JROD's Music

There is this guy, Jarrod, who I work with at Starbucks. He is in a band with himself and he has a pretty good sound. This isn't a pity link to his MySpace. If I thought he was crap, I wouldn't put this on my blog. He is pretty talented. Give a listen here.

He also paints and has put up some paintings in the Starbucks on South Hover. Stop by and check them out.

London - 24 Mar 06

It occurred to me that it might be interesting to record the top 10 movies and singles in the UK while I am here, at least once. So, here they are, the top ten UK films:

1. Pink Panther
2. V for Vendetta
3. The Hills Have Eyes
4. Chicken Little
5. Syriana
6. Date Movie
7. Walk the Line
8. Lucky Number Slevin
9. Big Momma’s House 2
10. Tsotsi.

And the top ten singles are:

1. No Tomorrow – Orson
2. It’s Chico Time – Chics…or something like that
3. Pump It – Black Eyed Peas
4. Beep – Pussycat Dolls
5. Put Your Records On – Corinne Bailey Rae
6. Whole Lotta History – Girls Aloud
7. Red Dress – Sugababes
8. Touch the Sky – Kanye West
9. Sorry – Madonna
10. Thunder in My Heart Again – Meck ft. Leo Sayer

I might add that I have only seen one film on the movie list, Syriana. It was good. As far as the songs go, I know the sound of two of them by name even though I know all of them have been played on the radio while within earshot. I would like to get some of them even though they may not be amazing songs, they might bring back a little of London for some time to come.

As you can see Brits like some crappy movies and music too. The Hills Have Eyes? Big Momma’s House 2? Freaking BEEP? Yes, they have taste, but sometimes their distaste, just like the distaste of Americans, is how they are known. I did give a listen to every one of those songs when I got home. I ended up not getting one of them. They are all not in my taste. Some songs like Madonna’s “Sorry” bring me instantly back to say, a McDonalds, any McDonalds in London was playing that song five times a day. The music listed above doesn’t bring back the London I love at all. It brings back the fabrication, the Americanization of a wonderfully British city, and that is something I won’t mind revisiting.

Britain Responds

Yeah, Britain doesn't follow suit. Could Tony Blair's days as Bush's lapdog be over?

Fanning the Flames

The President wants to throw more gasoline on the fire. Meanwhile, "back on Earth", this looks like a bad idea. The Guardian on the call.

What?

Coming to America, David Beckham?

London - 22 Mar 06

I am back, and starting where I left off with those London blogs. I wrote this one a couple days after Kate left and I summarize the week with her.

Wednesday: Kate and I got up early for my religion class. Class ran until 12 and it took forever to pass, the time that is. Kate sat downstairs in the café to study some. We went to The Ultimate Burger for lunch. It was excellent, our second favorite meal of the trip I think. We then went to the British Museum and whisked through there seeing as much as possible. Kate really liked it and I am glad we got to go there together. The London Eye was next. At $25 a ticket we paid more than a dollar a minute to ride all the way up and all the way down. It was worth it. It was sort of a hazy day, but at least it was sunny. We got some great pictures and Kate really wanted to see London from the air.

We walked to Westminster next and took a tour of the Abbey. After that it was back to Leicester Square for Wagamama again. We showed up in time to beat the big crowds. We headed home and packed for the Paris trip next.

Thursday: A trip on the Eurostar from Waterloo to Gare du Nord in Paris took 2.5 hours. The train seemed like it was reaching speeds of 150 mph through the French countryside. The Chunnel portion of the track only takes about fifteen minutes. Paris was cold and dirty, and very confusing at first. It took us some time to get some money and buy a ticket on the Metro, but we found our hotel near a street that we named the Rue de la Poo. This street was covered in dog poop and seriously, some of the poo looked like it had come from dog’s owners instead.

