Thomas' view on Finance

It is 7:23 in College Station

I though y'all would enjoy something Thomas just said, and since I don't have twitter and I am not class of 2013 and on Facebook for 3 hours a day, I thought this would be my best option. So, after attending his seminar class, Thomas said on the topic of Finance: "I feel like finance is just a bunch of businessmen scamming each other, and then at the end there is one businessman who doesn't cover himself and gets scammed really bad". Wehner High students, take note...

My Dearest Friend.

May I tell you a story of a friend held most closely to my heart? The same friend you keep in such close proximity with yours?  And may I tell you of your first encounter? And mine? 

Yes.

Good. Now, lean in; listen closely.

The story opens with a boy that is perhaps me. Or you...

...He remembered as though it were but a few days ago that winter night, himself too young even to know the meaning of beauty, when he had looked up at a delicate tracery of bare black branches against the icy glittering stars: suddenly something that was, all at once, pain and longing and adoring had welled up in him, almost choking him.  He had wanted to tell someone, but he had no words, inarticulate in the pain and glory.  It was long afterwards that he realized that it had been his first aesthetic experience.  That nameless something that had stopped his heart was Beauty.  Even now, for him, 'bare branches against the stars' was a synonym for beauty.  

And many years afterwards, he had the privilege of encountering his newborn friend only a few more times.  To truly experience another meeting with Beauty was rare, anticipated, and as always, heart stopping.  

Perhaps for you, a midnight stroll with Beauty is found soaring above the clouds, or in the excitement of the big city, or in the invigoration of the weight room, or in the electricity of Kyle Field, or in the intrigue of philosophy, or simply in dandelions.  But for me, Beauty is clothed in a bit of plaid and possesses a knack for jinxes. 

Utterly Bewitched,

Max

 

Dual Citizenship

It is 1:35 PM in College Station,

As some of you may remember, my last post was a cliffhanger. Unfortunately, I waited too long and you all probably just fell off the cliff about 3 weeks ago. But fear not, I have returned at a moment of extreme boredom and today I will expand on my last post. Today, I will reveal to you many untold secrets of Meatland, the provice of Rec known to many of you as the "Weight Room".

For the last 3 years I have been visiting Meatland almost every day. Two years ago I earned dual citizenship there, and I consider it my home away from home. So what is this mysterious land? Meatland is a tumultuous province blessed with seeds of friendship and harmony, but also infected with strife and unrest. It is one of the few provinces in the Rec where you can find almost any sort of person you want: The Self-Conscious Freshman, The Stinky Bonfire Guy, The Only Does Bench Guy, The Flat-Bill Hurley Baseball Cap Guy, The I Think I have Cellulite Sorority Girl, The OMFG It Is Almost Spring Break Girl, and the list goes on. I have gotten a chance to get to know some of these different types of people and I will tell you today about a few of my friends--and enemies that tread the ground with me in the province of meatland.

First, I will tell you of my friend Payne. Payne is about 6'4'' and weighs about 240 lbs. His name doesn't do him justice. He is a part of the faction known as TGWAWOETJATPSTD, or Those Guys Who Actually Work Out Enough To Justify All The Protein Shakes They Drink. Payne has a large and loyal counterpart named Jason. Though Jason descends from a long line of Africans, and Payne from stout Irishmen, these two have formed a bond that shatters racism and is a spearhead for equality in Meatland. They have started a group called BEEF, which stands for Being Equal, Especially on Fridays. These two are royalty in Meatland and in the Kingdom of the Rec.

Next I will tell you of a disdainful character whose name must not be spoken. Well just call him The Turd. The Turd ventures into Meatland about 3 times a week. He almost always evades the Towel Gestapo and manages to enter the free weight area unnoticed. Once there he commits atrocious acts such as sweating profusely on benches and not wiping them off, dropping weights from above the specified height of 4.5", and grunting during adductions in his exercises. He is scrawny and is despised by almost all, save for the I Only Work Out Because I Love Northgate So Much Girls. Durign my multiple encounters with him, I and my allies have had to raise the Meat Alarm to Defcon 4. This is a serious matter whereby all free passage to the Free Weight area is halted and we must turn our efforts to defending Meatland. We do so by nonchalantly acting like we are watching the System Of a Down Music Video on the flat screen above us, but really spying on the Turd's actions to make sure he is not readying an attack. We employ other tactics such as reracking weights, which serves two purposes: Giving a good angle to spy from, and making the weight room more pleasant and organized, which is exactly the thing the Turd hopes to ruin every time he enters. The Turd is a menace to Meatland, a veritable Sadaam who seeks to destroy the hopes and dreams of all who enter Meatland.

Well that is enough for today. During my next post I am going to tell the epic saga of when Meatland was endangered by the Turd and Payne and Jason and I had to call in help from all over the rec to defend the Holy Land. Until then, I'll leave you with this

1. stay hydrated

2. always stretch before working out

3. beware of THE TURD!!!

Psyche*

That is all...

-Max

*The story of a woman so beautiful that Love itself fell in love with her.

The Battle of Frivolity

To late-night bright-light big city slickers,
or those in countries that call their pants “knickers”,
To west coast philanthropists who can’t see their children,
your life will amend as a Texas civilian,

Your absence is felt in varying degrees which lie somewhere between fondly anticipating your return and ritually lighting incense and praying in the North Spire of Solitude. I was once as you are now. And while I miss riding my bike through the German countryside, frolicking in Bonn on a busy Saturday, or working at the church with Wolfgang, it is delightful to be back in Texas. Come home soon!

This being my last Summer with limited responsibility and excess leisure time, I have been inclined to revel in it. FIFA, sunbathing, computer games, sleeping in, and wasting time do not seem so frivolous in light of the Summer. Yet today, as I was booting up Civilization IV wondering how I would lead the Americans and George Washington to use their alliances and claim victory over the Sumerians, I simply couldn't concentrate. There is more on my mind.

Between Wolfgang's angst over the European Union, Regina's heart for the Germans' lost sense of God, Friedhelm's explanation for why Germans pay triple our energy bills, and young Yani's apathy for succeeding in his corrupt school system, I realized many explicit reasons why my life is better as an American. But more than this, I have been reminded of the nature of men and our potential to cause strife.

There is something wrong with the world today, and while the simple answer is a general falling out with God, I want to know the complicated answers as well. I am in the process of studying philosophy, American government, Western culture history, global warming and energy, and a slew of other related topics. I suppose I am coming of age where Frivolity has lost its battle with my conviction that our generation has a mountain to move, and I want to be of assistance.

I have been staying rooted in Psalms, Proverbs, and reflecting on Jesus' love to keep my knowledge true. But if you happen by the Prestige at 8:30am and I'm reading about the history of Western Philosophy, don't be alarmed - My brain is just running faster these days.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."
"For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works..."

Sorry for the vague and scattered post. It mimics my thoughts.

Thomas

Land of the Interns

My first post comes from being chastised by one friend, an avid writer. But I'm not complaining because he's right, this is long overdue. So now I begin my many-fold saga.

