7/5/07 6:10pm While looking for a nonprofit gig in Boston, I became conscious of the fact that, once again, I've been neglecting this particular avenue of expressing myself to the world. Most of this stuff -- my personal statements, my rants, my resume -- is all pathetically out-of-date. I'm going to go ahead and start turning that situation around, since now that I'm (finally) done with two decades of school, I have no excuse not to take stuff like this seriously.

3/26/07 12:51pm And so, I escaped. Kind of. I made it out of Boston the weekend before St. Patrick's Day--I went up to Maine with my parents and Jon and Adrienne--and now again to Albany for some work and some much-needed rest. I'm seriously grappling with how I want my future to look right now. Luckily, I've got a great network of people who I can count on, and a sanctuary to which I can retreat when I need it. We can be happy underground.

3/8/07 9:47pm I've gotta get out of here. Winter may be in its last throes, but that hasn't stopped this week's double blast of arctic air, near-record low temperatures, and my being-inside-the-house-with-not-a-lot-to-do as a result. I need it to be springtime, and I need to take a good walk. Instead, I'm sitting at my computer, as usual, more or less feeling sorry for myself, and listening to REO Speedwagon. I love this house, and Lord knows I love killing time on my computer, but I've had enough. I built up a pretty hefty dependence on escapism with the whole online gaming schtick, and coming to terms with the way life really is... well, it's becoming more difficult under the circumstances. I thought that I had all the answers when it came to relationships. Life's full of surprises.

3/6/07 8:38pm This semester is chugging along. There are days when I've got a reasonable amount of work done, I'm able to contibute meaningfully to class discussion, and for a moment there, I'm dangerously close to enjoying myself. On Monday afternoons, I walk down Quincy Street to the Barker Center for a course in African American religious history. This week, we looked at religion in black Chicago in the 1920's and 30's. I was able to invoke the name of Putnam and the words "social capital" with respect to the involvement of middle-class residents of Bronzeville in churches and voluntary associations. It was a pretty basic victory, but I felt good about it. I loved connecting ideas and theories between different classes I took at Canisius. Here at Harvard, my coursework has been really focused, and the synergies have been even more pronounced, so when I'm fortunate enough to be on top of my game, it's a pretty wonderful feeling... just about everything links up. I love that.
I'm also doing a course in strategic management of nonprofit organizations at the KSG. Again, I'm reminded that, for some reason, I really, really enjoy consulting. The centerpiece sort of project for the course is a benchmarking exercise, which involves working with a client organization to identify a particular function that they'd like to develop or do better--in the case of my project partner and I, consistency and quality in communications, with an eye for issues of communications management--and then talk with a bunch of other organizations, be they nonprofit or public or private, and see how they carry out that same function. It's like looking over the shoulder of one of your classmates, and I think it's an awesome model. It's how I personally learn, I think... show me how to do something once, and I think I've basically got it. Forget following cookbook instructions. I sure as hell can't do that.
I'm also doing a seminar pertaining to "Work, Consumption, and Globalization," which is more or less a weekly dose of all of the world's problems, stirred up and poked at in neat two-hour sessions. I did a paper last week on Weber's The Protestant Ethic, and for later on I'm reading this book about the complex of social and institutional barriers to someone about my age getting a foothold in financial independence, home ownership, and the other classical hallmarks of adulthood. Quite honestly, I find it terrifying, it's not a feel-good book, especially for a guy who's in the middle of a job search... or maybe a career search... with only a Harvard master's degree and a smile on his face. Well, okay, maybe a characteristic half-smile. But it's me.
Rounding out the quartet this semester is a straight-up lecture course on "American Liberal Religious Thought," in which I've already managed to avoid reading Channing, Emerson, and Thoreau. This week it's Elizabeth Cady Stanton, to whom I am curiously much more amenable. It's once a week, I can sit in the back of the room and generally chill out, and I dig American religious history, so it's working out, more or less.
So yeah, right now I'm pretty much on top of things. I can't say that I'm having a blast, but I can definitely say that I haven't felt this good about hitting the books at Harvard for quite awhile. Through sheer force of will, I've brought myself to hit my stride. Good enough for Josiah Wedgewood.

2/25/07 10:38am It's become pretty obvious to everyone who's seen me during the past couple days that my whole videogame thing is probably only a symptom, rather than a cause, of my not-wanting-to-do-coursework. Perhaps it's too early in this Lenten experiment to know for sure, but seriously, there is no shortage of non-gaming-related diversion from my ostensibly declared purposes for being in Boston. Also significant is that these new diversions are (hilariously) more expensive: so far, I've subscribed to a newspaper, a magazine, three different digital music services (I immediately cancelled two of them, and, for the record, none of them are exactly what I was looking for), I've seen a laser light show, went out to eat (at least) three times, enjoyed some Dippin' Dots, and spent the entirety of two days sleeping (as in, on both Thursday and Saturday, I slept for twenty three hours straight). I've done a little bit of school- and career-related work, but really, not much. At any rate, more research is needed, and I digress.
One of the big phenomena that I've felt more or less left out of from popular culture over the past few years has been this, for lack of a better term, "personal television show" thing. A lot of people I know have their own "show" that they follow with a substantial degree of fervor. I mean, seriously, what is it with all of these people who watch Lost, Heroes, 24, Battlestar Galactica, Grey's Anatomy, and the like? I mean, I get the concept of watching a show regularly -- back in high school, for example, I watched Next Generation and M*A*S*H every night before I went to bed. For whatever reason, though, I haven't really been interested in television for the last six years or so. Anyway, a little while back, Jenn and I burned through all of the first season of Scrubs, and I really, really liked it. Luke just got the second season, and I watched them all in something like three days. Really tightly-constructed show. I like the lawyer character a lot, I like a lot of the timing in the lines, and a couple of the episodes actually had me laughing out loud with no one else in the room. Anyway, enjoyed it immensely. I also dig the idea of TV shows on DVD, because you can just tear through the content, no commercials, go at your own pace, and all that. I'd probably never actually buy them, though.
It's a decent day out here today. There was a big storm system in the middle of the country this week, but it hasn't posed a problem for us yet, and most of what remains of it will swing south of here tonight and early this week. On account of not playing World of Warcraft, I've been a lot more aware of the weather, local, national, and world events, goings-on in the lives of people I care about, and that sort of stuff. I could get used to it.

2/23/07 10:03am I'm walking the fat line between ardent piety and utter irreverence. I ate meat twice on Ash Wednesday. Lunch was at Felipe's Tacqueria on Mt. Auburn Street, and for dinner, she and I took the brothers Amodeo out for stupidly expensive burgers and fries. I had a malted chocolate shake, and Ben got a Raspberry Lime Rickey because Jenn wanted to see what they were all about. It was a surprise shot of Albany, and a good time was had by all.
At some point in the near future, I'll have to recount some of the details of the digital double life that I've been leading for the past two years, but most substantially for the past nine months or so. Suffice it to say that, as usual, I took things to the breaking point--to the proverbial limit, The Cheat-style--and that I am using this Lenten season as a spiritual convenience to set my allegedly real life back on track. After all, you've gotta put down the ducky if you want to play the saxophone.
God willing, I'll be receiving my Master's degree from Harvard in a little over three months. I've made it a little bit tougher on myself than was probably necessary, of course, but I maintain that I did not fire the first shot. I came in hot back in September of Aught-Five, ready to see and do all there was to be seen and done. Somewhere along the line, my disillusionment directed that enthusiasm squarely towards other projects. For everything that I let slide, I threw myself and my industry headlong into something else. After all, it's not what, but how.
This record was one of the projects that suffered as a result of my sojourns and schemes in that ridiculous societal sandbox that they call the World of Wacraft. Over the next several weeks, I intend not to make up for lost time but to restore some measure of balance to my life, which is on the brink of yet another pretty fantastic transition. I'm excited to be writing here again, and hope that the good people who prospect through this schlock, insofar as it might yield some sort of window into my ideas and adventures, are finding their way back for another trip down the old Hubris Highway. I hope you brought me some pizza-flavored Combos.

7/26/06 2:38pm Mostly this summer, I've been working hard and playing even harder. I'm in a pretty good groove, I'm moving to Cambridge in less than two weeks, I need a haircut, my diet is currently atrocious, and Boston is still a pretty fun place to live. I've been going on dates with my girlfriend and Mike and Marissa, spending money like a good American, not getting enough exercise, and generally having a good, albeit-not-in-Albany, summer. I'm wholly not really looking forward to going back to school, but I guess I only have to deal with it for one more year. I could really, really get used to this working stuff.

