RA Poems

Dear Blog,

I wrote short poems for Woods Staff today, as part of my developmental presentation. I hope that sharing an aspect of my education (creative writing), I can help others grow into more well-rounded people. Plus, it was a neat activity. I can't wait to hear what everyone brings to the staff meeting next Wednesday.

[Attention: These may be inside jokes, stories, and information unknown to many readers; please don't delve into the poems too much, as I just want to exhibit them and show that I'm not dead: these poems may be removed in the future]

Nikki
Never to leave a friend
In need alone, and
Keeps on helping until she
Knows that her friend
Is alright in the end 

Spencer
Starts to work on a
Program far in advance,
Encompassing all the
Needed aspects therein,
Certain that his hard work
Eventually aids at least one
Resident 

Ashleigh
Although the outsider
Sometimes sees just
Her blunt front,
Life allows Ashleigh to
Embellish the lives of those
Inherently lucky enough to
Get to know
Her
 
Ashleigh Pt.2
Although the outsider
Sometimes sees just
Her blunt front, those
Lucky enough to be near her have their lives
Embellished
In ways
God could have only
Have dreamed of
 
Daniel
Dude,
Another team builder?
No one has
Interest in these since
Early October, after Aleigha’s
Lovely shark impression 

Kelsie
Kind words aren’t
Enough to accurately
Label attributes to her, although
Sweet has to be mentioned somewhere
In this poem, because
Everyone knows it’s true 

Jim Winslow
Just when the day
Is done, one can
Make sure to find,
Without a doubt, this
Individual listening to music,
New and old; be thankful,
Since he can be quite
Loquacious and
Observant
Without his iPod 

Halyssa
Heads above the others around her,
Although physically small,
Let it be known that
Yes, a girl can
Shop to her heart’s content and
Still score higher than you in the
All of your classes 

Elliott
Electrical engineering is a
Labor of
Love for this guy;
Indeed, it has to be if
One intends to
Take that degree into
The real world
 
Elliot Pt.2
Enveloped nearly every day in
Logarithms and
Lengthy equations,
Inevitably, he finds an
Opportunity to
Thank
Those that give him strength to persist 

Brandon
Before you meet him, you
Recognize the
Aura of positivity that
Never leaves his presence;
Diligent and always great,
One can see why Michelle
Nabbed him from the market
 
Judy
Jubilant as always, she
Understands you when you
Don’t even understand
Yourself
 
Aleigha
Able to finish large tasks in a
Little time span,
Efficient only goes part way to detail the
Intricacies that
Go through the mind of our
Hall Director; her
Amiable outlook holds the true secret to success
 
JoAnna
Jaunt is hardly the
Obvious choice for the
Adventures our
Night hostess
Nevertheless embarks on when
Another student wanders in with goggles on

Until next time,
-Daniel Golden

Involvement

Dear Blog,

I learned in my RA class at the beginning of the year that one of the most common hindrances in a person's schedule is not procrastination, but over-planning. Being involved in so much stuff and trying to accommodate all needs. I laughed quietly to myself at thing, thinking of the fools who would do that.

Blog, I didn't know it then, but I laughed quietly to myself about myself.

I have a lot to do and not enough time to do it. Story to write, books to read, RA tasks, homework, Phi Sigma Pi, and relationships (and personal ambitions, like TV shows, movies, video games, and recreational books).
But I love it all.

I love being an RA. I thought this was a nifty job for me. But now, I know it is a lifestyle. A glorious one at times, too. I love Woods House and I love the people I meet. It's stressful, I am underpaid, and sometimes my residents don't acknowledge my work, but in the end, totally worth it.

I love my classes. True, a couple are very tough and boring, but I love to learn. The random factoids and personal stories from teachers. The opportunity to ask nearly anything I want (and not be glared at by peers). I love how I retain the most interesting or complex of things. I am honored by this college experience.

