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| A while back, Stephen Tanksley, of Wheaton college, wrote a Facebook note lauding his friends for supporting him during a slight crisis. I was tagged in that note, and one Stephen's friends from Texas, Michael Wade, wrote:
"I wish my name was 'Blade'."
Here is my response.
To Michael Wade:
The name "Blade" is no responsibility to take lightly. By donning it you must learn to assume that people will, in fact, superimpose an idea about you that may not be true. Because I am quite quiet (and apparently alliterative), my name makes me appear mysterious and intense. Whether or not any of that is true is a matter of personal opinion. You must also realize you will become the punchline in various sharp-related jokes and incredulously bad puns. Seriously, you would not believe what some people consider clever substitutions for the name "Blade". It may have had a spot of funny when it was first delivered, but by the time I hear the same bad pun 5 times I only groan and roll my eyes.
So yes, you may wish your name was "Blade", but with great name comes great responsibility. | | |
| Okay, I seriously neglected Xanga for a while. She started crying bitter tears of rejection, so now I return to right (write?) the wrongs I have committed and raise assurances that I will take steps to avoid perpetrating again.
Oh my, it's been a month. There is much to catch up on, and little time to do it. Let's see if I can pull off a sparsely detailed one (run-on) sentence answer to fill you in on my Summer so far. I'm coming to the end of a photography class, saw 5ish amazing movies recently (all of which, at some undetermined point, will have a post devoted to them that will garner some form of exasperation as to why YOU have not viewed them [yes, the ambiguous you, because I am certain that 90% of the people who read those posts will not have seen the movies and thus make it applicable, to the 10%, my heartfelt {the deepest ones that require some manner of jackhammer to unearth and yes this is my second parenthetical within a parenthetical} apologies] yet), "celebrated" in the most sarcastic of terms my 2nd decade on this planet, felt very lonely for a while, kept up pretending to be a real piano player, started to find the verge of being a real piano player, picked up guitar, play guitar badly, stopped listening to almost all English lyrical music, and finally crafted this train-wreck and confusing sentence.
Hmm... I suppose that wasn't quite thrilling. For now, however, I must concentrate on finishing my shooting for my photography class tomorrow. Until then, cheers.
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| I wanted to write a few witty paragraphs, but it's almost five am... Since I have enough trouble writing anything almost passing for wit when all my mental faculties are intact, I'll spare you for now. There's not much to be said anyway. I spent the last few hours listening to Dead Heart Bloom, Music Videos, the sound of my Guitar, the sound of my fingers crying out in pain, and musing over 207 photos upon which I chose 15. If you so desire, they are available for viewing in two places:
http://willfullynaive.deviantart.com
http://wheatonil.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2015969&id=187702889
I bid you a good night
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| As extraordinary as it may seem, I did survive my finals (and achieved reasonable grades as well). The final days were a distressing mix of weariness and lax emotions, even after the conclusion of my exams. I spent the end of the madness helping friends pack and pretending to help friends pack, while practicing my lingering skills. Of course, after helping friends pack, it was pressed upon me to pack up my mess of belongings and insecurities and send them home via the United States Postal Service, UPS, and the O'Hare Airport.
Now I'm "home", borrowing an upright piano from my church, learning to play the guitar, lethargically passing the summer days, wishing I was more eloquent, and missing a few people very much.
I plan to write and compose in a few hours, and attempt to capture the essence of a few people I know in lines of melodic poetry. We'll see if that ever happens.
For that same one person who will undoubtedly notice my misuse of the word "whom" in the title and possibly "who" in this final note (though on the latter point, I could be wrong) according to the conventions of grammar.
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