A Hiatus and a Change of Season.

My sophomore year Thanksgiving break exceeded all expectations. A weekend in Wheaton opened my eyes to what some quality Christian fellowship looks like, and what an evening of solid laughter can do for the spirits. A week in Topeka with family and friends will certainly be the fuel getting me through these last few weeks. Now let me plug up the hole through which all this sentimentality is oozing. Some observations.

Everything tastes better on Thanksgiving. I've had mashed potatoes and turkey at least a half dozen times this school year, but when mom pops it in the oven and dad whips up the taters with the right amount of milk and melted butter, everything comes together like the New England Patriots to make a really good meal without anything standing out.

This was the first time I felt a little bit old going into CPLS. Last year I had just graduated, everyone basically accepted me as still being a student. This year more faces were less familiar, looking at me with a hint of recognition but not really knowing who I was. I had gone from A-list to B-list. I guess I can be on Celebrity Poker Showdown now...bonus. I also hit the big 20th b-day a few weeks ago and, as Craig would say, "escaped teen pregnancy." Double bonus.

I didn't take any pictures over break and I’m kinda upset about it. Part of this is probably due to facebook. When no new pictures of you have been tagged in a while you start to wonder if your popularity is dwindling...and it probably is.

Christmas music is back. Sufjan Christmas music is here (officially) for the first time. What a wonderful combination. I'm rockin to some Amy Grant right now. Unfortunately I just realized I never ripped the Martina McBride Christmas CD onto my computer. Sad. She has piercing eyes if you didn’t know. This is the one time in the year I listen to N'Sync without feeling gay...not that there's anything wrong with that. ("Listening to N'Sync or feeling gay?" you ask. "Your call. Enjoy the ambiguity" say I.)

Soon the refreshing scent of fresh evergreen will diffuse throughout E suite in Dewey Hall and all will once again be as it should be. I eagerly await that day (Tuesday perhaps).

This week will top finals week for worst week of the semester. The great thing is that it still won't be that bad.

On an Airplane Appear Mill and Darwin

"Back to LA we go. You have family in Kansas City?"
"In-laws," He nodded his head towards his wife who was sleeping against the window. She used two crummy airplane blankets to cover herself and decided to forego the pillow for her own, less mysterious and sterile, hooded sweatshirt. "Reality actually seems like a pleasant option compared to this holiday."
I'm nodded in affirmation and pretended to listen carefully. Really, I was getting to know him, this man stuck in the middle seat while my legs stretched into the aisle and his wife slumbered. His tan blazer and in-fashion square-toed leather shoes match the image of 'actor' he was trying to exude by conspicuously flashing screenplays while shuffling through his briefcase.
"I guess in-laws feel pressure to be that way. They've got to feed the stereotype right?"
"But her parents go out of their way. It’s not even that they're mean to me. When the holidays come, everything suddenly becomes such a big decision. How big should the turkey be? How many leaves in the table? Which aunts and uncles should get invited before we eat and which do we just want for dessert? Which do we not really want to see? Who is going to sit where?'
"I have no idea what you are going through. Sorry. I'm pretty sure my family approaches Plato's form of the good. Yours must be a really demented adaptation."
"You think so? Maybe yours has just progressed farther in natural selection. My family is analogous to the Fuegians Darwin called barbarians and your family has gone through some slow subtle changes over a long period of time until it reached a point of perfection."
"If that's even possible. Sure the progression towards perfection is possible, but generally I see things as more of a regression into the animal state. When we do make progress it takes effort. It doesn't just happen. Do you see a problem with your family?"
"Well it's not exactly my family. But yes."
"Do you do anything about it? Have you confronted your in-laws, told them what they were doing wrong?"
"Well I’m just not sure if my opinion holds any weight with them. What if I’m wrong?"
"Doesn't matter. Say what you believe, if it’s wrong, the discussion could shed new light on a subject you previously misunderstood. If not, then the conflict will further strengthen the truth of the matter."

Order of the Phoenix

A little update for those of you who may not know: the new Harry Potter trailer will debut this Friday in front of Happy Feet. It will be made officially available online on Monday (bootlegs and such are sure to be everywhere on Friday if not earlier). Here is a sample of the official artwork (which currently doubles as my desktop, soon to be replaced in a month or so by the appropriately "decked" Great Hall). I also added a countdown to the release on the bottom of my blog, right above the artificially inflated hit counter.

