The Other Day Someone Told me There was Such a Thing as a Ford F-650

If I was a woman, and I saw this:

I would feel oppressed.

-Will

Smells Like

It smells like summer tonight.

It smells like movie nights and ice cream and heat receding from the blaring day.

The kind of summer night where, on a whim at 3 am, one might walk down the middle of roads illuminated by orange street signs to get a chocolate milk at 7 Eleven. Where one might grab a couple friends, find a field, and count shooting stars all night. Because there's nothing better or worse to do in the world.

Not too many more of these.

Moshpits, Sweat, and Music

Four years ago today at Warped Tour, I was having the time of my life and sweating profusely in a giant circular moshpit at a Reel Big Fish show (I was able to see them again earlier this summer and had a remarkably similar experience.) I'm going to my second Warped Tour, this time in Virginia, tomorrow.

Certainly some of my fondest memories are at concerts. Cool people call them shows, but I really believe the distinction is made in the venue. The first time I ever saw a band live was seeing Paramore at "The Living Room," an old Providence venue that was essentially a warehouse with a bar. I would call that a show. Since then, I saw AC/DC at Gilette Stadium, where the stage had cannons, a giant bell, and a freaking train on it.

That's no show, that's a concert.

Reel Big Fish played in the House of Blues, which has become maybe my favorite venue. If you enjoy concerts, you should go see one there -- I went to the one in Boston, but I'm sure they're all excellent. The free water alone would earn a hearty recommendation-- they charged three bucks a pop at Dropkick Murphys-- but apart from that it's the only venue that I've been to that's a spectacle in itself. It looks like it belongs in a Guitar Hero game.

I've noticed that there's a pretty standard set of characters at these shows/concerts. The guy who brought a girl and is taking up three people worth of space in his aggressive defense of her. The girl who's on her own and super okay with it. The guy who's on his own and very much not okay with it. The guy who crowd surfs all night. The giant security guard at the front of the stage with a ZZ Top beard and an intense enmity for the crowd surfer. This time, I met a severely inebriated woman when she accidentally punched me in the neck. There was an old lady on the green line who seemed right horrified at the menagerie of people on the subway. I think if she had asked if I just jumped in a pool I would have just said yes.

There will come a time when I'm sure I won't appreciate this delicate combination of sweating, people, and absurdly loud music, but it is not this day. Even now, though, there are aspects of concerts like that that I don't appreciate, crowd surfing being the main one. In movies, crowd surfing is usually when someone in the band jumps off the stage and is carried on a perfect bed of hands for a few seconds. In reality, crowd surfing is crowd throwing; it starts in the back of the crowd, not the front, so after the initial lift, if the "support" doesn't have their heads on a swivel then a man falls on them. It's not a pleasant experience. Even if heads are thoroughly swiveled that just means people are more aware that a man is about to land on them. No one over 150 lbs. should be legally allowed to crowd surf. It's just a life experience that we should miss out on for the greater good.

Conversely, I find moshing, which is stereotypically the less entertaining, by far the best crowd experience. I do have to clarify: most of my moshing experience comes from Ska concerts. I would be concerned about getting into a heavy metal pit, but Ska creates happy moshpits.

If someone falls down, everyone around them makes a circle and they get helped the frick up. That's serious, and no one is so lost in the music that they'll allow someone get trampled. I experienced a similar reaction tonight when someone noticed my glasses got knocked off. This isn't a group of people beating the crap out of each other, it's a people who love the band and want to express that in a physically intense way, and happen to be in a very small square footage. Heads are kicked. Shoes are lost. And necks are punched, apparently. But it's a good time.

You can actually see me in this picture. 10 points if you can find me.

-Will


"It's not so bad being trendy; everyone who looks like me is my friend."

Summer Job (Remix)

This summer, I'm working as a counselor with a leadership camp run by an office I will not name here. The position is "camp counselor," but the class-heavy couple of weeks does not make your typical summer excursion; the role does not match what most people think of when they think "camp counselor." I'm essentially the practical arm of said organization, staying with the kids almost 24/7.

Often this means performing a number of menial tasks that just need to get done; setting up Wi-Fi, making sure the water is stocked, buying shampoo, sometimes helping kids if they're sick or homesick. The issue is this: I answer to the college we're staying at for any mess the kids get in, and I answer to the chaperones for anything that the college screws up (which are many things). My cynical description is that I have all the responsibility and none of the authority. I've described it to a few others (and vehemently to myself, under my breath, with adjectives) as being anywhere on a spectrum from "nuts" to a "nightmare."

