Saw III Under the Sun

One of my big plans for the weekend was to see Saw III. After swarming in my seat one year ago during Saw II, I thought "Sure, I can do this again". Carey(Not Cary Elwes from Saw I), Cassie and I caught a matinee showing for $5, while the sun was still shining. Watching a movie in broad day light is a bad idea for several reasons.

1. It does not prepare you for a dark, twisted, movie such as Saw in which body dismemberment hides around every corner.
2. Its just sacrilegious to see a horror movie during the day, they are filmed at night and thus should be viewed at night. Watching poor souls crawl around in a mangy basement for two hours and then stepping out onto the bright parking lot is going to give you a head ache.

Okay, I guess I don't have that many reasons. The point is that I was not in the right state of mind to see a horror movie and therefore got even more freaked out than normal. Saw is notorious for not easing its audience into the realm of gore and guts. The first scene is typically the worst, I've only seen the last two installments, but last year it started off with a guy who had to extract his eye in order to recover a key. Not to ruin the movie for those who haven't seen III yet, but the movie opens up with another victim ankle chained to a bath tub. Guess what happened?

10 minutes in and I was already sweating so badly that I had to remove my coat. I was about to spas out. Which reminds me, always go to a horror movie with someone who is wussier than you, because Carie and Cassie were as calm as could be in their seats next to me as I would look over in disbelief as they just sat there, eyes on the screen. Its no fun having the weakest stomach, there's no one to share your disgust with.

Great horror flick, even though the ending leaves a bit more to be desired. It would have been better had I seen it at night with a date or something.

Unwrap Me

In the collegiate tradition of Halloween, I dressed up for a frat costume party. It was a closed party and besides getting invited you also had to come in a costume. Sober security doubled in wardrobe malfunction police, you had to at least come through the door as a princess or ninja Turtle (Rafael and Donatello were there). I took the easy route, ribbons, wrapping paper, and a note from God. Yes, I was God's gift to Women.

It took me 5 minutes to put together, not including the run to the dollar tree for supplies. My friend Carey, who went as Scooby-doo, did most of the wrapping. First thing we did was the wrapping. It turns out the metallic red paper I bought was only 5 ft long and not the 15ft I thought I had seen on the packaging. So instead of going full body, I had enough wrap for one good turn around the middle. Next was the ribbon, neither of us could tie a ribbon so I just tied it around my waist and put one of those sticky bows on top. Last, and most importantly, was the gift tag which made the outfit. Carey helped me find and enlarge a Christmas gift card off the Internet, we erased the Christmas flare and printed it off.


The party itself was lamer than hell, but the costume went over well. Woozy girls would laugh and really appreciated the concept. After a couple of hours dancing and trying to stay out of awkward corners, Carey and I left and expelled our costumes. I loved that my costume was easily disposable.

I WAS A CARDINALS FAN

Hurrah, Hurrah; the St. Louis Cardinals are World Champs. Though it could easily be claimed that they had it coming after making it to the World Series twice in three years, this is truly an amazing feet. There really isn't anything special about them, besides Prince Albert and Cy Young winner Chris Carpenter. OK, well maybe they were well above average in endowment, but no where near the ranks of the Yankees or Red Sox in talent. They pulled this off the old fashioned way, team unity. They had an identity and everyone on the roster from Pujols to Yadier Molina, who was batting last during the season and moved up to 6Th during the NLCS, had a feeling of urgency to perform. Bench players such as "Guch" and Spezio, came up when needed and got the job done with as much passion as the starter. Aaron Miles, another bench rider, went over the top; almost straddling the dugout fence during a double play or potential home run. Being from Indiana, It's been a while since one of my teams have gone all the way; the last was the Pacers in 2000 when they got destroyed by the Kobe/Shaq dynasty. Being a National League Central fan, I followed the Cards all the way through the playoffs. It was fun to jump on the band wagon and have some feeling for each game. A week ago I was in Missouri when the Cardinals beat the Mets in the NLCS. Like my Missourian friend Adam, I am not a pure cards fan. He favors the KC Royals, being from Southern MO, and I follow the Reds on Fox sports Ohio. But for the three days that I crashed on his couch, we were both Card fans. The atmosphere was a lot of fun, I thrived off the energy. The DJ's came up with audio montages, the fountain in front of the state house spurted out red water and on my return home I spotted on an overhead bridge bearing "GO CARDS" in lights (Even the Missourian Buraucracy was in on it). I supported fellow Hoosier, third baseman Scott Rolen, and became familiarized with the third installment of MLB Molina's, Yadier. I mentioned this before, but Molina came through big for the Cards when it mattered the most. Need proof? Last game of the NLCS, Molina homers out to left and the Cardinals extended their season to the World Series. The youngster reliever Wainwright also came through in a big way. He delivered the final pitch for the Cardinals tonight, and was able to close out several key match ups.
In summary, it was a fun experience even though the Cardinals weren't really my team. Maybe Adam Dunn and the Reds will get it done next year? After all, the Tigers made it to the World series a year after their fellow ALC counterparts won the the thing.