On the Promenade

If you didn't know, Malibu is an island. We have our grocery store, drug store, surf shop, gym, and three coffee shops...go figure. It is an island with everything imaginable about 45 minutes off shore. The huge smog (I always want to write that Smaug) cloud to the east reminds of that daily. One of the little hot spots between here and the heart of LA is the relatively well known Santa Monica and its crown jewel, the Third Street Promenade. No cars are allowed on Third Street and on weekend nights, the place is alive with street performers, homeless, middle schoolers, and generally off the wall people. One old man always sets up a table asking for money in exchange for his psychic cat to do a reading. One old Chinese man who looks exactly Pai Mei from Kill Bill Vol 2 plays his flute in the same corner every night. You have the teenage boys doing their break dancing and acrobatic stunts. Another man traps cigarette smoke in giant bubbles and shines a flashlight on them...who thinks of this?

Last weekend I spent some time down on the promenade sipping a peppermint latte with some friends and watching people. In addition to all the usuals, we had a few first-time sightings. If you have ever been to New York or other cities w/ hoppin downtowns and lots of tourists you have probably see the talented Asian men who write your name in butterflies and birds using colorful paint and cosmetic wedges. They do it with mad speed and now I know how. They are martial artists. Their Chi is centered. Our table was across from one of these men. We hadn't paid him much attention except to remark on how little business he was getting, then it happened. He got up from his seat, stood in the middle of the road and began to do martial arts sequences ("forms" I believe they are called). Up and down the street he went jumping, kicking, punching, spinning. Passers-by were hypnotized. He had to know we were looking at him, but on he went for a good fifteen minutes. Then it was over, he packed up his belongings and left. I almost wanted to give him a tip.

As Kung Fu painter man packed up, another character passed us by. His face reflected a hard life, and his soft sustained muttering made me question his sanity. I noticed him pass a few times walking in different directions. On his third walk by he planted himself right in font of our table and turned towards us. I avoided eye-contact and realized he was looking above our heads at the McDonald's sign. His muttering grew louder, though still gibberish. A shaking finger was raised and the hardened face produced a hateful scowl. His need for dental work became apparent at such close range. I'm not sure what McDonald's had done to this guy, but it was kinda freaking me out.

We left shortly thereafter walking down an alley to our parking garage, Marcus remarked "this is just the type of alley where people get the crap beaten out of them." It was true. We passed a couple who could have gotten citations for littering AND...littering AND...smoking the reefer. Yay for marijuana. Santa Monica just passed a city-wide ordinance that cops won't bust you for possession unless they see the sale taking place...bonus...or something. That was that. I'm thinking about going back to Third Street with a notebook and voice recorder sometime on a Friday around 8 and just sitting at a table until around 1am. So much comic and literary inspiration right at my fingertips.

I got Consider The Lobster by David Foster Wallace for my birthday...not that i opened it early. What a funny guy. I missed him. I'm looking forward to some new vocab words.

Let's Talk About the Weather

It's hot here. We're all pretty confused. Right when the girls were busting out their UGS and skirts w/ leggings, right when deciding which jacket to wear (or "borrow") was starting to get fun, right after I used my comforter for the first time, it started to get bloody hot. Curses be on the Santa Ana winds. I don't know a whole lot about them, but I do know that they are HOT and DRY. They turn the whole campus into a giant allergy. The whole campus flocks to the drugstore for cold medicine, lotion, an chapstick. I moisturize nightly and my hands still feel dry. When I go out to run I get that gross cotton mouth feeling is .5 seconds. When I got here I wondered why all the mini blinds were jacked up. Where there was once wonder, there is now understanding.

It hasn't rained here in a long time. The trees don't change colors. We live in a perpetual mild summer/late spring. We are spoiled. We think temperatures only range between 60-80, so the recent venture up to 90 is just downright not OK. We don't have air conditioners. I've heard of some people buying up to four fans which they station in each corner of the dorm. What a bunch of brats we are. But even I'm annoyed and I endure 100+ degree temps for significant parts of each summer. I guess its a combination of the lack of AC and the deadening of my senses. It only gets to me because I get hot when I sleep with my sheet over me. If I have nothing over me I just feel awkward, so getting hot because of the sheet (which I simply must have) is quite a nuisance.

So to sum up, it needs to cool down, and these dry winds need to stop. We live in Malibu. Life isn't supposed to be difficult.

Look out for some crazy-people-watching stories in my next post.