12:15 P.M. - The PCU in Texas Children's Hospital: Houston, Texas

I flew down yesterday to visit my brother and family here in H-town. The humidity was something that I've been trying to forget while in New York, but unfortunately it was all too familiar. Connor "made history" again today as he walked all the way to the information kiosk for physical therapy. This was beyond entertaining as the scene was narrated as follows: a Thanksgiving-like procession of 6 paraded down the hallway with a wagon full of tubes and pumps. Connor deemed himself Al Roker, the physical therapists the Snoopy and Fisher-Price floats, my mom the lip-syncing celebrity and my dad the avid parade-watcher shivering inside a a holiday sweater. Mind you, Connor's actually not on drugs.

New York City: Land of the Interns

Beyond the expected celebrity sightings, the fabulous fashion, and the fast-paced days (and nights) there is a world unknown to most. This is the world as seen through the eyes of the Shoebox residents: Abbey, Paige, Courtney, and LDiva. If you haven't heard, we all sleep in a single room, two on an air-mattress, two on a full-size bed, rotating each night to ensure that each has an equal amount of back issues. We have a "full-sized" kitchen, a few overflowing closets, and a room with a couch. Though very small, I truly love it. It's our home - complete with 4 Ugly Dolls residing in the fireplace and all.

A few things I've been learning...

1. The human condition plagues the rich and the poor alike. There is no distinction.
Both the homeless and famous long to be looked in the eye for who they are. Neither of them usually are.

2. Trust God. He's got it.
The Lord has taught me to trust him with Connor and then with my life. A lesson hard to put into words. He really does have it under control.

3. We have the best group of friends in the entire world. Really. There's nothing like it.
First of all, being in New York with a cluster of us is hysterical. Secondly, I've never been loved so well.


A few more things:

1. LD's nickname, LDiva, couldn't be better. (Diva, we all can be, we admit this publicly).
2. Paige tipped a bartender in pesos Matt Pierson gave her. She didn't know. She got in trouble.
3. Matt and I end up protecting each other from interests of the same sex.

Now for some birthday commentary - It was July 6th. 21 - what up now?!

The past weekend was marked by two distinct emotions: shock and elation.
Shock: after waiting in line for Shakespeare in the Park from 5:15 am to 1 pm, Matt Pyeatt waltzed up the line shocking me with his birthday visit. For about the next 5 hours i couldn't believe that he was actually there. Once I figured it out, elation ensued. We had the best time celebrating in NYC. We explored Colombia, sat in Cathedrals, found ourselves in Harlem, and spent my 21st in a Planetarium watching "Journey to the Stars" (narrated by Whoopi Goldberg). Only Matt and Abbey.

After a 1/2 pint of Stella (I'm still a lightweight) Matt made his journey to JFK, got yelled at by a gatekeeper and helped by a stranger. I was greeted with Crumbs cupcakes, roommates, and bestie Jessie before we went to Carrera for Tapas. This being everyone else's first tapas experience i was happy to explain why they should avoid Jamon Serrado and go for the tortilla and pan con tomate. Barcelonian Stella Damm joined us for the rest of the meal as did terribly-wonderful European table service - None. We then proceeded to Hotel Jane for the bar. Friends, this is the most wonderful place - hip, old, eclectic, perfect. The kind of place that has corners for the likes of RPatt or MK&A. Though I ordered as a tribute to the Moulin Rouge, Lady Marmalade was not worth sipping- rubbing alcohol is found cheaper at Duane Reade.

A perfect 21st. Loving friends - wonderful boyfriend - and official admittance to pubs. Dark wood, I beg you, surround me soon! Oh, and Diva had to beg them to card me.

Now, the pulmonary friends summon me to my brother's report. NYC, I miss you. See you on Friday.

Abbey

Daily Struggles

13:36 (that's 1:36pm for all you americans)
CDP Advertising Agency, London

I am currently sitting at the reception desk of the agency where I have been interning. They ask me to cover the desk about twice every week for an hour...a task I have come to dread. I sit in anticipation of the phone ringing for an entire our, praying that it doesn't. Because if it did ring I would have to figure out which flashing buttons to press while screening calls and trying to understand the person on the other line (even though they are speaking english, most of the time i struggle to make out what they are saying becuase of the heavy accent and the unknown need to practically whisper into the phone) ...eek!

I am glad you all can bear this burden with me, thanks for your love and support.

It is cold and rainy here, I miss you all!

Love,

Katie

The Epistle of Brother Alexander

It’s Matins in The North Spire of Solitude.

Brethren and Sistren,

Good Tidings! In my most recent epistle, I imparted to you my desire to replace you all with new, anthropomorphic animal-friends, but in recent weeks I have repented. Rather than replace you, I have chosen to retain you, in fact, but with a new stipulation: I shall no longer be able to actually see you, physically.

Because I have taken the holy orders.

Driven by my inability to procure an internship, I have found refuge in The Moste Secluded and Holy Monastery of Our Lady of Glade Street, and am currently residing there as a monk. I was tonsured only yesterday, and, already, I am becoming acclimated to a lifestyle of asceticism. But despite what you may have gleaned from Monty Python films, the monastery is not without its pleasures, and I have chosen to focus mine energies on its positive aspects: the rather forgiving brown habit, the simple, physical labor, the happy lack of stress, and the singing to wayward Austrian children are only a few of its moste blessed boons. And just last week, sister Mary-Silas permitted me to try on her wimple! If these are not enough to make a postulant out of you, consider my daily routines:

I arise at the moste early hour of 9:00 A.M. and immediately concoct a double espresso (you will remember, of course, the monks of Capuchin, for whom that heartbeat in a mug, the cappuccino, is named)*. While enjoying our avian choristers, who are ever chirping sacred melodies from the clerestory, I practice my daily devotions.

From the hours of ten thirty to one in the afternoon, I scribble away in the North Spire of Solitude, praying fervently to the patron saint of writer’s block. I drink often and deeply from the consecrated coffee pot, and mortify mine stubborn mind my standing on my head.

This is usually followed by lunch in the refectory, where, since I live in a monastery, no television is watched. I have certainly not, in the span of one month, watched two seasons of a television show concerned with the miraculous crime-solving abilities of a forensic anthropologist named for a Cardinal Virtue. This would be sinful, and would result in my expulsion from the order.

In the afternoon, mine earthly body is committed to chores (picking apples in the orchard, laundering our habits, giving last rites to the grass before cutting it) and errands. When my time is unencumbered, I am often reading books such as the moste holy novel “How To Buy a Love of Reading” by Saint Tanya Egan Gibson or the equally holy “The Patron Saint of Liars” by Saint Ann Patchett**. In the coming days I will fortify myself in order to reade Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, which, of course, is a moste evil book. I am only reading it in order to formulate strong arguments as to why it should be burned, not for any feelings of intense pleasure or happiness.

In the evenings, I am often meeting with and witnessing to my friends who inhabit the secular sphere. Occasionally, we attend movies together, so that I might point out the evils in said films. After viewing these movies, I retreat to the monastery for a time of intense meditation and prayer, wherein I implore Our Lord to cause accidents on the set of the upcoming Judd Apatow endeavor. Such evils must be stopped.***

All in all, monastic living has been agreeable to me. I send my love to mine sisters at The Moste Crowded New York Nunnery of the Holy Trifecta, and to mine lone brother at the Praise Be To Our Lord’s Moste Wondrous Mercies Monestary in Koreatown. I am sorry I am unable to join you in person, but, until I see you again, think of me in the cloister, and when you pass the fancy shops on Fifth Avenue.

