RyanHarne.com

The week is done. Over. Past. Gone with a glance. Now I must viciously eschew all thought and reminder of the workplace for another 48 hours. Despite a bit of change at work, I must say, this week dragged by, slowly, as paced as the tortoise.

To finalize my first glimpse of rest away from work, I stopped by Starbucks for a Light Coffee Frap and some more reading of Les Mis. Initially, I came in exhausted and, quite frankly, almost a bit sickly (a throat irritation has begun since yesterday). I left with a free mind and a refreshed esophagus.

Returning home I checked my mail and looked up the latest on my Amazon order. Oh grief! Anguish! The wrong shipping address was placed for it (a mistake only I can field the blame for) and the order was already into preliminary shipping status, beyond cancelling or alterring. What’s worse is that the accidental address was my last semester school address, which doesn’t exist for me any more, let alone anyone I hope. So I email Amazon with my issue seeking support, counseling, and sympathy; 24 hours from now I *might* receive aid in reply. Then I check my VT mailing status and whatnot. I call the student help services and after a five-minute chat with a kind and patient rep, I am told that the package *may* be forwarded to my home address since the existing shipping address will work for no one.

So either my package will be rerouted here, as intended, or sent back to Amazon where the order will be incinerated and forgotten (Amazon says I won’t be charged if the item is returned do to a faulty address). But, the fun doesn’t stop.

While checking my current mailing status at Tech, I find out that my housing assignment for 2004-2005 has been changed; I am now on the main hall of the wing and have a room facing East AJ, rather than the view out towards West End that I was promised. For the obvious reasons of not desiring a high-traffic-main-hall room, there are other reasons that my future roommate and I chose to be at the original spot (flying projectiles launched, with love, from East AJ rooms being one of them). And there’s nothing I can do to change this rooming stuff.

But honestly, my week is over. I don’t want further stress to compile onto my week of routine strain. So tonight, I will chill somewhere with a book and a latté and let fate determine the rest.

Still… ::arg::

Late Night Edition Addition: So the remainder of my evening has graced by casually. Dinner was Japanese, very needed since I only occasionally have heavy rice dishes around L-burg (everyone seems to obsess over chicken and beef here).

I saw Troy. Or rather, I sat-uninterested-for-two-and-a-half-hours-constantly-glancing-at-the-time-to-when-the-movie-would-reach-conclusion. Such melodramatic disaster. What a LOTR wannabe. For once, I’d like to see Orlando Bloom put down a bow & arrow combo and pick up an application for acting school. Anyways, eventually the putridity ceased and I raced over to Drowsy before they closed. A latté and a lemon-poppyseed muffin later, I was feeling fine.

Yet still, I was stupid enough to put the wrong mailing address on that order. I’ll never let myself down for this.

Oh well; tomorrow is the all-redeemable Saturday.

::flourish:: ::conjuring of happiness:: … Happy Birthday Rianna! You are now, once again, older than me

Today at work I received some sort of violent outburst from a ‘96-ish Honda Accord EX that passed me by. The noise was distinctly human, but I could distinguish no more in terms of content or expression. At best, I can relay that it was said with as much enthusiasm as a picketing PETA activist outside of a KFC. A blunt, explosion of syllables and harsh articulations. I gave the being no satisfaction by looking up, but beneath my sunglasses I glanced after the car had gone by for some time, and noticed a considerably large portion of a human torse sticking out of the car. I thought the whole ordeal was rather odd.

Speaking of incoherent, I watched a six second clip of video I took during last weekend’s trip to H-burg of Courtney and I chatting. Even before viewing, I could remember the last words that Ney said was “It is.” And I was correct. However, the other five seconds of footage make no sense, from either what she says or how I respond. Perhaps I started recording mid-word or something, but I simply can not make any sense of the rest. Oh well.

Despite my distaste for NewsWeek, they have a full TipSheet section this week of college advice/prep that was rather conventional. In part, they picture several dorm items of use, particularly from IKEA, and also include a must-see movie guide for students. I must say, 5 out of the 10 movie recommendations I, in fact, saw during my freshman year of college. And I’m even more hesitant to say this, but I laud their eating and fitness advice for students not-yet weaned for college health, a lifestyle far away from homemade meals and parental restraint. Even still, common sense and regular, true exercise are the prime methods for keeping healthy in such a drastically changing time. Anyways.

The Dems are having a wicked party in Boston. I hope J is finding some refuge.

It was likely early on in my freshman fall semester of VT that I found the magnificant resources and implementations of sentimentality. I can recall the impact that Allison and Tabitha had on me when I made my way out of JFHS’s doors and into the collegiate lifestyle; they instilled upon me a new outlook, one that didn’t say, “let’s move on!” but rather one that reminisced and replied, “you have brought me hope.” Tech provided the outlet to initialize my sentimentality; A & T gave me the manual.

Thus, this weekend I put this new realm of emotions into an expansive bloom as I said goodbye to two wonderful friends, Adam and Courtney. Admittedly, I will see Courtney as chance brings reunion, but it may be an era before I meet up with Adam again. His move to Cleveland will throw an inrevocable chasm in terms of communication; although a Mac and an iSight later I may be rewording my grief.

After the Friday evening fun, sleep overcame us and we rested. An intermission before the finis. Adam and I woke up Saturday morning and took a run around the rolling countryside of Harrisonburg, his longer stride pummeling my weakling pace, but he was kind enough to back off to a jog for me.

