After the party it's the Waffle House...

No, seriously, after the party it really is the Waffle House. Ludacris wasn't lying. After a friendly get-together at one of the MPA's abode, a few of us set out for that beacon of light in the midnight sky - the Waffle House. Or, as I like to call it, the Waffle Hizzy. Or, as the locals call it, the WaHo. There really is nothing quite like a pecan waffle at 12:45 in the morning inside a Waffle House. Did you know there's a method to ordering hash browns as well? Apparently, you use terms like "chunked", "stacked", "gagged", etc. (just kidding about "gagged") All I know is that my friend spat out a mess of verbiage that meant nothing to me and he was soon awarded a plate of hashbrowns stuffed with ham, onions, and covered with cheese. It made me think of In N' Out's secret menu...oh, how I miss it...(soft weeping)

Meanwhile, the official opening to the college football season draws nearer. I'll refrain from talking to much about the actual game, as my excitement levels are definitely in the unhealthy range. Of more pressing concern to you and I is the real issue (at least here in the blessed South): tailgating. Literally, there will be people up at 6:00 AM on game day to start tailgating. Which really means to start drinking. But who am I to judge? Anyway, there are a number of other things that go on at tailgates, so I'm told - eating, [more drinking], impromptu games of catch, [more drinking], general obnoxiousness and tomfoolery, etc. (punctuated with a little more booze). The aftermath, other than wicked hangovers and regrettable decisions, is something like this: Note the location of this mess - campus. Yes, friends, the University of Georgia doesn't have an open container law on campus, meaning that many a drunken alumni will be stumbling around old stomping grounds, making outrageous claims, and attempting to grope coeds. Can't wait for Saturday.

Oh yeah, there's a game too. We here at UGA have the noble bulldog as our beloved mascot. The current incarnation of our mascot is named Uga VI. Apparently, Ugas I-V have passed on - God rest their canine souls. Uga VI is still going strong, and apparently his predecessor (aptly named Uga V) was a surly old chap. The best part about it all is that photo lives on in UGA infamy, cherished only slightly less than the annual Civil War reenactment at Stone Mountain (just kidding...at least, I can't substantiate the reenactment claim. I just thought it'd make the story better). The moral of the whole story is that at an SEC football game, anything can happen. And it probably will. More stories to come, to say the least.

Missing you all much.

A boy and his iBook

Sitting in the law library. It's one of those places where one of the walls is completely glass windows. I look outside to find we're enwrapped in greenery. Benches and grass, and I'm wondering why I'm not out there, barefoot.

For now, "Understanding & Managing Public Organizations" will have to wait. I'll note, however, (per my need to namedrop) that the text is one of the most widely used books on the subject in the country. And it was written by my professor. How desperate am I, to buoy myself on the accomplishments of others? Apparently quite.

I saw Carlos Mencia perform last night at Legion Field. Carlos is a comedian who takes great pride in his racial/ethnic/gender-disregarding comedy. Offensive? Highly. Entertaining? Yes. You can see him on Comedy Central's "Mind of Mencia", though I'll venture to assume (having never seen the show) that it's significantly less offensive than what I witnessed last night.


Went out with a few fine folks (what horrific alliteration) last night but didn't take any pictures. Can we all not agree that random photo snapping is just a little awkward? On the other hand, I know I'll be glad in the future to have swallowed my pride and captured these moments. But it's just so un-natural. Taking pictures of inanimate objects - much less sketchy on an interpersonal level. Or perhaps there needs to be a proper level of friendship before candid photos can be allowed. In support of those two thoughts, I submit the following evidence. Enjoy.

A tendency to start fires

I walked to the Student Learning Center this morning, hoping to commandeer a nice, leather chair (preferably near a wall outlet for my trusty iBook). Instead, I was greeted by chaos. Naive to think I'd find a space (and a little peace)? Yes, entirely. But, I did have enough sense to decide against driving through campus. It's a start.

(the SLC in it's better, more carefree moments)

The most unfortunate side effect of a campus full of coeds is that in rouses in me a deep desire to...fight. Yes, I know what I just said. Listen, I'm a fighter, plain and simple. Andy, Shawn, and Jeremy can attest to this - either because they've seen me want to fight someone(s), or (and embarrassingly) I've attempted to fight them. What can I say? The point is that with a gaggle of slack-jawed, bushy haired Southern (ahem) gentleman cavorting around campus, I find myself battling a simmering rage. Except replace the word "battling" with "embracing".

Then, to compound my problems, it takes a good twenty minutes for the UGA football tickets website to allow me to register. I'm quite certain that we'll all find there weren't enough season tickets for all of us, meaning we'll all get two or three game packages. Meaning I'll likely end up seeing Western Kentucky, the University of Alabama-Birmingham, and Vanderbilt. Conveniently, however, I can transfer my frustration over all this onto the aforementioned coeds, as the upperclassmen had first dibs on tickets.

