked to that day was either someone who I was training, or someone who was training me. It dawned on me that all the officers and NCO's I met would spend next year, my last, doing everything they possibly can to get me ready to be an officer. The entire school, every building, every activity, every person here, from the ladies who work in the mailroom to the Commandant (who I spent about an hour and a half with talking about values and ethics), is dedicated toward helping to make me a better person. Is it possible to feel nostalgia for a place I haven't yet left?
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
I Feel Like This...
This is how I feel lately...if I were this I-pod box...this is what has been happening to me. I swear. If you were here, you'd know what I'm talking about.
Monday, July 03, 2006
I Just Threw Up In My Mouth...
Yes...literally...when I read this:
...some of Mr. McCain's supporters made it clear in interviews that the McCain camp viewed Mr. Bush's brother Jeb, the governor of Florida, as an ideal running mate for Mr. McCain. This news would presumably be pleasing to President Bush, who has made it clear in recent weeks that he would like his brother to move onto the national stage; Governor Bush has made it just as clear that he has no interest in running for national office in 2008.Am I the only one who sees this as one of the four horses of the apocalypse or something similar?
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Bad Writing...
I've decided the memoir is, or should be, a dead form. Not for all time, just until the bad writers stop writing. Alex, you can write one...Claire too, but most people shouldn't. You see, what I find is that the current crop of crap is written by people who write memoirs because they can't write anything original. So, they take the memoir, use a style that's "simple", such as stream of consciousness, and then ruin it. I've read Kerouac (no, his weren't memoirs, but his style resembles...no, the style I'm reading resembles him)...but fails miserably. Here's an example of what I'm talking about from Goat:
You see...that's just poor writing. The lack of punctuation doesn't add anything. It doesn't make me feel that he's thinking manically or that his life is somehow more chaotic than mine (as Kerouac's does). Instead, it just makes me feel like he doesn't know how to use punctuation--or that he thinks by using a slew of and's, we won't notice that his descriptions aren't very good since we'll be so impressed with his flouting of expected form.
I'm not trying to imply write perfectly, which I don't (look at my overly liberal use of elipses and parantheticals), but still, I'd like to think that if I wrote the story of my life, I wouldn't resort to writing poorly in order to hide the fact that I just haven't thought of a good way to tell it. My old english teacher used to say, "Good writing is good thinking" and I'm convinced this fellow just can't think well.
Here's a Kerouac quote to compare with:
And even though Brett and I have lived here for three years we don't come from here and our dad's a preacher but he's strange (not like hellfire crazy strange, or standing on a sidewalk holding a Bible up in the air strange, but just strange, like once he melted down the gold caps from his teeth and made them into a cross) and he doesn't have enough money to be in the club and neither does my mother (she's a school nurse and when we get sick she's always the one who tells us we'll be better soon, tells us what pills to eat) but occasionally we get invited to their parties because we know the sons and the daughters, and it's always us just standing there with our cigarettes and the free booze, but we know we aren't like them and we douldn't marry one of the daughters because we don't come from where their future husbands are supposed to.
You see...that's just poor writing. The lack of punctuation doesn't add anything. It doesn't make me feel that he's thinking manically or that his life is somehow more chaotic than mine (as Kerouac's does). Instead, it just makes me feel like he doesn't know how to use punctuation--or that he thinks by using a slew of and's, we won't notice that his descriptions aren't very good since we'll be so impressed with his flouting of expected form.
I'm not trying to imply write perfectly, which I don't (look at my overly liberal use of elipses and parantheticals), but still, I'd like to think that if I wrote the story of my life, I wouldn't resort to writing poorly in order to hide the fact that I just haven't thought of a good way to tell it. My old english teacher used to say, "Good writing is good thinking" and I'm convinced this fellow just can't think well.
Here's a Kerouac quote to compare with:
...colleges being nothing but grooming schools for the middleclass non-identity which usually finds its perfect expression on the outskirts of the campus in rows of well-to-do houses with lawns and television sets is each living room with everybody looking at the same thing and thinking the same thing at the same time while the Japhies of the world go prowling in the wilderness...”
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Six Feet Under...
I just finished Season 1. The final sceene (I can say this because it was four years ago and I'm sure anyone who wants to see it has) is the family, about six months after the dad died. He's looking at them all in a baptism party and he smiles as he sees his daughter and her boyfriend, his son holding a baby, his wife and his son's girlfriend talking; he smiles and walks away.
It's so wierdly like my life and what I think about. Like how, since my dad died, Lucia's been married, Kristie is getting re-married and the house looks amazing...not to mention I'm doing reasonably well myself.
It's strange how I can really...appreciate what I have. When I'm with my mom or sisters, I the love we share is somehow different now, somehow stronger and sweeter than it was. What's so sad about it is, it's something we wouldn't have if my father hadn't died...but, like in the show, I really do think he's happy for all of us...but you can't help but wish he were here to share it too.
Man...this show is amazing. If you haven't seen it, go out and rent it, because it's one of the best shows I've seen. Sure, it occassionally resorts to cliches and some poor turns of plot, but still...it's the best reflection on death (and conversely life) that I've seen. It sometimes feels as I watch it that someone took my brain, split it into four parts and embodied each part in a character on the show. Not to mention it also feels like it was written about our family...even though it came on three years before dad died.
It's so wierdly like my life and what I think about. Like how, since my dad died, Lucia's been married, Kristie is getting re-married and the house looks amazing...not to mention I'm doing reasonably well myself.
It's strange how I can really...appreciate what I have. When I'm with my mom or sisters, I the love we share is somehow different now, somehow stronger and sweeter than it was. What's so sad about it is, it's something we wouldn't have if my father hadn't died...but, like in the show, I really do think he's happy for all of us...but you can't help but wish he were here to share it too.
Man...this show is amazing. If you haven't seen it, go out and rent it, because it's one of the best shows I've seen. Sure, it occassionally resorts to cliches and some poor turns of plot, but still...it's the best reflection on death (and conversely life) that I've seen. It sometimes feels as I watch it that someone took my brain, split it into four parts and embodied each part in a character on the show. Not to mention it also feels like it was written about our family...even though it came on three years before dad died.
Labels: Dad