Farewell, Jerry.
August was pretty hot in Richmond.
8/1/95 - What's up with specificity? I believe I can answer my own question, but first some background. The volume of knowledge is increasing at a phenomenal rate. Prior to the 20th century (this is according to Stephen Hawking) one man could hope to grasp the sum total of the world's knowledge. But now this is an impossibility. Here is the answer to my initial question: Specificity is on the rise because the only other choices are ignorance or a wide shallow understanding. I guess I can sum it up with this general statement: Ignornace leads to cooking french fries; A wide shallow understanding leads to a liberal arts degree; And specificity leads to puzzle piece people that hope their spot is not already taken. Perhaps I'm wrong.
8/2/95 - Sometimes it may be better not to think. Perhaps now is one of those times. The mental gears just don't seem to be catching properly today. I haven't had coffee yet though, that usually seems to help. Yesterday I had what was, I think, a completely unremarkable day. When I wrote in my real journal I only filled half a page. But thinking back it strikes me that nothing is unremarkable. The very fact that I wrote half a page of remarks proves this. I thought about some relatively important stuff yesterday. In general everyday I think about important things. I met a great female last week; I thought about her yesterday. I read that a college classmate of mine died; I didn't know him well (I went to a small school where everyone knew everyone else even if you didn't want to) but I still thought about the proximity of death. I thought about a friend who wants a GED and asked me to teach him algebra. I could probably remark for several minutes on my unremarkable day which I guess was not so much unremarkable as it was not very different from most of my other days. I should be happy that my days are so consistantly remarkable and get over the nonvariance. What do you know, I think I'm thinking now!
8/3/95 - Here I am once again about to write about my mind, or at least those small things called thoughts that my mind belches forth almost constantly. This morning I, and my fellow Richmonders (and probably a large chunk of the American population), are about to face yet another day yanked from what I can only imagine is a weather person's dream come true. What could be better than 24 straight days without having to rewrite a forecast? 'Hazy, Hot, and Humid with Highs in the mid 90s'. That's it. Every day or so they could get spicy and add 'with a chance of afternoon thunderstorms'. I just read what I've written; not only am I whiney, but I probably have the whole thing wrong. Weather people know as well as I do that this streak will break one day. I suppose the question is 'When?'. And will they wait until it breaks and then change the forecast, or will they try and call the break? I hope for the latter. Although actually, who cares? Is it really important?
8/4/95 - As it turns out I'm 10 minutes later to work this morning than I usually am. Today is 'Casual Day', a yearly occurrence wherein I, as an employee at the university, get to wear whatever I want at work (I chose T-shirt, shorts and Chuck Taylors). Today fell exactly after yesterday, which is a good thing, because yesterday turned into today while I was out last night having too much fun. Luckily, when my alarm said 'get up' and I didn't budge for 20 minutes, the only things required of me were the skills to pull grunge weekend wear onto my pathetic, itchy eyed frame (that's my body this morning for those of you that can't follow me). So here I sit too dazed to realize that maybe a cup of coffee would help coagulate my confusion into the messy mass of a being that is normally me. And on that note I leave you; Hasta...
8/7/95 - Good Morning and welcome to Monday; Monday, that wonderful day that marks the begining of yet another 5 day chance to distinguish yourself at work (unless you are among the unfortunate few on vacation). During the weekend just past I did many a musical thing. Saturday I saw TR3, a rock/fusion 4 man talent engine; these guys move. The music has more twists, turns and folds than oragami (as if I can spell that word); too good to dance. My band practiced at 80% (minus 1 guy) on sunday; we worked on a new song written by Scott Flory and just jammed. Overall, I'd say it was a worthwhile use of my time. Sunday night I danced to the groovy jams of the Edwin McCain Band... This is dancing music at its finest: Jammy but not weird. The bass player was one of the best I've ever seen. Go see them if you get a chance. Next weekend it's off to Chapel Hill, NC to see Doxy's Kitchen, a guitar driven dancy band with a kick butt singer and cool songs.
