“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”

I have never experienced 16 hours of rain before. 16 hours of nonstop rain from Boston all the way to Asheville, North Carolina. Overall, however, it was a fun road trip. At least the parts I was awake and coherent for.

I awoke early on Tuesday morning to catch a train to Providence, Rhode Island, where I was to meet Julia. I packed my bag, kissed my girlfriend goodbye and walked out the door. South Station was incredibly busy two days before Thanksgiving, but the train to Providence was surprisingly empty. I arrived in Providence an hour later and started to make my way down the east coast.

The terrifying 16 hour drive

We left at 3pm (or was it 4?) and the clouds were just starting to form. I figured that the storm was moving up the coast and that we would be only driving through it for a few hours at most (if you can recall the first sentence of this post, you will know that I was very, very wrong). We made it out of Boston and ran into traffic about 15 miles outside of New York. This traffic would last for hours, but with fancy new GPS technology, we were able to detour on back roads.

Once we made it past New York, the final 12 hours were a breeze. Although it was late at night (early in the morning) we made it through Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Tennessee without any trouble. We finally arrived in Asheville around 8am, Wednesday morning. I wish I could have seen more of the trip, but it was dark and I was falling in and out of sleep. I miss Virginia, and most of the mid-eastern seaboard.

Thanksgiving wasn't all that and a bag of chips. It's a short amount of time to spend on vacation, especially when you only have 5 days and you spend 2 of them driving. Overall, it wasn't bad. I saw the movie Hugo, and I won't be giving away any spoilers, but it was a fantastic film. I opted out of the 3-d version and I did not notice anything that would make it a particularly spectacular 3-d film. The color and cinematography were fantastic, and the commercials do not do the movie any justice. If you haven't seen it (and if it is still playing) it's worth the 10 dollars or so you would need to see it.

One of my favorite movies of the year

The road trip back was uneventful, but tiring. It took 10 hours to get from Columbia to Washington D.C. It should never, ever take 10 hours to travel that distance. Geographically, it should not take more than 8 hours travelling at a decent pace. In fact, David and I have made that trip in a little under 6 hours (not recommended for the faint of heart).

I made it back to Boston safely where I have almost finished my final 3 weeks of this semester. It hasn't been a rough semester in the least, and I look forward to finally beginning the end to my sophomore year.

A Man Without a Mustache is like a Cup of Tea Without Sugar

Last week was Halloween. It also snowed last week. Let me repeat that, but bold the letters for more emphasis: It also snowed last week. That isn't quite enough, let's see what an underline can do: It also snowed last week. Throw some capital letters and: IT ALSO SNOWED LAST WEEK. There we go.

If you are somehow illiterate then I am not sure what you are doing here anyway.

The only reason I've noticed the colder weather more than usual is because of No Shave November. In order to prepare for the mystical month where men refuse basic hygiene, I shaved my beard. That was my first mistake. My fair skin was woefully unprepared for the bitter cold. I'm happily one week into November with just enough scruff to annoy my girlfriend and not enough to strike a match against.

There is another take on No Shave November. Movember. From what I have gathered, Movember wants men to grow mustaches (becoming Mo Bros) and be sponsored for it. The money raised goes towards research towards prostate cancer. I wish I could take part. Alas, I cannot grow a mustache worth sponsoring. So this post is dedicated to the mustache and we shall start with my all time, hands down, favorite mustache. A mustache fit for a Dictator, if you will.

A mustache is worth 1000 words. However, this one can be summed up in a simple few:  I like to kill my own people, but you have to love me, anyway.

Yes, I do wish I could grow Stalin's mustache. A close second for me would be Dali's, but I lack Dali's eccentricity much in the same way I lack Stalin's drive for power. It isn't the man that chooses the mustache, but the mustache that chooses the man. (And the one that chose Hitler not only regrets its decision for choosing, well, Hitler, but also because it is by far one of the ugliest variations of the mustache I have ever seen.) 

I'm glad he was such an asshole that this never caught on

I wish my fellow gentleman a simple and quick Movember. To wrap up this lovely presentation on the mustache, I present to you this lovely image, A Mustache Makes a Difference:

You Change All the Lead Sleeping in My Head to Gold

I always forget the joy of public transportation. Boston is no exception to this rule. Being a large city, Boston has a fairly reliable bus and subway. The subway is aptly named, "The T." I love the buses. Now, while they typically run 5 minutes late, I have learned to find it in my heart to forgive them.

 "It's ok, Bus," I begin to say, "I understand that there is traffic and that it can be hard for you to reach your destination. Plus, being a man of my times, I understand the need to being fashionably late."

And somehow the bus understands me, and is never worried about being late. Taxis (while not public transportation) are also incredibly convenient. My main qualm with the taxis is when they do not think I live in Boston. You see, they would like to think that a couple of miles is equivalent to $20 or more. This is false. When coming home from a party my friends are hosting just shy over a mile away, the fare is roughly $8 ($10 if you include a tip). This is incredible. Not only do I have roughly a couple hundred designated drivers that will happily pull over for me (I am a white non-threatening male in Boston, what's not to love?) but they drop me off right at my door. All for $8 ($10 if you include a tip). And to top it all off, they run 24/7. Should I happen to be too inebriated to return home safely via public transportation, which stops running at 12:30 am, no less, a taxi will happily save me the trouble of walking home.

But what about the T? Didn't you mention that Boston has a subway system, aptly named, "The T?" 

I pity the fool that believes I am a subway.

Bearing no relation to Mr. T, the T is alright. It works roughly like the Metro in D.C. or the subway in New York. It's color coded lines have helped me traverse the city that is Boston. The red line has brought me to Harvard and South Station, The blue line to the beach and airport, the orange line to Chinatown. And the green line, the green line has brought me to hell. If there could be a rhyme or reason to the green line, the rhyme would go like this:

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I'm not good at poetry

Show me your tits

And the reason would be this:

Because I said so.

