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-James

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weddings and funerals. I mean birthdays.

Posted by james on Aug. 31, 2004

<img src="../share/birthday1.jpg" align="right"> Well, two things have happened. First, there was my birthday on the 14th. That was a blast. What'd we do? Same thing we've done every year, pinky. Cook lots of food (and hot wings), make ice cream cake, and have people over. It was a great party... no one fighting over the correct way to barbeque (Though I don't really know what you would argue about... no, put the meat on *this* way). Not too much rain. The only thing better would've been to be able to kayak around a bit and almost get eaten by a shark. Or a bluefish.

Second thing that happened was Abah's wedding. That was awesome. Probably because I had the best seat in the house (since it was, in fact, 2 feet away from both abe, the alter, and the little house that God lives in when he's at the church). The only important things I had to worry about were 1) get my tux, bring it 2) pickup some of the family, bring them, and 3) come up with a wicked awesome Best Man&trade; speech, say it. The morning of, I woke up with a start and realized... where was my tux? Was it really in CT? RI? No, Massachusettes is more my style apparently. So #1 was gone, and going to get the tux precluded #2 (picking up family). So at that point, I was depending whole heartedly on the Best Man speech. Man, that had better come out well.

<a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0706372182/ref=ase_alsmusicweddingh/102-0913578-9144161?v=glance&s=books"><img src="../share/wedding-book.jpg" align="left" border="1"></a> Thankfully, when I was at the church I found an old, worn copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0706372182/ref=ase_alsmusicweddingh/102-0913578-9144161?v=glance&s=books"><i>Wedding Speeches and Toasts</i></a> in the book donation box. What a windfall, I leafed through it as fast as I could and lifted what seemed like a completely appropriate speech. I had to change the names (of course) and turn all the "she"'s and "her"'s and "sister"'s into "he"'s, "his"'s, and "close aquaintance"'s. But I think it worked. I don't think anyone caught on, except when I accidentally read the part about how we both wanted to be cheerleaders together. I'm hoping they'll attribute that to the wine I hadn't drunk any of yet. Actually, I'm hoping that they'll attribute it to the wine they'd already drunk. Probably a safer bet.

<img src="../share/wedding1.jpg" align="right"> But all in all, a pretty good thing. I got to see New York, ate as many appetizers as was possible and appropriate (one waitress brought a whole plate of appetizers entirely for me... true story), and sipped about as much champagne as I ever want to. I think it'll bring memories back the next time I eat fruit or grapes and realize they've been left out in the sun, then in some basement, then in some bottle until they're <a href="http://www.greatlakesbrewing.com/Beerschool/cellaring.cfm">so bad</a> that whatever was growing in them killed itself long ago. Mmm, the memories.

And now I'm finally back in Jamestown, my home. I'm working on projects, finishing up little bits I've left undone for a while. I'm getting to hang out with people I haven't seen in years, and some people I haven't seen since the last time I woke up, and have fun with both. Jamestown is as amazing as always... if you've never <a href="http://www.jamestown-ri.info/">been here</a>, you should try it. It has it's own voice, and you can hear it when you're not distracted. What's next? Get a job, make money, build a nest, find a woman. But not neccessarily in that order, Dad.

My goal is to look for (and find) a job. With the help of 5 easy installments and 6 AA batteries, I've <a href="http://wonderclub.com/globes/explorer_globe_english.html">narrowed down the search</a> of where I'd like to work. Anywhere that isn't blue is O.K.

But for now, I'm just going to eat dry cereal and smell the warm night air, and let my thoughts drift towards tomorrow. And you all know what tomorrow means... <a href="http://www.jmdl.com/guitar/marian/Music/jb_tencent.htm">oh yeah</a>. Don't worry though, I'm making <a href="http://www.avp-movie.com/">plans</a> for the future. And what the heck with PG-13?

8:20pm

Posted by james on Aug. 14, 2004

Happy Birthday to me.

the face in the mirror

Posted by james on July 25, 2004

<i>Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.</i>

I never know what I'll see when I look into a mirror. Even though the image is usually familiar, I never quite know it completely; the little wrinkles of my face, the details that make it more than just the front of my head. I've only a few times seen the scar that blemishes my cheek... I can't even recall if it's on my left or right. The only thing I know well is my eyes, because usually it's the only thing in my focus.

The eyes may be the window to the soul. I wonder if it is, and I always ask the eyes in the mirror who they are. What are they thinking? What's behind them, what makes them tick? You would think having inside information would give me an edge on figuring this out. But it's just like seeing the front of a puzzle box. Sure, you know the big picture. But where does this small piece go?

I often feel like other people don't feel the same way... that when they see pictures of themselves, they don't even have to say it, they just feel "This is me." I think sometimes that I should feel that way, that I should see my reflection and not even have to say it, just feel that it is me. But I don't usually feel it for some reason, so I remind myself. That is me. It's like a small child saying into the darkness, "I am not afraid of the dark." It is a lie. But because he says it, one day it will be true.

One thing that is fun is to see each time how the face (I mean, "my face...") changes. Before I started this rant, staring at my own eyes, all I could do was smile, and the mask on the other end echoed my smile. That face was full of possibility; it was energetic, peaceful, wide-eyed staring into the future. Just before the last paragraph I went back to remind myself what I'd seen, but it was completely different. This time it was closed off, hiding what was there before. It's all still in there somewhere, behind those (my) eyes, locked into that (my) soul. But this time my reflection spoke only of now, of tonight, and the necessity of going to sleep so I can wake up tomorrow and chip a little bit more of life away.

But one thing I have done; I've become comfortable with this game. I can stare at that face, and think, wonder, look, ask. But it is my face. This is me. I may not recognize it or feel it yet, but I believe it. I hope someday before I die I will look at my reflection, and not even question. Someday it would be like questioning why everyone is right-side up, or why we don't swim through the air like fish swim through water. It will be so simply real that I wont even question. I think it's possible.


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