A True Art

There is a certain art to procrastination, not everyone is cut out for it. One must completely lack self discipline when it comes to simply sitting down and accomplishing a task. One must also have an elaborate imagination, for it is not easy to come up with excuse after excuse as to why an assignment must wait. However, I have been practicing the art of procrastination for many years now, and I would consider myself to be a true a true artist of the art. In fact, from now on I would like to be addressed as Picasso.

Home Cookin'

I never thought I would say this, but I am ready to be home. After being in college for nearly a semester, I am home sick for the very first time. However, it is not what one would usually expect. It is not my family, my house, or my home town that I miss the most. I really and truly miss home cooked meals. Do not get me wrong, I am looking forward to seeing all my old friends and family, but nothing could make me happier than a hot, home cooked meal. People say there is no place like home, but I say there is nothing like a home cooked meal!

Time

It is absolutely astonishing how time seems to just fly by. I will be nineteen this Thursday and to be honest I have no idea where the years have gone. It seems like just yesterday I was playing little league baseball, and now I am a college student. Both of my parents are approaching fifty and my little brother is in high school. It is odd how when one is young all he wants to do is grow up, and now that I am nearly grown I wish I could go back.

Last Good-bye

I stood in the back and watched as an eighteen year old girl said good-bye to her fifty year old father for the last time. I watched her knees shake and her hands tremble as she walked slowly to his open casket. She looked down at him, her eyes empty from crying but full of pain and anguish. She stood looking down at him for quite some time, trying to move but not letting herself for she knew once she did she would never lay eyes on her father again. As time continued to pass everyone at the viewing found themselves in silence with their eyes fixed on this fatherless girl. Eventually the only noise that could be heard was the soft sobbing as she continued to look down at him. Finally, just as I decided I could not bare to watch anymore she stopped crying and her hands and knees stopped shaking. She stood up straight and looked down at him one last time and said, “Good-bye daddy” then smiled.

R.I.P.

Death is a strange thing to attempt to deal with or to understand. In the past week three people I know have passed away: my Humanities teacher from a long battle with cancer, a childhood friend’s father from a heart attack, and some kid I vaguely knew from high school from drunk driving.
It is quite difficult to sort out how I feel about these untimely deaths, so one could imagine that it is nearly impossible to put these feelings on paper. It is not terrible grief that I am experiencing because in all honesty I was not extremely close to anyone of these individuals. It is more of a fear, not fear of my own death for quiet frankly I am not all that afraid to die. It is the fear that at any moment the ones I care for the most could be plucked from this Earth and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Every Dog Has His Day

Every dog has his day but last Saturday was clearly not that day for my Georgia Bulldogs. Thirty-one to zero in the first half, are you serious?
As I turned on the television my expectations could be nothing but high. This was supposed to be our year with Stafford leading the offense and the electrifying performances put on by Moreno, we were supposed to be unstoppable. However, after the first half we proved to be not only stoppable but a second rate team to say the least. As the game went on we eventually began to play. But we fell short, giving just a little to less a little too late.

A Cold Beer and a Friend

It’s odd the way something so simple and minute can bring back such a powerful memory. A few nights back I found myself on the back porch with a buddy just having beer after a hard day of classes and homework. There was nothing all that significant about this because it’s a pretty normal activity for my friends and me, but something was different this time.
As I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, for I was exhausted from my busy day, I felt myself drifting away, but not into a sleep and nothing like a day dream. Instead I felt myself going back in time; back to the house of a childhood and life long friend. My friends and I spent most of our high school years at this house. Especially in the winter because we were able to have bonfires. More nights than I can count I found myself sitting at Corey’s surrounded by my best friends drinking a beer and watching the fire.
I closed my eyes deep in thought yet not thinking at all. Even though it was hot and muggy on my porch I felt the cold winter air on my face and could smell wood burning in the fire. And as I went back there in my mind I realized for the first time that in my mind was the only way I could ever go back there. Not to Corey’s house in general but to those times. High school was over before I realized it had really begun. All of my friends have now dispersed and gone their separate ways, never to return to Corey’s house again. But even as a new chapter in my life begins, I can not help but close my eyes every once in a while and reread the previous chapter.