fadedmemories

over and out.

2006-09-24T20:58:00.000-04:00

switching over to my website fulltime now. i'm going to miss this blog. it has been a great outlet for me... but we are leaving fadedmemories behind and are beginning "whatever... wherever".

ooh. how exciting. shoot me an email if you'd like my website address. until we meet again.

farewell, and may grace and peace abound!

winding down.

2006-08-31T12:56:00.000-04:00

so, it has been over a month since i've posted anything. while much has happened during this time, i do not feel it has warrented a 'post'. besides, simply knowing i will have to leave this blog once i go overseas hasn't given me much motivation to continue my writings. this blog's end has been for some time now. i've still got 40 days till departure, so i will not end it quite yet. i will leave occasion for yet another writing, but nothing to promise.

we will see.

being defined by our things.

2006-07-17T23:12:00.000-04:00

i've often heard that people are defined by the things that they own. that what we are passionate about can be summed up by the things that we spend money on. if this is in fact true, then right now i am not much. or at least it doesn't look like it. i am stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes. sitting in my parents basement, no less. presently my life has been compressed into many, many small cubes, compartmentalized by their contents, which have been arranged by function, or by their similarity in function with other objects.

it's quite interesting moving places of residence. i like to be organized as it is, or should i say i like for things to have their own place. so when i put everything i own into a place that is not it's own, essentially into the same place, i didn't really enjoy the thought of it. Everything seems, well, out of place.

but, i do enjoy the idea of it. the idea that all this 'stuff' doesn't have a real place anymore. That now it really does belong in a box somewhere. because in truth, most of it is just plain useless anyway. items that have been collected, consequences of living in one place for 4 years.

but what i like even more, is the fact that i get to leave it all behind. that now, since these objects have found their place in the anonymity of a wall of cardboard, they no longer have significance. they have lost their place. making it easier for me to leave them behind.

easy or not, though, i can't take it all with me anyway. Because you see, moving to another country puts many limitations on one's idea of how many things they actually need to be comfortable, to live, to survive.

i love it. not having things, yet having the ability to be mobile. to travel light. To travel vulnerable. Leaving behind your blankets of security, the things that we folded nicely into boxes. Traveling to expose yourself to a world that you so desperately want to return the favor.

The favor of shedding the ‘stuff’ that builds these cardboard box walls between us. Breaking down these barriers that are nothing but stuff in a box. In order to leave behind something more meaningful and valuable than anything we could find to fill them with.

The heart.

rocky votolato

2006-07-11T21:35:00.000-04:00

white daisy passing

(click the pictures to see the white daisy passing video)

drives and community.

2006-06-18T22:24:00.000-04:00

I dropped my roommate off at the airport today and was enjoying a nice Sunday drive back to Blacksburg when I began slipping into that introspective wandering of the mind that happens when I drive sometimes, and I realized, “I won’t be able to do this anymore.” And by ‘this’ I mean taking a drive. The simple act of walking out to my car and taking a drive, will become much more complex without a car.

I love taking drives, jumping into the car, and speeding off to a world of freedom on the open roads. Winding through the mountains of southwestern Virginia is very close to therapy for me, it’s a great place to go to free your mind of whatever is trying to get out, or stay in for that matter. But when I leave, and move to a different country, I will not have this luxury of personal freedom anymore.

I have to be open to a new perspective. Now, my feet will be my car. I will have to slow down and my travels won’t be as far, but they will definitely be more deliberate. I will notice more of what I’ve been missing over the years while racing down the highway in our Americana frenzy getting to our next destination. This will force me into community with others, also known as public transportation. New opportunities await.

So why is it that far too often here, in the states, community is sacrificed for comfort? I believe it’s because we take community for granted. We hold it up high as this ideal that we think we are living in, while the honest truth is, we don’t have to slightest clue what it means to live in community. If we did maybe worship would become more of a permanent way of life, as opposed to a once a week task.

I know I have taken it for granted during my time in Blacksburg. I am thankful He has been opening my eyes to this aspect of life, because over the next few months it is going to become my life.

I crave community now. Living transparently with other people. I want that.

one foot in eden- ron rash

2006-06-01T22:46:00.000-04:00

and one out.

2006-06-01T22:13:00.000-04:00

i glance up at my reflection in the window, then back down to the screen, then back up, my eyes glance around my desk to all the artifacts that are set rightly in place. they will be moved soon. for good. i watch the minutes pass on my travel clock that sits on my set of matthew henry's. my eyes are heavy from the long day of work in the hot sun. flying gables, i glance back up [in thought], are quite challenging. something about it is satisfying, though. it feels good to be outside working in the hot sun, dripping wet, having trouble keeping water in you, before you sweat it out, having your arms cut by nails while banging the wood into place, struggling to hold the gable all while your biceps are burning and your eyes stinging, and yet, it's a great feeling when it's complete. that sense of achievement. [i stretch my fingers as even now they are sore and achy]

and this experience is something i share with the guys i work with. we all feel this. this physical triumph of sorts. but it's not my body that will continue to hurt days and years down the road, it's my heart. physical pain and sacrifice is so brief when dealing with the longing of the heart.

we talk about God, and they only inform me of His silliness, how God is simply an illusion. One of them informs me how he thinks it would be great if he could convince someone to denounce their faith. my heart breaks at that statement, and i feel so helpless. ron rash has hit on something that is embedded deep within the soul. "that yearning, that sense that sense that part of your heart is unfilled."

why do i always insist on filling it with things that will not last?

the gift.

2006-05-28T00:50:00.000-04:00

have you ever been given a gift that just blew you away? i have. i guess more than once, but most recently i was blown away by the banjo. jon, a good friend, was flying in from san fran on his way to va beach for a wedding. he stopped by to hang out some and presents me with a banjo for my graduation present. i was speechless. it was a good gift. it was a great gift. one of those that you know has a lot of thought in it, along with a lot of heart.

you see jon and i had this conversation once. he had not long before gotten a mandolin and was a playing a little for me over the phone, and being a folk and bluegrass lover, i was thoroughly enjoying it. like chris thile was right beside me. and i told him flat out... if there was one instrument i would ever want to play it would be a banjo.

so, as i am preparing to embark on my next journey i leave with a promise to jon: upon my return someday we will reunite, find a front porch, some rockin' chairs, a good cup of coffee, and then proceed to do a little pickin'.

ah, what a picture.

time to walk

2006-05-11T00:33:00.000-04:00

Graduation: yet another season of change

It’s approaching that time of year. That time towards the end of April when thousands of students across the country are relentlessly hitting the books, some literally out of anger, and some metaphorically to cram those last few minutes before their final exam. Only one thing consoles them, and it keeps replaying over and over in their mind, “this is it… this is the last cramming session, for the last final, for the last class they will ever take as an undergraduate student.

