On the Road

I'm heading off to Atlanta in the morning, then to L.A. from there, so I'm not sure how much posting I'll be able to do. But I promise that when I get back, there will be tons of pictures, stories, and accumulated bits of wisdom from the road. Take it easy and (for those of you in the U.S.), enjoy the holiday!

All in a Name

G	Glamorous
E	Enjoyable
O	Outrageous
F	Feminine
F	Flavorful

Name / Username:

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

(courtesy of Colin)

I don't know how accurate this thing is.

Glamorous: Well, I've never thought of myself as such, but I suppose this could be true.

Enjoyable: I'd certainly like to think so.

Outrageous: Only when I've got a little alcohol in me.

Feminine: Slanderous!

Flavorful: Hmmm, I dunno. What do you think?

10 Years in 2 Minutes
I decided to do Marc's MEME which involves choosing a memory from each of the past ten years and writing about it. To call my memory horrible would be an understatement, so I relied on photo albums. Some of the pictures below are actually digital photographs (taken with a digital camera) of other photographs (taken with 35mm film), so the quality may not be great. Enjoy!
Date of Birth:May 3, 1982
Current Age:22
2004, Age 22

In April, Colin and I celebrated our two-year anniversary. After spending the day at Piedmont Park, we went to the Sundial revolving restaurant atop the Westin Peachtree Plaza in downtown Atlanta. The food was good, the view was spectacular, and of course, I couldn't have had better company.

2003, Age 21

July of 2003 was not the first time I ever visited New York, but it was certainly the trip that made me fall in love with the city. I went to visit Colin, who was living in the city for the summer while he did a publishing internship. I met his cousin Nicole, who in my mind is the quintessential New Yorker, and his "Anty Ann", who is just nice beyond belief. New York, New York. I think I'm going to like it there.

2002, Age 20

In February of 2002, I had the first and only accident of my driving career. And before you say anything, it wasn't my fault! I spent the whole night in the ER at Grady Hospital and left with a huge plastic neck brace that I only wore twice (and only in the privacy of my dorm room). I received a small settlement for injuries and pain and suffering in early 2004.

2001, Age 19

The summer of 2001 was when I first came out to myself. The picture above was taken in my brother's godmother's house in Charlotte, where I spent many late nights chatting on Mogenic, which was then in its early days as well. The picture is also the one that I used on most of my online profiles at the time.

2000, Age 18

On June 6, 2000, I graduated from The North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics, the premiere high school for math and science nerds in the state of North Carolina. This was also the place that I lost my interest in becoming a mechanical engineer (damn you, Ms. Graves). I met some of my best friends at NCSSM, and had some of the most memorable times of my life there. I was happy to graduate, but I'll always miss the place.

1999, Age 17

In 1999, my dog Chance went crazy. We had given him away earlier in the year for his own safety (he was mauled by three dogs one sunny afternoon). Well, the family that we gave him to left him tied to a tree during a Spring tornado that ripped through the city's western suburbs. Though he survived, he was never quite the same after that. After he started biting people, they had him put to sleep. Poor Chance. I miss him.

1998, Age 16

In my sophomore (high school) literature class, we each had to pick a country and do a detailed paper and project on that country. It was part of a big program our teachers referred to as Around the World in 80 Days (though we had far fewer than 80 days to complete the paper and project). My country was Morocco. The paper was decent, but my real pride and joy was the project. I built a scale model of the city of Casablanca. It's hard to see all of the detail in this picture, but take my word for it; it was awesome.

1997, Age 15


1997 marked a year of big physical changes for me. First, I had a small growth spurt that left me an inch and half taller (though unfortunately, that would be the end of my growing years). It was also the year in which I got braces and got rid of those darned glasses (God bless contacts). You can see the before. . . and the after.