I had a bit of a breakdown when I saw the room because I envisioned something much nicer. I would have spent another $100 to improve the room at a drop of a hat. I got over the room and headed to the Opera House for the bus. We rode the bus to the Champs Elysees and got off there. We walked around and saw the Arc de Triomphe, the Renault F1 Store, Louis Vuitton, and most importantly, the McDonalds and the pattiseries. We eventually found ourselves at Trocadero for an awesome view of the Eiffel Tower. We stood around under the Tower figuring out what to do for a while. We decided to eat at Champ de Mars for €6.50 cokes. The place wasn’t that bad, except for the cokes. Now, all the way up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was sort of a scary ride, and the top is so high. It was one heck of a view though. The open top platform was extremely windy and cold. Our stay at the top wasn’t long. We had a very cold walk back to the Metro station.

The perfect end to the day was trying to sleep in a European double bed with Kate.

Friday: First to McDonalds for breakfast, then to the Louvre. My thoughts on the Louvre: great works of art and all that, but its potential drowns in the sea of people and a building that is too large. It was great and all, but that is because I am not an art nerd. If I cared about seeing everything I would really hate that museum; too big, mazy, crowded, and noisy. We walked to Pont Neuf and had great pizza by Notre Dame. The church was magnificent and free which was shocking to me after being confronted with all the entrance fees for cathedrals in England. I was pleasantly surprised by the freebie. We went back to the Champs Elysees and accomplished some eating and shopping before catching the train back to London. We were happy to return on St. Patrick’s Day to thousands of drunken Londoners singing to strangers on the Tube. It was marvelous.

Saturday: Buckingham Palace, we missed the changing of the guard, but we did get to see the lone guard and Kate got a picture with him. We bought some good pastries and found our way to the National Gallery for some shopping in their great store. We then had Mexican food in London. It was not horrible, but I wouldn’t recommend it to others. St. Paul’s was next and it was just as good a view from the top of the dome at is was from the Eye. This might have been due to the clarity of the day, but it was simply awesome.

We crossed Millennium Bridge to the Tate Modern. We really enjoyed this day. We had a chocolate cake for dinner that tasted sort of fishy. We packed Kate’s bags for tomorrow’s flight.

Sunday: It was a tearful goodbye due to us reminding one another throughout the week, by simply being around each other, that we are so blessed to have one another, and to love each other as much as we do. It was quiet and lonely coming back to Muswell Hill. I miss Kate’s laughs and her face underneath mine with those beautiful eyes in squinted lids looking up at me. God has blessed it.

Paris is romanticized so much in prose, poetry, movies, and all forms of fiction that it could not possibly live up to the hype. It didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Paris, but it is still a massive city with loads of traffic and trash. What I saw of Paris before I went wasn’t what I saw of Paris while I was there. That’s all.

I remember being so excited to return to London after being gone a day and a half. To return to the Tube after riding on the Metro for a couple days was a relief. The Metro works, but it doesn’t work like the original.

Kate and I did as much as possible while she was here. I felt pretty humbled by the places we got to see and the things we got to do because Kate and I didn’t have to wait until we were 60 to see this part of the world. A lot of people will have to wait half a century to see London and Paris together, and some never will. Hey, look at me, I am rubbing it in. Sorry.

The goodbye was hard. I watched Kate until I could not see her over crowds or through walls. I finished reading In Cold Blood as the Piccadilly line took me from one end of suburban London to another; back home to Muswell Hill and a quiet house, all alone in London.

Picture: From the top of the dome of St. Paul's toward the front of the church.

Picture: Kate in the crazy traffic of Paris.

Why college football will always be better than the NFL...

Because you don't see that on Sundays.

Saddam

The New York Times details Saddam's last moments. Saddam had a predictable defiance and arrogance to the end.

Recess

This isn't a formal break from blogging, but I won't be blogging as frequently between now and the new year. I might get a few things in here. Most of my readers are home anyway, or not at a computer as much around the holidays.

I hope you all have a great break from whatever it is that you might be doing. Make it a celebration.

It is not too often that old

Colorado makes the headlines.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/
http://www.cnn.com/2006/WEATHER/12/20/snowstorm.ap/index.html
http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory?id=2740765
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2006/12/20/national/main2283238.shtml

Hello Snow, my name is Bryce

We have snow here, lots of it, and it's not stopping anytime soon. There wasn't any snow on that ground at 7:30 this morning. This picture was taken at 3. Starbucks closed at 2 today. Merry Christmas!