6/21/06 4:18pm So recently I've been neglecting these pages, and it's mostly because of my World of Warcraft addiction. While the game has had a lot of negative effects on my life, I will say this for it: I would definitely not be anywhere near as close as I am right now with my brother, Byron, Mike, the Blur, Tom, Mark, Emily, and everyone else in [4. Canisius] if it weren't for that damn game. So, it is what it is, and I digress.
Meanwhile, I am really, really enjoying living in Boston this summer, and especially the time that isn't spent working in the real or virtual world. I go on actual dates with my girlfriend (although, unfortunately, she's been sick for the last week or so), I meet up with Mike for food and bike riding, I stroll around the Common and Downtown Crossing during my weekday lunch hours, and all in all, I'd say, it's been a really pleasant couple of weeks since I scraped through the end of my first half at Harvard. I miss Albany more than I can say, but Massachusetts definitely has its own charms. Late last week, this one state representative announced an amendment to a pending junk food bill that would limit the amount of marshmallow Fluff that Massachusetts' public schools could offer in its lunchboxes. Two days ago, another representative introduced legislation to "defend the legacy of Fluff in Massachusetts," the same state where Fluff was invented, by making the Fluffernutter the official sandwich of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Yes, even though hunger and poverty and crime and all sorts of issues should be on the minds of our state legislators, the Globe and the Herald have been going crazy all week by recording every movement in the Fluff controversy of '06. I'm positive that this is only really helping sales for the Fluff company, and not really achieving much else. I, for my part, picked up a tub of Fluff at Star Market last night and had two generously-proportioned Fluffernutters, complete with Freihofer's white bread, in order to wax nostalgic about this venerable childhood delicacy. Nick Chory called me "ironic," and I could not have asked for a more apt compliment.

5/16/06 6:56pm It's springtime for Strathmore. As I stepped off of a 'D' trolley and onto the rain-soaked platform at Beaconsfield this evening, I looked up and saw the sun for the first time in what felt like a month. It's only been the past week and a half, I guess, but the rain hasn't stopped since classes ended. Half of New England is underwater. About an hour ago, the sky finally ran out of rain. I thought about Ray Collins and water budgets as I sloshed through the park by my apartment, and as I came up the hill from the tennis courts, there was Strathmore, with its rain-laden branches glistening in the late afternoon sun. All at once, every third week of May that I can recall hit my senses as one damp, leafy deluge. For the last four years, at least, this week has been a week of return to a Berncliffe newly alive with full maple leaves, buds and pollen littering the sidewalks, and tulips in front of all of our houses. With another school year behind me, I would open my bedroom windows wide, breathe it all in, and wonder what the hell I could do about finding a summer job. That pattern, it seems, that triumphant return to Berncliffe and to spring, has finally been broken, for better or worse. Here at Strathmore, though, the feel of it, the smell of it, and the sense of renewal is much the same. In a matter of days, I will have finished the last of my term projects and half of my degree at Harvard. My long distance relationship of nearly a year has ended in success, and I couldn't be happier about the prospects of sharing this summer and my continuing adventures in this city with the young woman that I love. I've got a great feeling about this one, and this third week of May, though it's been soggy, has done no wrong by me yet.
Albany, for its part, has decided to keep the score settled and visit me over the past few weekends. Zonca stayed three nights at Strathmore, arriving on business (he's pretty much a nanotech tycoon by now) but staying for the booze. The Brothers Campbell and Sean Mack also turned up for two hilarious nights of wanton irresponsibility that weekend, and even though I hid in my room for most of it while drinking Vitamin Water, for a few shining moments I damn near almost enjoyed myself. That Saturday, we played Smash 5 with a $1.49 CVS ball. It was an all-Albany affair, but Marissa, of course, was welcome too. Mike has been doing much better over the past few weeks. We've met up a couple of times, mostly for food, and mono or herpes or whatever he had is mostly out of his system. Anyway, that big weekend culminated with Zonca committing heinous acts of tourism (including the purchase of more than one mug from Cheers), which didn't completely end until his departure around 6:30pm that Sunday evening. Immediately afterwards, I fell asleep for fourteen hours. It had been well-earned. On both of the weekends since, my parents have come to transfer Mike to and from home. The result, of course, has been that I've been eating better than usual. The first weekend, we showed my parents around Harvard Square and my school, and just this past weekend, we hit the steakhouse at Landmark Center with Jenn and Marissa in our company as well. It's been a good arrangement.
It's been a week and a half since my life changed again. Jenn and I picked our relationship back up. My ring is back on my finger, and there's a new one on hers. We're going to have to put a lot of work into rebuilding the great thing that we had at the time we left Canisius, but I can't wait to start that process off. The important thing is that we made it through a year apart. Even though she and her mother have been busy getting everything in order, she's already spent a lot of time with me, and it's only going to get better. Guys, I really, really like that one. That's all I have to say about that.
The last point of business is that I've accepted a position writing web content for the Mihos campaign this summer. Christy Mihos is an independent candidate in this year's gubernatorial election in Massachusetts. He's a real maverick, and the best part is that he's pissing off everyone in the current governor's Republican establishment by running. I'm really, really excited about getting the job, and I'm starting into it immediately after finishing my coursework. So, the third week of May is here, the leaves are fresh and dripping with rain, and it's the same old song, but I've got a job. My girlfriend is back. I'm ready for the season at Strathmore, and Berncliffe is in my heart. It looks like I'm finally on my way.

4/26/06 12:50pm It's pretty easy for me to believe that this semester is almost over.The end of this one has taken, in my opinion, much too long in coming. Fortunately, though, my end-of-term workload shouldn't be nearly as bad as it was last time -- in other words, I'm probably only going to end up pulling one all-nighter instead of three or four. I understand, though, that announcing the specifics of your assignments to an online audience isn't very interesting at all, so I'll omit the details. Suffice it to say that it's going to be easier this time. And it's just as well, because in a couple of weeks, my life is going to be taking another big turn, and I couldn't be happier about that.
So I wrapped up the most action-packed Holy Week that I can remember with a trip to Durgin Park for Easter dinner with my brother, inspired mostly by familial preference. When push came to shove in deciding where to go, I guess, we ended up where we felt most at home. At least, that's the way I interpreted it. We ate our ham dinners and took a little stroll up to Boston Harbor before calling it a day. Meanwhile, the rest of our family was kicking up their heels in Savannah while making their way down the coast for a week of sun and blue water. I was, and still am, very jealous.
At any rate, Easter gave way to Marathon Monday: Patriot's Day, a local holiday, which, of course, is not observed at Harvard. I blew off class, at any rate, to have some pancakes with the Boston College crew. The girls had a great view of Comm Ave, everyone was hanging out on the balcony, Mike Sainato was in town and causing trouble, and within twenty minutes I realized that I was not up for standing around for several hours just to watch hundreds of people run by. I went up to school, did my state taxes, played on the computer a bit, and decided to call it a day. The race was still going when I made it back to Brighton, my usual bus route was diverted (read: prematurely terminated), so I had to walk from Brighton Center down Chestnut Hill Avenue to Cleveland Circle, where the marathon had snaked down the hill and rushed left onto Beacon Street. I had to cross the race in order to get home, but that wasn't very exciting either. I waited for a lapse in the stream of runners, and I crossed. There were people everywhere. Strathmore was blocked off. It was really neat.
My attempts to stop wasting my money by eating at restaurants were thwarted again, of course, by my desire to be, as Zonca once put it, "social." From Chilean sandwiches with Brother Dan to Pad Thai and bubble tea with my six friends from Harvard to a macaroni-and-cheese excursion to Rock Bottom with the Strathmore cohort, it's all been adding up. I went grocery shopping last night, and I'm going to try and cut down on my cost-per-meal factor this week, but when Jenn gets here it'll all likely unravel anyway, and I suppose that while I'm young and hip, I might as well enjoy the ride. Meanwhile, though, I might revert to the ramen-and-Chef Boyardee fare of my Quake days. No, on second thought, no I won't. Never mind. Frozen quiche for the win.