8/8/95 - It's tuesday; do you know where your life is headed? I don't. I'm not entirely certain what the significance of this is, but as I left my house I stumbled into the TV room to find my roommate's unemployed friend Henry passed out cold on the couch and VH1 blaring something about Elton John traveling with hordes of folks. I suppose the most I can read into this is two people can be moving with different velocities and still reach the same destination at roughly the same time; since this isn't classical physics I can make statements like that. Well, we got some Tom Petty on the radio here in my office. My office mate isn't in yet, so I can play the radio guilt free. Speaking of guilt free, I ate a disgustingly great Mexican meal at my favorite disgusting Mexican place last night, but I'd run 3 miles and played an hour of tennis before hand (it's funny how I can apply units of time to tennis). Now we have the Foo Fighters, so remember: Finger Nails are good (and guilt free).
8/9/95 - Greetings, I am another voice screaming in your ear... Well, speaking softly at least. Thanks for taking the time to read these words I have written which, I know, mean little. The reason I know they carry little weight (unlock no great truths) is because it's too early in the morning for that type of stuff. I'm too tired to eat; I have two fat free SnackWell's blueberry cereal bars that I can't talk myself into opening because it would expend too much energy (I may need that energy to breath!). Well, actually, all of this is a lie. Nothing is without some meaning. This paragraph is an electronic manifestation of my desire to better myself by turning abstract thoughts into words. True, the words are sometimes barely comprehensible (and poorly spelled) but they are there for me. That, dear reader, is the meaning of this. And I am off to work.
8/10/95 - 1942-1995: "He's Gone; Nothing's Gonna Bring Him Back."
Farewell, Jerry.
8/11/95 - Okay, I'm off to fill up space. I can't think of an important thing to say. The radio is not helping; commercials are uninspiring. I've spent too much of the last two days grinding away at work, so even if an inspirational event had taken place I would have completely missed the significance. This afternoon I get to ride roller coasters, that should be fun. The feeling of uncovered acceleration can't be beat; maybe I should try sky diving (Nah, I'm too whimpy for that). My favorite ride is gone from the park though, I really liked Parrot Troopers, little sailboats on chains that spun around a pole and looped out over a rank lake. This desperate attempt at an idea is pretty much symbolic of my current state of mind; If you read this and can shock a good thought into my system, please try. Thanks.
8/14/95 - I'm back in the office after a weekend of weekendly type activities. Lee, you say, what are weekendly type activities? Well, they are exciting things like riding screaming rollercoasters at theme parks; they are cool things like hearing funky bands at small jazz bars; they are familiar things like mooching dinner from the parental folks; they are intellectual things like reading essays written by mathematicians about the abuse of numbers in the media (abuse being a harsh way of putting it); and they are all the little things in between (like eating bagels and drinking coffee, shopping for CDs, driving large distances, consuming beverages with the buddies, running, etc). But Lee, can't these things also be done on weekdays? Yeah, but they have to share a day with work.
8/15/95 - Several things are on my mind this morning... It's my Mom's birthday and I have no clue what to get for her. I heard on the radio that my favorite river is very polluted (as if I didn't know). It's going to be scorching HOT today (as if I didn't know). I had the wrong date on yesterday's entry and no one caught me (perhaps no one read since friday, so saturday's date seemed reasonable). My stomach feels slightly upset, I think I'll go get some coffee and push it to the edge to see what will happen. Hey, Alanis Morrisette (or however she spells her name) on the radio; that's one angry woman. I can't tell if she sings well or if she's just so angry no one had the guts to tell her she doesn't.