The majority of my days are spent moving people to places. I'm in charge of keeping track of the kids in the morning and at night, making sure they are awake and ready to go to breakfast, and getting them on the bus afterwards. In the mornings we go to the Harvard campus to have class. If you ever think to yourself with pride, "yeah, I know stuff," walk through a science building of a prestigious school. Nothing in there makes any sense, and there's an incredible amount of things that don't make any sense. I probably couldn't pass a high school chemistry test at this point, so it's weird that I'm even allowed to be inside a building that has words and phrases like "centrifuge" and "DNA sequencing drop off." For a few days we went to MIT, where the titles made just enough sense to sound even more impressive: "Optimization of Schochastic Strategies for Robot Swarms."

In the afternoon the people moving continues, when I help get them to lunch, bathrooms, the right stores, onto Duck Boats, etc. Imagine herding 32 sheep, who all want to buy something at Starbucks. 

Many problems are no one's fault. In the chain of command, all the people above me are Korean and all the people around and below me are Brazilian, so everyone has their own secret language. I completely understand that it's hard to learn another language-- my French is awful-- so of course I'm not upset at anyone in particular. Everyone's working hard. But not only is it tiring to struggle to be understood, this often causes miscommunication, which is our most rampant problem.

I have to digress here, though. Already I've said "the kids," which is too sweeping a term. That's the issue with talking about a group; the same problem I had when I first went to Africa. It's far too easy to make judgments on a group based on an outspoken minority. In Senegal, one extremely vocal anti-American girl made it look like everyone there hated the US. This assessment might not be completely off-base--no one seemed to care enough to argue with her, after all-- but it was still unfair.

It's a similar situation here; the kids who stand out aren't the one who are respectful and obedient, the ones who are always on time and only have to be told something once-- they were a minority to be sure, but still present. I remember much more clearly the the times when I had to shout to get everyone's attention, when I had to tell the same dude to go to bed three times before he even moved, and when I had to sprint through the halls and unlock doors because people forgot wallets, textbooks, glasses, etc.

Anyway, with one exception, they were all 10-13 years old. And they were all extremely 10-13 years old. It's an age when the consideration lobe is far from developed; very few people at 13 realize that everything they do affects other people. The kids had a propensity for congregating in choke points like stairwells and narrow hallways, and seemed blind to the capacity of trash cans.

Overall, the job is just tough. It's a lot of work. But there are worse jobs. I'd rather work here than at Delta's customer service, for example. And the fact of the matter is: I'm lucky to have a job at all. But man, do I miss three-hour shifts at the coffeehouse.

-Will

"It seems to me I could live my life a lot better than I think I am."

Second Edit

A few days after I posted about the job, one of the girls from the camp said she and a few others had found my blog.

Oops.

She said I seemed "angry and tired," which is fair.

I was. I'm still tired.

But she brought up a good point; although it was honest, it was perhaps too harsh. And though I failed to complete the sentence noting this, it was meant to be a very brief, very unedited update to let people know what was going on. A second edit is incoming, maintaining honesty, while hopefully lacking as much suppressed rage. I'll leave these here for posterity.

Summer Job

I've been pretty incredibly busy the past few days, but a lot of people (including my family) Normally I try to do a little more than just journal about what I've been doing, but I haven't been easy to reach and this is my way to giving everyone a little more detail that "I'm at camp, it's been busy."

It is called "I Wonder What Will's Up To," after all.

(This isn't going through even the limited levels of editing another post might, so bear with me.)

I am working as a counselor with a leadership camp run by The Academy at Harvard Square. I wasn't 100 percent sure what my role would be coming into it, and it's still hard to describe, but basically I'm with the campers serving as the functional arm of The Academy. Mostly it means a lot of menial tasks that just need to get done; setting up Wi-Fi, making sure the water is stocked, buying shampoo, sometimes helping kids if they're sick or homesick. I also am in charge of keeping track of the kids in the morning and at night, making sure they are awake and ready to go to breakfast, getting them on the bus, then waiting for them in the afternoon to take them to dinner, shuttle them around to bathrooms, dorms, etc. Imagine herding 32 sheep, who all want to buy something at Starbucks. 

The jobs is pretty stressful, because even though I'm not doing much administration work I have to keep track of 32 Brazilian kids, most of whom are 10-13 years old, and don't listen to me very well. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, but I like to think that it's disrespectful to ignore people everywhere. They're good kids--they're wicked young and in another country, living without parents for the first time, so they get some leeway-- just hard to organize.

One of the adult counselors with them is really understanding and appreciative, one has not truly listened to a word I've said since she arrived, and one speaks no English so I don't really know her. Technically my hours are 7-12, 5-11, but because of logistic issues I worked about 16 hours yesterday. I've described it to a few others (and vehemently to myself, under my breath, with adjectives) as being anywhere from "nuts" to a "nightmare."

