RyanHarne.com

I’m trying some pomade. To my knowledge, there is no current label or assumption regarding those who use pomade, so I’ll be innocent and give it a shot. Due to my appreciation for O Brother, Where Art Thou?, I had the impression that my tin of pomade would make me look like George Clooney’s character. Perhaps it would even grant me a hint of rugged, Southern intellectualism.

To my misfortune, my Dapper Dan-equivalent did not seep into my brain and stimulate cell reproduction, but it is a very fine product. I’ve tried in vain to find a fairly-priced, hair product that can keep hair perfectly stiff (for my tastes) and I do believe I’ve found it. Pomade, friends - it’s the latest in trend fashion.

So, it’s been less than 24 hours since I’ve considered myself moved-in, and I’ve already begun studying. Granted, my job highly suggests that I keep up with the assignments of Emporium students (which is understandable; would you want an ignorant and unhelpful advisor to attempt to alleviate mathematical stress?) and I know there are a few weak areas in my great pool of knowledge. I would like to make some kind of ridiculous, used-car-sales-esque guarantee that if my customers are not satisfied then they get a clean return on their dealings; but, quite unfortunately, my feeble attempts at directing students to a higher understanding of math come with only the promise that confusion will be kept at a minimum.

Right now, though, I’m currently ruminating on the choice of having a white board on my door and not having a white board on my door. Luckily, I’ve attained more clothes hangers which was a need very close to my heart. Or closet.

I am at VT. After a day of early rising, frantic tossing-things-into room, training on how to not lose temper with students, putting room together from existing mess, rearranging room from less-existent mess to mildly existent mess, search for food, trip to WalMart, and final set-up of room to cleanse conscience before going to bed… after all of that, I am X-oss-ted.

I did find food, eventually, around 10:20pm at a new place on College Ave. Either I was so hungry that a quickly prepared sub tasted delicious, or, in fact, I had one of the best veggie subs in my entire life. There was some kind of cucumber sauce in the wonder-of-the-moment that I was enamored with.

But right now, I think it best to become enamored with my pillow. There is plenty to keep up with tomorrow. Starting at 9am at Gillie’s.

And after this summer, long summer, I am quite ready for some school. Took a trip to see sister and brother-in-law in NoVa and good times, yes, good times. Started good book too. Can’t get enough good book.

Too much Starbucks, though. Almost a trade-off of fine taste and clear conscience. $4 for a 20-minute treat and 20-hour mental unrest. No good. Too much Starbucks.

The new graphic may stick during school. Not gonna have time this semester. Wear me out. Yeah. Really. Live on espresso and soup. And salad. Gonna be wild, stressing session.

And this weekend was great fun times with sister and bro-in-law. Relaxing outside of Lynchburg. And I’m way tired, gosh, way tired. Miles Davis is a soothing horn but no sooth enough for my tiredness. Have no mind left to write so I end here.

Oh, well, that’s a shiny and new Mustang. Lucky. Somewhat. Meh, at least the car is clean. And not stolen.

Ok, I see; yeah, go ahead, take that spot. I know you can’t hear me, you know, since you’re engulfed in your cell conversation, but my diesel is hard to ignore. Alright, well, I’ll just look for another spot then.

Oh! You’re going to back up to park straighter; well, that makes a good citizen of you; but just wait until I get by, please. Ok, driving behind this quaint yuppie, but, oh, you’re just going to back up anyways?

Ummm… you’re getting incredibly close to my car that is still behind you… ::honk:: WHY aren’t you stopping?! You’re STILL backing up! ::honk:: ::jetisons car quickly away to avoid unwanted intersection of vehicles::

People these days! Don’t even try to pull off the superior-to-you status; I know you got that car with the employee discount; I see those 30-day tags. The suit, cell, and car don’t make the man, sir. Don’t make the man.

In the same spirit of Michelle Pfeiffer’s character in I Am Sam, I am learning how to get exercise in the most unusual of settings. Rita Harrison darted up several flights of stairs to maintain a 120 bpm pulse traveling from client meeting to client meeting, and I’ve discovered a way to build muscle while not even realizing.

That’s right, folks; another one of lives great endeavors, exercise, has been mastered to the extent that we no longer have to realize we are doing it. Calves just happen to be my muscular nemesis, as it is with some people not gifted in that area. Those with calves should flaunt them, because there are many who simply have trouble producing any muscle behind their shins.

I asked a friend how he works out his calves and he said he runs. Well, if that’s the case, I should have bronze calves - something ancient Israelites would have gladly bowed down to. He next pointed out that he uses stair machines frequently. Hmm. Stairs… stairs, you say? I certainly don’t see many natural stairs during my day, not in Lynchburg, at least.

So I thought. And thought. How can I walk stairs; well, where could I even find them? There are scarcely few stairs in Lynchburg, as people prefer spreading outward when more space in needed. So there must be an alternative. Still thinking… well, stair machines make you extend your calf. Standing in your tip-toes makes you extend your calf too. Uh.. I’m seeing a correlation here.

My connections didn’t stop there. I stand up a lot during the day, walking from place to place, but more so just standing (this is all at the job, of course; not school; school is for long-distance walking). So, I’ve decided to stand on my tip-toes at work when the time allows it. And after a while of this attempted exercise and stretching, the strangest thing happened:

I had forgotten I was standing on my tip-toes. So when I relaxed my legs, there was a significant loss of tension; meaning that I had been stretching them and extending them to their limit and holding that position for a great length of time - the same effect as using a stair machine, somewhat. I’ve discovered a way to not realize you’re becoming healthier.

Kind of like eating your way to being thin - the results without the work. There are a lot of things that people desire, or even do, that make little sense when being viewed after the matter. Is there no end to the madness? No. The answer is no.

I’ve spent over eight months in Lynchburg. Understandably, I did 18 years once, but the collegiate exile is usually the final curtain. Some return, the homegrown type, those who appreciate this particular cultural atmosphere; but, the great majority pack their proverbial bags (and I suppose their literal bags as well) and head out. Or “ert” as I’ve heard the term used around here.

So what is it like the second time around for someone who is clearly not holding on to anything in this area (apart from family and a few friends)? Briefly, it is equivalent to someone turning off your ferris wheel leaving you stuck, perched less than halfway off the ground. This is my perspective, and some who hold L-burg dear would disagree, perhaps violently; but I’ve been put on hold, so to speak, and have been listening to the bustling carnival all around me without any hope of my own reveling.

I go back to VT in one week. One. Week. And, according to my tentative schedule following this fall semester, I may never be back in L-burg again for any longer than the handful of weeks of winter break. If all goes well, my summers from here on will not be spent locally, but rather forming new networks with people in other areas (maybe even the Chicago area… you know, maybe). This leaves me hopeful and not dreading the departure. My siblings have encouraged me to spread wings, they too admit the confining environment of Lynchburg, each in their own ways.

Is this bittersweet for me? Only slightly. The second time makes me almost indifferent. Almost.