4/13/06 8:16pm A couple of pressing concerns. The first is theatre at Harvard Divinity School. After only a handful of rehearsals, our class succeeded in putting up a passion play in Andover Chapel. It ran for two nights, this past Monday and Tuesday, and was quite intentionally staged during Holy Week. I played the Gospel of John, mainly because of my own theological estrangement with elevated Christology, atonement theology, and the like. In other words, I disagreed with John the Evangelist so much that I had no choice but to try his words out with my own mouth. Naturally, there were a whole lot of learning moments. I opted to play the part with the utmost reverence. My classmates suggested something like a "hippie mystic," and one even prescribed a feather boa, but my reading of John, I thought, demanded much more solemnity. Here was a guy who was so awestruck, so convinced of this miracle of Reason herself enfleshed in some schmuck artisan kid from Northern Palestine, fully aware that his purpose was to give it all up in order to quite literally save all of creation from death, or from "missing the mark" of right action, or as I've construed it, of falling out of line with the clarion call to cosmic stewardship and responsibility. So I got up there in front of scholars and critics and both lay and clerical religious types and I actually gave it my all to give both John the Evangelist and the object of his admiration their fair due. The response from the Harvard Divinity School community has been pretty fantastic. By all accounts, our class put together a show that was fresh, innovative, incisive, and unabashed in presenting the four different passion accounts and their political, social, and even emotional implications over the last two thousand years. I honestly had no idea that we were going to pull it off so tightly. I miss Little Theatre very, very much. In terms of production values, I will freely admit that the HDS Passion Play was lacking in a few important respects. The lighting sucked powerfully, for example. I tried to find ways to save or otherwise import the LT experience to Harvard -- I even had them going with "a proper cup of coffee" -- but I understood pretty quickly that there's no going back. My "oh yeahs" were muted, repeated only to myself before heading up on stage on Monday night (and who puts a show up on Monday night? I mean, honestly). As with the rest of my graduate school experience, though, it was a transition. There were new lessons to be learned, new friends to be made, and new traditions to honor. It was a new music, through and through. By the end of the run, though, I was singing along. People stopped me in the halls and said, "You were the Gospel of John." And I said, "Word."
My relationship with Jenn hit the eighteen month mark yesterday, and I can honestly say that it feels like it's been longer than that. The past... wow, almost a year now... has been pretty difficult. We're so close to the end of the long distance nonsense, though, that I'm really starting to get excited. I want to date that girl again. This week she's been taking a renewed interest in World of Warcraft, and that's made me really happy. Honestly, as a way to "hang out" with my brother and my old Canisius friends, and now Mark and Tom, it seriously cannot be beat. I got to run around with Jenn, help her explore, I killed probably hundreds of monsters for her over the weekend, and now she's like more than a third of the way to the level cap. She mostly likes making clothes for herself, dancing, and typing in cute /emote messages. I am of the opinion that she's pretty perfect for me. That's about all of the gushing that I'm going to do right now, though.
Meanwhile, I've got only three weeks of classes left in the semester, somehow. I really need to get on the ball and finish things off strong. The play has been taking up a ton of my time, as plays are wont to do, but now it's pretty much time to let my professors know that I'm at least moderately serious about my academic work here. Meanwhile, I'm still looking (and a little more frantically now) for a way to make money this summer. Hopefully I can resolve that sooner than later.
As usual, today's faith sharing and Bible study meeting with the guests at St. Francis House both amazed and inspired me. As we went back over various passages of Passover preparation in both the Old and New Testaments alike, my experiences with the HDS Passion Play reverberated, and it all took on newer, richer meaning. And as usual, the guests had some pretty top-notch theological insights, effectively making my job pointless (as, I think, is any teacher's intent). We echoed some of what was also said at the Jewish and Muslim Seder event that was held at the Divinity School on Tuesday evening: it's time to look for whatever chametz is holding me down and chuck it out the window. This is Passover, after all, and the end of oppression, both externally and self-inflicted, is at hand.

4/10/06 11:05pm I really, really miss Little Theatre. "The stars at night... are big and bright!"

4/2/06 5:19pm So I brought my bike back to Boston with me, and today I decided to get out and see what I could see. It was absolutely gorgeous, perfect riding weather, and it seemed like the entire city was out and about and enjoying the day. I pedaled through Brookline Village, across the Riverway, skirted around the Longwood medical area, up on the north side of the Fenway, down the Back Bay to the Prudential Center and Copley Square, and down Boylston all the way to the Public Gardens, the Common, and the State House. People were absolutely everywhere, eating ice cream, stretched out on blankets, listening to their iPods, and I suddenly wished that I could do all of the above, relax with the girlfriend and a good book, and enjoy a leisurely Sunday afternoon. Winter, as far as I can tell, is dead, and I couldn't be happier about it right now. I cut across Beacon Hill to the Hatch Shell, then rode along the Charles from the Hatch to Harvard, which was a pretty good trek. It was a great day for sailing, and I was jealous of all of the people out on their little boats. The Charles River Reservation was clogged with people walking, jogging, blading, biking, you name it. I thought to myself, "Wow, this is like a city full of active people." I guess the early nice days of spring really do that to people, and I'm no exception to that. When I hit the Business School, I turned down Harvard Street and biked through Allston, across the Turnpike and Comm Ave and back into Brookline. Absolutely gorgeous. I can't wait to explore more of the area during the weeks to come.

4/1/06 11:34am It feels good to be on the road again. I really do start to go crazy if I'm stuck in town for very long. On the one hand, of course, I value the idea of having roots. I lived in Albany for like twenty years, after all, and I'm a definite believer in staying put and developing a long-standing role in a community. On the other hand, though, I'm reminded of what my parents told me about why they stayed in Albany: "We like Albany because it's easy to get away from." The greatest thing about having roots is that they're still going to be there if you decide to split for a weekend, for a season, for a couple of years, or whatever. So, anyway, the point is that I love to skip town, and since college and grad school commitments have taken hold of my time, I haven't been able to as often as I'd have liked. Whenever I do find myself traveling, though, it seems like I can't help but consider how much I really value travel.
Two nights in Buffalo were not enough. I got to see a good number of friends, of course, but there were some notable absences from the program, and I can't help but feel like I sort of snubbed some people by spending more time with Jenn, the Daggerspine nerds, and the GMH girls. I don't really regret it, though. I had a great time... there just wasn't enough of it. I did get to see a good selection of the faculty and staff who I care about. I did get to stretch out longingly on the clubroom sofa for a hot second. My shoes did make it to their proper place in the Honors House foyer. I got to see a great Little Theatre show... and I got to be insanely proud of one Tony Tyrpak, with whom I am tight like a tiger. An eclectic cache of memories was promptly unlocked by a cup of Early Grey at SPoT downtown, and I fully appreciated the power that an old aroma can really hold. We hit Prima's upstairs; we collided with Bob Grabowski in the Theatre District. Mike, Byron, and The Blur were ready with a LAN party. I did some much-needed catching up with John Loeser. Derek met us at the Anchor Bar, and we ate just like we used to. Jon Bard met John Bucki. I split Skittles with the girl. The proper players had pie and pita at Pano's. I stumbled upon a thriving clutch of nerds in the commuter lounge. Jenn was fantastic, and our relationship was as fun and spontaneous and hilarious and as natural as it ever was. Honestly, that girl drives me crazy. We wrapped it up at mass on Sunday morning, which I've really missed. Shook hands with Fr. Lynch, Mr. Donovan, Mary Lou Wyrobek, and it was back on the road: Utica from a new (yet altogether familiar) angle. Another mass. The Bishop of Syracuse. I got to share the joy of family gatherings in Utica with Jenn, and I can't begin to explain how happy that made me. In the nature of both the weekend and the Maneen house, I ate very well. In the way back to Albany, in the dark, everything fell perfectly into place. I love that girl, and I love that road.
Albany was lazy, and mostly perfect. I got out of jury duty on Monday afternoon, and footloose and fancy free, I walked up the hill to the Capitol and across the Plaza alone. It was beautiful outside, and it stayed that way for the entire week. We played video games, ate well, watched movies, saw friends, and had a good time. We got a housewarming hyacinth for Mark and Emily. On Wednesday, I round-tripped it to Boston, bringing Mike back to work and Marissa, and Jenn to Logan and our last month of this long-distance nonsense. It was an expensive day, but I rode it all out. I slammed back across the Bay State, met up with some cronies in a bowling alley, then went home and to bed, completely exhausted. I stayed long enough to see Tom bowl a turkey. The next night, I saw them again, watched Arrested Development for the first time and enjoyed it. Tom made cookies. Zonk swore up and down that he would come to see my parents and I on Friday night. He didn't. It was gorgeous outside yesterday, so I took a little stroll. When my parents came home from work, we decided to walk to Spinner's as a family for dinner. Adrienne freaked out, and Jon was like "mIdunno; Idoncare; dashaweshome." It was another highlight of my week.
So now I'm sitting in the car, and we're making our way back to Boston again. Mike seems to be doing better. Jenn is back at work, and preparing for another transition. I'm a lucky, lucky guy. My spring break was great: I saw friends and family, walked through some valued memories, made some new ones, ate well, got some "phat loots," saw the Empire State Building, shared Pano's apple pie and Spectrum popcorn with a great girl, and succeeded in getting out of jury duty. I've got some class work to catch up on, but then again, I've never not had class work to catch up on. Case dismissed.

3/19/06 10:17pm I've just come out of the worst week and the best weekend of the semester thus far. The details of the lows are not all that important. I felt terrible for most of the week. My heart was nowhere to be found in Boston -- not in the classroom, not at work, not at home. Everything about me wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. On Friday, I made my escape: a Greyhound to Portland, and two days with my aunt, uncle, and cousins. I slept during reasonable hours. I played games and read bedtime stories. I ate really, really well. Pretty much everything fell into place, and quite literally over night, I emerged from whatever battle I thought I had been fighting, and there I was, whole and ready to go. Pomegranate spritzers. Portland Head. Hiked up a cobblestone hill with Kaj on my back. Organic licorice. Visions of a future with Jenn. I'm back in Boston, feeling fine, and four days between me and Buffalo. I'm ready for the week. I'm ready for work, I'm ready for school. I'm ready for the rest of my life.

