"Time...Why You Punish Me?"

I have been blessed with many things...but time is always the one thing I seem to be short on. Especially during the semester...no time to blog! Agh! See y'all later!

Swimming and Sunlight

Today was my day off. It has been a very pleasant day...

Have I ever mentioned how much I love to swim? I do love it...I'm not very good at it, mind you (don't get the wrong idea), but I love it just the same. If you're looking for a way to get exercise, swimming is by far the best option (in my opinion) because it's easy on your joints, it's great cardio (if you even care about that kind of thing...I don't really...), and best of all, you can't even tell that you've worked up a sweat. You just stay cool and comfortable. That's what I love the best about being in the pool. I am never more comfortable than when I'm sliding through the water, imagining I'm a fish (yes, I admit it, I pretend to be Nemo) and feeling the water swoosh by like a nice massage. After a stressful day at work, it's so nice to just hop in the pool, turn off my brain, and let the cares of the day wash away in a nice swim. During the summer it's especially nice because the rec center takes the roof off, so you can enjoy the sun too. Despite the fact that I have the fairest and most sensitive skin in the world, I really like being in the sun. Feeling the warmth of its rays beaming down on my skin is part of the joy of a good swim. There's a song I know that sums up the feeling perfectly:

Good day, sunlight
I'd like to say how truly bright
You are
You don't know me,
But I know you, see,
You're my favorite star...

It's a silly song, but a pleasant one. So anyway, I've been enjoying the pool all summer, but today I enjoyed it even more because two of my good friends came with me. As much fun as it is escaping into my own world, it's even better to go swimming with someone to talk to at the end of the lane. We even had the lifeguard joining into the conversation, a little bit. We were there for about two hours, just hanging out and swimming and having a good time.

Then I went home and narped. (No, that's not a misspelling. It's just a made-up word. Saxy and I discovered one day that the word "nap" means entirely different things to each of us. She goes for the 15-20 minute kind, whereas when I go down, I'm out for at least a couple of hours. So we decided to come up with some new terms. A "nip" is 45 minutes or less, a "nap" is 45 minutes to, say, an hour and a half, and a "narp" is anything longer than that. It's a very useful distinction. She nips, I narp. Webster ought to take our lead.) That, of course, was very nice.

Then I met Saxy and some of her friends at this great house. Saxy is house-sitting for some really rich lady, and the lady said she could have friends over to swim in the pool and watch movies and stuff. So we went over there and cooked fajitas and played in the backyard pool for a while. It was great fun. This house, seriously, is the nicest residence I have ever seen, with my own eyes. It was big, and everything was soooo nice. They even have surround sound by the pool. And all of us girls went crazy over the waterfall faucet in the guest bathroom. I don't know how to describe it to you if you've never seen one, but it is the coolest thing ever, trust me. I will probably never have a house that nice, and that's okay, but it was sure fun to imagine oneself living in a mansion like that. Wow.

After the pool party, I came home and cleaned my entire apartment. I guess I was inspired or something. I always try to take advantage of those housework inspirations, because goodness knows they don't come often enough!

And now, it's time to read a bit, and then to bed. Have a good night, everyone...

Shall We Dance?

Did you know that Fred Astaire is the coolest guy ever? I didn't know either, until last night. Turner Classic Movies is my friend this week, since my brother and most of my friends are gone...Saxy has to work most nights...so I'm just pretty much alone all the time. I won't deny it's a bit depressing (I could never live alone for any extended length of time), but hey, it gives me a chance to explore things I would never even think of if I had anyone to talk to.

Turner Classic Movies is one of those things. I like old movies, somewhat, but I usually don't seek them out. I watch them with my parents or my boyfriend, and I always enjoy them, but when I go to Blockbuster I'm usually there for something a bit more up-to-date. Something with cool effects, or a mind-bending plot, or nice big explosions, or Christian Bale... Well anyway, old movies are usually not the first thing to come to mind. Lately, though, I've been really in the mood for musicals, and most good musicals were made a long time ago. (True, there is a modern version of Chicago, but...hmm...it doesn't look like what I had in mind.) For instance, I love Singing in the Rain with Gene Kelly. (I'm still trying to figure out a way to see it again, but Blockbuster only has it on VHS. Silly old outdated technology.) On Sunday when I was visiting my parents, we watched Mary Poppins...another good one. (I love the chimney sweeps, they're so cool.) It was a compromise, though, because Mom and I really wanted to see a Fred Astaire movie. I'd never seen one, but as much as I like musicals, I love musicals with dancing...so it sounded just right. So anyway, we didn't get to see one, but yesterday as I was driving home from the pool (nursing a badly cramped right leg, I might add), I was thinking about it again, but I didn't know any titles of Fred Astaire movies, so I had no idea what to look for at the video store. So I just went home, turned on TCM to see what was on....and lo and behold, it was Fred Astaire Marathon night. Am I lucky or what?