Yours Moste Humbly,

Brother Alexander.

A Moste Necessary Addendum:

It is time we all began a second round of posting on this, our blog with the interrogative title. I do not wish to see you, brethren and sistren, two months from this date, and be forced to ask “What did you do this summer?” Better, I would rather simply say, “Did you bring me any of those delightful pastries you mentioned so often?” Blessings upon you, my children.

A Moste Helpful Set of Footnotes

* This is not a fabrication, but the light of truth!

** These novels are not holy in the least, nor were they written by saints, but they were both extremely enjoyable.

***I am moste serious in this point.

Long Transit to the Land of Obama

9:44 PM (West coast...)

Hello all, 

Well I recently returned from a week long escapade to Washington D.C. for an event called Lobby Days with Invisible Children. I decided to fly out to D.C. with a standby ticket, because I saved $200. I flew from San Diego at 6am

 and got stuck in Dallas for six hours waiting for room to open up on a flight, but I finally made it to D.C. And let me tell you that DFW does not have six hours worth of entertainment to offer. Paige I hate Dallas.

So, I had to opportunity to lobby to senators and reps (but I failed to mention that I did not form part of the constituents since I am not a citizen...) oops! Well I had a blast spending the week visiting famous sights of this nation's core, visiting museums, and of course going out on the town. IC had a VIP party for celebrities and staff that attended our event. Don't worry about it...I met Owen Wilson and he's a lot shorter 

in person than I imagined. For those of you that were wondering...

Now, on my flight home. I flew out of D.C. at 6am (once again bright and early) and this time I got stuck in Chicago for 13hrs! I had no friends, no ipod, no magazines, and two hours of sleep from the previous night.  The most exciting thing that happened was that I got to watch Oprah's boyfriend, Stedman, board a flight that I deserved to be on. 

After all, I truly loved Washington D.C. and all of you Americans should be proud to have such wonderful capital. 

Love, 

Sol 

$275 one room since Aug 2009@Nagle street (Northgate area)

This is an add that I found in a bathroom stall in Blocker today. Enjoy.

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$275 one room since Aug 2009@Nagle street (Northgate area)

We have three girls now and are looking for the 4th girl for an awesome 4/2 North Ramparts apt, which has been my dream apt since I saw it two years ago.

It's located at north gate, 400 Nagle College Station, just 5 mins walking to Blocker, Zachry, Physics, and ME department. You might go home for lunch and nap everyday. It's a two stories building, the downstairs is living room, spacious for table tennis; at each side of the second floor, there're two bedrooms sharing one bathroom. Washer and dryer included. The total rent is 1250 and the lease will start since Aug. 8th. 

I am one of the three girls and my boy friend is probably going to attend A&M as a graduate student this Aug. The other two girls would like to pay half of the rent. For the other half, if my bf comes and lives in one room with me, then I would like to do reimbursement so that you only need to pay 275 for the rent, for sharing the bathroom with us.

We are Chinese, clean, easy-going, and stay on campus most of the time. I prefer nice female native speaker since I always wanted to improve my Enlgish. I am a fourth year graduate student in statistics and I would like to provide free tutoring on math or stat if you would like to come and join us :)

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it was only a week

While you may have been fooled by the picture above, I am not, in fact, spending my summer in Paris. (Though I did consider writing a cunningly deceptive blog that might attest to such an idea). I spent only a week there, and it was a memorable one, indeed. Quite unplanned, I found a ticket in March on Continental's website selling round-trip tickets at at $300-400 to France on select days in May. I eagerly purchased a seat with the tax refund on money I earned during the Bush Administration way back when, and hoped for the best. For a while there I was going alone, but I convinced my grandpa to come along with me, and he generously paid for food as well as an apartment, which was much more accommodating and weather-proof than the alternative living arrangements I had planned. After Dr. Donald Dixon/Dickson (Alex?) generously allowed me to move a final out of the way, I bid farewell to others cramming for finals in the remaining days of junior year, left College Station, and listened to French music and useful phrases on my iPod on the way to the airport.

I'll spare you all the details of my trip, but I'll share with you a few highlights and thoughts. My posts on this thing may consist of as many of my thoughts and reflections as it does what I've been doing, what time it is where I'm at, any funny stories (if at all) etc. I hope you enjoy it just as well.

We did the usual things one does when one travels to France. Toured the Louvre, ate crepes, visited the Eiffel Tower more than once, climbed the Arc and secured the photo above, looked for Quasimoto, envisioned Napoleon as Emporor when the French still liked him, made outrageous purchases on the Champs de Lesay, pictured Hemingway in the Latin Quarter writing about Jake Barnes and Lady Ashley as they attempted Parisian love, went to Omaha Beach and visited Pointe du Hoc, where Fightin' Texas Aggie Class of 1932 James Earl Rudder led a company up the cliffs to help secure the US invasion, we drank coffee and wine, spent long hours at meals, explored Versailles (secretly listening in on a Fat Tire Bike Tour) and butchered some French. It couldn't have been more picturesque. Unless, of course, it was your honeymoon or something of that nature. Regardless, it was truly wonderful.

Due to nice grandparents, an ex-girlfriend whose parents liked me, and the Texas A&M Liberal Arts Dean, I have been fortunate enough to travel to Europe four times before this trip. In the past, it was always so glamorous and new, different everywhere I went and appealing in so many ways. An escape from the boring, lifeless suburbia to the fascinating and exquisite metropolis or beautiful and quaint countryside. Traveling is fun. It always has been for me. It's a bug and you can't get rid of it. And while Paris was even more than I expected, the trip somewhat refined my approach exploring the world. As I meandered the streets of the most beautiful...eh...maybe second most...it's tough...beautiful city in the world, I became aware of the fact that cultures and sights and places can indeed be magical and may hold a special place in your heart, but in the end, they are still cultures and sights and places. The luster fades. It lets you down. What I'm saying is that we need not have an idealized sense of the Other, because the Other really has nothing captivating enough about it that will change us. Our perception of the new is as we dream it to be, and remains but a dream. People are the same. Their inclinations, interests, values, expressions, behaviors and language may be quite different, but their wiring isn't.

We are all born children of wrath, and as I became more and more surrounded by the ever-increasing secular world around me, I slowly became more and more noticing of these tendencies in me, those of the self, the diseased heart, the flesh. With a strange awareness, I identified that corrupted part of the soul that peaks its head every day. Despite the overwhelming desire that it leave you alone, it remains. Despite a deep desire to wake up to find that the self-craving has abated, it has yet to do that completely. This coupled with the knowledge that these thousands of people that I pass by every day ascribe to a lonely, secular, no-meaning, no-God postmodern worldview had me in a strange position. It wore me out, reminding me of just how dark this place really is. I honestly had a difficult time understanding how some of you made it through last summer (not to mention this summer) over there. We must struggle well.

And so this terrible dichotomy exists. On the one hand it is beautiful. It is splendid. Not to be idolized or made into something that it isn't, but beautiful for what it is in culture, taste, interaction and vitality. Yet on the other hand, it is ultimately bleak and empty. And so we must look at the vacation, the travel, the escape, the adventure with a certain lens. These getaways are meant to be enjoyed. Shared with friends or family or once in a while even on a scarce venture alone. Enjoyed for our pleasure. But never idolized. Everything exists for a purpose, and that is for the glory of the One who found us and knew us and knows us.

