Some business to be taken care of:

First, there is a new interest in my life (when ISN'T there a new interest in my life?) her nick is 'Rain' or 雨(romaji ame).

Second, I predict that the new apostle will be a non-native English speaker. We are an international church and God has called two of his apostles to him. Age may have had something to do with it... but I think he also needed some representatives from other countries speaking more openly from the podium. I'm voting for Carlos R.M. Costa or Merril J. Bateman. I admit Bateman is a throwback favorite of mine since he was the president of BYU and I met him...

Third, if you haven't heard Uchtdorf has taken President Hinckley's (uh... in number not in position) spot on the First Presidency.

Fourth, and the real reason for this post:

雨(rain) has introduced me to something called the Hinckley Challenge. Which is basically a repetition of the challenge President Hinckley gave while he was alive only in 97 days, instead of a year. That's a day for every year he lived. I've decided to take this challenge and find that it is helping me find myself already. 雨 is a good influence on me. :) It's funny how things develop. I'll probably talk more about her in the future but... not yet.

風

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My tribute

I imagine it happened something like this:

After a round of chemo, the normally vibrant old man was tired. He was at home, a grandchild sitting next to him, in her chair. He looks at the chair, and longing is in his eyes. Then he looks at his grand child, and smiles, soon he asks for a moment so that he can pray before retiring. In his prayer he asks simply if his work is done for he longs to go home. The sweet assurance that he has come to love enters his mind and he slips peacefully into sleep.

The next day he calls his family together, to say goodbye. And like Lehi of old he give his advice to each. And then, he slips peacefully into another kind of sleep. Where his master and the woman of his life and dreams were waiting.

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Eyes to see, but no hands to heal.

I don't suppose I have much to say. I have a pseudo date with the girl that I went to the concert with on Friday. That should be entertaining. I just had a discussion with my non-LDS roommates about well... sex. In such a graphic manner as I have never before discussed the subject.

And then I talked to a dear friend of mine and they told me about getting drunk. I don't really consider myself an emotional person... but my upbringing has made me very indisposed to certain things. Like sex and substance abuse. I am sure that I have a myriad of sins and vices that eat away at my soul just as quickly... but when presented with a doobie I don't have to think. The answer is no.

But hearing about him drinking... I felt a wounded. I firmly believe that there is a path to happiness. The individual steps of that path are many but the concepts behind them are the same. There is an ultimate truth, this may be why I am so resistant to drugs that affect my mood (make me happy) because you must find happiness inside yourself. You can't rely on some external stimulus to make you happy. You have to be happy despite the external stimulus.

I don't know how to help my friend. They have some challenges that I don't know how to climb. Some challenges which I will never personally be asked to defeat. How do I let him see what I see? I see so much pain in the world but have no hands to mend. I hope God knows how to heal the hurts I see. I have to have faith that he does, I do have faith that he does. I just can't stand to see such dear friends pierced by so many wounds.

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Shucking the Soul

Have you ever had one of those moments where... all the disgusting clinging leaves and corn silk/corn hair suddenly fall free of your body and you--the part of you that is you and nothing else--are able to float in some sort of strange ethereal jelly? Divulged of all the trappings of mortality you exist in a plane of consciousness that allows you simply to be?

I had one of those moments today. I went to a piano concert at BYU where the splendidly talented gentleman played Fredrick Chopin's Piano Sonata 2 (The funeral march) although his version was much better (probably because it was in person and not by some crappy video camera...)

It was amazing. And when I came back to earth... I felt lighter.

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Something I've been thinking about for a while...

I just can't think of a good way to do this because the written form is more different than the verbal form.

[her-oh-in]


























Which were you thinking:

n. A white, odorless, bitter crystalline compound, C17H17NO(C2H3O2)2, that is derived from morphine and is a highly addictive narcotic. Also called diacetylmorphine.
n.

1. A woman noted for courage and daring action.
2. A woman noted for special achievement in a particular field.
3. The principal female character in a novel, poem, or dramatic presentation. See Usage Note at hero.

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Out of Georgia

I'm leaving here today.

First thing I did when I woke up an hour earlier than I had planned: Defend the Jehovah's Witnesses. Weird.

I find it strange how people who preach free thought seek to limit it. (Atheists in their need to destroy religion.) How people who pretend to follow Jesus Christ cannot seem to love their neighbor. How the Muslims feel the need to attack everything that isn't 'me.'

I re-entered the LDS faith because it taught to accept all truth. And yet I find most members willing only to walk safely behind line of 'accepted' truth.