Bombed A Speech

I bombed a speech today. It shreded to pieces in front of my eyes. I stumbled, I skipped over parts, and I threw together an ending in order to stay under the 6 minute time limit.

When class was over, I sprinted to get out of the building and officially remove my self from the experience. This gave me temporary relief, but inside I knew I had failed a large project. It haunted me the whole day. At lunch I tried taking my mind off it by reading the Let It Out section of the Indianapolis Star. I was supposed to get a package in the mail today from my Grandma, but it had not arrived and I continued on with my self pity. At my on-campus job, I had to work an extra hour in order to prepare the football team's press release for the upcoming game.

It wasn't until intramural football that I was able to release some of the tension. I usually don't look forward to football because every week I have to scrap together a team to play, but today was one of my better experiences. To take a second and self-promote, I had two touchdown catches and the only two interceptions in the game.

Eventually I was balanced out, but the speech has added to the million things that are stressing me out this week. So far I have been bombarded with things to do, and I look forward to my lightest day of the week, Wednesday. My Mom and Sister are coming down to visit tomorrow so that should help me calm down.

Reached From Above

Once in a while, I get the feeling that God is trying to reach me. I believe myself to be a spiritual man, but not a devout follower of Christianity, which I am probably most leaned towards. Now when I say "reach" I don't mean that Jesus came to me in the form of Fruit Loops during breakfast, its a much subtler form of communication. This is why it is so easy for me to over look when he is trying to reach me.

Take for example a situation last year, I had this feeling that God did not want me to buy Madden 06 for my Play Station. I forget how He tried to influence me, but nonetheless I had something inside of me telling me that I should not buy the game because it would result in disaster. I fought my intense "want" to buy the game for a couple of weeks, but I eventually gave in and bought it. I remember the feeling I had checking out from Sears, "I'm going to be smited for this, oh man, something bad is going to happen".

Well, nothing happened. I played season after season on franchise mode. I even created back stories to some of the made up players in the game during my Math Models class. I almost failed that class, so maybe there was an Earthly price to disobeying what God had in mind for me. However, other than that I had a magnificent year. From time to time, my decision would eat at me because I thought that God would no longer try to reach out to me.

This year I don't even have a game counsel in my dorm. Its not that I don't want to play video games, it just that some-how I don't have one. I think it was God's way of forcing his will upon me after disobeying him the first time. I can not possibly ignore him if their aren't any obstacles. Sometimes I feel that there isn't any quiet. I'm always in class, talking to friends, or listening to music. Even now I'm typing while listening to "Background" by Third Eye Blind. I need that quiet to concentrate on my spirituality and bring inner peace, but usually the only time I have absolute quiet is at night and by then I'm too tired and my prayers are disoriented and messy.

Today God tried reaching me again. This time it was through the music on my computer. I only have one Christian band on my Windows Media player, a band called Jars of Clay. As one who hates worship and most mixing of religion and music, I have come to respect what this band has put out because I feel they are honest in their song writing and don't aim to please believers with flowery bull-shit. Their song "Liquid" played back to back in different versions on my computer, the odds that out of 2,521 songs these two songs played made me believe that God was reaching out once more. I have a poppy version from their self-titled album and I have a stripped down version from one of their mix albums. Its a very intense look at the crucifixion of Christ. I know you're thinking "There's a pop version of this song?", yes there is, but I prefer the later version because it forces you to take the words to heart and question the validity of Jesus and the cross.