We both met up with Courtney for a movie, Napoleon Dynamite. Quite possibly the funniest movie I’ve seen this year. That film deserved more independent film festival awards than it received; dry humor abounds and lights up every awkward-pausing moment. Worth getting to own, absolutely.

Then we made it to Dave’s Taverna for dinner. It was an all-encompassing, amazing meal. Following the delicacies we got some ice cream from Kline’s and walked the downtown area taking pictures and realizing our time together was fading.

That night was simply composed of MST3K and fun.

A brunch at the Little Grille, the Gillie’s of H-Vegas, began our morning. Each of us, I would say, had a meal worth remembering.

Sadly, goodbyes began to ring out after that. Farewells. I packed and hit the road. While I can browse the many pictures I took this weekend, I will do even better to retain the memories written in our capsule of time.

This was a final page, a conclusion and resolution after the climax. Yet, I do believe that just as Tolkien, Lewis, and Chaucer found ways to out-do themselves, I anticipate another, more consummate, volume in store for our relationships.

In Harrisonburg again. And it’s really late. But I’m blogging anyways.

After work I Jetta-tized myself for two+ hours and made the quaint trip north to H-Vegas.

An evening of pizza, music, and tv with Adam was further enhanced with the presence of Courtney, who has a knack for providing impromptu criticism at misleading statements on anyone’s behalf. There was an issue with a question I felt was rhetorical but was not, however, perceived as such. Discourse became manifested, as follows:

Me: to Adam “Do you want a cookie?” [following one of Adam’s own critical comments, holding up a bag of cookies Ney brought over]

Adam: to Me “No; I want none of the sort.”

Courtney: to Me “Why would you ask that?”

Me: to Ney and, to a lesser extent, Adam “Well, it was just rhetorical. You know, like ‘wanna cookie?’ ?”

Courtney: to Me “That makes no sense, but irregardless [shuffles about] here…have a present!”

Me: to Ney “Why thank you! Courtney, you are wonderful.”

Adam: to Me “Ryan, you deserve many presents!”

Me: [being fervently humble and gracious] to All “Thank you, both of you; I truly am awesome!”

So…that is how it went. Exactly the course of events.

‘Cept maybe not as many presents…and showerings of affections…

Maybe only a few showers of affection.

..Scattered… showers of affection…

….drizzles..?

Despite their somewhat, completely absent revelations of admiration for me, I still plan on having a great weekend with them. Just…without the presents.

::sigh::

I just got off the phone with Abigail. What a wonderful time. Truly.

This week at work has been thus far…a portion of a week at work. No more, no less.

An invasion of sorts is taking place within my world. Naked Juice has found weak foundation in my life and has charged full-scale. This stuff is truly addictive. Thus far I’ve bottled up with Power C, Very Berry, and Protein Zone. Usually, following a workout, I require several glasses of orange juice to moderately replentish me for the rest of the evening. With the introduction of Naked Juice, I am fully invigorated after only 6-8 ounces of the stuff; one serving, post-workout, can defeat all weariness with ease. Astounding; stupendous; splendiforous!

Les Mis is heating up. Révolution is beginning to change history. I loves me some of this book.

Ok, time is up; gotta go.

Certainly a bored person can find bliss. My method of locating this plateau was rather gradual during this weekend. I preferred to approach it as an incline, ready myself for a knoll, and tackle it as a precipice. Naturally, I was drawn to find weekend appreciation in literature and the arts; but then again, that could just as easily imply magazines and a metal concert.

Actually, my literature standpoint surrounded my reading of Les Mis. Saturday afternoon was spent at Given’s Books, sipping an English toffee latté, and making headway through the latest chapters. I’ve reached the point of absorbition with this book; I’ve noticed the plot thicken and progress, thus my eyes remained more glued to the pages. A call to Jeremiah provided me with a needed intermission during this time.

That evening launched me back to Candler’s Station for a dollar movie. Since The Day After Tomorrow was already sold out, I decided on another stupid movie to satisfy me. Godsend was my immediate choice. Haven’t heard of it? I’m not surprised; embarassing performances from Rebecca Romijn-Stamos and Robert De Niro highlight this failure. The screenplay is based on a ficticious cloning of a family’s dead son so they can have him back; but once the clone passes the age at which his original child died, he starts having nightmares that send him into a destructive and Chucky-like phase. It was interesting to note how Romijn-Stamos’ character responded to any depressing news or events: she suddenly wore less mascara and considerably more white powder, almost an Elizabethan look. Anyways, the movie was foolish; other members of the crowd literally laughed out loud with me at the more absurd parts.

That cinematic disaster led me to The Drowsy Poet at which I sipped and nibbled through more of Les Mis. Good times.

Today finalized my weekend, educational enhancements to nirvana. Following more of Les Mis I progressed into some more of my Latin studies. Somehow, re-learning this language, though dead as it may be, incredibly invigorates me; a language so complete and powerful that it snags every thread of passion in my persona and lifts me. Or something.

Next was lunch with Rianna. A sincere and great conversation with chips & salsa for $1.99.

Then more Les Mis.

Then Life Is Beautiful. I remember my first time of watching this film with Abigail. I remember my amazement at how fabulous it was; equally amazed was I after viewing Amélie. So this afternoon was sentimental nonetheless.

All said and done, I have read through over 100 pages of Les Mis this weekend. A feat usually requiring a week or more.

’twas a pleasant weekend. In the making for Next Weekend 2004!, a trip to H-Vegas.

Further note: the fourth generation iPod has been leaked thanks to MSNBC.