Why is mankind so afraid of everything that he cannot identify as 'me?' How can we expect to be happy if we live in a constant state of fear?

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I'm scared. It's all going to change starting tomorrow. I'm not going to let another amazing girl slip through my fingers.

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Christmas Wishes

I hope everyone has the best of days today, this season, and throughout the coming year.

Things I wish for you:

To be filled with the love of the Savior whose birth we celebrate, and life we seek to emulate. I hope this love manifests itself in two ways, your love for others--your ability to see past their shortcomings and flaws and truly wish them the best--and that you may love yourself so completely, as HE loves you.

Good music. To uplift the spirit, fill the heart and rest the mind.

Laughter. To cure the sadness, to forge precious memories and to light the darkness.

But mostly just the first, God bless you my friends, my brothers and sisters.

-CAB

P.S. Please respond to the last post!

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A character in a story

If you were a character in a story... how would you be described upon introduction?

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The Tempest is Raging

Master, with anguish of spirit
I bow in my grief today
The depths of my sad heart are troubled
Oh, waken and save, I pray!
Torrents of sin and of anguish
Sweep o'er my sinking soul
And I perish! I perish! dear Master
Oh, hasten, and take control.

Today my father couldn't sleep. As I keep hours that allow me to be awake during the night. I also was awake. He wanted to have a talk with me. We covered a wide array of things and ended up talking most about Love. When it comes down to it, everything is about love. It is the driving force in everything we do. Those who lose it, cease to function unless they can replace it. It started because we were talking about my sister, and his worries for her. I didn't know how to answer his queries. So I gave him the answer that works for every question about how to help someone:

Walk forward. And love them enough that they want to and can follow.

That's the gospel boiled down into simplest form. What God does for us, what we do for others. I guess John said it first, "God is Love." (1 John 4:8)

All this time searching for meaning to find it in the words of one very old gentleman (I suppose he has or will soon celebrate his 2000th birthday) who knows a lot more than I do. I was also asked advice from a young acquaintance of mine about how to deal with a sticky situation with a male friend of hers who has become excommunicated from the church. I gave her much the same advice only modified since she has no stewardship over this young man.

My father also said that he didn't think I would be happy if part of my profession did not involve listening to people and helping them solve their problems. I agree. Does that mean I need to become a shrink?

The winds and the waves obey Thy will
Peace, be still!
Whether the wrath of the storm tossed sea
Or demons or men, or whatever it be
No waters can swallow the ship where lies
The Master of ocean, and earth, and skies
They all shall sweetly obey Thy will
Peace, be still! Peace, be still!
They all shall sweetly obey Thy will
Peace, peace, be still!

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Asmond Evoloution

Alright, sorry this has taken so long, a pictographic history of Asmond with strange comments interspersed.


Asmond as a newborn. Please note the belly button. This disproves many false traditions concerning my birth.


Asmond as a slightly less new, newborn. Prior to my ability to walk. Dang straight, how many of YOUR kids could support their own weight/balance before they could walk?


Heck, I was even CUTE once... It was a long time ago.


I was taught at an early age to ignore my hair being all crazy like. I kinda like it.


Remember what I said about the hair... yeah.


Ahh, sweet birthday pictures. Apparently I was mostly photographed on my birthday. I think my parents were scared of how awesome their child was.


I know you aren't supposed to have favorite sisters... but who cares? This is mine. Also, I have no idea what was in my mouth.


I had such a mischievous grin... I'm sure that's gone now.


Ahh SANTA! I look giddy. I was giddy once... weird.


The proof that I was once athletic; and my little sister was cute.

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This Just In:

Natural Selection Dooms Humanity to Stone Age!

While working in the pharmacy section of the evil store that I work at the other day I encountered a strange sight(not for the faint of heart in fact... don't follow most of these links.). A gaggle of young native Georgian woman. Now, I was in the pharmacy section of the store. Do you know what is in the pharmacy section of the store? Things a single LDS male need not think about. This group of young women ( probably 15-17 in age ) were followed around by two hoodlum looking young men of the same age. They of course followed at a discreet distance, but made occasional remarks and were talked about... Anyway, they were looking for a pregnancy test. Of course they glanced about and finally chose to pick the cheapest one, after all results don't really matter. Then they grabbed some condoms. I personally should have thought the condoms be purchased long ago.

Natural selection is Darwin's theory that allowed for evolution. Basically the strong and smart survive long enough to reproduce.