Unlike the example I gave about the video game, I wasn't given a concrete demand when I listened to the songs play. I think it was more like "Keep your eyes open for future events", maybe somethings on the way or maybe it was just a crazy coincidence.

Well my eyes are open now, and hopefully I can come through on this one.

"Liquid" by Jars of Clay

Arms nailed down,are you telling me something?

Eyes turned out,are you looking for someone?

This is the one thing,The one thing that I know.

Blood-stained brow,are you dying for nothing?

Flesh and blood,is it so elemental?

This is the one thing,The one thing that I know.

Blood-stained brow,He wasn't broken for nothing.

Arms nailed down,He didn't die for nothing.

This is the one thing,The one thing that I know.

A Farewell to Season II of Flava of Love

Last night concluded Season II of Flava of Love. Not usually a fan of reality TV, I sometimes get sucked in by obscure shows like the one Andy Dick had and "Who Wants to Be a Superhero?". However, I was not alone in my fascination with the crazy life of rapper flava flave and his quest to find his one and only true "ho". How else can you explain the demand for a second season, besides the fact that things didn't work out between Flave and the winner of season One.

I did not watch an episode of season one because I do not have cable here on campus, and watching an episode would have been too far out of the way. However, by the beginning of the school year several of my friends were regularly following Season II on Sunday nights and I decided to see what all the commotion was about. I'll admit, my preconceptions about the show were that this was too stupid even for me.

Unfortunately, the first episode I watched aired a week after the infamous "poop on the floor" incident. Despite this I was drawn in quickly. It was everything the bachelor should be, with none of the class. Flave flaunted around his house (I'm not sure if he owned it or was provided by the show) like a pimp and had all of his hos perform demeaning acts such as giving him lap dances and showing his buddies a "good time". As flamboyant as he was, Flave proved that he was reality TV material. Always having something to say and always speaking "from the heart". Flave was kind of a pig and childish, but he was "keep'n it real".

Last night, having become an avid fan, I felt like I knew who would receive the final clock. I voted for New York. Not because she was the truest and righteous of them all, which she wasn't, but because she just seemed to have a stronger connection with Flave's electric personality. Plus, why else would she have been brought back mid-season after being rejected in the first season. But after New York threatened Flava Flave's man-hood by trying to take command, she might have dug herself a grave.

I still believe that New York is Flave's counter part. The last scene from last night illustrates why. Instead of embracing the winner, Dilishis, he chose to fight with NY about why she was being rejected once again. Sparks flew, and this showed me that they were passionate for each other and Flave had made a huge mistake. If Dilishis was truly the one, Flave would not have wasted his time with New York, and would have greeted Dilishis with a tender kiss in the rain. I have a feeling we'll see her again in season III (please let there be a season III).

Now what am I to do with my Sunday nights? Homework? I'm really going to miss meeting down in Elaine's room and discussing Flave's love interests during commercial breaks. Now that I think about it, we all took the show too serious. Like when my friend Cassie told us that Flave had lost major cool points for voting off Bootz because she wouldn't put out. Bootz was my favorite on the show because she was vuluptuous, fun, and to top it off was a very classy lady. Upon being voted off she slyly presented Flave with a card with her phone number on it in case Flave "Changed his mind"

Good times.

Anything For A Home-made Breakfast

As I walked into my dorm room Tuesday night, Cory surprised me with a question. "How do you feel about eating a home-made breakfast tomorrow morning?" Not knowing where this was going I answered "Yeah, that sounds great". Turns out Cory was coaxing me into driving him home to Columbus to get his foot checked out. He had injured it during cage fighting practice, and could barely walk. I just so happened to catch Cory in the parking lot as I was on my way to the bank. I could tell he was in pain, and thought that he had done something serious this time.

As a faithful roommate I accepted the mission and took his car keys because his broken foot was also his led-foot. The plan was to have his mom, who's a nurse, check it out, go to a hospital if needed, and come back in the morning, where his mom would fix us breakfast. Because, I didn't have class till noon on Wednesdays, there was no scheduling conflict.

