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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.

I think I need a nap. I’m not sure, though, mind you, so I could be mistaken. Cynthia (the other volunteer here in Terry’s office) and I helped set up for our supervisor’s daughter’s wedding for most of the afternoon. The setup is going to be quite unconventional, as befits a family with so much vested creativity and technical knowledge. Amy (Terry’s daughter) and John (her fiance, obviously) are going to be married in the gym of their church, but with the walls covered with curtains and a giant cargo parachute hanging from the ceiling with strings of white lights radiating from the center. You really have to see it. I’ll see if I can’t get some pictures tomorrow. We drove up to her church, met everyone, and downed prodigious amounts of Whoppers (the malt balls, not the sandwiches) and mini Twix bars. This is really the sort of day that makes you wish for a convertible :o)

Fireworks last night got rained on, for the most part. I went to one of the standard cookouts, then migrated to a local parking lot with many others who had similar aspirations of blowing things up. We left around 11. The parking lot was a scene I’ll never forget, driving out, with the knee-high layer of smoke surrounding vast quantities of fireworks debris strewn everywhere… It was an Independence Day wasteland.

A lot of people around me are getting married soon. Amy and John on Saturday, Cynthia next month, and John’s friend Joel shortly as well. I feel rather left out. Perhaps I should do something about that. I don’t like feeling left out.

The shadow edges are crisp and razor sharp from the sunlight pouring down on the island. There is a warm breeze, intermittent, which buffets the shrubs at the summit. I reach down and run my hand through the warm, soft earth. It is red clay, dry and crumbly. I pick up a smooth stone and place it in my pocket. Rising, I look around, approach the low wall, and peer out over the vastness of the Mediterranean… And the small rise of land we stand on speaks its insignificance, as it would just disappear into the blue from a higher perspective. Capri. Sorrento. My paradise.

And the emotion… who understands the emotion? I was alone then, even under the watchful eyes of my parents. So alone to witness such a wealth of beauty. So alone to turn a corner around the boulangerie in Vence, catch a fleeting scent of moments past, and have the emotion cascade down upon me again. I can still smell the terracotta tiles baking in the sun on the roofs of the houses, and hear the cacophony of the traffic, making our way to the tabac. I can even recall the feelings of my situation in those moments, when all was well or some obscure worry hung over me.

I need to tell. I am a pulsar of memories, witness to such beauty compressed into five years in the galaxy of my mind. I was in mid-yawn yesterday evening, at the point where your consciousness starts to fade ever so slightly from the yawn before returning, and the first notes of a song played, a song I had played hundreds of times before, but this time, in the passing of that moment, I was in a hotel in Vence again, in mid-January, my face turned towards the wall in my bed, the sounds of the street below barely encroaching on the music coming from my headphones, that same song.

I can’t write about these things. I need pictures; something… just to be there with someone. I don’t know. Expression.

“I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.”

Watched Blade Runner over the weekend. In spite of some of the more gratuitous moments of the film (which are now fast-forwardable), I’d like to see it again, now that I somewhat understand what’s going on. Watching a movie you don’t understand very readily is like trying to play catch-up, piecing events and dialogue together from the beginning whilst trying to absorb the finale. But movies like that are the best ones anyway. The Usual Suspects, for example.

This past weekend was great fun. D.C. was a blast, even though I spent way too much money (unforseen expenses :o) Elyse’s hospitality was magnanimous. Going to bed early tonight. Right… Like that ever happens :o)

“We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.”

It’s a really long, slow day. Spending time with JP is fun, but taxing, since neither of us generate a whole lot of humor, it’s not as fun as it should be. After cleaning out a lawnmotor motor for a go-cart type vehicle we’re going to fabricate, I made the unfortunate discovery that we don’t have all the parts we need to reassemble it. A foray behind Ace Hardware of Waxhaw proved profitable, though, as we acquired several tires and another motor, hopefully in running condition. We were both too tired/tired of one another to investigate further, though, so we both turned in for the day. My stomach is still full from the pot of yellow rice. I eat a lot of rice. I wonder if that says anything about my ancestry, if it’s a genetic penchant. I doubt it.

