BoldUlysses.com

At 12:12 AM, on the morning of Monday, November 12th, 2001 A.D., I hold my finished, laminated, and bound portfolio in my hands.

Thank you, Lord.

Matt’s pearls of wisdom for Sunday, November 11:

1. When the gas gauge on your car reads “E,” it means “EMPTY,” not “Eventually you might want to start thinking about considering the possibility of perhaps beginning the thought process of choosing a gas station at which to fill me up.”

Positive effects of heeding this advice (your results may vary): You won’t coast to a halt on the Durham freeway and have to hitchhike with a very nice couple from El Salvador, who, while very thoughtful, also speak very little English, making directions to the nearest gas station a challenge to communicate, and, having made it to the gas station, you will not have to buy a gallon of water only to prompty pour it all out, watering the gas station’s flowers in the process, since the friendly, helpful folks at said gas station didn’t have a GAS CAN. Hmm.

2. When your automatic transmission-equipped car doesn’t start for some reason, make sure it’s in PARK, not DRIVE.

Positive effects of heeding this advice (once again, your results may vary): After the above gas acquisition experience, you won’t spend $90 on a new starter and a whole Sunday morning trying to get over the the Cary Towne Center mall parking lot before the mall opens so you can fix your car yourself, only to discover that it was really in Drive, not Park, you numbskull, and so avoiding a trip back to Advance Auto, where the clerks and you have a good friendly laugh as you return the starter before you drive home, starving.

3. Pick a hobby that will not frustrate the tar out of you, but will relax and soothe your nerves and/or thrill you with no possibility of aggravation.

Positive effects of heeding this advice (you know the drill): You won’t spend all afternoon trying to fix your father’s classic car, which, while admirably easy to work on, will not work properly (oh, the irony), and, after you’ve set everything up by the book and by the very reputable video you spent 4 hours watching, the car will not proceed to spit a mild gusher of fuel out of the float bowl vent tube onto the hot exhaust manifold, creating a minor emergency for which you very nearly need a fire extinguisher.

Remember all that stuff in my previous post about struggling to become a man? It’s still valid.

Where has my muse gone? I haven’t written any even halfway decent poetry since I took that poetry course a year ago… Hmm. I need inspiration. Have I run out of ideas? Am I stuck with one mood or type of poetry that my natural selection of words and phrases caters to and that’s it? I’m beginning to ask the questions. Poetry used to be so easy for me… I remember getting into a discussion about whether prose or poetry was easier; I maintained poetry was since I could just let myself go. But lately when I take that approach it ends up sounding hackneyed and recycled. I don’t know.

Her words a few days ago struck a chord. She said I’m too influenced by others; that in effect I let the opinions of others shape my life. I can see it. It’s difficult, though. I asked Aaron whether her observation held any validity from his vantage point; he said it did. He said that I will often seem to disregard my father’s advice, then later, perhaps subconsciously, implement it. It’s so hard for me to see, though, but I am beginning to. Today at work, for instance, I could feel myself slipping into the same pattern. I was talking with Ed, my manager, a new believer (praise God), and I could tell I was just listening to his words on the surface, playing along, letting the conversation roll over my ears without trying to perceive the needs underneath, to be the friend that I need to be to him. He has many, many questions, concerns, and issues, and I wouldn’t be a true friend if I didn’t try to speak to those and lift him up. It takes more energy, yes, it’s something I’m not programmed to do, yes, but am I programmed to be the man I need to be from the get-go? No, I don’t think so. I feel an extraordinary kinship these days with a series of statues Michaelangelo sculpted (bear with me). These statues are only half-completed; half Greek hero or kingly figure or whatever they were intended to be, and half unhewn stone, rough and fresh. I feel like the intent behind those statues, like I am trying to pull myself out of the rough stone of my past and forge the man I am to be. The metaphor applies to the entire process, though, as it’s stone, and I can’t do it myself, not even to begin. What does it mean to be a man? What does that mean, in practical terms? I thrist with every breath for ever more fragments of the answer.

I haven’t brushed my teeth yet today. Having risen at noon, it’s not been such a big deal so far. If I decide to gorge myself on sweets between now and the time I hit the sack, there will be cause for concern, but oh well. I was going to get up an hour earlier, but I didn’t think it would do justice to my status as a college student to get up before noon (I honestly thought this lying in bed).

David’s team won their game in the second round of the state playoffs. It was a marathon/nail-biter of game, however. The game was scoreless for the entire regulation period (two 80-minute halves) and all of overtime (two 10-minute overtimes and two 5 minute overtimes), so it came down to penalty kicks, which our team won. I know I’m not on the team or anything, but it still doesn’t exactly feel like a win. Penalty kicks are no way to decide a game. I’ll ask David how he feels about it when he returns from youth group. They’re heading to Charlotte on Wednesday to play the best team in the state for the next round.

