The Myth of Stuffing the Resume (From The STEM Observer)

This week marked the debut of the STEM Observer, a gazette founded and run by those in the STEM magnet program at Dutch Fork High School. Mornin' Hays has his own column on the Observer, which is below. While more Mornin' Hays articles on the Observer will be shared here, you can check out the newspaper itself at this link, and if you like it and/or pity us, you can subscribe to it right here. This week's topic: needless resume-stuffing (which is a quite prevalent plague at Dutch Fork).

Last spring, I, like several of my peers, received a nomination for National Honors Society. I recall that it came in the form of a letter folded in thirds, completely identical to the dozens of others most of my classmates got, only unique in the fact that my full name (even going so far as to include my middle name) was neatly handwritten on one of the folds. It told me that I was part of a select group who qualified for such an honor, and that I definitely should pass by Room XYZ after school to get enrolled. Make no mistake, this was a noteworthy distinction I received from all of my hard work to get such outstanding grades (I presume my essays on self-defense against fresh fruit also helped my case). Nevertheless, I opted to ignore it, feeling a little deterred by the entry fee and the fact that I would miss induction due to opening night of Aida.

But they were not going to let me go that easily. After missing the first deadline, I received yet another letter during class that again urged me to come by. My teacher fully endorsed the notion, citing the fact that it would look good on a college resume and give me experience and (most important of all) the shiny thing I get to wear at graduation.  I decided to be fair and give NHS some consideration, but a thought eventually occurred to me: how much would this really help on my resume?

Now, granted, NHS is by no means a bad organization, and I can’t say what it’s like to actively participate in similar service clubs. I haven’t done Beta Club since sixth grade, and my Y-chromosome automatically disqualifies me from even thinking about being a Junior Civitan. Also, my grandmother insists that the NHS was a distinguished honor way back in her day, and to be fair, it probably was once one of the few organizations available to give such honor through nominations. And truly, if you really want or need to get service hours and gain experience, the NHS and its contemporaries are a pretty good route to take. Unfortunately, if you’re only looking to join it because you already are very accomplished and active and only want to stack your resume, you’re wasting your time.

The constant search for resume-fillers are all part of a widespread misconception that I think too many high school students are falling victim to. For lack of a more creative phrase, it is just plain redundant. Most people I know who join NHS are exactly what the letter says they are: they receive good--sometimes outstanding--grades, they’ve impressed teachers, and they likely have been active in numerous extracurriculars. Those are some pretty good qualities to show off to colleges in and of themselves (even though they’re probably already fit to be accepted). For that reason, there really is no extra good that joining a group for no reason other than to name ONE MORE CLUB that, apparently, will automatically guarantee your admission into any school of your choice. Think about what you are already doing and how busy you already are before you try and force another extracurricular in, and only join clubs if you think they are meaningful and if you can gain something from them.

While You Were Sleeping

There are twenty-three minutes left of July 22nd, 2014 as I begin to write this post. Never mind, twenty-two minutes. I sit in an overdecorated living room in the house we're staying in, with a single lamp fighting back the darkness. Long story short: it's nighttime, y'all. And pretty damn late at night, too.

I've always had a sort of undiagnosed syndrome of quirks and hitches that manage to distinguish me from others, but also provide a lot of difficulty. The fidgeting and pacing while others sit still. The construction of mountains of distress from emotional molehills. Inconsistent ability to communicate with others. And last but not least, the many nights spent in high function, which you can imagine is the reason I am straining myself putting this new post up so late at night.

Now, mind you, I understand that many other youth above and below my age also dapple in nocturnal life their own way, particularly when some sort of social activity is in the mix. Darkness truly does not exist in their nights, chased away by bright lights and loud conversation that break the silence of the evening. I could satirize the nature of teenage obsession with neon and strobe, as well as the remedial bass-driven noise that they feast upon, and how they are the bread and wine of their idiot's communion, and how fast the sense of judgment and brain cells deplete...

But I've never been a part of that crowd, and I ain't here tonight to try and make sense of that bullshit (believe me, I've tried before). I know that for me, the night is a time where every thought and every action crashes to my brain at once. My willpower demands that I rest, but my body continues its Asperger-esque fidgeting and my mind works at an extra-high rate to process the information overload it has obtained. Oftentimes, I feel like something I've deferred needs to be finished immediately, which is possibly just a miniature PTSD that comes only from heavy amounts of schoolwork. But right now, I cannot put to waste any thoughts that my brain processes at this late hour, so I am going to keep functioning and delve into my psyche for your viewing pleasure.

At this time, I normally think back to all the interactions I subjected my introverted ass to during the day. Were they good or bad? Did they deviate from normal patterns? What sort of dumb shit did I do this time?
This previous day seemed to be more minimal. For the second straight day, I slept through breakfast, and eventually became the only person left in the house as everyone else ventured out to do fun, stereotypical beach crap. I value those moments of isolation, where I don't have to waste any sort of energy on others and can find quiet to reflect, which is often why try to get moments like these while everyone else sleeps at night. During this time, an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years messaged me, and we spent a lot of time trying to catch up. It brought the past individual I was back to me in a swift wave, and I saw how different I have become. Of course, the rest of the crowd returned, so I was forced to be social once again [groans], and I spent a lot of time dealing with arbitrary issues in my head that I seem to have with people in general. Mission complete.

I think about Jesus. Kind of in the cheesy Christian way that you'll see most people claiming to embody. How He has carried me through these small issues I face, and how far He could take me into the future. I don't always make a clear chain of reasoning out of these individual thoughts, but at least I did something. The question that keeps recurring in my head whenever I bring those thoughts to the blog is "why do I kinda want to throw up every time other people try and talk about Jesus in the same corny way?" Appreciating other people's faith remains a struggle for me, even when I find others who are just as curmudgeonly as myself while retaining the same enthusiasm I am capable of expressing. Weird, I know, but I'll answer it some other time.

I think about the work I still have to do. Particularly the schoolwork. In other words, OH SHIT I'VE STILL GOT TO READ TWO BOOKS AND FINISH THAT PACKET ON THE CONSTITUTION OH LAWDHAVEMERCY.

Lastly, I think about the future. More specifically, I comically alternate between excitement and dread about what lies ahead. Holy hell, finishing high school/college/starting a new life! In times where I am exhausted by the present and feel that I am not fully in place, I don't really care about what lies ahead, just get me over, dear Lord. Maybe a greater degree of freedom sounds good to me. Maybe I crave isolation. No, scratch that, I definitely crave isolation. But I also fear the loose ends that I haven't tied up, whether it be dreams I want to accomplish and relationships with others that I feel are waning. This is where I start to get kinda adolescent-bitchy. This is where I try to make plans to execute, but there's no way in Hell that they could follow through. Lest we forget the occasional fear of getting a terminal illness or dream-ending injury that could screw things up for me (things which I feel very susceptible to given the poor diet and fitness doctrine I keep my body on).

But even as this shit keeps coming at me, the only thing I can do is keep going. Good Lord, I can't sit down, I can't rest, 'cuz I know I'm going somewhere. Freddie Mercury said it best: "Don't stop me now, cuz I'm having a good time." There's some spirit in me that makes me the crazy damn soul I am, and I gotta let it keep me moving. I've come to believe that what makes a human most fit for heaven is the resilience and maturity he or she obtains through trial and tribulation. Even though my brain is turned up to eleven and I'm trying to visualize the time around me, the only thing that can truly make those visions true are my eyes and ears.

Okay, I'm probably going to wake up this morning very late again, and I'm probably going to be unwilling to have breakfast again or do anything, so I should probably crash. It'll probably be at a more reasonable hour that you are reading this, so... hopefully I've said something noteworthy. Maybe I'll do something more notable on another post.

Extremely-gorram-early-in-the-Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Live From St. George!

Oh, dear, I'm far too exhausted for my own good. Pooped. Tired. Running on empty. Unpredictably cantankerous. Truly, this is a heavenly fatigue. If only there was a medium which I could express this exhaustion in front of a large crowd.

That's right! There is!

So, anyway, I'm pretty damn worn out from these past two months. Since school let out, I've traveled through or to 10 different US states and the District of Columbia, rode in countless different means of public transportation, and done waaaaaay too much walking in the heat. And that doesn't even begin to describe what I did when I wasn't moving (but don't worry, I'll get to that later). Oh, and there's the fact that I'm less than a month from beginning my final year of high school. But I'm finally still and calm, here and now.