If we were to modernize the Greek stories of old, the ferry that brings one over the river Styx would be replaced with the green line. The green line is split into 4 separate lines named B,C,D, and E. E is never important. D is hardly important. C? C isn't important either. And what the hell ever happened to A? The B line is the one with which I travel and it is an abomination. This is an actual customer review from Yelp!:

"Dare I say it? I like the Green Line (specifically, the supposed spawn of the devil, B line). Sure, there are a lot of stops, and riding it through the 219810928412409 stops near BU is the equivalent of watching 6 layers of paint dry, but it guarantees that I can always find a stop super close to my destination." - Karina L.

Now I'm not going to say that it hasn't saved my ass from having to run to class, or walk in blizzards. The chances of catching one in the morning are in the students favor, but you'll have to stop every 5 feet for the next stop. But what if you want to go to a party late at night? This is where the green line falls short of its public transportation brethren. For every 3 trains coming inbound (towards Boston, away from parties) there is one train going outbound (towards Hades or BC. Semantics). But this one train going outbound can be either a B,C,D or E line. So not only do you have to wait and count the inbound trains, but your chances of landing a B line are theoretically 1:4. In reality the odds are some where near 1:239529583. There are shirts for the way I feel.

Everyone hates the green line, sweetie

To sum everything up, it's not difficult to travel around Boston. Just don't use the outbound green line and you should be fine. Oh, did I mention that you can track the T online so that you can figure out if you are just going to miss it or not? Did I also mention that the green line is the ONLY line that doesn't have a live feed? This lovely gem, http://howfuckedisthet.com/, keeps travelers up to date with information regarding the location of the T.

Just use discretion when travelling in Boston.

Michael Phelps is Half a Bear

A grizzly bear eats roughly 23,000 calories a day (or so I am told) and Michael Phelps consumes roughly 12,000 calories a day. This has nothing to do with my my post, but it is something I learned in my History of Western Ethics class.
I have friends in high places. Although the 5th floor does not offer the vantage points of a 9th window, this view of the Charles and downtown Boston is nearly impossible to beat. The weather is starting to finally cool off. One of the many downsides to the South was the heat. I have never really been able to stand the heat. At least in cooler weather, a man can always change into something warmer. You are very limited by how much you can take off, however, should it get too hot. The low tonight is supposed to be 37, and for the first week of October, I'm a bit appalled. Where the hell did fall go? The leaves have barely started to change!
It's nice though. Other parts of New England have already started the gradual change into fall. Just the other week I was in Northampton for a Fleet Foxes concert and it was gorgeous. The leaves on the mountain sides and surrounding lakes were beautiful. Fall might be the only thing I miss about the South. Honestly, October in the South is just pretty hard to beat.
The year is going by pretty quickly. Tomorrow I have my first Business midterm. The midterm is supposed to be difficult. My TA (teacher's assistant) said that last year his raw score was a 74, but the curved score was a 93. It does worry me a bit, I'm not sure I'll ever consider myself ready. Other than that, I'm doing fairly well in my other classes. Nothing is too difficult yet, but it has only been the first month.

Are You Off Somewhere Reciting Incantations?

I'm taking a class about revolutions in Russia and China. Our first section of the semester is entirely focused on Russia, where we have had the joy of hearing parts of Russia compared to Jennifer Lopez, premature ejaculation, and the MBTA 'B' Green Line. The class is highly entertaining. Imagine Tobia Funke. Ok, now take away his awkwardness and replace it with a sort of charisma. Throw a thick Boston accent on and you have my professor.

Another class I have the pleasure of taking part in is the History of Western Ethics. We are learning about basic philosophy (or, as one girl noted, the Greek Gods. EDIT: We are learning nothing about the Greek Gods.) and so we have just finished Aristophanes and Plato. Next week we start Aristotle. An entertaining class, even if my professor seems a bit timid. I've learned the importance of a "Socratic fuck you," so I wouldn't say my time is being wasted. 

Natural Sciences anybody? Another great class with a very enjoyable professor. He treats us like high-schoolers, although insulting, it isn't too bad. It's nice to have a class move at a slower pace. He likes to remind us that magic doesn't exist and that we evolved independently of some supreme being. 

Last, but certainly not least, is my Business class. It's hell. It isn't that it is too difficult, it is just very much time consuming. I understand that I don't have it as bad as Ethiopian children, but they don't have to take a 6-credit business course do they? Of course not, they can't read. Lucky for them. 

That roughly describes my day to day at BU. It isn't much, but I find myself enjoying the classes more this year than last year. It's nice to actually want to go to class sometimes. Stalin, by the way, was a cruel bastard.

Sunlight Over Me No Matter What I Do

After a year sabbatical from my other blog, I feel it is now time to start again. My year away has been tumultuous to say the least. But it came and it went as most years often do and for that I am happy. 

As I currently look out of the 9th floor of my dormitory in Boston, I can see the hustle and bustle that is Commonwealth Ave and Beacon St. I often reflect of how happy I am to be here, for I have craved to be part of a city. The cool weather is finally settling in, and the Citgo light shines like a northern star, engulfing the room in a light that comforts me in knowing I am in my home away from home. Or perhaps, now that I spend most of my year here, this is my home. 

Regardless, my fortunes have changed. This year has brought untold amounts of joy and happiness, so much so that I often have trouble putting it into words. I am living better, healthier, and almost with a sense of purpose (I say almost because, let's face it, I am only a sophomore in college. Am I supposed to have a purpose other than "experimenting" with the world around me?)

I'm excited, to say the least.