So I guess what I'm saying is that the next time it's the second week in October and the semester has been rough and everything is mundane, the coffee is cold or tastes bad and there's too much to get done, not enough motivation, it's still 95 degrees outside because it's Texas and you don't know what the heck you're doing in May, don't look out the window and remember where you were during the summer or two summers ago or whenever you still wish to go, and sighing, say, "If only I were there..." Watch yourself. Because regardless, There won't fulfill you. Only Texas will.





Just kidding. Really. Anyway, turn those affections where they are due. We ache for the new, and we as believers have that. All things are. The new in this world is fun for the moment, but it is certainly a fleeting one at best. And so as you intern or work or study or play, in College Station, New York City, California, Europe, the so many elsewheres, treasure these moments, but I urge you to have an appropriate sense of where you are. Don't make it into something it isn't, whether that perception is good or bad. You're about six weeks into summer. You're there for a reason; learn what you may, pray without ceasing, and love everywhere. And remember that no place or event or experience deserves our utmost affections.

This is what Paris [+Ecclesiastes] has taught me.

Still trying to see if Cypress will teach me something, too.

-Matt

traveling with the Smileys

5:07 pm.    Ko Olina Beach, Hawaii

Disclaimer:

It is strange that this is my first posting, not counting the one I made Matt write. I think my timidness is an onset of reviewing my posts from our previous summer together, which at the time I thought were sooo funny (particularly the one that I wrote only to Max with Shyler). I realize now that maybe I was too generous with my witty writing abilities in the past. Nevertheless, here I go. Y'all are my friends, right?? You have to love me.... 

Disclaimer over.

This is our last night in Hawaii. I am proud of my light summer tan, despite being out-tanned by my asian cousins. It really has been nice to relax and finish reading twilight. 

Getting here was no vacation however for the Smiley clan. I flew from NYC, leaving at 5 am after going to bed at 3 am, to meet my parents in Dallas. My dad booked this flight rather than direct because he figured I wouldn't want to miss traveling with the family... riigggghhhttt

My leg from NYC to Dallas started out all wrong. I fell asleep waiting for my flight only to be awaken at the last moment by a voice over the intercom saying, "Last call for Smiley." I ran frazzled, half-drooling to board. As I passed first class, still half-asleep, I noticed an open seat, which I promptly took. I tried to look cool. It seemed to be working until I heard the flight attendant talking to a man I couldn't see saying, "Sir, all of our first class seats are full. Are you sure this is your ticket?" 

Sh*t. 

Well, I enjoyed the rest of my flight in coach and was glad to get off as quickly as possible in Dallas. A couple hours later, my family joined me. Everyone, minus J.D.   I later found out through sobs from my mother that J.D. was taking the SAT, which finished at 1pm and was catching the flight after ours out of DFW (50 min away from SAT site) at 2:20 pm. The Jude was a basket-case to say the least.

When J.D. finally met up with us in LA, we found out that he did not get out of his test until 1:30, and was driven by my cousin, Savannah, in the Volvo at top speed. He barely made it. Judy stopped crying finally though.  J.D.'s not sure he did so well on the last few sections. Pray. We want him to be an Aggie.

Aboard our flight from LA to Honolulu, we met a family just like our family only 15 years younger...weird. The three kids were all blonde and blued eyed. The oldest girl was 5, followed by 2 younger brothers, two years a part. The oldest girl was the smartest, most beautiful, and a little bossy, naturally (me). The middle brother was quiet, but deadly. We watched him punch an unsuspecting stranger in the back of the leg and smile innocently when the man turned around ready to kill the offender (clay). The youngest was all over the place. He explored everywhere and everyone. At one point, as the parents tried to rest for mere seconds, the baby took his bottle and dumped all the contents on his head, while giggling (J.D.). They brought us tons of entertainment! At one point, the girl informed me, in a loud voice on the airplane, that she had been stung twice by jelly fish last time she went swimming...once in the stomach and once on the VAGINA (not me)! I think 15 heads turned our way and J.D. nearly peed his pants. Y'all, these poor parents just looked ragged. Let's all wait just a little while longer before we have kids. No, Katherine. I'm not siding with you now!

I love you guys and miss you terribly.

Love,

Paige

My Study Abroad Program at the Rec

It is 1:20 AM in College Station, Texas

Howdy friends,



I was just over at the Tallahassee eating some Baklava that Zach so bribingly prepared and we were talking of the blog, when I decided, hey it's time for another post. So, prepare yourselves, this is a long one.

As many of you know, my adventures are quite different than many of yours. I get dehydrated and hike around in circles in the panhandle of Texas. You take scenic tours around the Louvre and refresh yourselves with some wine. I go to sleep in Big Bend and hope to not wake up with a Rattlesnake on my face or a druglord in my car. You go to sleep in a Swiss hostel and hope to not wake up with Bastian the uberraver thrusting his pelvis in your face while Katrina is in the corner praying to the god of the trees. I enjoy backpacker meals around the campfire, you enjoy a crepe in Marseilles. I don't travel around a whole ton, but it's OK. I'm just saving up for the new slip 'n slide on the roof. I love to hear about all of y'all's adventures around the world, and I am sure that some day I will be there too, enjoying it as much as y'all are. I also know that all of you American citizens (except Sol) out there hold a dear place in your hearts for our great state. And as usual, I am going to remind of how amazing our state really is. I am going to tell you why you don't necessarily have to go around the world to "be abroad".

My abroad kindgom is our very own Texas A&M Recreational Center. As you know, I spend an average of 7 hours a day at the rec. This number has increased to 9 hours in the summer due to a lack of things to do at home ( I mean how much dry cleaning and grocery shopping can you really force into one week). In a week at the rec, I usually work out 12-14 times, swim 7-11 times, and play about 17 hours of soccer. That is enough time to learn about what the rec really is, under its friendly and shallow facade.

What hidden mysteries lie beneath the gaudy maroon paint, and the rubber floor? Who are these people we see every time we walk in? What is their purpose in the Rec? I am going to tell you about a place that you think you know of, a place you think you have been to, a place you think you have seen. I have delved into daily life at The Rec for the last three years. I have paid my dues to become a citizen. A citizen of one of the most diverse kindgoms in the world. I know so much about the place that you don't. I know who reigns o'er the province of Meatland. I know who has evaded their towel tax, only to be caught by SWAT (Sweaty Woebegoners Are Toast). Over the next few posts, I am going to make you forget the simple Rec you know of. I am going to show you what the Rec really is. The hidden intricacies of diplomacy, politics, and civil strife. I am going to show you that the Rec really is a kingdom much deeper and more convoluted than you thought it was. I am going to reveal to you a world of its own a world called... THE REC.

Now, before the epic stories begin, it is very important that I convey some logistics of the Rec to y'all. These facts are vital for the stories you will hear and the people you will come to know. So, soak these facts in, and savor them, these are facts unknown to 97% of the people who pass through the kingdom itself.

