the 6th week

I've decided to keep these chronicles going, and this will probably be the hardest one I've written so far. Life without Mo has been rough, and recounting our last days together doesn't promise to lift my mood at all. I'm thankful that I have friends to help me through this rough decision and the unfortunate consequences, namely her not sharing in my life anymore. I promised not to turn this into a drama, and I'm sticking to that.

MLK Day. I had the day off, and I'm not even black! I went to Mom & Dad's, and Dad and I had a fire in the backyard with snow falling all around. We examined my car, found the exhaust leak that's been making my car smell acrid all the time. A $200 part, we ordered it and will replace it this weekend. Mom fed me some homemade chicken and dumplings, and I headed home amidst blustery snow showers. Interstate 75 was shut down from a massive car pileup due to the snow creating whiteout conditions. There were few injuries, but a 12-year-old girl was killed. She stepped out of her car and got hit by a passing car. Learning that made me feel sick. I don't deal well with the deaths of children. I took back-roads home, and Mo came over for a bit, and Blake came home from an extended weekend in Mason, and I met his girlfriend Traci. They're like carbon copies, so of course she's pretty cool. We headed over to Amos' and watched a movie called "The Room." Don't see it.

Tuesday. I worked 6:30-2:00. Ana called off sick, so lunch was crazy. Eric and I sat down, and he went over some actual Assistant Store Manager duties. Up to this point, I told him, "Assistant Store Manager has essentially been a made-up title." The cold was fierce today, and I spent the evening bundled up at home watching episodes of The West Wing with Ams. She headed home, and I watched a provocative documentary called "The World Without US", about what would happen if the USA brought all its troops from around the world home. Basically all hell would break loose.

Wednesday. I worked 6:30-1:30 and spent the afternoon hanging out with Mo, Isaac, and Ams. We watched the movie "Stake Land" and did some collective storytelling. Mo and Ams left and Isaac went to bed, and I did some light reading before passing out: The First Battle at Bull Run.

Thursday. I covered Ana's F.P. shift. Today was, in Amos' words, "Let's Get Fucked Day": a skeleton crew, insanely busy because of the cold, and two impromptu catering orders absent Mears. But we survived. I didn't get home till about 4:00, and I did some reading and finished laundry before spending some time at The Anchor. I jetted to Clifton to spend the evening with Amos and John, playing video games and watching stand-up comedians while dining on delivery pizza. 

Friday. By far the most difficult day of the week, and the most difficult of the year thus far. Mo and I broke up, and it was hard as hell. After it happened Ams came over to be with me, and when Blake and Isaac found out they invited me to Lebanon and Clifton for drinks. Being exhausted and certainly not in the mood for socializing, I was passed out by 9:30.

Saturday. I didn't sleep much last night, for obvious reasons. I went to The Anchor and then headed up to Dayton. Dad and I forsook the expensive part for a jerry-rigged patch over the leaking exhaust pipe. It cost $15 rather than $200, and the hope is that it actually works (so far, so good). It took us about five hours, and when we wrapped up I hurried back down to Cincinnati for an impromptu going-away dinner with Emily and Gabe. Isaac fixed a dish of chicken, asparagus, and potatoes, and we shot zombies on the Wii and watched "Jon Benjamin Has A Van." Josh and Ams were there, too, and they brought some hard cider. People filtered out, and Isaac's brother John came by. We went across the street to the Happy Hollow Inn, the definition of a dive bar, grotty with dim lighting. But the drinks are cheap and it's pretty chill, so I liked it. Isaac bought us a round, and a fellow named Doug at the end of the bar bought a round for us, since we're neighbors right across the street. 

Sunday. I went to The Anchor and then hurried up to Dusmesh for my Sunday Stuffing with Andy, Isaac, and Ams. I napped back home and went to The Anchor yet again, and the evening was spent hanging out with Isaac, Blake, and Traci: we went to the Happy Hollow Inn and had a series of shots, and then we all went back to the house and promptly went to bed.

1/25/13

Mo and I broke up. One of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It has nothing to do with her, she's amazing. The unfortunate reality is that sometimes things don't line up precisely as you'd hoped. This is yet another reason to avoid dating altogether: most of the time, in the end, you get hurt, or, worse, you hurt someone else. I never meant to cause any harm, and I care for her deeply. I've decided not to turn this into some dramatic spectacle for my blog. Yes, there is pain; yes, I have much I want to say; but this is one of those things that's best left to my journal. Suffice it to say, this has been a difficult week and though I know that the decision was the wisest one given the circumstances, it doesn't make it any easier. 