I saw Top Hat, Swing Time, and Shall We Dance?. Great stuff. I like Shall We Dance? the best, I think because of the Gershwin music. So it was a fun night! I even broke out my blender and made strawberry smoothies for myself while I watched Fred and Ginger hoofin' it. I have a soft spot for dancing like that. I don't know how to dance at all, but I've always wished I could. It just looks like so much fun...they meet, they dance, they fall in love...call me sappy but I think it's great. Wouldn't it be awesome if normal people could just bust out with something like that at those Christmas parties or weddings or...walks in the park? Yeah, it'd be great. My proms didn't hold a candle to that.

So I guess the moral of the story is...when lonely, turn on TCM! At least on Fred Astaire night. Or, this Saturday, it's Jimmy Stewart all day! (I'm already planning on it...)

Boys. Girls. Whew. Complicated.

Have you ever read one of those informational books, or listened to a radio show, or watched a TV show centered around relationships? Like, Boy Meets Girl or The Five Love Languages or something like that? I'm sure we all have. (Even if we may not want to admit it...) I even went on a retreat in February with my church that was all about relationships. (It was called the "I Love Love" Southcrest Sprizzle Rizzle. Don't ask about "Sprizzle Rizzle." I don't know.) A lot of times, this information can be very helpful. Recently I listened to a Focus on the Family program called "What Women Should Know About Men." Or something like that. I found it fascinating, and very useful. However, after spending an evening with my brother discussing various points of it for hours on end, I admit I'm beginning to feel a bit exhausted with the whole subject. When you really think about it, guys and girls are so different, it's a wonder we can communicate at all. I mean, sure, we're all human, but as long as the species is cut in half, we're in for an interesting time. I've spent practically this entire evening trying to explain to my brother just exactly how women think and why they do what they do. This is exhausting for me, especially since I don't fully understand women either! Who knows what goes on in our crazy little heads? So I'm really not sure whether I've been any help to him at all. In any case, I'm ready for some brainless downtime. I'm thinking that relationships and gender roles are a good thing to study...but perhaps smaller doses are better.

So let's see...what's good for brainless downtime? Ah yes... GalaxyQuest. Perfect.

"Activate the Omega Thirteen..."

Good Advice

I have received lots of good advice today. Most of it has come from a new little book I got tonight called The Little Book of Etiquette. I have learned a lot about how boorish I really am. I make all kinds of mistakes at dinner. For instance, here are some things you should NEVER do:

• Push food onto your fork with your bread
• Yell out if you find a piece of foreign matter in the food
• Leave your spoon in your iced tea

And here's another good one: "Do not soak up gravy or sauce with bread and try to get every last morsel off your plate and into your mouth. Your plate should not appear as though it has been washed. It is always proper to leave a bite or two on your plate."

Now see, that is something I would never have known if this little book had not enlightened me. I always figured that eating everything was a compliment to the chef. I wonder how many people I've offended over the years...

Oh, and I have also received some Profound Relationship Advice from a good friend of mine who is married.

"Girl, don't marry a guy who likes skim milk."

Amen to that!