To use
the flashing moment in ways the scepter has
difficulty discerning, even–The
templates inside me move, sliding across
one another with a superficial scrape.
I need
the cutless needles that enclose the tips
of her hair: To assume the
warmth of my breath, pulled nearer as my exhales
in concert
draw themselves into her skin. It’s an ambiguous thing, make it
what it means,
lose me, I talk myself into this mobius strip of words. The head above mine nods, and I start
again.
Philanthropy is never that which the sermon wishes, time, and she moves again.
Spinning song lyrics words recycling
the groove of an ascetic scribe;
I express the knots into a frenzied straightness,
only to once again whistle
an aboriginal strain

New music, good music. The poeticism of it all is like a breath of fresh air into an emotional mechanism scratching and clawing for creativity, newness. The expansiveness of the chords fills the sky of my closed eyes, lifting my head as I breathe…

hey hey sha la la

It feels good to listen to. I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or not. It’s accessible, ambiguious, and exquisitely wrapped around the rawness of its own complexity. I really must ask for this album for Christmas (Achtung Baby, U2).

I have it! I knew someone would unlock the mystery one day. I did have a sense about these things all along, but lacked the analytical and logical nature to postulate the theorem…

C. S. Lewis had it right, somehow… We get older, not wiser, or more knowledgeable, but older. If I have a lot of knowledge about the world and its intricacies, I am quite old. Every day I rise and attend class I get older, every time I learn something new about the way society functions or how to be responsible in certain areas, I become very old indeed.

The setting was Perelandra, one of Venus’ names, a pristine planet shrouded in a canopy of mist, a new Eden upon which God had placed a woman, pure, and very young. The protagonist, Ransom, was sent to the planet to protect her from the influences of the evil one, who tried to make her very old (in a bad sense) by corrupting her mind and heart and turning them from her kinship with her Creator. Age and youth were the only words she could find to define concepts such as wisdom and knowing good from evil, and somehow, sometimes, they seem to explain things when all else has failed. It’s a good book. Read it, especially you science-fiction fans.

I’m learning to breathe
Learning to crawl
Learning that You and You alone can break my fall

Simple desires, grown out of a vast universe not of our own making. My heart reaches again, a perennial event of Sunday evenings. As my eyes scan the bookshelves at home, stocked full by a family of homeschooler packrats, I can’t but help linger on the volumes discussing the complexities of the universe, stars, planets, black holes, and various other phenomena. Why always this fascination with forces so vast the perspective of my mind has no boundaries to encompass them? Why tonight? My experiences at the beach touch a sliver of this captivation within me. The conceptual borderline between ocean and sky, so expansive, being swept over by winds that inhabit this sphere of my perception, feeling the breeze trickle over my skin, knowing that same breeze could range to the horizon–these sensations, underneath my all-pervasive sense of wonder, seep into the pores of my soul. And tonight, with the exertions of my heart, the subconscious peeks around the corner of the conscious, welling up again. Perhaps it’s a tacit rhythm within me, weekly, that brings these things back again; I don’t know. All I know is I am longing again, just longing, and the universe is my companion.

Enter Duke Orsino, Viola, Curio, and Lords

Duke: Belong you to the Lady Olivia, friends?

Feste: Ay, sir; we are some of her trappings.

Duke: I know thee well; how dost thou, my good fellow?

Feste: Truly, sir, the better for my foes and the worse
for my friends.

Duke: Just the contrary; the better for thy friends.

Feste: No, sir, the worse.

Duke: How can that be?

Feste: Marry, sir, they praise me and make an ass of me; now my foes tell me plainly I am an ass: so that by my foes, sir, I profit in the knowledge of myself, and by my friends, I am abused: so that, conclusions to be as kisses, if your four negatives make your two affirmatives why then, the worse for my friends and the better for my foes.

Duke: Why, this is excellent.

Feste: By my troth, sir, no; though it please you to be
one of my friends…

And thus another gentle epic begins, late on a Saturday night, surrounded by familiar sounds. The whir of the fan, the distant slams of doors, people entering and exiting the building, an environment of serenity. Of course, it also happens to be the one most condusive to driving one absolutely balmy when one is alone with one’s thoughts, but we’ll lay that concern aside for the moment.

Today was good in spite of the fact that I didn’t get a haircut. I had a good lunch with great conversation. I really do love conversing with people who are open-minded and don’t act like they have everything figured out (I’m not thinking of anyone at all who breaks this rule; just making a statement). There’s something quite disarming when you meet fellow travelers equally perplexed about the subtlties of existence (or not so subtle, as some would argue). In any event, many subjects were discussed, among them the morals of the Chinese culture, Hugh Jackman, the quirkily contrived version of English the Japanese seem to have latched onto, and the almost universal discrepancy among people nowadays to apologize for something rather than changing it when they know they’re at fault. I had artichoke hearts on my pizza, a first. Traffic was hectic around Chapel Hill and Twinkie definitely needs new brake pads. How can I tell? Simple. When a sound emanates from the front brakes like Egyptians have started building another pyramid nearby, dragging stone across stone, I suspect new brake pads might be in order. The rotors are probably shot by this point, but they aren’t getting fixed. Perhaps I’ll just have them turned… I’ll figure it out.

