Went to bed last night with the sound of mortars still going off in the next room down the hall. The Cal of Duty marathon was entering the 11th hour by that point, and I was about sick of it. Every time the deranged lunatics would start firing the .50 cal, I'd have to put a pillow on top of my head. And did they really have to call down an airstrike every 5 minutes? If I end up dreaming about Apocalypse Now and have Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries" stuck in my head all night, I know who I have to knife.

Part 3- Healing Wounds.

I'm not much in a writing mood tonight, but I'm forcing myself to before a long slumber on Veteran's day tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it. Had a busy Sunday. It was a grand musical bonanza yesterday after church. I spent most of the afternoon loading songs back on to my computer with the new hard drive, then went off with Sligh back to Gainesville. Ripped the skin off my toe right before I left, but that's what I get for trying to play soccer and basketball at the same time. One raucous indoor soccer game later and it was time for bed, but I seem to have forgotten about that, as I was still installing programs, and Ben was back from Vandy, so there was much to be discussed. A night of strange dreams followed, but I attest that to the fact that I ate only kettle corn for dinner. The computer is almost back up again, and the toe will be better soon. Wounds heal.

A Night in November.

Standard Disclaimer: Due to the saturated scope of the World Wide Web, this excerpt from my life has been heavily censored and edited, more for my own amusement than to protect anyone, as no one was innocent. It is up to you to decide what is true, and what is fiction. Read on.

I am tired. My body aches with exhaustion after a long day, but there must be a few words said before I escape into sleep, that greatest of nocturnal pastimes. The world is quiet here, in the space of my old living room, save but for the slow hum of the washer a few rooms over, and the steady clack of my keys. Nothing stirs but me.

I was startled awake this morning by the dog, who was so anxious to chase squirrels outside all over creation that she careened into my bed after doing six or so laps of the U.S. proper. She's a frenzied little thing, except during thunderstorms. Then she hides under the bed.

Being a college man, I was quick to divine all sorts of scrumptious things we had to eat at home, and settled on half a loaf of banana bread and orange juice. Food always tastes better when you aren't paying for it, I'd wager.

Then, in the spirit of not paying for things, I convinced my mother to give me a long-overdue shearing. It was a mistake. Although my hair had not been cut in more than two months, I was far from a Nazarene, or even an Amish. But cut she did, on a kitchen stool in the driveway with all creation watching. My only consolation was that AC/DC was playing in the background.

My brother had long since been impressed into service as far as mowing my girlfriends lawn by this point, so we went there next. Although shanghaied, I've not yet heard him complain of it, as he's paid a high bounty and is fed on top of that. While he toiled at the yard, I toiled on a puzzle of an Italian mountain villa or some such nonsense. We got everything but the sky, and by that point the popular opinion was to just slide some blue construction paper in and frame the sucker.

 After that I was on a holy mission to resurrect my computer, which had, at this point, been virtually dead to the world for four days hence. My hard drive was toast. Bought a new one, brought it home, yanked the old one out, shoved the new one in, and after much sweat, blood and tears, it is now officially functional again, for the moment. My faith in this old clunker has been shaken, true, but I'm hoping in a comeback. Both for it and my bank account, that is.

Now, as that miracle has been attested to, I can sleep. Good night.

Entry 1- A Lovely Sunday.

It's been an unusually productive Sunday here today. I've started up a new blog in a bout of whimsy, mostly because I feel like I have a lot to write about, but not enough time to write it down in a journal, and certainly not any more goose feather quills with which to write it in the first place. (I'm not even going to mention the horrors of inking and blotting, as such terrors are unfair to beset upon an audience at the debut. It can wait.) So, in honor of that, I have a fairly brief first entry for my enthused public.

It's because I've accomplished something today that I'm sitting down to chronicle it, as I'm not sure when the opportunity for either shall present itself again. I had already pulled myself from the bed in the usual struggle this morning before I realized that one of my favorite holidays, Daylight Savings Time, was here again at last. So, I hopped back in, without remorse for once.

This productive trend might carry through the week, so I'm hopeful. (Some would take this opportunity to write about what they have coming up in the week, but forcing the audience to read through things twice is the mark of the inestimably priggish. Wait and see.)

After the usual Sunday morning affair, complete with sweet tea at lunch, I returned to the dorm and did some important cultural research before confronting the homework tasks for the weekend. I began with "Requiem for a German Past," from my possibly-soon-to-be-dropped German history class, but that's tomorrow's news. Full of Swagger, I cracked on for my closed book/notes take-home midterm which was an unusually arrangement, but I got to crack wise about Herodotus and throw that cow Sontag's presumptions into disarray. I enjoyed it. Suddenly, the fire alarm went off.

Apparently some girl in Section F had incinerated something in the kitchen, as girls at this college are often loathe to do. It's also the same reason every guy at this college have sets of protective ear coverings strategically placed around the dorm in the case of such an eventuality, ranging from greasy foam inserts to the fluffy pink earmuffs. The only causality was the guy in the shower.

Fortunately, I had already prepared for such a circumstance by inviting myself over to dinner at Sligh's, and swept up the rice, salad, extra croutons and dressing, movie case, and managed to salvage the eggs in the mad rush, but had to sacrifice my left eardrum as I bustled down the stairs. I was in a good humour though. I played a few bars on the harmonica as I waited.

It was a good night. Couldn't get Sligh to agree to more than one game of Halo, but we had watched the Untouchables before that. Sean Connery always puts me in a cheerfully destructive mood too. Maybe I'll sleep it off, but I doubt it. I'm keeping all my clocks at the old time this week so I feel more productive. So I'll just be really early for class. Or something.