London - 19 Mar 06

It was a long and bittersweet journey to the airport this morning. I am so thankful for the journey/adventure that Kate and I had, but found the goodbye tougher than I expected. I didn’t expect it to be that difficult because I will see her in four weeks and two days. I will never forget this week, but I sometimes grow accustomed to not being around Kate for long periods of time. When we are brought together after such a long time apart I feel so refreshed, as if I wasn’t living in a way before our reunion. Love is one complex feeling. It does invite the possibility of great pain into one’s life. A part of this pain, comparitively an easy part to deal with, is ushered in by having to say goodbye to loved ones. I see her last wave to me and I have to build up my courage in order to make that last turn when she vanishes from my sight. I bat the tears away and try to be stoic and manly as I walk through Heathrow. At times during my journey home I picture her waiting at her gate. Throughout the afternoon I imagine her on the plane flying back to Denver, back to so much I love and know. I grow envious of the ones that get to see her next, because our visit was so short.

It makes me sad to know that in less than a month I will be leaving behind a new love, London, without knowing when we will be reunited. Leaving here will sort of be like leaving a great friend never knowing if and when you will ever see each other again. Maybe I will never return, maybe it will be 30, 20, or 5 years from now. It is a hole in me not to know for sure, but that is because I love this place.

Kate and I did so much this week. We took a lot of pictures which I know I will be thankful for if I don’t remember everything we did on every day.

Sunday: We got settled in Muswell Hill and rested for a bit. The first sightseeing was a trip to St. Paul’s for an organ recital. At this point in the day Kate was very tired and afterwards we got food at Marks and Spencer and brought it home.

We were a bit slow on Monday morning to get out of the house. We headed to the National Gallery and Kate got to see Trafalgar Square as well. We went to lunch at Wagamama and it was so good! I am glad I waited to go there with Kate. At Trafalgar I gave Kate the postcard that surprised her with the trip to Paris. She cried, as I knew she would, and we embraced with big smiles on our faces right in front of the National Gallery. We went down to Oxford Street. Kate saw the shopping madness. We had dinner at Spaghetti House which was alright, but not worth a return trip.

Tuesday: We went straight for the TKTS booth in Leicester Square to get Les Miserables tickets. A quick trip to AIFS to drop off a paper and back to Muswell Hill. We had some proper fish and chips at Toff’s on the hill. Kate was pleased with that dining experience. It might have been her favorite. We then headed back into central London to the Tower of London and awesome views of Tower Bridge and City Hall. Then to Leicester Square and a regrettable meal at Garfunkel’s, the UK’s Denny’s. Then it was Les Miserables and a great end to the day. The songs were catchy and good. The Queen’s Theatre was roomy and the eleventh row impressed me with grand legroom in this Hobbit controlled environment.

To get to Heathrow by Tube you have to take the Piccadilly line. From Finsbury Park to Heathrow there are 27 stops. That makes for a good hour on the train. It is eight stops short of riding the entire length of a London Underground line. Much of the Piccadilly line west of central London is above ground too.

Anyway, that morning a busker (street performer) hopped on the train with a guitar.

He freaked some people out. All the Londoners were saying, “Ah, great. Another nutter.”

“Hey folks. Sorry I am late for the show,” He said.

He started playing his guitar and was actually not that bad. He played a few Beatles tunes and tried unsuccessfully to get the carriage to sing along. After a few stops he said, “I will spare you the pain of listening to me upon receiving any donation.”

A lady from one end of the carriage walked to the center where he was standing and handed over a couple of pounds.

He stepped off at the next stop and got on the next carriage up from us to do the same thing all the way up the train.

I couldn’t sit with Kate at her gate until she boarded. I had to say goodbye after she checked in and before she went through security. Those first few steps we take that separate us are always the hardest, no matter how long the separation. All we can see in our immediate futures is the absence of each other. That is all I ever see when we have to say goodbye like this. For a time I feel so empty and devoid of something that completes me that I only care about seeing her again. I literally care about nothing else for a moment.

Wagamama is one of the best places to eat in London. I regret to say that it has not come to the US. Wagamama’s curry is worth crying over when you realize you are 5,000 miles away from it. I have some friends going abroad in the next year though. Chris, Erik, please if you are in Auckland, go to Wagamama. And to the Mick and Rachel, I think you are going, there is a Wagamama in Dublin and Cork. This just in, there is one Wagamama coming soon to Boston. This is good. They have to start somewhere.