I headed ever so slowly down to the parking lot, as Cory gimped along. Columbus was a half hour drive, and I always get nervous when I'm driving someone else's car. The steering wheel bobbed up and down when I applied too much pressure, but it was a Grand Prix and had great acceleration. It could go 85 without me even noticing. Cory and I talked about girls on the way over, he's been in the dog house with his girlfriend Jessica because he is not "religious". I told him that religion is one of the easiest things to fake and if he wanted her back all he had to do was become a "Fistian" or Fake-Christian. But 'No Cory, believes in honesty, so I argued no further.

Cory's Mom, who lives alone now that her three children have grown up, had recently moved to Columbus from southern Brown County. It was 9:30 when we knocked on her door. She did not answer right-away, as we later found out she had fallen asleep. "What were you going to bed a 9 for" Cory asked as we made our way through the door. Cory explained his foot and then Ms. Mahon greeted me and thanked me for taking him home. Taking just one glance at the foot, she advised us to go to the hospital. Cory asked if she would make us breakfast in the morning. "That's kinda of how I got Sam to come". I tried to disprove this statement, but she told him that she had to be at work at 7:30 and wouldn't have time.

After momentarily being reunited with his Mother, Cory was ready to head off to the hospital. I was surprised that she did not come with us, I guess that's because I know my Mom would insist on making sure everything got taken care of. That's just how my Mom is and I love her for it, but Cory's mom just said "Bye" and that was it.

On entering the hospital, I spotted an aquarium in the waiting room. As soon as Cory finished signing in, I went to check it out. The first creature I spotted will haunt my dreams forever. At first I wasn't sure if it was a fish or rock, as it was lying still on the floor of the display. On closer inspection, I spotted gills. It was the most hideous fish I have ever seen. First it was grey and looked as if it had a fuzzy texture. Second, the gill was right there in your face, it opened and shut to give you clear shots of its insides. Third, its tail was thin in comparison to its fairly plump body, it curled gangly around its body. Fourth and worst of all was its face. Its black bulby eyes popped out from its head, it had spiky front teeth, and its skull did not look like that of a fish. It was more mammalian, like a monkey or a rat, very square and boney. The first sight of Frankenfish caused me to blurt out "Cory, this is one messed up looking fish". Unaware that there was a patient on the other side, I cured the momentary awkwardness by asking him what he thought of the fish.

Because it was late at night we did not wait long. Cory was ushered into the back and he told me to follow or suffer a boring wait by myself in the lobby with the Rat-Fish. So I followed. We were taken back to a room and told that a nurse would be in to check on us. There is so much waiting involved when going to the hospital, I realized that for the first time Tuesday night. Sure enough, Carl, showed up and asked what happened. Cory answered that he had hurt it while backyard wrestling. I really wished he would have warned me before he lied like that, because I am prone to blurting out "I thought you broke it during cage fighting practice". He later told me that he was worried that his insurance policy wouldn't cover cage-fighting.

Carl was a big man, around 300 pounds. He told Cory that he too was once a wrestler. In fact he had wrestled at IU in the 70's and was once a member of the national team. He threw out some names of coaches and wrestlers he had worked with, but I don't know the first thing about wrestling. Probably because in eight grade grade I fractured my elbow during my first year wrestling and gave the sport up. However, Cory knew who they were, and they began talking about high school wrestling and how the sport has changed over the years.

We waited in the room for about an hour. In the meantime Cory tried blowing up the sterile gloves. He told me that he would be shocked if his foot wasn't broken. This would be detrimental to his career as a cage fighter because it would remove him from the sport for at least three months. As of that Tuesday afternoon, Cory had three consecutive fights lined up. The longest streak he has ever had as a fighter. However, the possibility of not being able to participate in these fights did not phase him much. In fact he saw it as a blessing, the injury would give him some much needed time off and allow him to focus more on school.

At 2:30 in the morning we received the news that the x-rays had turned up negative and that no bones had broken. The pain had been triggered by a snapped tendon, however this would still keep him out of the ring for at least four weeks. Cory was astonished, he slipped on his protective boot which he had from a previous injury and we left, prescription in hand.