I love Phi Sigma Pi. The people in this organization are fantastic. Very many girls, as I believe I've said before. Not a bad thing, to be sure, just odd at times. But still, I love this group of people. I wish I had listened to the invites given my Freshman year. I hope I can keep up the induction requirements and finally be a real member. (On a side note, my scholarship event for PSP was a big success; lots of fun and games and everyone was able to relax and laugh)

I love my relationships. My girlfriend is amazing. She's funny and sweet, and knows my body language. I will think to myself "I wish she'd..." and then she will. I don't know how she does it, but I love it. I try to do what I can for her. I offer advice when I can, I shut-up other times. I try to make life interesting for her. I don't know what the future holds (Brandon Flowers knocking at her door and whisking her away to the Kanto region?), but for the time being, I love what we have.

I love my friends. The support I get from them is fantastic (and the huge amount of birthday wishes to my Facebook wall made me feel awesome). I feel like I've pushed many of them to the wayside, though. I wish I hadn't. My life is very hectic, and it's hard for me to divert from my plans to visit people. If they come to me, fantastic! But traveling off campus to visit someone (heck, to other buildings) is hard to pull off. I like to stay on my floor to be there for my residents. If you feel like a neglected friend, visit me on the fifth floor of Woods. I may be busy when you visit, but a quick "Hey, how are you?" will brighten my day.

Blog, I am not perfect. I am not Superman. But I am Daniel, and Daniel (from what I hear) is a pretty awesome guy. I'll get through all my commitments, but it won't be easy. I just want you to know that you aren't forgotten, Blog. Simply one of the many things I wish I could maintain, but sadly, lack the time due to over-planning.

Until next time!
-Daniel Golden

Birthday

Dear Blog,

I am 21 years old today.

I am considered an adult in all 50 states. I am able to do so many things in so many places that I previously was restricted from (except renting a car). I have more freedom than ever before, with more choices, but I have more responsibilities to my name, as well. In some regards, I am a man. Many others, still just a boy or guy. I have a life in front of me that is not altogether clear. But I still have it, and it is mine to own. A life of potential, full of energy, ready to move forward.

I like many of the same things I did five years ago, in addition to new things. Star Wars and Star Trek have stayed with me. Doctor Who and theatre have been added. My last two years of high school allowed me to grow into a fuller version of myself. And college has provided me with a new venue for life. I am more social, more knowledgeable, and hopefully wiser than in the past. At times, I am known to shy away from girls, but I am not shy. Over five years, I have grown to appreciate my education more. I am not as sure of my intellect as I once was. I would love to address my 16 year old self, and advise him. I have no doubt my 26 year old self would like to do the same for my current self, too.

My parents have spoiled me. I've always had ample food, games, and random stuff I probably begged for and said "I'll love you forever if you get this [trivial item] right now!" TV, movies, and books were plentiful. They also gave me plenty of love and attention. Reading to me at night, making sure I had the tools I needed to learn, encouraging me to be myself and supporting me when I wanted to be an archeologist one year, then an aerospace engineer the next year. They provided a humorous environment to grow and thrive in, and a life full of travel and culture. They protected me from some of life's unsavory aspects, but granted me access to everything when I was ready. My values and morals, my attitude toward life, and my personality stem from them. I am my own person with my own ideas and opinions, but I follow their example more often than not. I can thank them everyday for the rest of my life and it wouldn't be adequate enough for what they've done for me. Braces, good schools, my own computer, telescope, vehicle, game consoles, TVs, stereos, CDs galore, DVDs, phones, Beanie Babies, McDonald's toys, furniture, decorations, vacations and trips to fantastic locales, and so many other random stuff that I'm not aware of, forgotten, or simply too numerous to list without delaying the point.

Blog, today I am 21. While on Earth, I have orbited our sun, Sol, twenty one complete times. In my life, I hope that mankind can begin traveling to distant worlds and flourish. I hope many ailments are cured. I hope a level of peace can be reached that would allow all people to live without fear of attack. I hope that technology continues to progress and become more inventive. I hope my children will have access to faster travel, faster information retrieval, but slower lives to enjoy the beauty of this world. The art in museums, on the airwaves, in nature. The wonderment of human creativity should astound them, and they should be allowed to live their lives as my parents have let me live mine.

