Expect the migration to happen before the New Year. Until then, stay safe and take luck and care.

— Arthur.

School’s out, and I am positively bursting with the desire to explore and know; to capture and learn. This past weekend was a good start.

I’m going to have fun experimenting with this lens this summer.

I turned 21 three days ago.

I’ve been reading journals from five years ago—bits and pieces of a mind remarkably similar to mine in its conclusions, yet entirely different in its process.

It’s as if someone took my brain right now, pried it open, poured concrete systems and plastic castles into it before coldly forcing it closed with staples and duct tape.

It’s as if now I’m five years younger, not older.

[pullquote author="David Grossman, To the End of the Land"]She almost says, When you’re older you’ll understand, but in fact she knows it’s the opposite: When you’re younger you’ll understand, when you’re a little boy again, making ridiculous bargains with frightening shadows and nightmares, then maybe you’ll understand.[/pullquote]

Advice from the past

On my sixteenth birthday, I gave my 21 year-old self some advice; mostly general, some specific. Here are some highlights:

• Be living on less than $10,000 a year. There’s no excuse for making more than that—it only encourages consumption and waste. Not sure what I was thinking here; I should have thought about the fact that I’d likely be in college with minimal amounts of income. Still, it’s a good sentiment and I still try to live simply (probably less so than I had imagined five years ago).
• Don’t even think about getting married. No worries.
• Read more. I wish I had gotten on this one sooner. Last summer, I finally subscribed to the New Yorker, which I try to read entirely every week. Thanks to my Kindle, which I got this past Christmas, I’m slowly getting into the habit of reading books again, not just skimming them. I’m on my fourteenth book for 2011, and hope to keep up the pace.
• Don’t drink too much. I think I’m in the clear here as well.

Back to the future

If I could mail myself a journal back in time to my sixteen year-old self, here’s some things I would tell me:

• Learn to live in the moment: Everything in life matters less than you think; don’t miss the really good moments for focussing on the big picture.
• Never get a cel phone: If you never start, you never have to quit.
• Myspace is not forever. Yep.
• Learn to do one thing well and learn to enjoy it. Don’t be the guy kind of good at everything without excelling at anything.
• Research the effects of smoking salvia and Percocet together. Seriously.
• The answer to the problems of religion isn’t an experiential, emotional high. In other words, don’t compromise your intellect for what feels right. Don’t just “go with it”.
• Learn how to be OK with aloneness. Loneliness is the human condition; embrace it instead of fighting it. And enjoy the moments of loveliness in our bumbling attempts at togetherness without trying to hold them in your fist forever.
• Shower less, wash your clothes less, and use less product on your body. For real, do you even know how much water you use?
• Learn how to write your feelings if you can’t talk about them. And save your writing; don’t burn it in a fit of self-loathing.
• Drink more. Yes.

[narrowcolumn foo="bar" side="left"]If you have to ask why i see urban/civilized landscapes in black and white, you and i are probably never going to be friends. If you see these things in color, you need to squint more and probably should probably should meet a homeless person who lives on the North Side of Pittsburgh named Aaron.[/narrowcolumn]

[narrowcolumn foo="bar" side="right"]i only have one more paper—6 pages—to complete this semester’s transformation into only a memory. One paper—yet here i sit. it doesn’t help that as of 24 hours ago i’m in white Pennsylvania, my right foot hopelessly curled on top of my left one, as if to say, “if we both freeze, i’ll go first,” and blissfully unproductive.[/narrowcolumn]

This is my the-semester-is-over-and-i'm-still-alive celebratory drink.

Antibiotics are standard additions to commercially blended poultry feed. (So are corn, hydrolyzed feather meal, and blood meal). Hormones are not, but you can still find the label “no hormones” as long as manufacturers add the USDA-mandated disclaimer: “Federal regulations prohibit the use of hormones.” Turkeys aren’t protected by the federal Humane Slaughter Act, and they’re often stunned in electrocuted water baths before being decapitated.

How’s that Thanksgiving meal sitting on your stomach?

A virus outbreak here on campus spawned undead with abnormally contagious powers. Thankfully, they could be stunned with Nerf guns and typically starved after two days without feeding.

My ever-present, unbelievably gigantic ammo magazine came in handy when being attacked repeatedly by the especially vigilant Daniel Lassman zombie.

The zombie moves in for the kill, while the human with the ginormous ammo magazine stands steadfast

i promised one more memoriam to summer; i was thinking along the lines of the photo highlights of summer. That’s when i realized, i could show my appreciation for Count Summer by going on another trip, one last adventure before the cold comes.

Here goes

Fall break: me and a buddy got on our bikes and headed northeast, into Kansas’ beautiful flint hills region. We pitched camp in a rancher’s cow pasture one night. We discovered a lake close to the northern edge of the flint hills and spent the better part of our borrowed time there, breathing and smelling and running and dancing with the sun.

Goodbye, Summer. Hello, Sir Autumn.