As I write this, I am sitting on a porch overlooking Apalachicola Bay at night. The buildings on the other side of the water are illuminated, the air is crisp, and a chorus of crickets trying to get laid is chirping. This is a level of tranquility which is hard to obtain living in suburbo-rural South Carolina, and an atmosphere that allows me to think clearly. At least when I'm not thinking about the fact all these crickets out here are trying to get other crickets into their pants. Their... cricket-y... pants.

Anyway, moving on from the insect porn, I've got a lot to think about. First, we took Manhattan (I've always wanted to say that) looking for Jesus. Then I went to camp up at Clemson to get my brain flowing and make some music (which you can listen to at this link). Then I rode the train up to the City of Brotherly Love for mission and fellowship with 1000+ Episcopalians at EYE '14. That was all fine and dandy, but after being active for so long, it's time to decompress. I've always used this blog to get my thoughts free and flowing, and the environment around me is a great setting to forget the distractions that this world presents. (Author's note: before starting the previous sentence, I spent three minutes on an unsuccessful mission to capture a frog that ventured onto the porch).

Now, I've already mentioned looking for Jesus in New York, but, let's face it, spirituality has always been a pursuit of mine ever since I stopped complaining about my momma haulin' my ass to church every Sunday. This remains a pursuit here on this quaint little island off the Florida Panhandle. The most frequent sightings of the Lord's presence seem to be in whatever place is quiet; this is definitely a justified account, as I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't hear His voice out by these waters. High elevations, whether in the mountains or on the Empire State Building observation deck, also can get the spirit moving, particularly considering the idea of being a few literal feet closer to heaven. I could talk about those two locations in great extent, but so could a lot of other people. Therefore, I'll put the mountains and silence on the backburner and talk in brief about my new spiritual companion.

Flat Jesus.

He's a little laminated version of our savior that I got at EYE and now carry around (especially for downright glorious photo-ops like the one above). I first thought of It as a silly little knick-knack to carry around, but I've begun to think that he captures a bit of ministry that few ever think of. It manages to be completely irreverent as well as completely a living icon of the Lord. Now, to be clear, I mostly carry it around for irreverent use (see above photo), but I've found that a meager bit of irreverence is actually praise in disguise. Think about it: to have been present with humanity as an individual, Jesus humbled himself to a very far extent. We talk a lot about how fully divine He is, but the holy paradox exists in the fact that He was fully human as well. So, even while being present as a heavenly force and spirit, He also was just an average dude sneaking into our everyday lives.

Wait, say that last part again?

Sneaking into our every day lives.

Yeah, coming full circle now! Remember what I was saying about pursuing spirituality every day? Well, that's kinda what He did down on Earth, being a living vessel of God. So, He's just as much present in the crass humor involving Him as the fervent (and sometimes a little obnoxious) praise of Him. So maybe taking a picture of His goofy caricature at some tourist trap is a way that He sneaks into our lives when we least expect it. Oh, that little jokester.

In light of this, I suggest that everyone else chasing the Spirit need not overthink it. Even finding time to acknowledge Him with a hammy cutout is finding time to acknowledge Him. I suggest that looking at Christ with irreverent humor, while not always fit to use in excess, should also be considered a form of intentional worship and acknowledgement of the Lord. Hey, if you can focus on Him after implying cricket sex, there's plenty of time and ways to focus on the Spirit.

So, let's not strain ourselves searching for spirituality. To my brothers of other religions, I say that I believe in a universal over-soul that unites all who believe in some sort of spiritual being, and I think that anyone can feel this force. Even atheists whose beliefs lie in science (which I of course have a strong obsession with, as well) cannot deny the existence of a universal force that seems to power the function of all the universe's processes. We can each find ways to live a life in spirit, and we can be one in our individual lives.

That's just tonight's thoughts on the Spirit. There should be more to come on it in the near future, with utmost crass humor and irreverence. Here's to the heavenly rest yet to come, for me and all of us.

Blessed are the cheesemakers.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Zukunft? Unf!

Folks, I have a strange hobby I picked up a few weeks ago. I've been burning hours upon hours in my bedroom with an app on my phone called Duolingo, a foreign language instructor. I've been teaching myself German, which I guess is just part of my master plan to leave college and go live in the Rhineland, but everyone I know seems a little bit disturbed by the strange words coming out of my phone. I just can't be the normal guy.

Now, some of these phrases on Duolingo that I translate are rather peculiar or out of the blue. I've seen phrases in German with meanings such as "the vegetarian does not like me" or "I am playing with both the cups," which I guess has limited context... somewhere. One phrase I came across this morning however is especially prophetic to me.

"Wir haben eine Zukunft!"

Or, we have a future. Like yesterday's post, this really fits the current events of most of my peers, especially this year's graduating class. Holy shit, the past is gone, we have a future! There's so much we can do! No ceiling! There's... still shit to worry about.

Now, I have no right to say that I can be the voice of all the doubts that this year's graduates have, and I'm not going to pretend. But I've spoken about the future before, and I think I can voice general adolescent struggles. And I'm pretty damn certain that I can speak for myself.

We fear the future. It's full of problems we don't foresee and (GASP!) change! It's hard to break our routines we have now, and we aren't all prepared to make new ones in the future. These are all universal fears of the future, and they always seem to be a counterpart to a good thing we imagine in the future. Damn parasites.


Yeah, I could keep moaning about all this. But, frankly, I've already bitched enough about how much my future isn't going to be all rainbows and glitterfarts.

I'm convinced now that the real reason we panic so damn much about the future is that we still have unfinished business in the present before we can move on. Hard to believe, I know, since the present seems to be the popular kid that everyone likes among all the other verb tenses (I mean, he's just too perfect sometimes).  But isn't there something you feel like you can't move past?

(Rhetorical question time)

Have you not gotten opportunities to pursue your passions or do new things that stand out from the rest? Got something about yourself that you rather wish you could alter but can't commit yourself to it? Have friendships gone cold? Oh, and don't get me started on separation anxiety?

(End rhetorical question time)

Those are all present issues. And if something don't get finished in the present, it's an easy reflex to worry it ain't gonna get done in the future. It's a fear that hits us bluntly in large masses when we least expect it. It's something that fogs our minds too much to fathom solutions. Really, it just sucks major balls.

After witnessing graduation yesterday, my mind was clear for a while, but I got hit by these worries pretty hard when I was sitting alone in my castle of solidarity (a nonsensical phrase that means "my bedroom" in this context). So many people I ain't gonna be seeing as much in the future, regretting all the things I didn't do, worries about all the buried relationships I have, pressure about future tasks, all that jazz, I'll save you the complaining. I've always been apprehensive about my relationships with other human beings, and I think that won't change.

So, I guess I got to offer some solution. I find that it's impossible to prevent pangs of paranoia, but the best thing you can do is find a way to air your grievances and let them slide by a bit, but I'm no counselor. I do believe, however, that it is inherently stupid to regret something you didn't do. It's like assuming that you're driving your waiter into poverty after you realize that you forgot to leave a tip.

The best thing to do is trust that shit's gonna work out and just let time carry you on. Don't pressure yourself to take action unless you have a clear head and feel like you can advance yourself. And believe me, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, or whatever universal being is present to you, can make shit work out.

In the meantime, take a few words from that other Holy Trinity that is Geddy, Alex, and Neil, about flying through life.

In the words of the obscure phrases on Duolingo:

Auf eure Zukunft!

Morgen Hays, signing off.

The Fault in Our Metaphors

Now, I like to be relevant in my writing, of course, but I also try to avoid cliche topics like the plague. But, I seldom have a choice, so I often end up having to bring up what everyone else won't shut up about. Blogging is hard, waaa waaa waaa, you get the idea. Moving on.

So, it's the end of the school year for most of us adolescents. And, that means summertime and ALL THE FUN FINALLY. Today, particularly, is a significant day at my school because the Class of 2014 turned their tassels on their weird rectangular hats and finally got to kiss school goodbye and... you get the idea. I had the GPA privilege of serving as a Junior Marshal at this graduation, and I could talk all day about the pride I have for this Class of 2014, which includes many good friends of mine.

But first, I feel that it is important to take a quick look back at the past year that transpired, as every other student is doing right now. It's quite a bit to take in, and I, myself, can hardly absorb all the events that transpired since August of 2013. For most people, a lot of the struggles become visible, but the high moments (mountaintop experiences, if you'll recall from a previous post) are just as prominent. Ups and downs, that's really the summary of it all, almost like a...


Like a...


Sine function, of course.


Oh, I'm sorry, I forget that trying to remind people of schoolwork is a crime punishable by social exile. So, a rather preferred item of comparison is the roller coaster. I mean, that goes up and down, changes speeds a lot and can appear unstable. Hell, even in the ubiquitous teen romance story The Fault in Our Stars, male protagonist declares that despite cancer partially Lieutenant Dan-ing him, he is "on a roller coaster, that only goes up, my friend."