The TKTS booth sells half price tickets to almost all of the big shows in the West End. There are a lot of rip-off booths, but none come close to being as good as TKTS. The sales are for same day shows. Many of the best seats in the house are reserved for last minute buyers; this explains the eleventh row seats for Les Miserables.

London - 11 Mar 06

Picture taken at Dunkeld

There is more to say on Scotland, but luckily I have a map with our route marked on it. I have also saved an itinerary. This list is just parts of the trip that I don’t think I have written about: the castle on the cliff on Skye, sheep with colors on their backs and what that means, the nuclear sub, the nukes in Scotland, Fort Augustus and Loch Ness, how people really do believe in Nessie, Dunkeld (the cemetery, benches, trees, bridge, and the church, but most memorable, the peace on the bank of that river with the snow drumming away on my hood), and the train ride home.

I walked along Oxford Street today from Marble Arch to Oxford Circus stations. I like the crowd of Oxford Circus every once in a while. I came for a copy of In Cold Blood and I found it for ₤3 at an HMV. I’ve started it and am quite struck by Capote’s rich descriptions. He really did master the non-fiction novel. Even though I am only thirty pages in, I can tell this, that I was inspired by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s portrayal of Capote in the film of the same name because it seemed to accurately fit the man, and it does. Prior to watching the film I was only vaguely familiar with the kind of person that Truman Capote was reported as being like. I always love when a movie puts in me the desire to learn more about its subject. I am looking forward to reading more of it as I travel to Heathrow tomorrow and wait for Kate’s arrival at 10 a.m. It is peculiar, but I am sort of nervous to see Kate because it has been so long since we have been around each other. I am also comforted by this feeling because it is a level of excitement and anticipation that is not often reached. One more night in this house without Kate.

The ewes get weird colors on their backs during the mating season because of the colors painted on the undersides of the rams. Each ram has a different color on his belly. The ranch hands are able to tell what ram did what ewe. They joke that the ewes with multicolored backs are the “hot ones.”

Scotland, because it is so desolate and sparsely populated, is home to the UK's nuclear stockpile. We saw an enormous nuclear sub that was cruising about in one of the bays. The Scots don't like that there are all these nukes sitting around in their ground. I didn't like it, and I was there for three days.

Dunkeld was our last stop before returning to Edinburgh. I spent most of my time standing on the lip of a river bank. I was taking it all in. I was being sentimental and dramatic about it all, but rightfully so. I was not just thinking about the amazing weekend I had just had, but the four months I was spending away from familiarities, away from everything. I feel very blessed to have had this opportunity. On that river bank it hit me, I was not taking this trip for granted. I was learning and seeing as much as I could in four months. I was working to make the UK a temporary home. And, maybe that is when I first thought I don’t want this place to be a temporary home, I love this land.

London - 9 Mar 06

Returning to the Scotland trip…Saturday’s start was at Kyleakin on the Isle of Skye. We then ended at Loch Ness. Before we left the Isle of Skye we drove the northern perimeter of the island. It is beautiful. There was plenty of snow, and hairy coos and sheep were running around in it. We had some more snowball fights as well.

One bus stop was at a creek where some of us put our faces in the nearly frozen water. Fab also filled up his bottle with the mountain water and it was so great. I think too many people are scared to drink mountain water. We are all so paranoid. Some of my best shots of the whole weekend were taken on Skye at a waterfall and at a castle that was next to a cliff. I got a donut for 36p from a local bakery in Portree. It was far better than something in London for the same price.

The group had a memorable presentation from a Scotsman on how the Scottish lived 600 years ago. I don’t know completely what it would have been like, but I’m pretty sure it would have sucked. He showed us how to fold up a kilt and how to kill using traditional Scottish weaponry. The Scottish, like the British, strike me as a generally sexist group compared to the general population in the US. Gender stereotyping and discrimination is much more of a joking matter over here. I feel the US is closer to gender equality than the UK is. It is a cultural habit of some British, who are mostly from the old school, to use sexist jokes when talking to foreigners, as if they are showing off their chauvinistic values. I don’t know if they think we would be impressed. I just don’t know, but it is sketchy.

