The Tree, The Sea, The Music and The Flowers

It's not music, or trees, or water, but it's close.

2006-12-06T22:27:00.000-06:00

I was flipping through the Silmarillion the other day looking for that beautiful passage about music, when something caught my eye. It was in the Preface which was unusual because I normally never read those. It was Tolkien talking about what he intended elvin “magic” to really be. Now I’ve always wondered were their power came from, because it would reveal a lot about Tolkien’s worldview. Did it come from the Valar? If for instance the elvin power of magic came from the earth it could indicate that he was into the New Age etc… Tolkien said that the elvin “magic” was actually Art, “delivered from many of it’s human limitations: more effortless, more quick, more complete (product, and visions in unflawed correspondence). And it’s object is Art not Power, sub-creation not domination.”
That was a really interesting to me. It also explained another question I had about elvin “incantations or spells” because language and the spoken word is also Art.
Also I really admire the cleverness of it. If Tolkien had let elvin “magic” be something mystical, and strange, like most fantasy writers do, in my opinion, it would have been less potent to the reader, (if that makes any sense). In other words having the elvin “magic” (and I only use that word for lack of one more fitting) be something that the readers are familiar with, Art, lends the tale more believability, and draws you further in. It allows your imagination to play with the idea of what you would do with the power of unrestricted Art. Personally I can envision all the captivating word pictures that I could call from the abstract to the concrete if that was the case.
Anyway just another reason I love Tolkien.

2006-12-06T16:33:00.000-06:00

At one point, I was going to write a brilliant post on ten things that would run through my mind as I lay dying, but it turned out that they were pretty much what you would expect, so I didn’t finish.

I did, however, read something cool in the Silmarillion today which I might post about a little later.

Other than that nothing really interesting is going on. Just school and working on college stuff.

I did decide what I shall come to the costume party (which I’m really looking forward to) as, but I don’t think I’m gonna come right out and say what it is. I mean where is the fun in that. And any of you who know better not say anything either.

2006-11-02T22:33:00.000-06:00

Here is the tree I was talking about.

2006-11-02T22:31:00.000-06:00

Did I ever mention we have a lot of cool trees at my house? Here also is a picture of our pound covered with some kind of algae stuff. I must confess I did enhance the colors slightly on this one, but I think it looks better that way.

2006-11-01T14:47:00.000-06:00

It's time for another tree picture.

2006-10-29T21:07:00.000-06:00

The sun was just beginning to rise sleepily from his bed beyond the eastern horizon as a lone figure, hooded and cloaked, made his way along the road to the river. No crowds marked his passing or strewed flowers in his path. The mist that had risen from the ground in the night as ghosts from a graveyard had turned the world to grey. The world was grey, it was old, old like the figure who made his way silently toward the river. The eyes that looked out from beneath his blue hood were deep and full of memory. Steadily he kept on toward the river. How many times had he come this way? Before him the river flowed as it had flowed for centuries always the same always changing. A boat waited for him; a small boat with only one sail.

The sun had shaken off the shadows of slumber and turned the river into liquid gold with its rays of fierce light. Fishermen on the river’s banks preparing their nets, and women washing their household’s clothing looked up in surprise as a boat of fantastic description sailed toward them. White was it’s sail and timbers and it’s prow was the exact likeness of a swan, proud, gliding serenely upon the gilded waves. Only one figure was to be seen standing at the stern, with one hand on the tiller. The hood of his blue cloak was thrown back and the silver locks that cascaded down upon his shoulders glinted in the sun. The villagers rubbed their eyes in amazement for a sight so strange they had never seen. His face was like to the kings of old, of which the aged still spoke with awe, though long ago they had faded away into legend. None spoke, wary lest they should break the spell and this vision should vanish. Swiftly the swanlike boat left them behind gazing after it and it’s magnificent passenger. And it seemed when the wake of the ship died away that the rays of the sun had lost their warmth and that the colors that had only a moment before been vibrant were faded and the world took on a grayish hue. Into the hearts of the watchers crept a shrouded sadness, unbidden and unexplained and it could not be assuaged

The sun was sinking beneath the western rim of the world. No eyes were there to see the swanly ship slip from the hands of the river into the welcoming arms of the sea. A song was on the sea breeze, though none were there to hear it, and if they had they would have marked it only as the mournful cadence of the waves upon the sand, but it was not. Legontis TuCelebor cast one last look over his shoulder at the friends that slept the last sleep, the victorious battlefields, the hills, the lakes, and all the memories of long ages. Then he set his face to the west and looked no more upon the sorrowing shores of the dying lands but only to the joy that was before him.

So passed the last Elf out of mortal realms and mortal memory, a silent omen of the woeful times that many years afterward befell.

2006-10-29T07:49:00.000-06:00

2006-10-10T08:27:00.000-05:00

The stars, who have made deep and strange music from the beginning, gazed down from their glittering heights upon the world of men. The Earth slumbered peacefully, wrapped in the warm cloak of a summer’s eve against the chill of the universe. Far away from the buzzing of civilization that never ceases even when all other things sleep, a group of mortals returned the gaze of the heavenly bodies. They shivered slightly in the cool breezes that flit, like disembodied spirits, amongst the rocks in higher climes.

It was the last day. The last day before they would all go back to that humming hive of humanity to pursue their own courses. For some it was also the ending of an old age and the beginning of a new. The paths they would take would lead away from the friends gathered round them. Despite the imminent end of their fellowship, their spirits were high and like crystal cold water from a pure spring it bubbled forth in music. A wise man has said that “there are some things that simply cannot be said with words, and that’s why there is music.” and he spoke truly. The full hearts of the group of friends found utterance in the language of music when none other would suffice. They sang ancient melodies with words of faith, and newer hymns with words of grace. Awakened by the sound, the rugged hills echoed back each phrase and the wind took up the harmony and with the beat kept pace. The music swirled around them tangible to all their senses. It was like to that deep and strange music which the wanderers of the pathless sky have made since they first shown forth in their brilliance. Yet it was unlike, as the music of the human singer is different from the music of the song bird . The difference is in the reason for the song, but not in the tune.

At last the singing faded not in the sorrowful silence of loss, but rather, in the contented silence of peace. The singers sighed and stood for a moment, each absorbed with his own thoughts. Then they crawled into their beds and fell asleep to the faint notes of that deep and strange music unfaltering since the kindling of the stars.

2006-10-09T21:23:00.000-05:00

Oh yes and I forgot to mention that we took a little detour along the borders of Lothlorien.

2006-10-08T18:39:00.000-05:00

So we started the campout off with a bang.

2006-10-08T18:37:00.000-05:00

Isn't it red and yellow kill a fellow?

2006-10-08T18:35:00.000-05:00

We hiked a lot.

2006-10-08T18:32:00.000-05:00

Some of the bridges were a little messed up.

2006-10-08T18:29:00.000-05:00

I like the name Ophelia.

2006-10-08T18:28:00.000-05:00

A tomb stone.

2006-10-08T18:26:00.000-05:00

We camped by Jones cemetary.

2006-10-08T18:23:00.000-05:00

We "relaxed" in the tents.

2006-10-08T18:22:00.000-05:00

We had a dirt cloud war.

2006-10-04T21:44:00.000-05:00

Hey, if ya’ll want to read a really good (in my opinion anyway) short work of fiction go here by my friend the Axegrinder go here.

poboymuse.blogspot.com/2006/09/safe-line.html

2006-10-04T21:13:00.000-05:00

The Tree in September

2006-10-04T21:11:00.000-05:00

June

2006-10-04T21:10:00.000-05:00

March

2006-10-04T21:09:00.000-05:00

The Tree in March, June, September and October.

2006-09-27T22:06:00.000-05:00

The shy buds.

2006-09-27T21:58:00.000-05:00

Here is the elvin version of that picture.

2006-09-26T15:30:00.000-05:00

More flowers.

Wilderness Survival

2006-09-20T20:55:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you about Wilderness Survival campouts……they certainly must be among the top ten campouts.

First we arrived at our campground, unpacked and started to build our shelters for the night. They could be made completely out of natural materials or using a tarp. The age of the person building the shelter tends to have a lot to do with the materials used, if you know what I mean. Evan and I glommed onto the Trailblazers’ patrol. We picked out our spot in a dense stand of young pines far away from the main campsite. It was perfect. We put up a tarp, put out our gear and waited for the fun to start. Before “bedtime”, the guys played capture the flag several times which, for the most part, resembled the Cold War with the creek being the Berlin Wall with guards on both sides.

Then it was time to go to “bed” and that is where the fun began. Generally we have the tradition of scaring ourselves out of our minds by telling frightening stories.

This tradition began long ago on the second wilderness survival campout I went on. It was incredibly humid and the mosquitoes were ferocious, driven into a frenzy by the Catfish Charlie blood bait smeared on everyone’s shelters. No one could sleep and it just so happened that they all gathered at a central location which happened to be Evan’s and my hut. There, to relieve the boredom through the long watches of the night, we started talking about scary things. The more terrified we got, the closer we huddled together. In the end, there were about seven guys huddled under what was supposed to be a two man shelter. About every ten minutes, someone would say, “Did you hear that?!!” and instantly the surrounding woods would be lit up with seven flashlight beams.