I've decided, in lieu of this, to stop the weekly updates that cover every detail of my life. As much as I might enjoy chronicling my life, there's a better place to do it than on a blog open to the public. I'll still be sharing all the adventures of my life, so expect at least three posts a month, as those are the number of "adventures" I usually have in that allotment of time. 

the 5th week

Monday. I've come down with an awful cold, but I'm not complaining: when everyone else seems to be catching the flu, a cold isn't half bad. I went to The Anchor before closing with Frank, and then I headed over to Amos' to spend the evening hanging out with the usual Monday Night crew. I didn't stay too long: I went home early to get in some NyQuil and The West Wing before crashing early. Sneezes, sneezes, sneezes: that's really 'bout all I did today.

Tuesday. Eric started training as Store Manager today. It'll be good to work with him. I worked 6:30-2:30. The sneezes were gone, replaced with a nose leaking like a loose faucet. I went through a whole box of tissues by the end of my shift. I went to The Anchor after work, and Mo came over for a bit before heading out to see her dad, who's in town. Isaac and I watched The West Wing for a bit, and then I went to bed.

Wednesday. Another opening shift that went smoother than yesterday: my nose isn't running so much, but I felt "off" most of the day. I took a nap after work, and then Ams came over. We hung out for most of the evening, and I went to Kroger for cottage cheese & club crackers. Mo came over, too, and the three of us plus Corey burnt incense and talked late into the night.

Thursday. I covered Ana's F.P. shift. I was still feeling sickly so I cancelled Thursday night hang-out with Johnny and the Gang. Instead I changed into my pajamas straightaway and spent most of the evening watching The West Wing, trying to catch up with Ams. Mo came over and we watched Inception with Corey, plus an interesting documentary on lucid dreaming. 

Friday. I went to The Anchor before closing with Frank. Today was Brandon's "last day" as manager: he's stepped down and will be working counter shifts with Corey at Carew. I went to Ams' place to see her and Roxy, who's been shitting blood and vomiting all over the place. I headed home, got stuck in traffic with a splitting headache, and felt sick by the time I got home. Mo came over to comfort me. We watched some West Wing and she tucked me in before leaving, and I passed out.

Amos' 28th Birthday. I woke feeling quite refreshed and happy: refreshed, because I took a much-needed shit in the middle of the night; and happy, because I woke to find Mo sleeping on the sofa. She'd gone out for a pub crawl with friends in Mt. Adams and came over to my place around 4 A.M. just because she wanted to see me. Of course I was sleeping, so she just curled up on the sofa and waited for me to wake. Being Amos' birthday, he and I grabbed Dusmesh for lunch with Ams and Corey, and then we spent the afternoon gaming with John and Brandy. Mo, Ams, Corey and I hung out back at the apartment. Mo left to study at the hospital, and I went to The Anchor to study Puritanism and the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. 

Sunday. I woke and went to The Anchor. Mo came over, and we grabbed coffee downtown at Carew. I bid Emily farewell, since it was her last shift: she and Gabe are moving down to Florida, just twelve miles outside Disneyland (or Disneyworld? I always get the two confused). Mo took me out to lunch at her favorite restaurant, Duchess in Hydpe Park. It was pretty amazing: I had a beer paired with a portabello mushroom sandwich and pasta. She went off to study at the hospital and I showered in preparation for Game Night at the Loth House, but I fell asleep instead. That's okay, since Game Night didn't happen. I woke groggy, watched a few episodes of The West Wing with Isaac (finished Season 2), and when Blake got back from his weekend with Traci we played Black Ops on his PS3.

mind. blown.

Look familiar? It's the world, of course, the map we've always known. Known as the Mercator map, it was designed for the specific purpose of navigation, not for portraying the world in an accurate size, shape, and distance ratio. The straight lines on the Mercator map represent lines of constant compass bearing, and distortions of size, shape, and relative distance were distorted for the ease of navigation. If a navigator in the 17th century wanted to sail from England to New England, all he'd have to do is draw a line between the two locations, and he'd know which compass direction to sail to reach his destination. Never intended as a wall map, it nevertheless grew in popularity as an accurate representation of our world. Critics pointed out the distortions, and in 1973 German historian and journalist Arno Peters came out with a new map that, he said, fixed some of these problems: although failing to be an "accurate" map in the sense that no rectangular, one-dimensional map can represent accurately a spherical object, it nonetheless brings clarity to the relative size and shapes of the different landmasses.