Unfortunately, what our favorite one-legged hunk fails to realize is that roller coasters that only go up aren't really that great. They're called "escalators," and you can find them in most shopping malls, although they aren't always that entertaining.

Truly, the overall idea of analogizing life with a roller coaster is a flawed concept. I concede that it does make sense in a very... abbreviated sense. Phases of life and roller coasters both have literal high and low points, and if done right, the end results are pretty satisfying. However, I (and most others, hopefully) have never personally experienced depression as a result of being at the bottom of a drop of a roller coaster. Nor have I thankfully gone up the next hill and expected to be at the apex for a long time, only to drop again.

Am I petty and over-analytic? Maybe. Yes, probably. But as a roller coaster enthusiast, I might take some offense at such flippant regards towards those hailed vehicles of thrill. Nevertheless, I believe that portraying time as a strict up-and-down experience is an archaic trope, and I believe that an alternative should be pursued. One that represents an actually random sequence of struggle and triumph.

I, for one, think that this past year has been like a constant search for wi-fi. Let's face it, we all are personally affected by connectivity issues. Haven't you had days ruined by discovering that you couldn't connect to the internet in your local coffee shop? (Hopefully not). Isn't it always a reflex for you to begin scoping out wi-fi when you settle in a new location?

Maybe this analogy is a bit of a stretch, but I believe it is something that teens do relate to. We have times when we feel connected and in the zone, and there are times when we just can't seem to get back in the hotspot. Sometimes it's best to disconnect, to stop forcing the issue, and to recuperate. Sometimes, we'll have others to bail us out in times of difficulty (in this metaphor, that's 4G or 3G), but we don't always accept that help in fear that it will bring us more trouble and entanglement (again: this is a very rough metaphor). But, in the end, it works out well, and you reap the benefits of your joyful connectivity through the tweets of life and the YouTube videos of triumph! Huzzah!

So, let's think about our past (and present and future) as not a strict up-and-down progression, but as an ongoing effort that takes in a variety of factors. When you're making your Instagram pic collage with all your besties, or your Instagram photo in which you feign indifference in the photo but get serious in the caption, thank your friends and family (who you should already be thanking because they took so many damn photos with you) for supporting you not through your "roller coaster" year, but your "dammit-the-wi-fi-is-not-working-oh-never-mind-it-is-back-again-now-it's-gone-shit-oh-well" year. (Feel free to shorten that title).

But really, who needs the past. The future is long and bright, and there's room for all of you in it. So, I give my best regards to the Class of 2014, and I wish the best for all of my colleagues who walk with me. Truly, I have a lot of sentimental thoughts, but I lack the words.

So long may you run.
Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Adolescent Distractive Harmony Disorder

There's a prevailing stereotype about teens like myself. Well, there's actually a lot of prevailing stereotypes about us, but most of them aren't necessary relevant to this discussion. Or appropriate for certain audiences (after all, as often as I use profanity on this blog, I still have a lot of politically correct viewers who would take offense at any further crudeness. Let me rephrase that: my mother is the self-appointed censor of this blog).

Anyway, prevailing stereotypes. There's one in particular that our elders reserve for us teens, which certainly has foundation:

We get distracted too damn much.

Oh, the youth of today. They just don't have an attention span. They keep shifting between 140 character "tweeters" and these strange 7 second videos. Don't count on them to start their homework anytime soon, 'cause they're just gonna spend all day texting each other about Justin Bieber and Jay-Z and their new shoes and their Playstation games.

Damn, adults sure do think we're stupid. We just can't do anything right 'cause we're too busy trying to absorb ourselves in other parts of the world. Well, to a certain extent... they're right.

Now, I'm not trying to dismiss the rest of my peers as lazy. I'll do that some other time. (Procrastination: another problem that plagues youth). What I am going to say is that the need for distractions is a big part of the adolescent's life, and there is a sort of balance we achieve with it.

I'll admit that there are a lot of problems that arise from these distractions. Distractions cause us to miss a lot of beautiful things in the world that we regret missing later on in life. I often regret that when I went to Europe, I spent too much time scouting out wi-fi locations and not enough time observing the fact that I was in freaking Europe. I suppose that a lot of these impulses of distraction are things that we can hardly help and are really more just bad habits (I mean, how many of you have to have at least four tabs open on Google Chrome in order to properly function?).

But I have come to believe that distractions can bring their benefits just as well. We, adolescents and every other person in the world, have to process a lot of information all at once, and we can't always handle it. The news, the variety of subjects in school, the web of relationships we spin around ourselves. Trying to handle it day to day is a herculean feat, and we need to provide ourselves with moments to breathe as we roll our stone up the hill.

Think about how we try to escape reality and regroup ourselves. I ask my peers: how many times have you gotten so frustrated with High School that you glanced at a possible college's website (for the 547th time) to imagine the future? How many times have you felt hurt by someone and started clinging to people on the opposite end of the spectrum? How many times have you gotten overstimulated at a big gathering of peers and forced yourself to try and find something else to focus on until you could leave?

I do that stuff day to day.

The adolescent's distraction, while it comes with baggage and shortens our ability to focus on the issues at hand, is an evolutionary skill that carries us into the next day. We can escape reality, possibly even reaching our "mountaintop" (I have another post all about that crap). It's really an amazing thing, and we should learn to value the times where we can pause time and focus less intensively on much smaller things. It allows us to go back into our own minds and organize our thoughts.

Before I go, I must emphasize that our distractions should be minimal and we shouldn't allow them to control us. We must learn to find time to see our lives as a whole when the present proves too much of a rush.

I a video where a UNC grad filmed one second of every day of her senior year for one big video. I'll be shamelessly ripping that idea off for the year to come, and I'll probably just continue it until I get tired of it. But I believe that it can be both a new distraction to focus on and a way to truly see that dull narrative of life as a whole.

I ask all of my peers reading this to ask themselves how they manage to distract themselves from the fast-moving world. What pushes you from the pressures of your life into the miniature reality of your distractions? More importantly, where does the line blur between seeing life as a whole and seeing only this miniature reality?

We'll just have to wait and see. I've got some really freaking short clips to film.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Don't Fear...

Before I begin, I have two brief notes:

1. I said I would do another post about Clemson after I got home. All you need to know is that it still impresses me, and it's safe to say it has the lead in the race. I won't eliminate USC, and I plan on backtracking a bit to look more into... the smaller Carolina. I might talk more about it in the future.
2. AP Exams are on everyone's mind tomorrow, and I'm starting first thing tomorrow with the AP Chemistry exam. I hate to cover a topic that everyone else is talking about, since I like going against the grain a bit, but I'll just leave with a brief pep talk for everyone else taking AP Chem tomorrow. Read on to see what it is.

So, anyway, I want to use this time to meditate a bit before I go to bed and get a lovely rest before the exam.

For starters, Lent has passed and I have since returned to Twitter, which is basically just as dumb as I remember it being. But I've gotten smarter, and I don't see it as much of a vice anymore. Now, it's really just another dumb teenage distraction that I have, just like all those of my peers. So, that's really not the focus of this discussion.

The issue at hand is something I have mentioned briefly before (maybe not explicitly in this blog, actually. I can't seem to remember). I want to talk about a fear that I have and a fear that I believe most adolescents have. Some days, I brush it off like it's nothing, acting the wise one. Other days, I'm dumb enough to let it consume me, but I'm just an everyday teenager, so there's nothing wrong with that, per se...

I fear incompletion.

A premature end to a task I hadn't felt ready to complete. Something I'd walk away from with regret. Time wasted, life wasted, pride wasted. (For those of you studying for the AP Language exam, that last sentence used epistrophe. Good luck).

There is the obvious interpretation of this statement: When I start something, like procrastinated homework, an ice cream cone, or a freaking blog post that I lost the train of thought on (CRAP ON A CRACKER DON'T REMIND ME), I prefer to complete it if I'm forced to walk away. But two semesters of monotonous English taught you guys that literal interpretations are always irrelevant, right? (You're getting tested on that soon, by the way).

I also fear not doing enough at home or at good ol' Dutch Fork High before going away to college. I fear that I haven't made the difference I want to make in my community or in my diocese.

I fear that as people spontaneously fade out of my life (AP Chem review tip: this means that they are increasing in entropy while releasing heat), that I will not do enough to impact them or appreciate their brief time with me. I also fear that when it's gone, baby, it's gone, and there will be no second chances once the people I know go their own ways.