This is a very exciting time. I am currently experiencing it myself. This is a time for change, though. I feel the whole world is opening before me with opportunity. There is no telling what city I will end up in, or where my job may take me… but wait, I like this city. I’ve spent the last six years just getting acquainted with it. Yeah, but I have a BArchd and endless opportunities await. But what about my friends? The ones I’m leaving behind and the ones graduating with me, but that are probably moving to different cities. A salary awaits you, though (which means a sum of money you can still hardly comprehend). Yeah, but… all the money in the world couldn’t buy a pita pizza as good as one from the Cellar. Oh, and what about the daily routine of a job. Well, I don’t’ know, I kind of like my sporadic schedule of studio hours.

All of this was running through my mind not half an hour after I finished my final thesis review. I was experiencing a feeling of relief and accomplishment, but also one of melancholy, which I didn’t particularly expect. I had worked the last five years to get to this point, and now it was over. I’m not sure I really thought it would ever end, or even wanted it to end for that matter, but it did.

And now I’m finished with college.

I literally sat in the room with my work for an hour or so. Just sitting there. I didn’t know what to. It’s been five years since I haven’t had a studio project to work on.

Talking with some friends helped come to this conclusion: there will never be another time in your life like college, specifically in the sense of so much change in the shortest amount of time.

This must have been how the Israelites, felt. Imagine it, they that had been enslaved in Egypt for a really long time, were finally led out and were on the outskirts of the promised land, but they didn’t want to go in! They didn’t want change either; they were comfortable where they were, even when they were presented with a land flowing of milk and honey. What are your promised lands?

I think it’s a good way to look at this stage of transition life. We are standing outside of our promised lands and all we have to do is cross the border and go in. But we must be anticipating and be willing to accept change, no matter what form it takes. Because complacency and indecision and doubt and hardship are a fact of life and they will never go away, even once we have gotten the courage to cross the border and inhabit our promised land.

thoughts on B&N

2006-04-23T23:53:00.000-04:00

so. barnes&noble. i know that you all have them. i have to say, though, truthfully, it's a big box store that i don't mind. so, i sat down at one of their tables beside the magazine racks last week [and while looking at my trendy design and photog mags] and wrote a few lines. it went something like this... bookstores/coffeeshops are great places to be.

at least for me, i can't keep myself away. any given week will find me visting a coffeeshop/bookstore at least, at least 3 days out of the week, typically 4 or 5.

they are very inspiring places to be. so much creativity in one place is just amazing. i could go into a few different directions here, but i want to focus on the store itself, ideologically. could you not consider bookstores to be museums? that is the main question i'm posing. And I make that statment on this basis: writing is art. i'm not really aware if there are actual museums for books, maybe for like 1st editions or something, or maybe even libraries. but writing, as an art form, why would bookstores not be considered a type museum?

maybe it's because of the nature of the art of writing. there is definitely something unique about it. books can be reproduced many, many times and the copies are just as powerful as the original. if that doesn't speak to the power of writing, i'm not sure what would. i mean, take a Picasso or Pollock, or Rothko: do copies of this type of art speak the same as the original? I would argue no... there is something 'lost in the translation'.

It's a museum whose galleries are constantly changing yet remain the same to some degree. there is an antiquity about the contents of bookstores, yet most of the books were probably printed within the past year or so.

it's quite a phenomenon, and i can't get over it.

IMG_4931

2006-04-08T21:42:00.000-04:00

"Even though I am free of the demands and expectations of everyone, I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists, the defeated, the demoralized- whoever. I didn't take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ- but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I've become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life. I did all this because of the Message.

I didn't just want to talk about it; I wanted to be in on it!"

a good day.

2006-03-18T23:13:00.000-05:00

I want to write. It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything. I’ve got nothing, though. Much has happened for sure. I am just tired.

With the end of your college career in sight comes a lot of work.

I went to Mill Mountain to relax for a while and to write in my journal, but ended up getting a coffee to go. I had my camera, so I decided to take a leisurely stroll around Blacksburg. You see, it was a beautiful day here. The sky a cool blue, the kind you get when the temperature only reaches the mid-40’s, and there was not a cloud in the sky. It was a crisp, transition-from-winter-to-spring kind of day.

So, I walked.

And I observed. I took it in. The beauty and splendor of the day.

It felt like the beginning for me. I won’t go into my long spiel on this subject just yet… but, the realization of the end has hit me.

the journey continues.

2006-02-25T13:13:00.000-05:00

In books, most chapters begin before the previous one ends. if not literally, then usually some reference is made to the next. now, this is not always the case i know, but more often than not it is.

I will be assuming this statement is true because it is the basis of this writing, and because the next chapter of my life has already begun. maybe the actual writing per se hasn't begun yet, but the story has, the content has.

In fact, this storyline has been in the works for some time now. Maybe even dating back to four years ago, way back to my sophomore year. But let’s focus on the more immediate future. It’s easier to remember.

Tuesday afternoon found me walking home from studio. I stopped by the mailbox on the way in, which is customary routine, but today was different than most days. Today I was expecting something; I had been expecting something yesterday as well.

I was told the letters would be mailed out on the 17th, so it should’ve arrived yesterday, Monday. I had gotten excited about getting the mail yesterday too. Little did I know, as I was later informed, it was president’s day. That made me laugh and i felt a little relieved.

So, I stopped by the mailbox, full of excitement, and I tried to go through the motions as I normally would, but I just knew the letter was going to be in there, so I dramatized it a little. I slowly inserted my key into the lock, taking deep breaths, and ever so carefully pulled the door open, and laying there in my mailbox, with what seemed like golden beams radiating from it accompanied by the angelic “aaahhhhhh”, was the letter. The company insignia staring me right back in the face.

Now my demeanor and actions from the mailbox to my apartment would have been something to witness, I’m sure. I mean, I tried to act normal, I just couldn’t help it. I can’t remember the last time I was as excited to open a piece of mail, if ever. But I couldn’t just walk in and open it. I went into my apartment, took my book bag off, and laid the envelope on my chest of drawers. Then I ran to the restroom real quick, hurried back and picked up the envelope.

I turned it over in my hands a few times, and reached for my swiss army knife. Being an important, official document and all, I wanted a clean open. I slowly slide my knife under the flap and across the top of the envelope, opening it, and revealing the contents inside.

I could tell there were 2 pieces of paper, the outside one was blue. i knew it wasn’t the one I was looking for. So at this point, all in one motion, I pulled it out, unfolded it and began reading.

I could never put into words what followed.

But, to try to help. I sometimes write and talk about glimpses of beauty or truth that God reveals to us through His creation. This was one of those moments. It was a glimpse of joy, as best humans could understand.

If you are still lost, the letter was my acceptance into the jman program. Thus beginning the next chapter of my life. The 6-year chapter on Virginia tech is being completed.

New chapter provide endless opportunities. What will the author pen?

IMG_3957.JPG

2006-02-24T14:05:00.000-05:00

IMG_3957.JPG, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

life image

2006-02-17T23:09:00.000-05:00

So they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but what is an image worth? It’s worth a lot more than words. A picture is one type of image, but what about everything else we see? We are bombarded with images in our media driven society. Turn on the tv, and you are seeing images being streamed in real time, or taped. Watch a movie and you are seeing thousands of images captured on film telling the story of an event. Look at a magazine or even a book that has images and you are seeing words that have been interpreted and transformed into a concrete form of representation. Then there is the Internet, a world of images at your fingertips. Even as I type this I am seeing an image of a page as it would appear if printed, or published to the web. I am seeing an image of my thoughts.

