this room is leaving me behind.

For as long as I can remember, change has bothered me. Not so much the changes I can control, but the changes I can't control. I don't mind change so long as I have chosen to implement it. If I've ever told you, or you've ever heard me quoted as saying, "Change is inevitable...change is beautiful...change makes the world go round (I distinctly remember writing that in an essay once)..." or something like that, don't call me up and start arguing with me. I realize I say some contradictory things. I am a contradictory thing. "I'm a walking contradiction." I love and hate almost everything almost equally. I am of differing opinions about most things over the course of a day. Today I presented arguments against one thing and then for that very same thing within a single topic within a single conversation within a single glass of beer. I don't know. Love me or leave me but don't try to change me.

Here's what's bugging me. When people change, which is one of those changes I can't control, one of those changes nobody consults me on, it really bothers me. I don't like it. I'm hurt, depressed, angry, confused. Like I said earlier this weekend while some friends and I were talking about these changed people, when you're friends with someone, you make an investment. It's give and take. (And don't start with me. I know that sometimes I take more than I give. There may be some people reading this and thinking, "Huh. Well, he hasn't called me lately." I'll call you soon, promise.) But you make an investment. Two people start a friendship together, you nuture it, you can see immediately its potential and you take the proper steps to insure that this friendship reaches its potential and that you are both able to reap the rewards that a proper friendship has to offer.

You offer someone your couch to crash on. You clean the vomit off of that couch. They buy you lunch and you laugh about it. They cry, your shoulder gets wet and salty and they thank you the next day when they feel better. You give them a couch for their new apartment. You then crash on their new couch. You call them from a foreign country and they throw you a party when you get back. Time passes. Lives get busy and you don't see eachother as much but that's the way it goes. People have things to do, it doesn't mean anything.

Or does it?

Does it mean that during this time apart they turn into exactly the people you dislke most in the world? Do they go throwing their bodies and emotions around with reckless abandon? These same bodies and emotions you encouraged them to safeguard and treat with respect and share only with those who most deserve and respect them? Do they forget who they are, who they have been and who they can become?

Apparently that's exactly what it means.

You gotta keep 'em separated.

List! So I meant to do this a while back but here it is now. A top 5 list. What are your top five favorite songs from artists that you don't actually like? You hate the artist, and, in spite of yourself, can't deny that you enjoy one of their songs. Which ones are they? Careful. If you think a Creed song might sneak on your list, don't mention it here. I don't want to know about that. Here are mine:

George Michael - "Faith"
Jewel - "Foolish Games"
Nelly Furtado - "Like a Bird"
Seal - "Kiss From a Rose"
Dave Matthews Band - "Crash"

get that future out of my face.

Recently, I made a list of the careers/hobbies I want to have. I want to:

-own and operate a Turkish restaurant and a restaurant with a variety of options
-teach History
-coach high school baseball and/or GM a major league team
-own a woodshop and craft fine, handmade wood furniture
-make a movie, of stills (photos) which is also silent
-there were others but I have forgotten them.
-write a book.

I would like to live in Germany, along the Rhine, for maybe a few years. I would also like to have some kids, little girls. Little girls, like cats, you can ignore and they end up mostly ok. They don't really want to have anything to do with you anyway. Just kidding mostly.

Big Papi.

Big Papi.
Originally uploaded by jmporter.

David Ortiz is amazing. Another walk-off win. Clutch.

Mr. and Mrs. Keazer

IMG_4677
Originally uploaded by jmporter.

Well. They're hitched. It was awesome. There are some pictures of the rehearsal, pre-wedding preparation and the reception at my flickr page.

Those crazy kids.

Those crazy kids.
Originally uploaded by jmporter.

Can you believe it? They're actually getting married. Those crazy kids. This Saturday at 4pm on Whitney Mountain. If you want to wish them well, or, even better, get them a gift, check out their page on the knot.com

I like a Pop-Tart every once in a while.

Do yourself a favor and read this.

My New Bike

My New Bike
Originally uploaded by jmporter.

Here's my sweet new bike. Got it for $100, it's in great shape. I just cleaned it up, put some new handlebar tape on it, aired up the tires and bought a helmet. Did I mention it's sweet? Thinking of a name for it...

The sweetest thing.

On August 20, after a day full of surprises, I got down on one knee and proposed to Jamie. She said yes. We've been happily engaged for nearly a month now, making plans and moving along. Jamie shows off her ring every chance she gets. We designed it together at Romance Diamond Company on Dickson Street and they custom made in a few weeks. We're getting married on June 3, 2006.

Note: We'll try to get a picture of us and, more importantly, the ring, as soon as we can.

The truth, well you know there's no stopping it.

It's time for updates. One-liners, headliners. There are so many things going on it would be impossible to summarize the last month and a half.

Tomorrow (later today) I start my evening job at Butterfield Trail Village, washing dishes. Should be fine, perfect hours for me, 5pm-9pm three nights a week, every other weekend. As soon as the school year starts and settles down I imagine there will be plenty of substitute positions for my Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. If not, I could probably work with my dad or find something else.

Amber's having a baby girl in November. She seems really excited and I'm happy for her if she's happy for herself.

My mom and Mike went to Rhode Island for a sailing course and are now licensed sailers and are looking for a lady of their own.

Only 9 hours away from my bachelors degrees in History and German.

Things going swimmingly with Jamie, we're in love, making plans.

I really like the new White Stripes album.

"The Ballad of Jack and Rose" was really good. Touching, in ways both chilling and heart-warming. "The Skeleton Key" was interesting, different. And it was free. Thanks Shook.

I think that's a decent start. It should get the ball rolling, at the very least.

You know where I've been, you know where I'm coming from.

I've been home for a little over a month now. Arkansas is the place to be. I could have been posting, there are things to be said, but I have been busy. I'll get back to that soon, hang in there. Like I said, there are things to be said. Soon you will hear them. "You'll be the first and last to know."

Tomorrow.

So. In 39 hours I will be home. 39 hours sounds like a long time. Tonight at 8pm, Christian and Romana are picking me up at the apartment and we're going for a beer on the way to the train station. My train leaves Graz at 9:26 and arrives in Vienna just after midnight. Austria thinks nobody wants to go anywhere, least of all to the airport, after 7pm, so I'll have to take a taxi to the airport. I'll either check my bags when I get there or sleep on top of them in the airport until 5am, when I can check in. My plane leaves Vienna at 7:05am Vienna-time (12:05am Arkansas time). It will take about an hour and a half to get to London. My plane leaves London at 10:35am London-time. Or as I like to call it, "stepping time." (You like that one, Jamie?) About 7 and a half hours later, I'll be in Chicago. Back on our time. The real time. In the real world. My last plane leaves Chicago at 4:55pm and I'll be in Arkansas at 6:45.