• Name: Kingdom of the Rec
• Geography: three story, 14.7 Acres, landlocked by the state of Texas, USA
• Politics: Consociational state, which as defined by wikipedia, is "a state which has major internal divisions along ethnic, religious, or linguistic lines, with none of the divisions large enough to form a majority group, yet nonetheless manages to remain stable, due to consultation among the elites of each of its major social groups".
• Economy: Consists of trade between citizens of items such as balls, towels, power bars, and high fives.
• Taxes: $18 per semester for a towel card, which permits a citizen to enter the Meatland Province. $30 per semester for a locker which protects a citizen from theft and makes them a landowner, thus giving them the right to vote on issues such as Pool Hours and Raquetball Court Revamping
• Population: 0 to 713 persons
• Capital: Front desk
• Demonym: Meathead, Baller, Athlete
• Currency: $, Power bars, towels, butt slaps, high fives: exchange rate is as follows: $1=1.5 Power bars=.7 towels=134 butt slaps=762 high fives (quickly becoming obselete, but still accepted)
• President: Vince
• Provinces: Meatland, Lobbia, Raquetbolland, Badmintonia, Basktugal, Soccernesia, Natatorea, Trackrica, and New Natatorea (see map below)

I hope that quick synopsis of The Rec Kingdom has helped you understand what this foreign land is all about. It is an interesting land. One full of adventures. Not a land for the meek or weak willed. In fact meekness in Basktugal or Soccernesia can get you ostracized. Citizenship in these regions is difficult to achieve. The citizens there are arrogant and snobbish, and it takes the bravest soul to intrude into their regions to play their games. Once in though, a veritable Pandora's box is opened, and one is flooded with all sorts of odd languages, hand gestures, and displays of immortal skill known only to many as unachievable. The characters I have met there are men of all shapes and sizes and colors. But the sagas of these characters must wait for another day. But, do not fear, considering how bored I am on a daily basis, you will all soon meet my friends... and my enemies... from the Kingdom that is....THE REC!!!

WOW!! PLEASE LOOK!

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/127/354456061_b450da155f_o.jpg

Dear friends,

This is too good for me to not show you...

I was bragging to the people at work about our Aggie Rings, so I naturally googled some pics..

This is worse than Kate Gosselin's hair, Max.

Matty

Bike Tour with Wolfgang

A picture for your enjoyment. Wolfgang is like a 60 year old version of Dave on a sugar high. This is a picture from our 8 hour bike ride to Remagen and back. Right now he's climbing a 4000 meter mountain with his brother in Italy.


Love,
Thomas and Wolfgang

Hello from across the pond!

My fellow Americans,

I am happy to report that I have safely arrived in London and have been here for just over a week now. I am living in a dorm (hey freshman year!) and my roommate is a fellow aggie named Aimee. We occupy a very small space but do get our own locked cubbie in the community refrigerator so thats nice. We live on the 13th floor and have a great view of the city, the area we live in is very urban and kind of reminds me of NYC.

I started my internship yesterday at an advertising agency and really like it. Its a small office and the people are really nice, laid back, and fun. They all like to say the F-word a lot but it doesn't seem so bad in the British accent. The office is in Soho and is surrounded by tons of great places to eat lunch, I had an awesome burrito for lunch today from a stand down the street, the first real tex mex food I have found thus far. The commute to work is only about 20-25 minutes. All I have to do is walk down the street to King's Cross Station, go to platform 9 3/4 (not really, I take the Piccadilly line), and ride the tube to Piccadilly Circus where I get off and walk a couple minutes to the office. All the tube workers are going on strike for the next two days, which means no underground trains running at all, so we'll see how happy I am about my commute on Friday.

All last week was orientation for the program I'm doing. We did a lot of sight seeing with my program and on our own so that was good. Here are a few highlights:

The Tower of London-lots of beheading and murder went on there

Parliament & Big Ben- its my favorite at night when its all lit up

The London Eye- very big and very slow

Westminster Abbey- very beautiful

Greenwich-home of time, the prime meridian, & longitude (the last picture is of Aimee & me in the 2 different hemishperes)

Hyde Park & Kensington Gardens- we flock there when the sun shines

Trafalgar Square- got to watch a ballet on a big screen there one night

other thoughts:

-I am constantly dodgeing/shrieking/flinching at every pigeon that comes within 3ft of me

-if I blow or wipe my nose black stuff comes out b/c of all the dirt & smog (NYC people: try this)

-I hope I don't have lung cancer when i get back from second hand smoke

-I need more skinny jeans & black clothes so I can blend in

-the Queens birthday is Saturday, we're going to the parade

I miss you all terribly and can't wait to see your lovely faces again soon (can you tell I'm picking up a British accent??) There is a 6 hour time difference between here and Texas but I am on skype whenever I am in my room. I love keeping up with the blog and hearing your voices come out of my computer screen as I read your words. I'll keep you updated, I love you all!

I'm Winning!

11:50 PM Highland Village, Tx

45 degree knee bend.  More exciting than Alex's soon-to-be NY adventure.  But not more exciting than Heidi and Spencer's wedding.  Or the fact that Twilight won Best Kiss and Best Movie against the gay guys in Milk and the rest of the cast of Milk at the MTV Movie Awards.

Yes, even more exciting than the man on TV with the green question mark jacket that teaches people how to get money from the government. 

And definitely not more exciting than this...

Miss you guys.  I found this picture today during my break between trying to get money from the government and figuring out a solution to my latest quandary*. 

*Hypothetically, if you had a tattoo on your back that your mother didn't know about but you're about to go on a cruise so she's going to find out, what would you do?  This could get worse than Jon and Kate's situation.  And I'm not just talking about Kate's hair (AHHH!).  

-Rabbit

P.S. Congrats Alex.  Thats very Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

Die Deutsche Essen

Dearest friends. From this long time apart, I have become slowly reminded that I do, indeed, miss you all. Yet I rarely have cravings for you like I do my favorite foods - and it is this tangible lack of fulfillment of the 5th most important of my senses that has brought me to write today.

(First of all, I shall henceforth refer to Germany as Deutschland {and subsequently Italy as Italia and Japan as Nipon}).

Anyways, there is no spicy food in Deutschland. One can buy the "HOT!!!" mexican salsa at the supermarket if he is looking to enjoy a sweet tomato sauce. So anyone with the capability to purchase spicy food, don't take it for granted!

The week I came here I had a cold/allergies and was drinking five or six quarts a day to help the situation. Barbara (my Deutsche Mother {pronounced Bah-bah-rwah}) told me that drinking more than 3 liters (God bless the metric system) of water a day makes it hard for your heart to pump blood. I told her that if this were true, I had a certain friend named Kelly who should certainly be dead.

Today, Barbara and papa Friedhelm came back from the store with some asparagus. Having experienced (and disliked due to their wormy consistency) boiled asparagus already, I told Barbara I was not only knowledgeable but capable of cooking lightly oiled and garlic-salted asparagus on a grill. She thought we could give it a try, but that it sounded really fatty. She then proceeded to cook an un-fatty 2-course meal of French Fries and radishes.

So Deutschland may be beautiful and rich in culture, but the eating over here is nothing if not quizzical.

I had a Texas BBQ Burger at the Big Apple Grill last night though, so I should be okay until July. Prestige - make sure there's some good salsa in the fridge. Next post - my bike tour with Wolfgang (for real).