It’s almost time for sweaters and blankets and swishing feet through carpets of leaves again. I wonder if I’ll go skiing again this year. I want to achieve new heights of stupidity in barrelling down the slopes with nary a hint of control. Silly, you say? No, you just haven’t lived… :o) Speed is an intoxicating thing, as I think everyone realizes when they’re hurtling down the runway in an airplane, and the moment arrives just before the wheels leave the ground and you can sense the cadence of the speed synchronized with the gaps in the concrete runway, a rapid ka-thunk ka-thunk. Whether you’re scared to death or thrilled beyond measure, or somewhere in between, it’s mesmerizing, like a dynamic version of watching a fireplace. And then everything smooths out, and all you hear is the grind of the turbine engines generating untold amounts of thrust under the wings… I live for that moment, leaving the ground, experiencing another element even wrapped in the protective metal shell of the airliner. It’s an element that has another dimension, altitude, intrinsically linked to its nature… It’s that dimension that defines the freedom of the air. Even if I lose almost all sensation of speed, somehow, subconsciously, the knowledge that I’m experiencing something man wasn’t designed to experience compels me… And I will become a pilot. God has furrowed my heart and planted the seeds… Water them, Lord, quickly. I long for it.

Lord You have my heart, and I will search for Yours
Jesus take my life and lead me on.

And I will praise You Lord,
And I will sing of Love come down,
And as you show Your Face,
We’ll see Your Glory here.

Spot, have you seen this? I stumbled across it today. Is any of it remotely on target?

Took an excellent three-hour nap today, one where no one woke me and I got up when I wanted to. ‘Twas very nice. It was difficult to get up this morning, though, having been my usual dumb self and stayed up much later than I should have last night. All five of us were in church this morning for the early service, a rare sight. I wish Ed had come. I told him the format of the service last night, and when I mentioned that we took communion every week, he expressed that he believed that he needed to be baptized before he took communion. I told him that was fine, but he still felt he would feel uncomfortable if everyone else went up and participated and he sat in the row. I told him there was no need to feel that way, but he insisted. He said he was going to take his father to a local church this morning, so he’ll come next week, which works out well since we’re having a water baptism that Sunday. We’ll see what happens.

My brother David made it into the paper. Of course, those of you who have seen him know there’s no way he could be 190 lbs… I think the figure is closer to 170. He’s such a strong witness to his team. They’ve taken to calling him “Jesus” in the latino pronunciation because he carries his Bible with him in his soccer bag. I couldn’t be more proud of him. For all those of you who want to see a good soccer game, come to Jordan High tomorrow night at 7 p.m. It’s rather fun to have something of a sports star in your immediate family. Perhaps I’m trying to relive my high school years vicariously through David since I was home-schooled during that whole period. Nah… I’m just proud of him and enjoy the games.

“Joke” of the day: Two guys walk into a bar… And it left a big bar-mark on their heads.

(My apologies to those of you who’ve heard it before)

Written three, four years ago:

“It was in wintertime, before the Christmas tree goes up and we can still have fires in the fireplace. That would make it about late November, then. I would come home really late from work those days. It was cold outside, not as cold as it gets up there in Idaho, but bitterly cold to the south. It had been one of those days when I was walking, and the wind just picked up and blew right through me. It happened late at night — there were a few overhead lights; all the shops along the street were closed, shutters closed and locked against the cold. I had a big overcoat on that wasn’t doing much. As the wind picked up and took my breath away, I was just overwhelmed by an immense feeling of longing; I don’t know what or who for, I just knew I was longing. It was the kind of feeling that makes you just reach up instinctively and turn up your collar and narrow your eyes, especially in the coldness. I drove home later that night, got home about 11:30. The rest of the family had long since gone to bed. The house was dark when I got back; not even a porchlight greeted me. It took my key a while to find the keyhole; then I remembered it was unlocked. My mind was obviously somewhere else that night. I walked in and shut the door as quietly as I could (which still wasn’t very quiet) took off my coat, and sat down on the couch. The only lights in the house were a little light we keep lit in the kitchen at night, and the glowing embers from the fire, which hadn’t been tended to for hours, but still kept up a low red glow, like a lava lamp, and radiated a subtle warmth. I stared at the smoldering fire for a while, thinking nothing at all. Then I went upstairs, put my pj’s on, gathered my cd player, and came downstairs again. It was just something about that night in particular. I sat down right in front of the fire, hearing an occasional sizzle or low pop from the embers and feeling the warmth through the almost-flannel of my pj’s. I put on Duncan Sheik, and listened to those two songs, for some reason. It made me long for someone in my life more than almost anything had before. I just fantasized about sitting on the couch in front of the fire; no lights in the room save the fire itself. The music I listened to would be on the cd player. We would just be holding each other, and at the point in Days Go By where he says, ‘in your own experience / have you ever known tenderness / …like this’ I would kiss her very very delicately and carefully, yet with a veiled abandon…”