1996, Age 14

In the summer of 1996, I went deep-sea fishing for the first and last time. Though I was all smiles at the beginning of the trip (when the picture was taken), I spent the remaining 4-5 hours of the trip huddled on the floor (when I wasn't bent over the edge of the boat spilling my guts into the water) passing in and out of consciousness. Motion sickness is no fun, folks. And motion sickness in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight is even worse.

1995, Age 13

Interestingly enough, this year was one of the easiest to remember, even though there was nothing particularly noteworthy about it. We took a trip to City Hall for my Social Studies class where we "argued" about a fake zoning ordinance in front of a Board of Aldermen made up by our peers. I played the part of a cantankerous old man who didn't want a basketball court built down the street from his house. Although I was upset at not being chosen to be one of the aldermen, my speech to the board was the only one that got unanimous applause from the class. How do you like them apples?
I'm not sure where I saw myself in ten years back then. I'm pretty sure I saw myself graduating from college with a degree in Architecture and going on to design skyscrapers. Though I did graduate from college two weeks ago, it was not with a degree in architecture, and I'm more likely at this point to be working in skyscrapers than building them. I certainly didn't think I would have met the love of my life (or that it would be a guy). Go figure. All in all, I'm happy with how my life has played out so far, and I look forward to many more good years to come. (P.S. I know that it's really only 9 years since I used 2004 as my first year, but by the time I realized it, I was too tired to go find a picture for 1994)

Right up my alley

If I had a vagina (mayhaps I am leaving myself open there), it would be positively soaked right now. Why? There's a new blog in town. And it's all about my favorite subject as of late: New York real estate! Woo hoo! Check out Curbed when you get a chance. If it proves to be any good over the next few weeks, you can expect a permanent link on the page.

Living it Up

I know I talk about New York and the price of housing a lot, so I promise I'm not going to do that today. Instead, I'm going to talk about the cost of other things :)

I found two articles (by way of the wonderful people at The Gothamist, that outline both the spending habits of New Yorkers, and the relative expensiveness of living in the city. Where does one's money go in the city?

Average Income: $92,000 in Manhattan
Cost of a Movie? $10.25
A glass of Chardonnay: $12.00
A meal at the Masa restaurant: $300 a head
An omelet at Le Parker Meredien: $1000

The articles are far more interesting to read than my little blurb, so here they are. Enjoy!

Uberclass City
Cashing Our Pay Chic

Have you no decency?

The depths to which this administration continues to sink are horrifying. Irreparable harm is being done to our democracy every day (and it's not terrorists who are doing it).

One more reason gay people shouldn't be republicans . . .

Sorry for the lack of posts recently, but as Colin and Marc have described so eloquently in their respective blogs, the last week or so has been tremendously busy with graduation and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding it. But, I finally have a free minute, and in true Shockster fashion, I'd like to use it to try and knock some common sense into people.

So, to all you gay republicans out there, here's a bit of news. The Log Cabin Republicans have been denied a booth at the NC GOP convention. Why? Because, in the words of the CHAIRMAN of the state Republican Party (who returned the LCR's check), the values of the Log Cabin Republicans are "diametrically opposed to the values of the North Carolina Republican Party." It would be easy to say that this is simply the opinion of one man who happens to be in a position of power, and that his views do not represent the rest of the party, but wait! Apparently, he conferred with state party leaders about the booth before making the decision. Well, what values of the LCR does the party oppose exactly? According to Mr. Blount, the party disagrees with the LCR's desire to "push gay issues" as well as its criticism of the federal anti-gay marriage amendment. "As state party chairman, I support the definition of marriage as being a union sanctioned by God between a man and a woman. That is what the Republican Party talks about in its platform and will talk about this weekend." If this is not enough to make any Log Cabin Republican walk away in disgust and at least become an independent, the platform that the GOP delegates plan to vote on at the convention includes the following:
-A statement opposing same-sex marriages
-A statement against adoption of children by gay and lesbian couples
-A statement against publicly financed benefit plans for unmarried partners (which is inherently discriminatory against gays and lesbians because they won't allow gays and lesbians to marry)
-A commendation to the Boy Scouts for rejecting gay Scout leaders and "defending decency".