I was hoping to sleep late today, sleep most of the day away so maybe it would go faster. But no. I woke up at 8:30. Last night the idea of sitting in my apartment watching Austrian TV was horrifying, so I went to the Royal English Cinema and saw "Batman Begins." I liked it. That's really all I'm going to say about it. I thought it was great, exactly what I wanted it to be, entertaining. I was home at about 11:45 and went to bed, rolled around for an hour or two and fell asleep. That was the last night I will sleep on the world's most uncomfortable mattress, without a pillow. My bags are completely packed. Everything fit, which surprised me. Actually, I think I did a better packing job this time than when I came over here. In my backpack I put just clothes, top to bottom except for a few books at the top. So bottom to almost top. In the suitcase there are some more clothes for padding, my computer and two bottles of wine. Hopefully the bottles don't break and ruin my computer. That would be a double whammie. I need to burn my pictures and music onto CDs and erase them from my hard drive when I get home. My computer is choking to death because of all those pictures.

Yesterday I went to the last two home games of the season. Unforunately the Dirty Sox lost both games, and both games were called early according to the mercy rule. Before I went to the game I went over to the train station and bought my ticket for tonight. Since it was Sunday, the only grocery store open was the Spar at the train station. So I got some sandwich stuff and snacks for a one-man picnic at the baseball field. I met Romana's parents, Tommy's parents and Tommy's best friend, who is a nice woman whose name I have forgotten because I'm a terrible person who forgets nice people's names. I tried to explain baseball to Romana's dad, but that's hard to do in English and nearly impossible in German.

Ah, I've been in here too long. I'm going to go pick up some döner, take a shower and make sure everything is in its right place.

I'll be home tomorrow. Can you stomp to that beat? I can stomp to that beat.

Three Days.

Today I turned in my last papers and pick up some of my grades. I stayed up all night doing them, that's sort of my style. Once I admitted to myself that they didn't have to be perfect and that something was better than nothing, it went pretty smoothly. I picked up some groceries, went to the apartment, made tacos, ate too many tacos, watched "Bull Durham" and fell asleep. After I woke up I cleaned my room some more and vacuumed. I hope I can get everything packed up and to the airport with as little stress as possible. Three days. I narrowly avoided some sort of breakdown this week. Things were looking pretty dire. I haven't felt that way since high school, out of control like that, like I had no control over my thoughts. It went away though. I'm not sure why the walls started closing in on me, so close to being home. I sure wish I was home already. I wish I was home in May. But I'll take three days.

Some things I think and I think you should know:

The most popular dance song in Austria this summer is "Summer of '69" by Bryan Adams. No, I'm not kidding. It's not a remix either. Bryan ****ing Adams.

Escalators are a very dramatic way of going up and down.

I want to like Keith Foulke. He's probably more frustrated than the fans are. But if you're paid to do a certain job, and you can't do it, maybe you shouldn't do it, or at least shouldn't be paid for it. And you certainly shouldn't insult the people who are paying you to do the job you're not doing.

Tom Cruise needs to disappear for 8 to 12. Just go away. Take a breather. For everyone's sake.

I'm more dependent on the internet than I ever thought I would be.

I'm nervous about Bush nominating Supreme Court Justices.

Ugh. Way too many tacos.

My girlfriend is super awesome.

One week away.

Eye Candy.

Whew. Just finished uploading a lot of pictures on to Flickr. I organized them into sets according to where and when tehy were taken, but I only titled a few of them. Only time will tell if I get around to titling them all, it may have to wait until I get back or at least until that period bewtween my finals and my flight home. I think I fixed the countdown clock, it should be correct now but I'm not sure, that thing confuses me. Since I've been back in Graz, I've gone back to a high-fiber, high fruit and vegetable, low fat diet and I'm feeling a lot better. Three weeks of red wine, pizza, beer and pork made me feel a little sluggish. The trip with Jay and David was a lot of fun, good times, no fighting, great weather for the most part. Check out the pictures. As far as the pictures are concerned, my biggest regret is that I didn't get more pictures of the statue of John the Baptist in Florence. It is a really interesting statue and I think would have made a better picture if I'd stood a little farther to the right. Oh well. Wow, this computer lab is hot. It's time for dinner too.

Two Weeks Notice.

I will be home in two weeks. I will rejoice, you will rejoice. Let's all rejoice together.

Back in Graz. 22 days and counting.

Hello, we (Jay, David and I) are back in Graz now. We got in last night around 9:30. I've got to go to class and do some homework over the next couple of days. On Thursday, we're going to Munich for a couple of days before Jay flies out on Sunday. I took a lot of pictures, maxed out both of my CF cards, but I'm not sure if I'll get the chance to upload them. It might have to wait until I am home, in 22 days. 22 days.

Italy.

Hello. Tonight I'm taking a night train to Milan to pick up Jay from the airport. We are doing a short trip in north Italy and then coming back to Graz for a few days before he flies out of Munich on the 19th. The plan looks something like this:

June 3 and 4: Florence
June 5 and 6: Le Cinque Terre
June 7-9: Venice
June 10 and 11: Hallstatt
June 12-16: Graz
June 17-19: Munich

That's the plan anyway. Hopefully things will go smoothly. Hopefully speaking Italian won't be so neccessary. Those of you who are the important one(s) will receive frequent updates on our whereabouts. No, I won't have as much fun on this trip with Jay as I had on our trip, Jamie.

Berlin.

This afternoon I'm taking a train to Vienna and then taking a night train to Berlin to visit some friends for a few days. I'll be in Berlin until Tuesday morning, when I'll be back in Graz. If you don't get any e-mail and you check the blog and are not entertained, I'm sorry. Have a great week.

You finish the sentence.

Use the comments to finish this sentence:

Of all the little things in life, one of my favorite things to do is...

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

There was a time when the idea of "living peacefully" would have sounded really boring. I'm not sure what exactly changed, but living peacefully is exactly what I want these days. I really like the idea of being married, having a house, teaching history, doing yard work and sitting in a hammock with my wife. I don't want to climb any mountains or swim the Atlantic. Those aren't the sort of challenges that interest me. Making your wife happy is enough of a challenge. Raising happy, healthy kids is a challenge with valuable results. Don't get me wrong, there will be joy and excitement and passion for the people and things in my life. But not for the sort of things that will put my name in the news, and that's just fine with me. There are plenty of people out there to whom that's important.

Up to date...

Hello. Last week was pretty busy. Busy for me anyway. On Thursday, Josef, Betti, Jenna, Casey and I drove to Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. As strange as it sounds to say, "I went to Croatia last week," it's only an hour and a half from here, and we had to drive across another country (Slovenia) to get there. We walked around the old part of the city, saw the cathedral, marketplace, old city walls, a pharmacy (still doing business) first mentioned in records in 1355 and had lunch at a cool, partially underground restaurant. Zagreb looked like a bigger, dirtier, poorer Graz. Which it is, essentially. I was hoping for a little more Slavic look about it, a little more "eastern." It was a nice trip though. We got a passport stamp in Slovenia when we crossed the border, but none in Croatia because nobody was there to do the stamping. See the pictures.