Watched a profoundly silly, and yet somehow entertaining movie, The Fast and the Furious, earlier with Aaron at the $1.50 theater on campus. Fortunately, the reel didn’t break this time (as happened when we attempted to watch Notting Hill a couple of years ago). I wasn’t much into the import racer subculture the movie touted, just the machinery. Don’t care much for the big fins or scoops or foils or decals so long as it works. Everybody has their hobbies…

Going to try to do some homework tonight, something rarely undertaken on a Friday night. Barnes & Noble is closed and I don’t yet have a group of friends to hang out with, so homework it shall be. It’s very quiet in here. Perhaps I’ll take a walk later over to the Court of the Carolinas. Yes, I will. Tomorrow, the rain will come.

So tired, for some reason. Perhaps it was my run last night. My hamstrings (which I never really knew I had until this week) are still quite sore. I don’t know. I just feel bleary and haphazard.

Subtly, the rest of the cacophony fades away, leaving orchestral strains bleeding through one another. They avenge the pristine architecture of the song, buried under the remains of drums and guitars, overstating the message. Such a simple message, really. It is one of existing, appreciating with the knowledge that only a first glance can gather, the tenets which bind our hearts the moment our fleeting eyes linger upon the features of someone we recognize. I may not have even seen her before, but my heart proclaims a kinship and clings fastidiously against all odds. Some call it love at first sight, some know better, and their intuitive knowledge testifies to the nature of their claim: They just know.

We may drift apart. There are no givens in the life we have chosen except those we cling to by faith, a faith that speaks of those givens by its very presence, since we could not have it apart from the hope and the promises to which we hold unswervingly. I accept my destiny again with open arms, for all its worldly uncertainty to pour down upon me. But I remain wrapped in the warmth of His grace, His provision, the faithfulness from which faithfulness derives its meaning. There is no other way besides this.

And one bright morning, I may fall in love…

Tired and sore from this new workout routine Aaron, our friend Craig, and I are doing. I have one package of Easy Mac left, too: not a good thing.

I went to the mall with Aaron and Craig after our workout in order for them to buy some protein powder from GNC. While in the mall, I noticed the Williams-Sonoma store. I would really love to work for them. They create some of the most artfully designed appliances and products I’ve seen, much less tacky than Sharper Image or Brookstone or something like that. That realization in the mall corroborated with something that had been floating around in my mind for a while: that if I want to get a job, I really have to be proactive about it (I’m already using the buzzwords–proactive. Shame, shame…) I have to find several places that I would really enjoy designing for, and let them know that. To that end, I applied online to Williams-Sonoma earlier. We’ll see what happens. Even if they turn me down, I’ll recontact them with an updated portfolio. I’m getting into this.

She’s in His hands now; she always has been. There’s nothing I can do now except pray and fast for her. We’ll both grow and learn and experience; it’s just that some of the ways of learning scare me, quite frankly. God holds all the cards now, as He should have from the beginning, and before. We have to remain committed to His will and in His word, and in fellowship with those who can give us sound advice and counsel (perhaps the most difficult part because of our pride). But being able to fail is what being discipled is all about, along with honesty. I will seek that out. If there’s anything I need at this point in my life, it’s wisdom, something I sorely lack.

Work at the GPC (General Placebo Center) was hectic. Being one of the days of the month when the discount card is operational, it was very busy indeed. Fortunately, I did get to talk to Ed for a few minutes. He’s my boss who recently got saved. He’s doing much better, attending Bible studies and the like, and is going to come to my church on Sunday. We’ll see how that goes. I’m looking forward to it in spite of the fact that I’ll have to get up early. It’s going to be good.

This weekend was not amazingly hot, either metaphorically or literally. The wedding was at 2 p.m. outside the white farmhouse of the groom’s family’s farm, and it was amazingly blustery. I’m sure the bride was freezing as she said her vows and faced the groom, who didn’t take his sunglasses off for the entire ceremony. Other than that it was just a ordeal of meeting relatives who hadn’t seen me since I was short (in other words, a long, long time ago).

We just vegged out and watched television afterwards in the house we were renting for the night. We made a shopping trip as well to a local grocery store for dinner. The rice-a-roni didn’t turn out nearly as well as it did this summer… I must have been doing something wrong.

I slept downstairs in my sleeping bag. The living room was so orderly and quiet, save for a very noisy cricket I had to flush around 3 a.m. I watched SNL, then went to bed. My thoughts were deafening over the silence, and it took me a long time to fall asleep, tossing and turning.