Blog, there are various facets of my life. Each one contributed to the creation of the person I am today. The stories I've heard, read, or seen, the music I've listened to, the people I've come to call my friends, the teachers in my life, the role models of history, the resources at my fingertips. So many things equal to the idea of Daniel Stephen Golden. And that's fascinating. If I never watched Star Wars, would I be a radically different person? If I never took Honors courses and learned my voice in writing and presentations? If I never applied to be a Resident Assistant and interacted with the amazing individuals in ResLife? If I never befriended great friends or enjoyed their company? The mathematical impossibility of my very existence is complex and wonderful. Life is a gift and I embrace it and love it.

Blog, this entry is a note to myself. A note to remind me that I am special, I am unique. This entry is a thank you to my parents, to life in general. This entry is, simply put, not a diary page, but an acknowledgment of my life's delicate components.

I think, therefore, I am.
I am Daniel.

Until next time!
-Daniel Golden

He Shall Fight on the Beaches Against Himself

Daniel Golden
ENG 315

He Shall Fight on the Beaches Against Himself

The words hit Phillip’s chest like a bomb to a bunker. He heard the top brass and their formal statements and suggestions. The testimonies were then read. Judgment had been passed as the meeting closed. He’d been told to halt all his flights from the base. Grounded. He’d been told he was “suddenly unpredictable” and he would need to see someone soon and talk about his “mental state.” That morning, he’d been a hero, nationally, and rumors hinted at internationally, known. He was the poster boy for the RAF, for Britain, and, at times, for democracy itself. He was the epitome of a fine soldier. He had several commendations and a few defense missions under his belt. He did everything according to the letter throughout his life. Captain Phillip Oliver Browning, the ideal son for England. And now he was treated like a rookie in the woods without a compass. What am I without my plane, country, or name?

He walked from the sterile conference room into the nearest restroom where adjusted his uniform in front of a mirror with the words phrase “Loose Lips Sink Ships” above and below the frame. His blue, battle dress uniform was clean and pressed, as it always was, shoes polished, despite the gravity of the hearing. His holster, now void of a pistol, was squarely on his right hip. His bright blonde hair was cut according to Ministry of Defense and RAF Handbook standards, his face cleanly shaven, with his blue eyes shining in glow of the single bulb hanging in the center of the small room. It was rumored that is was this very image, albeit with a broad smile, was circulating within Germany, subject to many admirers and clubs. His Aryan-like portrait must have made many citizens giddy with a since of irony it conveyed. The caption would probably read “Obvious infiltration of the RAF”.

He left the restroom and walked into the late afternoon sun, not knowing where to go from there. If he went straight home, his wife would be there waiting for him, and he’d have to explain why he wasn’t flying. And Phillip knew, as a runner-up husband, she’d have little reason to stay. Why would lovely Rose continue to be with an “unstable” man? The other option of heading back to the barracks or airfield was also called in question in Phillip’s mind, as the guys would surely ask why he’d been called to that meeting. He’d be honest, of course, and they’d all take a step back from him. Camaraderie had it limits, too.

Maybe that doctor would offer some advice or some help, but it’d be at least a week before an appointment would be set up as he would be flown in from America. So Phillip to avoid any such of confession for the time being, he walked toward a favorite pub of his, sun setting fast behind the nearby town’s buildings. He journeyed to Hamlet’s Hamlet, where everyone knew him but not that day’s horrid events. He looked forward to answering civilian questions, hopefully avoiding the truth of that day, but not wholly lying. Before, they had asked why he joined, what he felt in the air, how many Nazis he’d killed. And Phillip would be glad to repeat the stories. To do more for this country than my father did. Being in the air was like feeling free from all other concerns of the Earth below. He’d lost count at 20.