Wow, could this computer lab be any warmer? I submit that it could not.

WARNING: EPISODE III SPOILERS.
On Friday, Betti, Jenna, Casey and I went to see Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith. Here's what I think about it: The dialogue was once again the weakest spot. Is it the dialogue's (and therefore George Lucas') fault alone? Not in my opinion. Sometimes dialogue and delivery just make me cringe. In the case of Hayden Christensen, both do the deed. His lines are just plain bad and he delivers them badly. In my opinion, Ian McDiarmid, who plays Chancellor "soon-to-be Emperor" Palpatine, really flubbed the throaty, raspy, evil voice of the Emperor after he is deformed by his own Dark Side "lightning." Those are pretty much my only complaints. Well, one more maybe. I think Lucas and ILM take the digital scenery a little too far. It's glitzy and distracting. Maybe that's the point, I don't know. Other than that, I thought the story of Anakin's turn to the Dark Side played out pretty well. I think it would have been unrealistic(?) if he just turned out to be a bad apple and turned because of his own inner turmoil. As it is though, he's being pushed and pulled from all sides, three at least. I kind of felt sorry for him. Then he got burned alive and I thought maybe he got part of what he deserved. Maybe I'll see it again next week at the big fancy theater at Potsdamer Platz.

It seemed like last week was more eventful than that but maybe it wasn't. I did a lot of walking around. I didn't have any classes Monday or Tuesday so that was nice. We had a stupid meeting today about what to do when you're getting ready to go home, how to de-register(?) and how to go about proving to your university that you took classes here, which apparently is not the job of the Office of International Relations. Maybe they can't squeeze it in between 10 and 12. In that case they should think of extending their hours and their responsibilities.

43 days and I'll be home. Jamie assures me that she still loves me and is looking forward to seeing me on July 5th. So I've got that going for me. The weather is a little warmer although it has been raining off and on recently. Looking forward to coming home.

New things...

Hi, I put some more pictures up, pictures from the day trip to Croatia, the farmer's market and lunch in the park. Soon I'll post again about the Croatia trip, Episode III and this past week.

Full Circle.

Like I said earlier, it’s flipping awesome that Britton is playing baseball. There are a lot of reasons that I like baseball so much. The fact that my six year old nephew and I might have something like baseball (or frisbee or model trains, it wouldn’t matter really) that we can do together and talk about, really excites me. I wish I was home for that. My only concern is that some punk kid or group of punk kids will ruin it for him the way they ruined it for me when I was younger. There was about nine or ten years where I didn't want to have anything to do with baseball or sports in general because I couldn't watch baseball or talk about it without thinking about those punk kids or their punk fathers. Anyway, I hope playing baseball is a source of fun, and fun only, for Britton and that he makes friends and enjoys himself. Hopefully that enjoyment will last longer than some of my hobbies did when I was his age and maybe we can play together when I get home.

For about five years I was a real jerk. I'd like to think there were legitimate reasons for me to be moody and grumpy and impossible to please. I'd like to think so but it may not be true. I’d like to think all of that is over, that there is nothing of that left in me or still going on at times. I'd like to think so but it may not be true. I’ve been known to spit nails and have done so recently. Junior high was really hard for me. Did I make it harder than it might have been otherwise? Sure. But it was hard. I was angry, I was lonely, I was unhappy and I was all of those things at the same time, most of the time. Looking back (which is a phrase I don't like to use) I think one of the reasons I felt that way is because I didn’t have an identity that I liked. Maybe nobody does and I was taking it the wrong way. I don't know. But I tried really hard to please the people around me, to be whoever I thought they might like me to be, and it usually didn't work. Which in turn made me angry/lonely/sad. Looking back, the only people whose opinions should have mattered to me are Matt and my mother. More often than I'd like to admit, they had to deal with a lot of my nonsense. My mother should be immediately considered for sainthood and Matt deserves a lifetime of my respect and gratitude and friendship. I'd walk around a lot less embarrassed about the things I said and did over those five years if I had realized sooner that they are people too, not characters in a melodrama starring me. It took a while to realize that, it took a while to recognize that the world is real, it is real to everyone and everyone exists within the same world. I’m not sure how I missed that. I have at times had difficulty with my perception, both visual and metaphysical.

Where is this going?

Britton was born on December 7, 1998. I was in tenth grade. Completely unbeknownst to him then and now and maybe forever, he had a lot to do with helping me realize that the people in my life are people, and they are no more characters in my reality as I am a character in theirs. I didn't imagine Britton coming into existence and then he did. It was completely outside of my control and understanding. Being there, or close to there, as someone comes into the world is an incredibly complex and routine thing to wrap your head around. The odds of something that fragile surviving, because or in spite of all we can do for them, seem insurmountable.

When Britton was born, it was the first time in a long time I thought about someone other than myself. That's hard to admit. Things came slowly to me. He's real. Not a doll. Not a prop. He's cold and afraid. He doesn't know us. What if he doesn’t like us. What if he wanted to be born somewhere else. He could be allergic to everything in this room. He could be sick already. He will be held all day every day for the next year at least. Someone is going to drop him. Someone will take him. Someone will lose him. He might not learn to walk. His eyes are sensitive somebody should turn the lights off. Did I wash my hands? I don’t want to hold him. Kindergarten is a training ground for vultures. When he is six not everyone he invited will come to his birthday party. When he is six Melinda Drinnen or someone like her will ask someone else to go down the slide with her. He will spend a quarter on a toy gun instead of a drink like he said he would and feel sorry for the rest of his life. When he is six he will be made fun of and realize it for the first time. He might not understand and be embarrassed to ask. He might want seconds and be embarrassed to ask. He will be cheated out of something that he deserves. He will hate someone and be burdened by the weight of it. He will watch his parents struggle and be confused. He will fall in love and someone will crush him.

When I got to age six, I left the room and started pacing around in the hallway. I made a mental list of all the things he should never hear, things he should never see and never know about. I thought he might need me. He might need me and I'm not the type of person who can help him. I'm not the type of person he would like. He wouldn't ask me.

He's six now. He goes to the very same elementary school I went to. He's an Eastside Golden Eagle. He rides the bus to school sometimes. Don’t even get me started on public school busses (a.k.a. giant yellow vessels of evil.) He has school friends I don’t know. He watches TV shows and knows when something is funny and knows when it isn’t. He likes the Ninja Turtles. Some things never change. He has his own bedroom now. He gets report cards with numbers instead of letters.

When he was born I decided I wanted to be one of the good things in his life and not one of the negative ones. There are plenty of negative ones everywhere. Hopefully he will ask me questions and I will have answers. Hopefully he will feel like I understand what he’s going through, even if I don’t. I feel like I have an advantage over other, older uncles. We’re only 15 years apart. I was a kid when he became a kid. I don't see him very often, even when I am home, but, at the very least, when he thinks about me he knows I’m not a jerk. When he’s old enough to understand why, I’ll thank him for that.

