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