The plan was to stay low and enjoy a final night of drinks and glory, before heading home to Rose. But it seemed fate wanted Phillip to feel approaching loneliness he was surely destined for sooner than later. Fate saw Phillip as a geyser, spraying the toxic tonic of his reckless behavior on the ground, away from his plane.

Phillip was heading down a back alley path when five young men stepped out from behind corners and trash bins on both ends of this back way. Phillip trudged forward, footfalls solid and resounding in the enclosed space. He gaze was set straight ahead. The casual observer would have commented that Phillip was oblivious to the air of danger that enveloped the alley. The casual observer would also be wrong.

“Oy, flyboy Browning! I know you!” began the biggest of the men, grin on his face. All of the men were wearing the same, slightly beaten black suit getup, seeming like copies of each other, right down to the black hair and plaid, grey shirts under their suit jackets. Phillip noticed the holey bowler that the big one held in his hand. He was more concerned with the cricket bat in hands of the man to the right of this Campbell.

“Ah said ‘oy’!” shouted the leader. Phillip paused. I won’t get to stroll on out of this encounter. “You are that pretty boy Browning, right?”

“I am,” is all that Phillip said, with a voice that silenced radios on many missions. Campbell was, unfortunately, not attuned to the tone.

“Looky here, boys! We hafe ourselves a gen-u-ine ‘ero in our presence,” announced the charismatic fool, exaggerating the circumstance, arms spread wide, bowler still in hand and open toward Phillip. “We should treat ‘im wif da respect ‘e rightly deserves, eh?”

“Sure thing, Campbell” smiled the man with the cricket bat, twirling it in his hands, casual taking mock practice swings toward Phillip.

“May I pass?” inquired Phillip with the unnerving calm of a man purchasing a newspaper, without the polite smile or well wishes.

“Well, the matter of the situation is that, you, Browning, sah,” mocked Campbell with a botched salute, “make for a nice target fer me the gang ‘ere. If the papers got word out that we beat you up a bit, we earn some respect. We cain’t fight for Britain against them Nazis, but we can sure rule these streets while you lot are gone. Our number would surely multiply with an ‘accomplishment’ like a battered Browning on our résumé,” explained the man, slowly circling Phillip, confident in his logic. “Wif our numbers larger, we can resist those Bobbies and move onto getting what we want. More people, more stuff to be stolen, er, rather, ‘gathered’ during those annoying bombing runs.” Phillip remained still, standing at parade rest by the end of Campbell’s monologue. “I’m sure you know about those bombing runs better than us, eh? Especially with those escorts. Well, maybe you don’t know much. But Johnny prob’ly did, righ’?”

Phillip’s head slowly turned toward the leader. Phillip’s face was of stone, the color of his eyes drained away, leaving just a gray outline. His jaw line tensed, stepped back with his right foot and bringing up his arms. “Let me through,” whispered Phillip. The words were a warning. Two of the gang member behind Phillip backed away slowly. Campbell, McFarlane, and the Richards to Campbell’s left took the words and twisted them into provocation.

“We just can’t do that.”

“Then let’s see who will be left ‘battered’.”

“If you are a fighter like your bother, then you’re going down in flames, too” chuckled Campbell, then ordered his right hand man, who he called McFarlane, to run forward first. Phillip noticed the form he used when holding his bat. Primary school style. Amateur. Phillip easily dodged the man, causing him to stumble and trip due to his misplaced momentum. As he spilled over on the ground, the bat slid toward the two cautious members down the alley. Phillip stared straight at them, resulting in them turning right around and fleeing the scene of the ambush. Phillip walked past the first assailant as he was slowly stirring from his unexpected fall and picked up the bat.

“Are you sure you want to continue?” inquired Phillip, turning to face the remaining targets, pointing his new weapon toward the two men, hoping this bold move would resolve this conflict without wounds for either party.