If I were a stone or a planet, would I be intimately aware of gravity? Our scope as humans is so limited; we can only comment with any hint of authority on those laws of the universe with which we have a direct affiliation, those that affect us. We can speak about our motivations, tendencies, and ideals because we feel their influence on a daily basis. We can only comment about the outward actions of other entities, rocks, animals, molecules. Perhaps they have some other motivation besides that which excites the physical world; perhaps that is what dooms any attempt to utilize science to derive a “theory of everything.” It’s plausible… We cannot understand their motivations because we are not them. We can only understand what is common to man, whose emotions and motivations go so far beyond the simple mechanics of the universe; it would arrogant of us to assume that the forces which govern the remainder of the universe can be understood through observation, the same arrogance that it would be to imply that another person can be understood and predicted simply through observation of his actions. Which isn’t to suggest that rocks might have feelings, and yet… As C. S. Lewis (who I am paraphrasing) put it, there is a tacit law written in the human heart decribing how we ought to behave, influencing us… Why shouldn’t there be another force influencing the stars, unobservable but nonetheless present?

If wishes were pigeons my mind would be an opal cameo.

Goodnight.

while not completely surrendered to the drams of emotion letting you in, turnaround.
my niece is helping a man she once knew to open the doors
inside her mind. i just wish i knew
what this all meant, and somehow
to come above a simple meaning of prepositions. the selfishness aids me in realizing a plane upon which to portray my elephants, or perhaps mice with tiny suitcases. i need to know
the color of your longing.
if i did, the bleakness of this summer would not be as alone as ice fishing in juneau, wishing i had at least a crisp sheet
to pull around my shoulders. i never knew
why that ray of moonlight swung so low, but now… i can see it in my mind’s spectacles,
a scintillating fragment of perpetuity.
it always sings like a forgotten
island deep into the ocean waters, coral reefs enclosing the solace of a maiden. she may not know who i am; it doesn’t matter.
i can feel
the pressure of her longing surrounding me, and i wince from it. and suddenly the lamplight collapses, and the mist rises into the filament that used to house my hope. if illumination is the one we seek, a brighter
Light awaits us at the end of the street.

Figured I’d actually make an entry in my own journal for once, instead of living my “journal life” vicariously through commenting on others’ activities. :o)

For those of you who don’t know, I’m down in Waxhaw, NC (a little town south of Charlotte) working with JAARS (Jungle Aviation and Radio Services), helping the director of R&D, Terry Heffield, design a crashworthy passenger seat for a new type of aircraft. It’s slow work most of the time with Terry being so busy, but every once in a while I’ll have a flash of insight (which I can only attribute to a higher Source) and come up with a halfway decent idea for a new part of the seat. I’ll post the latest iteration of the seat up here eventually, I suppose (in Mattspeak = in three weeks :o) Just kidding)

In the meantime, I got happy with the hangar’s digital camera. Enjoy:

This is my office. Well, not really mine. It’s where I am most of the time, though. Terry let me have the desk over to the left. It has a schematic of another seat design above it, and I sit in the green chair. Terry’s desk is the one with the computer and the blue chair. The office is on the second floor, right underneath the sloping roof of the hangar, so it would get pretty warm except for the AC in the wall and the fan going all the time. We listen to a Christian station on the radio, too. There’s a computer on the other side of the partition, which is the one I use. It belongs to a man who helps Terry out but only comes in to work on Mondays (he’s retired or something, apparently). So I pretty much have free reign on the computer. I’ll be teaching myself SolidWorks (an engineering modeling program) pretty soon here. There are bunches of sketches on my desk, and a large bookshelf filled with engineering references to the left.

Here is the front half of the hangar. The next picture shows the back half, since it was too big to get in one shot. I’m looking out kind of a door-sized opening facing the door of the office. At night the King Air (the largest and most expensive plane JAARS owns) sits in the open area in the middle there. The plane on the right is a Cessna 310, a plane donated to JAARS that they’re touching up and repairing so they can resell it for around $45K.

The other half of the hangar. The bins on the wall hold little parts, like nuts and bolts. The floatplane hanging from the ceiling was one of JAARS’ first aircraft. It’s a museum piece now, I guess. Evidently it has quite an illustrious history, which I’ll have to inquire about sometime. The plane in the back is a Helio Courier that they’re overhauling. It’s quite
disassembled.

The break room. Not a bad place to relax. There’s a TV and VCR (neither of which work very well), microwave, fridge, etc… Lots of very nice airplane magazines on the wall, too. This is where we have devotion in the morning. There’s a customer waiting area through a door to the left for people who are chartering flights.