I applied for a position as a SolidWorks drafter last night via the internet. I probably won’t get it, but it doesn’t hurt to start letting places know you’re available, and besides, the whole matter is in God’s hands anyway. I’m not that picky; I lead a pretty simple life; I’m not that demanding, so I’m sure something will come along that will work out to the mutual advantage of both my future employer and me.

Comme disent les Francais, on vera.

By the way, I think the Phil Collins album “Both Sides” is a soundtrack for my life.

God is good, glory to Him for His sustaining presence. I need friends too.

I’m still quite sore from last night, my knees and feet mostly, but I took some ibuprofen, so I’ll be fine tomorrow morning, I’m sure. I really rather not attend the wedding this weekend. One could argue that it will keep my mind off this past week’s affairs, but somehow I sense the subject of the ceremony will make things more difficult instead of assuaging them.

I need to get my mind off myself. All the more reason for reestablishing friendships, and strengthening new ones. He is there, and He holds me together. I cannot get isolated. That’s the worst thing I can do.

I ran tonight.

I ran, and I ran, and I ran.

I ran ten miles tonight.

I ran until I couldn’t remember what it felt like to walk.

I ran until the only pain I felt was my body.

I ran until I couldn’t hear her voice in my head, confirming my question before I hung up the phone.

I ran until every muscle in my body cramped up.

I threw up again.

I need rest.

The throbbing is slowing receding. Very slowly… I need to put some time between me and last night. It’s hard to pray, as the thoughts keep crowding in, pushing back my devotion. I think–no, I know the only thing holding me together today was the prayerful intercession of others. I have an amazing family and group of friends. Aaron was understanding and compassionate today over dinner, something he rarely is (he has a host of other good qualities to make up for that shortcoming, though).

Snippets of songs and fleeting cloudlimbs of our romance keep floating through my mind…

I said I never, ever wanted to feel that way again, and yet here I am. The pain, while less acute last night, is longer-wearing than the last was.

I need His peace right now, His comfort. If anything, my continued capacity to function academically is a testament to His sustaining grace.

I wear a painted frown today, I walk with shifty-eyed step, slowly, a man burdened. Today, I am acquianted with sorrow. We walk side by side through the groups of laughter, every step pushing against the encroaching ground. Grief and gravity are related, I’m convinced.

So much lost, so much ripped out of my heart. So many things we’ll never do. How can I trust her again, even years down the road? I cannot see that far, and yet my heart ranges far and wide, searching for solace. The top is off-kilter, the dance out of time. A part of me is missing, gone.

Random thought of the evening: sun chips are goood. Had a good run, although I could pick up the pace a bit more. I need to get a watch so I can time myself. That would be a good incentive for progress.

Okay. Time for Matt’s little fantasy. Those of you averse to lurid mechanical details, read someone else’s entry for your own good, please. You’ve been warned :o)

You know how little kids always like talking about their favorites? I don’t think we really grow out of that, so there’s my disclaimer for the night. What would my ideal car setup be? Probably something along the lines of David Lane’s first-generation RX-7 turbo setup. He has a Cartech turbo kit that he purchased back in ’87 for the thing. An ’84 or ’85 GSL-SE would definitely be my starting point, and I would add a turbo, but that’s where the similarities would end. First off, basic engine setup. I want to retain the 6-ports for torque down low in the rpm range, but I would modify them to increase the flow, since in the existing design the air has to make a rather abrupt 90-degree turn to enter the combustion chamber from the auxiliary ports. Keeping the 6-ports would necessitate keeping the stock lower intake manifold as well, though… Hmm. In that case I’d swap in a 2nd-generation 13B with the better cooling passages and more free-flowing manifold. I’d go with the 86-88 NT engine, since the higher compression ratios of the later engines would make them more prone to detonation. I’d still extrudehone or at least flowbench the manifold in order to get the best flow rate, though. Same with the exhaust manifold. I’d like to make a custom one so that the turbine could spool up as fast as possible, and so I’d get the optimum location for the remote wastegate. I might plumb in two additional injectors to the intake manifold, but only if I really can’t up the cc enough on the stock four. I’d do away with the weird secondary throttle plate system, since I want to go with an aftermarket ECU anyway, it would just be confused. I’d have to bolt on a GSL-SE front cover for the engine to make the swap fit properly on the engine mounts. Don’t know how I’d manage oil injection. I’d keep the stock distributorless ignition; that works great, but I’d upgrade the coils and add MSD, all hooked up to the aftermarket ECU, of course. As far as that, either Haltech or Electromotive, though I don’t know if the latter makes ECUs for rotary applications. No AFM, just a straight high-flow air filter into either a Garrett T-4 or T-64 turbo. Front-mount GReddy or HKS intercooler. Multiple straight-through mufflers for the exhaust. Four-row aluminum radiator, electric fan. Relocated battery. Scramble boost controller (for additional boost when called upon), and full instrumentation, including air/fuel ratio, EGT, and, of course, a boost gauge. Three millimeter apex seals and very mild street port. Slightly elevated oil pressure running 20W-50 through a turbo oil pump. Redline oil in diff (preferrably torsen LSD) and transmission. Ground Control coil-over shocks at all four controls. All selected, installed, and tested by yours truly. Ain’t no second-rate mechanic puttin’ his dirty paws on my vehicle. Metallic blue with grey cloth interior. Sound system–whatever. The engine will be the sound system :o) I predict around 300 reliable hp at the rear wheels, which in a 2500 pound car translates to the power-to-weight ratio of a Porsche 911 Turbo. Good for 5 second 0-60 times and 12 second quarters. Yeah, that should be fast enough. That’s my wish list. Thank you for indulging me, if you’ve actually made it this far.