So here is the problem: Humanity has eliminated ( except to a very small degree ) the process of natural selection in our reproductive cycles. Just about anyone can live to be old enough to reproduce, you don't have to be strong, you don't have to be smart. In fact, the smart ones prevent child birth completely. (I tired to do some research on this... but it took too much time/effort so I'll say that it may or may not be true... but it FEELS true.) Now with notable exceptions the more educated you are the fewer children you have (another one of those feels true things.)

So... how are these things related? If you equate money with being smart or strong, and poor people have more children. These are the same people that left to fend for themselves by providing food and shelter, would have died. So, we've eliminated natural selection from humanity. So what? I probably wouldn't be around if I had to provide for myself... I may be smart but I'm not strong.

However, I have noticed another trend in Americans. We like to marry people who are like us. Physically, mentally and spiritually. So smart people marry smart people, strong people marry strong people. Eventually we become morlocks and eloi. Gosh, I wish I could think up some sort of original thought. Stupid H.G. Wells came up with this blog YEARS ago. Only 'better.'

Oh well, moral of the story, you smart people, marry strong people and have smart, strong kids.

The end.

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All over the place

While taking a shower just now I realized that either my blogging style reflects my mental babble, or my mental babble reflects my blogging style. Because I THINK in blogs. So... here comes some things I've been thinking about lately:

My parents left for Indiana yesterday, I've had the house to myself since then. I tried out being naked. Not as much fun as you'd think, apparently buttocks are more sensitive than one realizes plus... you feel guilty about sitting down because you'll leave butt juice or cooties or something everywhere you sit. Not a pleasant thought and you can't go downstairs because the stairs are right before the front door, which has two rather revealing windows on either side of it. Yeah, I don't think I like naked.

I'm really grateful for Easter at the Bockholts. I wish I could do Thanksgiving there, and only partially because of Sister Bockholt's pie. Mmmmmmm. Chocolate silk pie. Mmmmmmm. I owe a lot to that family and I don't think I've ever properly thanked them. So thanks. Pass it on to the rest of your house! And Happy Thanksgiving! I wish I could be more like them, married for one thing. Incredibly jealous of that, but also... these are people whom I have known for a very, very long time. I like them despite and maybe because of their flaws. That's gotta be a good thing. I miss them. I don't miss the dogs though, so scratchy. :)

On account of it being thanksgiving I'm going to actually make some real food. Chicken, rice, onions, pees, and peppers. It's going to be tasty. Just wish I had some chocolate silk pie.

Also, clarification, if you read this blog odds are I miss you. I can't think of anyone that has the address that I don't miss immeasurably. I generally think of my blogs as going to a larger audience than they actually are though. So... yeah. :)

To food!

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So much to say

I've been planning this post for a long time. And as such there is so much to say that I will not cover half of what I wanted to write. So, forgive me and I hope you know there is so much more between the lines.

1. I work at a large department/grocery store where I do overnight stocking of (mostly) the housewares section. I understand about 2/3rds of what my coworkers say. Their accent makes things INCREDIBLY difficult. It also makes for some funny/irritating things. For example... shopping carts here they are called buggies, but since Georgians have an accent to me it sounds like they are saying bungies. I hate it, and on that principle alone I have refused to call them anything but shopping carts.

2. I don't think I'm a good match for "hopelessly romantic" which is a nym for a girl most of you don't know, and don't know the nym for. My apologies for not keeping up on my life as much as I should. I am in fact still infatuated with Unicorn. I think I'll actually do something about it when I move back to Utah in less than a month and a half.

3. Cathi Palmer wrote me a few messages. I quoted her a bit ago and somehow she managed to find my blog. That's cool! While I was on my mission a poem she wrote was included on the back page of The New Era, I clipped it because I liked the poem so much... and I think I kinda liked the picture too. The poem has stuck with me and often comes to mind when that sense of something inside me refuses to voice itself. I have to admit... I had pictured her as somewhat younger (mostly because it was in The New Era) than she is more of a peer it's strange how the internet can bring two together two people from such differing backgrounds and stations in life together.

4. I just reread "Speaker for the Dead". How did I miss all the psychology the first time through? I mean... wow! I blame the fact I was 12 when I read it.

5. I've recently reread "The Screwtape Letters" and can I say that it took me about 10x longer than it took me to read Speaker. I want to re-read it again, such amazing concepts!

6. I recently read Ender's Shadow and one of Bean's comments really struck me. While he was in the transport from battle school to tactical school he was isolated from his peers. He stated that his thoughts circled back in upon themselves and it was harder to think clearly. I feel much the same way in my self imposed isolation. There is so much I want to talk to people about... but I just don't have anyone around.