I have been really busy, and I will be for one more day so I am going to bed, but I haven’t written anything about how soon Kate is going to be here. I am excited.

I don’t like Scotch. Scotch tape is great. I love the green plaid pattern on the paper inside the tape casing, but scotch whiskey is nasty. If I were more of a fan of that liquor I would have liked the Isle of Skye a little more than I did. Don’t get me wrong, the Isle of Skye is not just for scotch lovers, it was one of the most far out things I saw when I was abroad, but there were all these famous distilleries around, like the Tallisker distillery, which makes some of the finest scotch you can buy.

The island feels like the North Pole. You drive to the northern tip of it and the cold blue sheet of the Atlantic envelops your vision. There are impossible rock formations that remind me of Mordor, except they were blasted with snow when I saw them. There are signs of civilization, but that didn’t keep me from feeling I was the only person around for miles and miles.

The water that we pulled from the creek was the best. Don’t always be scared of diseased water. Drink. Enjoy.

Ah yes, the Loch Ness Monster. There are people that believe there is some creature in the loch. Light only works thirty or thirteen feet down in the water. The loch has so much peet in it that deeper than one of the two said distances there is no light that is able to pierce the dark water. The myth really does live on, even in the Highlands.

London - 6 Mar 06

The rest of that week was pretty busy. I had to lead a discussion on The Merchant of Venice. That wasn’t very fun. I was also making plans for the Scotland trip. It was a hectic few days and things are going to remain busy for at least the rest of the week and then Kate arrives on Sunday…Sunday!

I wrote the following on some scrap paper on March 4 from the hostel at Loch Ness:

I debated on whether I should take my journal along and decided not to. That was a stupid thing for me to do, especially considering my last journal entry.

We have seen so many things the last two days. I need to write down just a few words about things and maybe explain a few of them in greater detail later on in my writing.

Thursday…The 120 mph train to Edinburgh still took five hours with stops and all. It was instantly colder in Scotland, but also much friendlier, which is more important. The Scottish not only have a more aesthetically pleasing accent, but they will give you the time of day. The rush in London makes people so rude at times. They need to chill out! The pints are cheaper in Edinburgh, which was a nice present after paying $500 for this trip. I drank a Corona with lime, the first Corona since I had been here. They cost ₤3 or more in London.

Friday…Woke up early and left in the canary yellow Haggis tour bus at 8 am with Tony the tour guide. He proved to be fantastic and hilarious throughout the whole trip. We ended the day on the Isle of Skye, but on the way there we saw so much. Tony used his GPS (global positioning sword) for most of the trip. We saw Stirling, Glencoe, and Fort William on the way to Skye.

Lunch was at a 300-year-old pub which Rob Roy supposedly visited quite regularly. I had the braveheart burger with some haggis on it. It was pretty good, not too bad for intestines. I indulged in some chocolate cake and ice cream afterwards.

We also saw a castle that was used in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I thought of Kendra because she is absolutely obsessed with that movie.

Scotland’s countryside is beautiful and surprising. I didn’t expect to see so many mountains with tons of snow on them. The drive through Glencoe was beautiful. The mountains slope down to the valley with no foothills in sight. I ran up one of the slopes for a while with someone from AIFS that came along.

I believe near Fort William we saw a monument to commandos, but the highlight of the visit was the RAF jet practicing in the valley. The jet came in at really low elevations and then would pull straight up. It was an air show. The Atlantic around Scotland was so blue. It is weird to see snow on the UK’s highest mountain, Ben Nevis, which peaks at 4,409 feet, because the snow goes from sea level up to the peak in one swoop.

Scotland was radical. It was so nice to go to the other end of the island. It really isn’t that far away, but it is much different than London. The tour guide was funny. He asked us if we were enjoying our time in London. We all said yes. He then asked if we had gotten the BBS yet.

“Ay, the Black Boogie Syndrome, have you gotten it?” He asked again.

