cape fear river

this past monday, memorial day, i had the chance to be in wilmington with my friend abraham. while there, we decided that we should go kayaking in the river. so we called his friend jason, who owns a mini-van, loaded up the kayaks, and set out on our adventure.

here i'll mention that i have always had a fear of murky water. i guess it's some irrational fear that if i can't see the bottom there is something there that wants to eat me.

so we headed out from a dock just south of fort fisher, and proceeded across the sound to some islands. apparently, i'm not good at paddling a kayak because i kept heading in the wrong direction, despite great efforts. i blame the wind and the waves.

fast foward through about four hours of island hopping, marsh exploring, and miles and miles of paddling. on our return to the dock, we felt it would be easier to cross the breakwater (a long man-made wall in the river) and follow it back up the river, hopefully having the counter-current on our side and plenty of water to paddle in - we got stuck a couple times and had to drag our kayaks through a few inches of water. i didn't mind, because (1) my arms were tired and (2) i got to see some crabs that way.

well, once we got to the main part of the river, it was pretty easy going. we were just paddling along and paddling along and then i looked down and what did i see? i saw a shark fin. the sun was glaring off the water so i couldn't see the whole shark. plus the water was murky...which confirms my fear of murky water. the part of the fin that was showing was about 6 inches long, and from that Abe said the shark would be 4 or 5 feet long. maybe i overdramatized the illustration a bit. but it did make the trip more exciting, and i didn't get eaten, which is good.

i think i even got a muscle or two. anyone want tickets to the gun show?

one more reason why edwin mccain is funny:

"My favorite moment of anthem memories came years ago at an Atlanta game when I was singing the anthem and Jeff Foxworthy was throwing out the first pitch. We were hanging out in the dugout and Jeff looks over at me and says, “Hey don’t screw up that anthem.” I thought that was a little rude to say considering I was getting ready to go on. I looked at him and said “Don’t throw that pitch in the dirt.” We were both laughing so hard I was late hitting the field and almost forgot the words. Jeff threw the ball into the stands."

-edwin mccain

CO

well, i flew...

...over clouds...

...to a place full of clouds...

...mountains and clouds...

...barbwire fences...

...and when i saw it all together, i knew i had to leave.

prayer request

hey everyone, i know it's been a while, but there are some pretty difficult things going on right now. if you all could pray for my mom as she recovers from ankle surgery and our family as we try to make it through a pretty big trial, i'd really appreciate it. God's already done some huge things, and i'll talk to everyone and explain it more when i get back to raleigh, whenever that may be. let's just say that God answers to no one...not science or doctors or our need to be able to explain it when something pretty impossible happens, and i thank him for that. thanks a bunch.

perhaps i will write no more
when all i can think to put down
on paper is my love for you.
in former days that meant something-
me writing my heart between the lines,
you pretending not to notice.
but now in your absence
i'm excavating my own buried treasure,
writing and receiving my own mail,
trying to surprise myself
with the magic trick i perform
for no one else.


i used to write when i was bored. or when i was lonely. or when i was bursting with love. or any other time. i used to spend nights just scribbling away at my little notebooks - to see what i could write, what i could come up with. on nights like tonight, when i had nothing to do and no one to call, i would head "out" to some coffee shop where they knew my usual drink, if not my name, and i would spend the night writing about....everything. well, not everything i guess. it was probably mostly about how i was alone and how i liked some girl and how she probably didn't like me, and all that. and look where it's got me, all this writing. i sit here writing out of boredom and loneliness and so on, still. but from now on, no more poetry. if poetry is what you would call it. so one day when i'm dead and famous, and people wonder why i stopped writing, the "poem" above should explain it well enough. i'm really interested in finding a new way to live. things like poetry and music remind me of who i used to be and who i used to want to be: a poet, a musician, a romantic. i feel like i just can't do that anymore, although i'm giving music a fighting chance. writing used to be my way of expressing myself, and i would spend hours and hours writing the same thing a hundred different ways. but again, what good has that done me? so i say so long to writing poetry, so long to being a "romantic" in a friday-night coffee shop, so long to beating myself up over not being good enough for a girl. i'll be the king of america before i write one more line about all that.

Go ahead, pop you some bubble wrap....

Martin Sexton live

sorry the sound doesn't exactly match up with the video...that's just a streaming problem that i don't know how to fix. but you get the idea :) and i'm also sorry that the sound isn't too good...i was right under a speaker and it was just too much for my camera. but notice how he goes smiling crazy at the end of the song. haha, that makes me laugh.

"i'm diggin' this microphone..."

i learned at least two things tonight at cat's cradle. the first is that martin sexton is just sick...and by sick i mean completely awesome. the second is that he never stops moving around, and in a dark club it is impossible for me to get a clear picture of him. oh, but somebody got video :) shhh, don't tell cat's cradle. also, martin has a second mic that he can put different effects on, including electric guitar distortion, for when he wants to take a solo over top of his solos.

There is a Hell named in our Creede, and a Heauen, and the Hell comes before: If we looke not into the first, we shall neuer liue in the last.