7. One of the greatest parts about my job is that while it keeps my hands busy my mind is relatively free to wander. I think I'll have to make it a point in my life to have some sort of regular menial task that frees my mind to do just such a thing. That aspect of my life more than anything else has sped my recuperation. I have always filled my mind with... titillations. The forced introspection has done my soul much good.

That is all for now. I miss most of you and am working on missing the rest. :)

-Cam

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Prayers?

It's funny how things work in life. I've been living in GA for about two months now, and I life hasn't really gotten a lot better. I'm coming more in touch with my wishes...but doing things is still an incredibly difficult thing for me. It's just too hard to try these days.

Anyone who meets me in person will probably not realize how hard it is for me to act, in person I am generally a very outgoing person who likes to do things with others. I hope they don't see the almost paralyzing lack of fear that I suffer from. Yeah, lack of fear. I think a little bit of fear is a good thing, fear of being alone, fear of dying, fear of being made to look a fool, fear of being caught. I don't experience those fears and so I calmly let life pass me by without even trying to ride the rapids. Last semester I had a movie night at my apartment every week. It was the hardest thing I did that semester. It required planning, it required work, and it usually involved disappointment.

I had to pick out the movie, I sent out invites, I created a facebook event, I had to find the movie, I had to make sure all the AV stuff was ready for the movie, I cleaned the apartment, I went and personally invited people. I don't think I realized just how hard it was for me to do it until just now. The hardest part was sitting there, waiting for people to show up. I tried not to care, but sitting outside on the porch until 30 minutes after it was supposed to start waiting for someone to show up...

Anyway, one of the successes of those events was that some people did in fact show up. One was a girl who we will call Ohio. I talked to Ohio and enjoyed the company but that was about it, Cowboy roomie #2 said he liked her and there was no way I was going to be able to compete, so I put it out of my mind. Still, we were friends. When I came out to Georgia we began a facebook correspondence which isn't unusual. But today as I was responding to one of her messages something struck me.

She said she had been praying for me. Now, for I'm not sure if we will ever find out just how much merit our prayers have, but I imagine sometime when I get to heaven I'll find out that x prayed for me and because of that y happened. My mother when I was a teenager and struggled with some of the hardest decisions and realizations of my life, things that brought me back to church and away from the pains that I otherwise felt. Things that healed me body and soul. And now, Ohio praying for me, may very well be connected to the events of last Tuesday.

I haven't been sleeping well, which isn't an usual thing for someone who is running from life and has no obligations, but this particular morning I went to sleep around 7 and got out of bed at about 7:30 unable to sleep. I got on my computer, and for some strange reason I filled out an application to work for a company online. I answered all their silly questions and figured they'd give me a call in a few days...

They called me later that afternoon and asked me to come in for an interview. I got the job, I start tomorrow.

Thank you Ohio, thank you everyone else. Perhaps with your prayers I'm not as lost as I thought I was.

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My favorite room

In my parents big new house we have a lot of these new fangled rooms that we didn't have in our old big house. For example, we have a bonus room. This room is really just a craft room but you can only enter it by going through either the bathroom or the library. The Library is another one of these new rooms we didn't have in my old house. I think this is mostly because we had so many bed rooms in my old house.

But... the library is my favorite room. It's actually two rooms with a large arched entry between the two. It has books in it. Lots of books. My mom is a librarian and between her, my dad and the rest of the family they have managed to acquire 10 bookshelves worth of books for themselves. Sorry 11. The room also contained a huge new desk that is absolutely amazing and beautiful. This is set up in the middle of the main room of the library. Behind it is another desk where my dad's ancient (four years old) pc sits. My laptop sits on the big desk and another older desk sists to the side and contained the router, cable modem and printers.

The Thomas Kincaid painting that my parents picked up in Hawaii sits on the floor leaning against one of the bookshelves just waiting to be hung. The phone outlet hangs out of the wall it's wires exposed to the prying public. The mid-sized closet is full of my Dad's old jackets in horrible fleece and even his old worn out leather one. With a few garment bags holding what must be some dresses of my mothers. I had no idea she had dresses that needed garment bags.

Only two of the bookshelves are in this, the outer room, of the library. They contain the children's fiction and romance novel sections of our library, I told you my mom was a librarian right? Next we move over to the reading area of the library.