I write this as an appeal to all gay Republicans out there. The Republicans disagree with YOU, personally. They disagree with who you are and would like nothing better than to strip you of the rights that you deserve as a human being. You don't have to become a Democrat; they have issues too. But whether you choose to be independent, a Libertarian, or anything else under the sun, don't support people who are "diametrically opposed" to a huge part of the very essence of who you are. Wake up, please. I beg you. Wake up.

Don't Pay any Attention to that Man Behind the Curtain

Sometimes, watching this administration is like viewing a clever comedy. The little things that happen are just so outrageously over the top, that you're tempted to laugh and say "man, that could never happen in the real world". But then you realize that you're not watching a movie; you're watching real life. And that realization is made all the more powerful by the further realization that so few people seem to care . . .

Case in Point: Paul Bremer announced today that the US will leave Iraq if the new government asks. Hmmm. So, what are the odds that a new Iraqi government, handpicked by the U.S. (under the guise of an "election" supervised by Bremer himself, no doubt), will ask us to withdraw our troops? Next to zero. The unfortunate thing, however, is that many people in this country will view Bremer's statement and the subsequent request by the new Iraqi government for our troops to remain, as evidence that the Iraqis really want us there and we've been doing everything right from the start. Because afterall, as Bremer said "we obviously don't stay in countries where we're not welcome". Don't laugh, folks. Remember, real life.

But what happens in the unlikely circumstance that the new Iraqi government does ask us to leave? I have no expectation that Mr. Bremer will live up to his word (since it's not really his call anyway), but if he and the Bush administration DID actually withdraw, then it would prove that the administration was wrong all along and we should have never been there, right? Not in movie-land, folks. The more likely scenario is that the administration will be praised for its willingness to let the Iraqis govern themselves and make their own decisions. Conservatives will use the U.S.'s withdrawal as proof that democracy has been established in Iraq, that Coalition forces were never an occupying force (they were there for the Iraqis of course), that evil has been abolished by the great white sword of Christian Conservatism, and so on.

So, either way, the adminstration looks like a winner. And what will that mean for you and me? Four more years of Mr. Bush. For some reason, this movie isn't that funny anymore.

Out of Town

Sorry for the lack of posts in the last few days, folks. I'm in North Carolina until Tuesday, so thank whatever God you believe in for having a break from me, and come back on Tuesday for some fresh content.

Left Behind (finale)

Sunday, May 4, 2002

           I am convinced now that Tommy is gone for good. I have not seen him in the three days since our unplanned meeting, nor have I seen any new evidence of his continued existence. I can only imagine that he left this part of the wood the day that he saw me and has no intentions of returning. Still, however, I sleep with the spear. Besides, I now have bigger things to worry about than Tommy. The noises do not seem to be subsiding. With each passing night, I am convinced that my days are numbered. Tommy will not get me, hunger will not get me, nor will fatigue. The noises will be my downfall. We must be rescued, or I know we will die.

Wednesday, May 7, 2002

            I cannot bear this place any longer! The noises have gotten louder, and now they creep into the day. The hope that any day, David and the others will come back with help keeps me alive. That, and the fact that I have to take care of Daniel. He does not look well. I fear that he may be dying from grief. I try to comfort him, but as always he doesn’t respond. I have grown tired of our one-way conversations, but if I do not talk to someone, I will lose my sanity.

            The noises have become like voices, but they are voices I do not want to hear. They are not like people talking; they are like demons whispering. And they have gotten closer. Where once they were distant, I can now hear them outside of the cockpit door at night. Were there any moonlight in this godforsaken place, I could see the source of the noise through the cockpit window. But there is no moon. A month I have been here, and still no moon! I am starting to believe that I am no longer on earth at all, but somewhere else entirely. Some realm forgotten by God and the natural world; a realm where evil lives. But I must hold on. I will hold on. I will wait for the others to return.

