tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61567572011-04-21T11:53:28.027-07:00Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.comBlogger111100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-900894549553855092007-07-21T05:29:00.000-07:002007-07-21T06:06:53.062-07:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day. A friend came down, so I hung out with her most of the day in intermittent intervals. During one of the times she was out, I took a long walk. Campus is so striking when no one else is there. Football players were all around the stadium, but before and after that area was desolate. The quiet was so refreshing. Just seeing the college, usually so busy and

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-51355235775675721232007-07-18T19:40:00.000-07:002007-07-18T21:12:11.631-07:00

Four years of my life are in a paper bag. Poetry, novel ideas, short stories, journal entries...they are all in that bag. All my writing from those four years. At least the hard copies. Even pens, photos, letters, and other items are in the bag, mixed with junk mail and scrap paper. I did not read through it all like I had planned on. Back then, I wrote journals primarily to record a mark

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-5922519988540360542007-07-14T17:45:00.000-07:002007-07-14T19:37:59.834-07:00

I've been meaning to write for some time now, reader. Had the best intentions of doing so on several occasions. At times, like last night, I even sat down to record events or thoughts that might interest you or me, but actually probably interest neither of us, are irrelevant, or generally mundane/stupid. Anyway, I launched into a lengthy discussion about my thought process behind my lack of

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-16386862127473843562007-06-28T05:28:00.000-07:002007-06-28T06:48:42.942-07:00

It's hard to pick one charity over another. Obviously, I have little to nothing to give any charity since I make nothing. In fact, now that I am making something, I got exemption from federal and state taxes because it is so little. Apparently. Forms really make no sense to me. Anyway, I have been using searchkindly.org for awhile now. Search Kindly is a search engine that runs off the

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-15416628462443787842007-06-25T19:50:00.000-07:002007-06-26T05:02:46.658-07:00

I never seem to write when I am fully awake. I'm getting tired now. Not even eleven. That's pretty pathetic. Two nights last week I stayed up until 1:00 or 2:00, though. This weekend, I stayed up until about 4:00. I tried to sleep at 3:30, but was too terrified to do so until 4:00. The Audition really was terrifying. After three years of pondering its plot and structure, I did not find

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-72624090885291112007-05-09T21:15:00.000-07:002007-05-09T22:21:39.896-07:00

This post will be relatively quick and sketchy.1) Slaughterhouse V had an interesting structure that I'm not terribly certain I grasped. The introduction, which was the first chapter, irritated me, but as the book unfolded I saw how that opening message, repetitive and scattered as it was, reflected the tone of the story. Billy Pilgrim was a prick, but Vonnegut did a good job making him

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-52461282392800944622007-05-07T19:34:00.000-07:002007-05-07T20:43:39.382-07:00

Graduation weekend was an odd, emotional experience. As I stated in an earlier post (or an imaginary earlier post), I started to become physically ill at the considerations playing into the weekend- my father not being able to come, many people leaving for good, my own need to start life planning, etc. Friday was no different. These thoughts swam around my mind. I couldn't eat much, nor could

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-31479977599811695232007-04-30T19:37:00.000-07:002007-04-30T20:34:33.816-07:00

In the past two days, I have:- cried four times- walked to and spent time in the park- prayed for those departing- prayed for clarity- has to force feed myself in order to eat- skipped meals (resulting in muscle exhaustion and ensuing sickiness)Each year I have been at college, I have missed certain people who graduated. Usually only a couple, a few people who I interacted with weekly, perhaps

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-82480758816718243832007-04-29T05:59:00.000-07:002007-04-29T06:14:18.468-07:00

I've decided to refocus this outlet again. Rather than expound large volumes of thought, which no one really cares about, I will use it to express shorter, less-essay like ideas. Hopefully that will minimize the amount of damnable typos. Here's what I propose to put in here:- to do lists- lists of good and bad things in the day- surprises- analysis of actions- reading lists- thoughts about

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-21246101457121425302007-04-24T03:35:00.000-07:002007-04-24T03:46:14.364-07:00

I've been wanting to write for several days now, but haven't found a time where I felt like writing or when I haven't been upset by something. The Tech incident has most, if not all, the Virginia colleges shaken. Even a week after, you can still feel numbness from it. That's what I felt, and still feel- a numbness. Two hours away. That's about how long it is from here to there. The killer

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6156757.post-12263103536742648332007-03-28T20:55:00.000-07:002007-03-28T21:12:30.935-07:00

I've adequatly assured myself that all possibilities in my life remain perfectly open which is comforting in some sense. As I see finality closing towards my planning, I worry that I have inadequately prepared myself for the future and have not discovered any true purpose to my existance. Despite the symbolism I've given aspects of my own life to give meaning, my life seems purposeless and,

Charleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09682242772549991831noreply@blogger.com0