Give Me the Old Dominion

I'm a Virginian by birth. I love that fact. And in VA, we love our colleges. Not for their sports per se, we just love 'em. UVA, JMU, William and Mary, Mary Washington, Washington and Lee, George Mason, heck, even Radford. But I was raised to love Virginia Tech, even when they beat Syracuse 64-0 in that football game in fall of '99. Why love Tech?
My mother went to Tech.
My father went to Tech.
My stepfather went to Tech.
Two cousins went to Tech.
And ex boyfriend? Yup. Tech.
Brother-in-law? Tech.
Best guy friend? Tech.
About 60% of my high school graduating class: Tech.
Like it or not, I'm a Hokie by proxy. What happened today...just...wow.
Trying to get updates on where all my old high school kids are, praying the LoCo Hokies are accounted for and a-ok. A strange day of gathering voices like manna.
I talked to my friend Carey, who is on part-time Young Life staff in Radford, just north of Blacksburg. All of her co-leaders are Tech students and her area director has been frantically trying to account for all her leaders. Some are still missing. One was shot in the leg. Carey asked me, "I have club tonight. I have to go out and distract these high school kids; go on like always. How?" I didn't have an answer.
I don't think anyone does.


Sic Semper Tyrannis
(Thus always to tyrants. The Commonwealth's motto.)

Patty, part II

Umm yeah...that's Patty Griffin with her arm around Kelly Clarkson.
The joy that radiated from the cockles of my heart at the mere sight of this photo could have warmed a small country. I mean, really.

When it Don't Come Easy

Saw Patty Griffin at the Orange Peel last night. Hadn't seen her in concert in ten years or so, and she is a truly great live show. The problem was the crowd. The last time I saw her, no one knew who she was; she was just another chick singer-songwriter with a guitar. I mean, when I first saw her in '96 she was opening for Shawn Colvin and didn't even have an album out, just a demo tape (which I still have). No one paid attention to her, but I was mesmerized. When I saw her in '98 (or was it '99?) she was playing second stage at Lilith Fair and it was a similar experience. I was transfixed while the world kept moving.
This was a sold out show at the Orange Peel, and the people who were around me were chatty and slightly obnoxious. If I could have shot lasers out of my eyes, I would have. If ever there was a show to not talk through, it'd be Patty Griffin. Or even in the spaces between the songs; if you are laughing loudly or giggling about a date between songs like "Mary" and, oh, "Florida" then you deserve to have something large shoved in your mouth. Hopefully permanently. You destroy the experience for everyone else. I expected more from the crowd because she was the main act; she was the reason people were standing there. Smoke may have been pouring out my ears.
Couple that with attempting to stand for 5 hours straight and the subsequent searing pain running the length of my body and I was a chipper morning daisy. I am once again reminded that being on my feet for that long is not something I am capable of doing. I could feel the muscles in my shoulders and back tightening so much I feared my right arm would pop out of socket (again). That was a frustrating and disheartening revelation.
But Patty was amazing. If ever you have the opportunity to see her live, take it. she's worth every penny.

Motion Sickness

kinetosis: agitation caused by the disparity between the feeling of movement and the visually perceived inertia. Your body says you are moving, your eyes say nothing has changed. Motion sickness.
I've never suffered from it before this trip, and as I reflect it seems a fair metaphor for this particular adventure.
I'm back from a blitzkrieg of a trip, beginning last Thursday when I left my apartment at 5am and stopped traveling around 8pm. It was such an occasion that was full of more laughter and memories than should be allowed in such a compact denomination of time; it was a trip for the ages. There are too many stories to retell.
At the same time, my reflective side can find bits of pensiveness in the most gleeful of places.
Friday I went back to my college campus for the first time in close to four years, and it was the very definition of kinetosis; a place I knew intimately, home to some of the most seminal moments in my brief life, and yet the characters were all strangers, things were out of place, it was the same place but fundamentally different. I walked by my old house and I didn't know the cars the driveway. I stopped outside by ex-boyfriend's house and there was nothing to suggest he was ever a resident. It's like four years were erased off the canvas to which they were painted.
Those four years play out every year, in thousands of lives, doing the same things I did, walking the same places I walked, butting up against the berms of convictions and expectations, discovering the same secrets and stories, the sheer newness of constant chaos. That house saw decades before and will see decades later. I forget that life goes on without me.
I can't tell if that comforts me or not.

(The Mopalopshop, ol' 913 Lancaster, the day I moved out for good.)

Soaking It In

So I did have to go get checked out to make sure I didn't break anything by falling hard a whopping 3 feet or so. News flash: I didn't break anything. But I did get to spend the morning at Sisters of Mercy getting x-rays and anti-inflammatories so alls well that ends well. They managed to check me out and tell me I was fine without ever actually touching me. Anyone else find that odd? Made me a little self conscious...like do I smell? Have a flesh-eating bacteria no one has told me about just yet? Unsightly body hair?
Yesterday was my first day off in 9 days, so it was not only necessary at that point, it was close to vital. I was broken and TIRED. Yesterday afternoon four of my friends and I went up to Hot Springs, NC for an hour soak in, well, the hot springs. It was worth the $10/person. We had enough time to change into dry clothes and skip on down to the Brew n' View to watch Ben Stiller's "Night at the Museum" which I had no inclination to see except it cost $2 and goes well for a dinner and movie situation. Funnier than expected. Back to West Asheville to drop off some of the troops before a discussion of what next. After debate, we headed to East Asheville to the Root Bar to play some much-hyped rootball. Rootball is like a mixture between horseshoes and bocce and is very addictive, even though it seems to be something formulated out of two dog chew toys and a horseshoe pit. Awesome.
All in all it was a wonderful last free Saturday til October. Ugh, that's nuts to say.