This is something that really struck me close earlier this weekend. I was forced to drop a staff position on another youth retreat due to obligations with Aida. I thought nothing of it at first, especially since Aida has produced some timeless experiences and awesome people itself. But when it occurred to me that it would be my last ever retreat with a lot of the people about to graduate, I broke down. Wasted time, wasted memories. I was almost to the point where I needed a sudden day trip to God's Country (or, as the mapmakers would call it, Western North Carolina) to ease my mind.

Sometimes I think that I've set certain expectations for how I fit into the lives of these people, and all others for that matter, and I feel like I haven't done enough. I ask myself "If they're having such a damn great time without me, and if they can live without seeing me or talking to me, then can I really say I've made a difference?" (By now, I'm now specifically referring to just about every person I know, and not just the EDUSC guys, so I have no specific vendetta).

So, I do a lot of thinking, and whenever this concern comes up, it's immediately followed by the voice of reason chiming in and saying:

"Austin, you whiny shithead. Fix this your own damn self, I'm tired of you right now."

(By this point, I tell the voice of reason that I'm working on it, and that he should just piss off).

For a person who still finds himself often secluded and sometimes faces struggle even approaching the closest of friends, it's not always easy to take initiative. But I believe that before you try and screw things up over something you blame others for, you should try and fix whatever things you yourself are doing wrong. Even if you're actually doing everything right and in the best way you can, try and change yourself.

It's hard for me trying to manage connections with a lot of people, especially when I'm so fickle about who really will matter to me when all is said and done. But I want to be able to keep people close and try and make an impact, even if it means I'm wrong.

In life, I want to follow the patron saints of my church, St. Simon and St. Garfunkel Jude. Simon is the zealot, which means he really gets into shit. Jude, who many hospitals have named themselves after, is (this actually kind of depressing when you consider said hospitals) the patron saint of lost causes. In other words, even if it ain't a worthwhile cause, freakin' go for it. Repercussions are irrelevant.

So what if everyone I know forgets about me? I still am going to try to make a difference in others' lives and push myself harder to do so, even if I (*GASP* God forbid!) don't get to be in a bunch of group chats or Instagram shoutouts. GROUP CHATS AND INSTAGRAM SHOUTOUTS: OBVIOUSLY THE PINNACLE OF TEENAGE FRIENDSHIP. PLEASE TELL ME MORE.

(Sorry, I got a little carried away there).

I can't make a blanket statement for everyone I know here, but if you're reading this, know that you kick ass. And AP Chem kids, here's that pep talk.

"Don't fear the liter."

And don't fear a lack of impact either. Kick some ass on those tests, everyone.

Mornin' Hays, signing ever-so-gracefully off.

Easier Than It Looks?

Tonight's post is a unique post. I'm not typing this one in my cozy Irmo tonight. This one comes from my third-floor room at the Sleep Inn in Clemson. A hotel whose only other occupants appear to be some women's team from UCLA (softball, maybe?) staying for a match, and a room which I didn't even think would have wi-fi when I first arrived. So, being able to have The Rug--my laptop--open and connected to get a new post up before bed is like a little surprise. Well, isn't that nice?

So, anyway. I'm in Clemson. After taking a tour of USC on Monday, there were a lot of questions that needed to be answered if Clemson wanted to be close in the race again. I had already been to Clemson twice in 2013: I went up to see the Tar Heels play them in men's basketball (The Heels won by a moderate margin, and I was probably the loudest Carolina Blue-clad spectator in Littlejohn), and I took an official campus tour in the summer. So, I knew what the campus looked like and I'd seen all the pretty buildings and fields and water and whatnot. Today, I focused more on getting the information I needed to compare it to what South Carolina has to offer for research and job opportunities. And I'll be damned if I didn't get some answers.

The morning session started with a campus expo, with a bunch of booths set up in a ballroom to showcase all of the key services the school had to offer. There were representatives from the different colleges within Clemson (Engineering, Agriculture, Arts, etc.), some folks from the Honors College (named after the crazy secessionist John C. Calhoun, no less), and some general services like housing, dining, and recreation. Also, there was a poor old man who had to sit alone at the LGBT services booth, which you would not expect many people looking at school in backwoods SC to even glance at. I pity that poor old man representing a good cause (in my mind, at least. I can debate it later). So, if you're a bit on the left end of the political spectrum like myself, you might want to think twice before coming to Clemson (I mean, this school even has its own its own equivalent of Fox News).

I won't waste time with all the minor details. Some of you probably won't understand terminology. But I found that almost all of the key things that made USC stand out--research and internship opportunities, Honors College, studying abroad, and the like--were matched (and possibly even exceeded, sometimes) by Clemson. In that respect, the "recruitment race" should be considered a dead heat. I suppose I did jokingly say to myself "I'm sold!" when I saw the following course description of the first-year engineering requirements at a presentation:

ENGR 1020- Stuff 99.99999999% of the population can't do

CH 1010- Alchemy for the rest of us

ENGL 1030- (we know your ACT/SAT reading scores)

MTHS 1060- Really hard math

ENGR 1410- Magic and Sorcery or CHE 1300- Plumbing for dummies

MTHS 1080- Really, really hard math

PHYS 1220- Stuff Einstein couldn't do

(In case you were wondering, they did show the actual class descriptions after having this bit of amusement)

But there is one thing that might end up being the selling point for me if I end up at this school (and frankly, it might have just given Clemson the lead). Freakin' hospitality.

Now, before I go on, I want to go on record to say that I think that the concept of "Southern Hospitality" should only exist if used to create a warm and fuzzy sweet tea commercial. Hospitality is no more real in the south than in any other part of the country, and frankly, a lot of Southern people are assholes. But this is not the hospitality I am claiming that Clemson has.

As I said before, the opportunities for research and a damn good education are really about the same between Clemson and USC. But what sets Clemson apart from its garnet counterpart (at least, from what I've seen) is that Clemson goes more out of its way to make sure that its students get these opportunities and succeed. When I toured USC, I heard a lot about the research there and how I could always find an opportunity myself, but it seemed as though most of that finding had to be done on the student's part. Clemson, essentially, dumps everything in its students laps, and they would be damn fools not to follow those opportunities. That's not even mentioning all the other conveniences that Clemson has that USC doesn't: a great shuttle service that caters to its students, an on-campus Episcopal church for me to find community in (more on that later), and so much more, really. The guy in charge of recruitment for engineering even said directly to the audience that he wanted most for everyone to find the school they are comfortable with, even if it is elsewhere. And he meant it. That took some freakin' heart.

This is what is really selling me on Tigertown right now. Every person there seemed devoted to getting the best for everyone visiting. Now, I believe it's still possible that USC has similar efforts, and I welcome any Gamecocks to enlighten me about said efforts. But something just feels right about Clemson right now. Maybe it's just a sense, but even if I'm wrong about it, my next option is a damn fine school to go to just as well.

During the day, there were many times where I felt close to home. I saw a few old friends from Happening across campus, each one of them unexpected but very pleasing to see. I walked down the shops on College Street and ate at a few local restaurants (note on College Street: has a great vibe to it, kinda like Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, but I don't worry about my safety there like I do in Columbia's Five Points). In the evening, I took in Maundy Thursday service at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church (seeing a few more folks I knew in the process), and immediately after service, I was immediately invited to come as a guest to their youth gathering. I didn't stay for long, but I did get to participate in a bit of egg-dyeing while talking all about my past youth experiences with a bunch of new people. I got a little carried away, and as a way of saying goodbye, I painted this little sucker and left him with the other youth.

Ah, but it's still too early to commit.

More on the rest of the Clemson visit tomorrow evening.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Looking Along the Via Media

Let's regain focus. Let's stop crying. Let's take a look at all the greenery growing along the road of life here. Let's admire anaphora for the preeminent syntactical device it has become.

I decided that tonight's post should focus on some less sentimental things and lead a new direction for writing on this here blog.  For some inspiration, I went over to the works of a friend of mine who has frequently blogged her travels afar. Her newest series  chronicles her journey throughout the Northeastern US, which I myself have only seen portions of (although I will be going to NYC and Philly in the summer, but more on that later).

So, there are two things about Kathryn's blog that I want to (appreciatively) rip off in the future. First of course is the commentary on locations, from the minuscule elevators in the big cities (try fitting five people in a lift at St. Ermin's Hotel in London) to the appearances of mathematical constants (she seeks out pi in all its glory, while I'm more of a tau guy myself. No, I am not a frat). That's a much more creative means of getting out opinions and observations on life than just.... I dunno, thinking really really hard?