Whether or not we are conscious of it, images play a huge role in our lives. We have many associations with images that we have grown up with that we simply accept. Children identify with hundreds of images, one of top priority to them might be ‘golden arches’. We know what those mean, and what they stand for.

Lately I have become obsessed with images from around the world. These images inform me of the events in my country, as well as around the globe. I have become a news hound. A BBC junkie. I constantly find myself navigating the bookmarks list and clicking links to the major news websites. I am captivated by the images I see. They capture a moment in time. This two-dimensional representation of a place grants me the ability to vicariously enter their world. I know that this ‘flat’ image in actuality has a three-dimensional world behind it. I know that the people in the image are real, and that they are experiencing something that I can only infer from the composition of the image.

There is power behind these images. There is a voice trying to be heard. Can our lives be thought of as images? In the history of time are our lives but an image of a particular place in a particular time? What would the image of your life look like? If you went to the homepage of the ‘history of time’ website, and your life was the feature article what image would accompany it?

What is your voice trying to say? How are you composing the image of your life so that it communicates a powerful message? It makes me wonder if our all knowing, all seeing God views us that way.

There are many stories I know where this statement finds truth. Try to think of any famous historical figure… what image comes to mind? We associate lives with images. I like to imagine that for each of His children He has the most beautifully framed image of their life hanging on His wall. An image with a subject matter that captures their existence. For every single one of His children He has one of these, since the beginning of time. God has a lot of wall space.

But, He didn’t send us an appointment card with our portrait time on it, and He didn’t ask us to pose and smile when the image was taken, did He? No, He didn’t, and this is most likely the case because the image was taken when we least expected it. The image was taken when we were loving our neighbor and not thinking of ourselves. The image came when we were at out lowest and were most dependent on Him. The image came when we were hiding and didn’t want to be found. The image came when we realized for the first time that we are truly loved.

The wonderful thing about images is that there are an infinite number of them at any given moment in time. Not happy with the one that may have been taken already? Make today’s image count.

Where do these images originate, though? I know where they don’t originate. They don’t originate in indolence or indifference. They are born in the midst of action. They come from a desire to see change. They are the culmination of the person, the subject. Follow your heart, live your passions and convictions with integrity.

Remember, images are powerful tools.

on the road

2006-02-08T18:54:00.000-05:00

On the Road is a dangerous book. What’s even worse, I’ve been reading it lately. A year has almost passed since my last trip. I flew out to Montana to visit a buddy of mine from high school who was working out there at the time.

I mean, I am reading Kerouac’s words, but it’s hard to focus on his journey for all the stories of my past experiences out west that keep weaving themselves in. Every time he mentions a particular state my mind is off on a tangent, recalling what happened when I last passed through there.

He mentioned seeing the mighty Mississippi and I am immediately swept away… driving along in the RV, it’s been dark for a long time, but we press on. Our excitement has us driving long hours. We pass through Memphis and as we approach the bridge I rummage around through our gear and grab my camera. Turning the dial to program mode, and snapping a shot. The picture came out blurry, because of the long exposure time required to capture the image of the bridge we were crossing over the great river, a neon illuminated pyramid in the background. I still don’t know what that building was.

His words stir something inside me. It pulls at me to jump in my car and start driving, like that time in the middle of the night when was working in Yellowstone. I had the next few days off and nothing planned. It was late, and I began wondering how far I could drive in the time I had off. Figuring I could just drive north through Montana and then turn around when my time off was half up. I packed a few things and pulled out of the parking lot of the Yellowstone Lake employee dorms. Running low no gas, I had to drive to Fishing Bridge, the closet gas station in the park, to fill up. Gas stations in Yellowstone aren’t 24 hours, though. My hopes were dashed. I would have to wait until 6 the next morning. So, I went back and slept a little, and headed out in the morning.

It’s not only the open road that is appealing. Kerouac writes of his experiences with the people he meets on his journey. At this prompting, I find myself sitting in a rustic diner in West Glacier, Montana. Having just returned from the Canada side of Glacier National Park. Josh and I are sitting on the red plastic covered stools, common to all ‘real’ diners, at the bar. The waitress strikes up a conversation. She too is from back east. We discuss our reasons for being out there and our common interests, our love for the outdoors. She fly-fishes. We go on talking as if we’re old friends catching up. We finish our meals and bid farewell. Back to the road.

There is also a sense of discovery that he writes about. Not only the discovery of new places, but the discovery of himself. He talks about a defining experience of his life when he wakes up in a hotel room and he doesn’t know who he is. I woke up one night in Bangkok. My flight had arrived in the late hours of the night/ the wee hours of the morning. Wandering through the airport, I didn’t know the name of the hotel I had reservations at. I somehow managed to communicate with a Thai lady who helped me get a taxi which took me to a hotel, turns out it wasn’t the one I had reservations for. I have no idea how much I paid for the room, but I had a bed. In a foreign land by myself, I locked the door to my room threw my bags down and sat down on the bed. I don’t remember if I cried that night or not, but I probably should have. It was the loneliest I have felt in my entire life. I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, my destination was on the opposite side of the country and I didn’t know a soul within a 10,000 mile radius, give or take a few. I was somewhere in that in between world, half awake and half asleep. Physically and mentally exhausted. I discovered myself, though. When I awoke the next morning, wondering if I actually slept or not, I drew the curtains back from my hotel room and I just stood there at my window staring at the foreign land before me. The sun was shining and it was a new day. It was a new world.

I could continue on and on. I love retelling these stories, these experiences. They are a part of my story, of my journey. They give me anticipation and excitement for the next journey ahead. These travels have been my education. They have taught me many lessons, and are preparing me. I keep them close and remember the people and places I have met.

I think I am ready for the next adventure.

must-see

2006-01-25T21:19:00.000-05:00

Recently I’ve been drawn to international films. The three four that have been pressing on my mind lately are: The Constant Gardener, City of God, Syriana, and a late addition, The Interpreter. I’m not sure exactly why these films captivate me, but I can make a guess. My guess would be because of the Truth that these films contain. I was reading an article earlier today talking about how this has been the year of the ‘message’ movies. I quite like this description because it means filmmakers are actually trying to speak. Not only speaking, but speaking at an international level.

I’ll start with The Constant Gardener, directed by Fernando Meirelles. I love this film first and foremost because it speaks to my heart. Mainly Rachel Weisz’s character, Tessa. She is an idealist, a relentless pursuer of her cause who takes on the seemingly impossible task of fighting the AIDS epidemic in Africa. But more than that, she is fighting for it’s people. In the movie she targets the pharmaceutical companies who take advantage of Africans living in poverty, the people who don’t really have a choice. It is a beautiful story of love. She fights for the people who are too weak to fight for themselves. She sacrifices herself for those that she barely knows, so that they may live better lives.