In the morning, Cory tried fulfilling his promise of a home cooked breakfast. I felt bad, seeing that he was injured and hobbled all over the kitchen. However, instead of baking pancakes, we filled the entire house with smoke. So, like most males attempting cooking, we gave up and went to McDonald's.

Jackson Sucks At Shooting Jumpers As Well as Hand-Guns

Reggie Miller, Mr. Pacer, seems to be the only one getting it right about what happened last Friday. The incident involving Stephen Jackson and three other Pacers led to shots being fired out side an Indianapolis night club. Miller, who gracefully retired in '05, called the incident a "black cloud" for the Pacer organization and criticized Jackson's teammates for supporting him.

Here's the Story from the Star.

http://www.indystar.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061010/SPORTS04/610100362

The police say that the four Pacers appear to be the victims in the event. However, while the law may be on their side, what happened that night is despicable. Reggie had it right on the dot when he asked why Jackson was out at 3 A.M. in the midst of preseason training and with many of the team's young acquisitions looking up to him for veteran leadership.

I've never been a big fan of Jackson. First, we traded away Al Harrington, who was just getting to be a great all-around player, for him. Then Jackson went and played second oboe to Ron Artest's Malice at Palace performance. If you watch the clip, which I'm sure you've seen a hundred times, Jackson is throwing fists just as furiously as Artest. Not to mention Jackson's sub-par play these past couple seasons. Worst of all he is our replacement at the two guard spot for Reggie.

During the altercation, with some loud mouth drunks, Jackson shot five bullets into the air after he was punched in the mouth and hit by a car. He will miss the first pre-season game to night because of the stitches in his mouth.

Reggie also made a bold statement about how "ridiculous" it was that the Pacer's organization backed him up after the incident. ""What I don't like is that a lot of players who weren't at the club were standing behind Stephen Jackson. You shouldn't stand behind a player that is slapping you guys in the face" This statement comes in opposition to Coach Rick Carlisle and Jermaine O'Neal's staunch support of Jackson.

Carlisle has shown little bite in this episode. He's a good coach, but his main problem is that he does not realize that he has power, as head coach, to take control of the team. For example, before pre-season Carlisle got together with two Pacers and asked them if they still wanted him as coach. Who were these two? J.O. and Jackson. True, the Pacers lack a team leader, which is why Carlisle went out and got on-the-court general Darrel Armstrong. But, to ask Jackson for approval? His opinion should mean nothing. In fact he should have been moved in the off-season (He was Artest's best friend on the team). Carlisle said he would have walked if either one of them had said no. Thank God Jackson didn't blow that one or we might have had P-Diddy calling plays due to his knack for guns and night clubs.

What a mess, incidents like these make me miss the days of Miller, Smits, the Davis brothers and even Mark Jackson.

Wasting A Valuable Saturday Night

I'm starring down another big week. I got a profile piece about some old alum due on Saturday. Then there's homecoming weekend and midterms. It doesn't help that I completely pissed away my weekend.

Saturday evening I made the hour drive North to come home and go to a wedding. I didn't even have to go, but now that I am in college I appreciate any time that I can get together with my family.

The bride, Sonja, was a friend of the family. She's a little bit older than my mom and has always been fairly obese. She met her husband, Stuart, in a hospital as she was undergoing gastric bypass surgery. Sonja, who is native to Alabama, had been adopted, along with her mother Shirley, by my Mother's side of the family. They have been a part of all of our Christmas Eve celebrations. I don't think any of us thought this day would ever come, and it showed at the wedding.

The lamest ceremonial event I have ever been a part of. A real half-ass attempt at a wedding. I guess this is what happens if you wait till you are forty to get engaged.

For starters it took place in an awkwardly designed church, which you could tell was trying to optimize space by keeping the price tag under budget. As a result we sat in folding chairs in a large, plain room. Not to mention the guests of the bride and groom were not even separated.

Instead of a pianist or organ player, tickling the ivories of "Here Comes the Bride" everything was done on audio. There was a D.J. however, but during the after ceremony-celebrations they played hideous country covers of the Eagles. How do country artists get off doing so many covers? I guess other than drinking and the Red, White and Blue, they have no other creative inspirations.