The snack area. This is along a wall of the hangar. 35 cents for a pepsi and 30 cents for a munchie ain’t bad. I make frequent use of both these machines, since for some reason (metabolism?) I just can’t go 3-4 hour without eating something.

This Cessna 206 is essentially in better-than-new condition. Completely rebuilt and overhauled by JAARS, it’s absolutely beautiful to behold. Immaculate paint, perfect interior, upgraded instrumentation, etc… JP (another college-age volunteer) and I drool over it whenever we get the chance. They’re still breaking in the engine before they pack it up and ship it overseas (I’m not sure where).

Another shot of the pretty airplane. I closed the door to emphasize the sleek lines :o)

Here’s another view of the 206. They wheeled it out of the hangar to do some engine and avionics tests.

The biggest plane in the JAARS fleet–the Beech King Air. Uses turboprops instead of piston engines. It’s a big plane–I can barely touch the tip of the tailplane standing on my tiptoes. The whistle and whine when it starts up is something else :o)

Here’s the cabin . Notice the JAARS safety brochures in the backs of the seats.

The instrument cluster/cockpit. Isn’t that beautiful? And to think that to operate this aircraft right you have to be well-versed on the operation of every one of those. :o) I can just see myself at the controls…

A Piper Aztec. They mainly use this one to transport people, since the cargo space is so limited.

Here is the tarmac, or apron. There are usually more airplanes than this parked out there. Must have been a slow day. That’s another 206, with a Helio Courier parked behind it. The runway is behind them.

Speaking of the runway, here’s a better shot of it. More hangars, too.

This is the Helio Courier, the airplanes that JAARS’ reputation is based on more than any other. They operate about 20 of these at any one time. Designed back in the late 60’s by a team of MIT grads, it has bizarre short takeoff and landing capabilities. The long landing gear allow for a larger propeller, and the huge wing has many slats and flaps which increase its area by about a third for low-speed operations. It can take off and land within a few hundred feet. This airplane is registered to Peru for South American operations.

“Ol’ No.1” in the hangar. It went looking for cows yesterday. Apparently a cowboy/farmer down in SC “misplaced” his cows, and the aircraft spent most of the day before yesterday scouring the countryside for them. Don’t ask, I don’t know any more than that… :o)

Here’s the existing design for a crew (pilot and copilot) seat. You can see the s-shaped tubes in the front which deform on impact, and the area in the back which crushes. There’s a trapezoidal linkage on the bottom for adjusting the seat height. This seat protected a dummy in 30G crash tests from excessive loads on his spinal column. It’s a crew seat so it’s a lot more adjustable than the passenger seats.

A detail of the bottom.

Making the passenger seats. They’re a lot simpler than the crew seats and fold up much more compact. They attach to the racks running the length of the cabin. To fold up, the legs swing up under and the top folds down, making a pretty compact package.

A very large vacuforming machine used to make replacement and upgrade fiberglass and polymer parts (like fillets and fairings for blending the wing and the wing brace, etc…)

My supervisor, Terry Heffield. A great man with a lot of creative spirit. He used to be a missionary pilot but basically decided it was a “glorified taxi service” (his words). He’s the head of R&D at JAARS now. Quite a hands-on man, he loves to make stuff. I’ve heard quite a few stories.

Here’s JP. He’s even taller than me (about 6’6) and rather larger, too. He drives a ’75 Ford Gran Torino with 62K on it–a stylin’ car :o) He’s from somewhere in southeastern Wisconsin and just finished his first year at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. Great guy.

Wes, another volunteer. Looks high school-age, but I’m not sure. He’s a cut-up, a jokester, and fun to be around. He’s sewing a cargo net together. The reason the picture is so cropped is that I had my finger in front of the lens.

Hope y’all find that little expose edifying in some small way. More to come…

I’m a-goin’. June 12th, to be precise, downto Charlotte (well, just south of the city, actually, in Waxhaw) to volunteer at JAARS until August 1st. I’m excited about it; not only does it provide me with a lot of contacts in the field of missionary aviation, it also has industrial design (my major) clout. I’ll try to keep y’all more updated once I arrive there; chances are I won’t be doing much after-hours. I’ll be rooming with a college-age guy working in the computer department down there. I’m sure he’ll be horrified to discover my preference as far as platforms are concerned. :o)

It turns out the engine-removal epic last Monday was more of a pyrrhic victory, as my dad and I managed to snap one of the input shafts for the transmission in the process (read: very bad). I will thus be removing the transmission tomorrow… *sigh* Those of you who know me might think I’m having the time of my life with this car, but in reality it’s not all fun and games; it certainly wasn’t last Monday after 7 hours under the hood. It’s not an easy engine to remove (read: American), it’s not a fast car, and the engine is just plain ugly. So what keeps me going? The sense of accomplishment I get when the engine is sitting on the floor of the garage, and the expectation of the feeling I will get when the engine starts and delivers power to the wheels again (and the A/C works). The expertise gained in the process plays a part too, but the emotional and visceral appeal of the endeavor is what stands first in my mind and motivations.

