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Adventures Beyond the Comfort Zone

Saturday, March 11, 2006


Increasingly, it seems that the suggestion of the supernatural keeps popping up around me (anyone else see Numb3rs tonight?).  It started a little over two weeks ago when my photography assignment had been reformatted.

In honor of DSU's 125th trip around the sun, each of the buildings on campus was doing some kind of special project to commemorate the event.  Now, art majors like myself find most of our classes being taught in Beadle hall, which is supposedly haunted by the ghost of General Beadle himself.  Because my digital photography class is part of the 4/5ths of my classes to be taught in this building, we were to create a ghostly image of a photo of some part of Beadle hall; these images would be on display during the festivities.

This assignment got Dr. Jones talking about another, more "in depth" project.  (Or maybe this was the day before in the other class I have in the Mac lab with Dr. Jones [actually, I'm pretty sure he's just a professor, but I couldn't pass up the random, unrelated reference. {that and I have too much fun making nested parenthetical statements.}])

He was planning to take a group of students (volunteers) into Beadle hall late on a Friday night with flashlights and cameras and audio recorders to see what they could find.  Initially, I volunteered, thinking it was gonna be some goofy, fun thing.  Surely no one here actually believed in...  then the stories started..  (it must have been the day before, I remember now that I was already uncomfortable when I got the photo assignment)

First were a couple of tales about Beadle hall:  a clock 'jumping'/falling off the wall and startling a janitor, lights that had been off when the building was locked up found to be on the next day.  Easy enough to dismiss, but...  Then my fellow students began to talk/reminisce...  Some were tales from friends, some were personal experience.  A couple included a sighting of an actual figure...

Now, I'd never really thought much about it before, but with the recent re-awakening of my faith it really set me to thinking.  There is no room in that faith for 'ghosts.'  Even before Googling it, I knew there was a command somewhere about not trying to communicate with the dead.


Where was I going with this....  um..  right.

So, I'm not willing to believe that the human spirit is resilient enough to resist following the light on it's own (or whatever happens).  I mean, what was the point of Jesus coming to defeat death for us if we could do it on our own?

With this in mind, the only thing that really fits is the work fallen angels.  They alone have both the motive, opportunity, and ability to confuse us about what happens after death.

It's an idea that seems like it's been hiding in the back of my mind, but finally pulled out far enough to really explain it to myself. 

While watching Numb3rs tonight, these thoughts came flooding back to me as I tried to suspend my disbelief enough to accept that most characters were accepting the efforts of the psychic guest star.  I wonder now, who exactly is whispering in his ear?  Who's putting vague images in his head? 

I Googled my thoughts about half way through this and found someone who did a much better job of backing his information up than me (Martin, Gary).

I also find it interesting that my fingers have been missing their mark on the keyboard more than usual tonight, and that I've been distracted several times (like, a tad more than usual), and that after hiding my other programs to reduce this distraction I suddenly find myself with a bit of a headache...  I find it hard to take as mere coincidence, when I know there are supernatural beings that don't want this information out there.

...I'm curious now, how distractable you readers become on this one.

Thursday, March 09, 2006

More Lost Titles

Let's see here...  where'd I leave off.  Ah.  Yes.  Lost titles of days gone by.

Dysfunctional Car of Mystery
A Hairy Night in the Bathroom
Out to Camp
Day With a Samurai

So that's what's been happening the past week or so.  What?  Who said that?  You want me to explain them?  Well...  since you weren't there...

Okay, so early in the week, I was driving myself to dinner, and my car ... I'm guessing it backfired, 'cause the guy at Jake's couldn't recognize anything else that might be wrong.  And he'd just looked at it a couple of weeks ago to replace a wearing axle.

Last Wednesday was movie night, and the movie was Clue.  I was fairly excited at first, because I'd heard for so long how funny it was.  It was pretty funny at first...  and it probably remained so well after I'd left.  There was some kind of commotion in the bathroom that I felt compelled to investigate.  (That and multiple female characters had ridiculously low necklines...  [yes, there is a side of me that enjoys that.  No, I don't like to encourage that side.])

So anyway, I roll my chair down the hall from the lobby to the bathroom and discover that Danielle, Kensi, and Sarah(e) had 'volunteered' to dye the hair of my neighbors Eric and Patrick.  Normally, girls in the bathroom in the guys dorm...  well, that's not normal.  As it happened, this seemed to be where the party was at.  And so I spent the rest of the evening being moderately sociable with and taking pictures of my many strange friends (and I intend to put them on FaceBook next week when I'm on something faster than dial up).


You know what?  It's getting late again...  I'm not too worried about catching up before Spring Break is over; there's not a whole lot to talk about other than lots of goofing off and a little bit of homework.

Oh.  I've been thinking of starting another blog, just for my modesty talk.  I don't want the randomness here to water that conversation down (that is, if it ever really started.  ?).  I'll link it if it happens.

Until next time...

Friday, March 03, 2006

Lost titles

There's been an awful lot going on in the last week or so... Nearly every day has been blogworthy, which means there was little to no time to do so.
Anywho, I'm home again now and have decompressed in front of the TV for a while. Lets see how many I cen remember before I give up and go to sleep...
(I still have readers, right? leave a comment, will ya'? I feel lonly when you don't say anything...)

Skippy's First Gun Lesson:

Last Saturday, I finally took up the offer of my good friend Andy to teach me to shoot. I'd been timid about it in the past, but, well, as long as I'm rediscovering myself, it's the perfect time to try something new.

It was a great experience (for the most part [more on this later]). Yeah... it was heavy and loud, but... that didn't seem to matter anymore. Once he'd shown me what to do (and especially what NOT to do) and I finally had the pistol in my hand... I don't know that I have the words to describe the feeling. I was suddenly responsible for an incredible power! (Spider-man vibes??)

.... and I've totally lost my train of thought.... I really should just turn my messanger off when I'm blogging... let's see here.... umm..
ah yes, the power in my hands...

It wasn't exactly a power trip... more like adding another vertebra to my tiny backbone.

So then he broke out the rifle! It was heavier, louder, and so much cooler! (and I have pictures!) I lost track of how many rounds I fired into the icy river, so I know my targeting record was pretty low. But it felt great the 3 times I managed to hit the plastic bottle!

Then there were the 'tracer' rounds. It was kinda hard to see in broad daylight, but they light up when fired, which was really cool (when I was able to spot them). This is when things got interresting... I could have sworn all of Andy's shots had gone into the river/ice/dirt bank, but alas, he reloaded a few tracers for me to give them a shot (yes, I'm sorry but, pun intended). As I lined up to fire, I noticed a faint ... something not quite right..

"Dude... is that fire?"

Andy took off running. I hesitated. The old Kevin said, "woah.. no way I'll be much help with that.." To which I replied, "like heck, I'm gonna be the sissy man to stand here doing nothing!" And I set the rifle down and took off after him... and nearly killed myself trying to keep up. The terrain was not so smooth as he made it look.

Anyway, we did our best to stomp it out, but it spread just a little bit faster than we could put it out, so the fire department was called, and we went back to Andy's to chill/recover with Tucker, a pizza and Fight Club.

Sorry folks, that's all you get tonight. I'm shot.

------[edit] Oh, wait! I also got pictures of Andy's melted boots! His heavy duty, leather, Navy boots melted and cracked in the toe after much fire stomping. His gel insert thingies were a little different shape too! He was no longer "gellin'."