Well I'm at work right now. Last nights group meeting went well. Had more fun than not. ANyway, I got into work this morning and my phone goes off. My dear mother first tells me to wake up (I had told her that if I was to go home, I'd have to stay awake, BUT if I was to come to school, I could get about an hour of sleep before having to come to work). Anyway, too much info on my part. So, getting back to the phone call, I laugh and say I'm at work and then the most bazzar thing she has ever said trikles from her mouth. She said, "Can you write like a 4th grader"? Talk about bewilderment. My first reaction was to say, "What the f*ck!" But I held my tongue and asked why. She said a parent at her school asked her for information on the Mexican American War for her son. Now, I don't know how you go from "good morning" to "can your son write several paragraphs like a 4th grader for MY son".

So, I'm finding some online information regarding said war and to tell you the truth, I want to go to Mexico City now. Haven't been there in over 22 years. Can't say I remember much.

I came across los ninos heroes de Chapultepec (The children heroes of Chapultepec). Six boys from the military academy stationed at Chapultepec died at the battle for said castle. I came across a website that stated that a boy, so as the Americans wouldn't capture the Mexican flag, wrapped the flag around himself and leapt to his death from the a wall of the castle. Also, I came across La Batalon de San Patricio (St. Patrick's Batallion). They were Irish American soldiers who had disserted the invading army and joined the Mexican defense force. They were upset at how the American "Protestants" were treating the Mexican "Catholics". Either way, they were captured and hanged and Mexico treats them like heroes. That's cool.

Still, I want to go. I've seen some pictures that some guy took of the monument and stuff and ever since I saw the previous to "Motorcycle Diaries", I've been wanting to buy me a Harley and drive south into my fatherland, or is it the mother country. Either way, I want to return to my roots, see what I find, meet a few "muchachas rubias con ojos pardos-verdes-cremosos"(I got this translation from babel fish). You know, the tourist stuff. Anyway, I have to take a quick break from the lack of actual work. I'm tired of non-working.

THings to do before I die:
Travel a shit load.
I think the Europe excursion that DLC-1 took just opened up a whole new world. I want Italy, Spain, REAL Mexico, China, maybe Japan, definetly Hawaii, Chile, Brazil, Egypt for educational mummy info., Wow so many already. I'll have to get back to you on the rest.
Wait, Alaska because of the light show with the weird name. You know, the Arora thingie...Anyway, that too.

I'm on campus right now. I have a group meeting in about 3 1/2 hours and am about to start researching my topic. I think I actually like this group.

Went to the Battleship Texas yesterday. THanks for being my contact Em-J. The intel you supplied was accurate. I was the semi-tour guide although most of the information I was spewing was general crap that most five year olds would know. Ok, well I guess I must first inform you on why I was tour guide. My sister and brother-in-law are taking care of two teenage boys. They were the ones I was guiding through the battleship. The park authorities have openned a lot more of the ship to guests. That's the part I like. Anyway, made friends with a young boy there. He was touring the ship with his mom. It seemed that we kept bumping into each other all over the ship. She was more adventurous than he was. My "group" went down into the engine area and from behind I could hear the boy saying he was scared and wouldn't go down there because it was dark. She went down first and he followed. After that, the boy couldn't help but be amazed at the magnitude of the engines and the compact spacing of everything. I laughed and mentioned to the mother that this couldn't be the boy who was scared not five minutes before. She said that it helped that there were other people around. I think that's true. We are more brave when others are around. I went down into the dark engine area because I didn't want the boys to think I was chickenshit, which I was until I got to the bottom and saw other people down there. Shhh, don't tell anyone my confession. I'll deny it. As we were leaving and on the gangway, the boy saw me and yelled out "hi". Cool kid. One of the last times we bumped into each other he saw me first and said, "We meet again." All that was missing was an Dr. Evil voice and I would have cracked up. Anyway, Em-J, took your advice and had some fun. Three things were missing, though. Can you think of them?

I'm at work again. Wow:( Anyway, I feel all alone because Matt just left for home, Em-J hasn't answered phone calls and I haven't talked to Andy in a while. It seems that DLC isn't going to do anything this weekend. Hey Emily, hope that vegetable soup worked.

Well, that's about it. My sister and brother-in-law are coming into town tonight. Can I stay over at any of ya'll's house this weekend? Please say yes. It doesn't matter if it's on the floor. Just kidding. Just have a headache the size of a super sized whataburger. Hey, that sounds good right about now. I think I'll get one after I rent "The Grudge". It is out, isn't it? Anyway, I'll find out later.