The second thing which I want to focus on for the future AND today's post is-wait for it-the colleges. My nerdy colleague has her eyes set on much higher, out-of-state institutions (I mean, why do you think she's going Northeast), while I already mentioned in "Faith in Blue and White" that I'll have to betray my Heels and go stay in-state.

I like to ask myself why exactly I want to stay in-state when I have fallen so utterly in love with the rest of the world. After spending two weeks in Europe last winter, I have now been in six foreign countries (assuming you count the accidental turn my family took into Austria and the 20 minutes it took to get back in the right direction) and 16 US States (soon to be 17, as I'm going to Louisiana in December). It seems like I shouldn't be confined here to SC, the US state most known for not wanting to be a US state, but I admit that this Carolina has grown on me just as much as the Carolina I was born in. I can't see myself leaving quite yet, but there will be many opportunities beyond that. Oh, and the fact that these schools will give me more money. Money that could be used to teach me how to use less run-on sentences. Moving on.

Yesterday evening I was given the "jaded student" tour of the University of South Carolina. Even though the school was practically in my backyard, I never really took the opportunity in the past to truly look into it. I guess the past me wanted to at least get out of Columbia. The tour was given by a quartet of students from Engineering Without Borders at USC (an acronym which, here, doesn't refer to California), who worked with my mom to mentor the robotics team at Oak Pointe Elementary. Saw all the stuff we hoped to see: the Honors Residence Halls (blew me away), the engineering building (one of our guides mentioned how the sidewalk out front manages to cause some flooding. Great job, engineers!), and all the pretty antebellum buildings all along the way. Those antebellum buildings really make you feel like a Confederate.

As an aspiring Chemical Engineer and Honors College student (no matter what school I settle in), I wanted to know straightforward about what research and internship opportunities I could get at this school, and how beneficial the curriculum would be. I got good, sufficient answers, and I can say for certain that this school would be right for me if I decide to go here. The Honors College at SC is very renowned, of course, and this tour did even more to impress me.

After the group ate at an Arabic restaurant I hadn't been to in years (man, I missed the Damascus bread and hummus), I had to get to thinking. This was an awesome campus, but I can't forget how much I enjoyed touring Clemson back in the summer, especially since I'm going up there Thursday and Friday. One advantage that this jaded student tour at USC did have was that it was given by honors college engineers who know exactly what I need and interacted with me personally, as opposed to an overexcited sorority girl preaching about how OH MY GOSH CLEMSON IS SO... SO GREAT to a big group. There are a lot of other small factors that will go into all this, and it will take a lot of time to come to a conclusion.

But I'm enjoying every single minute of it. I don't have to worry about getting into either school, and frankly, I probably don't have to stress that much about getting into their honors colleges either. I feel like these schools want me more than I want them. I'm like a 5-star football prospect being fought over, only... more academic. I'm not letting that last part go to my head, but I'm going to enjoy every single damn minute of the decision process, and either way, I can't make a wrong decision.

Staying in-state won't constrain me because I will always find ways to travel. There's the glorified idea of the road trip that all college kids take, and there are the bounteous opportunities to study abroad that I will find. This is going to be tons of fun, and I'll have a bunch of stories to tell.

So, is there a favorite right now? Is it USC?

Nah. I ain't revealing a thing until I enroll.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Down The Mountain (Life Back in the Valley)

Mountaintop experiences. Times where everything seems to be going right and you're standing above the rest of the world. Something you just can't replicate. Bliss. Some of you might know exactly what I'm talking about here, and you should agree that coming down from a mountaintop experience sucks. It really sucks. I know because I posted about it a few weeks ago.

For those of you who lack attention spans or have issues with my usage of curse words in bold print, here's what I essentially had to say in the past: when everything is going right somewhere, but then you have to go home, you start doubting whether you can have that same happiness you had again. I talked about how much I feared all of my friends disappearing due to graduation, distance, or just a gradual falling by the wayside due to lack of interest. I had no answer to the issues I presented other than repeated profanity and one rather unhelpful statement.

"Just don't think about it."

I mean, hey, that ain't bad, right? Ignorance is bliss? Don't worry, be happy? #turnup?

Well, you are going to have to think about it at some point, and achieving ignorance is not always an easy thing to do. So, let's get some freaking answers today.

Back in the last entry on this topic, I talked about Happening, an Episcopal youth retreat designed to be a mountaintop experience to its guests. Having first gone as a guest last year and serving on staff at the next two Happenings (and hopefully at least one or two more, pending my application and the call from the rector... Claire, if you're reading this, no pressure). Anyone else who had been to Happening would get where I'm coming from, but that doesn't necessarily amount to a large number of people. This time around, I want to talk about another mountaintop that I just had to climb down this week.

A more relatable and easier-to-describe mountaintop would be in the realm of theater (or, "theatre" for the snobbier more refined person, but it's the same anyway). When you're doing a kickass play for a long time with such an awesome cast, you immediately begin to suffer withdrawals (and not "withdraws," as my peers seem more inclined to say. Please stop saying "withdraws," guys). Even those in the filthy plebeian non-acting crowd should be able to relate to this phenomenon.

I was just in one of these shows, of course, and it's pretty clear that the majority of the cast is feeling the pain of separation right now. Aida. An old Verdi opera that Elton John and Tim Rice adapted for Broadway, and that School District 5 managed to land the rights to. Man, that was a ton of fun. Everyone got into it, emotions ran high, and the crowd loved every minute of every show. There's so much I could say about it, and I'll be damned if I don't talk about it again in the future.

Now its over, and as the Edmodo group stays alive and very active, a lot of folks still haven't adapted to the change. (Side note: For those of you who aren't familiar with Edmodo, it has been championed by teachers as "Facebook for schools," obviously because they think that teens need a new gathering place after old folks like them started bogarting Facebook. Probably). No one wanted it to end.

So, how do we live in the valley after coming down from the mountain? Well, there will always be chances to reunite with people who shared the mountaintop experience. You can't see them all the time like the past, but if they had an impact, then they should remain in your heart. Focus on how your experience has shaped you as a person, and use your experiences to continue a better life. It's trite as hell to say, but all good things must come to an end. And I've found that good experiences are hard to leave at first, but once you're traveling down the highway, you don't need to look back. No fright or hindsight, leaving behind that empty feeling inside.

If you long for the past and have doubts about the future, "just don't think about it" is not a useful directive. At some point, worrying will cease, but you don't have to erase the memory from your mind. I've found that mountaintop experiences return to me in fulfilling flashbacks (and, believe me, I've been on a lot of mountaintops in the recent past). Even if you don't stay in contact with your friends from the mountain 24/7, there can still be other ways to be have a satisfied mind.

To close out, just remember to keep doing what makes you happy. And in remembering the people on the mountain, recall the "spirit is always burning though the flesh is torn apart." This may not have been the most thorough response, but it's what I got for now.

Mornin' Hays, signing off. Aida lives on.

Upon Further Inspection...

I've said it before that Sundays can be technically seen as off-days during Lent, although not everyone chooses to use them as such. On this fourth sunday of Lent (halfway, there guys), I decided to cave into an impulse, and checked Twitter for a brief amount of time. I can't say what got into me, but it gave me a necessary spurt to use for a topic of discourse (which I've been at a loss for since Happening). Moving right along, let us get this show on the road (and, yes, I know it is past 10 PM, and, yes, my AP Chem homework can wait right now, thank you very much).

So, what did I see? That seems to be the question at hand for this post, does it not? I suppose the best thing to say would be... nothing out of the ordinary. Tweets of the generic variety, sports tweets (on that same note, how did the Lady Gamecocks play, eh?), Walking Dead live-tweets, attempts to be creative (I'll avoid talking about whether said attempts succeeded at a noticeable rate). It was like clockwork. Angsty, awkward, whiny, clockwork. Like, seriously, think back to the High School days of Cogsworth from Beauty and the Beast.

I guess it should be noted that my first instinct was to immediately notice the things that kinda made me want to barf once I opened twitter on my PC (I had deleted the app off of my phone and iPad, and I wasn't about to reinstall them for one day). Mostly the bitching. Y'know, like uuuugggggh math is trying to kill me and dang, I hate how I'm not noticed enough. People dwelling on little issues like this, expanding them into the little sonnets of angst we call tweets. I hope I don't have to describe this any further than I already have.

So, other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the show?

Alright, so, I rediscovered the headache Twitter had been giving me for years (which is what you get when there are hundreds of voices talking all at once on a little screen like that). Frankly, I didn't find anything that would make me want to come back to the grind. I'd be leaving all the calm I've found within myself, I'd waste far more time, and I'd get really freaking frustrated from time to time. In other words, life without Twitter is far more satisfying than life with it.