My family will be making a trip of its own up to College Park, Maryland, on Saturday for the Odyssey of the Mind World Finals, in which my brother is competing for the fourth year in a row.

That car’s engine was designed by the antichrist. You won’t convince me otherwise. After 7 hours, countless scraped knuckles, a slight sunburn, and being covered with grease pretty much from head to foot, the bad engine is out of the car. Not that it didn’t make every conceivable effort to remain in the vehicle, however. I mean, gosh, where do I start? Long story short, it was an epic battle, and I do mean battle, but the task is complete. Well, half complete. The other engine awaits installation, in the back of the truck. Putting it back in is always easier, though (well, it was last year… but taking it out was infinitely easier too), no sticky bolts or unfamiliarity with the engine bay. *sigh* I have a slight feeling I should buy stock in the Bandaid company before I go out tomorrow… Weird, huh?

Watched a good documentary on General Douglas MacArthur before I had to wash dishes this evening. Was interesting to hear about his occupation of Japan after the war and the programs he implemented, the social and political reforms he carried out. It’s not something I remember reading in my history books in high school. Come to think of it, I miss history. Well, somewhat. I like it when I can identify with a particular personality in a specific period, their actions and the shape of their life and words. Something about being able to view their life in retrospect gives them a larger-than-life image… I idealized a lot of historical figures during my high school years; I probably still would if were studying the subject. Perhaps that’s a cause or a symptom of my own idealism when relating to others, I don’t know.

The days are speeding up… I hadn’t realized it last week since I was so busy, but now I see they are indeed. I hope Tim is doing okay. I wish I was able to talk some sense into him during our time together as roommates this year, but what he needs I can’t give him. That’s another reason I didn’t want him to return to Greenville: It’s a familiar environment for him, which will only make it easier for him to remain stagnant in his old habits. I want to go visit him at least once this summer… The chemistry we had this year was no fluke; he is a good friend, and I enjoy his company.

The wide text fields I get while updating LJ on the PC might be its only redeeming quality. Though, I will volunteer, I’ve not been overly pleased with my mac of late either.

Unpacking today I came across an old journal. Inside I had scribbled a list of habits I wanted to start and habits I wanted to break. Under habits to break, the last entry was “neglecting friendships,” but it was written in such a way that it looked for all the world like “neglecting friends’ hips.”

*sigh*

I need a nap.

So far, so good. Due in no small part to the overwhelming generosity of my professor, I’m getting a B+ in studio. That’s a load off my mind, thank the Lord… If only I knew what was going on with me this summer. My portfolio must be assembled to at least a rudimentary degree; I’m determined. Then I can start hawking it ’round…

I finally discovered what was going wrong with my monitor. Turns out overheating was causing it to flicker on and off annoyingly. I turned the fan on it and it was stable for as long as I needed it for; previously it had begun to flicker after an hour or so, quite disconcerting. I’m conjecturing that dust accumulation inside the plastic shell is hampering its cooling efficiency. I’ll clean it out this summer.

It’s turning into a full-fledged addiction. I’m beginning to think I’m well-nigh obsessed. Yesterday, walking out to my car (Twinkie) in the parking lot, I had this insane urge to pop the hood, get a couple of floodlights, and tear down half of the engine. For no good reason. I think I’m just unstable when it comes to mechanical issues. In more positive news, one of our cars is well on its way to being restored to operational status after suffering a warped head (serious condition requiring a pretty thorough overhaul). Called the friendly folks at Carquest today ordered the parts I need. The car should be back on the road in a few weeks or so… We’ll see.