I'm supposed to be working but I went for a cigarette and took my radio with me. I came across a spanish station with some good music. Actually, I think we're supposed to be boycotting these stations because if what happened to 101 KLOL. Anyway, besides the point. So, I'm listening to the music and I actually found myself wanting to dance. Come to think of it, I used to be a good dancer. I wonder what happened. I can't even remember why I stopped listening to spanish music. I think I was introduced to Modest Mouse and the like. Anyway, I have my head phones playing that station as I write. I miss cumbias and rancheras. I can't believe I just said that. Then again, I grew up listening and dancing to such music. It's actually pretty fun when you think about it, especially if you dance the way I do. I have no pattern and I act like a fool. I may not know how to dance the way normal people do, but I do entertain myself and those around me. I remember getting into arguments with my partner because they knew how to dance the way you're SUPPOSED to, and I, well, I dance the way I want to. I march to the beat of my own drum. Actually, I have no drum, I just march until I get tired and then I rest where ever I want to. I think I took that analogy as far as I want to. No logical conclusions here mind you. Anyway, just thought I should share that because I'm bored right now and the library is semi-empty. Hey, I have an idea! Let's go dancing?

I've been everywhere where I haven't wanted to be. Amazing! Anyway, I'm in the library right now. Imagine that! Anyway, I have a quiz in about an hour and a half and I'm not prepared for it. What! That's right. I've been here almost all day and done absolutely nothing. Well, enough of my bullshit...

I haven't felt up to working on my Chaucer stuff. I've finished about four out of ten things to do for that class. I feel bad but I also don't feel like doing it. In fact, i give myself an A! Yeah, me!!! Doesn't work like that, does it? I know but worth a try.

It's hump day. That actually sounds bad. I should say I'm half way to the weekend. Actually, again, tonights my last class of the week. Except for work, I have nothing to do for the rest of the week. Maybe I can work on it then. I'm doubtful, but the thought counts, right?

Had a good weekend. Drinks,laughs and secrets revealed.

You Are 22 Years Old

22 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... Love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

A question posed one night. What is love?
Breathless, sense of empty-fullness, Earthly gaze entwined with the immaterial perfection of Heaven.

Wow, love is that craving in the pit of your stomach as you see someone in the distance with the walk, sway of the hips and flick of the hair as the one you want to see; crave to see. Even though the figure is too far for you to actually know who they are, you know them by all those things and a twinge in the soul. Your heart skips and that little pain in your chest numbs all other emotions. As you see their recognized smile, Every sensation in your body explodes, implodes, collapses and is rebuilt in that person.
Happiness is also a part of the whole picture. Happiness for its own sake. The obliteration of self for the good of the other. A smile for me means that I'd give everything up for the person I love, just for one more smile. Self-sacrificial lamb of sorts when it comes to love. Sacrifice myself for the other to be happy. Doesn't mean death, although that's one of the sacrifices, but the denial of good BAD HABITS.
The touch, OH MY GOD, the touch! Have you ever stepped into a dark room and have the hairs on the back of your neck stand up like some static charge shot up your back? Same thing. Cold fingertips, warm cheeks, soft lips. All the same with different sensations. They all go straight to the brain, by this time the brain is screaming, "YE-HAW!!!" The hands go through the hair, softly. Headaches, what headaches!? That touch just makes the world around you disappear. Slow dancing is worse. The hand on the small of your back, your shoulder, your arm. It's like a deep massage in public. It carresses the soul.
There are no flaws in love. Every little thing is something curiously perfect in love, which it is in itself. Every thought and every action, no matter how questionable, is perfect. You may know they are not, but who cares. They are, for all intense purposes, perfect in their own right. We may find them irritating, but without that flaw, they are not who they are to us. They are something different.

Love's a bitch, ladies and gentlemen. Hopeless Romantics UNITE! I'd give all for love. And it's true, "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Only if your a masochist.
The above is only in a perfect society, but if you've felt that way before, then your perfect society exists in love.

Bicentennial Man
Rupert: "Your jealous."
Andrew: "No I'm not."
Rupert: "Your jealous!"
Andrew: "No I'm not!"
Rupert: "You are. Otherwise what arte you doiing sneaking around here spying on Portia?"
Andrew: "My God, I am jealous. If I'm jealous that means I'm in love. If I'm in love then all hope is gone. I've lost her."

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
Wonka: "Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker."

I'm in Great Presidents class. I walked in late. Shouldn't have come because I feel like crap and I don't want to listen for the next 2 hours. I still have to work tonight. I should have just gone to work and slept before going to work. I didn't get my book from the book store. I went, it was there, but I didn't want to walk back to the business office and ask for a book voucher and then walk back to the bookstore. Too much trouble. I didn't think that people would have it. It seems I ASSumed wrong. I want this class to be over with. Some of the people from my Irish History class are here. Even that annoying girl that fired Andres. Anyway, professor is speaking and I'm trying to listen, but I'm also trying not to cough. We'll find out if I can do both.