Friday, May 9, 2002

            I am afraid this will be the last entry in my journal. I cannot hold on and I have waited too long for the others to return. For anyone who may one day happen upon it, know that I waited as long as I could. I waited for the others to return with help, but I could not make it any longer. The noises haunt me too much now. I must escape this place. I would try to walk to safety, but I know that Daniel would never make it, and I know that he will not let me go alone. I’ve used the last of the supplies from the medical kit to poison Daniel’s fruit. He will die quickly, I hope. As for me, I will use Tommy’s makeshift spear to end my life. To silence the noise. I’d rather do that than go crazy. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Sunday, May 11, 2002

            I, Gerard Rafferty, am making the final entry in this journal. We found the writer, who we have identified as Kathlene Parker, grasping this journal as she sagged on a spear that she had driven into herself. She appears to have fashioned it by hand. The remains of one of the survivors who died shortly after the crash sits near her with fruit smeared on what is left of his face. The flight’s passenger manifest lists him as one Daniel Allen, 72 yrs old. He appears to have been dead for over a month, though Ms. Parker has only been dead for a few days.  

The doctor who contacted us, one David Soong, told us that Ms. Parker refused to come with them because she did not want to leave the body behind. According to him, she attacked them when they tried to bring her forcibly. He and the students told her that they would send help. It seems that help arrived too late. As for Tommy, who is mentioned extensively here, we did not find his name on the passenger manifest. Dr. Soong has confirmed that only Ms. Parker and the late Mr. Allen were left behind.
<center>The End</center>

 

Left Behind (continued)

Thanks to Colin and Marc, I had an excellent 22nd birthday yesterday. On top of getting fooled by the pancake mystic at IHOP, seeing the amazingly entertaining "Mean Girls", and then experiencing the funniest "happy birthday" at the beginning of our meal at the Thai restaurant, I also got a very nice assortment of gifts from my baby. I also have to thank Malcom, Johnny, and Jason, without whom Thai food just would not have been the same. :-) Now onto the story (4 parts today). . .

Sunday, April 13, 2002

Tommy has begun hunting, or so he says. He disappears for long periods during the day, and comes back right before nightfall empty-handed. Daniel and I still eat the fruit from the trees, and luckily, there looks to be enough left to sustain us for some time.

The night noises have not gone away. If anything, they’ve gotten worse. Daniel, or course, sleeps through them; he can’t hear them. But I stay awake through most of the night. Tommy pretends to sleep; he even snores. But I know he’s awake. In the eerie darkness of the cockpit, I can sense his uneven breathing and subtle shifts in bodyweight. Sometimes I can sense him watching me, imagining strange things about me. I don’t know what he plans to do, but his behavior is starting to worry me. I wish David and the others would come back. Soon.

Thursday, April 17, 2002

Tommy didn’t come back last night. Daniel doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s still sitting, as usual, looking at the sky. I hate to admit it, but I was scared when Tommy didn’t return. Not for myself, of course, but for Daniel. What if something were to happen to me? Tommy is the only other person who could look after Daniel.

The noises were the worst last night that they’ve been since the crash. I didn’t sleep at all. I stared at the empty space by the cockpit door, imagining Tommy sitting there, doing what he did best; watching me. It was comforting, but eerily unsettling at the same time. At times, I could swear that he was really there, but then I remembered that he hadn’t come back, and I would look out of the front windows into the moonless sky. Every night that I stay in this place, I know I’m moving closer and closer to insanity. I pray that we are rescued soon, for my sake and for Daniel’s.

Tuesday, April 22, 2002

There have been no signs of Tommy since he disappeared several nights ago. I fear that the night noises may have gotten him. I ventured out a little further from the airplane today, calling his name and looking for tracks. Not that I knew how to track a person in the wild, but I felt there had to be some clues as to where he had gone. I found his makeshift spear in one of the bushes. I know now that he is not coming back. Daniel and I are on our own.