3/13/06 10:56pm Bad days in the city, by necessity, involve bad transit luck. I watched two buses and a train rumble past me today. I was no more than about ninety seconds too late for all three of them. I'm not too happy about it.

3/7/06 10:53pm A Tuesday in Greater Boston. Using a very haphazardly-devised system of three alarms -- two on my cell phone, two hours apart, and one on my real alarm clock, on the floor, several feet away, set contemporaneously with the second cell phone alarm -- I drag myself into the kitchen and slug down some orange juice (with pulp). As I drink, sunlight floods in through the kitchen window, and an outbound 'D' train clatters by on the tracks just outside. Fighting the urge to run back to bed, I take a shower, brush my teeth, pull on some clothes -- jeans, a t-shirt, that grey Eddie Bauer sweater I bought in October, when Jenn was up -- and decide which of my school things to collect into my backpack. I remember that I actually made myself a sandwich the night before, so I throw that, along with a banana and a strip of fruit leather, into a plastic bag, which also goes into the backpack. My glasses are on, scarf, coat, I'm out the door. At Reservoir Station, none of the idling buses seem to be mine. It's pretty warm out. I wait. The 86 rolls in, it picks us up, and we're off. It's crowded, and stops everywhere. I recognize a lot of the people. Nobody ever talks to one another, though.
Brighton Center. Brighton Mills. Soldier's Field. The stadium, the Business School. The Charles. The Kennedy School. Harvard Square. Harvard Yard. I walk through it again, always vaguely aware of nearly four centuries of American academic history. I don't look at that damn statue. Sever Hall, a classroom, some friends, I squeeze into a very uncomfortable chair. The bells in Memorial Church strike nine. It's pretty dramatic, actually. I get a Harvard lecture about Dorothy Day's affinities and aversions to feminism, to radicalism, to Reinhold Niebuhr, to the kitchen sink. I don't really participate.
After class, I buy a Vitamin Water and a Gatorade (for more comparative analysis) and descend into the cool dampness of Harvard's 'T' station. Thirty yards down the platform, there's some poor fellow fumbling through Eleanor Rigby on the cello, alone. They're rushing through it, they're missing notes. Nobody is enjoying themselves. I take a sip of the Vitamin Water -- the purple kind -- and wonder, "Where do they all come from?"
Pahk Street. The Common. St. Francis House, a day shelter for Boston's poor and homeless. I wave to the security guard on my way in, walk through the metal detector (which doesn't work), ascend to the sixth floor. I realize that there's no way I can turn a grant proposal around, start to finish, with letters of reference, in ten hours. My supervisor has given me an impossible assignment. She realizes it, too, so we scrap it. New assignment. Later deadline, some emphasis on our nondenominational pastoral counseling. Right up my alley. I can do that. I eat my sandwich, banana, and fruit leather. I pull the Gatorade out of my backpack only to discover that I grabbed the wrong kind (Orange?!) instead of good old Lemon-Lime. I drink it anyway. Tastes like Tang. I punch out most of a letter to an executive of some Bible distributor. I talk to Brother Dan about getting a haircut.
Back in Cambridge, I get my hair cut, and pay six dollars extra (price notification after the damage was done) to have my beard trimmed. Furious, but glad my hair is cut. I trudge over to the usual place in Brattle Square where I buy cards and gifts, and minutes later I'm mailing out a birthday card. Mailing things makes me feel good.
Late afternoon, 4:30, and for the first time all day, I'm at the Divinity School. Community Tea. I grab at some little finger sandwiches, pineapple, chips and salsa, pound cake. Two or three of those tiny half-pint Poland Springs bottles. At Community Tea, we (theoretically) network, greet our friends and acquaintances, engage in "dialogue," whatever that really entails, and mostly stand around being social. I spend most of it with Luke and Tim, then Laine, then Dusty. Rena wants to hit a taqueria, any taqueria, it's Felipe's on Mt. Auburn, not a bad decision. I wonder about whether or not I should serve alcohol at an upcoming gathering. We talk like friends who are comfortable around one another, and by now, we really are. I break into some rant about Bubble Tea, we find it, nobody's around, I get cold feet, and we leave. They buy some school supplies, and I put off buying a messenger bag for my computer. The 86 takes me back across the Charles, and towards home.
My girlfriend is frustrated with me, and rightly so, because I've been pretty Eeyore-tastic as of late. This topic dominates most of the conversation on the ride home. She's gone by the time I arrive at Reservoir. I cut through the trainyard at the end of the line, Cloud Strife-style. I come home to an empty apartment, which I begin cleaning. It feels good to work, to move. I sign online, check the usual pages, farm for an hour in the Hearthglen, no good drops. I spend most of the time talking to Jon, who is pretty much one of my best friends right now. I can dig it.
I take another shower, and completely shave off the beard. I look much younger. I talk to Jenn as she falls asleep, and remember again why it's all worthwhile. My music filters purposefully through the tinny laptop speakers, and I hit my stride for the first time all day, in what is literally the day's eleventh hour. I'm going to keep moving. I've got to keep moving. There's going to be so much more to it than this.

3/2/06 7:08pm Things are going basically okay. Sort of. I guess. I mean, my classes are pretty good. Work is alright. I see my friends every once in awhile. I still have Jenn, and she still more or less likes me. Yeah. I'm kind of in a slump right now, but I guess I'll just chalk it up to the season. Thankfully, though, it's March, and things will start getting mixed up pretty soon. I hope.
So I got a new computer, and I pretty much love it. I've never had a laptop, so I'm thoroughly enjoying the ability to send e-mails or visit Zombo.com (all completely wireless) from bed or from the living room sofa or wherever else. It's also sleek and silver, plays DVDs, and is Bluetooth-ready. I'm still trying to figure out how to get it to do the dishes, though.
Over the weekend, I went square dancing with the Episcopalians, at the request of Laine and for the purpose of improving Tim's love life, so I couldn't possibly decline. I had a wonderful time. That's more or less all I have to say about that. I went to an event at BC on Monday, something about Catholicism and politics. Tim Russert was there, and some pretty prominent liberal and conservative strategists/writers/thinkers/quasi-celebrities, but they didn't have too much to say other than, "Yeah, you can be a Catholic and hold to any sort of political position: it just depends how much you're willing to disagree with the Church." All in all, pretty unsatisfying, a lot of posturing, little substance other than some contrived debate on hot-button issues like abortion, gay marriage, and the like. Again, the general theme... "meh." I honestly wish this post was more interesting. Pretty soon, though, I'll probably be going to Maine, and soon after that, to Buffalo, so that should shake things up a little. Yeah. Time for more shaking up, and definitely more Episcopalian square dancing.

2/7/06 8:26pm So I basically broke my computer last week, and so far it's been the best thing that's happened to me in quite some time. Classes have started up again, and I'm completely psyched about all of them. For starters, I'm jumping back onto the "rusty Greek bicycle" to knock off one of my degree requirements, and if Monday's class was any indication, the whole experience will be challenging, competitive, and a whole lot of fun. Not wasting time on the computer has meant a great deal of opportunity to brush up on my verbs n' particles. I've also been vigorously attacking the reading lists for my other courses: Religious Belief and Moral Action, which surveys "moral exemplars" in Christianity, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam; Administration and Leadership, for which I'll basically become a non-profit management consultant; and a course on Passion plays, which will bring together my interests in religion and theatre in some odd but exciting new ways. This semester's course load will require a whole new level of personal responsibility on my part, but I am completely in the zone right now, so I feel that I'm more than up to the challenge.
Going computerless has also afforded me more chances to let people know that I really do exist, and, moreover, that I am a pretty good guy. On the Strathmore end of things, this has mostly meant that I have been sighted making frequent crotchety old man comments and watching Legends of the Hidden Temple on the Nickelodeon Games and Sports channel. Recent discoveries in our basement have also led to a much more refined décor in the apartment (dual candelabra accentuating the bust of the White Ranger? yes please), and the coming of Chit Lau, I would argue, ushered in a new era of integration and mutual appreciation for all of Strathmore's denizens, which is a very good thing. I've also been hanging out quite a bit more in Cambridge, which has been positive for the social life, my productivity, and my general demeanor.
This past weekend, I helped celebrate Mike Bard's birthday by hitting up the Bull & Finch Pub, better known as "Cheers." We went into it knowing, of course, that the place is a shameless tourist trap. Everything is wicked expensive. The chicken wings, though, were actually really, really good, and Mike tells me that they have twenty-five cent wing deals on Mondays and Tuesdays, so we might have to check up on that. Anyway, it was great to finally get a chance to go there... it seems like I've been in Boston long enough to warrant such a pilgrimage, however trite. The bottom line, though, is that I had a really good time, and walking the length of the Back Bay with Mike (feigning "crunkenness") and his Wentworth buddies was priceless.
On a pop culture-type note, I saw Labyrinth for the first time over the weekend, and it was almost completely terrible, except for the ridiculous dance numbers featuring David Bowie and a room full of ugly muppets. I can finally say, though, that I've been through the whole experience and survived. Not having a computer at home, I think, will also help me to tear through my Netflix queue that much more quickly. So it goes, then... I'm suddenly empowered and jump-starting this here spring semester, courtesy of a quality twist of fortune. Cheers.