It's been hard to In the chain of command, all the people above me are Korean and all the people below me are Brazilian, so everyone has their own secret language, and it gets old. I completely understand that it's hard to learn another language-- my French is awful--

In the mornings we go to the Harvard campus to have class. If you ever think to yourself with pride, "yeah, I know stuff," walk through a science building of a prestigious school. Nothing in there makes any sense, and there's an incredible amount of it. I probably couldn't pass a high school chemistry test at this point so it's weird that I'm even allowed to be inside a building that has words and phrases like "centrifuge" and "DNA synchronization drop off point."

Because of reasons (related to parent-chaperone-organizer relations) I won't disclose, I am giving short English lessons before the student lecturers arrive. The lecturers are very qualified to teach English; it's their job. I am not, and it is not mine, but we're making it work. Yesterday I taught them the word "wicked," which so far has been very useful. I feel like not giving this lesson, though, was a serious missed opportunity.

By contrast, the campers, chaperones and I are staying at Pine Manor College. I'm beginning to understand why no one has heard of it.  Never host an event at Pine Manor College. The grounds are nice, but the dorms themselves are not, and the lady in charge of summer housing is doing a pretty horrible job. I've had to call her two or three times before anything we ask gets done--there were kids from another college staying in one of our rooms about 10 hours before the kids arrived, and one of our bathrooms was filled with someone else's toiletries.

In conclusion, I'm going to take a nap now.


-Will


"You're never too old to go to space camp, dude."

On Video Games: an Open Letter to Ben Kuchera

 This is a letter I wrote to video game journalist Ben Kuchera, who has recently started a site devoted to long-form video game journalism, which makes it really the first of its kind.

Dear Mr. Kuchera,

I know you’re busy running the Report as a one man show, so I completely understand if you can’t respond to or even read this. But you recommended contacting people who are smarter than you, so I thought I’d give it a shot. Maybe you’ll appreciate reading an email that isn’t a Kickstarter pitch.

            PAX East—which I think was an experience worth five to six times price of admission, for the record—really made me think. Among other various panels, booths, and concerts, I went to a panel of online community leaders, I talked with several professional gamers, and I listened to your presentation on long-form journalism. All provided an interesting snapshot of life in different parts of the gaming industry, but as brown-nosing as it sounds, yours was the one that stuck with me most positively. This isn’t only because your talk was well done, but also because I realized that I have zero interest in being a professional gamer or an online community manager.

It’s not that I expect that it will take less time or work to do these (as you and many others have said, initial failure should be expected in journalism), and it’s not just that there’s zero certainty that such a high level of participation will ever produce a paying job. It’s mainly that I’m not all that enamored with the ultimate goal.

Do I want to devote my life to an online gaming community when I could theoretically be writing about current events? Do I want to devote my life to video games at all?

These are questions I’ve been thinking about a good amount recently. I’ve just finished my first year of college as an English major, but I’m still not sure how video games are going to fit into my adult life. Maybe I’ve been surrounded by people who have thoroughly disrespected gaming for so many years that it’s starting to get to me. I recognize, though, that gaming as a media is in its infancy; it’s not on the same level as literature or film. I don’t believe we have a gaming equivalent of Great Gatsby. And I’m sure I sound naïve; I realize that even if I do choose to write novels, it’s extremely unlikely they would make any lasting impact on humanity. What I enjoy about the Report it’s about people and culture as much as it is about video games. I can get behind that.

You’re someone who has been working in the industry for a while, so I have been wondering what this process might have been like for you. What made you choose to write about video games? Was there a moment when you decided that you wanted to work with video games as a career, or did it naturally progress from a love of them? Similarly, as far a writing goes, did you want to be a writer and then choose your topic or want to do something with video games and choose to write?

I really appreciate your time, and though I’ve tried to avoid sounding like a complete fanboy up to this point, I’ll say that I think the Report is fantastic. The story of the Daigo/Wong fight in particular (which you can peruse here if interested) was fascinating. Have a great weekend.

Sincerely,

-Will Martin

I haven't received a response yet, but maybe that's just because I need a more intriguing subject line than "On Video Games"...

Unto Others

Well, my essay didn't get enough votes to win a scholarship, but in case you haven't read it, I'll leave it here. For posterity, I suppose. A few people I didn't know commented that it was a good reminder, so that's a pretty cool thing. Now: the most important lesson I've ever learned in 300 words or less.

Any question as grand and crucial “the most important lesson I have learned in my life” is difficult to approach. In consideration, I thought about many of my personal experiences—about times of difficulty and joy—but what I came to realize was that I was approaching the question incorrectly. The most important lesson I have learned has nothing to do with me: it is the importance of putting others before you.