Thursday, May 1, 2002

I saw Tommy today! I was out picking fruit, and I heard a rumbling in the bushes. I crept closer to see what it was, and saw a man hunched over, picking at something on the ground. I could tell from the back that it was Tommy, so I called his name. He looked back at me; but something was different about him. He had aged; a lot. I reached out for him, but he drew back from me. I stepped closer, but he turned and ran. I called his name for hours after he disappeared into the foliage, but he did not respond or reappear. I don’t know how long I stood before I realized what he had been picking at. It was a dead bird whose head had been totally crushed. Its beak stood open, its black marble eyes staring at nothing. The bright blue and yellow feathers of its body would have been beautiful if not for the head. I’m sure that Tommy killed it, and he was going to eat it without telling us. I knew we couldn’t trust him. I brought the bird back to the clearing outside of the plane to cook for me and Daniel. It’s almost done now. I have not tasted meat in so long, I can hardly wait. Daniel does not show his excitement, but I know he’s as giddy as I am.

I no longer wish for Tommy to come back. I know that we owe our meal tonight to him, but I cannot trust him anymore. Who knows what else he is capable of? I will sleep with his spear tonight, in case he returns. I won’t allow him to hurt Daniel. . . or me.

Tune in tomorrow for more. . .

Left Behind

I took a creative writing class this semester in which I wrote two short stories. Since, frankly, the news has been kinda slow lately, I've decided to post my second story, "Left Behind" for the whole world (well, maybe more like 10-15 people) to see. Why have a blog if you can't use it for a little shameless self-promotion, right? Anyway, since this story is written in a journal format, I'll post a different journal entry each day (don't worry, this shouldn't extend beyond a week). Enjoy!

Friday, April 11, 2002

There’s still been no word from the others. The first night that they didn’t return, I was scared. But in the three days since, I’ve accepted that it may take some time. The rest of us have stayed near the plane, for all the good that’s done. When we lost the right wing in the crash, most of the right side of the plane went with it, so it offers little shelter. The three of us that are left huddle in the cockpit at night for safety. Safety from what, none of us know.

Right after the crash, there were six of us still alive. Seven if you count the kid, but he didn’t make it past the first day. Neither of the pilots survived, so none of us knew where we were; we still don’t. All we know is that it’s hot and we’re in a jungle of some type. David, the doctor, thought we were close to a city. He was the most level-headed one in the group. I think we would be better off if he were still here, but he left with the others to find help.

Chris and Jenna, the college kids, went with him. I wanted Jenna to stay; I didn’t want to be the only woman left, but she wanted to stay with Chris. I can only imagine why they’ve been gone so long. I figure it has something to do with the noises. We’ve heard strange noises every night that we’ve been in this god-forsaken place. They’re far away, but close. They’re faint, but in the silence of the night, they’re loud enough to keep us awake for hours. We don’t know where they come from.

Tommy, the youngest of us, has taken it upon himself to be in charge. He sleeps closest to the door of the cockpit so that he can “take care” of us. He gets stranger by the day, but I put up with him for the sake of Daniel. Daniel looks to be at least 70 years old, but he can’t hear or speak. The woman he was traveling with, who I assume to be his wife, died in the crash. During the day, I scratch messages into the dirt, but he seldom responds. Most of the time he just looks at the sky and rocks back and forth. Since he won’t talk, I usually make up words for him and talk to myself as if he were talking to me. We’ve had conversations about home, politics, religion, and family. We even talk about Tommy.

Tommy spends most of the day worrying about food. Once the meals on the plane ran out, we began to eat fruit from the nearby trees. He was fine with that for a while, but lately he’s been talking more and more about meat. He’s making a spear with wood and metal from the plane, but I don’t think it will do him any good. The only animals we’ve seen since the crash are birds, and birds don’t stand still long enough to be speared. I don’t say anything though, because it keeps him busy. And the busier he is, the less I have to worry about him.

. . . tune in tomorrow for another installment. Oh, and as always, feel free to comment.