My Nephew Could Beat Up Your Nephew

Britton and the Padres played their first game yesterday. Apparently it's called "coach pitch," which demands an increase in both respect and seriousness above it's not-cool-anymore counterpart, "T-ball." So the fact that Britton is playing some sort of baseball is stinking awesome and it makes me sick that I'm not there to see it. Britton played shortstop, which, as everybody knows, is the coolest position to play, it's where the action is and shortstops usually end up marrying supermodels or soccer stars.



Why is he using a right-handed glove though? Isn't he left-handed?
Read more about the game or see pictures.

Three Days.

Friday night was a nightmare. End of story. I think I have 5 readers, 2 of you have heard about the nightmare that was the Surf WorldCup firsthand and I don't have the energy to go through it again. If your name is Terra or Amber, you should ask Jamie or Mom to tell you all about it. It involves a lot of wind, cold, idiots, VW vans and a train ride back to Graz. I've posted pictures. Things weren't so bad during the day and the VW vans were interesting. Even the name of the event turned out to be completely misleading. “Surf WorldCup” brings to mind THE championship, the end-all of world surfing for either the end of the 2004 or 2005 surfing “season.” In reality, "surfing" in this case means "windsurfing, "World" means "Europe," and "Cup" simply means "meaningless tournament.” Thanks again Austria. This makes occasion number 7,413 in which the truth has been cleverly kept hidden.

Saturday I took the train back. Not too bad, I like travelling by train. I saw a cute red-haired family speaking German with an Irish accent and shared a train compartment with an otherwise normal seeming man wearing black leather pants. Since it was Saturday after 5, the grocery stores were closed. Businesses in or near the train station are allowed to stay open later and even on Sundays! so I went to the Spar and picked up some necessities, including: Kit-Kat bars, milk, blueberry dessert roulade, a 25ml Coke, tomato paste, bread and pasta kits. I decided I couldn't wait to get home to have any of those things so I went to the McDonalds in the train station and rewarded myself with a Hamburger Royal Menü with fries and a strawberry shake. When I am in America, I almost never eat McDonalds. Here, I eat McDonalds with pride, knowing my money and the Austrian money is going to a giant, globalopolizing American company that specializes in hamburgers, french fries and milkshakes. You could say I'm bitter. You'd be right, if you said so. After that I went to the apartment, showered, ate some blueberry roulade and milk and watched Armin Assinger and “Die Millionen Show.” I was asleep by nine.

Sunday was a pretty good day. I slept late, woke up and had breakfast and watched a baseball game. That's right, a baseball game. Graz has a baseball team, the Graz Dirty Sox. Ha. Ha. At least they have a sense of humor because it sure is funny to watch them play. I wasn’t planning on going to the game, I wasn’t sure there was a game yesterday, but I hopped on the bus and got lucky. Christian, the coach of the baseball course at the university, is the catcher/pitcher/assistant coach of the Dirty Sox. He has pretty much single-handedly spread the word about baseball in Styria over the last ten years or so. The field they practice and have games at is impressive for where it is and for the little amount of interest it draws. I've been meaning to take pictures, and yesterday would have been a good day for it, but like I said, I wasn't planning on going to the game so I didn't bring my camera. There is a set of bleachers, about 30 seats in all, maybe less, two dugouts made of old barnwood, a rusty scoreboard and a concession stand/storage room built out of half of an old train car. During the game, I worked the ancient scoreboard, which, believe it or not, with all the rusty metal and walks, was a lot of work. The concession stand, which serves beer and hot dogs, is run by Christian's girlfriend Romana, the cheerleader/nurse/sympathizer for whom the team is very thankful. That is exactly the type of multi-tasking that has made baseball in Austria possible. As far as I know, Christian doesn't have a "real" job. He coaches the university baseball course, travels around to elementary schools and teaches baseball to kids, works the website and tries to find equipment and sponsors to keep everything running. Romana is a real live nurse here in Graz. They have been together seven years and she didn't see a baseball game until the second year they were together, only then after being encouraged by one of the wives of the other players. Having talked to her only for an hour or so, it's hard to tell whether she has a genuine interest in all of what goes on or if she does what she does because she knows it's important to Christian. Something gave me the impression that she wished it were someone else's responsibility to keep the whole thing going or maybe she feels like it isn't worth the trouble sometimes. They are both admirable people and their relationship is impressive. I’ve been lucky to have met people like them and like the Jarvis family who teach me things when I'm not expecting to learn and who prove that it is possible to carve out a place in the world when it's nearly been carved away by everything else.

Last week Christian ordered some new gear, some new gloves and bats. It’s hard to find quality baseball equipment in Europe, and most of what they find is expensive. I told him I would pay for one of the gloves, use it while I am here, and then give it to them when I return home. The coach of the Dirty Sox, Jeremy, said it is hard to get all of the players to come to practice, so they usually end of practicing with only 5 or 6 players. I told Jeremy that I would come to the practices if he thought it would help and he said that would be great. Starting tomorrow I'm going to go to practice and help out with whatever I can and I'll probably help get the field and concession stand ready before the game. Since this is pretty much the only cool thing going on in Austria, I’m going to help out however I can. The main thing is, Romana and Christian are really great people and it’s too bad they have to do so much on their own. Their dog Bruno is really cute too. If you want to help out, fill out this form and send it to Christian.

Red Stripe

The weather has just warmed up here and the park is full of badminton and frisbee playing students from morning to night. It's a pleasant sight but it makes me miss my friends. I went hiking yesterday and that was nice. I'll post pictures soon. As I was writing about my favorite song, I was thinking about how much I'd like to be at home, outside with my friends. I think one of my top five all time favorite days is the day last spring when we went to Katie's talent show and then spent the day at Deborah's lake house drinking in canoes on the lake. That was a really good day. When I get home I'm going to offer Deborah, Katie and Matt an afternoon of Red Stripes, on me.

The beautiful sound of a heart breaking.

For those of you that have been asking since the sixth grade (Terra) I've finally decided what my favorite song of all time is. It's "Fake Plastic Trees" by Radiohead. So there you go. As for the other four favorites, I'll keep thinking and let you know.

All for spinning you around.

Spending a long period of time abroad can really mess with your head. It's like having multiple personalities. I live in Arkansas and I speak English. I live in Austria and I speak German. Which one of these lives is the real one? More on that when I figure out how to explain what I mean.

Eye Candy.

It's not very often I see something and think, "I have to have that. It must be mine." It's been a while since I felt that way, probably since my camping gear craze of 2002. But then, I saw this. I'm sure you feel the same way about it as I do.

"Two for good, one for bad..."

Good:
Earlier today I went for a walk downtown and found and Edith Piaf CD and the "Lost in Translation" soundtrack. I've finished all of my laundry and vacuumed my room. I'm about to upload some pictures under the "Graz" set. Today is taco day.

