Labor day is on the horizon and now that Kate is back in Chicago, I'm heading up there myself tomorrow to spend the rest of the week and weekend living at her dorm room. She's only been back in Chicago for 2 or 3 days, and it already feels like such a relief to have her back. I'm still in Aurora, but the train rides feel a little bit easier to weather knowing I'm so close to her. Even more, it's now possible for me to just hop in the car and drive up to see her.

I was sitting outside this morning thinking about where I'm at now and forming my game plans. My thoughts could not help but revert back to what I was doing a year ago, and how incredibly different things are now. I sat there, like I was writing a political election ad, thinking "Am I better off now than I was a year ago?" and the answer is simply, and undeniably, "Yes." There are a few things I would change right now if I had the ability - namely: Chicago Aparment + Job - but other than that I guess I really am kind of happy. Okay, fine, I am happy.

Ima make grilled cheese now.

I've been sitting here reading back over the installments of this blog. Since June 2005. I've actually had a blog since 2002. Originally I was on LiveJourney. Yes, Journey. You see, back in the day LiveJournal required either payment or an invite. I was never cool enough to get an invite from anyone and Blogger seemed too intimidating, so LiveJourney was the obvious choice to blog on. Then LiveJourney went down and I crossed over into Blogger land.

For the sake of my own curiousity... this is the very first blog entry I ever made:

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My first entry in this thing and yet I have frighteningly little to say. I wanted to start one of these things for a while, and now that I have it I must admit I'm more than a little hesitant to write in it. It seems so... exhibitionistic, if that's even a word.

I wandered around school all day today trying to find a moment to ask Mr. Olson for a letter of recommentation. Goddamn, the man sure is popular. Every time I went by his office he was talking to someone, either other students or teachers, or administrators.. or the janitor. I finally took up root outside his office and staked my position a little down the hall, waiting for an opportunity to make my way over - without really looking like I was waiting. Strange, yeah I know.

I really hated the thought of asking for this letter. It wasn't that I was worried he'd say "No." and leave this very awkward air behind, but that I just felt like I was.. putting more work on him. So I was basically stressing all day figuring out exactly how to bring it up. I settled on a typically humble and weak, "Mr. Olson? Hi! How are you? I was wondering if you'd be willing to.... etc."

Anyhow, when he finally was free he was on his way to the bathroom (I think) and so I ended up stopping him in the hall. As I suspected, it was over before it even began and he quickly said he'd be happy to write me a letter up if I gave him a list of the classes I'd taken from him and what I'd done. Sweet. So I got the one letter of recommendation I need to transfer. Woo! I'm going to see how this film class goes and if I can build up a good relationship with this teacher as well (he reminds me of a priest I once knew.. even look like him. Sometimes it's creepy..). I think transfering to a film school with recommendations from a film teacher and a Sociology professor should work nicely. Now to just apply..

I've got my photogprahy class, which I am loving, later tonight. But honestly.. I don't want to go. It's cool and the instructor is nice and friendly and competent, but I'm just not in the mood for more learning. Meh. We'll see...

Driving has been insane lately. I think I'm a relatively safe and good driver, though I'm not a fraid of the gas pedal per se (okay, I admit it - I enjoy a little speed now and then). I mean, I made the concious decision to not drive till I was 18. I had the permit and everything for like two years before I got my license. I simply didn't feel that I was ready for that step. Sorry - maybe I sound like a pretentious kill-joy, but I don't think *any* of you 16 year olds are either.

Anyway - getting into the car requires a few aspirin from the get-go and by the time I reach my destination I'm so totally stressed I might as well finish off the bottle. From watching those fucking SUV's change lanes INTO my poor Focus, to people on bikes intent on being run over, to the seeming inability of people to keep up during turn signals and allowing all the more people to make the light.. Arghhh! It's so furstrating.

I am such a misanthrope.

Okay.. time for a nap. That's where I'm a pirate !

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It's strange to be now completely finished with school and read back to 2002 where my concern then was simply getting into Columbia. Now it's all behind me and my concern is where I'm going now.

For the record, Mr. Olson never did write my letter of recomendation. But, Mr. Ogorman - the film teacher - did. It's a glowing, flattering letter that made me feel very good about myself. He was a fantastic teacher, and it's kind of sad that out of almost all the teachers at Columbia he remains one of my favorite film instructors.


I don't have any words right now.

There are certain things between lovers that mean more than they would under other circumstances. Some things that are relatively meaingless with one person, that mean the world with someone else. A significance that isn't present in the act itself, but rather in what it represents. How it reflects the growth and depth of the relationship. A reflection of intimacy, love and trust. And a rare beauty, that stands unaparalled, against the rest.