It looks different, doesn't it? It's almost an entirely different way of looking at the world. Although not without its flaws, this map does bring to light some of the problems with the Mercator map. Take Greenland, for example. In the Mercator projection, Greenland and China look the same size; but China is almost four times as large! Not to harp on Greenland, but again: in the Mercator map, Greenland seems to be about the same size as Africa, yet Africa's landmass is actually fourteen times larger. The Peters projection seeks to remedy this problem, and its most outspoken advocates add a political twist: the Mercator projection, they claim, is steeped in Eurocentrism, focused on bloating Europe's prominence in the world at the expense of everything else. This is a critique from hindsight, and it's inconsistent: the map distortions are there because of the purpose of the Mercator projection, that being a navigation tool, not a Euro-supremacist agenda. The Peters map, by portraying relative sizes of all the landmasses, emphasizes how small Europe and North America actually are. South America and Africa are massive, and this, they say, is a non-racist projection (though one must question this sentiment, for a projection that comes about as a reaction to an apparent political dilemma is by nature political itself).  

But for the sake of being mind-blown yet again, what would the world look like if we looked at the Peters map upside-down? Remember that the earth is spinning through our solar system without any real "up" or "down"; north and south exist only in reference to earth's poles. One can look down upon the earth from any position in space and see "what it really looks like", and looking at it "upside-down" is no less legitimate than looking at it "right-side up".

the 4th week

Monday. I had the day off work to spend it with Mo, but she made other plants. "You mean she had class?" Blake quipped. She came over later in the afternoon, and I made chicken in the crock-pot and homemade mashed potatoes for dinner. We played Scattergories with Blake and Ams and headed over to the Loth House for a chill night playing video games.

Tuesday. Back to work: 7:30-2:30. Brandon came by after work, and we enjoyed some treats with Blake who called off work tonight because he's been feeling "sick." Ams and I met up with Mom & Dad at Smokey Bones BBQ up I-75. I ate so many St. Louis Ribs I could burst. Ams and I hung out with Isaac back home till late in the night, and then she left and we all went to bed.

Wednesday. I went to The Anchor after opening with Dave. Ams & Josh broke up, and he was being quite a dick to her. She came over and we talked about it. Mo came by, too, and we drank beers and watched episodes of The Walking Dead: Season 2.

Thursday. Not an exciting day: I covered Ana's Food Prep shift and spent the evening at the Loth House playing Call of Duty: Black Ops 2 with John, Amos, Isaac, and Ams.

Friday. Amos & I opened together. I ran back downtown after work to give Brandon and Jake a little gift, and I got a brownie off Josh. Amos and I hung out for a bit, and then Mo, Ams and I enjoyed the brownie and watched the movie Clue. 

Saturday. Amos & I got Dusmesh for lunch, our first Indian of the year. Ams joined us at his place for some video games, and then I spent a couple hours at The Anchor finishing up the third draft of The Procyon Strain: Book One. I sent it to Mo to see what she thinks. I spent the evening reading colonial American history, and Ams came over and we watched a couple episodes of The West Wing. 

Sunday. I spent the morning running errands, and I got an iced soy latte from the Starbucks here in town. It was awful just watching it being made. The afternoon was spent reading and watching TV. The rainy evening was spent writing at The Anchor, and then I headed over to the Loth House to hang out with John, Brandy, Amos, Isaac & Ams. I hurried home to see Blake, and we enjoyed McFlurries paired with "The Office."

from the anchor (II)

I'm at The Anchor on a rainy day, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. The last few days have been spent studying life in New England during the 1600s, and as thrilling as that might be, I have to keep myself from "leaping ahead." Nevertheless, I've spent a considerable amount of time rereading essays and articles on the causes leading up to the American Revolution. That's the stuff that gets my pulse quickening, and it's more of an incentive to buckle down and stay the course: by the end of February it should be time to delve into the events between 1763 and 1775, fleshing them out with all their intricate details. It'll be on par with dissecting some beast you've known but want to know more intimately; books be the carcass, and my mind the scalpel.