Bad:
My rain jacket got smoky Wednesday night so I washed it. For some reason, this time I pulled it out of the washing machine and most of the seam-proofing has come off. If it keeps raining like it has lately I'm going to have to get a new rainjacket. I like that one though so it may just be demoted to windjacket duties.

White Smoke.

Hi, so I just found out there is a new pope. Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger of Germany is the 265th Pope. That's an old hat to fill.

Finn-icky. Icky Finn.

So I'm in the computer lab and I hear someone start talking out loud. That's not so unusal, people answer their phones in here all the time. After a minute or so, I start thinking about that voice, and it sounds like an Asian language, maybe Chinese or Vietnamese, or whatever, it doesn't matter. Then I look over and see who it is. It is a 6'6" Finnish girl. 1) That language is just crazy. How can those sounds mean anything? 2) If I am a 6'6" snow white Finnish girl, do I dress in black studded denim and leather and dye my hair red and black stripes? No, no I do not.

Oh, Root Beer.

On the way to the computer lab today, I passed a girl that smelled like root beer. It made me really sad. For the last two and a half months, I haven't thought about root beer at all. You might say that I forgot it even existed. But now I want some really bad. Oh, root beer.

Where in the world....

...is Terra?

Last thought but certainly not least thought.

I love Jamie very, very much.

A Turn For the Absurd.

Here are some nuggets from "Let's Drink Too Much and Try Our English Out On Our Roommate Night."

Dominic: All of the girls on the sport university are saying I am a bitch because I am sleeping with them. I don't know what they are talking about. It's Mark. I have been sleeping with like three girls (holds up eight fingers) in my whole life.

Mark: I have no more girlfriend, now I have more free time.

Dominic: The best part that we are changing the lightbulbs is that we are doing it while we are drunk and it is working.

Blond Guy One and Blond Guy Two, in unison: Tussssscalooooooooooooosa.

Jaron: Is this a Region 2 DVD?
Dominic: No, it's the same movie as in the US, "As Good As It Gets."
Jaron: Yes, but our DVD players are different, can I play it on a DVD player from the US?
Dominic: Yes, it's the one with Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt.

Mark: You should come to Austria, we are having fun in Austria.

Dominic: You are scaring me, you go to your room, you are scaring me. You are playing the game since like five minutes and you are getting all the frogs into the bucket.

Blond Guy Three: Why do you study German?

Four things I think today.

I think Michael Jackson is going to jail for a really long time. On the one hand, I think his life has been a tragedy, and not all of it is his fault. On the other hand, he makes his decisions, good and bad, and he seems to have made a lot of very bad ones.

I think Schilling gives six strong innings, gives up three runs, and strikes out seven. We'll see. At this point, I really don't care who wins, Skanks or Sox, there is still 95% of the season to be played out and April doesn't mean much except for working out the kinks. You could say that Spring Training is for working out the kinks, and you'd be right, but Boston's starting rotation is a big kink that is going to take some time. I'm not worried about it, Tito is back.

I think the weather here in Graz is ridiculous. Not as ridiculous as Arkansas, it doesn't change in a matter of minutes, which is one of the strange things Arkansans take pride in, but it is equally unpredictable and doesn't seem to care at all that there are "seasons" it is supposed to abide by.

I think Jeffri Chadiha is about a month late. Everyone else at SI.com has written about Matt Jones' impressive pro workouts and his intriguing draft possibilities, and did so starting more than a month ago. I'm not a huge Matt Jones fan, I like what he did for the program, he was exciting to watch, may or may not be a jerk, I don't know. He's a big reason the program is where it is, where it is going, and part of me simply likes reading about Arkansas in places other than the "You aren't going to believe how big this pumpkin is." type of articles. Anyway, I've enjoyed reading Peter King's theories about where Jones will go and what he'll do for the team that takes a chance on him, but I can't help but think Chadiha is reaching.

Two things I think today.

I think Derek Lowe got a raw deal. He was magical in the post-season and the Boston brass never even called him in the off-season. Raw. He's a sinkerballer, and as far as I know, sinkerballers are pretty durable. They apparently punched the numbers and found something that told them he wasn't worth it anymore. Too bad.

I think I miss Harold Reynolds.

Something to think about.

Mike has this link on his blog and it's really interesting so I stole it. Check it out and see how much the war really costs.

Cost of the War

Mmm...Cornetto. You don't even know.

Today was pretty good. My Lit class on Thursday stinks, but that's the way it goes. After class I had some Döner. Mmm...Döner. Durum. Mmm. Then I went to baseball practice, we played outside and it was really nice. I didn't hit the ball as well as I would have liked to, but I was only thrown out once, and I scored three runs. Next week I'm go to make sure the batting order is better. Philip, an Austrian guy on the baseball team, asked if I was interested in playing flag football after baseball. Curiosity got the best of me and I said yes. It was half funny and half sad. One guy was wearing these weird knee pads (it was flag football) and another guy had taped his fingers. And his knees. With tape. It was ridiculous.

I'm pretty tired. Tomorrow I'm going to get some homework done. Or at least get it ready to be done this weekend. Right now I'm going back to the apartment for a wheat beer, a Cornetto, and some sleep.

More than a feeling.

The Red Sox came back and beat the Yankees last night, scoring five runs off of the most feared closer in recent history. Everybody got to him. Bellhorn got to him. Billy Mueller got to him, again. Renteria woke up and gave him some. Edgah. It's a good feeling. I don't put any weight in Spring Training, and I put very little weight in the first three games of the regular season, 3 out of 162, but it's nice.

In other news Jamie has infected me with joy beyond measure. True, I am still in Austria, for three more months, but Jamie threw a parade for me yesterday the likes of which could never be rained on.

"Throw on a suit, get it tapered up." Jay-Z

Eureka!

So a few minutes ago I found out from Jamie that she was not accepted for the Fulbright teaching position in Austria. We are both so relieved, that answers a dozen or so questions right away. Much praise and rejoicing is to be expected.

Photos.

My flickr.com Pro Account went into action today. Enjoy.

Astute Observations.

Europeans love cigarettes.
Europeans have no peripheral vision whatsoever.
Europeans love the Pope.
Europeans love the pipe.
Europeans love bicycling.

Blogger's note: In this and every installment of "Astute Observations," every effort will be made to over-generalize and defame. Don't bother complaining about it or even pointing it out.

Standards of behavior.

So I am going to make you a promise. Most or all of the people that read this page are people I know and care about. Because I know you well enough to care about you, our lives are intertwined at some level or another. Maybe you are my mother. Or my mother's husband. Or Die Liebe meines Lebens. Or a very dear friend. Because I know you well enough to care about you, and because our lives are intertwined at some level or another, I think about you. I have thoughts and feelings and opinions about you and our relationship, whatever it may be.