The true character of a person is shown in how much they help people who cannot help them back. That it true selflessness; serving others without expectation of reciprocal action.

In this regard, I am blessed to be extroverted; most amicable interactions are fulfilling to me on some level. I love working with and helping people, but although it is easier for me to recommend serving them, the lesson is still valid. Even if one needs more time alone, everyone should make a concentrated effort to help those around them.  

Today it is remarkably easy to fall into self-centeredness. We can bend technology to our whim to meet every inconvenience, advertisements promote the importance of “you,” and Facebook is a churning narcissism machine. Not only does this negatively affect us today, but I cannot see the situation getting better anytime soon. How can I tell my future children that the world does not revolve around them when the world tells them that it does?

There is hope, however. Selflessness begets selflessness. There is a reason that the rule “do unto others as you would have them do to you” has been classified as “golden.” If we understand our prideful, selfish, current situation as a society, we are much better equipped to escape it. The most important lesson I have ever learned is to put everyone above myself.

-Will

 "And a bonus point for readers: If you write for a living, never hesitate to recycle material."

We're on a Break

This is a day I've been dreading for many years.

I think, and have thought for some time, that everyone with a hobby--including video games, or knitting, or football watching-- has a point where they sit back and think about how it shapes their life. I was just hoping that I would be the first gamer to skip it.

Now, an important disclaimer: I love video games. This does not mean that they're all I do. I usually play a maximum of three to four hours a week, and when I have a busy week, which is to say a normal week, I may go the entirety of it without picking up a controller. I have not sunk days of my life into Skyrim just yet, and other people always take precedent over Halo.

A few weeks ago, near the end of Christmas break, I beat Gears of War. While the game was pretty good, the last level was ridiculous. It was horrible. The final boss is legendarily difficult, known for causing controller breakage and the odd tear or two. I finally defeated him after a walkthrough video, a few difficulty changes, and about 50 tries. It was the kind of experience, combined with the countless hours of listless free time I had over Christmas break, that made me question why I played video games.

Enter: Rayman Origins. Spectacular platforming aside, it is perhaps the happiest game I've ever played. The onscreen character is constantly beaming and flashing peace signs, as he traverses bottomless pits and admittedly adorable enemies. When you run into a secret area several people exclaim "oooh!" Almost every sound is on upbeat with the soundtrack which consists largely of didgeridoos and ukeleles. This is a game that was made with constant injections of pure fun.

There are reasons that video games are fairly unrespected as media that aren't simply length-of-existence. Games with the best stories--Bioshock, Mass Effect, and Shadow of Colossus come to mind--are still somewhat outclassed and far, far out numbered by the best movies and novels.

But they do fill niches that exist in other forms of media. Gears of War, I'd say, is the gaming equivalent of the Transformers trilogy. Mario is like a classic Dr. Seuss book. But I don't know that there are any romantic comedy video games. And I have yet to play the gaming equivalent of the Great Gatsby.

Here's my problem: when I get a musical urge, I usually skip awkwardly and poorly strumming the 2 chords I know on the old guitar I have and turn to the instant gratification of the beloved Rock Band series. But while I can still do well on most expert guitar songs, and have made a lot of progress on pro keys since Christmas, thank you very much, I have friends who can play real, actual instruments very well now.

It's an intimidating part of growing up--even in a small college, for pretty much anything I do well, there is a handful of people (usually several handfuls) that can beat me in it. But I'm not going to get better at singing or writing if I fill my slices of free time with video games, even with the delectable Rayman Origins.

And if you can't imagine your life without something, it's time to go without it for a while.

I considered giving them up for a month. A fast, of sorts. I read about a guy who did it for a year once but I guess I'm not that hardcore. And then I remembered that there is a Pokemon League and Tournament (with Blue and Red version) planned for this semester. That may never happen again in my life. I'm not that strong.

So my resolution, then, is to not play them that much for while. I know, I'm a very convicted person.


-Will


"Don't eat fish on Fridays! Unless you forget!"

Going to Learn, to Get Some Knowledge

As you've probably heard from every college student you've had any interaction with over the last few days, it's finals weeks. Which means, as you've probably heard from all the freshman college students you've had any interaction with over the past few days, our first semester of college is almost vanquished. It' doesn't feel like the semester is over, because I still have a fairly significant amount of work to do, but I'm seeing, if not the end of the tunnel, at least the top of the hill.

But classes are over. The semester is, essentially, over. Last year a wise, bearded mandolin player (seriously though) enlightened me to the fact that college courses end after one semester. Maybe this is common knowledge, but if he hadn't told me, I probably wouldn't have found out until this moment. This shocking realization lead me to one even more alarming. I'm going to miss my classes.