I talked over my new proposed Master's route with my parents and sister, and they all think it's a better way to go. Mom works at a school and pointed out one of the teachers who did exactly what I'm doing. It worked out well for him, why not give it a shot? My eye is currently on Liberty University: a two-year online program, and I've got my Master's and a teacher's certificate at the end of it. I'm hoping 2013 is a year of change, a year of movement, a break from the stagnation and a foot--more like a stomp--forward.

On that note, Amos and I are attempting the whole "quitting smoking" thing again. Amos and I talked about the difficulty of quitting smoking while, ironically, smoking cigarettes in the early morning chill outside 600 Vine. I've smoked for so many years that I can't imagine life without smoking. Sure, the vast majority of my life was lived absent cigarettes: but those days are all but dead and gone, if not surviving only in memory, and quitting smoking is essentially like relearning life. There's a kick-ass website out there, I forget the name, but it's all about that: relearning life in a non-smoking world. It sounds ridiculous to those who don't smoke, but the barrier seems insurmountable. Thankfully I've known several people who've smoked as much if not more than I have, and who quit cold turkey and survived, emerging through the addictive hellhole out onto the other shore. Tomorrow--Monday--is my first day "absent cigarettes," and I've got a regimen of fake cigarettes and nicorette to keep me plowing along in the hardest moments. May my spine be strengthened and my resolve cemented!

As a reward to myself, the money saved not buying cigarettes goes to the purchase of books. Ams said the money should go to savings, and it should; but what kind of incentive is that? 

It's almost 6:00 and I'm going to head over to the Loth House to see John, Brandy, and Amos for a little bit. The rest of my night will hopefully involve a McFlurry from McDonald's and lots of The West Wing. 

[december studies]

Countless trips to The Anchor with many more countless cups of coffee spurred my month-long intensive study of the European colonization of the New World, from the European conquest of the Canaries in the Atlantic to the end of the Powhatan Confederacy at Jamestown in 1618. While studying in the cafe after we closed, Bob walked in and asked what I was doing. I told him I was reading a book about North America in the years immediately prior to European settlement. He asked if it was fiction, and I said No. "I can only read historical fiction," he said. "I just like a good story." Well, isn't that what history is? 

My studies began, as I said, at the Canaries. The European enslavement of the indigenous Guanche peoples set the stage for European policy with colonial expansion. Columbus set sail from the Canary Islands and reached the Mediterranean in 1491. Although often hailed as the first European to discover the New World, he thought it was western India for the longest time, and as he died he was still unsure as to its true identity. He wasn't the first, either: the Vikings had attempted a settlement in North America many years prior, but the native Americans had sent them hurrying back home. The conquering of the Mediterranean gave the Spanish an operating base for incursions into South and Central America. The destruction of the Inca (who had one of the most successful and humanitarian empires in human history), the annihilation of the Aztec (also known as the Triple Alliance, and almost as sophisticated in philosophy as the ancient Greeks; also, they were the first to make sure every male had a formal public education), and the bloody subjugation of the Mayans was due not to Spanish steel and might but to European germs. The Inca of Peru had been consumed internally by political strife and smallpox before being slowly wiped out by the Spaniards. The Aztecs repulsed the infamous Cortes, and his eventual domination was due not to his own prowess but by recruiting thousands upon thousands of indigenous natives, who had been under the heel of the Aztecs, to lead the revolt (the fall of the Aztec capital was one of the costliest battles in human history, with 200,000 deaths and the city razed to the ground; and this after 2/3 of the Aztec population was exterminated by disease). Winning over the native Americans who were too weak against the onslaught of European disease, the Spanish sought to take over North America as well, in the hope of finding gold and silver. Their efforts were futile, but revealing: excursions into the Mississippi Valley revealed a North America teeming with powerful Indians and vast societies. The Europeans spread disease, got their asses kicked, and headed back to New Spain. 