You are important to me. That's what I am saying.

Honesty is also very important to me. This medium, as strange as it sounds, is important to me too. Sometimes the things I say are funny. Sometimes they are sad. Sometimes they are informative. They are probably very often boring. At the very least, the things I say are honest. If I have said them, you should know that I mean them.

Here’s my promise to you and to myself. I will not let the fact that you are going to read this change what I want to say or how I am going to say it. I promise not to write something with any motive other than to say it. I will not say something simply because I know you are going to read it. And I will not avoid saying something simply because I know you are going to read it. I promise not to change the way I write something in order to have any sort of affect on the way you will receive it. I will not speak for flattery or for harm or for influence.

I think that has been a goal of mine since I started writing here. I think so. I hope so. I just wanted to make sure you knew about it. Get it out in the open. This is still very new to me, you know. Maybe now that I know that you know, and you know that I know that you know, it will be easier to keep it that way. You know?

Manifest Destiny.

For those of you I spoke with on the phone yesterday this may come as a shock, but I need to get some things out in the open. My readers number somewhere between three and four, and I spoke with two of you on the phone yesterday. Despite all of that ranting and raving, I still need to release some. I need to type. When I was younger, in junior high, I always needed to write. I NEEDED to see a blank page in front of me, NEEDED to feel a pen against paper, NEEDED to feel the squeak and run of a ball point, NEEDED to see the ink bleed. It didn't matter what came out onto the page, what it meant, if it was legible, if it was English, I just needed it to get out of me. As long as I could take the mess that I was thinking and make a clean, crisp piece of loose-leaf paper messy with it, I usually felt better. There something to be said about taking something messy and making it clean again. One of the greatest feelings ever. Life's little pleasures, you know? The same can be said about taking something clean and making it dirty. Maybe it's changing something completely that is so enjoyable. Whatever it is, I am feeling the urge. I'm in Austria, I'm pissed off, and I'm going to fill some pages.

We’ll start with yesterday. But by starting with yesterday, we’ll have to go back to last fall. Well, further back maybe.

I study German. People always ask me, “Why German?” My response is always the same. At my high school it was and still is required that every student take two years of a foreign language. Great requirement, in my opinion, I think it should start earlier, maybe fourth or fifth grade. My high school offered Spanish, French and German. Spanish? Sure, I could have picked it up and in my part of the world, I may have used a lot of it. But in high school, you want to be different, you want to do things nobody else does. That's an unspoken requirement. Everybody takes Spanish, everybody's parents sit them down and tell them how invaluable Spanish would be when combined with a business degree, etc. And I think it's boring. I mean, it sounds lovely, of course, but would I want to speak it? No. French? Absolutely not. I'm not one of those people. Not one of those people who takes French, speaks French, talks about France, has any desire at all to see France. It's not for me. Besides, it's hard. What letters am I supposed to pronounce? Where are the rules? So, German. It fit all of my requirements. It's the mother of English. Well, one of its mothers. It's really similar. It's logical. It has plenty of rules. “Make sure you stay between the lines!” sort of rules, but rules that are always there, rules that follow a certain pattern, help you create a sentence, those sort of rules. There are no silent letters. Unless you are using a French word that German has borrowed, then there are silent letters.

At my university it is required that all Arts and Sciences students take two years of a foreign language. Good requirement I think, a different sort of brain exercise. I'd already taken five years of German in high school (I started in eighth grade). My high school German teacher made quite an impression on me. She was and is exactly the type of teacher you hope you'll get when you go to high school. She has had a lot to do with the type of person I am now (which is a good thing, right?), I respect her very much, we're good friends now, and in a lot of ways I have wanted to be just like her. In any case, suffice it to say I have learned a lot about a lot of things from her. So I decided to stick with German for my language requirement in college. This is the only part of the story I will try to shorten. I skipped the first three semesters, took the fourth semester, thereby fulfilling my requirement, but I had a crappy teacher and decided not to continue. I changed my major from Psychology to History, talked things over with the aforementioned high school German teacher and the faculty at my university and got back into the German department. So, that makes two majors, German and History.

In an effort to finish my undergraduate studies sooner, I applied for an exchange program to study at Karl-Franzens University in Graz, Austria. The plan was to take a handful of history classes, taught in the German language, which would count twice! Both as a German course for the German requirements and as a history course for my history requirements. Sounds great, right? Most fantasies do. Ok, this part I will shorten too. Classes here in Austria are worth two credits, at my home university, they are worth three. In order for my credits to transfer home, I needed to find to similar classes, to combine to cover the three hours. If you did the math, you realized that extra, fourth hour, would be lost, wasted, useless. You're right. AND those classes would have to be similar to something at my home university. This proved impossible. My hopes of finishing school this semester, also impossible. So I am here, studying German literature. But wait! I'm not studying just German Literature. I'm not reading Gunter Grass. No. I'm studying Medieval German Literature. Why? Those are the literature classes offered in the spring. Medieval. German. I can't read Medieval English Literature. Can you? My guess is no. So. We'll see if I pass these literature classes. If I do, and if they transfer, I should be finished with German. Then I will take care of the rest of the history courses next fall. Then I will be finished. Hopefully.

Where is this going? It has to do with me going home. Eventually, sooner rather than later, I want to go home. The study abroad office at my home university suggested June 3 as a good date to fly home. I bought a ticket with a return date of June 3. As it turns out, the semester here in Austria is over at the end of June. Head spinning? Yes. At this point, I was pretty disappointed in our study abroad office. Then I came here and met their Austrian counterparts, the most worthless bunch of people I have ever met. And they are only available to us two hours a day, between ten and noon. When are my Medieval Literature classes? Between ten and noon. And listen, I could spend the next three months telling you all about how worthless they are, how they have screwed me up every chance I have given them, how they have repeatedly given me information that was flat-out wrong and nearly jeopardized my entire semester. I could spend a long time telling you all about it. In fact, I probably will. Let's assume I actually stick this out or don't get arrested for murder or don't throw myself into the icy Mur. That gives me three months here. With regular internet access and no sleep, I might just be able to keep up with their never-ending bad advice and general worthlessness and be able to give you the play by play. Maybe. Right now, the point is, I want to go home. Eventually.

So I had the wrong return date. Not the end of the world. I came to Austria to talk with the foreign exchange office and find out when exactly would be a good time to go home. I don’t think I need to tell you how productive that conversation was. I thought I would come here, talk to some people in the know, and then find out when I should plan to fly home. The thing is, I have to go around to all of my professors personally and pick up my grades, which they will have filled out onto a particular form, and take all of these forms to the dreaded study abroad office and get them to compile them into a transcript which I can take home to my university.