I could devote this entire post to the idea that twitter is a cesspool of human garbage and vice. I could try and play the "holier-than-thou" card and try to champion myself as the one who saw the light and will make things right. I could be working on this damn AP Chem homework that I knew would cause me trouble (oh, sorry, off topic again).

Instead of sinking down to the bitchy-whiny echelon, I'm going to do something that your grumbling AP teachers have pressed you to do since you were assigned your first psychological free-response document-based argumentative manifesto: ANALYZE.

How did leaving Twitter affect personal relationships? I knew from the start who actually mattered and who didn't, and I was able to confirm my suspicions.

What good stuff did I miss out on? Funny stuff from comedians, a lot of @midnight Hashtag Wars, opportunities for puns, probably some delightful exchanges between my peers.

Could I go back? Well, I think the days I've had off really have allowed me to learn, and returning to Twitter won't kill that vibe off. But quitting Twitter for me was like quitting smoking. It was getting rid of something that could not have fulfilled me completely, and why would I want to go back?

On the other hand, leaving Twitter kind of reminds me of the fear I shared in the last post (which was way too damn long ago). I'd be walking away from my past, the good and the bad, and trying to refresh and find new ways to communicate. Almost, like, going to college, or somethin'. There certainly are a bit of ramifications to just walking out.

I have had impulses to just let my account rot away and not return to it, even when Lent ends in a few more weeks. I seriously will consider this more in-depth for the time being, and I'll have a conclusion at some point. But one thing is for sure: I've still got a few more days to learn and breathe in the air. I've got a great show coming up, I've got schoolwork to be engaged in (can you not just feel the excitement in this one), Lord knows what I could do for my mostly vacant Spring Break.

Forget this whole post, anyway. I've seen what I've left behind, and I need to get back on program. My thoughts were long since due to be shared again, so I wasted some precious time to get this text onto the screen. Hopefully I can be a little less angsty in the future.

So, I'll say goodbye again to the Twitterverse I walked away from, and get back to my program. So long to the pleasures, but mostly, so long the grievances.

You're the reason I'm a-travelin' on.

Don't think twice, it's alright.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

So, What's Next? (From The Notepad, Vol. I)

Hell, yeah, I'm back! That sure was a long time without hearing my voice, wasn't it, faithful readers? Nevertheless, I am not short of thoughts for tonight's post. It might be hard to get me to shut up this evening.

So, this weekend I was at Happening #71 at Camp Gravatt (or, Gravatt Conference Center, but it's the same thing in the end). Happening is a "mountaintop experience" weekend for high school youth (particularly of the Episcopal denomination, but we welcome all). I got to be on music staff, rockin', rollin', praisin' the Lord and whatnot. That was fun and refreshing, indeed, and the other guests at the event surely would agree.

It was also nice to turn off my phone for the duration of the event from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon, as I got more time to concentrate on the beautiful facilities around me and to do some writing. Or, by writing I mean that I grabbed an old memo pad and started jotting down non sequitur thoughts in as small handwriting as possible. I concluded that this form of short, impulsive-thought based writing to myself was just a surrogate for Twitter (which I have now gone without for almost two weeks). Yeah, it was kinda weird, all my friends who gave me curious glances as I jotted away on the memo pad will be pleased to know that I planned on adapting most of those thoughts into blog posts. And I am doing that now.

So, as a lot of you who have read previous posts might recall, a big motif for my Lenten venture is relationships with other human beings. Yeah, I know, it's hard to believe that other people exist. This is especially true at events like Happening, which throws you into a crowd of complete strangers that become close friends through your mutual experience. An experience that few others can understand. But I digress.

People who go through Happening almost always face concerns about leaving the "mountaintop" and life not being quite the same back at home. After all, home doesn't always have Gravatt Squares. But there is a real concern about leaving the close friends that guests have formed within a matter of days, who they open up to and feel such a strong, unspoken bond.

As much as I would hate to bring up something so negative about an event that has changed the lives of thousands of youth for decades, including myself, this is a topic that intrigues me. People we know, coming and going, even as we hope to know them forever. Last night's How I Met Your Mother also addressed this topic (a show that I have dearly loved and will be very sad to see conclude in two weeks. Again, this is a motif that intrigues me). It all kind of makes ya think, don't it? More specifically, it makes you think this:

I might not see any of these people I know again. HOLY SHIT WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?

It really is a hard thought, and I've been holding it in my mind for quite a while. This is mostly due to the large quantity of close comrades I have who are seniors, and I will have to cope with their increasing absence from my life. However, it also becomes very real and, frankly, quite frightening when I consider that I'm about a year and a half away from having to start again myself. Even more folks will fade away from my life, going in completely different directions that I can't stray from my current path to follow.

I want to be able to say that I have an answer to this fear. I have been able to come out of other blog posts with answers, but I cannot give a resolution to this one. This is something that I cannot change, this is something the people I know cannot change, and this is something that you cannot change in your own life. And it ruttin' hurts to think about it.

It sucks hard because you want to try and do as much as you can for others when you realize that you have such a limited amount of time with the people around you before they vanish from your life, but you can't seem to make time or effort, or even your best feels unsatisfactory.

There are sudden pangs you have where you begin feeling this early, as if everyone is already gone. It's just an impulse, typically fueled by rage caused by, say... frustratingly attempting to complete unfinished work in the wee hours of the morning, but you can't help but remember it.

It attacks in so many ways. There's no sole point of entry of these feelings into your mind. And I want to say "seize the moment you have now," but, again, how can you do that when you barely find yourself able to reach out to others in your own hectic life (and to an extent, your self-absorption). You even begin to question whether you truly matter to these other people who you consider friends-on-a-timer.

Holy. Shit.

So, as you can see, my brain works in a funny way while jotting down on a notepad. It can actually be quite cynical. I am not the only person who has had paranoia like this, and I expect that a few people who read this will sympathize. I won't try and answer these concerns, but I will express some optimism. I mean, I've gotten to talk to a few people I hadn't in a long time, and I think shit is actually going pretty well for me at home, as a whole. And, I have to admit, even as superficial and vice-forming as they may seem, social media has lessened that burden, albeit by a small amount. And, if nothing else, we can always hope to find new people as the old ones fade away.

I guess there is only one answer I have now:

Don't even think about it.

It's mostly angst anyway, right?

Mornin' Hays, signing off. Especially because Mornin' Hays has to start signing onto doing some deferred Pre-calculus homework.

No Bitching Day

There's a Lutheran church in Colorado that came up with an idea for something to do each day of Lent. I loosely follow these guidelines, but there's one on day eight (which isn't until Thursday, but I'll be out that day), that suggests "No Bitching Day." I rather like this idea.

Of course, we know that they could just be saying "no actions involving female dogs day," but let's just go by the colloquial definition we all have for the word. Wouldn't it be nice if there could just be a day where folks stopped complaining and appreciated life a bit more? And made life a little more pleasant for those around them? Yeah, you know exactly what I'm talking about. So, as an early way to celebrate "No Bitching Day" in Lent, I'm going to play the guru to help you find peace about stuff that pisses you off, and maybe help you bitch a bit less. Guru Qui Cho Bichen is here to answer your spiritual questions (although, if you don't respect this post and try to defile Guru Bichen, you might have to hear from his friend, Dr. Gofa Q. Selff).

Also, I would like to point out that I'm a sinner and I have issued several of these complaints from time to time, and I still might in the future. But for the times where bitching is totally unnecessary, here is my counseling, not to serve as cures, but as alternative ways of thinking.

Why do they expect us to wake up so early in the morning for school?!!!

Go to bed earlier. Or don't put off work until midnight. But we both know that likely isn't going to change anytime soon.

They aren't teaching us ANYTHING! I CAN'T LEARN!

Ask for help. Most teachers are reasonable enough to explain things you don't understand, and in the rare cases where they aren't, there's bound to be a peer of yours who is and is willing to assist. If this is hard for you, then you'll eventually learn in this post that the key to a better, less bitchier life is swallowing your pride.

My schedule is too crammed and I have no free time! Ugh!

Well, if this is was not in your control, then go ahead and complain, but be a little quieter about it. Otherwise, I'm going to preach this issue as if it was something you knew would happen and you find that complaining helps you survive the constant action. I find that this is often the case, as most of us plan out busy schedules for ourselves in the first place, whether knowingly or not. This is because that the nature of the present day adolescent requires a constant flow of activity, and we tend to regard any time not spent out of the house or doing something as time wasted. My advice, then, would be to appreciate the time that you are spending and instead of dreading it in the moments leading up to it, use your remaining time to get some last-minute stuff done you couldn't otherwise. On the flipside, there's always something to do if you find that there is a gap in your itinerary. Use the time to rest or reflect, and don't worry about not being busy with something else, because, hey, those moments come pretty rarely, as it turns out.