I walked, giddily, out of my exam today.  I walked out of an oral exam giddy. Granted, getting out of an exam early is one of life's more exhilarating experiences, but

Those who know me know that I'm not an academic over-achiever. I'm not saying I'm stupid, but there are people who love the very experience of learning and I, until this point, have never been one of them. I have turned in papers five or six words over the minimum, and I will never do optional reading. I don't generally have many positive feelings toward any class after its final exam (Journalism being the exception out of the 28 that I took in high school). Even though my AP Lit teacher was fantastic, and the class did indeed prepare me to college in a beat-into-submission kind of way, I would never take it again. But if you sat me down and told me I had to listen to Borgman rant about Abraham for another four months, I'd be pretty okay with it.
Maybe I got lucky with my class choice this year-- I know, with my earliest class at 11:25, I did with their timing. I had Intro to Creative Writing, which stereotypically had the strangest conglomeration of students, as well as a very personable, very hipster professor.  I took the Examined Life, the required philosophy class that I not only didn't hate, but enjoyed so much I'm considering a minor in philosophy. There was Bible as Literature, with it's meager six students and very eccentric, charismatic, yet somewhat...kooky professor. And then we have Old Testament. For that one, it's not the class I will miss as much as the company of the person to the right of me. All my professors were really nice, all the homework was reasonable, and I frequently slept in until 11:00 am. I promise, I'm not being paid by Gordon for this.

So, after thinking about this for a while, I came to another The internet would make an inception joke here. Looking back at the posts from this semester, realization, learning, is the motif, the common thread running through it all. I learned how good Sam is at creating weaponry from paper, I learned the difference between tuna and chicken salad (and forgot it again), I learned--to an extent-- how much more Africa affected me than I thought. And heck, I've enjoyed it.

I never imagined considering graduate school, and I know it's ridiculous to consider it at this point, but seven and a half years of school don't sound as bad as they once did. There are so many things to learn! I'm majoring in English, but I'm auditioning for a music minor next year, plus there's drama, philosophy, biblical studies...all incredibly interesting subjects worth pursuing.

Even ignoring all classes this semester, I learned that fishercat calls are horrifying, what swag is, that the library steps are best place on campus to see the sky, all seven verses of "O Come All Ye Faithful," that my facial hair is still patchy, that it's really hard to be spontaneous without a car, and that girls don't appreciate incredibly abrasive Bostonian waiters.

There is still plenty I have yet to learn of course. I still don't know why there are hooks on our door if we can't hook anything on them and the proper response for "what's good?", but hey. That's what the next seven semesters are for. Also the rest of my life.


-Will


 "Things that come easy are not usually good. Good things take effort."

Dry Season

Recently I've realized that I've been affected by my time in Africa much more than I was aware of.

In early October, as I possessed zero water-resistant outer garments, my dad took me to get an umbrella and a raincoat at various Wenham-area retailers. I appreciated the thought and the generosity, but I quite frankly thought it was kind of silly. I never considered why I thought this silly. If I had thought through my logic, however, I would have come to the idea that "it rained really hard this last week, so it must be about dry season now." But because I didn't ever get that far, and tell that to myself, I didn't realize that that is of course not a thing here.

I was fantastic to see so many people in this past week. I saw my bros from Charter, people at church, most of my extended family, a couple of friends from DA, and even my friend in Texas (which if I haven't ranted about to you yet, was a fantastic trip). It was a great time, but it kind of took me off guard, for the same reason as the rain has. In my head, when I said bye to them at the end of the summer, I didn't really expect to see them for another year. I told them, in a-- I promise-- non-manufactured surprised manner, that "I'll see you at Thanksgiving!" But again, if I had thought it through, I would have seen that I didn't believe what I was saying.

You could say it's the effect of two summers and no winters back in America had. Some might call it a rare, psychological phenomenon. But if I were being honest with myself, you know what I'd call it? Culture shock.

-Will


"Look there's a statue!"

"Did You Partake in the Miracle of Human Flight, You Noncontributing Zero?!"

I've had a lot of technological topics on my mind these past few months, what with returning to the land of consumerism, buying my first TV and laptop, and the death of and subsequent honor and worship bestowed upon Steve Jobs. But someone showed me this video the other week and I realized that Louie CK had already said, more succinctly and hilariously than I ever could, what I wanted to.

I embed to you "Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy."






-Will


"Like, how quickly the world owes him something he knew existed only ten seconds ago."

And For my First Job...