This campout was no different, except that we added something new. After several hours of scaring ourselves, we decided to get out my cloak and camera and see what we could get into. We took some pictures and videos and it turned out pretty good. We were less petrified when we went back to our shelter.

I say “we” were less scared, but actually, Evan wasn’t scared at all because he knew that all the noises were just made by rhinos. After awhile, which would have made it about 3:00 am Aarin started hallucinating that there were people dressed in white robes moving in the shadows. So we would charge randomly into the brush brandishing sticks to frighten them off. By that time, some of us (mainly me) were starting to drift off to sleep.

This post is becoming as long as the night seemed to be so I will shorten it. The next day was filled with orienteering and exploring the woods and slaying orcs. Also, Aarin and I, who were trying to catch up on some sleep on the dock, got caught in the crossfire of a cattail war in which I was suspiciously hit by Jesse who just happened to aim where there were only non-combatants!

In summary, it was a great campout with lots of camaraderie and all that good stuff.

2006-09-10T19:25:00.000-05:00

An elvin flower that bloomed in the noontide Valinor, bathed in the light of Telperion and Laurelin.

2006-09-09T00:13:00.000-05:00

This has got to be the most gorgeous picture I have ever taken with my camera!

I'm not sure what to title this.

2006-09-06T21:26:00.000-05:00

As bad as it is to go shopping with women, it is ten times worse to go shopping without them!

I just came up with that today. What precipitated this contemplation you might ask? The explanation is simple. You see, today I had to go shopping without them. Due to happy forgetfulness, I left my pair of dress shoes along with my tennis shoes at PHC. (There seems to be a rash of shoe related forgetfulness going around.) Anyway, I had to have a pair of dress shoes by Friday, and since we weren’t coming to town Thursday, I had to get them today. Thus it was, that after class, I made my way to the mall, the most hated destination of all by the male gender.

I’m sure I looked like a lost or abandoned puppy because I felt like one. What would I do, alone and scared in that bastion of female dominion? How would I find what I needed? Malls are not designed for men to find things; there were no maps or signs to point me to the shoe section. They expected that I would use intuition to find what I needed. Just another evidence of the female domination in that jurisdiction. So I wandered around trying to look like I knew where I was going and what I was doing until I stumbled upon what I was looking for. I sorted through the shoes, but everywhere I went, either they didn’t have the right size, or the price wasn‘t right, or the style was just ugly. Why don’t malls have what you need at the price you need it?? I’m not sure, but I knew one place that would have what I was looking for at a price I could afford. That’s right, WAL-MART!!!! It would have saved time if I had followed my Gut Instinct to begin with and gone there in the first place. Sure enough they had just what I was looking for. A toast to Wal-Mart everyone, the bipartisan haven of consumerdom, where men and women can shop side by side in equality!

But I have strayed from my topic and I must explain my muse before I close. It is unbearable to go shopping with women. They take forever to make up their minds! They ask your opinion a million times….about the same article of clothing!!!!!! They forget what they came to buy and decide to do a blanket search of all the stores until they remember what it is. Shopping in the mall without them, however, is ten times worse. It’s like not having an interpreter or guide in a foreign country. We must face it, we don’t speak Mallinieze. Plus they keep all the helpful mall assistant people away. For example.

Assistant. “Hi! can I help you today?”

(I think)“No I don’t want help, I’m not asking for directions, I already called my mom to find out where the shoe section is in JC Penny’s”

( but good manners constrain me to say)

“Yeah I’m looking for some dress shoes”

Assistant. Ok there at the back of the store etc etc blah blah…….

(I say) “Thanks!”
(I think) “Run away, run away quickly before they want to be more helpful”

In the end I learned a valuable lesson; unless your shopping at Wal-Mart bring a guide along.

Why I haven't been blogging.

2006-09-02T12:33:00.000-05:00

I think I’m going through one of those deserts that you sometimes run into in the blogosphere. You know where you can’t find anything to post about. Now what you want most in a desert is water. So logically my mind went to thoughts of water. And of course thinking about water leads my mind to contemplating music. Because the two are very similar. So here we are in a blogging desert and once again I have come back to talking about what I always talk about when I can think of nothing else brilliant to speak of.

But don’t worry I won’t actually talk about music or water I just thought I would give you a little insight into the workings of my mind.

I have an idea for another historical fiction, but this one is more recent and involves the very land we live on. More later.

2006-09-01T22:47:00.000-05:00

I don't know why it posted that other one twice. I think this is my favorite.

2006-09-01T22:45:00.000-05:00

It's amazing what you can do with a digital camera.

2006-09-01T22:43:00.000-05:00

The sky was so pretty!

2006-09-01T22:40:00.000-05:00

Here are a couple pictures of a sunset that I took recently and a random picture of a Praying Mantis.

Hastings

2006-08-12T14:43:00.000-05:00

Here is another one of my favorites out of the musty archives. A little foray into historical fiction with a slight surprise at the end.

Soon, the sun would lift his flaming head above the rim of the world, but for now the world was grey, enshrouded in fog.
Enshrouded… shroud… burial…death, how easy it is, the young man thought, to switch from the pleasant subject of an early morning to that of sobering death. Morning…mourn…funeral…death…there went his mind again.
In front of him, the ground rose, culminating in a steep ridge. How many, wondered the solitary soldier, would surmount its height only to be cut down. From behind, he heard the distant braying of trumpets marshalling troops to war and closer at hand, a voice was calling his name, “Thomas, Thomas”

The sun beat down upon his head. Although it was October, the heat was stifling. His face was sweaty; his shoulder length brown hair clung to his head. He was scarcely able to move his arm; his bloody hand stuck to his sword handle. He could feel his lungs straining for oxygen. His mouth was dry and his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth. How peaceful this ridge had looked to him only a few hours before. Now the ground was littered with the dead and dying. He shuddered at the thought that many times he had nearly joined the ranks of the fallen, and the day was long from over. Around him soldiers were reforming for yet another deadly charge.

Together they surged up the hill toward the enemy. As the two lines met, the noise was deafening: the screams of the wounded, the clash of sword and battle ax, the shouts of men engaged in mortal combat, and far above the cries of carrion fowl.

Time seemed to slow and every moment became an individual image imprinted forever on his mind: the blank stare from the face of a corpse, the anguish on the face of a dying friend, the grass turned red by blood.

He pressed forward with his brothers in arms struggling to reach the shield wall of the enemy. Scrambling over the barricade of tree trunks and the bodies of friends and foes alike, they ran to meet their fate.

He gritted his teeth and willed his limbs to move. Ducking under a swing from an axe, he drove his sword through an enemy’s gut. He was determined. He would not die here. Not if he had any say in the matter. Sidestepping a blow from a mace, he struck off another assailant’s arm. Whack… His sight blurred. An excruciating pain on the back of his steel clad head knocked him to his knees. He rolled over onto his back. The eyes that met his own were blue. The hair was blond. The face was young. Not quite what he had expected the person who brought his demise to look like. He had always just assumed Death would have red eyes and black hair and be cloaked in black with a scythe in his hand. From a distance, he heard his own voice shouting the battle cry of the army, “God help us.” With all his strength, Thomas lunged to the side, but even as the stroke fell, the fire in the eyes of his executioner dulled and went out, and he slumped to the ground with an arrow in his back. Thomas leapt to his feet and threw himself back into the fray.

The sun had gone down in the west, soaking the sky in crimson to match the color of the ground. Thomas stooped to close the eyes of a dead comrade. How had he managed to survive that day’s battle? Surely the hand of God had held him that day.

The war did not last long after that decisive battle. Soon it was over and the Duke was crowned king. Afterwards, Thomas along with many others were given fiefdoms for their part in the war.

“And that, little Thomas is the tale of your ancestor, Thomas Sutton at the battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066 AD, in whose honor we named you. He became an earl or something and married, and had many children and grand children and lived happily ever after. Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

“Daddy, how come my last name is Jones and not Sutton?

“Because Sutton is your great grandmother’s maiden name.”

The Life Clock.... Its still ticking.

2006-08-06T10:10:00.000-05:00

Here is a post from the past. I repost some of my best stuff every so often so that people new to my blog can read it with out having to search for it. So here is the Life Clock.

Ever wonder how many hours, minutes, and seconds you’ve lived? Well, wonder no more!

Introducing; Time of Your Life ‘s new Life clock! Combining cutting edge technology with classic design, the Life clock counts down the time you have left to live (based on the average life expectancy).

The hyperbolic crystal, lithium tainted batteries that power the Life clock, come with a lifetime guarantee! If they don’t die when you do, send them back for a full refund!

The Life clock makes a great coffee table curio that is sure to be the envy of all your friends. It is also the perfect anniversary gift! You and that special someone can sit and watch your moments together tick off!

