Sometimes Dreams Go Too Far;

        Respectfully Submitted Brother John Nelson.

Last night I laid down in my bed and closed my eyes. What followed was interesting. I began to dream. This is nothing new, I assure you, but sometimes these dreams go too far. Tonight was one of those nights.

Influenced by a large paper I have to write and my creative writing class, I began to dream about being in a class where I have a writing assignment. Along with others, we had to write an article about something. My article was to be on a Marathon.

so there I was in the class being my normal self and procrastinating. At one point the teacher asked for my draft and I told her I had not even started writing it. This did not go over well. I told her, however, that I could not have begun on the draft for the very simple reason that I had not run the Marathon yet. It was here that my dream took began to go too far.

Having recently read an article on the Boston Marathon I was then magically transported to the starting line of said race. I was not in the group of Elites but, rather, in the group of timed qualifiers. Basically, they're the guys who had to run timed races to qualify to get the number placement they had -- a placement right behind the those people who might actually win the race.

It also helps because, if you can run a fast and even clip for long enough, you outpace all of the people behind you and stay out of the crushing crowds. For those who run a lot, this is a nice thing to be able to avoid.

So off I begin to run. In the distance in front of me I see the lead runners fade away, moving at a clip I view as impossible. A strange thing happens, however, for I am running well. Very well. This is strange on the very basis that, if you have seen me recently, you know that I am drastically out of shape for such an endeavor. This is not to say I can not run, but rather to say that I am by far not at my peak and even more so not at a Marathon level.

So off I go into my dream induced world of the marathon. I pass through some interesting scenery. At one point we have to cross a series of bridges over a river -- except they are not straight shots and you have to go up and down these winding stairs interconnecting them. I'm still not really sure how the mechanics and physics of these bridges, or this dream world, work but it was interesting nonetheless.

Next up we ran near a church and, having the need, I stopped in to use the bathroom. It was a Saturday (even though the Boston Marathon is run on a Monday) and they were having service. I still remember what the little sign said the sermon was on that night: Lean on Paul. I remember my impulse to go into service, grab the microphone, and tell everyone to pray for me so that I might remember Paul and Christ might carry me through. Afterall, I reasoned, I was horribly out of shape (despite my apparent ability to run this far, which I reckon at around 5 miles at this point, with a nice steady clip and no pain) and I would definitely need a miracle to finish this endeavor.

It was then I left the church building, passed some of its members trying to do outreach by playing Christian songs on guitars as the race passed by, and went on my way. It is around here that I woke up. This I did with the sudden realization that I'm going to run a Marathon. Maybe the Boston Marathon.

So without further ado, a second resolution;

Be It Hereby Resolved;
        I shall endeavor to get in enough shape to run the Boston Marathon in two years;
Respectfully Submitted Brother John Nelson.

And this is just one more reminder to those who thought I was not crazy -- you were wrong.

Now I am off in my pseudo-sleep induced haze of morning to go wander the halls and get food somewhere, somehow, and try and wake up out of this delirium.

posted by Pacer 4/26/2003

Friday, April 18, 2003

Day Form Hell: First Report D - 4 Hours

I had a meeting today with my teacher with whom I am supposed to share my work for my large Senior Seminar History Paper. I had to have most of my 25 page paper typed and ready to show her. I did not see her. Which was good because I had not had time to type up stuff last night. I had a soccer game (which we lost) and then I planned to type after that. Wrong idea. I began throwing up around 10:00 instead beginning to type my paper. Consequently, I went to bed.

I woke up and called in sick to work and began working on my paper, still feeling not so good. Got little done except some layout. Went to see the teacher, she was not there. Left a note saying I'd e-mail by 9:00 PM tonight. I plan on hopefully getting it there sooner. Went to go take a shower and shave at my dorm. Went to eat (stomach still not terribly happy) and then went to the Ramsey Center (the gym) to pick up my UGAID I left at my soccer game the evening before.

Now, it is important to note at this point that I have a huge blister on my foot, which makes me hobble as I walk, as well as a large scrape from this last Saturday playing softball with Phi Kappa. I also have no car. The battery or something else is not working correctly and I can't get to it to jump it because people keep parking next to me. Bummer.

So with that said, I get a call from work letting me know the guy who was trying to do my work for me was having problems. I decided that I'd just go in and do all of that. The problem is that work is a bit of a ways away and up a large hill. I do get to ride a bus there part of the way, but I still have to walk a significant amount. Not good for the foot. But I get all that done, get back to my place and then I might have to go play Ultimate Frisbee, sick stomach and hurt foot and all. But that game was canceled.

So now I sit here trying to do some laundry and trying to work on this paper. I now have 4 hours left and counting. We'll see what happens.

posted by Pacer 4/18/2003

Wednesday, April 16, 2003

Writer's Block ....

Stinks.

posted by Pacer 4/16/2003

Friday, April 04, 2003

Procrastination Strikes

The plates clattered in the kitchen and I stared some more at the menu in front of me. I knew the answer must lie in there somewhere. I desperately sought to escape the haze of the moment.

The harsh glare of the neon signs bounced of the dingy tiled walls and onto the floors and back up into my eyes. It distracted. But not as much as the music as it cascaded down out of the jukebox and onto the floor, splashing into millions upon millions of drops. One moment "Lady Madonna," the next "Only In Dreams". The liquid music kept my brain from focusing on the task at hand -- the menu.

The babble of people talking incoherently bounced off my ears and I looked at the book I had brought. How many pages? One-Hundred? Two-Hundred? Three-hundred or more? The answer was in the menu. I knew it.

The menu jerked into view as my eyes made their way over to the lines of meals and platters and such laid out before me. The glass of Coke was not going to do it. A burger just might. The answer was in the menu. And a piece of pie.

The waitress came to take my order, and burger and pie, and was then gone. Who knew how long it would take? The book only stared at me. Menacingly. Taunting. Hateful.

I glanced at my watch. Four. In the morning. Only four more hours.

Damn class.

posted by Pacer 4/04/2003

An Attempt At A Place Narrative

Scene Again
The plates clatter and the silverware tinkle
As the harsh neon light
Bounces off the tiled walls and floors

And you and I again in this place of habit

Your eyes move me inside in little quivers
And my breath barely allows my words to leave

Scene Again
The music rattles off the menus as I dive into a Coke
And your milkshake over there
And you hair
But your words travel over
And under in through

Scene Again
Gusts of chill wind dance as the door swings open
And close
Behind us and movement announces
People who sway with feminine curves
And my mind wanders

posted by Pacer 4/04/2003

Secondary Epiphany

Twinkling metal met
Harsh glaring neon signs
As music shattered off the tile walls
And floors
As it made its way to disjointed ears
While I sat staring at a Coke in a glass

You were there, across from me
As usual on such nights
Deep into the evening revelry
As we stumbled through our life in dreams of joyous haze

Smiles crossed our lips as the orders were taken
Into the bowels of some dark cavernous place
Where no one, save the anointed, might venture
Only to return half-cooked, or fully-cooked, or
Simply as a milkshake

And like that simple milkshake, our smiles remained
In simple pleasures of a simple evening and a simple friendship

How was I to know that this is what I would want
Ten years from now as I sat on a couch in a house
With a wife, maybe twice so, and no happiness to know

Just a simple friendship and a simple smile
Where we might leave nothing and all things on the table
With our tip, and grins, and laughter
As it followed the Neon light and chased the songs,
Crashing over the patrons in sensory disjointment

posted by Pacer 4/04/2003