1/30/06 8:21pm Looks like I've got some 'splaining to do. Over the past month or so, I've filled up my plate, wasted more than my fair share of perfectly good days, assaulted my schoolwork and my health, enjoyed the warmth and company of my family and friends, and turned a critical eye towards my general attitude and discipline as a graduate student thus far. I've been welcomed, trapped, scolded, praised, addicted, tempted, impressed, encouraged, loved, and a whole slew of other verbs in the passive voice. I've seen tons of faces, both old and new. I've done just enough traveling to satisfy my long-felt passion for going places. I've traded blows with Harvard final papers, which are basically like everyone else's final papers. It has not been an easy time to understand or write about, which, I guess, is why this entry has been so long in coming.
Festivus, I have to admit, exceeded my expectations. I was under the impression that the event had peaked in 2004. I figured that this year's turnout would be a bit lower. I had a feeling that the gathering would end up being a quieter, or otherwise less-than-spirited, run-through of the holiday's motions. I guess, now that I think about it, I feared that Festivus would finally start to go the way of all the other holidays I've come to devalue and ignore, becoming forced or conviction-deprived or otherwise diluted. I was dead wrong. Here were friends who had come in from Buffalo, Connecticut, Rhode Island. Here were Schuman's Jordan almonds, diligently delivered by the man himself. Here was a metal pole, stark and unadorned, looming large over an eclectic gathering of friends and strangers offering each other accusations, insults, affronts, and raucous laughter -- even more raucous, by many accounts, than that of years past. Here were friends of friends coming into the Bard household for the first time, visiting and laughing with the old mainstays -- the Mike Zoncas, Tom Owenses, Dave Kennedys, Mark Staufenbergs, Dave Frances of the world. Here was a pile of shoes at the door, my mom with a notepad tallying visitors in the living room, A. Scott and the Blur unfurling a table-length sandwich, marshmallows over a fire on the patio out back, and suddenly I understood that everything was just fine. Festivus had come in its old and proper fashion; I was proven wrong once again by mirth.
Christmas was pretty typical, although I didn’t get that peculiar existential twinge on Christmas morning, and this is the first year in recent memory in which it hasn’t happened. By this I mean that, at least traditionally, I’ll be sitting on the couch in my pajamas, stocking in my lap, hair still mussed up from the previous night’s sleep, basking in the glow of the lights on the tree, and I’ll involuntarily get this notion that, "hey, that’s something, it’s Christmas again, and a whole 'nother year has led me to sit right back here on this couch." And somehow the weight of that sudden appreciation of the moment usually knocks me right out for a second or two. That didn’t happen this year. I was, for whatever reason, numb to that specific phenomenon. Either way, though, I enjoyed myself and being with my family immensely, so I guess the absence of the old twinge is not a big deal. Utica, as usual, was hysterical. Since Tutu got rid of the living room rug, though, the event is no longer conducive to wrestling. That’s probably for the best, because Jon Bard has significantly increased in both strength and girth since even the summer, and I’m certain that he could just snap me in half if he really wanted to. I love my aunts and cousins to death. Honestly, I look forward to the discussions -- alright, the coarse strands of gossip -- that fly across Tutu’s dining room table more... yeah, more than pretty much every other aspect of the holiday. Syracuse, of course, has its own charm, and Grandpa Bard destroyed me, and I do mean utterly destroyed me, twice on the old chessboard. I guess I still have a hell of a lot to learn about seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.
My free time in Albany over Christmas ended up amounting to two and a half days, which I filled with movies at the Spectrum with Sarah Dunn, unfocused acts of nerdetry with Mark (including a stopover at Earthworld Comics), and a Wednesday night at Del Lanes, to which we dragged Allyson Schettino. Things got pretty close to "old times," albeit with the completely notable absence of Billy Busacker. I miss that guy pretty keenly.
Somewhere over the Long Island Sound, I realized that I flew more in 2005 than I’d flown in every other year of my life, combined. I blame this development on two factors: the irritating distance between Buffalo and Boston, and Jenn Huer. I love flying, though, and I seem to have an unreasonable amount of fun when traveling alone. My long weekend in Atlanta was damn near perfect. I couldn’t have imagined spending New Year’s Eve with anyone but Jenn, and being down there reminded me of every single reason why I’m hanging on to this long-distance relationship. I love that girl. It’s as simple as that. We exchanged gifts, we watched the Peach Drop, we went to the movies. Her mother was nice to me, too: she took me to the Fernbank Museum at Emory, where they have dinosaurs. Seriously... dinosaurs. I honestly and truly appreciated the sensitivity to my childhood passion, and there was bacon, and I learned a new card game. I’m pretty easy to please. The icing on the cake was that, for once, I didn’t freeze my ass off on New Year’s Eve.
Everything was going great until I landed in Philadelphia, with my returning flights already delayed two hours. I staggered into a crowded terminal only to find out that no one had any idea when my connecting flight was really coming in, or whether it was actually coming in at all. "Alright," I said, "I can deal with this. I can get myself a cheese steak and relax." Unfortunately, I hadn't completely realized the gravity of the situation: I was not only trapped in Philadelphia, but I was also trapped in a Philadelphia. I went up to the cheese steak counter in the terminal and said, "Hey, can I have a cheese steak?" and the guy answered, "No, we only have cold wraps and sandwiches." I settled on two slices of pretty bad pizza (and they only had plain cheese) from another vendor. Then I thought, "Well, I'll just grab the Times, because it's Tuesday, and I really love reading the Tuesday science section." But they didn't have the Times. All they had was USA Today, and there was no way in hell I was going to read that. Just as all of the vendors began to close for the night, I bought a pack of Twizzlers, and I sat, with no reading material, listening to Christmas-time elevator music on January 3rd. For four hours. The closest thing I had to entertainment, no joke, was an exhibition of glass paperweights crafted by some guy from New Jersey. If you ever have the opportunity to have a flight connection in Philadelphia, don't. You may end up in a Philadelphia.
From there, everything kind of descended into a vicious spiral of sleeping in until odd hours of the afternoon, playing too much World of Warcraft, working on four term papers, and growing a beard. For about two weeks, I pretty much lived on pizza and Gatorade, my room degenerated into some kind of festering nerd lair, and I learned more about North American Protestant fundamentalism than I ever planned to know, with three out of my four papers converging eerily on that religious movement. I apologize to anyone who crossed my path during those two weeks. I was more or less delirious. I left way too much to the last minute. I pulled three all-nighters in seven days. It was rough. I digress.
I made my escape on the Lakeshore Limited, and the Berkshires truly did seem dreamlike from my window on the train, which chugged lazily along the legendary route I had heard about but never taken. I was very happy to see my parents. Tom, Mark, and Zonk took me out to a Rats game (hilarious), and I couldn't help but think of my girl waving to the crowd from the top of the zamboni. I had a very modest birthday celebration at home, then hopped a Greyhound bound for Boston on the second snowy day of this strange winter.
Right now, things are looking good. I've decided to start coming out of my room in Strathmore, and so far that's been looking like a decision I should have made awhile ago. I'm excited about classes starting back up again, and I'm just about ready to launch myself more earnestly into my work at St. Francis House. Jenn has already started receiving her acceptances from different grad schools, and it's all I can do to keep myself from gushing over with support and encouragement for her and her next move. I have a new winter coat, and it's been keeping me wicked cozy. Mike Bard is tonsil-free and kickin' in his new internship in Chelsea. Lastly and quite significantly, I'm finally starting to want to be at Harvard Divinity School, and I personally think that it's about damn time I started acting like it.

12/22/05 3:43pm Marissa is on her way into Brookline. I am finally. Going. Home.

12/18/05 4:28pm Thanks to a recent decision made by a former General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, I now only "kind of," "sort of" have to do any work before leaving Boston for the holidays. That decision is really, really not helping me to get things done around here. Neither is my annual contraction of the common cold, which has been making me nothing if not generally irritable and un-fun to talk to (just ask my girlfriend). I responded to all of this by staying in bed for roughly thirteen hours just now, and I actually feel pretty good. I don't know how much work I'm going to get done on my paper today, but perhaps I can still find productive ways to spend my time. I'm insanely jealous of all of the college kids who are already home for the holidays. The bright side, though, is that in less than a week it'll be Festivus, and in less than two weeks I'll be spending time with my best friend, and not freezing my ass off on New Year's, for once. It's only a matter of time!

