It's been a while since I wrote any real up front words for my page. I overloaded my emotion gland with religion and war and found myself pretty far from all forms of personal expression. Both writing and drawing left me cold. I've been told that I think too much, and that tends to leave me wallowing in self-pity. Maybe. Possibly. Most likely. I just say it robs me of my talents.

Nevertheless, I've found myself back in books, with my fourth semester of college heading to a close. When I came to Little Rock two years ago I found the library charming to say the least. I wrote an essay in Comp I about sitting in a blue chair on the fourth floor near a window that seemed to always have the bluest skies and white clouds of incredible size and fluffiness. The kind you mostly only see in George Lucas or Peter Jackson's computer generated universes. One Saturday morning week before last I took a seat back there for the first time in months to read again.

In days gone by I read words by Ernest Hemmingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Anthony Burgess. This time it was a book by Saul Bellow called Henderson, The Rain King, which was an older favorite of one of my newer favorite musicians, Adam Duritz. The book is a slow motion rollercoaster ride from the start as the character Henderson takes you on a journey though his mind while he travels Africa. The book is full of more than a few pieces of darker humor and near missed excitement that tends to leave me in an odd state. I enjoy the text quite a bit.

I watched two movies this weekend at the theater. One was Catch Me If You Can, and the other was Antwone Fisher. Both we're better than average, and worth mention here, so I won't link yet. I'll write reviews later.

Outside of leisure time there is work and class still. I'm rubbing my belly in both math classes still, but Data Structures, Astronomy, and Fine Arts are going better than I'd ever hope for. I took the Rising Junior Exam last Saturday and the Saturday before that. It didn't bother me too much except that it wrecked a whole lot of my Friday to Saturday sleep in session. I work twenty hours a week still, but work in really small shifts so it never feels like I work too long. I still spend a lot of time in the library studying though.

That's about it. Nothing extra special or monumentally fascinating to say. Just me and my daily routine as usual. It's been a while since I wrote anything much. I wrote a poem last week and that was the first thing in a long time. I need to get back to this and drain the fluid from my mind and heart and try to sift the pieces back out of the excess and put them in order. Stay tuned.