Then there is the City of God, also a film by Fernando Meirelles. I also appreciate this story for the raw truth that it portrays. This movie tells the story of the City of God, a real suburb of Rio de Janeiro. Specifically it focuses on “Rocket” a young man growing up in the unreal circumstances and his attempt to find refuge from it. He finds his outlet through photography. Photojournalism primarily. He believes that others should know what is happening where he lives. That, ideally, if we invite the outside world into our lives and allow them to see the circumstances we live in, we may in some way be helping the cause of making it better. I love this film because photography is his outlet. Through the lens of a camera he can express himself. At the push of a button things come into focus, and you are allowed to ‘see’ and create so that others may know.

Syriana was the next film I saw. This film, told by master storyteller Stephen Gaghan, is by far mostly an informative film. Cluing us in as to the reality of the oil trade in our world. I enjoyed this film because of the perspectives from which it was told. As Americans we are never allowed, or care to see the impact that we have on other parts of the world. This film shows how we are determining the fate of other people’s lives around the world. It shows us the impact that our decisions have. We are allowed to experience a worldview that we otherwise would have never known, or would never have even thought about. It makes us think outside of ourselves, outside of our country, something we as Americans hardly ever do. Regardless of the political agenda of this movie, there are certain universal truths that we have to recognize.

A latecomer to the film post is The Interpreter. I just saw it this past weekend, so it barely made it in. This film is by director Sydney Pollack. (There are some really great special feature interviews on the DVD with him giving a lot of insight into his style of filmmaking!) Back to the film. Yet another international thriller. A tagline I read somewhere for the movie is “the truth needs no interpretation”. I enjoyed this movie because of the emphasis that Nicole Kidman’s character places on peaceful means of change. She emphatically states she is into quiet diplomacy. She believes that words can incite change. The title alone evokes a reference to language. “Nations have gone to war because they’ve misinterpreted each other”, she says. It is her belief in words and language that I love so much. For humans to interact we must use these tools. They are imperative for us to communicate with each other. We learn about the world and other people through words. We teach and understand through words, we can hurt and praise with words. I believe our society has lost this sense of meaning and truth with regard to words. People today are so quick to use them for the wrong agendas.

Ultimately, I recommend you watch these movies and decide for yourself. Try to discover how they ‘speak’ to you. Not only do I love the fact that these movies are entertainment, but also that they make you think. They use the medium of film, a form of art, to convey truth. art + truth = beauty. None of which, ironically, can be boiled down to an equation.

2006-01-23T00:12:00.000-05:00

"The gunfire around us makes it hard to hear. But the human voice is different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury everything else. Even when it's not shouting. Even if it's just a whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard-- over armies... when it's telling the truth." -The Interpreter

blue couch

2006-01-16T19:38:00.000-05:00

IMG_3254.JPG, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

i actually wrote this on saturday.

2006-01-16T15:23:00.000-05:00

Barefooted, I sit Indian-style on my blue leather couch (a hand-me-down, from a previous roommate who did not want to move it out). my computer sits before me, and I alternate glancing from the screen to looking out the window. They called for snow today. It’s been ‘flurrying’. I always get too excited about the snow. The ipod connected to our stereo plays in the background. A mellow selection was chosen this morning, given the state of the atmospheric conditions it seemed appropriate. It’s noon now. I thought about doing laundry earlier, but all the machines were full. I thought about showering earlier, but am just lazy. I also thought about going to get some film developed, going downtown, looking for a new Delkin Devices CARDBUS 32-BIT HI SPEED compact flash reader and I glanced at my book earlier, but nothing has happened yet. I did, however, manage to make coffee and pancakes this morning (they were wheat pancakes too, you should try them, I was pleasantly surprised).

so now here I sit writing an entry for my blog. At least it’s something productive, I guess. My right leg just feel asleep, though.

a little place called weaverville

2006-01-03T19:42:00.000-05:00

, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

the story of weaverville.

2006-01-03T19:05:00.000-05:00

So the trip my mom, dad and I took to Weaverville, nc has its roots set in time. A few years ago, my mom, knowing my love for coffee and the vessels that hold it, bought me a hand made coffee mug to add to my collection. And I fell in love with this mug. I loved it as much as you can love an inanimate object. It was beautiful, the color was the deepest most radiant blue, and its shape fit my hand perfectly. And it was the following Christmas on a cold wintry day, as I was working on a puzzle (one of the ones that comes on top of the tin of popcorn that my sister buys me, which has now become a tradition) that the unspeakable happened. (if you are an art lover and are squeamish, you may not want to look at the following pictures.)

as i was searching for a piece of the puzzle i accidentally knocked my mug clear off the table, and i watched as my mug fell in slow motion to the floor. i was devastated. I just could not believe it. I was in shock. I immediately called my mom, and told her what happened. We shared in our regret and vowed to find another one.

So, this past winterbreak, found us in the car on the way to Mangum Pottery Studios in Weaverville, North Carolina. Of course we had never heard of Weaverville, and now only knew its whereabouts thanks to google maps. After driving an hour and a half through mostly rural and mountainous south and north Carolina we arrived. It was a great little town too. A very quaint town with main street running right down the middle. We headed straight to the studio and immediately started the search for the ‘replacement’ mug. I was quite settled on the fact that I would never find a mug that had the beauty and character of the first one, but… after minutes of searching through their display at the front of their studio, my eye caught one. And the rest is, as they say, history. I guess it won’t ever have the same qualities as the first one, but it sure is a good replacement.

so, this one is now the new workhorse for coffee drinking. i haven't been able to start a puzzle again, though. the traumatic experience previously mentioned scarred me deep. i don't think i could yet subject my new mug to the rigor of working a puzzle. all in good time i suppose.

you may be asking what happened to the 'old' mug? well, it has found a new home. it was since reassembled from the found pieces and adorns one of my book shelves.

a memory of good times from years past.

Luke 2

2005-12-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) And everyone went to his own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
"Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

northern lights

2005-12-24T00:19:00.000-05:00

northern lights, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

late night musings

2005-12-23T01:02:00.000-05:00

It took us 11 hours to make the 5.5 hour trip. There was snow, freezing rain and ice. It was dark. We sat in traffic for 3 hours, at a dead stand still, no less. It was miserable. The worst conditions I have ever driven in. we arrived safely, though. What was the cause of this trip? Backpacking. Backpacking in sub freezing temperatures. walking up mountains through the ice and snow on the ground. Over emphasizing routine movements solely for the purpose of warmth. Quickening your pace so that your feet move faster and bend more all in an attempt to try to get the blood flowing through them again.

Looking back my emotions are quite unclear. It seemed crazy at the time. ‘what are we doing?’, ‘we are going to freeze’, ‘this can’t be worth it’. These thoughts running through my mind, yet I had a smile on my face. I was loving every minute. Because on this sacred trail, the AT, it is almost impossible not to have a good time, regardless the circumstances.

The things we will do for the loves of our lives. I’m sure I would have been miserable if I was doing almost anything else, but I was backpacking. I was in my element. I feel this is the case with most things in life. It’s all about perspective. Perception.

I scold myself for not being more content in other areas of my life as I am when I am in the great outdoors. Because the truth is, I am happiest when I am walking in the middle of nowhere with everything I need strapped to my back.