Their footprints in North America were felt for hundreds of years to come: millions of Indians died as European diseases traveled along Indian trade routes and laid waste to the American northeast. Entire Indian groups dissolved, villages abandoned, entire peoples gone. The Europeans didn't see this happen: because the European powers craved gold and silver, and because North America didn't have it, there was really no point in settling it. The climate was too mild for the cash crops of molasses, sugar-cane, and tobacco (tobacco could be grown, but it was far too harsh to compete with the West Indie varieties). Another reason for avoiding settlement of North America was that there were still far too many people. The Spanish, French, and English attempted settlements, and the vast majority of these failed due to Indian hostilities (they kicked the Vikings out, they were pretty bad-ass). The French, by happenstance, monopolized upon the burgeoning fur trade (Indians traded animal furs for European goods, especially metal), but they didn't make any permanent settlements: the Indians were too prosperous, and they controlled the trade. So as the French, Dutch, and English sought to curb Spanish trade domination through the advent of licensed piracy, the Indians of North America went through terrifying epidemics. The introduction of European diseases would, in time, decimate up to 96% of the Native American population. The fragmented societies often coalesced into different tribes, or wandered the land as refugees to be absorbed into other Indian groups. By the time of English colonization in North America, the majority of the Indian nations known had been created out of the refuse of disease or, at the least, had been severely reworked. 

The peoples of North America descended into a state of perpetual war: tribes warred against one another in the effort to attain domination over the various tribes in the area, and the escalation of warfare was monopolized upon by the Dutch and French: they sold guns to the Indians in return for furs, and the Indians would use these guns in their own wars against one another. The American frontier became a bloody, violent place as Indian groups sought to regain control and balance in the aftermath of the plague. Epidemic after epidemic led the land ripe for the plucking, and when England stormed onto the scene, she was able to get a foothold in Jamestown. There were still lots of Indians, but they were crippled by disease and, in the web of native American politics, had their hands forced to "make room" for English colonization. The Native Americans at Jamestown allowed the English to live there: the chief Indian, Powhatan, sought to use the English to his advantage against his enemies. This was an unfortunate move that eventually led to the downfall of the Powhatan Confederacy as the English population became too big to get rid of. In Plymouth, the famous site of the first Thanksgiving, the Indian leader Massasoit embraced the English as friends only because he needed the threat of their presence to protect his feeble, disease-charred tribe from annihilation at the hands of the hostile Narragansett Indians prowling along his borders. By giving the English footholds in Jamestown and Plymouth, the Native Americans sealed their fate: the English would keep coming, bringing with them livestock that would decimate the lands, weeds that would kill the crops, and diseases that would turn entire Indian civilizations into ghost towns. 

Ultimately, the first 127 years of European interaction with the New World is a story of two hemispheres colliding and how the earthquakes changed the face of the Western Hemisphere. One out of every five people on earth died from disease, making it the worst plague in human history. 

It's a humbling thing to think about, it really is.

We Americans are literally living on top of an apocalypse.

This month (January) will be spent studying colonial America.

At least colonial America up to 1754.

Because then comes The French & Indian War.

February will be delightful!

a sea of memory

The cold, the wind, the rain, the ice, the snow: January's hallmarks have always had a profound grasp on my moods. Cycling through old blog posts and journal entries, January stands out as one of the most nostalgic months of the year. And by that I mean my nostalgic tendencies tend to flare up like a bad case of gout whenever the new year rolls around. I find myself looking back on the "old days": last year I looked back upon my days in Dayton, hitting the town with Carly and Jessica, that old troupe of koalas, cats, and owls; this year I look back to all those days at the Claypole House, those days of immense hope and joy, those days when Rob and Mandy were still around, when I was passionate about work, when I felt like my life was moving somewhere. Everything sorta hit a brick wall in 2012: the whole lymphoma scare set off a chain reaction of paranoia that continues to raise its ugly head every now and again. Coming through the storm and out the other side, some things are clearer while others are far more vague.

This time last year I wrote a post about my thirst for rebirth, a rebirth spawning from action rather than hope on its own accord. There is such a thing as an empty hope, the sort of hope encapsulated in the image of a broken, worn-down man sitting on his ass cutting himself with pots (did I just make a Job reference? Sure did, and without effort). Countering such empty hope is active hope, the sort of hope that fleshes itself in actual movement. Taking steps, making change, moving towards goals. This time last year I didn't really have any goals, just a vague idea regarding the course I wanted my life to follow. Now, at least, I have an end goal: become a history teacher. Weave together my passion for history and my passion for teaching into a career where I make substantially more than I do now, avoid the cubicle, and do what I love (knowing full-well, of course, that there's no such thing as a "perfect job," and even a career rooted in one's passions is prone to all its difficulties and disappointments). 