“We don’t give up like those bloody boys,” spat Campbell. “Come on, Richards, let’s smash this cocky pilot, then grab a pint at Zeppelin Shelter. Both he and Richards ran toward Phillip. Phillip brandished the bat like a professional and waiting. As Campbell came closer, Richards slowed down, leaving a clean shot for Phillip. Campbell tried to hold back the bat, but one swift swing simply hit his fingertips as it passed and hit his chin squarely on the cleft. Phillip pulled the bat back and jabbed it at Richards’s chest as if it were a rapier before Campbell landed on the ground from his hit. McFarlane stood up as Richards tripped back to a wall. McFarlane rushed Phillip from behind, latching his arms around Phillip’s neck. Phillip knelt down as McFarlane locked around him, trying to flip him. McFarlane was heavier than Phillip thought and wound up falling hard to the cobblestone. Phillip landed on top of McFarlane, with Campbell and Richards sprinting from their respective locations, ready to kick Phillip while his was on the ground.

Thinking quickly, Phillip rolled to the right when Campbell and Richards were inches away, effectively having their punched and kicks hit McFarlane, who was still determinatively locked onto Phillip. McFarlane immediately let go, giving Phillip the chance to continue rolling, then bringing himself back up. McFarlane lay curled on the ground as Campbell and Richards locked eyes with Phillip. Battered, but still standing, both hoodlums ran toward Phillip. Phillip stepped to the left of the two men barging toward him, hitting Richards’s knee cap as he ran by. Leg out of commission, Richards crumbled to the ground, sliding into the alley wall face first.

Campbell slowly turned, just feet away from Phillip. Campbell glared at Phillip. Phillip remained stoic.

“Ya know,” began Campbell, “you’re a tough fellow. I’m sure me boss would like it if you weren’t hurt by us, but ‘stead, joined us?”

“I decline the job offer,” retorted Phillip.

“Then I guess it’s a fight to the end for you, is it?”

“I guess it is.”

Campbell pulled back his shoulders, positioned he legs, and ran as fast as he could toward Phillip. Phillip angled his bat to its side and hit Campbell in the temple. Campbell fell to the ground instantly. Phillip dropped the bat own its owner with a loud crack as it landed on McFarlane’s head.

Phillip left the scene and went straight to the pub. But in lieu of drinks, Phillip had his wife Rose waiting for him to walk through the faded yellow door. The explanation he hadn’t prepared yet was now at the forefront of his mind.

“What happened, Phillip?” demanded Rose, compassion nowhere to be found in her stance or voice. While she looking lovely wearing a blue dress with white trimming, her best teaching outfit, her round face had a searing glare on it that was reserved for whipping only the most delinquent of children. “The Major called you to clarify that your grounded state was to last until you got approval from a psychologist. Why didn’t you tell me you were grounded? Why do you even need to speak to some Freudian fraud? What happened today?”

Phillip sighed. Liquid courage would ease the situation, but the line of access to the Guinness was cut by Rose’s presence. He looked straight into her knowing, knowing that she would leave near immediately when he told her the truth. And not only would she leave, but the pub’s loyal customers would turn away. No one would understand why he would admit to his actions. Honor above all else.

“I lost my cool in the air. Johnny was shot down, right in front of me. I saw the flames and smoke surround his Hurricane, and heard his radio broadcast his screams. No one was there for him.” Phillip looked down to the floor. “I wasn’t there for him, at the end, when he needed someone.”

Phillip glanced upwards to further explain, he eyes lost in the past event of that day, reflecting on the hatred he had felt toward the enemy, toward life’s unfair rules. “I lost it. Johnny shouldn’t have been the first to get shot out of the air. I went on a crusade. I broke formation from the other Spitfires and went straight for the bugger Messerschmitt I thought shot Johnny. Once the bastard went down, I moved through the German ranks, taking out a full escort and bomber before being shot myself. I retreated to find that not only did I take out those planes, I endangered other pilots, directly resulting in three other downed aircraft, according to ground spotters.”

