It makes me wanna dance

Stop moving, smile, don't squeeze your brother

Well, I tried to take some photos...

Eh

I talk so much about Hope and her struggles that my friends here in North Carolina follow her progress. Sitting with A in the library and trying to write papers that seem so trivial, A keeps telling me about what other people have written about Hope. She follows the blogs, too. I realize then, that I have yet to write anything. I suppose it stems from my worry that...eh, nevermind.

Mason at school

Chugga, chugga

So maybe this has been my problem. Wandering through texts of previously unknown content, I have been tested repeatedly and found, upon self-reflection, to be inadequate. On the drive to teach my final class today, I listened to an old mixed cd, one that I can only assume I made in Omaha. A consistent theme ran through the songs, badass. Perhaps it was the Midwest, mustang-driving persona I inhabited for a short time, but it was there. I must have been very sure of myself. I haven’t listened to a cd in the car in ages and I mistakenly turned it up after sliding the cd in, thinking that the volume was low. Static, then….blaring Rob Zombie. Wow, what must the neighbors have thought? They don’t seem the Zombie type.