Order now at 1-800-Life Clock

But wait! If you order in the next five minutes, well include another Life Clock for free! That’s a value of $40 for just $19.95!!!

Get your Life Clock today, before anymore of your life ticks away!!!!!

The Life Clock is not for everyone. Do not use the Life Clock if you are on anti-depressants, or illegal substances. See your Psychiatrist immediately if you begin to experience feelings of depression or contemplate suicide. In a clinical study, some patients became addicted to watching the clock.

Steff, Aarin, and I came up with this idea on our way to the phone bank before last. Steffen said it would be cool to know how many hours you had left to live, I came up with the infomercial, and Aarin did something got the whole conversation started in the first place, I think.

Cada

Another Story

2006-08-05T19:04:00.000-05:00

Ha! I remembered I funny story.

Recall how I said that on top of cleaning our rooms till they were spotless we also left gifts for the room inspectors? Well those gifts included poetry. The guys of the NRO wrote poetry for the female dorm inspector and the girls of the NRO wrote letters to the male dorm inspector. In those letters they compared him to the Greek gods of old and found them to pale in comparison to his mighty personage. But I did not right them so that is all I know about them. Now the poetry for the female inspector, Dominique, was composed by Kevin, Craig and I. Ya’ll would have died laughing if you could have seen us. Pacing our room at 10:00 pm composing poetry in our pajamas. I think the result was pretty impressive, but I will let you decide.

Here is the first one we composed…..

For hours on end, we struggled and slaved this sonnet to refine,
But the words to describe your beauty eluded our searching minds.
For who can catch in mortal words, the beauty of wind and sun.
To enshrine it in earthly tongues of men, we cannot, there are none.

And the second one went like this……

More sonnets to your beauty we tried to write anew,
But performing the impossible was more than we could do.
For we are but unlearned men, who on your beauty gaze.
Having only eyes to see, we lack the tongues to praise.

Now envision us composing this. With each successful verse our enthusiasm grew. We tackled tough tongue twisters! We rejected watery rhymes! We tested rhythms! We pondered!

These verses Craig etched in beautiful calligraphy on snow white notebook paper which we then sent over to the girls dorm; to be left in their rooms for Dominique.

Yeah……..that was a pretty memorable part of the week. It was certainly time well spent because we figure we can recycle and reuse the poems later on any potential spouses. It’s kind of like killing to birds with one stone.

A couple stories

2006-08-04T21:20:00.000-05:00

I promised some stories from our trip and I should probably deliver. So here in no particular order are some stories from our trip.
When we arrived in Philadelphia, after leaving SI camp……….To make this more interesting let’s play Good news Bad news.

Story Two

Good news - We found our hotel.

Bad news - It was in the heart of down town.

Good news - It had it’s own parking garage.

Bad news- We couldn’t fit under it cause we had a big luggage carrier on top of the Suburban.

Bad news - (Yeah I know it’s supposed to be good news but there wasn’t any for a while.) We
needed to take of the luggage carrier.

More Bad news - We would have to pay twenty bucks to park for five minutes just to take it off. (greedy northerners)

Still more Bad news - When we pulled in to the little driveway in front of the hotel to jump out and go ask the staff for suggestions, an extremely impatient middle eastern man pulled in behind us.

Bad News - He started going berserk in his car!

Bad news- He was in the way so we had trouble backing out.

Bad News- I had to get out walk to the back of the vehicle, with Mohamed foaming at the mouth, and help Mrs. Karaki back out onto the street.

Good news- I restrained myself from trying my hand at sign language, and also from jumping on the hood of his car and bashing in his windshield. I did spit in his general direction though, just to show my disgust. Can anyone say parking garage rage

Good news - We got out of Mohamed’s way before his head exploded.

Bad news- the Carrier was still on top of the car.

Good news- (To make a long story short) We got the carrier off, got in the parking garage, and made it to our room safely and closed the door behind us.

Thus was our introduction to the City of Brotherly Love

Story Two
I tell you, I didn’t feel safe in that city.

So, unsatisfied with the protection that could be afforded by the inch and a half blade on my little pocket knife, I acquired a bottle of Hank’s Gourmet Root Beer. This bottle being glass provided I slightly more threatening weapon, since after you broke it over the attackers head you still had the jagged stub which you could grind into his belly. So I carried that around in the back pocket of my pants and felt much safer.

Random tidbits

At PHC Craig decided he would see if he could act like Jack Sparrow. He thoroughly succeeded and by the end of the camp kids were bringing their parents up to him so they could see his impersonation. He’ll have to tell you more about that though.

On the way home we also stopped in Tennessee at Smokey Mountain Knife Works. Needless to say we were in heaven . Two whole stories of nothing but knives and swords. Then we saw it! The LoTR section! They had the elven shield and helmet, a Gondorian shield helmet, the winged crown of the king of Gondor, and my personal favorite the sword Glamdring. Plus they had a lot of other things that I’m not mentioning. It was beautiful. I nearly purchased a carbon steel Saxe or Saex I can’t remember how you spell it. It is Saxon in origin, and was beautifully crafted, and it was a short sword, which as you know is my most beloved type of weapon. Unfortunately it was to much and I just couldn’t spend that much money on a sword that I couldn’t use except to fight Craig and Kevin. So I just got a boot dagger instead and I also got my little brother a really cool sword for only six bucks. It looks just like what the fauns fight with in Chronicles of Narnia. What was really funny was that we all went in there and looked at stuff that cost hundreds of dollars and then don't spend over twenty dollars.

Anyway, Craig and Kevin are going to have to help me remember some more stories cause I just went blank. Which reminds me, they both said to say hi for them and tell all of you that they do read your blogs but their computer doesn’t allow them to comment.

In other news I got my drivers license.

2006-07-28T22:32:00.000-05:00

A cool view from Monticello.

2006-07-26T11:05:00.000-05:00

The Highlights from My Trip
Section one--

On the way to Virginia…..
I would have to say that seeing the midnight showing of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 in Jackson Tennessee was the most fun part on the trip up to Virginia. Just being with my friends was awesome as well.
At SI Camp…..
Day one…….. There wasn’t anything really interesting that happened. We learned everybody’s name (well there alias anyway) got settled in our rooms and went to bed. Of course being the brilliant agents we are we took measures to secure our room so that if anything did happen in the middle of the night, we would be prepared. To that end we booby trapped our door. We took a big heavy book about the Revolutionary war, that Justin had brought for some reason I can’t remember and placed it in a Wal-Mart bag on the top bunk bed. Then we tied one end of a string to the bag and the other to the top of the door. Thus when you opened the door the book would be pulled of the bunk bed and give whoever was barging in a good does of history. Satisfied with our work we went happily to bed.

At about 4:00 am the was a rush of feet and about 4 or five Sedonian Secret Police busted into our room, activating our booby trap (Heheheh). Wielding assault rifles, pistols and flashlights, they demand our names. Corey and Justin had for some reason awakened about 5 minutes before and answered coherently their names and where they were from. I on the other hand was still half asleep. In response to their yelling questions I faintly moaned “I’m…Drew …………….I’m Drew and rolled over. Apparently satisfied the intruders made their escape. Of course the instant they were gone I was wide awake.

And the evening and the morning were the first day.

Day two………….First half of the day was filled with lectures about the intelligence field and all the different agencies etc. After lunch we had our first scenario briefing. After dinner we had free time and then we went to chapel where six agents who had given the wrong name when their rooms had been raided were marched away to be interrogated. After chapel there were sporting events. We did so so. We had a medical emergency in the handling of which Justin Hall distinguished himself by his quick action, cool head and leadership skills.

And the evening and the morning were the second day

Day three……… So you see the routine was pretty much the same. We played lots of Ultimate Frisbee, had lectures, scenarios and went on missions. It was all so fun!!!!! One thing I haven’t talked a lot about yet is how much we cleaned. I think I cleaned more that week than I have cleaned in the last year. We were doing this to get points. On our hands and knees we scrubbed the bathroom floor. We dusted, made our beds, cleaned the bathroom mirrors, scoured the toilet, took out the trash and vacuumed. In fact the we cleaned so much that the girls of the NRO were amazed and pleased. They were so pleased the day we broke the point system and got 5000 points over a perfect score that they bought us a pizza, and of course we had to clean up after that too.

I will post some funny stories from camp later, and also some funny stories from our trip home.

2006-07-25T18:41:00.000-05:00

And an overall view of Founders Hall.

2006-07-25T18:40:00.000-05:00

Here is a picture of Founders Hall at PHC.

2006-07-24T13:10:00.000-05:00

Another picture.

2006-07-24T08:51:00.000-05:00

I thought this was a cool picture.

Mission Entry Report thingy (part 1)

2006-07-22T08:33:00.000-05:00

Oh man this will be incredibly hard to attempt to summarize 2 action packed and exciting weeks in a blog post. But since I know you guys would probably kill me if I just said I had a good time…. I’ll attempt it.