12/11/05 9:33pm New hobby/joy: church hopping. I woke up this morning, realized I had to find a good Protestant sermon to evaluate, and hit the road. The sun was out, the snow was melting steadily, not a cloud in the sky, and really, it was the perfect day for a Sunday stroll. A block away from my house, I stumbled into All Saints Episcopal... about a third of the way into the sermon. The preacher was pretty good, she seemed to be pretty well in step with her community, some solid nods to current events and scripture, and it was all in the right place, but I missed the whole setup so I really had no idea about what she was referring back to. When it was over, the congregation stood up to sing, and I bolted. I rode the 'T' to Copley Square and stealthily schlepped into the Old South Church, which was about twenty-five minutes into what must have ended up being at least a one-hour-and-forty-five-minute affair. The Old South Church is really, really beautiful inside, and there were a lot of white women in festive red sweaters emblazoned with little gold Christmas tree pins, their husbands sitting beside them in suit jackets. The preacher was awesome, I totally got the feeling that she's revered by her community, and seriously, she had great poise and intelligence, and I would probably vote for her if she ran for President. Anyway, I booked it during the doxology, which was to the same tune as the one sung at Bethany but with different, yet still Trinitarian, lyrics. Something about the beauty of the day and the good spirits I got from a double dose of organized religion really got me going, so I took a delightful stroll from Copley Square to the Massachusetts State House, by way of Boylston Street, the Public Gardens, and Boston Common. I was so psyched, I even called home to ramble about it. Easily the best Sunday morning of the entire semester, if not the year.

12/7/05 10:42pm For whatever reason, I totally had the wind at my back today. Work was great... really productive discussion at Bible study, had a delightful lunch with Brother Dan, and got really engrossed in writing a holiday "contact cultivation" letter to recent funders. I moved into a different cubicle, too, and now I'm not susceptible to sneak attacks from assassins or anything of the sort, at least from behind. I'm really attack-vector conscious, and anyone who has ever been to a restaurant with me can attest to this... I choose the seat that is, as far as I can tell, the least vulnerable to ninjas or other covert types. This might be a symptom of some serious mental issue, but that really doesn't bother me. Anyway, after work, I went up to school to read for a little while, looked over a case study featuring community development credit unions, and decided that I'm going to be a banker when I grow up. The bus on the way home was wicked crowded, but I get on before it goes through Harvard Square, so I got to sit and read for the whole trip home. Later, I ate cashews, a banana, and some mission figs, and got "Paint It Black" stuck in my head. In conclusion, it has been a pretty good day.

11/30/05 4:24pm I should be in class right now, but it's pouring outside, I'm exhausted, and all in all, I've been acting really emo about pretty much everything since I've gotten back to Boston. My health and work ethic are suffering as a result, but the worst part of it is that I'm mostly taking it out on Jenn, because she's pretty much the only person I talk to on a regular basis. I think that we're all in agreement that it needs to stop. Immediate solutions to the problem include eating right, sleeping more, focusing on getting more out of my school and work time, jumpstarting my social life, and not playing nearly as much World of Warcraft. I'm so fed up with things right now, though, that I just might flip out and enact all of those changes. Seriously, the sooner the better.

11/27/05 7:46pm Saw an awful lot of Mike Bard in the past week or so, attended 604 Skeletor's final game of the season, watched and loved The Goblet of Fire, dinner on the Fens with my family, the doors of opportunity opened wide when they left the Civic with us for a few days. Mike and I opted to use our temporary resources for a trip to Cape Cod... went for pizza at Carmine's so I could brag to Jenn, saw two lighthouses, successfully touched the ocean, Marissa stayed in the car, it was really, really cold, but we went for ice cream anyway. Called home, picked up some Grade B maple syrup as requested. Back in Boston it was just about time to close up shop for Thanksgiving, on Wednesday we sat in the classic Sturbridge traffic jam for two hours, I-90 shuffle for three days straight. Thanksgiving(s) were great. I hung out with my family, ate a lot of good food, cornucopiae on every table, the cousins split a pomegranate, played games, watched too much television, a couple of movies, hit the Fountain on Friday night, everything was well in a sleepy Albany, dusted over perfectly with snow. I was thinking about it, and I've got a hell of a lot to be thankful for. In the past year, I've finished my degree from a college that I absolutely loved, gotten accepted into a handful of great graduate school programs, fallen pretty conclusively in love with a phenomenal girl, been reminded constantly about the great friendships that I have and have been able to keep, seen the value and wonder that is my family (both immediate and extended), made a bunch of money over the summer and landed a job in Boston, and, finally, started a potentially life-defining adventure by enrolling at Harvard University. I've got little more than blessings rolling my way, and it's all I can do to come up with ways to live out my gratefulness and make sure that it's not all being wasted on the wrong guy. Seems like the holidays are upon us once more, and it's back to causing trouble in Boston for me.

11/13/05 7:46pm Autumn is definitely, completely, without a doubt, hands down my favorite season. I like the smell of it, the crispness in the air, the colors all over the place; I love pulling on a sweater, kicking through the leaves, vaguely following the football season, and most of all, I love cracking open a pomegranate, whether alone or with friends. The eight fleeting weeks between the middle of October and the middle of December constitute the only time throughout the entire year in which pomegranates are harvested and shipped here from California, and when the season rolls around, I generally go out of my way to enjoy it, even if it means dragging others into my fanatical designs. A good example of this tendency occurred only two nights ago, when a group of us were heading back from Laine's birthday dinner in Somerville. People were trying to decide how best to continue the social occasion, and my only offering was, "let's go buy some pomegranates and sit around and eat them." And we did.
So I'm pretty sure that things are going well for me in Boston. The biggest challenge has been in staying pro-active, both with my school work and with my social involvement at Harvard. Barriers to this pro-activeness have included general apathy, World of Warcraft, and my location in Brookline, but I've definitely gotten into a groove and things seem to be working themselves out. I have a small, yet high-quality core of friends at the Divinity school with whom I hang out on a pretty regular basis, and I feel very much at home in my classes, which are, by and large, fun, engaging, and challenging. Despite the commute, I love living in this apartment; Strathmore exploded into an incredible array of reds and golds a few weeks ago, I'm close to every possible kind of service that I need, and if ever things start to get dull, I can step out of my room and into a wild undergraduate party, replete with beer pong, tipsy girls wearing outfits far too small for their body types, and a steady stream of hip-hop. Suffice it to say that I knew exactly what I was getting into, and I am now in it.
The past month has also brought me back to a state of affairs that I missed very keenly during my time in Buffalo, namely, that something cool and different happens every weekend. My parents came up in October (and will again, apparently, next weekend), Sarah Dunn a week later, Jenn the weekend after that, then a trip to New York and Buffalo, and the last three days saw Strathmore play host to Mike Sainato and Erin Przylucki. Someone is always headed into town, there's always somewhere to go or something to see, and, as a consequence, I get to eat at restaurants and lunch counters and coffee shops and all kind of places that much more often. It's just exciting.
Jenn's visit was great. We went up to school, I introduced her to the requisite VIP's in my Boston life, we watched movies, went to museums, cheered for 604 Skeletor at Wentworth, and generally had a good time being together and celebrating the past year of our relationship. I miss that girl something fierce, and being able to spend time with her in October, the month in which she was born, the month in which we started dating, and the month that sees the beginning of pomegranate season, meant the world to me. Again, this long-distance stuff sucks, and I definitely sympathize with anyone who is currently in or has been in this kind of situation in the past. The upshot, I guess, is that it makes the time you do get together that much more special and vivid; riding on the 'T' was more fun, food that I cooked tasted better, and seriously, speed-walking through the Fens to get to a flag football game with homemade cheering signs and a carton of Goldfish? Priceless.
Last weekend was my trip to see The Merchant of Venice at Canisius. New York City was my springboard, though, and I spent an awesome evening with Allyson, Vic, and their friend Pat, mostly watching their antics on film and emptying my pockets at eateries in Hell's Kitchen. I can't believe I haven't seen them since January. Seriously, they are so much fun, and I wish I lived in Manhattan so I could work on projects with them. So much fun. After about three hours of sleep, I donned my ironed-and-defuzzed khakis and hopped the 'A' train (while whistling the song) to JFK, from which I flew to Buffalo. Honestly, I love flying. I completely love flying. I'd also peg JetBlue as one of my favorite companies ever; I'm sure they're evil or whatever on some level, but they definitely know how to treat their customers, and the whole experience was just really seamless and enjoyable. Dan Lance Dan picked me up from the airport, and suddenly I was on the 33, four amazing years came flooding back, a hero's welcome in the clubroom, visited a few professors and staffers on campus, gawked at the giganticness that is Eastwood Hall, went to dinner with the Honors House girls, tea with Lauren Woomer, saw a fantastic show full of new talent and older-and-better-than-ever talent, took Pano's by storm, crashed in the Honors House for one night, nerded it up with Brindy and Byron, hit the Anchor Bar to satisfy a months-long chicken wing craving, hung out at the show again, and then WoW-binged with Mike and Byron until the sun came up. The next day, Tony and Dan Lance (and The Blur's 6.1 megapixel camera) drove me clear across two states, which was an epic adventure in and of itself. I got to have dinner with my family, it was a great night for ice cream, Jon Bard got his Aviators back, we went through too many mini-discs, and by the time we made it back to Boston, I was too tired to try and figure out where Tony could park his car. Yeah. A great trip, great people, great food, great memories, and seriously, to be able to see Little Theatre in action, to behold that fully-functioning amoeba that I left behind, was just an amazing gift. I should probably add here, too, that Joe Spence completely rocked the house.
So now I'm at the beginning of the next week of this adventure, only two more before Thanksgiving, and I can honestly say that things are peachy keen. I've got a pomegranate waiting in the fridge, 80's rock blaring through Winamp, and another couple of sermons to read before Tuesday. Keep it coming!