At this point, I ought to excuse myself. It's 10:47 a.m. already, and I've got too many fights left to pick. Top o' the morning!

Move Along

Wireless Internet, what a blessed gift you are. Gleaming white iBook, what a blessed gift you are. Five hundred dollars worth of textbooks for a mere three classes, what a...(excuse me for trailing off. After a convulsing, obscenitiy-laden fit, the security guards had to hose me down.)

So, Athens is pretty much beautiful. I think I've well enough established my dear love for Phoenix and Arizona. Sometimes I think that others just can't understand the kind of connection I share to my home. All of that sentiment ought to underscore then just how amazing Athens must be for me to be willing to sing its praises. But, consider: moms-and-pops restaurants as far as the eye can see, a whole community converging onto the downtown scene, a campus adorned with towering oaks and winding pathways. There's awfully little to quibble with.

I have three classes this semester: Research Methods, Public Administration & Democracy, and Organizational Theory. I'm quite excited, excluding the frustratingly high textbook tab. I start class no earlier than 3:30 on two of the days and not until 7:00 on the other. This is definitely going to be different than undergrad. And by different, I mean to say "freaking awesome".

Oh, random note - for those of you who might be interested, a friend of mine from class is sharing a house with the girl half of Iron & Wine. Name-dropping? Absolutely. But, c'mon, that's pretty sweet. So, in a few weeks when Tucson's very own Calexico rolls into town, they'll be sleeping on my friend's couches and floors. Already, Athens lives up to it's musical-Mecca reputation.

A few more travel pics...

Desperate times call for haircuts.

No, seriously, I need a haircut real bad. The shaggy thing doesn't work so well in 75% humidity. Of course, most would argue (and probably successfully) that the shaggy thing never works out real well. But that is neither here nor there.

Some more pictures for you all. I've got nigh a hundred already, so I can keep this going a while. I'll attempt to capture the Athens nightlife this weekend, permitting it all stays G-rated. Which might be wishful thinking. C'mon, what part of most-bars-per-capita do you not understand?

Anyway, enjoy.

like a stone on the old plantation

The insect life are singing their song here in the late evening heat. If you could sit on this bench beside the lamplit walkway. Pant legs rolled up of course - it's the Southern way, or at least cliche dictates so. If Bruce Hornsby was whispering into your ear stories about valley roads, music on the range, an old plantation... If your t-shirt clung to your skin and your hair matted down onto your forehead... If antebellum columns loomed across the green... Maybe then you'd feel within you that stir of romantic excitement that has so accompanied me during the start of this post.

I am blessed to find myself in the company of many fine fellow students. I feel quite confident in the prospect of this place yielding good people, good friends, good souls who thirst for something much deeper than knowledge, something much more meaningful.

I sat in class this evening, mind adrift in the waves of a fantastically confusing presentation about enterprise archictecture. I thought about how tight things are here. People are in close proximity to each other. Businesses share office walls, and students gladly use the space above as loft housing. Out west, we have space. Or, we choose to use our space. There's space out here, too, but people seem to drift back toward each other. Funny how geography can so subtley influence the atmosphere of a community.

A few more pictures:

Day One: Complete

Back home after this the first day of our orientation. Already full of stories, but which to tell, and how to tell them in such a way that do them justice. Perhaps a little free-form, grammar-be-damned narrative. First rule of thumb: "spicy" food in Athens, or perhaps the South, is not really "spicy". Peppery, maybe. Pungent, sure. But not spicy. Second rule of thumb: if you don't wear boat shoes, deck shoes, "Sperries", or any variation thereof, you probably won't fit in so well. Consider me an outcast. Third rule of thumb: Georgia folk drink cheap beer. Should you value your lower digestive system, you will limit the amount of said cheap beer you imbibe.

You all ought really to go and download the song "The Valley Road" by Bruce Hornsby. But, for true effect, you have to find the live version with Bela Fleck. Blue-grassy goodness at its very finest. Good Lord, just download the entire "Scenes from the Southside" album. You can thank Bruce later.

I am still full of fear and hope. That's a funny little mixture, eh? But, so it is. Fearing failure or a season less satisfying than I yearn for. Hoping for fullness, two years of memories as intense as these Georgia August nights. It's difficult to sit in orientation, torn between the clutches of fright and the bursting open skies of hope. Ah, but I'll take it gladly, for it truly fits that adventure I so claim to have wanted.

A few more pics for your enjoyment. I'll keep 'em coming.

Greetings from Athens. 1,998 miles later. Stories to tell probably, but I'm more content to start here with a few pictures. Missing you all.