The trip can be divided into three sections.
1. Traveling to camp
2. Camp
3. Traveling back home

On the way to camp we did do some sight seeing. We stopped at Monticello and Mt. Vernon. Personally, I preferred Monticello over Mt. Vernon. It’s design seemed to me more attractive. I took several pictures of both, and will post them soon. Anyway we had lots of fun on the way up.

After about two days of traveling we reached our destination. If ya’ll had been there you probably would have been laughing hysterically to see us trying to cover up our license plate which gave away the fact that we we’re in fact from Texas. After signing in we went to our room unpacked our bags and prepared ourselves mentally to remain undercover. At 7:00pm they briefed us on what we would be doing at camp, the rules and our mission for the week.

Our mission, in case you’re interested, was to ultimately rescue a scientist who had been kidnapped by the Sedonian Secret Police. This scientist had discovered a way to increase the production of crops per acre. Sedonia which was having a famine wanted that knowledge to (a) help ther economic situation (b) fund their terrorist operations. Obviously this would be a bad thing.

Along with working to complete the mission, we would also be hearing lectures from different people who had worked in the different agencies on topics like: the different types of Intelligence, Counter Intell, what is involved in getting a security clearance, the purpose of intell, and the list goes on. Also, we would hear from a recruiter from the C.I.A as well as a recruiter for the college. On top of all that, we would go on two field trips; first to the Spy Museum and also to the National Cryptologic Museum.

To complete our schedule we also would be doing what they called scenario briefings. We would be briefed on a situation and then based on that information have to advise the President what to do. The scenarios were both present and futuristic.

Now there would be a contest the entire week to see which agency could earn the most points, with the winner getting a “party in a bag” at the end of the week. An agency earned points by having clean rooms, completing missions, and winning athletic competitions. At this point, I should probably stop and explain what I mean by agency. All the campers were divided up into six agencies, which all represented real intell entities. So there was the C.I.A, F.B.I, N.S.A, N.R.O (which Justin, Corey and I were a part of), D.I.A and SOCOM. Each agency had a male and female wing which worked together to earn points on missions, scenarios, games etc…. There were about 25 people per agency.

Alright, so I’ve told you the basic layout, now I’ll just try and hit the highlights.

2006-07-22T07:53:00.000-05:00

Just so you all know I am diligently working on my report from our trip. Hang in there everyone. I will post it and pictures presently.

Drew

2006-07-21T20:29:00.000-05:00

Let's try this again.

2006-07-21T20:25:00.000-05:00

Me trying to drink from a very small water fountain.

Goodbye

2006-07-05T13:07:00.000-05:00

Well the time that was passing so slowly sped up all of the sudden and now it is time to leave. I still have some stuff to pack. I have been so busy lately I haven’t had much time to blog, but I knew I should say farewell. So Farewell!! We should be back the 20th so I will post and let ya’ll know all about the trip then. All I can say now, is that it will be so cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Until I return.

2006-06-21T16:11:00.000-05:00

Somewhere over the rainbow....

Camp (a brief summary)

2006-06-16T20:54:00.000-05:00

Well I am back until July the 6th and then I leave for spy camp. When considered as a whole I would have to say that the Youth Leadership Conference was fun. Although I was already somewhat familiar with the material, it was good to hear wiser heads than mine discus it. Also I enjoyed hanging out with my friends, as well as making a few new ones. Currently I am unsure as to whether or not I might like to return as a junior councilor next year. I must weigh the pros and cons. Anyways in short I had a good time but I am too tired to tell about it.

Cada

2006-06-08T09:35:00.000-05:00

And now the picture you have all been waiting for. The Tree. I really think it is the best picture of the Tree so far. Mom suggested that when the time comes we should take my senior pictures with the Tree. Maybe I should change the name of my blog to The Tree. What do you think?

2006-06-08T09:31:00.000-05:00

First we have a picture of the recently baled pasture.

2006-06-05T22:35:00.000-05:00

I am now troop 342’s fifth Eagle Scout.

2006-06-04T19:30:00.000-05:00

There is a phrase in a song from My Fair Lady that keeps running through my mind whenever I think about the ball. Of course you’ve probably guessed it. It goes like this…. “ I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night….etc” I imagine that most of you feel the same. I don’t really need to describe the evening for you since virtually all of my readers were there. If I had to choose some highlights of the ball, I would have to say the exuberant Virginia Reel (the second one), and of course the Waltzes, but really, it was all lovely. Also it was nice to see that Chivalry still survives, even if only in theatrical form, (for the most part). If you still can’t tell, by this time, if I enjoyed myself or not, I’ll just come right out and say it…. I LOVED THE BALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. And thank you to everyone who did me the honor of dancing with me.

Cada

2006-05-23T21:22:00.000-05:00

Here is your random verse of poetry for the day.

The vilest deeds like poison weeds
Bloom well in prison-air:
It is only what is good in Man
That wastes and withers there:
Pale Anguish keeps the heavy gate,
And the Warder is Despair.

From The Ballad of Reading Gaol
By Oscar Wilde

I'm racking my brain to think of something interesting to post..... so just hang in there.

Cada

2006-05-22T22:07:00.000-05:00

Completely bereft of inspiration at this moment, I opened my beloved Pocket Book of Verse determined to post the first thing my eye fell upon and here it is.

And I shall thereupon
Take rest, ere I be gone
Once more on my adventure brave and new:
Fearless and unperplexed,
When I wage battle next,
What weapons to select, what armour to indue.

Rabbi Ben Ezra
By Robert Browning ( I think)

On that note I shall say goodnight.

Cada

2006-05-17T14:46:00.000-05:00

I thought this was a cool picture.

The knights hogged all the dragons

2006-05-14T11:54:00.000-05:00

BLAM….click…….BLAM…..click…..BLAM…..click…BLAM…click…..BLAM……Yep, that was me laying flat on my stomach trying to shoot a water moccasin off a tree limb. After five unsuccessful attempts from this position, I decided to switch to the upright stance. While I still am unsure whether I actually hit it or not, I did make it to get off the tree branch. Now the question may be asked, “Why were you out there shooting snakes in the first place?” There are two reasons really.
1. Deep within the psyche of every male is the desire to fight evil, face danger, win, conquer, etc…. You see this with little boys all the time, and also in all the tales of gallant knights riding out to battle fierce dragons. In fact, the knights were so desirous to defeat the evil dragons that they forgot to leave any for posterity. Killing snakes fulfills those requirements. Snakes are seen as evil and there is a small chance of danger from being bitten.
2. I don’t like snakes. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I despise snakes. Most people hate snakes. Sure there are a few exceptions, but that’s just it, they are exceptions to the rule, not the norm.
Support for this theory, I believe, can be found in the Bible, specifically in the first book of the Bible, the third chapter, the fifteenth verse. God was rebuking the serpent and said, “And I will put enmity between thee and the woman and between thy seed and her seed.” Now, you’re probably thinking “but that was symbolic of Christ, not about people disliking snakes.” To this I would respond: Couldn’t this verse have dual meaning, just like all those Old Testament sacrifices had a literal meaning and a figurative meaning.
Also, it is universally acknowledged that the verse right above it has a literal meaning; “upon thy belly thou shalt go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy life.” It doesn’t make sense (to me anyway) that God would be speaking literally in one verse to the serpent, and suddenly switch to speaking figuratively in the next verse. Much more likely, it seems to me, that this verse, as I stated previously, has a double meaning. (I am joined in this interpretation by C.S Lew….I mean…Jones)
Although my going around killing snakes may seem slightly unfair to you, don’t worry. The snakes have just as much chance of escaping as I have of killing them, since I’m handicapped by my poor shooting abilities or the length of my wooden sword.
And if you still wonder why it is snakes, in particular, that I kill…it’s really because the knights hogged all the dragons.

Cada

2006-05-11T14:46:00.000-05:00

I just took this picture. Isn't it cool!

2006-05-08T15:39:00.000-05:00

This picture inspired me to compose a poem which I never finished and then lost.

2006-05-07T20:01:00.000-05:00

I really love this tree. It's just so cool.

Shakespeare’s Sonnet LXV

2006-05-06T11:44:00.000-05:00

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! Where, alack,
Shall Time’s best jewel from Time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Cada

The Elixir of Life

2006-05-01T17:08:00.000-05:00

I have discovered the elixir of life has been found! Made from a rare blend of tropical fruits, the elixir infuses new life into the tired and worn bodies of those who drink it. Many experts have speculated that this potion, if it did indeed exist, would most likely be some concoction of certain fruits and herbs etc… Currently it is unknown where it exactly originated, but a tribe that drinks this beverage at all of it’s tribal powwow’s has recently been found. The outward effects of the elixir are: talking a lot, possible fidgeting, jumping up and down etc… In the native tongue, it is named something like Jamba Juice (Caribbean Passion.) but the translation may be a little rough since the discovery is so recent. I had the chance to taste this fruity cocktail on my last expedition into the concrete jungle. Not knowing how coveted their favorite beverage would be to any outsiders that learned of its power, the friendly and hospitable natives offered me some of this incredible drink. Almost overwhelmingly tangy at first, I gradually grew accustomed to the taste and I think with further consumption I could grow to appreciate its qualities. The effects must also become more noticeable the more you ingest.
Perhaps it will not be long before the outside world also discovers this miracle potion and seeks to profit from it. I can only hope that National Geographic gets there before the those who might wish to exploit this discovery.