My friends never talk to me! Am I a loser? Are they just cruel?

....nooot really. This is more of an impulsive phase. Thinking back to the times where we aren't already focused on something and have difficulty in dealing with it, it is also really easy to think that the moments that aren't spent in rapidfire texting/Snapchatting/carrier pigeon-messaging are times where our friends don't appreciate us. For some, it's easy at this point to immediately descend into hopelessness, thinking that our relationship with them was all superficial every time they post a pic on Insta with (gasp!) a different friend. It's during these times of anger that the truth is that we have specific people in mind we want to talk to, but heaven forbid those no-good fake friends turn down a chance to talk. This often results in a lot of whiny Tweets about being alone out of an inability to speak directly, which is an internet vice I am glad I do not have to see for a while. Your best bet, at this point, is to do the unthinkable and TALK TO THEM. That's something Captain Introversion here has always had issues with, but dammit, if I can make improvements, so can you.

Corollary to above entry: I have a feeling that I'm ranked, like, 23rd on Jonny and Jenny's list of friends.

For starters, 23 ain't a bad number. Just ask Michael Jordan. This issue is one that occurs when people think that their friends aren't giving them the attention that all their other buddies are getting. And Francesca? Seriously, you hang out with FRANCESCA and not me? Oh, it is on, douchebag.

Basically, we feel like we aren't close enough with the people that matter to us. This notion is especially popular with the concept of the "friendzone," wherein many a youth has felt like their attractive colleague of the opposite sex has denied them any appreciation in return for the current friendship. There are questions you must ask if you feel like you aren't fully being appreciated by your companion: "Is this impulse?" and "Can I find a way to make a best out of the situation?" This means that you need to first verify that this isn't the spontaneous empty feeling of not having anything to do. I believe I made that clear, and for a lot of people, this renders step 2 unnecessary. But should it come to step 2, just consider the rewards you've reaped from the relationships you currently foster. You can't expect everything from everyone, and you have to yield some time for them to live their own lives. Hell, use this time to try and talk with others who you may not interact with as much as you should. You'll make time with the other guys, and it will be all right. Also, in the case of the "friendzone," I'm going to sum up a few words from a Cracked article I can't get the link to: "The real friendzone is the trying-not-to-ruin-the-friendshipzone." Be a freaking friend, or burn that bridge.


That's just a few things I got to say. Maybe it will serve as good insight for myself even, when I'm having a shitty day and feel inclined to bring up one of this bitching points.

These are just my personal beliefs, but maybe if you utilize them, you could lower down on complaining on social media through indirect accusations at your peers or a flow of sad Johnny Cash lyrics (especially considering that unless you have had your chest clawed down to your waist by an ostrich, you do not have it as bad as Johnny Cash did).

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

A Bit of Rest

Sundays aren't counted in the 40 Days of Lent. Days of rest essentially. Technically, you are even allowed to briefly return to whatever you gave up. For tonight, though, I'm just going to provoke a fewer less thoughts than normal and just recap a bit.

• Yesterday, I posted an article about UNC basketball and faith. The results of last night's game should be used as further evidence that faith endures a lot of shit. And that was a lot of shit in Cameron last night. I don't want to talk about it anymore.
• Twitterless life is still going well. I'm still more productive as a worker (got a catapult built today, no big deal) and I've had much more time to budget and concentrate. And blog! But I'm just stating what I already have said, and I imagine I'll have much more to say about that all once Easter comes.
• Thursday night through Sunday evening, I'll be at Camp Gravatt serving on Music Team for Happening #71. This is a retreat for high-schoolers that awakened the spirit in countless youth (including yours truly, back at Happening #69 last March), and God willing, will touch much more. Being on music team is something that excites me because, hey, a weekend of playing guitar and singing? That'll be fun. This also means that I likely will not be able to post to this blog during those days, but I'll sure have a lot to say when I return!
• In secular news, I finally got around to starting Divergent. So far, not so good, but we'll see.

Nothing clever to say for tonight. I might have had a bit more to say if I wasn't spending the last hour watching a recording of The Amazing Race (the only reality TV show I find entertainment in, in spite of its gimmickry, annoying contestants, and disgusting product placement). Peace.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Faith in Blue and White

In the Episcopal Church, we're pretty big into creeds. We say the Nicene Creed following the sermon on Sundays. We state the Apostle's Creed as babies are baptized and young adults are confirmed into the Church. These all, of course, serve the purpose of being a spoken affirmation of our faith, a way for us to keep saying "Hey, we're pretty solid on God and that Jesus was his son. And that ain't changing anytime soon." As you say these more and more, they grow more a part of you, and you barely even have to read the bulletin to say them again every Sunday. You know them by heart.

Now, since I've been Episcopal since the cradle, and since my mother's side of the family also has Anglican roots, it's pretty clear that these creeds would be often spoken by me in church (and, when shit's really going down, in public). But before I was smart or old enough to understand the words of this creed, my parents raised me to know one other creed by heart. A creed of to affirm my love and reverence for my place of birth, and the heart and soul of that land. A creed to hail the brightest star of all, clear its radiance shine. It reads as follows:

I'm a Tar Heel born

I'm a Tar Heel bred,

And when I die, I'm a Tar Heel dead

So it's rah rah, Car'lina-lina

Rah rah, Car'lina-lina

Rah rah, Car'lina-lina

GO TO HELL DUKE

I write about this primarily because I'm going to need to reaffirm this creed multiple times this evening in tonight's basketball game(s) against Duke (both Men's and Women's. Go figure). Those who know me personally should know also of my passion for UNC athletics. Although I never watched sports themselves for most of my youth, the damage was already done by the time I watched my first game. When kids in school talked about how cool Michael Jordan was, I trumped them all by pointing out that he played for my team. When I wasn't even four years old, I once pointed to a Duke logo and exclaimed "They suck!" with pride. To a preacher.

Now, I would be remiss if I didn't point out the fact that I still put all of my pride in NC even though I have lived in South Carolina for almost nine years. A land where "Carolina" is associated with red and black, which I can only condone in the similar manner that the rest of the world must put up with the United States' failure to convert to the metric system. A land where I was expected to be silent because the Heels' football program was put down by both the Gamecocks and Tigers in recent years. (Side note: I won't be ignorant of the recent history on the gridiron, but I also think that fans of Palmetto State schools should take a look at the recent matchups on the hardwood, men's and women's. Or the diamond. Or, the soccer pitch, too, for that matter. We'll call it even). Not to mention the fact that I will inevitably end up studying in-state because of the lack of Engineering at Chapel Hill (and the undeniable reality that I would get more money to study in-state).

By this point in the post, I could just stop and let this be an empty sports column, since guys at ESPN get paid for writing way more opinionated, less entertaining content. But, I don't want people to think that I'm just another guy who spends his time profaning the television every time JP Tokoto misses a free throw (although I might actually be that guy tonight if the boys ain't playing like they should be). I can't be ignorant of the Lenten themes I've been pursuing these past few days, now, can I?

I think back to the days where I felt separated from the rest of my peers. I was isolated and I didn't really have much I felt I could take pride in as a person. It was a matter of fill in the blank: "I am the only person in Dutch Fork Middle School who ____________, and that sucks." In a way, cheering for the Heels was something that both made me feel like I had something unique that no one else did, and gave me something to follow. To believe in.

Of course, there is a word for when you put faith in something else before God: idolatry. But I am in no way implying that I thought Roy Williams' squad was greater than God, although religion was still a struggle for me at the time. But I do think that this sort of belief I had (which many others, I'm sure, have felt in their favorite sports teams) is sort of an allegory for faith in general.

Let's take this program back to Jesus, for a second, kay? Think about how hard it is to show and maintain strong belief in Christ. Sometimes you wonder "why the hell do I even believe all this?" and just try and give up. Sometimes you try and call a time-out from all the action, but you don't have any left, and after that, it appears you lose. Isn't that like putting strong belief in a team until the end, only to see them get eliminated in the tournament? 'Cause I've seen that happen before, and I wasn't all that happy.

So, really, I just want to point out the nature of faith itself. It doesn't even have to apply to a deity, really. Committing and riding it all out, all the usual stuff you hear in Sunday School, but it doesn't even have to apply to Jesus alone. I'm not encouraging idolatry, I'm just observing a parallel here.