I can't pick my choices for the books because I don't have my book. Funny thing is, I have my check book in my backpack. It serves me right that I never carried it before when I had him, and now that I do, he changes his methodology. Slow learner much?!

Help! Calgon take me away!!!

Shadows, that seems to be all that remains. Not even that for shadow has an image for us to see, for us to recognize. It's sad to say that my mind is shrouded by such, but it must be said. The mucus, the teary eyes, the soar throat, and on and on and on. Popped pills to relieve the pain. Didn't work. Took more. Still nothing.
Suddenly, nothing was all I saw. Oops, too many!

Shadows, cower in the corner, clustered and convulsing. Colliding with the conundrum concealed in...Fuck, no more "C's" to use.

Sick and tired of torturing the turmoil of the total spirit we call life. Tremendous and translucent, we seem too intent on tearing time from the hands of children, and giving it to totalitarian dictators. Turn towards the distant tremblings of the sky and tuck the torn paper under your T-shirt...Shit, I'm out of "T's".

In case you're wondering, I don't want to work on my research. Wasting time is what I do best:)

Eyes, Eyes. What to say about eyes. They shine maybe, or maybe they don't shine but twinkle like diamonds as they are brought to the surface for the first time. A diamond doesn't know what color it wants to be, so it's all the colors. You hold it delicately in your hands and gaze into it, loss yourself and your soul to it. Imprisoned forever, willfully.
Maybe it's the moist lips, shining, glistening in the light of day. Like rain with no clouds in the sky. Refreshing and warm. Cool to the cheek, but warm on the lips. They press and you press. The curves, the depressions, the twist, the motion; You see it all in a millisecond, never wanting to betray or dissolve what you see. Memorizing every little thing about them.
Maybe there is no sensation but the one we feel. No physicality involved, just pure emotion. It's the sweet pain in your chest as you intuit the image. An image of subjective pureness. An image of your making, but inspired by reality.
What if it's only the hair that sways in the warm breeze of a spring day? Nothing. Nothing changes. Clouded in the mind alone, but in the hours of the day, nothing is cloudy, only golden sun, illuminated for all to see. And in that freedom of time, you stop! It's there where perfection lies. Don't let them tell you otherwise. Perfection is your reality, subjective as it may be. Bundle it all up and leave room for more because that's what makes it perfect.

Ahh, time to be positive.
Here's a little ditty about birds and blue skies.

There's a hunger in the distance, blue skies and birds. There's nothing more to listen to but the chirp, chirp, chirp of the birds at play. The trees are green and vegetation-like. They sway in the soft breeze and they shiver in ecstacy. The trees love children and toys. They love to look down on them and shade them as they play. Ahh, turn into a tree and watch, why don't you?

Under the skies, the birds chirp and chirp. The swing in the distance moves alone and the soft sqeek as it moves is reverberated all the way back to the children at play. The grass, well, you can hear that rustle under foot. I see from on high the children at play. The parents in the distnace chat about their perfect lives and how they will do better than their parents. Many do and the children laugh. It's all a game. It's all the way life is because perfection is in the mind and heart. And to think, it all started with skies and birds. Happy images of the world we live in and the world we live by.

Something not changed, changed by the autmn light.
Spring never sprung as wetlands become desolate sanctuaries for the night.
Summer, what summer?
Seniority, fraternity, fractionalization and the like.
Seems like nothing changes in the moon light.

Thumbs up and fingers down.
Tomorrow brings different issues that we never see coming until they are upon us.
Tonight, the night in general, has o feelings but for the lust of blood.
Tongues lash at the open coke bottle, leaving you wondering, "Why coke?"
Tinker-bell had nothing on me.

Ultra-violet rays in the sky.
Ultimate destruction that comes from it to us, sharing its waste.
Under the deep seductive eclipse of nihilo.
Umbrellas that tell you which way to go.
Undecided as to listen or not.

I think I realized why I liked being abroad. I think it's because here, I'm just me, but over there, I'm some dumb American who walks on the right when I'm supposed to walk on the left and I can't speak French. I'm some kind of personified American expansion that is frowned upon. In some ways, that makes me kind of special. But you take me here, among other Americans and I'm really not all that great. I can't even say I'm average. Wierd, huh?

Anyway, It's about 4 in the morning and I feel rested. Really didn't think that I'd suffer jetlag, but like I said, it's 4 in the morning and I'm up and writing in my blog. The airport was crowded with people. Us Americans got shifted forward in line and the rest were pushed back. Blah, blah, blah. It was pretty simple. I've heard horror stories about the airports that I expected soldiers, machine guns, bomb/drug/undies sniffing dogs. I expected the biggest, meanest private to say, "Drop them, buddy!" But alas, that did not happen. Anyway, I'm stupid and haven't been abroad before. I guess I've seen too many movies.