Brief intermission. One of the things that made yesterday so incredibly infuriating is that it totally and unapologetically wiped away the post-trip-with-Jamie-glow I still had. Yes, I was a wreck when I had to watch her go, and I still am. It was a wonderful trip though and it left me feeling really positive about her, and us and my future and our future. I had something to feel good about. I would still feel really good if it weren’t for yet another impossibly aggravating, huge, lurking….thing. Now it is all I can think about. And I went to buy a cinnamon roll this morning and the woman behind the counter was really rude. All I want is to be able to think about Jamie, feel like the days are passing quickly, and eat cinnamon rolls. But if Austria keeps kicking me in the face then I can't enjoy anything.

It’s not like I can’t hack it either. I mean, I lived in Switzerland last summer, spoke their crazy German, and worked with crazy people in a grocery store. I lived with two weird parents, their weird little children, their three weird dogs, and the mother smoked constantly. That was bad too but it wasn’t nearly as frustrating. It certainly wasn’t like being kicked in the face all day. I keep thinking I am going to come back to the U.S. this 95 pound, bitter, second-hand smoke addicted, angry, bike-riding jerk. Then Jamie will leave me. Landon will think I am tense. My sister will be not yet married but still pregnant. My nephew will be completely and irreversibly corrupted by riding the bus to school. He'll be smoking. You know what I’m saying. “We’re dealing with a lot of shit here.”

So. Transcript. In the narrow window between the end of finals, whenever that is, and my preferred date of return, July 3, my tests have to be graded, final grade calculated, Zeugnisse collected, turned in, translated, compiled and made available to me. I'd like to fly home on July 3. I called the airline to change my flight. It turns out it is impossible. For an impressive number of reasons, I can't exchange my ticket for a month later. There are lots and lots of criteria my new return flight would have to meet in order for it to be exchangeable. Those criteria are apparently hard to meet. So I called the company I bought the ticket from and they told me the same thing, more apologetically, in English. My options are: cancel the return portion of my ticket and buy a new one-way ticket. Which would require me to sell a kidney or a testicle. Or lots and lots of plasma. Or I could twiddle my thumbs for the next two or three weeks and hope that somebody who already has a ticket decides they'd rather stay home. Maybe I should find their sister and arrange for her to get pregnant, thereby necessitating a quick marriage, for which they would need to be present, for which they would need to cancel their flights. It's so crazy it just might work. The worst part of it, or one of the parts of it that are tied for "The Worst Part of It," was the music I had to listen to while I was on hold. And you have to listen to it. How else would you know they were back on the line, ready and waiting to solve your problem? If, of course, they could solve your problem. It was the Lufthansa theme song. "A Better Way to Fly." “The horror. The horror.” "I shiver. I quake."

So I did what I hope any 22-year old man would do. I called Mommy. I soon realized I hadn’t told her about any of my struggles. She was the victim of a deluge of sad, sad, frustrating experiences. She took it well, obviously surprised and concerned, but well. It's probably a good thing I didn't tell her that I am also sick. She said she was going to call the airline and the travel agent and shake things up. I hope she's successful. I'd like to come home eventually and I'd like it to not cost a fortune. Or a part of my body.

So that was yesterday.

There, that's better.

Hi. Sorry for the three week hiatus. I tried to post before my trip with Jamie, but it just wasn't happening. Things seem to be back to as close to normal as they are going to be.

The trip was lovely. For the entire two months building up to the trip, I was certain something would go wrong and I wouldn't see her. I took a night train to Frankfurt and arrived at 4:45am, leaving me with 5 hours to pace around and flip through magazines I had no intention of buying. I flipped through many, many magazines. When I saw her plane on the arrivals board, I was still certain I would not see her. To make matters worse, her plane arrived at the same time as four others, so I watched what seemed like 2,000 people come through the gates before her. But there she was. Papaya jacket and all. What a relief. We could have stayed in the airport for the next ten days and I wouldn't have cared. We left the airport of course and had a wonderful time together. Wine, castles, chocolate, movies, shopping, museums, carriage rides. Pictures coming soon.

"Testing, testing, one, two..."

Hey. Does this thing still work? I tried updating before JJF10DCE but it didn't work. We'll see. And if we do see, then we'll see more.

Bassackwards.

So I'm in the library at beautiful Karl-Franzens University. I'm waiting for a book. Why don't I just go get it myself? Oh how I wish that were possible. See, that's not the way things work here. If things were speedy and convenient, you would have more time to the things you wanted to do. And that's not what they want. That's not what keeps people with absolutely no skills employed. See, if I want a book, I have to request it. I can't just have it. Request. I have to go to the library, get a key for a locker, put my things in a locker, go to the computer stations, go back to my locker and get the piece of paper where I wrote down the name of the book I need, put my things back in the locker, go back to the computer stations, search for the book seven times, find the book, find the copy of the book that is in THIS library, enter my student ID number, enter my birthdate, pee in a cup, swear on a Bible, and wait an hour for some hunchback in the basement to find the book I need and bring it up to the front desk. Where I finally get it. For anywhere from seven days to 5 months. Depending on what type of book it is. Who knows what type of book it is? Where does it say? When is it due? I don't know. It doesn't. I don't know.

So I read CNN.com to find out what is going on at home. Which is to say I have no idea what is going on at home. Mostly I read CNN.com for a laugh. Like this for example:
"Scientists seek source of Mount St. Helens blast."
This just in: Mount St. Helens is a volcano. For more information, see 1980.

Stop, drop and roll...

Earlier today I got an e-mail from my grandmother in which she burned my sister. That lady is awesome. If your grandmother burns you, and this was a wicked burn, you've got to stop and take a look around. If you even think maybe there might be a slight possibility that your very own grandmother might find something to burn you about, you owe yourself some time to think things over.

Austria: consider yourself summarily defeated.

Austria's dastardly plans to keep my ears dirty, my room dark and salsa out of my mouth have all been thwarted. And all in a day. Q-Tips? Found them. In the baby section, to the right of the formula, below the wipes, bottom shelf, behind the display. Lightbulbs? Found them. By the shoestrings and nail files. Salsa? Made it, thanks to the valiant efforts of Mike and Jamie. And it was good. So there it is. Living life like it ought to be lived. I can think of a few things worse than living a life in which you never tasted salsa. A few, but not many. If you throw out being born blind or not being born at all, that brings the number to less than ten. Let me tell you this one time, Mike's salsa is delicious. I have often joked that I like salsa so much I could eat it with a spoon. I did, in fact, eat a great deal of this salsa with a spoon. Next time I make it, which will be soon, I am going to add extra jalapenos to keep my roommates and their wussy European tastebuds away from it. Chance of me making salsa again tomorrow are better than the chance it will snow again tomorrow. Chance of snow tomorrow? 90%. While we are on the subject of great culinary achievement...if Mexican restaurants were beverage containers, Taco Bell would be a Dixie cup with a hole in the bottom and La Huerta would be the Holy (insert expletive here) Grail.

language course friends at the last supper

language course friends at the last supper
Originally uploaded by jmporter.

So I set up an account at Flickr. I can post a picture and write an entry on my blog at the same time. Incredible. What a truly magical time we are living in.