Why then do I ‘need’ so much in other areas of loves in my life? My love of my DVD collection is something that I cherish and is something that I pride myself on because of its breadth and relevance to film culture. My love of my music collection, the same. I feel ashamed of them at times, though. I try to convince myself that these are relevant to my development as a designer and as a patron of the arts. That they teach me something greater about myself and about humanity that I may one day use to reach this society that I watch and learn about. Do I need these 1,000’s of dollars worth of DVD’s and CD’s to do this when I feel I can gain the same from the outdoors, which is free?

I also surround myself with books, with knowledge. I tend to start 2 or 3 books at the same time, losing myself in them. Absorbing all that I can from their pages to be better prepared. To be more knowledgeable of the classics and of modern literature and journalism.

Is this real? I almost feel that I try to live vicariously through different media, ignoring the real issues in my own life. It is too easy for me to get wrapped up in a story than have to deal with the feelings and issues that are pressing on me. To ignore them, to make them go away. Hoping they will be taken care of as I am far off in another world.

And it is in this world that things become blurred. The reality of everything that is my life seems to become intertwined with what is not real. The decisions that I make in the real world seem to have little consequence sometimes because I feel that they are not real.

I know this is not the case, though. My dualism saddens me. I know that everything I am living and the choices I am making do have an impact on something greater than the realization of their insignificance. My awareness of the world is great. My travels have revealed this to me. Why do I not live it then? Why are my convictions not stronger? I don’t know I can answer that. Except attributing it to the fact that I do not believe it is true.

My mindset is contradictory to these to these statements, though. I am an idealist. And I have a vivid imagination concerning the way things should be. But, I know things will never live up to the picture I have created. Especially if i just sit back and wish them into existence as I am off in another world.

I do not feel these things are necessarily bad, though. it is only in their mutual exclusion that they become dangerous. i strive to reach that place where the two intersect. Where the two become one. Where there is no longer a distinction between my perceptions of actions as being inconsequential. Everything is influencing everything else. There is nothing that is not real. Learn to live real. Learn to live truth.

once upon a cold night

2005-12-22T01:14:00.000-05:00

IMG_2726.JPG, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

thoughts from a construction worker

2005-12-10T01:12:00.000-05:00

With the coming of the new week (which is already over) saw a return to working my construction job. Back to building houses. Many, many thoughts come to mind when I think about this:

Part I: Routine

This word initially enters into my thoughts. Now. Let me preface this by acknowledging that, yes, we all have our routines. But…
But… some activities, more than others, accentuate these routines. And I don’t know that any activity I’ve ever participated in has accentuated a more particular routine than working a construction job. I think it’s simply that I’m more aware of my surroundings. Which surprises me… that one becomes more aware of one’s surrounding before the sun rises in the a.m. regardless of this fact, I feel things are more pronounced. I take utmost care, and exercise the most adept precision into the preparation leading up to my departure for the day. My coffee is ground and measured and the timer is set all the night before. So that when I wake up throw on my work clothes my mug, thermos and lunch pale are close at hand. Then there is the drive. So cold that my heater never actually blows hot air before I get to work. Maybe a good thing that I already have my coat, hat, and gloves on by the time I get to work. The morning light. Everything is so crisp and clear on frigid winter mornings (considering I don’t fog up the window with my warm breath). Driving through the valley on the way to the site is a great preface to the day, no matter how warm my bed was, or how hard it was to get up, it is definitely worth it. There is a calmness/peacefulness about it that is hard to describe.

Part II: The Work

Manual labor. It is definitely something in and of itself. “The body fuels the mind” (A River Runs Through It). I find this statement to be quite true. While putting countless nails into 2x4’s, 2x6’s, roof trusses, floor joists, hurricane straps, etc. my mind seems to be racing. Amidst all the mindless chit-chat, if you will, that goes on at construction sites it is a wonder any constructive thought is born, yet it seems to be just so. I often enjoy getting to work on parts of the house where I am working by myself. Just me and the task at hand. It allows me to take in my surroundings, to look objectively at the work I am performing, and immediately dismiss any notions that this is in fact simply routine. Everything is building up to something…

I am building, constructing, creating something, for someone. This will be someone’s ‘home’ in the near future. This is where their life will happen. Where their marriage will begin, where their kids will be raised, where they will associate with something familiar. ‘Home is where the heart is’ though, right? Yes, but memories also constitute a state of the heart. And their memories will be made here, right here under these trusses that we are setting.

Part III: My Crew

To say that construction workers are a different breed may be an understatement, but it is with these guys that I am living my life, and I am therefore one of them. And it is with these guys that I love working.

If you want to live in community, go build a house with someone. You have to learn how to communicate, how to trust, and how to work together towards a common goal no matter what your differences are and no matter how hard it is to get along with someone. We also have fun, though. I laugh a lot at work. Oh yeah, you also have to have a sense of humor. And you must be willing to take ridicule. Because you will make mistakes while building a house, and you will be the butt of the joke until you die… construction workers never forget these stories. They are told over and over and over, and they are laughed at every time. But don’t be mistaken, these guys would do anything for each other. Because we are a team, a crew.

Part IV: Conclusion

What does all this mean? I don’t quite know that I am sure. It probably references some greater analogy or metaphor. Maybe it speaks of Hebrews 11:10. “For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God”. Maybe it resonates within me for this reason: that I am His creation. Made in His image, and made to take joy in the craft of creating something, building something bigger than myself. Laying the foundations for what is ahead.

I do not try to fool myself, and pretend to know why I love working construction. No person in their right mind would. I only joy in the fact that He has blessed me with the ability to do it. That He has given me something I am good at, that I may use for the benefit of others…

For the benefit of others. To touch someone else’s life.

the simple things

2005-12-05T13:56:00.000-05:00

It’s 6:30…. am. It’s still dark. Driving to work the first flakes start falling. You arrive. Work is cancelled. The sun rises but is masked by the thick gray clouds. They begin to release more and more flakes. The coffee in your thermos is still hot, so you top off your mug for the drive home. Now you can take your time getting back home and enjoy the ride. At home you have the whole morning to relax and work on some of your small projects you have going on. I can’t help but keep looking out the window when I pass one. I’m not sure there is anything that makes me happier than seeing frozen water fall from the sky. The beauty and purity of a fresh blanket of snow is enough to fill me with joy.

That is until I was running some errands and locked my keys in the car. Then I was just mad. It would be different if I didn’t do it like every month. So, I stand out in the snow with a coat hanger, till I can’t feel my hands, trying to get it open. But, to now avail. I go back inside the office, and luckily my day gets better, before it got worse. one of my coworkers volunteers that she has Triple-A. Saved. The proverbial sun begins to shine again and am off to enjoy the beauty of the snow. So refreshing.

Coming home, you walk down the sidewalk looking back at your tracks, feeling the snow light on your hair. The cool air is invigorating. And when you walk into your apartment, your roommate has already found the Christmas station on the radio. It is almost too beautiful to put into words.

I will let you experience it for yourself.

