Lack of blogging is indeed a severe problem of late. I have been up to stuff. And junk. Additionally, How 'bout them Bears? There was certainly an excessive amount of hooting and hollering on my part last Sunday. There may even have been some chest-bumping. Although it took about until the last five minutes for me to believe that they might actually pull it off. I will of course be cheering next Sunday with the traditional chant of "Don't Suck! *clap* *clap*", but hey, they weren't supposed to beat the Saints either. Go Bears!

And I appear to be going to a monster truck rally next Saturday... in Peoria. This was not my idea, but I'm the only one with access to a car who's willing to humor this little excursion, and it should be entertaining. Zach conceived this plan, and has recruited three more lunatics. One of them plans to go in drag. There is some expectation this will lead to a fight, or litigation. I, with my love of wandering into large, agitated crowds and attempting to make a scene, fear we may all be killed. But probably nothing will come of it...

Also, I have become addicted to the Dark Tower series by Stephen King, as it is basically a fantasy series featuring Clint Eastwood and much crazy plot-twistiness. I had forgotten just how much I like a good novel. And by "like", I mean " am willing to rip through as though the pages were laced with cocaine". Good stuff.

Must run off and feast on delicious grease products.

I'd just like to point out that the Bears really started to bring it as soon as it began snowing. Maybe Bears Weather isn't a myth after all.

I'm back at school now, which is a strange adjustment. Before I left I saw "Beauty and the Beast" at the Music Box. The old French flick was being shown as part of the Janus film series there. It's certainly a quality piece of cinema, but I started thinking as I was watching it: Sure, it's supposed to be a classic love story that shows the importance of finding the inner goodness in people, but couldn't it also be one of the first documented cases of Stockholm Syndrom? Think about it.

In conclusion, why don't they make books like this anymore?

The blog is languishing. Time to give it some pep.

It snowed today, which is a good thing because I was beginning to wonder whether global warming had driven away the white stuff for good.

And while it snowed, I was hard at work. The past couple days I have been cleaning out the rooms in my old Catholic grade school. The institution closed about two years ago--shut down most unjustly by the archdiocese--though some would say it was only a shell of its former self and that it was time for it to close. Debatable.

Either way, large school building and all its contents were left undisturbed this entire time. Now the parish has found someone to lease the building--a good thing, to be sure. The new leasers will be doing a whole heap of remodeling, which means it's finally time to haul out 60+ years of school-themed junk.

It's strange to haul out bags and bags of either your childhood mementos or someone else's. It's strange to walk the deserted halls you spent 9 years in, where everything still smells the same. On one hand, I would say I'm not the right person for this job, but then again, it's almost like the death of a relative. Who better to clean out the old building than myself? It's almost like a responsibility.

One rarely thinks too hard about dead schools, at least not about their innards. Of course, there are some things you expect to find, like hundreds of small desks:


great old vinyl-covered furniture:


or the remnants of a chess club:


Then there are the more odd items. Things locked away in cabinets for a couple decades. Things such as old educational film-strips with accompanying record:


abandoned girl-scout craft projects:


an old cigar box filled with monopoly money:


or an entire cabinet filled with glass laterns made from ashtrays:


All in all, a lot of memories come back to you, embedded in the hallways and classrooms. There was something eerie about walking into the old boys locker room and instantly remembering where everyone used to stand as we dressed for gym class.


There are melancholy images:


and cheerful ones:


In the end, however, everything has to go to the same place:


May it rest in peace.


Happy 2007, everyone.