Back to the Books

Wow. It is almost time for me to think about school starting again. Time to buy myself a bouquet of sharpened pencils and get back to work. (Please ignore the maniacal howling you hear in the background. It's just my brother, who isn't ready for school because he took classes in both summer sessions. Including Physics II, which turned out to be the wrong Physics class for his degree anyway. Silly boy.) I am, I admit, somewhat sad to see the summer ending, but I really do love the school year, especially the fall. After all, I will get to see my boyfriend again, and several other good college friends who have been gone all summer. Also, football season is about to start, and you all know how I feel about football. It was all my dad and I could talk about over dinner the other night. (Fortunately, my mom wasn't there to be annoyed or bored to tears.) And then, of course, there is school. Contrary to appearances (I love to rant about how much homework annoys me), I actually enjoy school a lot. (If I had enough money, I would stay in school for years and get a masters and Ph.D. just for the fun of it. Unfortunately, however, my scholarship ends in '08 and so does my education.) I enjoy learning things, especially things you don't even think about in everyday life. Things like...ancient languages! This semester will be my first in classical Greek, and I am very excited about learning it. I have already taken 2 years of Latin, and I will continue that this year as well. I have even studied a smattering of Old English in my "History of the English Language" class. People sometimes ask me why I bother to learn dead languages. I don't really know why, except for the fact that I am fascinated by languages in general, and equally fascinated by ancient cultures. (And there's a bonus to dead languages--you don't have to bother learning to actually speak them. Anyone who has taken foreign language classes knows that speaking a different language is a sight harder than simply reading and writing in it, and that is the part that does a classicist no good whatsoever, since after all no one is alive to speak it with. We have it easy.) What can I say, I'm a words person! I am also taking stellar astronomy this year with Dr. Wilhelm, who is the best professor ever. I enjoy astronomy a lot, despite my general lack of a scientific mind, for much the same reason as I love ancient languages. It is just so fascinating to study something that you never even see in boring old everyday life. Who even thinks about stars and galaxies, unless they're watching the CNN NASA update (which is always full of snide commentary about how we should be spending our tax money on welfare instead)? I love to think about the vast stretches of space, some of which we humans will never see, and about how "the heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of His hands."

So I suppose I should admit that, overall, I like studying. The thing I don't like about the school year, though, is that I don't get to read much. Between class, work, studying, church, housework, coffee shop socializing, and sleeping more than 4 hours a night, I just don't get to curl up with a good book as often as I'd like. Someone needs to invent a 30-hour day. After all, if we can manage Daylight Savings Time, what's stopping us? Until that happens, though, I just have to take advantage of the summer. The next couple of weeks my nose will be firmly planted between the pages of some wonderfully non-academic books. Fantasy is my favorite genre, and today as I was walking in the SF section of the library I was assaulted by about 15 titles I really want to read. I only have 2 weeks, though, so I had to be choosy. The one I chose is called The Redemption of Althalus.

One of the things I love best about fantasy is the amount of crazy names you find. "Althalus," isn't that great? I just adore names like Sorka, F'lar, Polgara, Luthe, Darmok (hehe), Harimad, Twengor, Gwenhwyfar...and the like. (Tolkien's names are especially lovely. Galadriel just rolls off your tongue, and I can scarcely imagine a more noble-sounding name than Aragorn.) I have a slight obsession with names anyway, since it seems that so much of what makes a person or object unique is tied up in their name, at least in my imagination. Again, I agree with Anne of Green Gables: a rose would not be nearly as pleasant if it were called a skunkbush. (This is why screen names are a bit disconcerting for me. They never seem to be quite right, for me or anyone else.) I already feel rather sorry for my poor future children, because I don't think I will be able to give them normal names like Brandon or David or Polly or Sue. No, my kiddos will have names like Aerin or Vesper or Corlath, and will therefore be spelling their names wherever they go. Hehe maybe Corlath can be a middle name or something...I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

Well, the more I talk about fantasy the more I long to bury myself in it...so it is time to put this entry to bed and go curl up with Althalus. Have a good night, y'all.

Sometimes I Feel Like a Sad Song...

Ah, there is nothing better than music...and nothing better than sad music. I am not sure why, but I have always had a strong affinity for very sad songs. I don't just mean songs with sad lyrics, though, I mean sad songs. A lot of my favorite classical music is very melancholy, but it expresses itself without any words at all. (And, in fact, some songs with sad lyrics don't really count as sad songs in my book. I know one called "On Love, In Sadness," which, while a good song, is still pretty upbeat, so it just somehow doesn't put one into the same pensive mood that, say, a Chopin nocturne does.) I love music that brings a tear to your eye and makes you feel as though your heart would break. It's not that I am a pessimistic or despondent sort of person, generally. On the contrary, I'd say I'm a pretty happy chick as a rule. I just find an unmatched beauty in moments of quiet melancholy. It's always been that way, for me. I loved to play slow songs on the piano, and I never liked it much when my piano teacher tried to get me to play gospel or ragtime or just about anything upbeat. She thought I was a pretty strange duck. "You want to play classical? Not pop? Or country? Or gospel?" I was especially fond of slow songs in minor keys; I still am, in fact. I love artists like Sarah McLachlan and Josh Groban, who themselves have a penchant for mournful tunes. And there is nothing that compares to the dark and brooding aura of a Rachmaninoff piece.