Anyway, back home now. Ready to NOT do anything, but party my ass off. HINT, HINT...

A box of chocolate.
DLC
Hoc meus veritas est!
Life is an odd thing when you live abroad for a short time. I expected so much and got it. It's all a blur from here on in because these weird places and sights weren't the extraordinary part about it. It was two others that made this trip the best for me. If I could only orate what is in my mind, you'd cry.

I sit here wondering what is happening back home. I really don't have to wonder because I know; Life goes on. I've never felt more alone than I do now. I've realized that I'm really not the center of the universe, even though I already knew that. I've spoken to family back home only for them to tell me that I've missed so much in exchange for living life here for two weeks. No, they didn't say it like that, but the sentiment is there. It's a shitty feeling knowing that to get one thing, you must give up another. I'm not that kind of person. I hate having to make decisions like that. If I could, I'd be in thousands of places at one time, only because I hate missing things. London and Paris are great places in themselves, Paris just a little more on the odorise side. I wish a lot of things, none of which came true. None pertaining to the trip. No difference, no change. I did not get some thrust of information just by being on this island. The only thing that made this place bearable were the friends that shared the weird expereinces with me. We have stories to tell, even if they are not great ones, they are memorable ones. Something to tell the children about later in life when they can appreciate them.

[Just remembered: I want to be a brides maid!]

What else is this lousy mind of mine thinking? I can't remmeber, but it's nothing good.

Don't get me wrong, my flaws and my ideas having no bearing on what this places is truly like. It's a wonderful place that is cold 99% of the time. Especailly the time we've been here. It adds to the difference of Houston weather that changes every 10 minutes. With everything we've tried to cram into these last couple of days, well, lets just say our cclass work has suffered. I wish a lot of things, one of which, I wish I could hide here. Hell, I wish I could hide somewhere and never come out. Let time pass me by. Turn me into one of those damn statues we keep coming across. I want to be solid, stiff, unchanging, unwavering, strong, never wrong. I want for people to see what was designed for them to see, instead of the true me. I'm tired. I'm tired of everything. Fighting, lossing, winning. I'm just tired...
Illa est meus veritas!

Two things the young should do: Stay pretty and die young.
What movie is that from?

So, how are things back there in the good U.S. of A? Good, I hope. Anyway, I am at this moment down stairs of our little humble abode, Bas Froid, which I believe stands for "Cold Fish", not sure mind you. Anyway, it has its good and its bad. Em-J says we should call it Wet Carpet because the carpet under her bed was wet and the room had an odd smell.

We went to see Jim Morisson's tomb/grave thingie. Sorry, no bust. I got everyone lost when we first got there. Thankfully, and after some excruciating uphill stair climbing, Em-J and Matt found it. Actually, I think Em-J found it first. Someone found the guy who painted "The Raft _____" something or other, cant remember who it was. Anyway, the cool part was having some guy out of no where guide us to Oscar Wilde's grave thingie. I tried my limited French, but thankfully the guy knew English and Spanish.

McDonald's here is not what it is in the states. We found this out the hard way. I think we all had some strange effect after eating there. Mostly, I believe, it was because we were nervous and it was the first time we had even attempted asking for something to eat. Em-J said she thought she was about to cry when we were ordering her food. I thought I was going to cry when I had to say, "Je ne parle francias" to some kids because they had asked for the way out of Pere Lanchaise (Cemetery where Jim is). Imagine that! Then again, the kid spoke fast and I'm slow.

I haven't been much of a guide this weekend. My limited French and my bad sense of direction seems to get us into trouble, but alas, we all chip in and get us out of it.

We've come across some bad waiters, bad smells in the subways and beyond, some creepy guys but some awesome sights and the first person (Nadia) we spoke to at the Love and Peace Hostel was extremely nice and helpful, not to mention cute. We saw the Eiffel Tower light up three times, once when we were under it. Sorry, couldn't go up because of the line and the price. We got a lot of pictures, though. We did go up the Arc du Triomphe. That was cool. We even visited the Moulin Rouge, the Louvre and Notre Dame Cathedral. Not in that order, but you get the jest. We walked the Champ L'Elysee. We were kind of scared when we first arrived. Hell, I was extremely intimidated as soon as the Eurostar stopped at Gare du Nord. I couldn't think straight. Em-J came up with the idea of buying a map. But now, I believe that we can go back to London with confidence that we didn't possess before.

P.S. --> I changed the time to show what time it was when I was writing this in Paris, but I think it's about 7pm, 8th of June in Houston.