Road construction, next 11 miles...

Through the Austrian grapevine I have learned that I will soon have internets, as many and as often as I want, in the apartment. When this rumor bears fruit, I hope to blog every day or so. My blog will be modeled after "Peter King's MMQB" at SI.com, the only difference will be that I won't be talking about football or coffee. The football season is over and I don't drink coffee except for when I need some change to call the lady. Then I don't drink it so much as ignore what my body is telling me and conspire with my arm against the rest of my body and pour it down instead of just paying for it and leaving with my change. I hope to provide all sorts of entertaining and educational anecdotes about a wide variety of things. I have been storing them up throughout this internet drought. I watched the Oscars last night and they played a clip from "Sideways." In the clip, the woman, Virginia Madsen, is talking about why she loves wine so much, and she mentioned that wine is actually a living thing. I never thought of it that way before, but it's true, and I guess that is why so many people take such pride and care in it. Sort of makes me appreciate it more. On top of the increase in blogging, I hope to create a page at Flickr.com to show my pictures and you can access them whenever you want. I am an amature, I have weird tastes in photography, and I am not looking for compliments. Terra is much better than me at this and most things, so if you want to have an intellectual conversation with her about photography, you know where to find her. For my part, I will be pushing the button on top of the camera and you will be looking at the result. I like pictures that are blurry and have a sort of orange glow when there isn't enough natural light. I also take lots of pictures of bright blue things, like neon lights outside clubs. So, I hope you are looking forward to that. When I have more time, I will add links to Terra and Shook and things I think are interesting. Best wishes from across the seas.
Jaron
P.S.- My tone isn't meant to be condescending or disinterested. For some reason, this is how I write, and is completely different from my tone when I speak. I think it is funny, and if you know me in the real world, I think the contrast between physical me and electronic me is probably what makes it funny. If you think I am a jerk in real life, then this is no different for you and I am sorry. Also, expect my English to get worse and worse as my time across the seas increases.

Blink and you might miss it...

"Bull Durham" is one of my favorite movies of all time. Here are some great lines. They may not appeal to everyone, but I think they are great.

Coach: Excuse me... what the hell's goin' on out here?
Crash: Well, Nukes scared, 'cause his eyelids are jammed and his old man's here. We need a live... is it a live rooster?.... we need a live rooster to take the curse off Jose's glove, and nobody seems to know what to get Millie or Jimmy for their wedding present. That about right? We're dealing with a lot of shit.
Coach: Well, ah... candlesticks always make a nice gift...and maybe you could find out where she's registered... maybe a place setting, or a silverwear patten. OK? Let's get two.

Crash: Relax, alright? Don't try to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring, and besides that they're fascist. Throw some ground balls. They're more democratic.

Coach: You guys... you lollygag the ball around the infield. You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. Do you know what that makes you? Larry?
Larry: Lollgaggers!
Coach: Lollygaggers.

Crash: Well I believe in the soul... the small of a woman's back... the hangin' curveball... high fiber... good scotch... that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent overrated crap... I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a Constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve, and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. Goodnight.

Other quotes about baseball:

If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there are men on base. ~Dave Barry

I'm convinced that every boy, in his heart, would rather steal second base than an automobile. ~Tom Clark

No game in the world is as tidy and dramatically neat as baseball, with cause and effect, crime and punishment, motive and result, so cleanly defined. ~Paul Gallico

Back then, my idol was Bugs Bunny, because I saw a cartoon of him playing ball - you know, the one where he plays every position himself with nobody else on the field but him? Now that I think of it, Bugs is still my idol. You have to love a ballplayer like that. ~Nomar Garciaparra

With those who don't give a damn about baseball, I can only sympathize. I do not resent them. I am even willing to concede that many of them are physically clean, good to their mothers and in favor of world peace. But while the game is on, I can't think of anything to say to them. ~Art Hill

Say this much for big league baseball - it is beyond question the greatest conversation piece ever invented in America. ~Bruce Catton

Baseball is an allegorical play about America, a poetic, complex, and subtle play of courage, fear, good luck, mistakes, patience about fate, and sober self-esteem. ~Saul Steinberg

I have discovered in twenty years of moving around a ball park, that the knowledge of the game is usually in inverse proportion to the price of the seats. ~Bill Veeck

They are supposed to be dispassionate dispensers of Pure Justice, icy islands of emotionless calculation. In short, umpires should be acute Republicans. ~George F. Will, 1990

I believe in the Church of Baseball. I tried all the major religions and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I learned that, I gave Jesus a chance. ~Ron Shelton, Bull Durham, 1988

Rooting for the Yankees is like rooting for the house in blackjack. ~Adam Morrow, quoted in Bill Simmons, "Letters from the Nation," 20 October 2003

For more, check out: http://www.quotegarden.com/baseball.html

The Living Is Easy...Across the Seas. Part Zwei.

Jams, thanks for making me feel not so far away. 31 days and counting.

The Living Is Easy...Across the Seas.

Fans,
First of all, I'd like to thank you for the outpouring of support for me and my endeavors across the seas. Second, I need to apologize for the complete lack of blogging over the last month. I am truly sorry. The internets are elusive across the seas. They are hard to find, those internets. When I find one, I usually don't have time to say something profound, and, as you all know, if it isn't profound, I don't bother saying it. Steve, I'd appreciate your criticism of the punctuation in that last sentence. Bryan, proofread. For reals. Terra, respect knuckles for the consistent and entertaining blogging. It gives me something new to read nearly every day, and that is worth it's weight in gold here across the seas. How are things? They are all cold. In what language are they being discussed? Name one. Finnish, Swedish, Italian, French, Türkish, German, Austrian German, Swiss German. Check. Apartment life? Solitary and, therefore, ideal. Food? Not very often. Walking? All the time. Spiritual growth? Growing. Trash? Four different kinds, picked up every day. Thank you for your interest. You are all just Disco. More to come, if the internets are willing.

Oh, the places you will go...

So in less than two weeks, I'll be in Austria. It's hard to say how I feel about that. If all goes as planned, it should be my final semester as an undergraduate. Which is scary. I'll be there for 5 months. Which is scary. I'm sure it's a lovely country with big green hills, big grey mountains and plenty of cows and beer. Which I'll admit does sound pretty great. It's just that right now, I think it would be better to be here. In some ways. But when I made these plans I didn't know that there would be a time where going to Austria might qualify as inconvenient. Which is a pretty fair description of the here and now. But there are things that make me think being alone in a foreign country for half of 2005 will be time well spent. Time spent on me and who I want to be. Get some work done. Once I get over the hills and mountains and cows and beer, I should be pretty free from distraction and be able to do some serious thinking. And if you know me at all, you know I like to think.

Big thanks to Landon for tuning up my computer. Big thanks to Terra for being lovely. Big thanks to Matt for being hilarious. Big thanks to Jamie.