Es freue mich, dass ich euch bald sehen soll,

Thomas

Stilettos in Harlem

12:04 am

Fellow Texans,

We just realized that we have miserably failed as friends for taking so long to post on our infamous blog. I can't wait for Smithie to catch up on what I'm doing in the city this summer. So, we are going to give you the highlights since we have done so much.


May 21: I (Matty) arrives in NYC. After setting my bags down and unloading my belongings in the shanky apartment, which happens to be conveniently located in Koreatown, I hit the streets. Across from my apartment is Herald's Square, which happens to be quite busy most of the day. I noticed a plastic duane reade bag tumbling toward me. Being the earth friendly and southerner that I am, I played cat and mouse with the plastic bag until I was able to swoop down and properly dispose of the distasteful littering in the closest trash can. All the while, a "new yorker" passed by me, ipod in ear, saying "new to the city, huh?" Bummer, just because I was trying to clean up my new home, I get called out for doing a good deed and gaining more jewels on my crown...how rude. It's going to be a long summer.

Paige arrives in all her glory on May 24th. Dressed in business professional and ready to tackle Wall Street investment banking industry. Unfortunately, after sitting through a myriad of office visits, she has decided to continue on with Tell Your Story...for life.

Escapade #1 - My Dominican Republic landlord starts causing all kinds of trouble, so TP starts looking for a new apartment for me. I get a phone call from my dad telling me I need to go see the new apartment at 8pm located on 116th st. I live on 35th. Being new to the city, neither Paige or I knew where we were going, but we were looking good. Paige recently made a new purchase at Nordie's for some new pumps. She decided to break them in on our adventure this evening. When she met me at my apartment, the back of her heels were raw and we had a FEW blocks to travel. Luckily we made it to the subway and got off on 116th st. The surprise: when we emerged from the murky underground, we happened to find ourselves in Harlem. Yes, Harlem. After I moved my wallet to the front pocket we began our trek another 4 blocks. Well, Paige unfortunately couldnt make it all the way, so I PIGGY-BACKED HER for rest of the way. Just so you know, we were surrounded by Sol's relatives and no one spoke English. We looked ridiculous of course.

Escapade #2 - Paige has a book that she received from our beloved Rachel Toppert that has all the "hot spots" to the city. She dragged me and two other poor souls from Aggies on Wall Street to the best taco bar in New York City. The place was called La Esquina. We WALLLLLKKED 30 blocks to get there. It was ridiculous and all of us were starving. Like every escapade with Paige, the location was a little miscontrued. We couldn't find the taco bar...until we turned around and noticed a closed Mexican shack with "The Corner" written on one side translated into "La Esquina" on the other. Literally, homeless people sleep there during closed hours. Thus, we walked back until we found a nice Italian restaraunt that satsified our hunger.

Escapade #3 - With Paige and I in the city, you know we have a few stories. Once she arrived in her barracks, she noticed she needed a few things: a pillow, blankets, sheets, towels, shampoo, conditioner, and a hair dryer. All that space for those damn stilettos. We tackled the city as soon as we could, but put off finding a blanket until 10:30 that evening. We went Sleepy's, a closed Bed Bath and Beyond, a Duane Reade, and closed Yankee store hoping for some fan memorabilia. We made our way to Times Square because we knew we could find something down there. The Hard Rock Cafe might have blankets, but no. We get so desparate for Paige to have a warm and comfortable night, that we marched into a Hilton hotel. We spoke to the two men at the front desk and tried to barter for a blanket. We offered to bring it back the next day..they weren't giving it to us. We contemplated going up on the elevator and stealing a blanket from the maid's cart. But, since we are trying to be the lights in this dark city, we chose not too (again..jewels on the crown). Luckily, we found an open Walgreens that happened to have blankets that wouldn't even cover my legs. So we bought two and called it a night.

Escapade #4 - Abbey and I went to have a night together in Central Park...minus the picnic and the wine, or any kind of romantic setting Matt. After we sat there for a while we made our way to Union Square. In the square we noticed a rally was taking place, so like tourists we ran acorss the street to find out what was going on. Signs reading, "free hugs here" were all over the place. I always love a good hug from a sweaty stranger. As we creeped closer, we noticed that it was a group of 14-17 year old kids. Oddly enough, they were all dressed as punk rockers and dancing without any music. Not an ihome or anything in sight....just dance. As we gazed in amazement at what we assume was a drug rally for people on ecstacy, we found their leader. He was a skinny lad that was carrying a pineapple. As he raised his pineapple, which had glow sticks shooting out of the top, the crazed teens started yelling. It was one of the most bizarre scenarios I have ever been a part of. But, I've joined the group and look forward to our next rally.

On Monday, LD got here and we went to Seredipity's. We met up with two of Abbey's friends from home and had a really good time.

Last night was my company's first event and LD and her friend Kate were able to come. I gave them VIP bracelets and they shopped the newest and coolest fashions this side of the Red River. Along with the perks of a VIP bracelet, they received a VIP gift bag. Inside: $50 gift certificate for a waxing and "dotted" condoms, which happen to be better than the ribbed kind according to the people from Jersey that I work with. Sketch.

Well, it's getting somewhat late and we are all pretty tired from the day, so that's all we have for now. We are trying to get better about updating our stories so that we can keep you updated.

We miss and love all of you,

Matt, LD, Abbey, and Paige

3:20 am at The Callaway House

I finished my 6 mile route for the first time in weeks this morning. I even pwnd (past) 3 n00bs (fellow runners) along the way. [I hope that this last sentence made you smile, Dave]. Even so, by the last mile my right knee was aching and there was no doubt (nor regret) in my mind that I was doing myself more harm than good.

As many of you know, I plan on working as much as possible this summer. Occasionally I become frustrated. During these times part of me is tempted to value the time I spend working no higher than my hourly wage. However, I am fighting to remain optimistic and so far I have not been entirely disappointed.

Things have really slowed down for us at Starbucks. Although this can make time drag a little, it gives us baristas an opportunity to interact with customers in a way that we normally would not be able to. Today, as I prepared his drink, I became engaged in a highly beneficial conversation with a customer. After inquiring about the state of his day and receiving a brief response, I went on to talk about my run this morning. I described it as AWESOME, with the exception of my knee problem. By the time his drink was ready, I had a list of symptoms, a diagnosis, and a prescription for stretches. The lady whose drink followed his also prescribed Bengay and shunned me for not stretching before and after my runs.

Due to College Station’s summer population deflation, I am needed less at Starbucks and have ended up working more at Callaway. Working nights severely affects my sleeping pattern and it isn’t until I’ve established a set schedule that things start to stabilize for me. Without sleep, I am a cranky, moody, caffeined up version of myself that can barely function, let alone talk or think. Fortunately, things have worked out well and I am getting close to 8 hours of sleep daily.

Working at The Callaway House is relatively effortless. During the summer, all I have to do is remain conscious, slowly converting oxygen into carbon dioxide behind the front desk. I have done quite a bit of reading here, however as 4:00 am approaches my brain shuts down and I usually resort to online episodes of The O.C. and Arrested Development.