A large black bean bag sits in the middle of the floor where I have placed it so as to be within easy reach of everything. A comfortable recline-able black leather chair and footrest/food rest sit in the other corner. The beanbag is nearest my guilty pleasure section. (Do not read the book: The Secret Journal of Brett Coulton by Kay Lynn Mangum by the way... such a horribly good read) LDS novels. Then it hits the church section. Travel books and reference media. Two lamps one the stain glassed touch kind that seem to be in every den known to man kind and another the large standing-room kind that was invented because apartments stopped putting in central lighting.

And on the desk, or on the floor near the bean bag. Somewhere near where I am, the vanilla cinnamon candle and a small box of matches.

What's your favorite room?

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Candles and Cinnamon Bears

In this big house where my parents live I sometimes have a hard time finding things. One day while glancing around and through cupboards I chanced upon a treasure trove of old memories. In the form of candles.

When I was younger, I'd spend a lot of my time in my room reading. Well, being as I was a prepubescent boy my hygiene wasn't exactly... exemplary. As such, the room began to smell, a little, of course since I was sitting in the room reading I didn't smell anything. But every time I, or my mother, opened the door the smell leaked out. And soon that little smell became a big smell. My mother asked me to keep the door and window open in an effort to allow fresh air in. That didn't work. So she gave me a candle.

It was a cinnamon vanilla candle from the Salt City Candle Company. I love the smell of that candle. But I'm a boy, so I didn't actually light the candle, just kept it in my room with the top off. My mother would come in occasionally and light the candle when the smell became... overpowering. The candle lasted years.

I think it no great surprise that I liked it so much. That smell became instantly associated with some of the happiest times of my youth. Sitting quietly in my room my mind safely whisked away to worlds where magic and dragons were real and love was how every story ended.

Looking back on those times I wonder if I have in my some innate love for the cinnamon smell it contained or if perhaps it's scent combined with those memories created in me a love for the scent. Either way, I am in love with all things cinnamon--except the actual taste of cinnamon which doesn't at all remind me of the smell and I don't really find very pleasing. There is only one universal exception to that rule... cinnamon bears. I love cinnamon bears. Let me restate that just in case you didn't understand it before. I love cinnamon bears. Emphasis on the love, accent it, bolded, etc., etc., ect.

In high school I would often go down to Macey's and purchase myself a pound or two of the sticky red substance. Only to devour it within hours. Now, cinnamon bears are one of the few things I've never been selfish of and would always offer to share my bears in the hopes that all could enjoy their tantalizing nature. Most of the time it served me well. But once, just once it led to one of the greatest violations of my young life.

There I was sitting in the movie theatre with a girl. Sharing my bears like always, they had been snuck in of course anyone who purchases candy at the movie theatres is silly. They sat calmly on my lap and anyone could reach and grab a few to be enjoyed in their seats. I passed them around as is wont to be done in such cases and then made sure that they returned, very promptly to me. You may think harshly of me for this, but I assure you I was only looking out for the thing which I loved.

Well, a girl (who... I guess you could call my date) was sitting next to me... she reached over and took the bag. I was flabbergasted. I had already passed the bag around in my perfunctory duty and here she was stealing my cinnamon bears. She had not asked for the bag, it was easily within reach of her hands but no that wasn't good enough she stole my cinnamon bears. I was flabbergasted. I was appalled. I would have none of that. I rallied my troops and went to rescue my hostage. But, and I can only assume that in her devious womanly nature she had planned this well in advance, somehow in the ensuing battle. There was a causality, my hand. This ruthless girl had traded my hand for the bag of cinnamon bears. Now at first I thought it a fair trade, but then... I realized what I was doing!

I was no spring chicken, I was a freshman at BYU! I knew what happened when girls held your hand, it's not pretty. I'll spare the details for those of you who happen to have maintained your innocence but I assure you... it's enough to make the hair on your chest curl. But still... I was willing to sacrifice for my cinnamon bears.

As should you. Do not allow them to take your precious sweets from you! NEVER GIVE UP! NEVER SURRENDER!

** The previous became a rant on the evils of womenkind because the author was again under the influence of the sweet, intoxicating aroma of cinnamon vanilla. He is not to be held accountable for his actions. And please... send him cinnamon bears, Georgia doesn't have bin candy! **

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Across the Country

Well, as some of you may know... and as most of you may not. I've moved. Across the country, to Georgia. I hate it.

For the longest time I've said that the only thing I feel these days is sadness and depression. But then I met... let's call her... Emily. Emily is a girl much like myself with all the issues and problems that arise from being like me. Emily moved to Spain, then I moved to Georgia. I thought I might love her... but now I realize that I don't, I'm fairly bad at showing the part of me that actually matters.

Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself...

I moved to Georgia because I felt it was the right thing to do, not because it was something that I wanted to do, or even really felt like doing. But because I NEEDED to do it. I think for the first time in a long time God managed to send me a message. I thought I had hit rock bottom... but I didn't. I think here I finally emotionally have. Rock bottom isn't full of depression, it isn't even full of anger. It's being alone. I've always felt alone, but now... now I am alone. I have come to realize how much I need other people.

I was asked what I'm doing... and the answer is exactly what the pause has indicated: nothing. I have become a void, dull.. listless. I even missed my To the Left by Th. I realize now... maybe just a little what outer darkness is all about, why being together with your family is so important. I know why people get up in the morning, why they move about and exist. It's for that hope, that chance, that maybe today... maybe today they'll find family. And if they've found it, they get up because... they've found it and you never want to lose that. You'll give up everything for that chance, that opportunity.

I miss everyone so much. I know what I want now... I've just got to find a way to remind myself of what it is that I want. Something that reminds me right when I wake up in the morning. To give me a reason to wake up.

-Me

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To DC

Well, after a few miles I've successfully managed to make my way from Provo, UT -> Washington, DC via Goshen, IN. It is to date, the longest road trip I've ever made, although falling far short of the longest vacation but will achieve both of those ends in the near future. Which is sad... because the vast amount of legwork to be covered will be made without companionship in the car.

Thoughts on the Journey:

1. While sweets may sounds like a good idea, they very rarely are a good idea for a long road trip. Do not purchase too many of them, but rather enjoy a plethora of options for your food resources. Mainly focus on healthier foods because they won't make you sick after 4 hours of sleep in Iowa, and driving 12 hours the day before. With 10 more hours of driving the next day.

2. Our bodies are strange things, you learn this after having three people cramped in an 8 by 8 square for nigh on 48 hours straight.

3. Compromises are strange things.

4. I hate it when other people fail to do what they are supposed to do. I wonder how often I fall into that category?

5. I really kinda do like my family... who would have thunk.

6. I hate how easy it is for a girl to control the thoughts of a man. All I wanted was a few hours with my cousins. They are such cool people. Compromise will only make me feel better if you marry this girl soon. Otherwise... I hate you.

More info on the actual journey:

We started Friday at about 9 am. Jay drove through to Laramie on I-80. I drove from that point, where I started to drive. I drove from Laramie to... somewhere in eastern Nebraska. Along the way we found a fantastic lightning storm. Uncharacteristically dry but... it heralded the rain that would come in the subsequent 14 hours of driving. I miss Texan lightning storms. After Ryan picked up driving at about 11:30-12:00 we headed through the rest of Nebraska and on into Iowa. This is where I slept, in the back seat of the car... in the rain... Ryan drove for a few hours and then Jay took over again, he drove until 7-8 where I picked it back up just in time to drive through Chicago. I hate Chicago. I finished all the way through to Goshen, where my aunt and uncle live. We power napped, ate some real food, and showered in Goshen. From there Ryan drove another two hours (he hadn't slept the night before...) into Iowa. Jason finished up what was left of Ryan's 4 hour shift, I took over from just west of Penn through to Maryland. From which point I acted as Navigator to Jay as he finished up the last leg of the trip. Driving times:

Jason: 17.5
Cam: 18.5
Ryan: 6

Coming soon: DC, DC -> NY, Wicked, NY, NY -> GA, GA, GA -> Home.

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How I'm doing.

I was asked today how I was doing, and as I am in a habit of answering all such questions that are asked in earnest here goes:

1. 33.6 that's the standard answer.
2. I've been better, there are things in my life which I find amazingly worthwhile, but at the same time I am amazingly broke. So, I'm thinking about money issues a lot, or not thinking about them a lot depending upon the day. I need to get a new job, or at least another one. But I can't because I'm leaving town soon to go on a road trip I absolutly cannot afford in a car that needs repairs that I can't even dream of being able to pay for.
3. I'm listening to Josh Groban's The Prayer, which is amazing, and I am doing much better.
4. For the first time in a very, very long time I feel as though I am feeling again. I have a bad habit of shutting emotions away into a corner and ignoring them. I am making a conscious choice to feel and I am actually doing it from time to time. It hurts, I feel alone... a lot. I guess that's what happens when you spend most of your time shutting people out so that you won't feel. But God how I wish I felt loved sometimes.

Thank you for asking. I love it when people really mean it. How are you?

-C

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