i wish the world a million times over
to be full of gigantic elephants
and perhaps nine fire hydrants–this
would be splendid
didst see my tempest of the type?
that shall haply inhabit this wit
of telephony–
why if this simple syllogism around again
through the hoops of words i trip
on the plastic stops and
forever dreaming forever
it’s not as hard as youandi think
as we ponder into stone
our actions and
tenets touching a round thing:
perhaps it is metal and perhaps not
what and wherefore and why
is that redundant?
i don’t know/yes i know
no/yes
consanguinious
my pride is crashed and crushed
underneath the airplane of my calamity
it’s wing to be
they shall fly anon, sir
if that thy will shouldst serve
the slats will fall and water shall
cave under a neige
d’etoiles, twinkling
above the always subject
come off it, you are better than this
you and i both know
come back

This is rather entertaining. As long as you don’t take yourself or the Bard too seriously, that is. :o) There. I’ve done the world good by sharing that. I’ll cross that off the list for today…

Awake and alive. Two entries in one day, my my, aren’t you all getting spoiled :o) It’s drizzling outside again. There’s a bed of shrubs right outside my window; it’s rather entertaining to see the leaves randomly twitch as they get hit by falling raindrops. Simple minds, simple pleasures… *sigh* At least the rain washes all the allergens from the atmosphere for a while.

Should I be this calm with less than three weeks left in the semester? Probably not. Whatever the case, I’ll get it done, by sheer force of will if nothing else. Looks like I might be coming up on my semesterly all-nighter pretty soon.

And then I realized that I really don’t have the paper I need in order to do the sketches I want to do… *sigh* Guess I’ll have to get up early tomorrow and snap to it.

After four hours of sleep last night, the extent of my salemanship this evening at GNC was, “This is good for you. Buy it,” and so on… Whereas Brian can talk anyone’s head off about any product for 15 minutes or more, I can barely point people to the correct place in the store for most of the items. ‘Course, he’s been there for 4 years, but I still think after 2 months I should be able to give a good speech about at least a few products. Enough comparing, though.

When the light of the shaded lamp slides around her cheek just right, her eyes glow with the beauty they focus and magnify.

“But ’tis that miracle and queen of gems
That nature pranks her in, attracts my soul…”

“Swim like lions through the crest and bathe yourself in zebra flesh…”

The air is never more a friend, a material thing, than on days like this. Note to self: I should send the Elysium something before she comes back. Yeah…

…watched a production of Twelfth Night on video earlier this evening, wading through memories of perfoming it in high school. I still remember most of my lines (I was Orsino) and mouthed them at the more significant junctures in the play.

“like lucrece knife with bloodless stroke my heart doth gore…”

I miss acting. We only did one performance of it, too, which I regret, since I don’t feel I had the opportunity to really work the kinks out of my character… Not that I was professional enough to pull off a decent performance anyway, but I do wish I could have given it another shot.

“I was adored once too…”

Went down to JAARS today. It’s a missionary aviation complex just south of Charlotte where they refurbish and maintain the aircraft that fly in mission fields around the world. I’m helping them design a crash-worthy seat for a new model of aircraft, an endeavor also doubling as the last project of my semester in design studio. It’s rather nice it that respect, as it’s an organization I would most like to affiliate myself with eventually. I ended up talking with the head mechanic for a couple of hours about the project and other things… We just talked grease and pistons for the last half hour… It was great.

What isn’t so great is the drive down there… After a 3-mile run a few minutes ago, my legs are hurting more than normal. I guess that’s what I get for driving a small car (and no, that’s not a thinly-veiled desire for a bigger car; just a faster one). In any case, 6 hours of driving is no fun, especially without cruise control. I left from Chapel Hill around 9, expecting to arrive in Waxhaw (the town where JAARS is based) around 11:30 or so… The catch was, I couldn’t keep my eyes open, having gone to sleep late the previous night. Preferring to be late over dead, I pulled into a gas station and slept for a few minutes before continuing on. I had the most unnerving dreams, though, repeatedly. I reclined the seat in the car and fell asleep, and dreamed several times that I woke up slowly, put my hands on the steering wheel, started the car, and drove off. Thing was, every time I would get so far down the road, I would realize I was dreaming, and “wake up,” peeling another layer off my real dream. These sequences were uncannily realistic, too. The final time, I actually made it onto the highway, and Paul (my younger brother) was in the car for some reason. The car broke down and wouldn’t start, though, so I popped the hood and examined the battery and fuel pump, all in great detail in my dream… After I really woke up, I could only hope it wasn’t a premonitory dream, realistic as it was. All went well, though.