Brandon came over yesterday after work, and I told him about how I withdrew my application for Norwich University and am currently investigating other Masters degrees for education. I have a couple schools picked out and have been researching them. I told him how I was pretty bummed about not going to Norwich: the decision to look elsewhere was born out of financial practicality more than anything else, and though I've sought justification for going back to Norwich, I just can't do it. Although I would love their program--the vast majority of the classes center on those subjects in history that I find most fascinating--it's just not practical. Brandon comforted me, pointing out that I've always been the sort to "study on my own," and to do so well, and that even outside a Master's in American History, I could probably, in due time, school some of the graduates. 

This time last year I craved rebirth, and now I'm actually pursuing it. It's a good feeling, but there's always doubt: "What if this is just another debt-stacking maneuver? What if it comes to nothing?" That very well may be the case, but I'm hopeful: there's only a 2% unemployment rate for the degree I'm looking into, and currently there's a shortage of teachers in Ohio, especially in the Cincinnati area. To bolster my resume I've been tinkering with the idea of becoming a substitute teacher following this summer: there's a shortage of them, too, and the minimum daily pay is still more than what I make now. It'd be good experience, and I could possibly secure a position with a school district when my graduation rolls around.

I'm at The Anchor and I have to poop.

So that's the end of this post.

the 3rd week

The West Wing. IT'S ON NETFLIX!

New Year's Eve 2012. I worked a slow 7:30-3:00, hung out with Blake, and took a nap. By the time I woke up, people were filtering in for our so-called New Year's Bash. (disregard the "so-called," as no one actually called it that). Ams, Andy, and John H. joined Blake, Isaac and me for a night of food and drinks. Blake made vegetarian lasagna and Andy and Isaac made fondue. We pounded beer after beer and were quite drunk by the time the ball dropped. Ams went home, Isaac and Andy passed out on the floor, John curled up on the sofa, and Blake and I parted ways to our bedrooms to sleep off 2012.

New Year's Day 2013. I got McDonald's for breakfast while the house nursed hangovers. My day was spent hanging out with Blake & Ams, watching The West Wing, and playing MW3. There was a trip to The Anchor, of course; what better way to break in a new year? I read in its entirety the 350-page book by Bernard Bailyn entitled The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution. 

Wednesday. Dave & I opened, a slow morning but significantly busier than it's been. As the Suits return from vacation, we'll be back to where we need to be. And I really need that right now: holiday hours means skeletal paychecks. My evening after work was spent watching The West Wing and talking with Mo. She'll be back from Michigan Sunday, and we're gonna have one hell of a party.

Thursday. After work I ran up to Dayton to pick up some mail and hurried back downtown for a 600 Vine work meeting. Of import, Eric will be the new G.M. Hopefully we'll start seeing some much-needed changes. After the meeting all the stores convened at Rock Bottom for beer and dinner on Bob. I had a single mocha imperial stout and was quite buzzed, maybe even drunk. Amos and I played CoD2 back at his place and I called Mo before bed.

Friday. I had the day off (holiday hours) and ran some errands, including picking up Mo's Christmas present at Rookwood Commons. I spent the afternoon watching The West Wing before hitting up The Anchor to play catch-up on my blog, per Blake's request. The night was spent at the Loth House playing video games and hanging out with John & Brandy, Amos, Ams, Isaac, and Isaac's brother John and his girl.

Saturday. A mundane day filled with TV (The West Wing, Sherman's March, and some Carl Sagan) and hanging out with Isaac and Ams (with a trip to The Anchor, of course). Ams and I made some kick-ass parmigiana dish for dinner.

Sunday. My morning was spent cleaning, and then Ams came over and we watched episodes of The West Wing (finished Season One, on to Season Two!), and when Andy came by we grabbed Wendy's for dinner. I jetted over to the Loth House for an evening of role-playing (or "community storytelling") with Andy, Isaac, Amos, Dave, and Dave's friend Rodney. The game, locked into a grid of the zombie apocalypse, didn't start on time, as is usually the case, so I hunted down John, Brandy, and Ams and hung out with them for a while. I left around 8:00 and Mo came over, finally home from Michigan, and we stayed up late hanging out with Isaac and Blake, drinking wine and amoretto with rice milk. 

from the anchor

My morning has been spent thus far at The Anchor, drinking coffee and researching Master's degrees in education. Although I want more than anything to get my Master's in American History, I'm forcing myself to be economical (for once) and to pursue something more straightforward. There are TONS of master's degrees in education out there, so many online, and I've found a solid number that might be fit for me. I've requested information from about five universities and plan on hammering out a plan to become a teacher in the next three years. It'd be great to become a history or social studies teacher, but we'll have to see what options are open: those specialized teaching degrees seem all about having an undergraduate or minor in history, which I don't have.