-Thomas Dekker

battle of the britches...

with the coming of the summer season, there is one matter that remains in the front of my mind. whether i'm driving, or walking, or running, or just looking outside, i know that the summer is coming, and with it an irrepressible, uncontrollable, and rudely intrusive heat. now, i honestly believe that my body was designed for mild springtime temperatures; say, between 68 and 72 degrees. i can prove this with scripture if necessary. but nevertheless, i can't ignore the fact that my car's air conditioning system has passed on to the next life, or that pants, socks, and shoes are the top three causes of heat stroke in north carolina between may and august.

let's get honest here. my legs don't live up to the standard of what some might call "attractive". i have guy legs. legs that for nearly nine months have been shrouded in the protective fabric of my favorite jeans. i guess, in a way, my pants are my security blanket. you can't take legs like these and just disclose them to the public and the light of day without warning. but it seems to get so hot so soon, with no period of transition. maybe i need to migrate north for the summer.

who can relate?

My thoughts had reverted also, and for the last time my eyes saw the little hut through the pinewood haze. I met Mary there, and we came back to the present together.
I have already told you, reader, that this conversation took place no longer ago than yesterday.
"Very well, ma'am," I said, trying to put a brave face on it, "I will come to your tea-parties, and we shall see what we shall see."
It was really all she had asked for, but now that she had got what she wanted of me the foolish soul's eyes became wet, she knew so well that the youthful romances are the best.
It was now my turn to comfort her. "In twenty years," I said, smiling at her tears, "a man grows humble, Mary. I have stored within me a great fund of affection, with nobody to give it to, and I swear to you, on the word of a soldier, that if there is one of those ladies who can be got to care for me I shall be very proud." Despite her semblance of delight I knew that she was wondering at me, and I wondered at myself, but it was true.


And thus Barrie ends The Little White Bird, and I pick up another book.

what tom.....runs?

i remember the days when i could go for a run at lake lynn without being swarmed by the paparazzi. unfortunately, it appears that somewhere along the way i said or did something that makes my afternoon run newsworthy. perhaps it was that i still have christmas lights up in my room; or that i am the first one to check out The Little White Bird from dh hill since 1992. whatever it was, it seems that these freelance photographers will stop at nothing to get that oh so candid shot of yours truly.

i must say that the only reason that i did not push that photographer into the depths of lake lynn and sell his camera on ebay was that it was a digital camera. why does this matter? well, he was able to show me the picture, right then and there, and i must say it didn't turn out half bad (except, as you can see, i haven't had a chance to work on my golden tan). notice that brave grimace - that is the smile of a champion. and so, with a stern warning and a sweaty handshake, i sent him on his way. the end.

"I am in danger, I see, of being included among the whimsical fellows..."

i try to be as honest as possible here, being that this is my blog and if i'm not, who will be? and so i say that this blogging has become tiresome, almost as much as shaving or eating. the only difference is that this is always something new - i thrive on creativity - and that none of you watch me shave. i hope. so what does tom have to be honest about? have you ever read something and it just described you so closely that you can't believe it? well, i recently checked out The Little White Bird by j.m. barrie from dh hill. if anyone is interested in knowing my life story for the past year or two, read chapter 9 of that book. it is entitled 'a confirmed spinster'. if that doesn't tell you enough. basically, the narrator suddenly realizes that he has changed as a person without knowing it, and looks back on his life to find when and how it happened. it was like reading a biography of myself. but this is where i stop being honest and let those of you who care enough read for yourselves.

coolest song of the year

this year's award goes to imogen heap, impressing the judges (me) with the song "hide and seek". congratulations, ms. i megaphone. ps....your name confuses me.

boy, interrupted

nothing says "go watch a movie" like realizing that your anthropology project isn't due for another week. so i did.

i've been listening to andrew bird lately. he seems like a magician of music at times. the strange thing is that i don't like his fast, skee-bop swing-band tunes, but his slow, mellow songs are just...hmm, what's the word... entrancing, maybe? my last post was an old english lyric from which he sampled the lines "sovay, sovay, all along the day" into his song 'sovay'. as you may notice, he misquoted the line a bit. he had this to say about that:

"Well, I always prefer to misunderstand songs. I think a lot of great things come out of misunderstandings. That’s why I love Charlie Patton. I’d rather not get a lyric sheet. I’d rather misunderstand what he’s saying and have it be a spark for a new song. So anyway, in this case, “Sovay” was from an old English Childe ballad—“Sovay, Sovay, all along the day”…something about some highwayman or something—but I never bothered to research it, and I never knew what it meant; it was mysterious. I was working on this song, and suddenly that word popped out. I was looking for a new word to describe unprecedented circumstances, and that word had not been defined for me, so it fit the bill and it sounded good. It’s a new word."

anyway, that song is one of my favorites, along with 'measuring cups' and 'lull'.

a lot of times i wonder if i'll ever meet someone who gets me, someone who is interested in understanding. someone i don't have to persuade to go see a martin sexton show. someone who likes to go running. someone who makes me be me. someone who likes the idea of a sad saxophone solo over a slow jazz accompaniment. someone who can't explain why she likes writing poetry. i haven't had much luck, i guess, but mr. rabbit needs his foot so we'll just leave that where it is.

today i saw a 40 inch square mirror by our complex's dumpster, and i brought it back to my room. there's nothing wrong with it, except that it doesn't make me be able to dance like i wanted it to. i guess some things don't come easy.