Have trust. Have faith. If shit ain't going right, just find something to think about that will make it more right. Concentrate on God. Or concentrate on inner peace. Or on science. Friends, family. A story to believe in (hey, isn't that what the Bible is?). There's something out there for everyone to believe in, and frankly, if you find faith in one thing expires, there's another thing out there.

I'm a little burned out from writing this one, which I started early and took all day to complete. So, find what you believe in. Affirm your faith by declaring it. Tell someone who matters in your life how much faith you have in them. Pray to God. Give your support to a cause that has personal meaning to you. I could really go on.

That's all. But before I go....

Go Heels. Go America. Go to Hell Duke.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

...For Those Who Wish To Seem

Back with original content once again! Last time I blogged for this many days in a row, I was motivated purely by the fact that Rush was releasing a new album (an album whose awesomeness still makes me crap my pants with joy, thanks in part to songs like these). The title of today's post also comes from their 1981 song "Limelight" which is partially related to the topic I have for the evening.

Let me explain what exactly brought me to the topic of discourse for Day 3 of Lent. I was chatting with a good friend of mine over text messaging today (if you'll recall from Wednesday, I am actually making an effort to communicate with people this liturgical season) since it had occurred to me that we hadn't really talked since I dropped Twitter. We talked for a few hours, even discussing the possibility of investing our efforts into a starting a sarcastic greeting card company (something I always do appreciate about these conversations: how quick they can go to absurdity and back). Eventually, I brought up the recent news I heard that Brian May and Roger Taylor were reassembling Queen with Adam Lambert for a North American tour. It was not long after that my friend (for the sake of discussion, let's pretend her name is "Haley") voiced her immediate displeasure of Adam Lambert (besides, of course, the fact that he is not nearly good enough to fill Freddie Mercury's shoes). In particular, Haley went on about her issue with his "flashiness" and how she believes that this over-the-top personality he is superficial; she also went on to say that trying too hard to force such a gay stereotype as your image "goes against the concept of pride--being proud who you truly are." (Before I continue, it should be noted that both of us, especially Haley, are well in support of gay rights).

So, to be clear, I'm not here to discuss gay marriage, although that is a discussion I would welcome for a future post. What I am here to discuss is the personal illusions that people cast upon ourselves, especially for those who seek "living in the limelight, the universal dream." What exactly prompts people to put up false identities? Masks, illusions, costumes, or other metaphors?

Obviously, there is societal pressure. We all have seen the people in celebrity culture who seem to embody stereotypes: Adam Lambert, as mentioned above, is the flamboyant gay guy, Kim Kardashian is supposed to be a paragon of beauty, One Direction is the next wave of heart-melting British boys, and Kanye is a douchebag. (Okay, so that last one is probably true on both the outside and the inside). This isn't anything new of course, remembering the reckless lifestyles of 27 Club rockers like Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain, and so on, who also had to achieve their own personas to survive in the music world. Caught in the camera eye, some folks are forced to play a role, whether that role is themself or not. This is especially true with the rise of reality TV, where anyone who is willing to wait in line with thousands of people and make an image for themself on camera is granted a piece of fame.

So, how does this apply to us? How does putting up a facade like this affect a common dude outside the limelight? Well, it's not like we don't try and exemplify personas in order to get through daily life. I bury myself behind playing guitar, behind my callow acting skills, and my obsession with old music. Hell, even my Twitter account was like the Tyler Durden of my personality, a charismatic figure that exaggerated myself for a crowd of followers. The real us is sunken deep within, and very few can see it if we want others to still think highly of us.

So, how can we work to have pride in ourselves? "Put aside the alienation, get on with the fascination, the real relation, the underlying theme?" I think that full exposure of ourselves as people is not always something that can be done to completion in one's lifetime. As Neil Peart's lyrics in Limelight will point out, sometimes a personal barrier is necessary for survival, and when you're on the stage in front of a massive crowd (both figuratively and literally), bringing out the real you is not a spontaneous action. But in that alienation, you have to still consider what it is that you value in others, and let yourself be exposed when it really matters. The real relation. Going back to the Project Mayhem that was my Twitter, I think that although I tried hard to fictionalize myself and be the "funny guy," it still mattered to me that I didn't kill my genuine self in the process. Some of those "followers" sure do mean an awful lot more to me than just numbers to make my Twitter stats look good.

Above all, remembering yourself is remembering what Jesus made you (those of you who want a secular message can skip this paragraph and still find meaning). In this season of casting away your boundaries from Christ, the best thing to do is to let the real you live. He may not always see the light, but dammit, his time will come someday. And the Lord knows you and who you really are, and showing that person of limitless potential that dwells inside will only strengthen your relationship with Him. In the Kingdom of Heaven, all those facades will be gone.

All in all, don't try too hard to be completely naked in your true personality. But don't get rid of the real you, even if you think that it separates you from others, 'cause it sure as hell ain't gonna separate you from heaven. Don't hide the real you from those who matter most to you (the rest of the crowd can piss off, for all you care). Above all, remember the timeless words of Roger Waters:

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

From the Archives: Predictions of Films to Come

In the past, this blog was covered with numerous posts, albeit far between. I un-published a majority of the old posts, and most of them still lie on my dashboard, waiting to be revived. Tonight, I decided to bring back one of the old posts, in its original state and unabridged. For the most part, at least. I decided to keep the old writing style and not make any revisions to improve the text as a way to show a time capsule into my past (which, if you'll recall, is not a bad thing to do during a time of reflection).

This one comes all the way back from February of 2012, when that forgettable adaptation of Battleship was rolling into theatres, and I thought I was being original by conceiving ideas for new movie-based board games. So, for your viewing pleasure, back from the past, here is Predictions of Films to Come.

What is it with films today?  Originality is falling by the wayside, plots all share a similar pattern, and a lot more movies are based of other things like TV.  Things clearly have changed, but that's nowhere near as offensive as the movies I am prepared to vent against.  That's right:  I'm talking about about the board game-based films that are becoming all the rage.  Last year, the trend began with a blatant ripoff of Rock'em Sock'em Robots (I sincerely hope I am not the only one who noticed this).  Now, Hollywood is explicitly naming the game which it is fracturing, Battleship (hint: don't your aircraft carrier in row A or column 1.  It never works out.)  Since this trend is unlikely to fade, I am going to give filmmakers suggestions for future productions (they better give me credit if they use them).

Monopoly:  A tycoon is buying away the protagonist's favorite places in Atlantic City, forcing those who come across each street or attraction to pay an unfair rent.  The tycoon ignores protests from the citizens, building more houses and raising the rent even higher.  The protagonist, a washed-out businessman, brings his car, dog, top hat, boot, thimble, wheelbarrow, iron, and battleship (somehow) across the streets in protest of this new tycoon, making sure that his business is stopped and he goes directly to jail without collecting $200 he needs to accelerate his reign of wealth.

Operation:  "Doctor, this patient is beyond operation!" cries the obligatorily attractive female nurse, who lacks any actual knowledge of the situation, to the rookie physician "how can we remove the butterflies in his stomach before its too late?"  The patient, who had recently come in with a case of writer's cramp, is running out of time.  The doctor proclaims "we can never abandon a patient in jeopardy."  So he removes the butterflies, woos the nurse, and rides into the sunset.  The patient returns to his happy life, but returns with cancer.  The doctor and extremely blond nurse return to the patient, but neither is capable of treating actual maladies, and the physician watches as his patient dies on the table.  The nurse feigns tears on the doctor's shoulder, then whines about her lame acting job to the producers.

Pictionary:  All over the world, mysterious pictures in the Earth are appearing.  Conspiracy theorists are suspecting that they are alien messages, but all of the pictures do not make sense at all, even with a hint.  Hotshot detective Billy "Piksho" Nerry observes these drawings, and is somehow able to interpret a skillet and a crude sketch of genitalia to be Peter Pan.  He and a group of his colleagues set off around the world to decode these sketches and find out once and for all the reason behind them (spoiler alert:  it's a bunch of bored college kids).

Dominoes:  In the future, people are born with mysterious tattoos, almost like dots, on their upper and lower bodies.  A group of mad scientists comes to find people with matching dots and to merge them into Siamese twins.  After these men take over the world, a motley crew of insurgents joins together (figuratively, of course) to topple these mad domino-men.  Can they set up a rally and bring down these tyrants who want to line them up and bring them down?

That's about all I had on this post. Not perfect, perhaps worth a few chuckles, and it even included an inside joke from my family. Mornin' Hays signs off again, with original content to come again soon.