Good to be home

Today marks the first time I've been in Charlotte since August 16th. Easily the longest period of time I've been away from home. Despite that, not much has changed. Physically. A lot has changed personally, but that's a depth that this blog won't explore. You'll have to hack my Word '08 archives and jack my monogrammed, leatherbound journal, a gift from Virginia, if you really wanna know. But at least on the surface, I'm greeted with familiarity.

My cousin dropped me off at On The Border this afternoon and I threw my supplies (guitar, textbooks, MacBook) into my dad's car. Then I was greeted with the tightest, warmest bear hug that only my dad can give me. It's always good to see my dad, and there's not much more I can say about that.

Went back to the apartment and a certain Miss Jones came by for a long-awaited rendezvous. The reunion was crisp and warm and the shivers still abound. Good to be back on the block with that chick.

I'm staying here at least for tonight. If I can find a ride going back toward Dubtown tomorrow I may hop on. Missed "Eddy's 21st Drunk-a-thon" back in Wilmsies tonight. The title's a bit misleading if you think about it (Is this really the twenty-first drunk-a-thon? Nay, it's Eddy's twenty-first birthday, but you probably assumed that), but C Woods assured me that it was an excellent bash. Sure, wish I could have been there, but sometimes, you just need family. And they need me. So you make do.

As it stands, I'm locked in to an early morning gym trip with Pops. Guy's a machine. It's 2:46 a.m. now. I think I'm gonna go slice up an orange, drink two Blue Moons, and pass out. Ah, good to be home.

Evac?

"Oh man, school at the beach, guess that means no snow days for you mwah mwah mwah!!! lala!!!" Well yes, that is true sir, but snow isn't the only type of inclement weather that calls for class cancellation. Can you say a little thing called 'Hurricane'? Namely, a bitch named Hanna, presumed to be closely followed by a mean older brother named Ike who just might ass rape you if you mess with his sis (Don't worry Ike! I wasn't planning on it! I heard she was kind of a bull dike!).

They issued some sort of 'voluntary evacuation,' whatever the fuck that means. The whole student body's dipsettin at any rate. I will join the mob, but my route won't end in the 704. I'll be taking a little trip to the state's capital where I'll hopefully be greeted with some old high school friends and have a grand ole time. I better. We're toting three handles of some of the finest booze known to man (Sophistafunk biatch) so we're going to be having fun with somebody. Hopefully it isn't aforementioned bull-dike Hanna, although I think she might be a bit hung over by the time she reaches Raleigh and just might have to sit her ass down.

So I guess we'll be coming back on Sunday, but then in all likelihood will be evacked again on Wednesday because of Ike. If that happens, I think I will go back to Charlotte. It's been awhile since I've been there and I have some people that are about to shit themselves if they don't see me. I couldn't stand being the cause of soiled britches, so I'll drop in. 

I bought a guitar a couple nights ago. No, I do not know how to play. But I really want to learn. It was 3:30a.m. and as usual, I was sitting at my computer. I began surfing. I went to Guitar Center's website. They had a great deal on what is supposedly a very nice guitar. I bought it. I really think I can learn. All it's going to take is some motivation. All I'm listening to is acoustic rock. I can't wait to get that thing. Hopefully it will be here before I leave for Raleigh. I would hate for it to get messed up in the 'cane. I still can't believe I bought it.

Read Kevin Canty's short story "Blue Boy" immediately if you are anything like me.

"The Thrill"...

I went to Chapel Hill this weekend and (thankfully) was not too impressed. The school that I had put on a pedestal for so many years during my childhood didn't hold nearly the same draw as it did when I walked around the business school with my dad one afternoon after a football game, or as it did when I went to my cousin's wedding at The Old Well. Sure, everything still seemed nice, but now that I was in college myself and could supply my own images of other schools, including my own, I realized that UNC wasn't all that great.

Walk anywhere on campus and you'll see endless construction. Walk by the frat court and you'll see tons and tons of white males out on their front lawns in matching tucked-in Polos and a pair of Costa del Mar sunglasses adorned with those queer "croakies" around their necks. Go a little past that and see hordes of very plain and (not-so-)innocent girls dressed in prim and proper dresses and the like walking around, hoping to make a good impression on various sororities for reasons unknown. It was all fine, just fine...if you're into that sort of thing.

Some of you might be saying "Ah you're just saying this because you're still bitter that you didn't get in." And you'd be partially right. I never really will recover from getting the immediate rejection. But at least now I know that I'm not missing much in "The Thrill," and that, at least for now, I am in the right place.