There wasn’t anyone on the bus that didn’t have it. The air down in the tube stations and in parts of London is so nasty and polluted that it turns your boogers black. Not a light shade of black, but black.

Haggis is sheep intestine. Usually it is served as a steaming pile of brown stuff on your plate, but the burger I had was a haggis patty. I thought I would be able to stomach that more than the steamy intestine rings.

I wish we had spent more time in Edinburgh. There are loads of museums and lots of awesome architecture there, especially when you come out of the depths of the train station that is in the center of town. On the train ride up I read a short book, The Case for Easter, by Lee Strobel. I left it in the hostel the next morning.

The first picture is of that really old pub.

The second picture is of Glencoe Valley.

London - 26 Feb 06

I didn’t go six days without writing, but I did go six days without writing in this journal. I spent more time on blogs this last week. I also wrote some important, lengthy, and exhausting emails to friends this week. Feeling the need to write and finding myself without this journal today I wrote the following on a McDonald’s napkin:

I don’t know if I have something in store, but I needed to write so I improvised and used these napkins. Sitting in a McDonalds on Fleet Street, right up from St. Paul’s, I have some time to relax. Personally, I like to think that I write a good amount, or more than my peers, but I have no reason to believe this is true. Perhaps I write significantly less. To raise my writing to an above average level I should write a lot more, and in different locations and times. I have been to too many places where I find myself desperately short of pen and paper. My next computer will be a laptop. I have to promise that to myself because I am becoming more convinced that a laptop is going to be essential to me becoming the writer I want to be.

I often forget the value of writing anything down. It doesn’t have to be after my most recent big adventure. You see, even in the previous sentence I marginalized my day to day experiences. It is still all life, and life is good.

This is a first, journaling on a napkin, but I like it. It adds a sense of adventure and character to this entry. I rode the very slow Hammersmith and City line to the former destination in order to buy another layer, this time a red Nike fleece. I bought my first London Krispy Kreme. It was delectable. I walked from Holborn to here and will now sit under the roof of the most beautiful church I have ever seen.

Later…I just can’t wait for Kate’s arrival. It is two weeks away and she will be here. We just got done talking and she sounds great. Now in a few minutes I’ll talk with my parents. Be back later this week.

I still have the napkin from McDonalds. I copied what I wrote on the napkin into my journal, and then folded the napkin up into a stack of brochures and random stuff from daytrips and whatnot.

Yes, they have Krispy Kreme in London. I paid $3 for one donut.

Not including the Docklands Light Railway, the London Underground is composed of twelve lines. Some lines are newer and faster than others. If you ever go to London, or have been, stay off the Hammersmith and City, Metropolitan, District, Circle, and Metropolitan lines. Those damn trains are always breaking down. A bunch of times I got into a Circle line station and saw a train there with its doors open. I naturally assumed that that train was about to leave the station. I got on, so did many others, and we sat there for a few minutes without word on why we weren’t moving. This is often the case on those crappy lines I mentioned. The rest of them aren’t bad, but the Piccadilly Line gets grossly busy during the rush hour. It also gets hectic in between Holborn and South Kensington because it stops at many of the big London attractions that inevitably draw the most annoying tourists. This is not to say I wasn’t a tourist for three months, but I was quiet, respective of the locals, and tried to be as un-American as possible while I was over there, that meant not being so boisterous and arrogant. In other words, I tried not be a flamboyant Yankee.

Happy Birthday to Mr. Ferber...

...Who is 27 on this day.

The Quarter Life: Friendship and Community

If you haven't visited Aaron Boeke's blog, go there now. Okay, so you know where that is. That's good. Now whenever you see "The Quarter Life" in my blog title you should read my blog and then go to his blog, or vice versa, because we have started a new series on life in our 20s and a lot of what that entails. Our first topic is Friendship and Community.


I have a community of friends that are as unwavering as anything God can give me, except salvation and forgiveness in Jesus Christ. We all have received a Gift greater than one another, and that Gift is continually bringing us closer.

Not too long ago I thought of these friendships as simply that, friendships. I was sold on the fragility of friendships throughout my life, but an odd thing happened when I left for university in Laramie, Wyoming, we became closer. While I was growing deeper and stronger with friends in my hometown I witnessed college, time, and distances separate my new friends at the University of Wyoming from their hometown friends that had been split by a high school graduation.