8/16/95 - I didn't sleep well last night. I'm so used to drinking the swill coffee at work, when I get good coffee I can't stop drinking it. Last night for my Mom's birthday Dad took the family out to Skillagally (sic?), a seafood restaurant in Richmond, where I ended the meal with pots upon pots of good (or at least better than I'm used to) coffee. Ergo I did not sleep well. In different news: My car is littered with yellow round things; a can of tennis balls came open in the back seat and, when the car slows down, roll into the front under the passenger seat (it's actually quite amusing). I also have a larger indoor shot put (that happens to be yellow) on the floor in the back; People ask me questions.
8/17/95 - About what should I write this lovely Thursday morning? I thought about kitchens. Kitchens because that's where everyone goes. I visited two friends last weekend and all three of us ended up talking for a while in a tiny (really, it was very small) apartment kitchen even though there was enough room elsewhere. When I go to visit my parents (which is probably about twice a week because they feed me free food), we end up sitting in the kitchen. Dad says people tend to make big decisions more easily in comfortable places. And what could be more comfortable than a kitchen?
8/18/95 - I know I had picked out a good topic for today. I can't seem to remember what it was. It might have had to do with a book I'm reading. I'm currently reading two books (both about math). It might have had to do with James Clerk Maxwell and his famous equations. Maxwell lived over 100 years ago and studied electromagnetism. This was the same time as the Civil War and he's off in England studying electricity and current and fields and all this stuff that we have greatly improved technology to see (thanks to him) and his equipment is like the stuff my father uses to fix broken cabinets. Amazing and true but not what I'd planned to ruminate on today. It could have been this girl I'd planned to ask out, or even the weird loss of intelligence phenomena that women induce (perhaps Maxwell would like my word choice) in me. But I don't think that's it either. As it turns out I've written enough crap about not being able to remember my topic that now I don't have to.
8/21/95 - Well, it's monday again and I'm slightly late starting this because I was being responsible and doing work stuff first. The most curious part of that sentence was the first part. It's monday again; what is similar between today and August 14th? Not all that much, unless you consider that my life has not moved forward that far. Geez, I'm 25, shouldn't I be going somewhere faster than I am? Well, regardless of my relative speed, it's still Monday which means I've got to make it to friday afternoon for another chance to bed without the strain of an imminent alarm effecting my peaceful sleep. Like last monday, though, the desire for coffee is greater today than I suspect it will be tomorrow. So without anymore delay I'll end this meaningless pondering and start another plodding week wishing for some exciting possibilities (perhaps I can create them).
8/22/95 - Today is Tuesday the 22nd. I'm sitting here wishing it were later in the day and what do you know(!!!), as I write, it becomes later in the day. True, the fact that I'm writing has nothing to do with the progression of time and by 'later' I didn't really expect the argument that now was before the new now and that which I had originally called now becomes the thing called then too quickly to see it. Not that you can see an instant in time. Time is not so muc h a thing by itself as it is a contrivance to describe other things. This is too much to take on an empty stomach. I need coffee and a good episode of The Simpsons to shake this bad vibe.
8/23/95 - Yesterday I attended a memorial service. I did not know the man who had died, but went out of respect for his friend with whom I work. I hope when I die someone can effect the people at my service in the same way I was moved yesterday. It wasn't so much the words that were spoken as it was the love that came out with them. What transfers feelings? Was it the voices? They weren't strained; friends and family spoke with clarity, certainty and as much joy for having known the man as grief at his departure. I wish I had the opportunity to share in this joy and in some way I feel grief for this smaller loss. This has taught me to appreciate the gifts of those around me so when anyone else goes to a better place I can mix more joy with the grief.
8/24/95 - I spoke to a friend last night. The subject turned to character faults. She said she was judgmental and this lessened her character. I don't remember how we twisted to this point of view, but we decided that everyone should be judgmental. We all have limited lifetimes on Earth and we should maximize the satisfaction derived during this time period. One very important way of doing this is by spending time with people we enjoy. It is by being judgmental that we determine these people's identity. The character flaw is not in the judging, but how we act once the judging has taken place.