As far as my performance in the tournament…….we won’t go there. Suffice it to say, that it was bad. To call it a massacre would be painting it in an optimistic light.

As for having fun at the tournament.... I had lots.

As for debating next year the jury is still out. I heard from a confidential source that there might be a small chance of a return next year….. but who can trust that.

Cada

The Words Escape Me

2006-04-26T07:19:00.000-05:00

Well, I wish I had something eloquent to say upon my departure. However, I find myself in the predicament of outlaw, Pancho Villa, when he knew he was mortally wounded, he told his friend: (paraphrasing) Tell them it didn't happen like this, tell them I said something clever.
So I leave you with the words of others. Here are some quotes about truth I looked up for debate.

George Eliot:
Falsehood is easy, truth so difficult.

Henri Frederic Amiel:
Truth is not only violated by falsehood; it may be equally outraged by silence.

Mark Twain:
Always tell the truth. That way, you don't have to remember what you said.
(My personal favorite)

I don’t know who said it, but this quote also comes to mind.
“There are many hills on which to die. Make sure you choose the tallest.”

Goodbye, perhaps I shall post about Regionals when I return.
Cada

My song

2006-04-24T18:32:00.000-05:00

If I were to write the saddest most melancholic song in the world it would sound like this.
First utilizing the range of an orchestra I would replicate the sound of the sea upon the sand. On top of that, I would layer the sound of the wind in the leaves. The songs beat would be rapid, like a rushing river or the beat of a racing heart. I would begin the melody very softly using a high pitched whistle or flute, trying to create the sound a person makes when whistling under their breath. It would grow in strength and to it I would add the viola and the violin in harmony with each other. Somewhere along the way I would interweave the bagpipe. All these instruments would work together in harmony for the tune would increase in strength until they reached the it‘s zenith. The song would end thus; one by one the all the instruments would drop out, except for the whistle or maybe the violin. The Celtic drum (whose name I cannot spell) alone would keep the beat. The whistle or violin would play the tune gently. This would continue for several measures and then stop.

The song’s melody would be haunting and enchanting, ensnaring one’s every attention. Never, even if you lived a thousand years, would you forget the tune, and when the last light of day was fading, it would play through your mind as you rested your head upon your pillow. Sadly would it fall upon your ears, but if you listened closely, somewhere in it’s depths, you would faintly perceive a secret joy shrouded by shadow, but always it would escape your mind’s grasp and comprehension. The song would be symbolic of one’s life. Beginning softly and small, it would grow to its maturity, then pass into old age and then cease. So dear friends, by translating the music of our hearts into music for our ears one would create the most powerful, saddest, and most melancholic song in all history.

Cada

Question?

2006-04-20T14:08:00.000-05:00

If you wanted to compose the saddest, most melancholic song in the world, what would you want it to sound like? What instruments would be involved? How would you blend them? Seriously I want to know. I will comment on what I think it would sound like presently.

Cada

2006-04-13T16:26:00.000-05:00

Here is a picture from Double H high adventure camp.
From right to left: Cody St.John, our guide Criag, myself, Ross Fearing, and Mr. Yerkes, who is just visible through the brush.

It was such an awesome trip.

Cada

Former ramblings on Wandering

2006-04-11T21:49:00.000-05:00

For those of you new to Wandering, I would like to direct you to what I consider to be my best posts so far.
Check out these great posts. You’ll have to go by dates because I hadn’t started putting titles yet.

In January:
Wednesday 18th --- My tight story.
Monday the 30th --- My Hog story.

In February:
Wednesday the 15th ---The Life Clock

In March:
Thursday the 16th --- My story of the Battle of Hastings (it’s long , but I think it’s worth it.)
Thursday the 2nd ---- My politically correct retelling of Mary had a little Lamb.

Enjoy!

Cada

There is no rest for the Weary

2006-04-10T17:35:00.000-05:00

I was literally in in the process of kicking back and relaxing, when the phone rang. Mom picked it up. After a short conversation, she handed it to me. On the other end was one of my new friends from the Bedford tournament calling to let me know that I had qualified for Regionals. I felt all the strength and vigor leave my bones at the mere thought of facing the gauntlet of debate again. I, the complete and utter newbie, would be up against seasoned professionals, gunning to qualify for Nationals. Of course, they would be some of the nicest people you ever met in your entire life, but that did nothing to ease my trepidation. You can only begin to imagine the internal struggle that took place, only comparable to the insane babblings of Sméagol and Gollum.

No….. it burns us!!!!! It freezes us!!! We don’t like debate…. Gollum…. Gollum.

This way…good Sméagol always debates.

Anyway, you get the picture. In the end I have decided to say with Frodo “I will take it, even though I do not know the way.” So I begin my monumental trek to Mount Doom to cast in the arguments I come up with and watch them be consumed by fire.

One resolution to rule them all; one resolution to find them. One resolution to bring them all, and in the debate tournament, bind them.

Cada

2006-04-08T19:30:00.000-05:00

“I come back to you now at the turn of the tide.”
Well at least, the tide better turn. I noticed that the bloggosphere basically stopped turning since about 90% of its population was absent. That must be remedied.

A short description of the debate went as follows:

Wednesday - arrived at hotel, ate dinner, tried to sleep, failed to sleep.

Thursday - Got up early, went to the tournament,

Round one Debate - Slaughter

Round two Debate - Got a bye (meaning I won because there was no one to debate me. There was an uneven number of participants you see.)

Flight B Speech - Gave a mediocre impromptu

Round three Debate - Debated one of the top people, put up some resistance, but the Alamo was overrun.

Round four Debate - Debated another excellent person. The whole thing was really relaxed and I had fun. It was late.

Friday -

Round five Debate - Possibly beat a guy. We had the same value; that of Truth.

Flight B Speech - Gave my best impromptu on the word “struggle”. It was 3:45 long.
Round six Debate - Had a "solid round", I’m not sure who one.
Flight B Speech - Last event for me. Gave a poor impromptu only lasting 1:50.

The rest of the time we just hung out, watched other people do stuff etc…. I did make some good friends, who will hopefully show up here soon. It is really amazing how much older a suit will make you look.

Anyway, I’m too tired to write anymore. All my brain cells are dead, which explains the disorganized structure, and boring sentences this post is constructed of.

See you all at the costume party. Yeah, whoohoo, and other terms of delight.

Cada

2006-04-05T08:25:00.000-05:00

“I’m going now.”

Yes my friends we shall be departing post haste. I don’t have much to say. The words simply aren’t there. You shall find my last will and testament tucked between my mattress. I guess I got my wish to face the firing squad without a blindfold. Let my last words be, “If I am to die, I shall die well dressed”

“ I will return on the fourth day, at dawn look to the east”

“The road goes ever ever on, down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has run, and I must follow if I can.”

A light on the freeway, white vans pass into the west.

Cada

2006-04-01T15:33:00.000-06:00

I have a friend who whenever he starts a book, opens first to the last chapter and reads it. He says its because he wants to know if it is worth his time. Now to me, that is just wrong! I can’t imagine doing that. It is the job of the author to interest you enough in the first sentence, paragraph, page and chapter that you will keep reading. Reading the end first, defeats the whole point of reading the book at all.

That is kind of how I felt however, watching the Phantom of the Opera. It started off with the end, when all the lights had gone out, all the adoring fans were gone, and the show was over, and via the use of switching from past to present; it kept reminding you what the end was. For some movies, that would have worked alright, but in this case it began on a somewhat depressing note and ended on a depressing note. So it managed to sink me into a somewhat melancholic mood. On a scale of 1-10 I would probably give it a five. Oh yeah, another thing was you couldn’t really hate the villain. Of course, this was intentional on the part of the director. My happiness for what’s-his-name and Christine, was dampened by my pity for the phantom. In other words, I wound up feeling sorry for everybody involved, and wishing the whole sad story had never happened. (not that it did, but you understand).

Anyway, that’s my two cents on that movie. It wasn’t all bad. I thought most of the music was cool.

One last thing, for some reason the scene where the Phantom was starting to hang Roul (or whatever his name is) and they were both singing at Christine struck me as funny.

Cada

2006-03-30T22:31:00.000-06:00

Forgive me. I am experimenting with special effects on the computer. Can you tell?

Cada

2006-03-30T22:20:00.000-06:00

Here are some more pictures.

2006-03-28T14:41:00.000-06:00

Eight years ago: I was contentedly roaming the hills and dales; not to far from the house though.

*5 years ago I was: 12 It must have been a rather boring time cause I can’t remember anything about it.

*1 year ago I was: 16 trying to finish up Starting points and getting ready to go to Mexico for a month.

