Beaten. If I had to describe how I feel in one word it would be beaten. I have driven between seven and nine hours a day for four days straight. And what was the destination? A there and back again trip with an eight hour pause for a funeral. Don't misunderstand, I have no regrets about going. It was the right thing to do and what's more important, it might have helped someone. But I am weary. In my marrow I am weary. Sitting in a car is tireing, and funerals are the most emotionally draining things in my experience.

Is it too late for me to say I lost mind?
Can I rebuild my world one piece at a time?
And now I'm letting go.
And now I'm letting go.
Can I find the courage that it takes to say good-bye.

I hate them. Funerals, that is. Everyone in their right mind hates them. My comfort with them is forced. And now that I have seen many different versions, I find that at every one I begin to think about mine. Would I do this? Who would speak? What music would be played? Is a funeral for the departed or those who mourn? I don't think that I would like to have traditional hymns played at my funeral. If there is a service to honor me, I would like music that has meaning for me. Dirt, by Phish. One, by U2. Something like these.
I truely like what Uncle Dick did. At the end of the service there were two songs played. The Scorpions' The Winds of Change was played for him, and finally he had With a Little Help from My Friends played for everyone there. A nice touch, and an inspired one.

These thoughts are too morbid and darken the blue sky of a perfect Athens day. But the feelings from the memorial are still near... Good-bye and Hello, as always.

I can bear it all except the thought of seeing his mother. What do I say?
I'm fine, I'm normal. I shouldn't be. I should be devastated. How can I be normal and fine after this?
His sister will take it hard. She's a strong person, but very emotional; empathetic. She's a wreck, I'm sure.
And his wife. She has to stay calm, she can't get overly emotional, the unborn child depends on her.

My family has walked over a broken mirror, in front of a black cat, underneath a ladder, with an open umbrella, indoors, on the thirteenth day of the month. What kind of family doesn't measure time by 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002; but by the year who died? Perry Westbrook, Sir Dick New, Margaret New, and now Chris Burton.

Fine was the wrong word. I don't feel fine, I just make myself feel fine. I'm truely all numb. A little shocked, a little scared, a little sad. But really only numb.
I really wish that I had been a little bit older so that I could have gotten to know him better. He was always just one of my older cousins. By the time I can clearly remeber, he was out of High School and only around once in a while. We never really connected until the last couple of years once I was out of High School.

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you feel the same if I saw you in Heaven?
I must be strong and carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven ......

Would you hold my hand if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you help me stand if I saw you in Heaven?
I'll find my way, through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay here in Heaven .....

Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart, have you begging .... please ...

Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure.
And I know there'll be no more tears in Heaven .......

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you feel the same if I saw you in Heaven?
I must be strong and carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven .......
-Eric Clapton

Good Bye, Chris. The demons are gone. Go with the peace you gave yourself.

More than anything, I think it pains me to see a friend make a bad decision. Especially right in front of me. I don't care if it's due to over-indulgence, lack of thinking, or simply bad luck; it hurts to watch. I always want to jump in and change their mind, or distract them. Anything to save them. But I almost never do. I always end up watching them walk away and thinking that it's their life. It is in situations like this that my roommate will step back and say, "It's their hell, let them walk in it." I can't think like that. I would rather turn them away from the hell, or at least walk through it with them if there is no other way. Things never seem to play out that way, though. They end up walking through the hell alone and I am damned to sit and watch them walk away, and then wait for them to come out wronged on the other side. I don't know which is worse, the watching them leave or the waiting for them to return....

Scenario: You're sitting and talking to your friend, enjoying yourselves. A third friend, a girl, comes in and you all start to talk. Soon your two friends are side by side and they decide to head to her room to "talk" because they don't want to disturb you..... All you can do is wait for them to finish and then be there when your friend sobers up and regrets what he did.

Scenario: You are sitting in a bar. Your friend has matched you drink for drink, but is somehow far drunker than you. You ask them to stop, or at least slow down. But they insist on one more round, and you don't try to stop it. They have their shot and begin to dance, twisting their ankle in the process. And by this point they are far too drunk and belligerant to do anything other than follow as they walk all the way home..... You just have to ice their leg in the morning to abate the swelling.

Why do both of those involve alcohol?

Scenario: Two mutual friends are dating each other and happy. One friend is out with you for dinner and has had a hard week; and you sit and watch him light up a cigarette, a habit he promised to break in the relationship. And the next time you see them both together she feels lied to and he feels misunderstood. And not only is the relationship over, but even their friendship is forever severed.

I despise myself for every time I must have done something like that; but even more wish that, whenever a friend opts poorly, that I could take their place.

I haven't been very club active so far at UGA. Not that I was much in High School either. I think I did Interact for a couple years, I was drama club senior year, I may have even been in Beta Club freshman year, I honestly don't remember. Up here, though, I do almost less organized activity. Last year I started up with the newly formed Disciples on Campus. This year, along with continuing with DOC, I've also gotten heavily into Watchdawgs.

Watchdawgs began Spring 2001 as a community service group with one goal: Giving free, safe rides home on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. I had a couple of friends who helped out it's first semester, so at the beginning of this year, I jumped on as well. My goal was simply to help people. I hadn't been doing much philenthropic work since I left the Youth Group at Peachtree, and I missed it. What I found though, was that I really enjoyed Watchdawgs itself. So now I've been doing this all year; once a weekend, sometimes twice. The great part about it is that I do it enough so that everybody knows me, but I've avoided getting into the executive / political end of it.

I didn't work last night, I went downtown and got drunk instead. I wasn't going to take Watchdawgs, I had a ride, but I went down to where they run downtown opperations from just to say Hi. I didn't know the two guys who were running the show, but both of them knew me. This was one of the greatest validations for me. But even with this compliment, I still have the ability to step back and remove myself from Watchdawgs when I need to. Most of the people I'm friends with in the organization are the captains. The people who are on the inside. And as much as they love working with Watchdawgs, there are always times when they get so sick of it that they're ready to quit. I've been in a couple of groups where I felt that way and I never want to do it again. With power comes responsibility and with that comes the inability to step back and retain yourself.

I enjoy Watchdawgs too much to get deeply involved.

Strangely, I've started to get feedback on this thing by now. Everything from "Man, you inspired me to be profound," and "I couldn't have said it better myself," to things more akin to "Mindlessly philosophical," and "It sounds like you're trying to be deep." And all of it is great. I'd like to say thank you I'll take it under consideration, but Ryan and I had a long talk about responses and criticisms last night, and agreed that you shouldn't change to or from what other people think. I still find that it's impossible and foolish to ignore it completely, though.

I've been noticing that lately too. Whenever I get into an argument with someone, especially Ryan, it always ends up as a stalemate. Or at least I never budge more than a few inches. We'll talk for hours and both just rephrase what we say a thousand different ways. I used to think that I didn't inherant all of the stubborness from my father and mother. Megan surely has it in large measures... but now I can kind of see where I'm thick-headed. I'm easy going when it comes to decisions or what's on the radio. My stubborn tendancies are towards philosophy and theory. Ideas. Anything abstract I will argue all day and night, it's only the practical things which I am indifferent to.