Mountain of God

2005-11-30T00:14:00.000-05:00

Thought that I was all alone
Broken and afraid
But You were there with me
Yes, You were there with me

Even though the journey’s long
And I know the road is hard
Well, the One who’s gone before me
He will help me carry on
After all that I’ve been through
Now I realize the truth
That I must go through the valley
To stand upon the mountain of God

As I travel on the road
That You have lead me down
You are here with me
Yes, You are here with me
I have need for nothing more
Oh, now that I have found
That You are here with me
Yes, You are here with me

I confess from time to time
I lose my way
But You are always there
To bring me back again
-------

thank you mac. Your words speak volumes. They convict and speak truth.
why is it that the road is sometimes so hard to see? Maybe I’m not even on the road. The journey is long. Why do I make it unnecessarily longer that it has to be? Why do I try to blaze my own trail? Take things into my own hands?

I am walking through the valley and in the shade I do not see Him there. I deceive myself with His absence. I ‘think that I am all alone’. I am broken. My heart is broken, and it makes me scared because I have failed Him. The valley seems to swallow me and the mountain grows taller and taller. The climb will be difficult

But the reality that speaks and keeps me alive and strong is that there is ‘One who’s gone before me/ He will help me carry on’.

And I have no choice. I must go through this valley. For even on the mountain of God there are still valleys below.

Though, His promise remains.

thanksgiving

2005-11-20T19:20:00.000-05:00

I’ve been trying to post something since weds or so. And its Sunday. Its almost weds again. I wish it were weds. I would be done with my proj that I am currently working on, even though I’m already on break. And… I would be home if it were weds. I wish I were home. Thanksgiving is a refreshing break. A reminder of all things great: being lazy, eating too much, family, football, cold weather, etc.

I love my family. The sosebee clan will be headed to Columbia this year. I can’t remember the last time we were all down there. It’s not where we meet that remains in my memory, though [maybe we were there last year].

It is the time of fellowship that sticks with me. It is the ‘loudness’ of the sosebee’s talking and sharing stories. It’s the laughter. It’s all the little one’s running around catching my eye. It’s the hugs and smiles. It is the feeling of love. It is the feeling of being embraced by something that you can’t even explain. Family. I love you all, and thank you for your guidance, prayers, hugs, kisses, talks, laughs and on and on. For sharing life. Yall are a special bunch! How blessed.

So now, my mind will be distracted until thurs and fri when I get to see them all. So much for trying to work on my project!

looking up

2005-11-13T22:05:00.000-05:00

IMG_2147.JPG, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

the update

2005-11-13T21:39:00.000-05:00

I look up through the branches to the illuminated night sky. The stars meet my gaze. They twinkle back. The moon continues to set as I peer out the hole in my sleeping bag, too excited too sleep. Finally we are camping.

After so many weeks of planned and failed trips. I even had to start getting sick yesterday, but that wasn’t about to stop me. I tried to get extra sleep so I would feel better today. I told myself the mountain air would make me well. I may be more sick when I get back, but it will be well worth it. Every painful second.

Even in the woods you cannot escape the sounds of civilization. A plane flies overhead. But, you can escape the effects of it. Even up here, we look down at the city lights miles away. Their ethereal glow in the fog filled valleys is a nice view. But I think its because we are miles away from it, that we can say its nice. It’s nice being away from it.

Life changes up here. Everything becomes richer, you appreciate time and slowness. The joy of sitting down to cook a meal over the camp stove. Grabbing your pot grippers and then dumping your chicken and rice into your new lexan bowl that you are so proud of. Then making your way back to that ‘perfect’ spot on the log by the fire (which is a good size tonight, much warmth). Your friends’ join you, and you sit there and eat… and talk about how this is the best chicken and rice you’ve ever had. “everything tastes better when your camping”, oh how many times those words have been muttered. They are engrained into our minds, and they never prove themselves wrong. And once you have almost inhaled your carb filled dinner, you realize that you still get to boil some coffee. And a smile comes over your face in the dim light of the flickering flame. So… this is what heaven is like.

Even as I lie here, my nose is freezing. My entire face will be frozen by morning (the forecast called for a nightly low of 28). So you reach up and grab the drawstrings of your sleeping bag and cinch it closed till the tiniest opening remains. Just enough to get some fresh air. I can still see the illuminated night sky and the starry gazes, though. I smile again. I love this.

………………………

I copied the above out of my little black journal that I keep with me. We had gotten in out sleeping bags already, but I just couldn’t sleep. So I reached out and grabbed my journal and headlamp and started to lay down a few thoughts.

………………………..

So, I will put my journal away, find that comfortable place on my bed of leaves, my sleeping pad, and in my sleeping bag. Then I will breathe in the cold night air. Forgetting all my worries, forgetting the world, and I close my eyes.

And my thoughts turn to the morning. A smile comes, once again, across my face. Maple and brown sugar oatmeal for breakfast. The first light of morning waking me, and the feeling of not wanting to move from the comfort and warmth of my sleeping bag. So, I pull it tighter around me, sit up, and watch the sunrise.

orion's lookout

2005-11-12T16:37:00.000-05:00

IMG_2163.jpg, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

backpacking.

2005-11-11T12:11:00.000-05:00

four hours till departure. much needed weekend get away. much inspiration anticipated. pictures and update to follow shortly...

beauty in the fall

2005-11-10T22:20:00.000-05:00

Time slides away, sedation sets in, vulnerability rises. Your surrounding circumstances seem favorable enough. No complaints. many months pass and stability becomes something to depend on. Through many transitions, growth has occurred. There is excitement, and the colors of life become more diverse and more brilliant than ever. Beauty abounds.

But in an instant “the times they are a-changin’”. The places you found rest are becoming ‘not familiar’ anymore. Everything, everyone seems to be ‘not themselves’.

The world that seemed so black and white, so easy to define, becomes blurred. This community that has been nourished is beginning to fade. It is obvious that the illusion of ‘sameness’ was simply that, an illusion. Those around you are changing, wait … or is it yourself? Why is this happening? What have you done to deserve this? Panic sets in and all seems lost. You begin to lose your grip, and almost instantly (as time seems to cease to exist) you begin to fall. But now as you fall (time slows to a halt) and you drift, float, in slow motion, as your world is blurred (a result of the rocking motion) you continue down, down. And you hit. Bottom. Hope is lost?

There are seasons that we have to weather. Fall is one that is bittersweet. There is beauty, yet it is brief, causing it to be all the more enchanting. As if saying, something this beautiful could not last more than an instant. This seems to speak volumes, though. Throughout time, we are given these moments, brief they may be, but oh how profound.

It is at these moments that our eyes, our mind and our hearts are given a glimpse of something greater, some beauty that is a little further out there, just beyond our furthest reach. We try to search for these glimpses, but with no luck. They are a gift. A glimpse of things to come. A small taste of that beauty which Emerson describes as “the ultimate end”. “No reason can be asked or given why the soul seeks beauty. Beauty in its largest and profoundest sense is one expression for the universe.” Forever these glimpses will stream into our hearts, and forever they will reveal a beauty beyond comprehension. And forever they will remain.

So forever in us will remain a hope. A hope for a new day.