Sovay, Sovay, all on a day,
She dressed herself up in man's array,
With a sword and pistol all by her side,
To meet her true love,
To meet her true love away did ride.

As she was riding over the plain
She met her true love and bid him stand.
"Stand and deliver, kind sir," she said,
"For if you do not,
For if you do not, I'll shoot you dead."

He delivered up his golden store
But still she craved for one thing more:
"That diamond ring that I see you wear
O hand it over,
O hand it over and your life I'll spare."

"From a diamond ring I would not part,
For it's a token from my sweetheart.
Shoot and be done, you rogue," said he,
"And you'll be hanged then,
And you'll be hanged then for murdering me"

Next morning in the garden green,
Young Sovay and her true love were seen.
He spied his watch hanging from her clothes
Which made him blush, lads,
Which made him blush, lads, like any rose.

"Why do you blush, you silly young thing?
I thought to have your diamond ring -
T'was I who robbed you all on the plain,
So here's your gold, love,
So here's your gold, love, your watch and chain."

"I only did it for to know
If you would be a true love or no.
If you'd have given me that ring," she said,
I'd have pulled the trigger,
I'd have pulled the trigger and shot you dead."

he says, "honestly,....

the past few days have filled me with a feeling of "what's next?" it's funny how the changing of weather has so much influence on me. warm is happy, cold is sad. rain used to be sad too, but one day i was listening to norah jones during a rainstorm, and that somehow changed that relation. winter is cold, and therefore sad, although snow outside the window is somehow happy. driving by myself can be either, but riding in the passenger seat is somehow sad. coffee is happy. writing can be either."

"a certain relationship has kept me stuck in the past. all the happy memories make me sad and inspire sad, but honest, writing. this feeling of "what's next?" takes how i've felt for so long and multiplies it a hundred times. is happy next? maybe this is what was meant by truth being stranger than fiction."

just in case you didn't believe it...

the internet does contain everything you can imagine. please refer to the following websites for evidence:

Crying While Eating
even funnier than these people "crying" while eating random foods are their reasons for crying.
The Childhood Goat Trauma Foundation
you don't have to be ashamed anymore. disclosure brings healing. the more time i spend reading through this site, the sillier it seems. and by silly, i think i mean funny.

ok, enough of that seriousness. midterms have been keeping me busy this week, but not too busy to notice unupdated blogs. i don't want to najoshme namikemes, but i think we all know whnatalieo i'm talking abou3000-Ct. well, about a week or two ago i recorded a few of my songs on mike's mac. if you want to hear them, click on "some songs" to the right. just be warned that i'm not that good and i write lyrics about girls. so yeah, that's my obligatory disclaimer.

in other news, it seems that Favoritehood is up and running again. i feel like i should apologize for referring to it as the "black hole of cyberspace". but if i can explain... you see, i was a big fan of the favoritehood. i appreciate daniel's creativity and humor (those of you who get the praise team emails know what i'm talking about). so, for me to see such talent and potential abandoned for so long, i was deeply hurt. nevertheless, i apologize.

just don't let it happen again - i still have my eyepatch and sword.

"...like a friend with somewhere to go..."

i was able to spend a few days in high point this weekend, which was great. but i always leave town with a strange feeling. let me try to explain this feeling. most of all, it is a feeling of missing my family. i feel like i hardly get to see them, or talk to them. i'm sure this is mostly my fault, but there you have it. our society loves to use the idea of "business" as an excuse, but like they say on seinfeld: "who's not busy?". i think the real difficulty is genuinely keeping up with relationships. for me, it's hard to sit down and talk with someone that i haven't seen in a while. i don't know what to talk about, or where to start. i need to spend time with that person. i guess the rest of this strange feeling i get is from trying to grasp the concept of life. there are parents, siblings, friends, and all the things that keep us busy. sometimes i get to see my parents, my siblings, or my friends. then i find myself driving back to raleigh to jump back into all the things that keep me busy. it just seems like a crazy, unfair mess sometimes. it makes me wish i was 6 years old, having water fights at my grandma's.

breaking spring south of the border

ladies and gentlemen, i would like to make an announcement: i have officially been to charleston, sc. this has been a wish of mine for some time now, and i am glad to say that it has been fulfilled. i would like to thank todd for his excellent driving for nine hours skills, sarah schrum for appearing out of nowhere and being a friendly face in a strange, but pleasant, town, and all the numerous watertowers that encouraged us along the way. i would also like to not thank ihop for giving me too much bacon. now on to some of the pictures i took (many were from the moving car...hey, we drove down and back in the same day):