*Yesterday I: did school and lazed around.

*5 songs I know all the words to: Nimrodel (from the Fellowship of the Ring) Into the West (third soundtrack to Return of the King) Parting Glass (Irish ballad) Sweet Home Alabama, Old Red

*5 things I would do with 100 million dollars:
Go to college
Invest for the future
Support a mission organization
Make sure the rest of the family is well cared for
Build a castle with secret passages

*5 things I would never wear:
Evan’s dirty socks
A hot pink tuxedo
Eyebrow rings
I’ll never wear makeup…again
Fingernail polish

*5 favorite tv shows: Don’t care

*5 bad habits:
Wasting time
Procrastination
Being Critical
Being Moody and Distant
Hogging the computer

*5 biggest joys:
Blogging
Playing musical instruments
Writing stories, poetry etc..
Studying the Bible
Sword fighting

Cada

2006-03-23T18:59:00.000-06:00

This one is for Evan. By the way my best bud Craig took these during my project in Mexico.

2006-03-23T18:57:00.000-06:00

Is it a sunset, or could it be the sun reflecting off the bay?

2006-03-23T18:41:00.000-06:00

Prospice
By Robert Browning

Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat,
The mist in my face,
When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,
The power of the night, the press of the storm,
The post of the foe;
Where he stands, the Arch Fear in visible form,
Yet strong men must go;
For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,
Though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.
I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more,
The best and the last!
I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore,
And bade me creep past.
No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers
The heroes of old,
Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears
Of pain and cold.
For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black end minute’s at end
And the elements’ rage, the fiend-voices that rave,
Shall dwindle, shall blend
Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,
O soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!

I came across another poem I liked while browsing the beloved pages of my Pocket Book of Verse.
I want to be like this guy when I meet my end.

No blindfold when facing the firing squad for me.

Cada

2006-03-22T14:14:00.000-06:00

Miniver Cheevy
by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold,
Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam’s neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the old mediaeval grace
Of iron clothing.

This guy vaguely reminds me of someone. I wonder why? Hehe.

Cada

2006-03-20T11:46:00.000-06:00

Let's try this again. Here's the enthralling tree.

2006-03-19T20:11:00.000-06:00

I am simply enthralled by this tree out in our pasture. Notice Spiffy that I used the rule of thirds.

Cada

2006-03-16T15:51:00.000-06:00

Soon, the sun would lift his flaming head above the rim of the world, but for now the world was grey, enshrouded in fog.Enshrouded… shroud… burial…death, how easy it is, the young man thought, to switch from the pleasant subject of an early morning to that of sobering death. Morning…mourn…funeral…death…there went his mind again.
In front of him, the ground rose, culminating in a steep ridge. How many, wondered the solitary soldier, would surmount its height only to be cut down. From behind, he heard the distant braying of trumpets marshalling troops to war and closer at hand, a voice was calling his name, “Thomas, Thomas”.

The sun beat down upon his head. Although it was October, the heat was stifling. His face was sweaty; his shoulder length brown hair clung to his head. He was scarcely able to move his arm; his bloody hand stuck to his sword handle. He could feel his lungs straining for oxygen. His mouth was dry and his tongue clung to the roof of his mouth. How peaceful this ridge had looked to him only a few hours before. Now the ground was littered with the dead and dying. He shuddered at the thought that many times he had nearly joined the ranks of the fallen, and the day was long from over. Around him soldiers were reforming for yet another deadly charge.
Together they surged up the hill toward the enemy. As the two lines met, the noise was deafening: the screams of the wounded, the clash of sword and battle ax, the shouts of men engaged in mortal combat, and far above the cries of carrion fowl. Time seemed to slow and every moment became an individual image imprinted forever on his mind: the blank stare from the face of a corpse, the anguish from the face of a dying friend, the grass turned red by blood.
He pressed forward with his brothers in arms struggling to reach the shield wall of the enemy. Scrambling over the barricade of tree trunks and the bodies of friends and foes alike, they ran to meet their fate.

He gritted his teeth and willed his limbs to move. Ducking under a swing from an axe, he drove his sword through an enemy’s gut. He was determined. He would not die here. Not if he had any say in the matter. Sidestepping a blow from a mace, he struck off another assailant’s arm. Whack… His sight blurred. An excruciating pain on the back of his steel clad head knocked him to his knees. He rolled over onto his back. The eyes that met his own were blue. The hair was blond. The face was young. Not quite what he had expected the person who brought his demise to look like. He had always just assumed Death would have red eyes and black hair and be cloaked in black with a scythe in his hand. From a distance, he heard his own voice shouting the battle cry of the army, “God help us.” With all his strength, Thomas lunged to the side, but even as the stroke fell, the fire in the eyes of his executioner dulled and went out, and he slumped to the ground with an arrow in his back. Thomas leapt to his feet and threw himself back into the fray.

The sun had gone down in the west, soaking the sky in crimson to match the color of the ground. Thomas stooped to close the eyes of a dead comrade. How had he managed to survive that day’s battle? Surely the hand of God had held him that day.

The war did not last long after that decisive battle. Soon it was over and the Duke was crowned king. Afterwards, Thomas along with many others were given fiefdoms for their part in the war.
“And that, little Thomas is the tale of your ancestor, Thomas Sutton at the battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066 AD, in whose honor we named you. He became an earl or something and married, and had many children and grand children and lived happily ever after. Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

“Daddy, how come my last name is Jones and not Sutton?

“Because Sutton is your great grandmother’s maiden name.”

Cada

SUTTON Shield: Gold with a green lion rampant.
SUTTON Crest: A lion emerging from a crown.
SUTTON motto: "Pour Y Parvenir"

2006-03-09T20:19:00.000-06:00

Life Lessons Learned (from recent campaign.)

1. Just smile and wave boy’s.

2. Being the “bigger” person is always better. (In more ways than one.)

3. If you keep calling they’ll get out there and vote,
even if they curse you out for pestering them.

4. Never, never, cast your “pearls” before “swine” (Spiffy) because they probably will attack and gore you. Or at least throw your “pocket protector” in the road.

5. Always maintain your composure.

6. Laughter is the best: medicine, antidote and non-lethal weapon,

7. The good guys can win

8. It feels good when all your hard work pays off.

9. Poll working is way more fun than walking and phone calling.

10. Everybody, no matter how rich, only has one vote.

I know you guys can probably think of some more.
Come on guys we need to get back to where we were in the blog world.
And you guys who haven't been posting, (Evan), post!!

Cada

2006-03-02T13:37:00.000-06:00

The new and improved version of Mary Had a Little Lamb

This is the CBS news room. I’m Dan Blather reporting:

Mary, a well adjusted and environmentally considerate little girl, who was also a member of the local PETA for kids group, had a little lamb. (Actually to say she had a lamb is not quite accurate. The lamb could just have easily said it had a little girl. The lamb was an equal member of Mary’s family with the same rights and privileges she had.) Her family had just moved to Texas from Massachusetts and she and the lamb would be going to a new school. Finally, the big day arrived to attend the local institution for diversity awareness and tolerance training. Full of excitement and anticipation, Mary and her coequal friend of a different species set out. Upon their arrival, the other children who were very close-minded, intolerant, unintelligent, SUV loving, eco-terrorists and socially inept, members of a vast right wing conspiracy laughed at and made fun of the two. The principal, disturbed by all the ruckus, came out and informed Mary that the lamb could not come to school. He also gave her several demerits for causing the disruption. Heartbroken that people could be so terrible, Mary and her coequal friend of a different species cried all the way home. Outraged by the horrible injustice of the school's actions, Mary’s parents held a news conference, demanding a public apology from the school and an immediate change in the schools policy, asserting “that our wooly friend has just as much right to a good education as anyone else”. The principal in an interview at his house, dominated by a large oil well in the back yard, said, “ Our school has always held that it’s not a sheep’s brain that needs enlargement, but his belly, and with the school lunch program in the shape it’s in we don’t believe that could be accomplished here at GW Bush Elementary” Horrified, the parents of Mary and Lambert, as they affectionately call him, retained legal counsel from the ACLU. A spokesperson from that association likened the situation to that faced by African Americans back in the nineteen hundredth and twentieth centuries, and said that they would fight all the way to the Supreme Court if necessary. In a show of support the Reverend Jesse Jackson held a fundraising rally, calling on “all God’s children no matter what color of the Rainbow, no matter wooly or hairless, to unite against discrimination wherever it is found.”
We will keep you updated as this truly heart warming story of the struggle for equality develops.

From the CBS news room this is Dan Blather saying goodnight: Courage! America! Courage!

Hope you enjoy this original work. It just popped into my head and I felt I had to write it down or I might forget it.

Cada

Coming soon: An interesting (hopefully) historical fiction with ties to the present day.

Just in case you guys get the wrong impression, I am not a racist. I don’t believe that people like Jesse Jackson represent the majority of black people.