Okay. Enough of that. Bedtime.

Guess I should update. Uneventful around here lately, besides the usual portfolio work. Had a good, albeit busy, time this weekend. Went to see Erin play ultimate frisbee in Greenville with her college club team. They won the games they played against college teams and got clobbered by the community club teams (who have much more experience and don’t have things like exams and papers on their minds). It was fun to see her play and enjoy herself, since I know she hasn’t always enjoyed that sport in the past on all occasions. I got a nice sandal tan, with a perfectly masked strip running down the center of each foot. The rest of me didn’t get burnt, though, which was a minor miracle, being as white as I am.

It was good to see Tim again, and to meet his new girlfriend Amy, who complement each other very well in many respects, a good quality for a couple to share. I also got a tour of his house and trailer (we’ll just call them both “works in progress”) along with his array of machinery in the backyard. His Pontiac Grand Am is just asking for an engine upgrade… :o)

J’ecriverai encore dans quelques minutes.

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His overwhelming arms, they hold me
As the world reels in despair
And mixes its palate with
Varying degrees of despondency.
The Lord is my shelter
I heard that today
And my heart crawls out from under a stone
Embracing the conception of newness
Surrounded by crumbling towers of normalcy
We cling to those which fate
Has abandoned, and seek our heart’s content
Absent from the news
Reflecting voices down the long hallway
Nearer to the screen, they cry out for
Something else
If serenity witnesses the furor, let her speed
Quickly, as a flame
He is not absent in this time
The Love above all loves
collects the pieces of glass and fragments
Of concrete
Framing them into tears, which fall
Collected by the seraphim
Come quickly, Lord, to this wretched world
Whose foundations have drifted onto sand
As the crafted tendrils of our lives wrap
Themselves around.
You are neither absent nor silent,
Crafting the yearning of our hearts

Right. Yes. So. As Erin so deftly pointed out, it would have been better if those of you who were going to to attend the get-together on Sunday to comment on my entry, but seeing as how it’s buried in the back files for most of you, I think it would have been an exercise in futility for me to revise my entry. Hence, this new entry. Thus and therefore, please comment if you’ll be coming Sunday afternoon at 4 to Duke Gardens for the picnic/get-together/corporate time wasting session. Sato and Spot, it would be great if you could make it, too.

Okay, folks–for all those of you in driving distance, how about a get-together this coming Sunday (the 9th)? We could meet up mid-afternoon (4ish?) and just waste away the rest of the day together doing random and amusing things. I’m open to suggestions as far as location, but it seems Duke Gardens worked pretty well the last time the majority of us were together (Elyse’s b-day party), and in light of the wonderful weather, I think a trip to the Gardens would be well-advised. Comment if you have ideas/suggestions/comments/complaints/Mazda RX-7s/constructive criticisms to offer me.

It’s nice to be able to sleep in on Tuesdays and Thursdays for at least one semester of my college career. If nothing else it approximates what the last year of high school is supposed to be like but never is: the slack year (at least I’ve never seen anyone’s senior year turn out that way).

I dreamed I was at a Cake concert, and they were playing “Stickshifts and Safetybelts” and “The Distance,” among other tunes. I, however, was the only one in the crowd who actually knew their music and was a fan; everyone else just kind of wandered around in a semi-daze while the music played. I was jumping up and down, hooting and hollering, and even skanking to a few of their songs. Afterwards, everyone else dispersed, but I came up on stage and uttered the classic line, with arms spread wide, “I am your no.1 fan!” (which surely must have been true enough in that neck of the woods). I told them their music just made me feel cool, “like a leather trenchcoat or a pair of Doc Martens.” They horsed around for a bit while I sat and watched, then they loaded their stuff on the bus and drove off. Very surreal, the whole thing. The paradoxical bit of the whole affair is that I’m not that much of a Cake fan. Sure, I like a few of their songs, but really… Huh.

I feel better than I did last night. The viscosity of the air and my generally unkempt situation had gotten to me, but a shower, a shave, and a good night’s sleep have done wonders.

“Welcome to another day…” — Duncan Sheik

Well.

I’m a little uneasy these days. I have to get a really real job in less than five months. In a very competitive job market. While the economy slides into recession. As one of the most expendable positions in any given company: a designer.