Grace was no where in sight when Sonja presented herself to the congregation. She looked around, from side to side in confusion as if there were other paths than the white mat that had been rolled out in front of her. After seconds of hesitation she began her journey down the aisle.

To add to the cheesiness, my mom and her two sisters were the bride's maids. Women in their 40's should not be maids, especially if they've been married for 20 years. OK, I think I'm ripping on this wedding a little too much. If nothing else it was a simple wedding and as I said before it was a special family event. I just wish I hadn't of spent my Saturday night on it.

I was planning on leaving around 9:00 and drive back to school, but I rode with my Dad and didn't have a ride back home where my car was. So, I stayed the whole time. I guess if I willed it strong enough, I could have escaped. To be honest with myself, I didn't hate all that much. This sounds really pathetic. I did the hokey pokey with my little cousins and accompanied my Grandma to a slow dance. I even helped clean up afterwards.

There was a party back in Franklin that I could have gone to, knowing that I was missing that really ate me up Saturday night, so I'm going to make it up by doing something on Tuesday night.

Ouch

I was just about ready to call it a night, when Jeremy asked Cory to beat some guy up. I was half listening to him talk about this 30 year old who is now with his ex-girlfriend, while watching the extra features on Napoleon Dynamite. I caught something to the effect that Jeremy had found pictures of her and this guy on facebook. To add salt to the wounds, the dates on the photos were less than a week after Jeremy had lost his virginity to her.

I'm not a big fan of Jeremy, and listening to his tale of heart-break was some-what surprising. This is the guy that started a speech this week with "I like it when people think I'm sexy", the same guy that I loss my date to at the party only days ago. I mean this guy knows women like the back of his hand and yet he is still susceptible to burns.

I loose confidence easily these days, but after hearing Jeremy's testimony, I think this is true for all modern males. Women and relationships have never been this complicated. No one realizes how hard we have it these days, the pressure of the media, the double sided coin of the women's movement (Do I still pay for dinner), and aesthetic culture. No one understands my pysche and why I have reservations towards today's fickle girls. This has led me to give up many times, such as the state that I currently am in, but I know that in a couple of days I'll want to have a go at it once more.

It pained me to see Jeremy last night as he looked over pictures of his ex and her new flame on the Internet. However, it brought things into perspective. No one is safe from heartbreak. In today's society, it is us males that are now the primary victims. I think that's a new place for us to be in, when really there should never be any victims at all.

This is a story about being in the right place at the wrong time.

When I first came to college, I knew that I would join a fraternity. I wanted to establish a social life on campus and I thought it would be a way to meet new friends. I joined the KDR chapter on campus because of my friend, Matt, from high school.

I have never had the stars align over head of me, but the series of events that happened afterward are just ridiculous. First, after being initiated, our fraternity got busted for underage drinking after already being on probation. The result of this was, probation for another year. No parties, no alcohol, no nothing. Basically there was no point in being in the fraternity.

I quit after a semester, along with one other pledge. We were tired of sitting through long meetings, when we couldn't actually function as fraternity. Basically it was all work and no play that semester. Plus, I had friends elsewhere that I would have rather been with than performing all this bull shit.

However, the main reason I quit was because of a church mouse named Jeff. Jeff was a pledge with me, and incredibly sheltered. The night we got caught drinking, Jeff wrote a complaint to the Dean. The fraternity, which was under conservative leadership, decided not to punish Jeff and instead took the blame for putting us pledges in that situation.

During this time I was getting shit for falling behind in my math models class from the pledge supervisor. I was carrying a 3.0 GPA, but he wanted to get on my case anyway. And then there were the f 'n pledge tests, in which I was always last to finish. Jeff on the other hand would actually study for these and would get praise from the other members.

What it boils down to is, the KDR's chose between Jeff and me. On one hand was the "Lets party and be a real fraternity" mentality, the other was "Oh no, drinking is bad and I thought fraternities were just study groups anyway". So after a brief statement to the fraternity, I turned in my pledge pin and left.

