Jeff and Tiffany are finally moving into their new efficiency apt. It's really cute and would be perfect for anyone single to move into as well. Too bad it's in Danville... :) No, really...who doesn't LOVE this place??

The week began beautifully. Small flecks of snow danced around my face as I wedged every last thing I own into the confines of my car. Even the goodbyes were sweet. I figured the mood would last the day, but as soon as my muffler-spewing Jimmy swept onto the interstate, excitement and freedom lifted my spirits. Visions of Woburn, Lord of the Rings, and a fireplace cluttered my mind and the drive to Greenville became phase one of my journey. Now phase two approaches me and not as welcoming. Now I have to say goodbye to my best friend. Maybe you have had to do it before. You know that what lies before you is an adventure worth taking and even mandatory, but it doesn't make the goodbyes easier. That is where my heart currently lies ~ torn between love and familiarity of the past with hope and unfamiliarity of the future.

There is something comforting about the dismal gray sky and the fluffs of white that are wisking around in the slight breeze. Perhaps its charming effects have me wrapped in the memories of snowfalls past. Maybe you remember them too. That time when Mom would retrieve the scarfs and snowsuits from the wooden chest on the back porch. Strategically she bound our bodies in the childhood scented cotton and wool. Do you remember breathing loudly through the scarfs and hearing the muffled sounds of each other as we tried to run, pant, run, trip, run, slide into the blanket of wet crystals? Who could ever think that such cold air could instantly strike tears on our cheeks? Rosy cheeked we stumbled up the stairs, stood in a puddle of water, and let Mom carefully strip our soaking bodies of its source of tremors. For now we were distinguishing the freezing from the warm and the tingling usually started in a tickle fashion, but soon felt like sharp nails were driving through the very skin of our hands and feet. But chilly as we may have been, that didn't stop Mom from taking our pudgy little hands in hers and placing them on her warm belly. Immediately the blood began to surge through us again and just in time to hear the teapot send a whistle through the air so pitched that the cats scrambling from the room in sheer annoyance and indicating that our hot chocolate was ready for consumption. Perhaps this is why I smile as I look out my window.

Okay amigos, this is more of a serious matter. I think the time has come for me to put an end to my cell phone. This is a terribly difficult thing for me to accept, but I just don't have the money as it is and a phone, unlike food, is not a necessity. So, as I embark on my journey to New Hampshire, we must communicate via email or you will have to call me at Restoration House. This sucks.

Andy Weaver. This name will mean absolutely nothing to most of you. However, it must be said that you could be missing out on one of the most acclaimed features of LCC's the Hole, which by some slight or great affiliation may have more sense to your existence than the name of Andy Weaver. Both the name of Andy Weaver and the name of the Hole are, I am sure, equally admirable. Both are small, dirty, and roach-infested. But onto more serious matters, Andy was one of the few that entertained the thought of befriending me through Einsteins and he himself working a cramped job at Cracker Barrel. I will never forget our first awkward introduction that I will spare you, my audience, the details. Here's to you lil Andy. Make what you want of college, just don't screw it up.

I sit here now in repugnant silence. I am disturbed and deafened by the sound of big screaming boys taking shots at the other animated life forms before them on the television set powered by the black and green X-Box before them. Why and how are they consumed so easily? It is a shame to see that this childlike tetosterone not only survives in my hometown with my brother and his monkey friends, but also leaks its evil tendencies into the living rooms of my peers. Confession, it has been a habit of my own to allow the monsterous affects to steal my soul. Although it is with a troubled spirit that I wish it all would just...fade away.

To Erin
Because I promised

Are they blue
Or are they green
The truth will stay
Sight unseen

The eyes, they speak
To the soul
At least we know
Hers aren't coal

Ode to the man in bald

Like a style or fad
Your hair is fading bad
The sun glistens brightly
On your bald spot unsightly

Now don't think it a shame
Balding is a claim
To the life that has been
Or the thatch that was then

Can anyone tell me the Greek view of God, man, cosmos, and death in Homer's The Odyssey? Please send me a ten page summary of your educated guess.