I am looking forward to seeing all of you soon. Until then,

Love,
Greg

Ode to Summer School

It is 3:32 PM and I am sitting in Langford

I can't understand my professor
I am wishing he was from Odessar
But he's from Iran
At least a nice man,
He could be a theocratic oppressor

"Real World" San Diego

Hello to all, 

I can't make this blog very long because I have to go to bed early so I can be ready for work tomorrow, but I wanted to catch you guys up on how San Diego has been treating me. I thankfully made some new friends on my first day here (thank goodness...) So what have I been up to? Well, there's an ex IC intern who works at a surf camp here, so on Sunday morning we woke up early and headed to catch some waves. I saw some seals and a pack of dolphins while I was waiting for some waves! It was epic.  I also went to some outlet malls, and I literally could see Mexico from inside Banana Republic while I shopped. Weird. 

So, I am living in a house that can hold up to 50 people and it really has been like being on the Real World. Everyone here is super cool, which makes the living situation great. Today was the first day of training at the office and it felt a little unreal that I was really at the IC headquarters with the co-founders who were just on Oprah. Needless to say, I'm really enjoying this internship and it sounds like everyone is having a great summer so far. I really miss you guys and don't worry I am not going to trade you guys for my new Cali friends. :)

Besos, 

Solie

Kneeever been better!

Alex is right.  We should blog more about the late Mr. Updike!  So, since we’re talking about rabbits, oxycontin, hydrocodin, phenergan (for nausea) have kept this rodent living, loving, and living although he is no longer running.

 

Surgery (if you don’t know what kind, you can consider yourself worse than smithy) went well, although I discovered anesthesia makes me itchy.  Like pollen.  And cats.  I told that nurse I was allergic to cats.

 

I’ll spare you all the details, but there was a not so small (in diameter and length) hose that went under my ace wraps and into my leg a few inches under my knee that fed into a plastic container.  The container acted as a suction device that extracted the excess blood and liquids from my post surgery knee.  I would have to occasionally empty out the blood myself because blood makes Jesse feel weird.  Hassle.   

 

Rehab has been getting pretty intense and not as fun as I imagined it would be.  My exercises are simple, but painful enough to make me appreciate my patella and my brand new anterior cruxiate ligament.  This rabbit’s redux has been going well though.  To prove it, let me tell you about my visit to the doctor’s office last week.  My doctor is a very kind man and extremely encouraging.  He told me warmly that I’d be off my crutches by this weekend.  Bullshit, I said in reply.  And instead I got off my crutches two days ago.  So far, I’m 3 days ahead of schedule.   

 

I’ve included my knee log.  It is based on the degree to which I can bend my knee.  Golf rules apply.  

 

5/19: 180 degrees. (Perfectly straight)

5/20: 150 degrees.

5/23: 120 degrees.

5/24: 150 degrees.  (I dropped a bottle on my knee.  Hurt like hell.)

5/28: 100 degrees.  (The day I got off the crutches)

5/30: 89 degrees. (Andy’s birthday)

 

Additionally, I’ve watched the entire first season of Arrested Development, hung out with Jesse (age 9) a lot, and watched full seasons of Hannah Montana, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and an assortment of Disney made for TV movies.  I’ve also been managing my WebKinz account on the side.

 

Thanks to everyone who prayed for me.  I love you guys and can’t wait to see most of you in College Station soon.

May I leave you with this:

"I knew three things.  Edward was a vampire.  Edward wanted insatiably to kill me and drink my blood.  And, I knew I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him." 

-Girl from Twilight regarding Edward after their 3 day acquaintance

My teen angst was a little different, but still relatable.

-Rabbit

2:15 College Station, Texas

Believe it or not after you left, there has not been too much to blog about. I decided to spare you what I learned during hours spent watching Planet Earth (did you know a blue whale's heart weighs 5 tons!), and what roads are currently closed for the never ending construction that defines transportation in college station (Highway 6 south near the rock prairie exit) .

The one speck of excitement on a horizon of mundane has been my father. As many of you know the man borders on paranoid at best. He has been trying to bribe me into taking a concealed handgun course all summer and is also the man who gave me my100,000 watt taser for my birthday, did I mention he also owns one?

The other day, in an overtake of paranoia my dad started to question the actual effectiveness of his taser and decided a performance test was necessary. Naturally the best place for such a test was the laundry room. Despite my mother's pleas of "don't be an idiot, Harry!" my dad tasered simply the TOUNGE OF HIS TENNIS SHOE. I heard a quick swear word from my father a scream from my mother and then a deffining crash (imagine dave's sound effect reindition of a refriderator falling down a mountain and landing on another car). What I walked in on was my dad laying spread eagle against a washing machine slammed halfway through the laundry room wall. Turns out the shock had sent him flying straight into the machine wich inturn had gone almost straight through the wall. My dad laid on the floor laughing for about 5 min. (I think to hide the fact that he couldn't get up). Apparently, he was unable to feel his fingers and toes for the rest of the night. My mom spent the remainder of the evening trying not to laugh and repeteldy reminding him that he was in fact, an idiot.

Dave I completely concur, we should spend as much time with our parents, "They are really interesting" but i don't know if I can say that "they always know more than we do"

katherine

Ich verstehe nur Bahnhof

An excerpt full of excerpts, read as you will:

May 20 , German Dance Lessons

At about 1 am in the student-club "Das Ding" ('The Thing') hanging out with my new friend Melanie on her birthday, and dancing next to my boy, Florian, to the Backstreet boys, I realized some cultural differences you should know about.

First, it is acceptable to dance by yourself in a corner even if you aren't waiting on your friend to get back from the bar. Second, a group of guys can still freak dance each other for a fifteen second gag as we (atleast I) used to do in high school. Third, if the music gets a little slow, it is acceptable to link arms with all your friends and sway back and forth in a circle. Fourth, if a rock song or another difficult-to-dance-to song is played, it is lots of fun to try and waltz to it!


May 25 , Hot Trains and Crazy Kings

Despite the great advances in alternative energy and energy policy in Germany, they still can't afford to air condition their trains (thank God in your prayers tonight for America's coal plants, I'll clarify later if you want). Thus Katie (who flew in on the 23rd) and I arrived in Fuessen Germany a bit hot and bothered. Two days later it was foggy and 50 degrees though, so we forgave Germany.

We saw the iconic castle, Neuschwanstein, (which means New Swan Stone) built by Ludwig the Mad. Swans were his favorite animal, and he also liked Lederhosen and Dark Beer, and looking at the Alps from his castle window. Anyway, Ludwig was assassinated by his psychiatrist in the middle of a Lake (for the good of the kingdom of Bavaria) but his castle remains one of the most famous in the world. All you Disney World people - does it look familiar?


May 28 , Glockenspiel and Mass

Glockenspiel - a large clock tower with dancing figures and bells (but no clock).
Mass - a large beer stein holding a whole liter of German Beer


Katie and I witnessed both of these large things in our trip to Munich. The glockenspiel takes 8 minutes and the Mass about an hour, but both leave you a little disoriented. For anyone seeking a cultural, historic, fun, clean, safe and beautiful city, visit Munich at least once in your life. It is a tie for my favorite city with London.


May 30 , Home in Hennef

And now we sit in the Kossmanns wonderful home, soon to play a rousing game of settlers of catan - a game I will bring home for us to all learn and enjoy together for hours of revelry and laughter. As captivating as four on a couch, brainy as Catch Phrase, and Strategic as Risk. Think about it.