Before Rose could say anything in response, an older police officer ran into the pub, short of breath, and called for help, reporting three men critically injured in the alley near the pub.

“Officer, I injured those men,” clarified Phillip.

“Did you know that one of those men is dead?” inquired the old man, still panting.

“No. Not at all. I just fought them off when they ganged up on me.”

“Well I know you, Captain Browning,” said the man, running fingers through his gray hair, “you wouldn’t hurt a soul unless ya needed to. Don’t worry ‘bout paper work or nothin’. I’m sure no one will miss that lot, anyways. I hear you were up fightin’ the Luftwaffe, so you can go home and rest, sir.”

Before Phillip could object, the officer went back to tend to the gang members, followed by several of the pub’s occupants, including the bartender. Soon it was just Rose and Phillip, standing near the entrance, the pub’s radio quietly playing a message from Prime Minister Winston Churchill.

Rose shook her head as the speech continued in the empty pub. Her lips curled slightly as she spoke to Phillip. “I knew this is what would happen. You’ve tried to be a stand-up soldier, but I remember; I remember your father and how he treated those he didn’t like. Beat them down. He killed young Thomas Parker when Tommy and his pals robbed that shop back in Leadsworth. With a cricket bat, no less. And he got away with it, just you just did. The boy was only sixteen.”

Rose held back some tears before she continued. Her passion for children took hold for a minute. Before Phillip could reach out to hold her, she spat at him. “How old were those boy in the alley?” she continued. Same age? Younger, maybe? Just trying to make a living on the streets, too old for school and too young to die in a war that’s left them in dire straits. You’re the same man, Phillip Browning. You can’t hide from it. Today in the sky, just now in that alley. You’re a cold killer. You can’t escape it. You’re a good actor, fooling the RAF, being plastered on propaganda throughout the country. But you’ve ruined it. Because Johnny died, like the hundreds before him, and that’s when you reacted. I told you not to recruit him into your squadron. But you insisted you needed to watch over him. See what’s happened? Because of you, Johnny is gone, not to mention however many people you let die. You are no man. You are some sort of monster.”

Rose’s remarks were like an underground bomb exploding in his core, rippling outward and cracking his being. He’d viewed his life as an example for even others to follow. But it seemed that now, after losing it all, he can see the truth. The horrible truth of my life.

“Phillip, I never loved you. I married you to secure a teaching job after Roger died. You know this. And sure, many of a children were evacuated, but so many have returned because of the bloody poor planning on the part of you precious Churchill. I’m needed more now than before. I don’t need you now. I don’t want to be with you. And I want to leave before I am unfortunate to have a child afflicted with whatever curse that follows your family.” She stopped to give Phillip a chance to respond. He simply looked at the ground. “Well? Anything to say before I head back to pack up?”

But Phillip could only stare at the ground. He shook his head and let her leave out the pub. He’d lost his brother, his life, and his wife. He’d managed to follow his father’s footsteps without stepping in remotely the same direction as him. Nothing could be said to ease reality.

Phillip sat at the bar and waiting simply waited for the bartender. Even oak countertop, stained with age, remained dignified despite Phillip’s presence. When the bartender came back, he offered a drink to Phillip, on the house for all the mayhem that went on that day. Phillip asked for some whisky as he sat and listened to the remainder of the BBC broadcast of Churchill’s speech.

“We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.”

Last Week on "Daniel's Life"

Dear Blog,

I'm not very motivated to write an entry today, but I have definitely been slacking when it comes to blog posts. I will try to highlight some events in brief detail. My apologies if this isn't a comprehensive list of my most recent activities.

I am now an Initiate for Phi Sigma Pi and the Scholarship Chair for my class. Both are exciting steps into this new organization. The people there seem pretty awesome, and I imagine that I will have lots of fun while attending programs and interacting with all the members. Balancing this new addition to my life will be hard, but I think I will be able to work things out eventually.