*sigh*

God will work it all out; I know He will. I just need to translate this newfound source of motivational energy into actual work. That’s the rub. The thermodynamics of motivation: transferring passion from one area of application to another. Which, for me, translates to taking the metaphorical pot off the “car and mechanics interest” burner on my motivational stovetop and placing it on the “design, sketching, and portfolio” burner. Ah, if only it were that easy.

*congratulates himself on creating the most outlandish, convoluted metaphors to date*

More later.

The nap didn’t help much. Weird dreams, though, as they usually are during naps of any length. I don’t remember them, as usual.

Went to my younger brother David’s high school soccer game earlier this evening and experienced the social carnival that is a high school sporting event, something I was never privy to, having been home-schooled during that academic period. I think a good rebuttal of the notion that men and women are biologically similar save a few anatomical differences would be the scene at the game. The girls cluster in groups and giggle and whisper, a bit dressed up and darty-eyed; the guys posture in manly ways, and joke loudly in between hollers at the referees. In any event, they won the game 1-0 after scoring early on and holding their opponents off successfully. They really won the game in every respect, playing solid, organized, strategical soccer where the other team just poked the ball around in comparison. David has a slew of admirers in the crowd as well. The whole spectacle is entertaining to watch :o)

My dad and I discussed what to do with the (once again) defunct Taurus earlier this week, and decided that every time I fix something, I end up breaking another component in the process, and it ends up costing us more money. So rather than chance it again, we took the car to the transmission shop. It caused a bit of a dent in my pride as a mechanic, but I suppose knowing one’s limitations isn’t something that can be faulted, right? I saved myself a lot of aggavation and scraped knuckles, too. I suppose it’s all for the best. I have other battles to fight this semester.

Long days, and sore nights, and once again I find myself exhausted and the day only half gone. I’ll take a nap in a few minutes, play catch-up to my circadian rhythms yet again.

Where to begin? I’m at school, installed for the most part after the most hectic weekend and beginning of week I’ve had in recent memory. The Taurus which Elyse bought from me had major transmission difficulties at the worst possible time, i.e. last Friday when she was about to return to school with her belongings. I thus had to drive our truck to Pennsylvania, retreive her, her things, and the ailing vehicle. It was a lot of driving, made infinitely more bearable by the much-appreciated presence of my darling. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have been nearly as stubborn and inflexible as I was about the driving. The truck really wasn’t that difficult to handle; and I’m sure either of my companions would have handled things very capably. Next time, I’ll be smarter. Remind me why I do these things to myself again?

I got moved in Sunday night, very late. The room is large, albeit hot, and we’ve got a very livable room arrangement.

More to come. I started this entry without realizing how much I really need that nap.

It’s more than a bit disconcerting when a class that you need to graduate in December is canceled right under your nose for the third semester in a row. All is well, though, thanks to some administrative string pulling and copious numbers of phone calls… I just hope a course I took at UNC will transfer over and fill one of my elective slots. If so, I’ll only have 12 hours left, an attractive prospect. If nothing else, it’ll give me time to work on this portfolio thing, and nebulous entity I keep telling people I’m working on but no one has seen any evidence of yet. It does exist, however; it’s not mythological.

The Taurus is gone; Elyse took it last night. The rest of my family felt more emotional depravity from its departure than I did, though. One would think that after the hours I spent with it that I would feel some sort of attachment to it, but no, I’ve sacrificed enough blood to get it running and am just glad to see it go. Only to return this weekend… Volunteered warranties are wonderful things :o) We’ll see how it goes.

School resumes in a week. The beginning of the end. Yessss.

Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine…

New York was fun, albeit a bit stressful. We ate in Little Italy, visited the top of the World Trade center after dark, and generally got lost in downtown New York, among other things. It was enlightening to observe a family other than my own on a vacation/road trip. I think the family dynamic becomes more prominent out on the road, when your existence is a bit less comfortable than at home and everyone is trying to adjust. All in all, I had a good time with everyone, joking around with her father, throwing the frisbee with her siblings, and complimenting her mother on the grilled chicken dinner. Yum :o)

It’s good to be home, though. I have to become independent within the next six months, so I’m putting my design portfolio together in the evenings, and working on the soon-to-be-sold Taurus during the day. There’s always something else to be done, not that things break, but odds and ends that I would overlook, but a car buyer would have trouble ignoring. It got inspected today, though, a rare event for me. I came home and announced to my mom, “My mechanical prowess has been officially vindicated by the US government.” Hopefully my dad will take me a bit more seriously now (after two successful engine swaps and a host of other things, I would certainly hope so). And he does, it’s just that the two of us have different approaches to the task; he prefers to have someone tell him/show him what’s wrong and how to fix it, and I would rather do the research and diagnosis on my own, a less immediate technique, but one that avoids problems down the road when something comes up and you know from experience what’s going on.