I got the most cliched possibility: a dishwasher. However, since most of the stories from the dishroom involve long hours with steamy old food and spraying bits of ambiguous foodstuffs out of the machine with a hose (somehow there is always macaroni cheese in the grates, yet we rarely serve macaroni), I will tell the tale of the deli line.

I've been gradually learning the ins and outs of the various positions at Lane, our beloved cafeteria, and today I ended up placed in the sandwich line. Seems pretty straightforward, right? For a normal person, it would be.

I suddenly remembered that from Kindergarten to 8th grade there wasn't a school day I can remember that I didn't have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Since then, if I'm having something else, I pretty religiously stick to American cheese with some kind of basic meat. I've never had lettuce and tomatoes on them in my life. I am not known for my exotic sandwiching.

I hadn't glanced at the two ambiguously diced and mayo-ed bins of meat, varying slightly in hue, which I now know were tuna and chicken salad. When the second girl in line asked for chicken salad, I came to the terrifying realization that I didn't know which was which. I had to ask her, which was which.

She told me I was "kind of scaring her," and I understood.

One girl, an acquaintance whom I relayed the episode to, said that since I could not distinguish the two she had "lost faith in me as a human being." It got pretty intense. When I said I didn't like mayo she just walked off.

Then a few sandwiches, a bit of nervous sweat, and one get-into-the-groove later, a girl ordered a pita. This is a bread option difficult to stuff in any situation. It would have been okay if she had ordered hummus and a slice of lettuce, but she ordered half a farm! Lettuce, tomato, salami, ham, pickles, onions, the works. There's like a quarter of an inch of space in these things!

I handed her a plate with her sandwich spilling out from the pita like taun-taun guts, and she gave me this look like it was physically possible to fit such an assortment of sandwich items into this quasi-bread. Not my fault.

Some say that everyone should work food service at least once, which I now heartily agree to. I've always liked the sandwich ladies at lunch--they're friendly, and they make a mean ham-and-cheese-- but I have never had more respect for them.

Tan-colored, Gordon-branded uniform hats off to you, workers of Lane.


-Will


"Whoa! There's a shirt with like, the whole Justice League on it."

Weathered

Walking out of the dining hall tonight was a more energizing experience than I would have possibly guessed. I could smell the ocean as if I were standing on its shore, although I was miles from it. One side of the sky was tinted orange and the other a strange green, yet the whole of it was glowing as if it were holding back day from us. Early-fallen red leaves kicked up high into the air from a strong wind, driven by the pressure before a storm. It's the sort of night that seems almost supernatural, the kind of weather that makes one expect something incredible to happen.

As I've told most of the people who would listen, I'm incredibly excited for the only two things I couldn't re-experience during my summer America trips; fall and winter-- and I forgot, even, how quickly the former can arrive.

Although I don't consider fall in full swing (as excited as I am to wear my tucs, new and old, they are still optional headgear), the weather has been fantastic from the day I arrived. Instead of this time of year being marked by a constant,"stagnant, blistering heat," I've worn a t-shirt and been hot, a heavy coat and been cold, a raincoat and been wet. Mostly though, a jacket is enough, but that is thrilling to me.

Pumpkins mysteriously and festively appeared on our dorm steps last week, and they were my favorite things. It has been three years since I've seen a pumpkin. Three years! What would Linus say?

Cider is now readily available at the coffee house on campus. Football is flowing like wine, even though both my teams decided to play poorly this week. The Office started up again last week. The weather's getting crisp again, for good. I am a seriously happy person right now.

Because it's October here, and that means something.

-Will


"Because I do want to know what Will's up to and he's not granting me that ability."

My Brother the Chief

About an hour ago, I was speechless about the sunset at Good Harbor beach.


To imagine that this is a normal sight to people with beach houses was and is beyond my comprehension.

I am now speechless in a very different way, over a very different type of picture.

I cannot even describe what just came over me. It was a sort of mix of nostalgia, utter pride, brotherly love

He's been working on them for a while now, and I've of course been asking for some pictures of the finished product. He and they exceeded my expectations about as far as is legal to exceed them.


And it's not just the poses anyone could think about. There are 35 pictures in the album, showing Master Chief not just posing like a boss, but playing ping-pong,


chess,

and my personal favorite, wearing a sombrero and twirling a mustache that tragically couldn't exist.



Knowing that my little brother is spending his time doing this evokes such pride that my heart cliche-dly swells up. It's like when Anna started playing Pokemon Yellow. I miss my family, I think, a lot more than I'm conscious of. I miss you, Sam. Love you dude.


-Will


"Why shouldn't I look at the sun?"