IMG_1811

2005-11-10T21:19:00.000-05:00

IMG_1811, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

blacksburg

2005-10-27T10:10:00.000-04:00

IMG_1019.jpg, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

a much anticipated weekend

2005-10-27T00:53:00.000-04:00

Family Weekend ‘05 is just on the horizon. Not to imply that this is an annual event. I think it’s been 2 years since my family has been up to blacksburg. But, a lot changes in 2 years. More on that to follow. So on Friday, they will pile in the car or two and embark on the 4 hour journey from south Carolina.

I also haven’t seen my family since coming back to school. Needless to say I am getting excited. It has been hard to work this week and keep my focus, the weekend keeps creeping into my mind. mom, dad, my sister carrie her husband chad (change one, carrie wasn’t married last time they came up, a much welcomed addition to the fam, though), and my aunt brenda and uncle doug! Are all coming up.

Now. I love Blacksburg. This town is near and dear to my heart. I have spent a quarter of my life here. Yeah, 6 years. Wow. So, when someone takes an interest and wants to come see “where corey goes to school”, I get excited! I will love playing tour guide (change two, Blacksburg. So much has changed since they were last up. Growth, essentially. Many new additions to the town). Showing my family the in’s and out’s of Blacksburg. All the nice spots that common passers-by wouldn’t even dream of finding.

You develop quite an intimate relationship with a town, especially one as quaint and small as Blacksburg. And especially after living here for so long. (you may be thinking 6 years is not a long time, my response… it’s purely relative.) 6 years being in one place is like an eternity for me. Summers have broken up the years, though.

Anyway. this place is home to me. You become part of a place. And that place becomes a little bit a part of you. Perhaps that is something I think inspiring about architecture. You are actively involved in the shaping of peoples lives. That’s deep. But it’s true.

Enough about the city. For in this case it is only a tool, a prop. When my family comes, the city becomes a stage. It becomes much less about the town as it is about providing an opportunity to spend time with my family. The stage is set and the actors arrive in a few days. We will then raise the curtain. Pausing here and there to act out a scene, and then moving on. The camera will be in-hand, poised to capture these moments that will be happening for the last time. This is the final act of the play. My last fall in Blacksburg (cue tear rolling down cheek).

And like any good play there will be drama, humor, conflict, love, happiness, etc. all leading up to a great ending (well, at least in this play)! so, I try to do work, and keep my mind occupied until Friday afternoon when the van pulls up and some of the key actors in this play, the story of my life, jump out and run to greet me, my parents, my sister, and my family. My Family.

The critics have given good reviews, and I cannot wait to experience it!

oct snow

2005-10-25T17:45:00.000-04:00

, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

not sure i could've anticipated the snow when setting out for today's hike.

go to bed.

2005-10-25T01:35:00.000-04:00

October 25
Its 37 degrees outside.
And I have to walk home.
My project will stay here.
But I will leave.
I know. It will follow.

Not always on my mind,
It is always present.
Ideas coming… going
Somewhere I couldn’t follow tonight.
Typing kept my mind occupied.

I am leaving now.
I’m off to follow my shadow.
Across the asphault.
Through the parking lot,
Across the street,
Another parking lot,
And then over the blades of grass
Leading to my door.

It will be 71 in my apt.
(new space heater)
thanks to my roommate.
Me. I prefer cold.
Him. Warm.

The high will be 49 tomorrow.
Blacksburg weather: subtract 10 degrees.
And I will walk back to studio.
My hands taking turns holding
My computer.
So one can freeze,
While the other thaws.

Then I will sit,
Here.
Where I now sit.
And it will be 37 degrees.
And my project will be here.

beauty in the fall

2005-10-24T22:08:00.000-04:00

thoughts of fall, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

electric peak

2005-10-21T03:01:00.000-04:00

electric peak, originally uploaded by faded.memories..

images of memory

2005-10-21T02:44:00.000-04:00

My music plays in the background but it doesn’t warrant my attention. My eyes are begging for sleep judging by their heaviness, but I continue to sit and stare. I am captivated by the memory of a place, a place I knew so well. It demands my attention and so my thoughts are carried away.

I can remember the smell of my room, as I sit on that bed that was soft and hard at the same time (but it was my bed) and open up a book and read to pass the time after work, or put on my headphones in meditation on something I just read. I remember the daily repetition of actions, reaching over to my ‘shelf’ and grabbing my much used and worn journal. My favorite pen not too far off. Staring out the window I contemplate my thoughts. My gaze mainly fixed on the forest laid out before me like a rich green blanket full of texture. The kind you love to wrap up in on a cold winter day with a cup of coffee in hand.

This place I knew so well, it now seems but a dream. Its grandeur and beauty cause me to disbelieve the reality that it exists. Could I have been so fortunate as to be in a place such as this? Who am I to have had the opportunity to know something this big? It seems so far, yet the images are right here before me, reminding that I was there. That I did experience this. God, I miss it so much.

So, I hold onto these images and claim them as truth. I grip them tight and pull them close. I keep them fresh in my mind. Constructing and reconstructing a place I knew so well. These recollections remind me of a different place, of a different time. Of a different me. The me I was then.

Drink at the fountain of youth. These images are my fountain. They remind me what it is like to be a child again. They remind me of simplicity. They teach me how things can be. With them comes peace. Peace of mind, peace of heart. I am thankful for memories. Thankful that the past is the past but that it is also sometimes a hope for the future.

goldsworthy

2005-10-17T17:07:00.000-04:00

goldsworthy
Originally uploaded by faded.memories..

13 months

2005-10-17T17:03:00.000-04:00

So last month makes it one year since I started this blog. This tells me a few things: I have never felt that a year goes by so fast. A year usually seems like a fairly long time, but not after reading over the old posts. It almost seems like yesterday, and also, I don’t post a lot. Going back and reading posts from a year ago is quite a revelation. It is interesting to see where I was at this point in time a ‘whole year’ ago. I remember the time, and I remember if it was a good time, or if it was a time that was tough, a time that I struggled through. Maybe a time like the time right now. But then, I read ahead and I see good times to come. I realize that time and the time ahead are a part of all time. But more importantly that they are a part of His time. And that He is here. How comforting to know. Practicing the Presence. Mark case. An interesting and very thought-provoking book. I think that came from campolo. But it was just that.

Thesis.

How is it that such a small word can induce so much fear and frustration? I mean especially when you don’t even know what it means. Equally as frightening is the fact that I just wrote that last statement and I’m already about 8 weeks into my thesis project. Architecture is so elusive, yet it is all around me. Especially sitting here in studio.

far too long...

2005-08-04T21:25:00.000-04:00

has it been since i laid fingers to the keys. but, as i was feeling of writing tonight, it works out. however this is not the kind of writing i had intended. left, just minutes ago, feeling uninspired i thought this just might well do.

i have been very lethargic lately. it sucks. i have this 'schedule' that binds me. i'm like a zombie. an exciting day is switching up my dinner plans, and deciding to order out. i know the times 'my' tv shows begin, end, and rerun themselves. i have a lot of time to read but even it, as of late, has become yet another slot of time to fill. there is little passion right now. no fuel to quinch the parched logs. "i am not sure why i even write this letter, i have no way to send it, perhaps i write it only for myself, and so i will hide it away, with all other things that were left unsaid." yeah. exactly.

only in the places to the left do i find strength. the ever present newness of something so ancient has the ability to bring joy to even the most unexercised of hearts. my thoughts take a turn. there is no longer, it is now here. i will enjoy drinking this in.