So...why? Why on earth would any right-minded person want to feel sad, anyway? (Of course this begs the question of whether or not I am actually in my right mind. I am going to assume that I am for the sake of the argument, but I suppose it's understandable if you disagree.) Sadness is generally considered a negative emotion...something we try to chase away with our Prozac and who knows what else. I honestly have no clue why I seek it out. All I know is that my preferences very often tend toward sad things. It isn't just music. Movies like Dead Poets Society, books like A Separate Peace, plays like Hamlet... Maybe it just reminds me that I'm alive and human. Maybe it provides a necessary emotional balance or something. As my man Jason Mraz says,

"It takes some cold to know the sun
It takes the one to have the other..."

Or...maybe I'm just nuts. There's always that possibility. Ah well...at least I'm happy being sad.

The Lake of Shining Waters

I live in the most wonderful place in the world. I mean that. I love Lubbock, and I particularly love my particular area of it. I live in an apartment complex that is just across the street from a lovely little park that has a pond in the middle of it. I like to call that pond the Lake of Shining Waters. The name isn't original, of course, it's a reference to Anne of Green Gables, one of my favorite books as a child. Anne thinks that "Barry's Pond" is a dreadful name for such a fine place as the pond in the book, and I agree with her regarding my own pond. The actual name of the park is so boring I don't even remember it. Something like, "So-and-So Memorial Park." Blah. The Lake of Shining Waters is a gorgeous place, especially at night when the moonlight reflects off the water. It deserves far better nomenclature.

(For those of you who have listened to my "I Hate Camping" rant, it might comfort you to know that I do like the outdoors. I just like to enjoy it in small doses, while having the comforts of home nearby. For instance, right now I am listening to the sound of rain and thunder through my open window. It's lovely--a kind of natural symphony--but I'm very glad that I am not out in it getting soaked.)

So anyway, going back to Anne of Green Gables...I always felt a very strong bond with Anne back when I was younger. I always had the feeling that we would have been bosom friends if she had really existed. I am more like Diana Barry than I am like Anne, I suppose, but it seemed like we would have had plenty in common. Like Anne, I was always living in my imagination, making something mundane into something dramatic or just making up stories outright. I even had an imaginary twin that lived in the mirror. (Also, I had a very bad temper. You can ask my brother. I was always the one popping off and getting myself into trouble, while he was always sitting over there, polishing his halo.) I was always writing stories and illustrating them...and when I go back and read them today, it just makes me laugh. For instance, there was one called "The Man Who Didn't Know About Camels." How random is that? I had lots of other stories that usually involved my dolls turning into actual little people and doing interesting things. Sometimes I even wrote sports stories, usually about little girl gymnasts or figure skaters who went to the Olympics and won gold medals. Later I wrote poetry of various kinds, and I have always kept a diary. (One always needs something sensational to read in the train.)

But while writing is still a passion of mine (hence the length of my blog posts), in more recent years I've been wondering where all that creativity went. I just don't have any stories to write anymore. My capacity for stories left me at about the same time that my dolls stopped talking to me. It's a very sad thing, really. All my friends in high school just knew that I was going to be a famous novelist when I grew up (either that or the first woman president, but they weren't taking into account my distaste for politics), and while I don't suppose I've completely given up that dream, it seems a bit unrealistic for me to write when I have nothing to write about. And if you're thinking that perhaps I should try my hand at nonfiction, you may be right, but that just sounds so boring. I always wanted to be the next Tolkien or C.S. Lewis or Jane Austen. Not the next Stephen Ambrose.