2006-02-28T11:32:00.000-06:00

The big day was at hand. The anxious groom stood at the altar awaiting his bride to be. The crowd was hushed with anticipation. Suddenly from the back of the church a loud wail commenced, more at home at a funeral than a wedding. Shuffling slowly down the isle was a crying little boy of about four or five. Beside him with all the sweetness of innocence walked a dark haired little girl, apparently undisturbed by the boy’s sobs. He was a sight to behold in his miniature tuxedo. His nose was runny and his hands were pressed over his ears. So adverse was he to the scene taking place before him, he kept his eyes closed, until he ran into one of the pews with a bald man on the end. I guess it had something to do with the old childhood idea of if I can’t see them they can’t see me. At last, after much side-winding slowness he reached the front of the church and sat down. The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief. After the rest of the procession of bride’s maids and groom’s men came the bride, a picture of loveliness on her father’s arm. Her face was somewhat crimson against her white dress, probably in no small part due to the actions of the little ring bearer. I’m sure the little boy’s mother was having a nuclear melt down in a corner somewhere. Everybody else thought it was cute that the little boy would be so attached to his older sister. The entire evening he waged his own little war against his new brother in-law. He couldn’t hold out forever though, and at last he succumbed and surrendered in return for some edible delicacy.
That’s what I remember of the first wedding I ever attended. It is sort of sketchy because I was young, maybe only four or five at the time. I didn’t really see everything that was going one either, I had my eyes closed most of the time. I do remember that the food afterwards was pretty good.

Cada

This post means that I finished rewriting my Eagle Service Project Report. All that remains is paperwork. So I’m back for a little while, until the next step.

2006-02-19T18:35:00.000-06:00

“But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should rise and you should not.
I’ll gently rise, and softly call,
Goodnight and joy be with you all.”

This will be my last post for a while; just how long, depends on me. Mom informed me today, that I can’t blog again until I finish up all my Eagle Scout requirements. This is not a grounding, however, since it totally depends on how motivated I am. If all goes well, I shall come back soon.
Perhaps, I will reappear with renewed creativity and imagination.

Possibly, one of these subjects might appear:

1- A reoccurring importance (I have noticed) on the theme of dying well.

2- A discourse on Plato’s theory of Forms. ( Thinks for a moment, or not)

3- One particular poem in the Silmarrillian.

4- A montage of quotes (from everywhere) that I love.

“So here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the sea comes the end of our fellowship. (for a while) I shall not say do not weep ( as if ), for not all tears are an evil.”

“I shall return.”

Cada

2006-02-15T13:47:00.000-06:00

Ever wonder how many hours, minutes, and seconds you’ve lived? Well, wonder no more!

Introducing; Time of Your Life ‘s new Life clock! Combining cutting edge technology with classic design, the Life clock counts down the time you have left to live (based on the average life expectancy).

The hyperbolic crystal, lithium tainted batteries that power the Life clock, come with a lifetime guarantee! If they don’t die when you do, send them back for a full refund!
The Life clock makes a great coffee table curio that is sure to be the envy of all your friends. It is also the perfect anniversary gift! You and that special someone can sit and watch your moments together tick off!

Order now at 1-800-Life Clock

But wait! If you order in the next five minutes, we'll include another Life Clock for free! That’s a value of $40 for just $19.95!!!

Get your Life Clock today, before anymore of your life ticks away!!!!!

The Life Clock is not for everyone. Do not use the Life Clock if you are on anti-depressants, or illegal substances. See your Psychiatrist immediately if you begin to experience feelings of depression or contemplate suicide. In a clinical study, some patients became addicted to watching the clock.

Steff, Aarin, and I came up with this idea on our way to the phone bank before last. Steffen said it would be cool to know how many hours you had left to live, I came up with the infomercial, and Aarin got the whole conversation started in the first place, I think.

Cada

2006-02-12T20:16:00.000-06:00

I just took this cool picture of the moon.

Cada

2006-02-12T16:44:00.000-06:00

Zzzipppp! whizzz! whoosh! Multiply those by about a hundred and you get me attempting to make myself as thin as possible behind a tree not meant to shelter anyone. I was endeavoring to hold my untenable position against Aaron and Nick as they advanced down the side in a effort to flank our line. The paintball gods did not smile on me however, and I was forced to advance in the opposite direction. In hind sight, it seemed as if the paintball gods had it in for me. Now I can identify with Odysseus. First my gun, that Nick had worked so hard to fix, malfunctioned. After every shot I would have to cock it manually. So I could not really be competitive with it. Then Nick let me use his old gun. That worked, until while walking back to base after being tagged in the hand during the first game, I slipped on a dead log, fell, and broke Nick’s gun. (I need to talk to Nick about that). Thankfully, I had brought my uncle’s gun and was still able to play. I say “play” but really I was pretty useless, sense I didn’t hit anyone the entire time. The one bright spot was when Steff and I bonsai charged Ethan. I was in the lead as I charged past Ethan, (he was on my left at about ten feet). We were firing as if there was no tomorrow. Up ahead there was a sapling bent over about waist high (for me). There was no cover to duck behind if I stopped, the only choice was to keep going and hope for the best. As I reached the obstacle I leapt into the air and twisted my body around to the right and came down with a perfect shot of Ethan’s back (just like they do in the movies). Ah, but the cruel irony was this: by the time I did that, Ethan had already surrendered to Steffen.

Now this may sound like I had a horrible time and did not enjoy myself. Actually, however, the opposite is true; I did, in spite of all the mishaps, have a great time and hope we play more paintball again soon.

Anyway, that is a brief account of my part at Evan’s birthday party. I sincerely hope everyone had fun after I, and the dark cloud that hung over my head, left.
Happy early Birthday wishes to Evan, who will soon be able to read this post.

Cada

2006-02-12T09:54:00.000-06:00

Here is a great poem summarizing the greatest qualities a man could possess.
I would count myself fortunate if I could follow a fourth of its advice.

If
By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream-and not make dreams your master;
If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings;
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings-nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it ,
And-which is more- you’ll be a Man, my son!

Cada

2006-02-10T22:50:00.000-06:00

I really hoped that I would not have this problem again. I can’t think of anything to post about! The day has not been very conducive posting to anyway. Inspiration I need inspiration!!!

Cada

2006-02-08T18:07:00.000-06:00

I could feel the pounding of the blood in the veins right behind my eyeballs. My breath came in short gasps, my throat was tight, my mouth was dry. I checked my ammo again. One shot left. This was it. It was either me or them. I could hear them closing in from all around me. My only chance was to try to break through the tightening noose and run for the ammo dump.

Does this sound like it came from a Rambo movie? Well it didn’t. It actually happened to me, only it wasn’t quite as dramatic as it sounds, I was merely playing paintball over at Jesse‘s house. What is accurate, however, is the description of how I felt. It is called an adrenalin rush, and as I bonsai-charged my two attackers I got a heavy dose of it.

Keep in mind this is all pseudo knowledge.

So how do you respond to adrenalin?

For me there are actually two ways that I can respond:

1- My world shuts down. The only thing that exist is the goal and myself. I talk little if at all. I answer questions with a nod or grunt. Anyone around at the time can feel the tension. This is how I normally respond in people related situations, ie eagle project (you guys who went with me can testify), and right before making a speech.

2- The second way I respond comes out in game situations ie paintball. I still become focused but I am more communicative. My senses become sharper, all is vivid, smells, colors, voices…etc When the paintballs are flying I somehow feel like everything is in slow motion. I try to maintain my calm under fire. It is hard, though, when Jordan is only fifteen feet away shooting like a hundred balls a minute at me.

Another funny example of an adrenalin rush I had was when Mr. Christian ran for office the last time. We went to a coffee for him. It was pretty interesting and there was some debate going on. I was the tender age of 16 and had just finished reading Washington’s farewell address. Anyway, the topic that was being batted about was the sorry state of our public schools. If you have read Washington’s farewell address, you know that it contains a brilliant soliloquy on education. For some reason I was feeling especially fired up that night, and I was possessed by a great desire to make a comment. So after formulating my thoughts and running them by the censor (mom) I waited for an opportunity to speak. When the time came and I stepped forward I was swept by an overwhelming desire to turn and flee for my life. I felt every blood vessel in my entire body rush with one accord to my face intent on exploding. My head felt as heavy ton of bricks and my legs seemed about to crumple. Suddenly my vision blurred, blanking out the rest of the thirty people in the room. Struggling to speak I said my piece and turned to sit down. Feeling like I was about to faint I managed to find a seat and collapse into it.

I thoroughly expect to feel this way in the upcoming Speech and Debate competitions and that dampens my enthusiasm. So this is your warning, if as the that time draws near don’t be surprised if I become somewhat less communicative and happy.

Cada

2006-02-07T09:14:00.000-06:00

More wise words:

A.E. Houseman

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
“Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies
But keep your fancy free.”
But I was one-and-twenty,
No use to talk to me.

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard him say again,
“The heart out of the bosom
Was never given in vain;
‘Tis paid with sighs a-plenty
And sold for endless rue.”
And I am two-and-twenty,
And oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.