I really need to finish Mere Christianity. I’m a slow book reader, but two months is ridiculous. That’s it; I’m finishing it tonight.

It runs. Runs well, in fact. The Taurus is completely reassembled and has been taken on a couple of shakedown errand trips. By the grace of God, all the mechanical bits are holding themselves together and rotating in their proper orbits. Not that there aren’t a couple of kinks to work out… the starter is being finicky and the speedometer doesn’t work. But ice-cold AC, good power, smooth sailing… :o) Thank you Lord. I’ll have everything worked out by the time school starts again. When that time arrives, come and get it, Elyse :o)

I even polished the rims and wiped all the grease off the fenders. Dang that’s a purty car :o) Paperweight to car for around $500 and a lot (read: LOT) of elbow grease. Anyway. I’ll stop gushing. I was just very encouraged by that event today.

In other news, I might move to Idaho in six months. Terry suggested that I could very well get a job working for Idaho Air Group, the non-profit Christian organization designing the Packer, the new type of aircraft I’m designing the passenger seats for. It’d be a temporary job, to be sure, since the first flight of the new plane is scheduled for next fall and I’d only be doing drafting and computer modeling. But it’s an idea…

Took a quality nap this afternoon, much needed. Got off work early, plopped into bed, and slept for 4 solid hours. Needless to say, I’m much refreshed (and no longer dizzy, like I was earlier today). Made some highly successful mac and cheese and headed over to the hangar. I’m driving the Datsun instead of Twinkie this week and wanted to fix the shifter which had been wobbly and notchy (in that order). I knew I needed to machine a brass bushing for the shifter mechanism, I just didn’t think I’d be able to find all the parts I needed and have it in in the car within two hours and change. The shifter is much more precise now, with a definite snick-snick-snick feel. The newfound immediacy of the controls inspired me to go for a *cough* spirited drive through the back roads around here, of which there are many. There certainly seems to be a new urgency to the onrush of power when I upshift to second and bury the throttle. The best part, though, came when I was pushing the speed limit just a tad and let up abuptly on the throttle as I passed some houses. I simultaneously saw a flash in the rear view mirror and heard a *POW* like a kid had lit off a firecracker underneath the rear bumper. It happened once again on the drive back to the apartment–hmmmm *lift throttle* POW! :o) I was grinning from ear to ear the whole time, too. I hope to be able to produce the effect with a degree of predictability–it would be a great deterrent to tailgaters.

I think I like that car.

So close… Argh. So darn close. If it weren’t a Sunday I’d have it done and started, hopefully. The Taurus’s engine is completely reassembled, it just needs another serpentine belt and 8 quarts of transmission fluid. *sigh* If I’d known, I would have gotten them at the store… Oh well. At least it’s a complete engine again. After having an empty engine bay for a while, it’s nice to have everything hooked back in its correct place again. At least I get sliver of a sense of accomplishment from that. If I could only crank it over and see if it starts after 3-odd months… But that’ll have to wait yet another week or so. I might come back early. Who knows. Only the shadow.

Also, if anyone out there acquiring a car needs a second opinion, I’m available. I’ll do my best to quash my own penchants and visualize myself from the point of view of your demographic :o)

Mmm… Cornbread. Though not nearly as tasty or sweet as Erin’s it was nice to eat, coupled with a sense of accomplishment for actually having made something that required more than two ingredients. Combine that with some peanut butter toast and red beans and rice, and you have a recipe for a full Matt.

Evan, my new cat. We’ve “adopted” one another, to stave off the lonliness, I presume. He’s the most affection-starved cat I’ve seen in a while. I’ll think I’ll take him home. Well, perhaps I should consult my parents before I make a proclamation like that.

Perhaps I will have something of any substance later.

Captain O my captain / Steer the first mate true / The men they sing a song of fear / Of ghosts of ships that sailed before

Tiredness flows through my veins like a syrup in midwinter. Something lost, something gained. I lost something this weekend, not irretrievable, and gained a peace of mind and security that would come no other way. Time will be the catalyst for our renewal, and once again, I find myself wishing for the weeks to sweep by like a nameless wind. What is this uneasiness inside me? Change, I’m convinced, as I no longer allow myself to dwell upon her image in the contexts of the past. I have a premontion of the difficult days to come, but to paraphrase a question volunteered by a trusted advisor, “What is it worth to me?” Much, more than I know or am aware of, enough to fill an ocean of time with discovery. If only the floodgates were more secure…

* * * * * *

In other news, I’m getting ambitious. I bought some actual meat and Mexican food accessories and I’m going to attempt to make burritos in a few evenings. I don’t particularly like shopping for food. I don’t need 95% of the products on the shelves, and when I do select something, there’s always that fleeting thought that I should have made sure it was the least expensive of its kind. Fabric detergent ain’t cheap, neither.

Pleasant evenings, so quiet. Just silent… Only the various machine noises around the office and the clicking of the keys to accompany me.

And emotions, bien sur.