This was not an abrupt decision, and I never regretted leaving the fraternity. That is until this week, one year since I pledged. All my friends have since joined up leaving me behind, the probation has been lifted, and I can't form an intramural football team. Its just my luck.

I didn't know that you had to be in a fraternity to have a social life on this campus. So next semester I'll probably join something. I can't believe I could get so screwed.

From the "Let It Out" Section of the Indianapolis Star

"The Garden of Eden was in Iraq, Noah built his ark there, Daniel was in the lion's den there, and the wise men were from Iraq. More Bible prophecy is associated with Iraq than with any other nation."

I was not aware of Iraq's rich history until an Iraqi-American came to speak on campus last semester. In the speech, I learned that Iraq is one of the oldest civilizations. Iraq, and parts of Syria and Iran made up what was once called Mesopotamia. From this ancient society, humans developed the ability to write, invented bricks, and formed one of the first national governments.

Even more intriguing are the recorded stories from Iraq and its connection to many religious stories (not just Christian). There is an Iraqi legend remarkably similar to Noah's Arc. The tower of Babel had an Iraq address. And the king of Babel, Gilgamesh, has a similar story to Moses. Many of these remains have probably been destroyed by the US Air force, but I won't get into that right now.

It's impossible to know, as the quote above claims, where the Garden of Eden was located. However, Iraq is definitely a possibility as it is likely the world started somewhere in the Middle East. As far as prophecy goes, I'm not sure what the connection is? I'm not well versed in any religious book. I have heard though, that America is referred to as the New Babylon in prophecy, which would also reference Iraq because the original Babel was in Iraq.

The Story Teller

At 2 O'clock in the A.M., Cory and I found ourselves back in our dorm room. Despite the fact we had been out all night, neither of us were remotely tired. Cory looks over at me from his computer and asks if I'm up for doing anything. I say "Sure", and within seconds he is calling up one of his random female acquaintances. He has many, and rarely do I ever see the same one twice over in our room.

So, 20 minutes later I am introduced to Megan. I think "Great another girl that's going to make out with Cory and then pass out," I leave the two of them to chat in the living room as I play free online video games. However, I got bored of this fast, so I popped down on a couch and joined them.

During my first conversation with Megan, she told me about her blood thirsty younger brother. She went into detail about how he confided in her that he wanted to kill someone and watch them die at some point in his life. I know better than to get overdramatized about these statements, but Cory was freaking out in fear for his life.

I noticed that not only was she prone to talking, but she had a knack for telling stories. She never held back and there was a sound of glee in each story she would tell about her life. Even revealing times of pain, Megan would let out a wide grin and laugh about her anguish.

She explained how nice it felt to be wrapped in a warm blanket after lying on a cold, steel operation table. She briefly told us about her experiences growing up in a single parent home with an alcoholic mom, but these were only side-notes in her story telling. Many times she would branch off into other events, and I would have to remind her to come back to the original story.

After listening to a couple of her tales, I decided to give it a try. Mostly about recent events that have occurred on campus, like the tunnel discovery. Sure on face value they could not hold a candle to what she had been through, but with some improvisions I was able to come out with a couple intriguing tales. Yes, some of them even included magical dwarves and a unicorn, in which I later shot and made into extra-strong glue.

Megan had to be at work at 8 A.M., and at 4 we decided we would stay up until 7 when she had to leave to get ready. I don't know how we did it, but Megan and I were able to pass stories back in forth as Cory was a sleep on the floor. I told one fantastically embellished story after another. To be honest, I was impressed with my ability to tell stories. Just to make someone laugh at your creation is satisfaction enough.

Even though Megan easily told us stories from her life, she was very guarded about how Cory and I would interpret them. "You don't think I'm a tease do you?" she would say over and over. We reassured her that we didn't and convinced her to continue with her story, which wasn't hard to do. I've noticed that in both my journalism work and in everyday life, that I have an unusual interest in other people's stories. I think this is what made last night work. She had stories to tell, I was ready to listen.

At 7 'o'clock she left our room and I immediately went to bed as Cory stayed on the floor. I have never stayed up that late, but those last 5 hours on Saturday night (Sunday Morning) defined my weekend.