Cada

2006-02-03T21:55:00.000-06:00

“Do not disturb the waters.”

The surface of the pond was placid, as Indy, our dog, casually meandered down to the bank for a drink. Little did he suspect the menace that lurked below, the nameless fear which haunted those waters. Well actually not nameless.

Across the pond a ripple moved. Closer and closer it came. Indy paused in his drinking to look around like an unsuspecting wilda beast right before the crocodile attacks. The sleepless malice moved into position. A close observer could have marked a dark shadow just beneath the surface of the pond about ten feet from the very thirsty Indy. Shashplaash! The water erupted as the creature, with lighting speed, struck our shocked pet. Snarling, growling, barking and hissing, emanated from the tumbling mass of fur and fangs.

The two animals broke apart, and the creature from the murky brown water leapt dramatically back into its sheltering depths. The bleeding Indy eyed the water confusedly. What the heck was that thing that had attacked him so fiercely for no obvious reason.

Apparently parched by the conflict, Indy cautiously crept back down to the waters edge and began to sip warily. From ambush behind a nearby cattail the crazed creature sprang again from the water like Chuck Norris in some movie I can’t remember the name of. After a launching a brief barking barrage, Indy decided to quench his thirst elsewhere.

What animal could be so fierce? Could it be an alligator, whose tactics it imitated, or maybe a badger, whose bad temper it evidenced. No! The animal that had attacked our unoffending pet, was no more than a large water rat. A Nutria to be exact.

The moral of this story is, if any of you ever come to my house,: “Do not disturb the waters!”

Cada

2006-02-01T17:05:00.000-06:00

Here is the latest thing Craig and I are working on ( the one I was timid about posting). It is in rough outline form. Craig comes up with most of the general plot while I work on elaboration and the accompanying ballad. Keep in mind this is in brainstorming form. So if it doesn’t all flow smoothly together don’t hold it against me.

This is the story of Emmeth and Anathian:

In ages past when elves and men were young and there lived Emmeth and Anathian.

Of Elves:
Tall and fair they were and powerful, caring for all things that grew. They delighted in songs and music and wandering the wide world. Many strong kings had they. And great among them was counted Emmeth. Immortal they were and age told not upon their features or their strength.

Of Men:
Men had minds of metal and iron. Great builders they were and many are the strong towers and cities they raised. Coming after the elves, they grew in power, knowledge and strength, until they rivaled the elves and in some ways surpassed them. Always they bore an unquenchable desire to conquer and explore, to master and to understand. They were not content, but always searching for of something new. They too had the gift of immortality. Counted among the fairest of them was Anathian.

Then came Sargon among them. (Sargon it is explained a different tale. If my memory severs me well, I think he once was an elf.)
(Note this is a Biblical name as are many in the books . It has nothing to do with LoTR, Craig started these books before we even knew about those movies. A lot of the names come from Latin roots etc.)

Anyway:
Then Sargon came among men in disguise. Subtly he began to spread dissension amongst the men. And rumors went abroad that the elves were trying to suppress them and keep them from becoming too powerful. So craftily did Sargon spread these whispers that their source could not be discovered. And many men who heard them began to believe them and indeed thought they had come from their own minds. Cheifest of those deceived was Anathian’s brother (whom we haven’t thought up a name for yet.) Yet Anathian was not deceived and she hated Sargon, but no one would heed her warnings, thinking that her love for Emmeth had clouded her sight. Some began to mutter that she was a traitor, but because of her brother they did her no harm.
At last open war broke out between elves and men. And Emmeth and Anathian were separated. Men had grown powerful and they pushed the elves back forcing them to abandon their capitol. Emboldened by their victories men grew proud and cruel. They began to believe themselves to be invincible and unstoppable and even some began to believe, secretly in their hearts, that they were gods. It was their undoing. In the last battle in which they matched their might against the elves was their doom decreed. The battle had been raging for most of the day and the men were pressing the elves back. Victory was near and men’s hearts were proud. It happened that several elves that had been captured were led before the general of the men. In arrogance he ordered them to bow to him and worship him or die. They chose death. Straightway there was a boom of thunder and a voice spoke from heaven. ( we haven’t figured out what it says yet) The gist of it is that men have sinned against God and as punishment they are stripped of their immortality. (That was Craig’s idea. I think it’s shear brilliance).

Emmeth was at that battle and immediately he set out to the elvin capitol in search of Anathian; his heart in anguish knowing that she too would die. There he encountered her brother who wasn’t at the battle and didn’t believe the news of men’s defeat. He attacked Emmeth, with whom he had once, been closer than a brother. Emmeth only defended himself and tried to reason with his friend while fighting for his life. In a furry Anathian’s brother tore up a huge pillar and tried to hurl it at Emmeth. But he misjudged his strength and the pillar crushed him beneath it. Right before he died he realized that Emmeth was telling the truth all along and had never ceased to be his friend. Anathian finds Emmeth and the body of her brother. ( We haven’t really worked this part out yet) As Emmeth tried to find the words to tell her that she was no longer immortal, some henchman of Sargon showed up. However they are no match for Emmeth and Anathian but as they fled in terror one turned and shot a poisoned arrow that pierced Anathian as she stooped beside the body of her brother.
Thus perished Anathian in the flower of her youth, her eyes undimmed by age, her cheeks unmarked by time.

( Here I take up the story in lyrical form)

Emmeth took her frame into his arms,
And bore her toward the grey shipyards,
Into a boat he made his way,
And set the sail toward fading day.

Chorus:
Anathian, Anathian, of mortal maids most fair.
The sun shone on your golden locks
And was entangled there.

( As he is leaving other elves come to the shore and call out to him to remain).

Come back the cried and do not go,
Hearth and home no more know.
I can no longer dwell in peace,
For it has gone beyond the sea.

A jewel he’d made for her delight,
He took into his hand,
And cast it toward the white topped waves,
That beat upon the strand.

It caught the last rays of the sun,
And shone forth brilliantly.
It dazzled all the watching eyes,
No longer could they see.

And when at last their sight returned,
No ship before them lay.
Nor could their eyes make out its shape
Through the deepening haze.

The End

(We haven’t decided what happens to Emmeth yet but I‘m sure it will be sad.)

Cada

2006-01-31T11:08:00.000-06:00

We are all sick here. Thanks to my youngest niece that is. She came for a visit and was sick. Well it wasn’t long before the rest of us succumbed. First Shelby, then Joy then Josh then Mom then Dad (in a hotel in Mississippi or somewhere) and last of all Me. So the long and short of it is that I’ll miss Co-op today and get behind on Physics. Aaahhh!! I hope that this won’t affect Friday teen activities.

Cada

2006-01-30T19:33:00.000-06:00

Kkaabblaaamm… Boooommm… Kaabbaannggg… Seven times the air was torn by roar of gunfire, as Papa’s 300 Weatherbe magnum and my lever action 308 thundered salvos at the herd of about 15 to 20 hogs. They had been contentedly rooting about 120 yards out in the recently cleared twenty acres, until we busted up their party.

We had ridden out there, originally, to see if there were any deer when we spotted the hogs. Quickly we jumped back on the 4-wheeler and raced to the house. While Papa grabbed the guns, I got the spot light and loaded 4 shells into my clip. With the light fading, we hurried back to the twenty acres. To our surprise, the hogs were still happily tearing up the field. Chambering our rounds, we took aim on the unsuspecting marauders. (Hogs have a really bad reputation around here for tearing up good hay pastures and basically making a mess.) Anyway, we cut loose. The hogs took off running, but they seemed confused. After about a fifty foot dash, they halted for about five seconds. I let loose again with another shot. Again they took off, but this time in the opposite direction. Papa and I emptied our clips on them as they disappeared over a ridge, and then went to see if we had hit anything. Sure enough we found one, shot through the hip and the neck but still alive. Her beady red eyes glared hatefully at us. I took the extra round from my pocket and dispatched her to hog heaven. We fanned out looking to see if we had hit anymore. The second one we found behind the ridge. I’m convinced that I killed this one. It had apparently been shot directly up the rear and there was no exit wound. My guess is that I aimed at that one which I had noticed before since it was brown instead of black. I think that it was facing away from me when I shot it. Yeah I know, not a glorious shot, but hey it got the job done. Believe it or not, this is actually the first time I have shot anything bigger than a turtle. So I am pretty pleased.

Cada

Coming soon: A creature from the Slimy Green Lagoon attacks our dog Indy.

2006-01-29T20:49:00.000-06:00

Here is a section of a poem by Anne Bradstreet, titled The Author to her Book, about how an author feels about their work.

Thou ill-form'd offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth did'st by my side remain,
Till snatcht from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad expos'd to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call.
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy Visage was so irksome in my sight,
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I wash'd thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretcht thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet

I have those feelings (except for the mother part). I have even more reason to have them than she had!

Anyway, perhaps I will be brave and post what I was going to....(pauses and considers)....or maybe not. (hehe)

Cada