Where do people get their inspiration? Everyone needs to be inspired now and again, so where do they get it. Do they look at nature, or at their family and friends? I'm sure countless people find their inspiration in the Bible, Torah, Koran, Vedas, etc. Maybe some people read poetry to become inspired. Maybe there are those who simply look inside themselves, or at their accomplisments for encouragement. But how about the artists and heros. The people who write the adages and compose the music. Where does Gandhi find his stimulation. Or even farther back. Where did Jesus look to become enthused. I'm sure people like that must have felt down or empty at some point in time. How do you inspire most of the Western World's source for inspiration?

It's such a pain in the ass too. One minute you feel completely ordinary and then you listen to Morgan Freeman in the Shawshank Redemption. Or you hear the I Have a Dream speech. And all of a sudden you feel like you can go out and move the world with any size lever you want. But you look for some way to make some difference and so you don't find one. And like any good drug, the feeling of illumination fades away and you revert to normality. But as soon as that happens, the chance comes up to make a difference. Not to end war or solve world hunger. Not to smack Greenspan or assasinate W. But to make a person smile. To do something ordinary in an extra ordinary fashion.

"When I was young my mother took me on her lap and said to me, "Elwood, In this life you must be oh-so smart or oh-so very pleasant." For years I was smart; I recommend pleasant." -Jimmy Stuart, Harvey

Damn the game and everyone who enjoys playing it. Not just any game... The Game.

Hypothetical: My friend tells me that this girl likes me. So I look at her and all of a sudden I like her. So I start to talk to her and flirt with her. Now she does either one of two things. She either flirts back or she doesn't. If she flirts back, it could mean that she likes me, or it could mean that she's playing with me. If she doesn't it could mean that she doesn't like me, or it could mean that she likes me but is playing hard to get. But then we have girl number two, the one I really liked originally, but I don't flirt with her, because it isn't in the rules to flirt with girls you really like.

Damn it all. And the worst part is that I'm so involved in The Game's philosphy of guessing and double-guessing everyone around me and their motives, that I can't even condemn it without more than a touch of hypocrasy. Why doesn't honesty work? Other than the obvious, that people would get their "hearts-broken" left and right, isn't that better than the semi-endless agony of not knowing anything for sure? It all goes back to the courting and chivallry rituals of medieval times. It's rude to give the peasant woman who loves you and whom you love a flower, but it is proper to go out and fight dragons for the lofty princess who has 10 knights all doing the same thing already. I swear women pull all of the strings. Any time a woman is upset about love, it's either her pulling a string on one of her puppets, or one of her guy-marionettes finally cutting his string. Or maybe finally just hanging himself with it.

One of my Uncle Dick's, Sir Dick the Great and Godlike as he liked to be called, favorite sayings was "If you can't have at least a giggle a day, then it isn't much of a day." He was a little bizzare like that, but if you think about it, it's really sound advise. I really wish I had picked up more from him while I had the chance, because I think the two of us have amazingly similar philosophies. I was talking with Mom just before I moved out and she asked me what my goal in life was so far. And my answer to her was that I wanted to be able to look back on every week at the end of it and say that I did something fun that week. Or maybe even just something spontaneous. I would like to be able to surprise myself all of my life. To see a pretty girl and just go and kiss her cheek. To glimpse an elderly man and go talk to him for no reason. To walk out of my way and jump some fences because I've never been there before.

Because when it comes down to it. What good is a life wasted on making a living. You have a job in buisness because there is money in buisness. You have a condo or a house because you need somewhere to live. You drive a BMW because you can afford one. And then you retire and realize that you worked your whole life and didn't enjoy a damn minute of it. And for those of you who haven't gotten an answer yet; THAT is why I'm majoring in religion. Because I enjoy it. Because I don't really give a flying flip whether I have a million dollars or not.

Now I realize that completely living for the moment and not, say, studying or going to class, or working and having a career, is going to lead nowhere fast. But that doesn't mean that you can't find time for a giggle a day, maybe more.

I suppose some things change and others don't. Really deep thought, huh. Athens is awesome, still awesome. Just different. The city became a town now that I know what I'm doing and have a car. One of the mystical things about last year was that no one knew jack about where to go, or what to do. We were all blind and feeling our way one foot at a time. Hence there was never a grand scheme. "Plan, what for?" kind of mentality. That and the proximity. Everyone was right there in the dorms. This year, I don't know, it sort of feels like I'm older. If I want to hang with Matt, I call him and drive over there. I don't walk, and I don't have to ask for a ride. The thing of it is that I now have all of Athens accesible to me, so it loses some of it's mystic quality. Now if football would only start...

Actually, I really like having stayed on campus myself. This dorm room is the shiznit. Walkable to all my classes and to downtown, the meal plan (which I like), all the new freshmen girls around . Plus, the room has so much more space than last year. With the beds lofted so high, we seriously have twice the space for sitting, television, stereo, all of it.

"My cup runeth over"

I have absolutley nothing to say, and yet I still want to be there with them. I just spent the last 5 days with a few people, day in and day out, and I still want to talk. I don't have anything to say, but I want to talk. There is something comforting in having someone to sit and watch the stars with, even when there aren't any stars. And then to wake up the next morning and complain to the same person about how tired you are, even though being tired is worth it just to be there. To stay up until close to three when you haven't slept a full night all week, and have to wake up at seven, but to stay up all the same, talking; conversing; bonding.

Camp is hell. The bugs don't mind Off, the sun doesn't stop beating, the beds are humid and uncomfortable, and forgeting a piece of paper means a quarter mile walk. But Camp is a hell which I go back to every summer, twice a summer, three times a summer. We are all in the hell with one another, and that makes it all worth it all. I enjoyed the heat, the bugs, the sandy bunks because there were friends at every corner of every room. I would walk back and forth to the cabins just to keep a conversation going, or on the off chance that one might start up.

Brandon, Jason, Jerriod, Will, Mark, Tina, Brandy, Jennifer, Chris, Andrew, Meredith, and Bria: Thanks