32 Minutes was amazing! From my point of view, it was a huge success. I had a lot of fun and it looked awesome. Thomas and I were bouncers for the rave party. We were awesome bouncers, if I do say so myself. We danced to a few songs and interacted with all the people entering the party. We tried to entice passerbyers, and a few actually attended. I'm sure we entertained many of the party goers as well, with our bouncer dance moves and random "old guy" comments.

Thomas is a cool guy, too. We have a few things in common, like interests and similar senses of humor. I'm glad he and Nikki are dating. Best friend and new guy friend sounds like an ideal match to me. Makes communication a little easier, too.

Victoria and I had our six month anniversary on Tuesday. Since 32 Minutes was taking place, we didn't do much the day of. But the next day, I took her to Red Lobster. We dressed up and went together. She looked beautiful in her dress and I looked like House, M.D. in my getup. She has never been to a Red Lobster before, so she was excited. It was nice for us to eat some "real" food, too. We talked throughout the meal, and ultimately wound up going to Gamestop (both the one in the mall and the store across from Barnes & Noble) after the meal. She bought a game for her DS on the suggestion from her BFF Tom. We stopped by her room so she could get some comfortable clothes, then went to my room where she watched a couple of episodes of Doctor Who and I wrote my midterm. Cuddling commenced after I finished my paper and she finished Doctor Who. I will admit I was acting very, very silly. But it was just me and her, so I can be as zany as I can and she won't punch me for it.

Classes are going relatively well. I have yet to write my short stories for ENG 315. But I hope, when I use my dedicated time on Friday, I'll be able to compose a good story in a writing session. I have a developed character, but I don't feel like he would act interesting in any sort of story I place him in. I can make him go crazy or something (deviating from my standard stories that involve a huge dose of humor), but it doesn't seem like it'd be a fun story to write. I like to write fun things. Gruesome deaths, loss of relationships, general disarray and chaos aren't in my ballpark, but I'd like to test my writing ability and see if I can do that. The say humor is a hard form to master, especially in writing, but I've never had many troubles writing funny stories, so maybe it is the opposite for me. Psychology of Adolescence is interesting, and not very difficult. History and Systems of Psychology is interesting, and the exams are tough, but a good class, nonetheless. ENG 362 has tough material, but an intriguing professor. And SPN 102 is, well, Spanish. Poor test grades don't make me feel too bad. I'm simply going to focus a bit more in class and try some more worksheets.

The fifth floor has a great group of guys. Friendships have clearly formed, and the majority of the guys I talk to on a regular basis seem to be enjoying life here at MSU. When I see the more reclusive residents, they too seem to be having a good time. I simply wish a few of them would actually attend floor events. I hope the upcoming NERF Battle will convince a few of them to shut off those Xbox 360s and head outside.

Well, that's all I can think to write at the moment. Tomorrow (maybe even tonight), I'll give Victoria her birthday presents since I will be at a staff retreat this weekend (plus Phi Sigma Pi retreat and meeting). Hopefully I can get a few more things done, as well (cleaning my room, writing, Halo).

Until next time!
-Daniel Golden

P.S. I have a feeling this is how I sound to some of the residents in the building (or the general populace as a whole).

Magic

Dear Blog,

Tonight I am tired. I will go to bed very shortly.
I just wanted to propose a question:

Do you believe in magic?
I do.
I felt it tonight.
Love is magic.
Love is powerful.
Love is a driving force in my life and it is splendid.
Blog, this love that I feel is truly magical.
Though some days I lose touch of that, I still know it to be true.
Love is magic.
Magic is mystical.
Love and magic are unknown and wonderful.
Blog, this may seem immature and childish.
That's because it is the power of love at work.
Love is unique is all of its forms.
Friendship, passion, art, admiration, adoration.
All is love.
And I am in love.
I am love.
I am magic.
So Blog, do you believe in me?
Because I do.

Until next time!
-Daniel Golden