Come On Irene

Tomorrow, as most of you may know, is the day hurricane Irene is hitting Massachusetts. Since our dorm is what some would call a piece of crap, we're actually being evacuated to somewhere...newer. Also where there aren't several, giant trees around. I thought I'd give a regularly updated account of the events over here at Gordon-- like twitter, really, but less completely useless.

So this is either going to be a gripping, Cloverfield-like first person perspective on the worst natural disaster Gordon has ever seen, or a chronicling of 20 dudes who stocked up on junk food, being in a basement, and eating the junk food.

Saturday

5:30-- (T-minus 16.5 hours until lockdown) Target run to pick up some food for tomorrow. Luckily they hadn't raised Easy Mac prices tenfold in anticipation of the storm. Also purchased a scooter. As in, a razor scooter. Apparently those are socially acceptable here, and since there's real pavement here, they work.

7:30-- (T-minus 14.5) Test out scooter on way to dining hall. It is awesome. My seven minute trip from the dorm to the dining hall is now a meager 180 seconds.

8:20-- Packing time. To take, or not to take my entire nerf selection. Better safe than sorry.

9:42-- Still packing. Things are getting somewhat serious, actually-- the RA is planning to bump the evacuation time from tomorrow at 9 am to tonight at midnight.

9:56-- Now avoiding the news. Pictures and "deadly storm" headlines really can do no good for me at this point. It'll probably be fine..but still.

9:57-- I really would have been fine if I went, say, a month or so without packing, but here we are.

Sunday

1:54-- There are eleven laptops set up on the table in the basement of Ferrin Hall, our new spot. Rain's comin' down pretty hard again. Played through a few games of League of Legends after some rousing CatchPhrase, and still goin' strong. Off to retrieve the PizzaRolls in our freezer across the way.

2:21-- Tom drank "Sprite" from a bottle with a red cap originally on it. I don't know what black magic spawned such a substance, but I'm predicting some sort of ailment.

12:19-- Windy, dark, rainy, and League of Legends-y. We're going to start a 5v5 Ferrin v Rider game pretty soon.

12:20-- Quote of the morning so far:
Mike: "Can we turn the lights on so it's not so gloomy?"
Max: "But then it's less like a gamer cave."

I Love College

I never thought I could possibly be this excited about school. Orientation at Gordon was, how you say, freaking awesome. I tried to organize the intensity and incredible experiences, but I'm really tired and classes start tomorrow so I'm just gonna spitball it a bit. Bear with me.

Academic day was one of the best. That's the one about classes. My schedule is spectacular. I never have any classes until 10:25, my Friday class ends at noon, and I have a three-hour creative writing block ever Monday night. My advisor, an English professor, did voice work for the Tribes and Thief video game series.

Yesterday, I walked outside and was almost overcome by the beauty of the weather. I actually just stood there for something like three minutes, beaming.

The Dean brought a live lobster on stage with him.

There's a band, and the director seems like the nicest guy ever. I got into the men's choir, as well as a band everyone gets into.

Heck, even my textbooks were a joy to purchase; Dad was expecting 400 bucks and it came in at about half that. And they were playing Iron Man on a TV for the line. Not Fireproof, Iron Man.

At DA, I eventually got numb to the reaction that no one knows any references I make or shows I watch. Here, people have quoted teen girl squad, shouted internet memes, and when I called dibs on a Scott Pilgrim poster everyone got jealous because they know what that is.

Although the dorm building I'm living in is not the best, and a hike from the center of campus, the guys in it are fantastic. Half the place plays League of Legends, the RA has a SNES and Atari, and it took about two hours for someone to take out a DS and show us a mighty impressive Pokedex. One senior reminisced about Nerf battles and Brawl tournaments of yesteryear. I've found my people.

That's the real kicker. I told someone I knew running the orientation over facebook that they've been some of my favorite days ever, and that was not hyperbole. I love my class so far. I know that will change eventually, of course; people are still in the "everyone's my best friend stage." But knowing that I've already met a vast number of incredibly interesting, diverse people-- more than I have in years combined-- and still have several hundred options for friends has been exhilarating.

And not to sound like "that guy," but there is a high number of very attractive girls in our class. One wore a transformers shirt yesterday. To sound like that guy-- booyah.


-Will

"God gives you grace, we give you visitation hours."

Reelin' in the Months

They say first impressions are of the utmost importance, but I would argue that last impressions are even more vital to an opinion.

If I were to sum up my last few months in Africa in a sentence, as I often have done in my head, it would be this: My final encounters soured the vast majority of the few things I enjoyed about Dakar, making me increasingly contented to leave.

I looked forward to this summer. And summer I have.Even though it felt shorter than any I can remember, the highlight reel is a long one.

