Bible.

He punished them even to ripping open all the pregnant women.
By day they shut themselves in; none of them know the light, for daylight they regard as darkness.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; Upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shown.
Now you have shown me what we asked of you, you have made known to use the king's dream.

Cursed is the deceiver, who has in his flock a male, but under his vow sacrifices to the Lord a gelding; For a great King am I, says the Lord of hosts, and my name will be feared among the nations.
He said in reply, "You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your being, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself."

And no wonder, for even Satan masquerades as an angel of light.
For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

Like obedient children, do not act in compliance with the desires of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, be holy yourselves in every aspect of your conduct, for it is written, "Be holy because I [am] holy."
The revelation of your words sheds light, gives understanding to the simple.

Then the Israelites asked, "Are there any among all the tribes of Israel who did not come up to the Lord for the assembly?"
But the Lord made Pharaoh obstinate, and he would not let them go.

Joseph is a wild colt, a wild colt by a spring, a wild ass on a hillside.
Majestic, glorious, renowned for splendor, a delight to the eyes, beauty supreme.

This is how I feel.

I feel like I don't have anyone to talk to anymore. Or that when I do I'm no longer interesting or entertaining.

It's very depressing. And I've become very silent. No writing. No creative output, in general. It's like I'm a living tomb of someone who tried to accomplish some significant interactions and got rejected and lost all will to try any further.

Day one.

"Flattened. That's what our culture is. It is flattened by the abundance of our media and our fluid access to it and ability to interact with it." My heart undulated in response to my professor's speech, heaving and sinking as he weaved the web that spanned backward into our cultural history, dragging it kicking and lurching into the open air and away from the vague darkness of common knowledge. "I don't believe in high art and low art anymore. I have no ability to discern between them. To me, a piece of art is a piece of art, and I take it as I see it." I sat in wide-eyed agreement, stirred beyond my own comprehension and immediately compelled to riot against the forces of idiocy. I had forgotten how much I loved him, but wouldn't be forgetting again anytime soon. It wasn't lust, though. It was academia. This man had rekindled my flame for it within minutes. Not out of the self-righteous pursuit to see my name printed across the cover of a haughty, barely comprehensible book, but because I wanted to be apart of an academic history of theory. I wanted to be apart of the Vortex, but I had never wanted to master it. But the prospect had presented itself in my mind before I could deny it. I wanted to become its master. Master of the cultural Vortex, a god-like being capable of connecting any cultural icon to thousands upon thousands of other relatively insignificant cultural icons at the drop of the hat. Infinitely interesting and confounding. To be all-knowing and all-seeing without the pressure of providing a response to anyone. My weight shifted in my seat. I wanted to follow the cliched desire to destroy and create. I wanted to deserve my victory.

As soon as the moment had passed, so had the class, and I shuffled out amongst the sea of undergraduates feeling like a predator whom was capable of lashing out at any moment in unforeseen and unmatched brutality, but I was heading toward a class that forced me to contemplate my own mortality. Visions of cadavers that were being monitored in natural settings for days, weeks, months in various climates. Rotting flesh and the microorganisms that make it all happen. Mold. Mice. One's own body. Bloated stomachs and greying flesh. Pooled, congealed blood resting at the bottom of the body cavity against the damp earth. Bottle flies who laid their eggs on the surface and their young, hungry maggots covering the toughening flesh. I was resting my upper body despairingly across the table's surface, trying to remain unseen to the 29 other people in the room. I'm interesting and well-deserving of your attention, but I don't want it. You're all at the beginning of this journey and I am very near the end and have nothing to say to you unless you ask me very specific questions. Even then, my tongue is tied around my future, and I am unable to express it. A Joycian artist on the verge of brilliance but failing to just make it happen. There is a waiting game afoot and I feel very unwilling to play it, but have no other way of approaching my current state. My heart is in my potential greatness, but there is a very specific way in which I must approach this and haven't yet.

I haven't done it yet, and that's what I must do.

Back to the grind. Lucy awoke from her nap to find that the vacation was over.

Eric typed a scathing response to another disgruntled reader. He was trying to save them from themselves. Didn’t they understand?

Don was dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it. But there was a storm coming.

I’ve got me a movie I want you to know.

2010.

While I might be scared and still totally unsure of what I'm going to do, I know that I am very, very excited about the future.

Currently, choices include:

1.) Moving to Seattle with Gizmo and taking the biggest chance of my life on it. There's no guarantee of a job and getting out there would require me to spend all my money. There is the chance of getting stranded out there and completely failing, which is completely terrifying to me. My parents would not be able to financially help me out if I got stuck out there.

2.) Moving to Chicago by myself. While also very risky, it'd still be close and I'd feel much safer because of that. Being four hours away from home would be very comforting. Plenty to do and see in Chicago, but no guarantees of finding a job. I would settle for working in a Burger King or something.

3.) Moving to Louisville by myself. Less of a safety net than Chicago, because at least I'd know some people in Chicago. But Louisville has a lot of character and, again, it has plenty going on for itself as well as a big artsy community. And it's warmer than Chicago. Again, no guarantee of finding a job.

4.) Living at home amongst all my possessions in a small room for a year, spending my time working a low-end job and studying for the GRE, taking the GRE, then going back to Bloomington for SLIS in the fall of 2011. Benefits include no rent, a bed, free food, family and dogs. Downsides include lack of real world experience, living in Fort Wayne for another year of my life, and possibly being unable to find a job because Fort Wayne is a black hole in which people stay forever (so I'd be battling all age groups and levels of experience in finding a job...anywhere).

5.) All of 4. except moving out of state and going straight for the kill in my eventual PhD in CMCL at a different university.

6.) Other.