There may be hope for me, though. Maybe someday I'll try my hand at historical fiction. I could perhaps write a novel set in ancient Rome (and then my degree would actually be "useful"!). In that case, I could be the next Henryk Sienkiewicz, who wrote Quo Vadis, which is one of the best books I have ever read in my life. ("Quo vadis?" means "Where are you going?" in Latin. Or "Whither goest thou?" if you prefer the King James Version.) It's a novel about the early Christians in Rome, under the reign of Nero. I highly recommend that every Christian read it. It's one of the most powerful and beautiful novels I have ever read, and trust me, I've read a lot. Sienkiewicz actually won the Nobel Prize for literature, so I'm not the only one enraptured by his work. If you read it, be sure to get the newest translation, by W.S. Kuniczak, as it is by far the best. So anyway, if I were to write historical fiction, I don't suppose I could ever quite match Quo Vadis, but I bet I could come up with something. Who knows? Right now, though, college is about all I can handle, so I'll just let this blog be my outlet, despite its being nonfiction and therefore boring. Hehe, oh well.

The 80's, then The 90's, then...um...

Here's a random thought that came to me the other day. What on earth are we calling this current decade? I started thinking about this when I was listening to "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls on the radio, and I realized that it is 10 years old. Makes me feel old just thinking about it, hehe. Anyway, I realized that most of the music I like is 90's music...like the Goo Goo Dolls, or Counting Crows, or Collective Soul...etc. etc. And I only like a few artists from...um...well what on earth is this decade?

One time in a sermon, my college minister, Dusty, called it the "zeroes." Despite the obvious context, it still took me a couple of minutes to figure out what on earth he was talking about. Then there have been people who called it the "two thousands," but that is silly to me because you could be referring to the whole stinkin' millenium. Mix 100, my favorite radio station, uses a cop-out. They say that they play music from "the 80's, 90's and today." Hmmph. Cheaters.

So I don't know what to call it. Any ideas?

Classics???

Recently I have found myself explaining, over and over again it seems, my chosen field of study. I am a Classics major. And unlike engineers or journalism majors or philosophy majors or just about anybody else, I can't ever just blurt out my name and major (the college equivalent of name, rank, and serial number) and then just shut up. No. I have to explain that Classics is the study of classical societies--ancient Greece and Rome--with an emphasis on language, literature, and culture. It's a sort of highly specialized history degree. I really don't mind explaining that part, though. It's the inevitable next question that drives me crazy.

"So, uh, what exactly are you planning on doing with that?"

My answer to that question never seems to be satisfactory. This is why I am beginning to hate the name-and-major game. The honest truth is that I have no intention of doing anything at all with my degree, at least not in any sort of formal career. This is because I have no interest in a career. All I want in life is to get married, settle down, have kids, and be a stay-at-home mother and homemaker, probably homeschooling my children. I had a stay-at-home mom for the first eleven years of my life, so I know what a soothing thing it is to be able to just spend lots of time with Mom, both for the children and the mother. The kids have the peace of knowing she's always there when they need her, and the mom isn't stressed out trying to juggle a career with the darn housework. You end up with a clean and happy home. And for a homebody like me, a clean and happy home is absolutely essential.

This answer to the inevitable question, however, is not a popular one. I either get really weird looks, or I get people who feel sorry for me and try to convince me to open my mind to new possibilities. Poor girl, they think, she's been raised in such a backward and chauvinistic world, she needs to be set free! This is especially true with people in the Honors College. They get very worked up over people like me who "aren't living up to their potential." And sometimes it's even worse. One time when I was a freshman, I told someone about my ambitions (or lack thereof), and the person I was talking to rebuked me and said that if I did not intend to "contribute to society," I needed to stay away from college. He told me that using my scholarship to get a degree was "stealing from the state" and a waste of taxpayer dollars. This, of course, made me very upset, but as usual, I didn't think of any comebacks until the next day. Honestly...as if having children and bringing them up to be responsible and productive citizens is not a contribution to society! I've earned my scholarship, and I have the right to use it to be an educated person, whether I have a career later or not. It's just such a silly misconception--people operate under this idea that motherhood isn't worth anything to society as a whole, but it most certainly is! It's more important than any thesis or dissertation or scientific breakthrough. And the fact that people will look down their nose at someone like me, who values it and aspires toward it, is a sign that something is very, very wrong with our world.

I could go on much longer on that particular rant, but you get the idea.

So anyway, I hate talking about my major because it's just so stressful being a freak. I ought to be used to it by now, I suppose (after all, in high school I was definitely seen as NOT NORMAL), but it still annoys me. Sometimes in the past I've caved and ended up telling people Plan B, which is what I would do if I never got married. Plan B says I will go to grad school and get my masters and possibly a Ph.D, then teach at the college level. But I really have no intention of following Plan B (it would be real bummer if I had to), so answering the inevitable question with Plan B is really just a lie I'm telling, a little bone I'm throwing to people who don't want to hear that I'm "wasting my mind." And lying is against the rules!