10/16/05 8:08pm This morning, I saw the sun for the first time in over a week. The last several days were mostly spent battling through the cold and wet, something in the pit of my stomach kept me in bed on Wednesday morning, Jenn called to tell me that she felt it too, only hers turned out to be quite a bit worse than mine. Things seem to be a little bit better now, though, and the glare of the sun on the horizon over Chestnut Hill this evening reminded me that even the rainiest of weeks come to their ends eventually. Despite the weather n' plague, though, things haven't been all that bad. Wednesday marked the beginning of the second year of my relationship with Jenn, and looking back on how things have been thus far, I guess it's kind of amazing how much can happen for a person in twelve months. Spending Columbus Day apart was not the greatest feeling, but we were able to connect and conjure up images of last year over the phone, which was good. We do the best we can with what we have, after all. Suffice it to say that I'm very much in love with that girl, and that's pretty much how things are going to stay. But I digress.
So it was technically a short week, but the rain seemed to lengthen it quite a bit. On Wednesday night I was able to spontaneously bring Rena, Tim, and Anna along to a quick dinner at the Greenhouse in Harvard's Science Center, which is quickly becoming my on-campus eating location of choice. Most of us at the table admitted that we can't read Rawls to save our lives, which thoroughly reassured me on some level. On Friday, I went to see Hairspray with my brother, James, and Marissa. The show was alright, a lot of colors, a couple of sound issues, the cast was pretty solid; the musical as a whole, though, I can pretty much take or leave. On the bright side, we got student rush tickets, it only cost twenty-five bucks, so I consider it money appropriately spent. The biggest snag of the evening was losing both a pen (yes, one of those pens) and two subway tokens (that's like a two dollars and fifty cents) out of my pocket, apparently, in the theatre or in transit thereto. Meh. Yesterday was nice, my family showed up after taking Jon through some schools in Worcester, we picked up Mike and ate at the best North End ristorante I've been to so far, cannoli from Mike's Pastry, additional baked goods and a case of Gatorade from home... I definitely felt the love. It was a very welcome visit. Meanwhile, I was trying to keep tabs on my ailing girlfriend, she called back today sounding a whole lot better, I did more laundry in one shot than I've ever done in my entire life, got a very thick sandwich from Eagle's Deli, and now I'm bracing myself for the coming week. Time to keep it moving.

10/10/05 9:38pm An unmanageably dreary long weekend; when it rained, it poured. I spent way, way too much of it either sleeping or wasting time on the Internet. I figured out at some point last night how miserable I'd really gotten, and resolved to save today, Columbus Day, to sort of detoxify myself and get things back on track. I've been pretty successful so far: things kicked off properly with a wake-up call from Atlanta (best way I can think of to start the day), I cleaned myself up and launched into an all-out attack on my bedroom. I'm officially unpacked, finally, and I can see my floor now, which is a giant leap in the right direction. After that, I called my brother and we set off on something close to a Rudingerian "madcap trip" to find out exactly what lies at the end of the Blue Line. James Keenan was, as I had predicted, very much up for the trip as well, so we rode down to Government Center, transferred to the Blue, and the trolley's switch from third rail to overhead power at Logan Airport did well to signify the beginning of our foray into the unknown, which turned out to be Revere, Massachusetts. The overcast skies didn't help things much, but it turns out that Wonderland is a pretty misleading name. Mostly what's there is a gigantic abandoned parking lot in front of a dog racing track / gambling center, big oceanfront apartment complexes hewn out of coarse cement, a shopping center on a rotary, and a broken street clock at Revere Beach. As Mike Bard pointed out, though, the ocean actually smelled like the ocean, and even though it was sad and grey, I was still satisfied with having gotten out of Boston and to a point where I could look out on water that wasn't bounded by bridges or skyscrapers or an air traffic control tower. At any rate, it was a glimmer of a Columbus Day escape, but an escape nonetheless, and I was just looking for something to commemmorate escapes on Columbus Days past (both very recent and more distant). We rode back into town, went to a Chinese place that Mike knew about that was actually pretty good, tried the pumpkin ice cream from Cold Stone, and now I'm back in Brookline, reading a couple of sermons and policy memoranda before heading to bed. I can't believe it's only been a year since Becker Farms and The Square.

10/2/05 12:01am Midnight quiche. Just back from The Bad Plus concert, went with Bill Przylucki and a friend of his, really extremely talented group of artists, incredible range, great energy, very satisfying. The only missing element was Jenn, who is basically the reason why I went, and she doesn't even know it yet. At any rate, this was a good week, I'm settling down and settling into more of a groove here, amazing sights included the reading room at the Widener Library, a minute to rest on a crisp and cool day at the end of Long Wharf, and the inside of the Somerville Theatre, which was tonight's venue. Moments of connection with my professors this week were much more positive. Got caught in the rain on Thursday, but it wasn't so bad. Went to dinner with Aunt Patty, Amy, and Mike Bard last night; it was a thoroughly enjoyable affair. Aunt Patty insisted that we "get something good," that is to say, I think she was expecting us both to get steak or something, but I wasn't about to go that route... again, I'm a midnight quiche kind of guy.

9/26/05 9:25pm I'm a huge fan of autumn. Today I went to a laundromat, to the bank, and, a bit later, to the grocery store. Pretty mundane. I read Emerson's exceptional-beyond-exceptional 1838 Divinity School Address, which simultaneously gave a two-hundred-year-old "hell yeah" to most of what I believe in and kicked me back in the direction of seeking ordination in a random Protestant sect. I shook the latter impulse off, though, at least for the time being. Once again, I reminded myself that it probably wouldn't be fair of me to go around posing as an honest-to-goodness Christian, whatever that might even mean. The fact remains that Emerson's work really intrigues me, so I'm going to keep walking down that particular avenue for a time. I also read some economics papers on inequality and the so-called "American Exception," namely, why America has one of the widest gaps between rich and poor among the developed nations of the world. I was thrilled to find even a scant mention of religious factors in one of the articles, so maybe I'll have something to talk about in class come tomorrow.

9/21/05 8:14pm The good thing about my being an American is that buying things can actually make me happy sometimes. On my way home from school, I stopped at Staples and picked up computer paper, a combination lock, some binders, and a 512MB flash drive. It's pretty snazzy, came with two extra color skins so I can make it clear, blue, red, or any combination of two of the above, and right now, it's chillin' on my keychain. I took the train home as darkness fell over the Massachusetts Bay area, ripped open the packaging with the help -- and to the amusement -- of some good samaritans, swapped the clear for the blue skin, and popped the sucker on my keychain. At some point, I might actually put some data on there too. I thought for a second as I sat on the subway with my cell phone in my hand and my flash drive in my pocket that I've become some kind of sleazy technologized something-or-other, but I think it's just another bend in the river. Never the same Bard twice.