To all our friends - we both miss you dearly. However I miss everyone about 11 days more than Katie does, if you were wondering.

To Texas - despite the great weather, I miss the Texas heat and swimming now and again.

To all those hitherto associating with squirrels, badgers or other animals - You may be drinking too much coffee and sitting too many hours in the dark corner of Starbucks with a raised eyebrow at all the animals. Be careful.

And to all who read this, Tschuess, Caio and Auf Wiedersehen.

With Love,

Thomas and Katie

Another Texas Escapade

It is 5:34 PM in Fort Worth, Texas



It is my pleasure to return to our omnipresent blog. I just got back from camping with my dad at a place called Caprock Canyon. It is just another checkpoint on my mission to discover all things great about our oh so great state.

I decided about 3 months ago that I wanted to take a trip with my dad because I felt like I was coming to a place where I was really starting to appreciate everything my dad has done for me and I wanted to just hang out with him for a while and soak in more of his fatherly wisdom. So, after talking for about 3 hours this past Friday night, we decided to go a place called Caprock Canyon State Park in the panhandle of Texas. We figured it wouldn't be too crowded and it wouldn't be too far to drive, but the scenery would still be amazing. We were right.



We got there on Sunday morning and began our hike to our primitive campsite with a thunderstorm threatening. We started on our 7 mile hike around 4 PM. We had seen a little spot on the map about halfway down the trail called "FERN CAVE". My dad made some corny joke like "Man, Fern must have done something amazing to get this cave named after her..." I replied that maybe there were ferns in the cave. But after being sucked dry for about 2 hours and seeing nothing but cactus, red dirt, and mesquite trees, we figured there was no way in hell that there were anything even resembling ferns in a place whose annual rainfall is probably beat out by College Station's humidity on any given day. Sure enough though, as we approached the sign that said "Fern Cave", we could see different shade of green up ahead. We walked into what was really more of an overhang than a cave. The walls were covered in ferns hanging upside down and there was water dripping out of the walls. It was like we walked into a rainforest in the middle of the desert. I guess because we did. It was gnarly. We hung out there for a while and then hiked back to our campsite.

Another cool experience of the trip was the lightning. Every night when the sun went down, there was lightning on the horizon. You could barely ever hear any thunderor feel any rain , but there was always lightning. That was cool. I also almost stepped on a rattlesnake. I also almost fell off the roof about two weeks ago while cutting down a tree (that's kind of beside the point, but I thought y'all might like to know).

I could write more, but that would be too much. I just wanted to write about the Fern Cave because it was so weird. The trip was a great experience overall. I had a blast with my dad. We talked about tons of things. The topics included but were not limited to:

1. Switzerland
2. Psychic powers
3. The United States transportation system
4. Indians
5. Presidents
6. Spinal Tap
7. The effect of refrigerated air on South Texas lifestyle
8. Lobotomies
9. Human reflexes
10. Peanut, Canola, Vegatable, and Olive oil
11. Popcorn
12. A gravity-suspended, earth-circumventing bridge (thank you Thomas)
13. Dream analyzation
14. Space stations
15. Different cooking properties of Cedar vs. Mesquite wood

In all, it was an awesome experience. I am lucky to have a dad like I do, and I suggest to all of you out there to hang out with your parents a little more and learn as much as you can from them, because they really are interesting and know a lot more than we do. Until my next hospital visit,

Dave "an alive and kicking squirrel" Burkett

A Heartbreaking Letter about Squirrels

It's 11:10 A.M. at The Bookstore.

Dear Everyone*,

The recent dearth of posting has been, at the very least, deplorable. "Execrable" may perhaps be more fitting, but I found "reprehensible" too kind for you villains. Indeed, each one of you is behaving like a gluttonous story-squirrel, burying away the chestnuts of narrative under the cold snows of selfishness. How am I to know, squirrel-friend, about the health of your whiskers? Or about the bushiness of your tail? For all I know, your respective trees have been logged and shredded, and you and your squirrel-family lie flattened on a highway, your once glossy fur now imprinted with the cruel treads of a tire. I can no longer stand the sense of abandonment. Therefore, I have decided to find new friends.

Looking around the bookstore, I see a myriad of options. First, there is Richard, who, like a wise and friendly badger, serves my coffee every morning with gentle questions and sound advice. Richard's flattop and his penchant for hearty fruits (he is always trying to sell me a fruit salad, which I occasionally buy) add to his badger-like appearance. Additionally, most of the badgers I have known allow me to write reviews for the books in their stores. Richard has kindly chosen to do the same, showing him a true badger. He is option #1.

My second candidate for friendship is a woman I shall call Luna, though I do not know her name. From time to time, Luna meets older, wealthy white women in the café and speaks Spanish to them for an hour or so. I assume that they are paying her for her services, though it is possible she is just extremely friendly. She is a lovely woman and says "¡muy bien!" so emphatically, and with such an encouraging warmth, that I have chosen to think of her as a golden retriever. Every thirty seconds or so, she must fetch the wayward sentences of these women and bring them back, clutched gently between her jaws to the mesa. She reminds me of someone I used to know, before the great blog-nut-fallout of 2009, but the name escapes me. She is option numero dos.

Another bookstore employee, Kathy, also promises potential. So often I have seen her fluttering about her corner of the store, taking frightened customers under her wing and gossiping loudly about the books she's read lately. This practice is made all the juicier by the area in which Kathy works: Romance Novels. The entire section is labeled "Kathy's Picks," because she has read every book, cover to glossy cover. Because of her rapid head-movements and feathered gray hair, Kathy reminds me most of a woodpecker. I have considered re-naming her section "Kathy's Pecks," but Richard has not yet granted me this measure of power. He will soon see reason. She is option # 3.

So, squirrel-friends, if any of you are indeed still alive, I would consider your advice regarding my new companions. They seem like lovely people, the lot of them, and I'm sure that once we start chatting about John Updike's recent demise, the conversation will keep flowing, like a stream of pecans from a nut-laden tree.

Post, or I'll Flatten You Myself,

-A.

* This excludes you, Smithy.

21.25 Uhr auf Deutschland

Guten Tage Alles,

Ich bin jetzt sicher in Deutschland, und auch sehr muede. Jetzt schlafe ich.

Bis Morgen,

Thomas

And then there was one.

11.31 am: Right where I should be.

Now that finals are done and summer has officially begun, it's time to ask my favorite question again: what time is it where you are? It seems like it has been a lot less than a year when we sat around arguing whether we should call this blog "The Peda-files" or "Home Keys on the Left Hand" or something to do with Pangea (possibly my personal favorite.) Either way, the year is over and here we are again. I know that some people, including myself, have the distinct privilege of being in school for an extra year but no matter how you look at it, this is the last year where things will be how we have known them to be.

After this year, people start heading off in their own directions, getting jobs, getting married, or just getting old. All three for some.

After this year we will look back and say: "Remember when we were in college?" "Remember when we used to have pizza parties just because we could?" "Remember the foam party?" "Remember doing nothing all the time and thinking we were stressed?"

After this year afternoon naps become a thing of the past. (Unless you work for Google or Zappos, that is.)

So this year let Facebook talk to itself, let the rest of the Internet suck someone else's soul, and give your TV a break. Instead, let's make this year the year we look back on when we are old.

And with this post, let the blogging begin.


aaron