It Seems Those With Sports Cars Have To Show Off Even In Death

Today I realized that I do not want my body to be buried in a casket or have a traditional funeral. The expense is too great and too much time and effort is taken into coordinating such affairs. Perhaps I'll go the route my father has proposed for his own body when he dies. Donate the husk to science so the lives of others may benefit from a vessel that is now unused.
My great aunt's funeral was today which answers the question of what prompted this train of thought. Aunt Lois lived to the age of 94. Towards the end of her life she was very tired and had lost most of her sight. Finally being able to rest seems to be a fitting reward.
Aunt Lois was buried in the Farmington cemetery next to the rest of the Brashier and Stuckel family members that had moved on. The odd thing about the funeral home and the cemetery was the fact that a school resides next each one. The old Farmington jr. high is across the street from the funeral home while the old middle school is only separated by a fence from the hundreds of men and women that call their plots home.

Funny how we played at recess so close to death every day of our lives.

Road bikes, wrestling, and couches.

Here I am sitting on the edge of the bathtub trying furiously to find the area that has the strongest signal to my neighbors flickering wi-fi connection. Most wireless signals reach about a hundred feet and this is stretching that threshold to its limits. I can finally say I am a proud owner of a road bike thanks to the generous help of Scott who sold it to me for twenty dollars. It needs a little work but it runs near perfect and for its age it looks immaculate. All I needed to do was put in a little time cleaning the rust off the chrome and it shined like new. While at Caleb's house the other night I had the privilege to witness a couch burning (see photo below).
No other words are needed to explain this one.
Oh also go buy "The Wrestler." One of the most real performances I've ever witnessed by any actor. Mickey Rourke makes you feel like his character, Randy "The Ram" Robinson really is a man that has spent his whole life trying to entertain and please the crowd and has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart around his ears. This movie made me think about relationships in my own life but that's for another time. I mean isn't that what any good film is supposed to make you do?

Where Our Roots Lead

Movement seems to be the theme of my life right now. In the past few weeks I've said goodbye to a good friend, went to Chicago twice, and moved back home to my parents house. My brother now resides in my old room and I know live in the library room and sleep on the floor (see top picture). I had forgotten how mixed my feelings were about this town. I despise this place in a way that only a person that has lived here can. But in the same token I have always felt a gravitational pull towards this place and felt an appreciation for the beauty that comes with the freedom of living in a small town. Though I miss living with the guys in Peoria I love the quiet that my parents house allows. I can think and be still. My thoughts feel more collected and coherent when I'm here. When I'm alone in this house is when I feel the Lord. I feel like in Peoria I had neglected Him. I feel at peace.