So for those of you who thought I was immune to peer pressure, you're wrong.

All the same, though, I am still defying the world, robbing the state, and following good ol' Plan A. And keeping it real...

MullTrain

The Value of Rambling

I find this method of communication to be absolutely fascinating. It's not a diary, because it's meant to be open to anyone who wishes to read it...but, while public, it's not a conversation either. When I read a person's blog, I see it as a window into his mind, as I am allowed to witness the way he thinks when left to the uninterrupted ramblings of his own soul. It's quite interesting.

So here is a bit of rambling from my mind tonight. It started with an event that happened in my pharmacy yesterday. I work in a pharmacy that specializes in serving MHMR patients...so a good majority of our customers are mentally disturbed in one way or another. There are a lot of funny stories I get out of this, and I often joke with my friends about the "crazies" that I get to see every day. (In fact, just this weekend I was tickled pink by a shirt I found that said "PSYCH WARD" on it. It seemed perfect!...until my boyfriend was kind enough to point out that I really couldn't wear it to work ((a little too close to the truth)), and what use is a shirt that I can't wear?) But while I can sometimes laugh, I always do so with the knowledge that, when you get down to it, mental illness isn't funny. The best example of this came walking in yesterday. He was a middle aged man, probably about 40 or so, and when he came in he had tears running down his face. I just smiled as kindly as I could and started working on his prescription, but I overheard him talking with another customer as he waited. He was saying that he was upset with God:

"...I love Jesus, but see, that's why I'm mad at God. I just can't forgive him for turning his back on Jesus the way He did. I know how it feels because...because...my father turned his back on me!"

And here he broke down into sobs that would just break your heart. I almost started bawling right there in the pharmacy. Fortunately, the customer this man was talking to turned out to be a solid Christian guy, who patiently explained that Jesus chose his path and submitted to His death because he wanted to save us, not because He had no choice. He went on to talk about how Jesus' love was only half of the picture, and that God the Father suffered at least as much as Jesus did when He chose to pour out his wrath on His beloved and perfect Son, in order to spare sinners like us.

The conversation kept going in that vein, and while I couldn't listen to it all because I was working, I was comforted to know that Mr. Biggs (the Christian customer) was taking care of things in the best way possible. Still, I don't really think that our disturbed patient really understood what Mr. Biggs was saying to him. And this is where the really heartbreaking truth comes in. I know, from what I have seen day in and day out, that there are some people who are simply incapable of understanding the truth of Christianity. Like this man, they sometimes pick up on certain aspects of it, but they can't quite grasp the whole truth, so they end up with a skewed view. They're not choosing to ignore the truth, nor are they simply ignorant in a way that a little education would fix. They are mentally unable to understand. It kills me to think that there are people--like these--who have no chance of understanding the comfort of a living faith.

This is one of those things, right next to children who die in infancy, that non-Christians like to throw in my face and say, "Well if your God is so loving, how could He let such tragic things happen to the people He created?" And of course, my answer is not one that ever satisfies those non-believing types. All I say is, "God is the Creator, and He is the Authority, and we know from the way He has revealed His character to us that He is the essence of everything that is good. So, whatever happens, even when babies are aborted, and people are born with mental or physical problems, and tsunamis wipe out thousands of people in one day, I can trust that God is good, and whatever he decides is right, whether I understand it or not." This never satisfies those people because I am operating from the basic assumption that God is good, which I can't prove to them, I suppose. Still, what I don't tell them is that it's difficult for me, even while I'm trusting in God's goodness one hundred percent, to witness those exact same things. It seems just as senseless to me, really. I'm trusting that there's a method behind the madness, but it is still disturbing to me. I went home that day feeling a burden...I certainly wasn't laughing.

Keep it real y'all

MullTrain

First Blog Post

Well, here is my obligatory first blog post. Kind of like the obligatory "let's read the syllabus" first day of class. Boring, eh? But you have to start somewhere. So here you go. This is my blog! I don't know what I'm going to put in it yet, but it is now here, a blank slate, awaiting the various and sundry manifestations of my limited creativity.

So...here we go...

Keep it real...

MullTrain