Mo's coming back tonight around 8:00.

I can't begin to communicate how excited I am to have her back.

That means I'll have to clean my room and house today.

Where's Blake when you need him?

Tonight I'm playing a zombies version of "Dungeons & Dragons" with Isaac, Amos, Andy, and Dave. I've never done any sort of story-telling role-playing games, so it'll be interesting. I was on the fence about it, but the zombie scenario sealed the deal for me. Our story's starting somewhere in Red River Gorge, and I just might make a little novella out of what happens. That would be fun, so long as it's a decent story.

Regarding writing, I've been doing a bit more of it lately, trying to get on the ball with my zombie serial. I've decided to write it just to write it, not because I want to write "the best zombie series out there" but because, quite simply, I like writing about zombies, and if I can throw something together that brings people joy, then I'd call it a job well done. I'm going to finish polishing up the Epilogue to Book 1 this afternoon and send it to Mo to read. The book got good reviews from Mandy and Ams, and I've added about five more chapters to try and bring it more up-to-speed with my intentions for Book 2.

It's 9:20 and I'm going to pack up my things and go.

They've been playing country music on the jukebox all morning.

I can only take so much of that, you know?

new year, new post

"It's a new year," Blake said. "Time for a new post."
"I know man," I said.
"Be my child soldier," he said.
"Be my Joseph Kony!" I exclaimed.
There was more to that, but social decency begs me to cut it short right there.

New Year's Resolutions? Honestly I haven't started thinking about that till this very moment. The first post of a new year should, at the least, include new year's resolutions, should it not? Perhaps. But as I'm classic, I'll refrain, from listing more than two. (1) Quit Smoking. For real this time. (2) Start Grad School. 

The year's been awesome so far.

Cold, snowy, windy, lots of days off.

Finances are hurting a little bit, but we'll be on solid footing come February.

Mo's been in Michigan for almost two weeks. She was going to come back the third, but her parents begged her to stay a few more days, and though it sucks to have to wait till Sunday to see her, they have a legitimate point. She's hardly ever up there, bogged down with school and working at the hospital most of the year. There's some talk about her moving to Detroit come May, that whole "gotta find a job and survive" thing, and that's not a thought I'm too fond of. We'll figure it out. I have Monday off work to spend the day with her: I'm not sure what we're going to do, but I'm thinking a trip to the bar for a drink or two and homemade crock-pot chicken, and perhaps even chocolate-covered strawberries, are in the works. I tried talking her into joining me for a marathon of National Geographic documentaries about the Spanish conquest of Mesoamerica, but I think she wants to watch a musical instead. I'm not quite sure why, to be honest. But, again: we'll figure it out.

After lots and lots of toiling research, I've withdrawn my application for grad school at Norwich University. There's nothing wrong with the school, I just think there's a better route to go to reach my goal. The goal all along was to get my Master's in American History and then get my teaching license. In order to qualify for my teaching license outside of academic training for education, I'd have to accumulate around 30-60 more credit hours. In the end, if everything worked out, I'd have thousands upon thousands of dollars of debt. However, if I get my Master's in Education, and select the right program, I can graduate in 1-2 years with my teaching certification, without all the extra education. I'll still be thousands of dollars in debt, but nowhere near as debt as I would be with the first route. Although a rigorous education in history is something I'd love with all my being, there's no reason for me to pay all the extra cost to reach a destination that can be reached at sooner (and cheaper) in a different manner. Besides, I'm ballin' when it comes to personal study and research on my own time. A clinching argument for me was the simple statistic that the rate of underemployment/unemployment for those with Master's in Education degrees is much lower (by 5-6 percent) than those with a liberal arts degree. I also found out, to my delight, that Master's in Education programs tend to value those without undergraduate degrees in education more than those with them; and with a Master's of Education degree, I'm in a far better position strategically than those who simply have Bachelor's degrees in Education. And thus I decided instead to pursue a Master's of Education, and I'm currently researching different online programs to find the one that would best suit my needs.

A new year, a new post.

Now Blake can get off my back.