I took a journey to find out what was keeping us that close. It didn’t take much searching to know that something greater than me, you, us, and our friendship binds us together. What started out as a curious inquiry into Christianity, or a required trip to church, has developed into the community of brothers and sisters that I still find myself underestimating. I know other families like this are hard to find because this one isn’t broken. Though we are made up of broken pieces we are made new and whole by what binds us together. We have all had opportunities to walk away, to grow apart, to pursue life alone, or to find a new community. No friends have proven to be as great. No community has proven to be as strong. No time too long. No distance too far. No struggle too agonizing.

I am still young, but I know I have found friends that will be with me the rest of my life. Just like other friendships and communities, the one I am a part of is fragile. We are susceptible to envy, anger, discontent, and the tragedy of human nature. We have weathered all, and we will weather them again. You may think I sound presumptuous about the future. How do I know we will weather the storm again? How do I know we will continue to grow stronger? Well, I can’t predict the future, but I still know someone that will be there, Jesus, the foundation of this community that feels no borders, and that knows no condition not worth the love that we have been given, and the love we all try to share.

London - 20 Feb 06

I wrote a lot of emails today, a tremendous amount, maybe more than I have written on any other day in London thus far. I wrote enough to confirm that I write a lot differently in here. I believe my writing is weaker in here, maybe because I think the excess of “I”s and “to be” verbs are going to save space. Maybe they do, but they make the writing weaker. I also use loads of adjectives instead of describing something in detail. Another factor could be that when I write in here, it is only for me. Naturally, I do realize Kate will read this, but this is not for an audience. Emails, papers, and especially blogs have many readers, especially my blog. Ha-ha. I know what I write is going to be seen; it never leaves my head and I think that improves my writing in emails. Not only do I have to write to express my feelings, but I have the goal of entertaining my readers with something, anything. Above all, I want to provoke thought, emotion, and discussion. At this point in my writing career, if I succeed at doing any level of that at all, I am pretty happy with myself.

I was going to write that the Brits call the horns or buzzers at the end of a sporting event a hooter. I heard it tonight while watching some of the Torino Olympic coverage.

The UK has the real KFC over here, but London has become famous for having hundreds of rip-offs. We have KFC (Kansas Fried Chicken), Perfect Fried Chicken, Kabal Fried Chicken, London Fried Chicken, and others. These are all on the way to ghetto Finsbury Park, so I see them everyday.

We are in another cold spell this week. The weather is not pleasant at all right now. It makes me miss my coats and other layers that I left in the US. They would be very welcome right now! I see on my calendar that I get home in eight weeks. I think the time is going fast and I know the next eight, or at least the last six weeks, will go much faster.

I don’t like the British accent. I love hearing Kate’s voice every other day because of her good American accent.

Obviously my ideas on what is "for an audience" and what is for me have changed. I am willing to put a lot more out there now than I used to be. Still at times I find myself scrapping blog ideas because I don't think people would be interested in that, or I think what I wrote is crap because it is so different. I have found that some of that stuff, not all, is really the best stuff to throw out there. I can't be embarrassed of what I have written, or how I have written it. That is easier said than done, but a good rule for me.

I remember sitting down and writing loads of emails at least once a week. My experiences were so new and fresh I found lengthy descriptions and sweeping emotion coming at of me whenever I spoke with or wrote to someone back home.

I was freaking cold for a long time there. Everyone on the tube in the morning rush hour wore big wool coats. I thought about mugging a few people and running off with the coat, but I didn’t want to get deported. It might have been worth it for those few moments I had a thick warm layer on. Ah.

It took me a while to come around to the British accent. I really enjoy it now. Of course any American girl I met over there swooned over the Brit guys because of there accents. I always thought this was so pathetic. When I went to Laramie and met a bunch of foreigner athletes I encountered this lowly phenomenon. Some guy could speak with a really dirty sounding accent and the girls would just melt for him. I was envious at first of this power, but then I saw the girl that this foreigner had just won over and I felt better about it all.

Goodnight.

A little Premiership love for you...

Emre's goal, Newcastle vs. Reading