I went to the midnight release of Harry Potter 7:2 and... Cowboys and Aliens. I met Canadian friends from Africa at the Wrentham Outlets. I watched a minivan run a race course in Maine. I went to Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast in Chicago. I went on a grueling, freezing three-day hike with my brother and dad in New Hampshire. Saw an incredible yo-yoer in Boston. Saw a Red Sox game. Started six books, and finished two. Went to my middle school's graduation. Watched the worst movie of all time, Troll 2. Was immensely surprised by the excellent quality of Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Had a burger at a Mexican restaurant for the 4th year in a row with Pastor Mike. Played 36 holes of mini-golf. Played innumerable hours of Halo. Ordered three bacon pizzas at midnight, and tried to pay with Monopoly money. Had only pizza for food on two separate days. Spent an entire day recording two songs with my new band, The Purple Drankers (http://www.youtube.com/user/ThePurpleDrankers?feature=mhee). Drove 3200 miles, or, the distance from our house to the Pacific Ocean, in one road trip of several, which largely explains the amount of State names in this paragraph.

I had a busy summer.

And tomorrow (today) I'm going to college. I have no concept of this. I'm psyched to move in, get my posters up, meet my roommate, etc. but in my head that's months, not hours, away. My gosh I love commas. It's bizarre to think that I'm going to move out of the house in about seven hours. Isn't that what adults do?

Well, I guess I'm going to college now.

See you on the other side.

-Will


"And if I don't see you again; good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight."

Frikin' Lazers

I suppose that at this point, some would consider me too old for lazer tag, that as I'm going to college, I should move past novelty shooting games. But that's what they said when I trick or treated at 15, too, and I had a really good haul that year. Also I plan to start a Nerf club at college.

Luckily for me, many of my good friends are with me on this, which is how I found myself at a midnight to 7 a.m. lazer tag session last night in Fall River, Massachusetts.

Fall River is widely known as one of the sketchiest towns in MA; as my friend Jonny suggested, second only to Dorchester. Some of it's city planning was bizarre enough to remind me of Africa. It's the kind of place where, hypothetically, if a group of buddies went and one of them went to Walgreens to pick up a disposable camera unnanounced, the others would be significantly upset with him. They thought I was killed or something.

The lazer tag facility is in an old mill, behind a McDonald's, marked by absolutely zero signage. Neither the parking lot or the building show any indication of housing a lazer tag arena. You can only find out about it if you know the right people. It's kind of a thrill, actually knowing that you've stumbled upon and now have connections with the lazer tag underground. But despite its meager exterior, and to a lesser extent its interior, it's know as the lazer tag place, enough so to make us trek an hour, passing three other options, to get to.

With the group deal, I was pretty thrilled that 35 bucks would get me unlimited lazer tag and arcade games for seven hours, but when I found out that also included pizza, three drinks and Dunkin Donuts donuts, I actually felt bad. At that point it seemed like theft.

It was a pretty fantastic time. It was suggested that the head employee may have been under some influences, as they say, but he seemed like a really nice guy. It's an involved arena, too, with two stories of ample space (although only the n00bs use the first floor), and it kept us going for a good seven hours of early mornin' lazerin'.

Major props to Mack and Dave for overcoming insane heat, transportation for 30 people, and a couple of ditching jerks to throw a wicked awesome party.

And for the record, I'm not being paid for each time I say lazer tag.


-Will


"Why is my thumb shaking?" --Bond, at 5 a.m.

The Boy Who Stayed Awake

I'm sitting right now in a sea of fandom, at the last midnight launch of a Harry Potter movie in the foreseeable future, 15 minutes before "it all ends." Going to the midnight launch of anything has to be one of the most unique experiences in life. No where else do I know can you find such a raw, unadulterated sea of obssession as the earliest possible moment to watch a movie.

Someone just screamed "Harry Potter! Woo!" and got a significant response from the crowd. There's a 40-year old man with a fake beard and a cloak sitting across from me. There were two girls dressed up as snitches outside, complete with "I open at the close" shirts. Even the workers have orange-red and silver-green scarves. I had no idea this many Hogwarts house ties were even in existence. The people without wands are the losers.

And although I somewhat disdain this movie for starting the trend of splitting a movie into two 10+ dollar tickets, I'm sad it's the last, really. Even the fact that this is the last time to get Potter merch without having to back-order it has me feeling a little nostalgic. It's the end of an era, or at least the beginning of the end of it. The movies have been decent, but man those books are gold. Since others have written much better and more meaningful tributes than I, I'll keep it short and leave you with my favorite quote of the movie, bar "NOT MY DAUGHTER...!" In the wise words of Albus Dumbledore:

"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." --Albus Dumbledore


-Will