9/20/05 6:12pm Reality is advancing on my position a lot quicker than I had expected and, I guess I should add, much more forcefully than I'm comfortable with. Since I've been here, I've failed a Greek test, gotten myself all spiffed up on a Monday morning to interview for a job that I didn't get, gotten all excited about courses that turned out to be much less awesome than I had expected and hoped, and then there was today. I trudged off to Cambridge this morning with the tensions and stresses of maintaining a long-distance relationship and a recently-received reminder that all great couples don't last weighing heavily on my heart and mind. The sky was thoroughly overcast, I sat in on a class that didn't really supply the pizazz that I was hoping it might. In the Registrar's office, I received official confirmation that I had indeed failed last Friday's Greek exam. Wallace Best's American Sermons course kicked off to a good start, and I was all gung-ho about it as everyone pulled out their study cards to be signed (our way of registering for courses here), only I realized exactly then that I had left mine at home. Idiot. I stumbled out of there and towards the computers, where I got the great idea to put money on my student ID and then head to a cafeteria to try it out. I went online, got out the debit card, put money in my account, and logged out of the computer. I was about halfway to the place where I wanted to eat when I reached into my pocket and realized that I had also left my student ID at home, so I wouldn't be eating much of anything. I refreshed myself on the readings for my urban policy-making course before heading into the classroom, which was filled with about sixty people, all of whom seeming to have lots of experience in community organizations or working for this or that agency, and they were all more than up to the task of providing lively class discussion. I finally got the nerve to pull it together and answer a question, even referenced the reading, and the professor said simply, "could you be more specific?" ... I froze. Reflecting on going from teacher's pet at one school to blithering moron at the next, I tried to get a second shot in the discussion but the chance never materialized. I shuffled away from the Kennedy School of Government in the rain, returned to HDS to sit in on another course that just didn't cut the mustard like I had wanted, hoped that the Community Tea would at least provide something nice to eat, but when I finally got there they were all out of brownies. I drank some lemonade (having certainly been handed more than enough lemons today to make a batch or five myself) and excused myself straightaway; the little black raincloud over my head followed me all the way home. Life, I guess, is like that sometimes.
Now that I've written most of the emo out of my system, I just wanted to note here that commuting to school rather than residing on campus broadens my geographical idiom pretty considerably. At Canisius, I would go for literally weeks at a time without leaving the blocks on Main Street between Humboldt and Delevan. Here, I live an existence that actually spans three counties daily, and I guess I never realized how much in the way of my personal awareness of space and community could expand as a result of that. Being a solitary passenger for two hours every day is a big difference in and of itself, too... it took me three minutes to walk to class or wherever in Buffalo, and it seemed like you couldn't go three feet without bumping into someone you knew. Here, I seem to feel a lot more isolated, despite my simultaneous connection to many different groups of people. I don't know what to make of all of this, but suffice it to say, I guess, that geography and I always got along kind of queerly (and, as Bill D'Alessandro would have put it, we got along famously as well). Food for thought, I suppose, as if I needed any more of that.

9/18/05 9:04pm And suddenly, I became a Harvard student, and thoroughly entitled to all of the rights, privileges, and responsibilities contained therein. Rather than provide a play-by-play of the past week, I think I'm going to handle this account by using a more holistic approach. The big thing, I guess, is that I've made the acquaintance of a fair handful of people who seem to feel the way I do about being at the beginning of such a challenging adventure at one of the most prestigious institutions of higher learning in the world. "Daunting" is a word that's been thrown around quite a bit, and though I spent much of the week mingling and stewing in the cauldron of excitement, apprehension, pretention, wine, cheese, and good old-fashioned white-people-frontin', I've been able to clamber out and claim a high and dry plot of sanity by locating and chilling with the more natural and reasonable of my peers. Meanwhile, the week that HDS put together for us, while exhausting on the one hand, was absolutely incredible. Not only was I exposed to tons of ideas and possibilities for work, play, and growth over the next two years, but I was also just plain awestruck by, at the risk of sounding like a starry-eyed fanboy, both treading alongside and directly hearing from some of the most prominent and influential scholars of religion alive. I sat in Paul Hanson's office, I went to a panel featuring Diana Eck and Harvey Cox, I began a class taught by Fr. Bryan Hehir, I saw Helmut Koester, former WCC General Secretary Konrad Raiser, and at one of the receptions, it was just like, "hey, Don Swearer is standing on that table." And the receptions... a random live jazz trio the first night, stuffed grape leaves the third, and honestly, what school serves asparagus wrapped in chicken? Or sweetened fig halves? What school makes a big deal about dedicating a parking lot labyrinth? There were a lot of "who does that?" sort of moments this week, and, to quote Mark Staufenberg, "the sheer pretentiosity" of my surroundings has my head spinning sometimes, but I've been able to laugh at most of it. The final piece of the experience, of course, is that it's time for me to gear the hell up. I failed the first test I took at Harvard -- translating a portion of Josephus' Antiquities from the original Greek -- and the consequences of that failure are all too real. It was just the slap in the face I needed, though, for me to realize that I'm not in Kansas anymore. This is the ocean, and it's time I started swimming to the fullest of my capability.

9/11/05 2:26pm Every day this week has been remarkably gorgeous: quite literally cloudless, warm, sunny, perfect breeze. I've woken up counting every single one of my blessings, I've stepped outside to breathe in the city air and schlepp around town in my argyle socks and sandals, I've stayed up late online with Jon Bard and the Boys of Spire, I've eaten more cashews than you can shake a stick at, and I've generally been having a blast in my new surroundings. The early part of the week was reserved for exploring, and explore I did. On Monday, which was a sparkling blue gem of a Labor Day in Boston, I walked from my apartment at Cleveland Circle all the way down Beacon to Kenmore Square, then across Mass Ave and all the way down a Newbury Street that was thoroughly clogged with tourists -- all of them eager to lighten their wallets -- to the Public Gardens (one of my favorite spots in Boston) and finally to the Common and the Park Street 'T' stop, where I jumped on the Green Line to get back home. Beacon Street in Brookline is something else, all row houses and apartments of varying values, plenty of places to get food, commercial hubs at Washington Square and Coolidge Corners, the 'C' line running right down the middle, and trees everywhere... it's just the right amount of city, in my opinion, even though technically this is the first time in my life in which I'm actually living in a township. Means to an end!
Tuesday was wasted waiting for the Comcast man to show up, and when he did, a full thirty-eight minutes after the end of his promised range of calling hours, he was completely useless, the wireless card he furnished hasn't worked with my computer yet, and as a result I'm currently set up on a coffee table in one of our common rooms. Beyond this irritation, everything is more or less set up in the apartment, which is really, really nice. But I digress. On Wednesday I took the bus up to school, poked around, asked a few questions, used a computer in the lounge in Divinity Hall, and saw a mailbox clearly labeled "David Bard" amongst all the others. Pretty exciting stuff. On Thursday I went with Jake and Aube to Fenway Park, mainly because everyone was appalled at the fact that I had never been to a Major League Baseball game. We forced our way into a sardine-packed 'D' trolley at Reservoir Station, way too close to everyone for my own personal comfort, shuffled off like cattle behind Landmark Center, all at once I watched hundreds of people moving down the street in one direction and I felt like I was part of some great American pilgrimage, ready to pray five times daily in the general direction of the gigantic neon Citgo sign. Jake and Aube told me "good luck" and disappeared -- they, after all, had tickets to the game -- and I circled around to one of the ticket lines, some exuberant fellow stopped me and asked me if I needed just one ticket, it was a twenty-three dollar bleacher spot right behind center field, a police officer cut in and reminded us that we had better not make any sort of transaction where he could see us, I sized up this spontaneous salesman and gruffly agreed, and as it turned out I ended up sitting with him and his friends, right behind Johnny Damon. I simply wasn't prepared for the absolute awe that coming up the stairs and out into the stadium lights would inspire in me... Fenway was absolutely breathtaking, and that feeling alone, I think, was well worth the price of admission. I sat next to the Green Monster, I hailed the hot dog man when he came by our section in the sixth inning or so, and towards the end of the game I moseyed over to where Jake and Aube were sitting and continued to watch as the Red Sox lost (of course) to the Angels, three-nothing. It figures. Anyway, I had a great time, called my girlfriend and my mom from the stands, Mike Bard called and asked if I was watching the game, and I said, "boy am I ever." It was an American rite of passage that I finally took on myself to fulfill, and I'm glad I did.
On Friday night the Strathmore gentlemen threw a "close friends" undergrad party, complete with red cups and beer pong, I sort of sheepishly and awkwardly looked on, unable to lock myself in my room with the Internet on account of, here again, the whole coffee table setup, and the coffee table was most definitely under siege for most of the night. I got to talking to some random people, probably solidified my reputation as "the grad student from Harvard," and that was pretty much that. Last night, Mike Bard called me up and I met him and the Wentworth roommates at Bertucci's at Kenmore Square, which was really good, excepting the eggplant parm (a little bit too salty). We caught a late movie, I made it home alright, there were some classic shenanigans with Mike, Byron, and Big Pat until odd hours, and here I am on the archetypical Sunday afternoon... it's all been fun and games, but tomorrow I wake up early, dress up nice, go in for a job interview, shop courses at the Kennedy School of Government (!), and generally become the Bard of Cambridge for the first day of many. It's been a great week, I love it here, although I'm sorely missing Little Theatre (I missed Studio X!), Derek Weibel (putting up maps in my room just wasn't the same), Jenn (although she more or less lives in my left ear anyway), and pretty much everyone in Buffalo and Albany. My mother sent me brand new argyle socks, though, so I think that's more than enough to signify a new chapter. Time to turn the page, then, and see what's in store!

9/5/05 12:35pm Officially landed in Brookline, Massachusetts yesterday in what can only be described as a seamless move-in for both my brother and myself. The van was packed in clear to the top; Mike had nowhere to put his legs, and he and I were constantly checking blind spots for my dad, whose vision was blocked by the contents of two apartments. Picked up a mattress in Natick, blasted all of our stuff into Strathmore and "Triple 5," ate at the Qdoba near Northeastern, shook hands with James Keenan, and went our separate ways. Now I'm sitting at Strathmore with no Internet connection, unpacking slowly but steadily, with full intentions to go out exploring today and for much of the rest of this week. There is, after all, a big amazing world out there.