2005-03-19T11:13:00.000-05:00

lone peak, big sky, montana, 11,166

2005-03-19T11:11:00.000-05:00

fresh snow.

2005-03-19T11:08:00.000-05:00

spring break, montana. i was blessed to be back. it was a time of reunion. being reunited with friends, the land, and peace of mind. the big sky of montana seems to blanket one more than any other place. its grandeur is not something that is frightening, on the contrary, it is quite soothing. it embraces you and, speaking from experience, makes it hard to leave.

2005-02-05T22:20:00.000-05:00

snow

2005-02-05T22:17:00.000-05:00

the rolling hills of virginia

already feb.

2005-02-05T21:49:00.000-05:00

well, i couldn't even manage to post at least one post a month.
i knew i couldn't. maybe because i was trying to.

"sometimes we do things so that others don't think that we want to do them"

pretty good if you know that quote. an amazingly beautifully shot film.

A River Runs Through It plays in my dvd right now.
emery is in the cd player
and Gold Coast Blend is in the coffee pot.

a good saturday. being that the mountains were my companion today. a beautiful day to be in blacksburg. very blessed.

i'll leave you with an image. above this post.

december 13

2004-12-13T16:27:00.000-05:00

it is the 13th.
one day till mom's birthday
one day till my greek final
one day till the extended edition of the return of the king comes out
and 5 days until i leave for china

it snowed today.
it is cold.
a good day for a book and coffee.
a good day to read [but not study]

should've slept later.
work tonight at 6.
till 12.

never went to the bank.
or to studio.

the cellar was good, though.
had the chicken parmesean sub.
very good.

very well.
then.
good tidings.

holiday enthusiasm

2004-12-03T18:31:00.000-05:00

finally some down time. it is strange not to be working. these past two weeks have been spent in studio. we have hit that point in studio where all else is neglected so that our projects can be finished. a good atmosphere, though. the energy and excitement of finishing our projects and ending the semester is great. and everyone is there. not just the 'usuals' you see in studio. everybody. the coffee makers, snacks, stereos, and enough cd's to keep you occupied for a year all start to show up. no other place in a university is like this. hundreds of people around you simply creating. making. designing. it is great.

i'm hungry now. but then it is off to mill moutain [coffee] and then back to studio.

2004-11-19T01:57:00.000-05:00

a new picture... sunrise on the Appalachian Trail @ McAfee Knob, Virginia

PROPORTION

2004-11-19T01:53:00.000-05:00

im also very frustrated with the proportions of the columns on this page.

they just aren't right.

blogger material?

2004-11-19T01:51:00.000-05:00

so, i've concluded that i'm not very good with blogging.
...and within the last semester, i'm not very good at greek.

so. back to my take home (yes, it is still hard).

2004-10-23T20:14:00.000-04:00

and here is a photo of the man himself from the concert. we had a pretty nice table up front

d.webb

2004-10-23T20:07:00.000-04:00

oh yea, i never posted anything about the amazing concert i went to in knoxville a week and half ago. so. here's the post. the concert was amazing. being the first derek webb show ive been to, i kind of went in with these expectations, and i have to say they were pretty much all met.

i was quite surprised. new city cafe in knoxville is an awesome coffee shop/cafe if you ever get a chance to go. and just to throw this out, it is worth the 3.5 hour drive time just for the coffee.

derek was pretty rad, though. played an excellent mix of old and new, intertwined with just the right amount of talking and storytelling. so if you get a chance to see him. go.

2004-10-17T21:23:00.000-04:00

if you haven't seen this... leave your apt right now. this film is a must see. it leaves you wanting more.

the road from wal-mart:

2004-10-14T22:01:00.000-04:00

was the road that had been traveled a hundred times, but was the road that i had never seen before on this trip home. i was listening to track 5 off the new caedmon's cd, which is a song about india. they sang of the people and places, and i could not help but let my mind wander back to the people i had met in taiwan and thailand. and i wondered... could the indian people compare to the human beings that i had met. could they be as hospitable? could they always greet you with a smile? are their hearts ready to released?

and i saw myself surrounded by 30 or so children, and everyone was laughing, and i was playing with them, and picking them up and loving each one of them. because of the overflow in my heart. peace. and in addition to that, as if it is not enough, my parents had come to visit me wherever i was, but they too were getting to experience the love. how complete. i wanted to be there instantly. soon enough.

2004-10-13T19:44:00.000-04:00

from my new york trip

i wonder.

2004-10-13T19:42:00.000-04:00

if there is a minimum number of times one can post before they kick you out of a "blogger" site? I really doubt it, but i just ask to make the point that i don't post very much. Greek is hard, what can i say?

i do have an awesome story from the drive home from wal-mart, but that will just have to wait, it deserves it's own post. i need to get some new pics up too... i know the typing gets a little boring.

OH! but i will say this. if you do not have the new caedmon's call album Share the Well... then I recommend that you best run out and get it!

well, that's all for now.. . peace!

the return.

2004-10-01T00:23:00.000-04:00

from new york. i am still there.

new york.

2004-09-26T00:24:00.000-04:00

is my destination. departing in 12 hours. this will be my first trip to the infamous city. there is definitely a sense of excitement. although a sense of hesitation. sometimes we have these images in our head of a certain place. and we like those images. they are images of a place unknown... a place that has yet to be experienced. in my case, new york city.

all images will be laid to rest, though. i must experience 'place'. i must go. to see the sights. and smell the smells. to understand what it means to stand in times square. to interact with place.

there is definitely excitement in that. i think sometimes we try to hold on to those 'ideal' images of place... or ideal 'images' of people. we cannot continue in that pattern, though. i do not agree with the hesitation i mentioned earlier. we have to go to find out. we have to open up to know. we have to experience others to share. ...

in these experiences.

friday.

2004-09-24T12:27:00.000-04:00

so it's finally friday. why do we wait for this day so? i feel i live from friday to friday. maybe its a consequence of still being in school. it was nice on campus this morning. there is a certain energy early in the mornings that is somewhat paradoxical. "the movement of sleep" i would call it, or maybe a "silent drift". regardless, it's one of those nice experiences where you just take in eveything around you. time stands still, and you truly observe.

be observant today. take the time to notice your surroundings. try to see beauty. and talk to people. enjoy it!

2004-09-24T12:26:00.000-04:00

a block of photographs im working on for the top of my blog. now if i could only figure out how to get it up there.

2004-09-24T01:18:00.000-04:00

a picture of a swing on the Shenandoah River up in the northern past of Virginia

a what?

2004-09-24T01:05:00.000-04:00

try... #2

so i just deleted my first attempt. and so now i have a greek quiz in a little less than a few hours, and i am still sitting here creating a blog... of which i know nothing about. so i will continue on in the naivity of html. so hopefully i will be able to dedicate some time to this, so that if anyone ever reads it, they may find it somewhat interesting.