8/25/95 - Today I speak about one of my most personal and personably valuable possessions: my favorite ball cap. I own about 10 ball caps of which I wear 4 with a certain regularity. I have the nice cap (that is not yet dirty); the fun cap (I spray painted multi-colored polka dots onto it); the backup cap (which actually gets worn the most); and I have my favorite cap. My favorite cap used to be stark white with a royal blue "W&L" (Washington and Lee) on the front. I have worn it so much and with so much enthusiasm that the white is now grey and the blue is crusted over from sweat and ocean water. The truly amazing thing is when a hat gets like this everyone but the owner thinks it's one of the most disgusting things on Earth. (I have verified this statement with my roommate. He agrees and offers as proof his hat. His hat is the most disgusting thing on Earth; he wears it constantly. The difference between him and me is that he only owns one hat at a time, so he literally wears his cap constantly... It is so gross.) The last sentence before the previous 'mid- paragraph footnote' is more or less my point. The thing that makes a favorite cap so great is that it is a part of yourself. It has been with you through everything; it even smells like you; toward this cap you feel the kind of loving bond that a parent has with a child (I guess). Geez, I could go on forever... But I should probably get working now.
8/28/95 - I've, once again, been ejected from another great and musical weekend. The wrap up was a 2 hour Dave Matthews experience I shared with the other 26K people at the Nissan Pavillion. Twenty six thousand is a big number, and Dave did a remarkable job playing to a crowd that large as did Dion Ferris (who will have to excuse me for having little clue how to spell her name). Highlights for me included many old songs like Drive In Drive Out, Two Step, Dangerous Hours and my personal favorite Lie in Our Graves (I know this is weird, but I get a charge out of knowing songs few other people do). Dion rocked too; very good vocal harmonies and a good sense of when to bring the groove down. Before the concert treat, my band practiced. We added a trumpet to many of our songs (which makes them kick even more butt (Josh, thanks; see you next weekend)). I think we should open up for Dave soon; we rock; come see us.
8/29/95 - Last night I went running (which is not unusual; did I mention that I am a runner?) and I realized that I can run a race next monday morning. This, by itself, is not remarkable; what is remarkable is that I get to race with some of my former teammates. Actually I haven't really raced with these guys before because they all graduated from High School at the same time or later than I got out of college, but we all have at some time within the last 4 years ran for Washington and Lee University. I look forward to the chance to share the road with these folks. Wish me luck.
8/30/95 - Believe it or not I have no plan for today. I don't know what I'm going write here and I don't know what I'm going to do in 5 minutes or at any time past that. I suppose I do have some idea. Work will occupy most of my time during the next 10 hours. I will, at some point around noon, leave to go home where lunch and MTV await. Pretty much every day at 5pm I do sit-ups and push-ups and then run. I like to run on the University of Richmond campus, and I probably will today, but since classes have started up everyone and their roommates are out running on campus. When the run is over I'll probably sit on my porch and read Time Magazine or a book or something. Then I'll eat some food, listen to some music, go to bed, sleep, get up tomorrow and start all over again. Exciting; only 2.5 days until the weekend.
8/31/95 - Hey, Look; Today is the August's last day! Tomorrow, remember to flip your calendars. Don't do it today though... It's bad luck (or something). When I was in college a friend started me on a strange tradition; The first thing I say every month is "Rabbit, Rabbit". I think this is supposed to bring me good luck. Not being completely sure what good luck is, I'd have to say it's working. I wouldn't say I've had great luck, but I would most certainly have to say things are going well. I guess the moral of this story is say your "Rabbit"s; it can't hurt. A good way to remeber this is to leave a Post It note in one of the first places you look every morning. I think I usually don't utter a sound for a good 25 minutes after I get up. I'm usually to work before I see anyone so I could leave a note on my steering wheel and be relatively certain "Rabbit, Rabbit" would be the first thing out of my mouth. Well, work time.