Facebook strikes again

This would be the second time that Facebook has taken down one of my videos, without prior warning or permission, due to an anonymous (to me) copyright claim.

Let me catch you up. A while back, I made a video. It consisted of video and pictures that I took on my camera during a week's worth of nature's goodness in Montana. Every single picture and every single second of video was shot with my own hands. The only thing in the video that did not belong to me was the background music, and I gave it just acknowledgment.

Now, that's the only reason I can see why they would do this. As far as I know, it's not against the law to use background music for a video. Even then-- I'm not intentionally attempting to damage the reputation or earnings of Boston, Newsboys, Switchfoot, Fastball, or Fatboy Slim with my video. All things considered, I'd say that even with my totally destructive video, they're doing "more than fine."

So, why? Why, Facebook? Am I such a terrible citizen that you deemed it necessary to devalue my hard work to criminal shame, without any semblance of a warning at all?

I filed a counter notice. We'll see where it goes.

Wasted votes

"No, seriously, who are you voting for?"

I'm not sure if anyone takes me seriously the first time I tell them that I'm voting for Ralph Nader. He's actually my favorite candidate, and if you find that hard to believe, then maybe you should detach that corporate media slurry hose from your mouth every once and a while. Look at what the man stands for... and look at what I stand for. If you don't think I would drop what I'm doing to take part in one of his causes, then we should chat sometime. You know, one on one.

I think he's very Christ-like. He cares about people, and he's never been paid to say it. In fact, all of the money he receives is guided by his own hands back to the people. I love that. He doesn't care that people don't think he's going to win. He sees the need to change the American political system back to the way it should be-- as it was laid out in the Constitution-- and he believes the only way to do this is from the inside. It's unfortunate that he'll never be on the inside, however, and this is probably why he'll never be elected. So, all you political noobs who want my vote in four years better start taking notes, because Nader resonates with people like me.

So, what is this talk about my vote being wasted?

Through the lens of a corporate-driven election, yes, it's wasted. I'm not voting for the two scumbags they want us to vote for. It's very true that Barack Obama refusing to debate with both John McCain and Ralph Nader on two separate occasions was a pretty smart political move. Why take on two old farts, when the people are fine with you taking on only one? It makes sense; but you see, it doesn't score any points on the accredited "legitimizing-the-opinions-of-other-citizens" meter. Now, that's what I call reaching across the aisle. I'm sorry, that might have been a bit close to home... just to be fair, everyone knows that McCain has been in big oil's back pocket, confessed to voting with a real stinker of a president 90% of the time, voted in favor of the Bailout just because "something needed to be done", and pulled one of the most monumentally shameless pandering ploys available for recollection from my own memory by picking Palin as a running mate. Seriously, what a tool.

Coming back to this ridiculous election, it's becoming every day more similar to a bad youth Christmas pageant-- the kind where Joseph and Mary are the star of the show, and you're just the unfamiliar kid in the corner dressed like a sheep, and I'll let you guess which one of these weiners is Mary. It's awful to watch people try to be active in the political process, only to be led by the nose to only two of the six legitimate candidates. So, on the grand scale of things, I suppose my vote is twistedly for McCain... somehow.

But it got me thinking, that's for sure.

Over and over, I've made fun of single-issue voters. Primarily, Christian single-issue voters are about abortion and gay rights (or wrongs, rather). Now, I'm being persecuted, because I don't stand on either side of the political fence. One side wants me to vote in line with my Biblical values (which I've read, and buddy, "pre-emptive strike" and "regime change" are not the same as "love your enemy"); yet the other argues that my vote draws from their pool of votes out to the radical (which is a viewpoint that hasn't even been legitimized by your actions in any way-- thanks to your shrewd politics, you've alienated a powerful group).

It makes me think that people shouldn't be persecuted by how they vote. It's their vote, after all.

Vote for McCain. Vote for Obama. Nader, Barr, McKinney, Baldwin... maybe just the candidate that promises to do what you want them to do-- it doesn't matter to me. Just vote, and I promise not to make fun of you.

Wasted votes. You've got to be kidding.

James' top 10 of relevance

This is how you copy your friends. Also, to blog when I really don't know what to say... and the music I hear says it all so well.

1) "Weighed Down" > Jars of Clay

(As we deny that love is still the king / not as weak as we make him out to be / love lies here waiting all alone / can a king be a king weighed down?)

2) "Showdown" > Pendulum

(But it's simple, you were wrong / you must have known that we did not belong / I know you thought I sold my soul / but you never told me to my face / I just had to let you go)

3) "The Spy Hunter" > Project 86

(Pawns standing in awe / of the game, of the stage / you worked so hard at building an empire / of secret rooms to display to yourself / and add to your wealth / and the sting of, oh, it stings / when I saw it all come crashing / I witnessed the sound of a million voices / screaming for a public hanging)

4) "Countin' Down the Days" > PAX217

(Now I'm waiting for the day, the day to come / when I, when I will be with you / I know where you went / I know where you are / I know who you're with 'cause your just like Him / I'm gonna see you in a little while)

5) "You're On Fire" > MxPx

(Now that you're on fire, you're voice is like the wind / now that you're on fire, let life begin again / now that you're on fire, a new day has begun / now that you're on fire, you are like the sun / more than anything I'd like to see / better brighter days for you, for you and me)

6) "This Is The Countdown" > Mae

(you tread to stay above the waterline / but never taking off the weights that / keep us stuck here / in the comfort, in the fear / I’ll never know what we were fighting for /but I’m still looking to break out)

7) "Farsighted" > Five Iron Frenzy

(to all the farsighted, the skies never looked so clear / hello to the hopeful, goodbye to the full of fear / glorious, luminous / the heavens have painted, have brushed you with angel wings / and you know in your heart / that the farsighted see better things)

8) "The Nothing" > Equalibrum (misspell intended)

(lurking in shadows and creeping in darkness / is a will to commit an unspeakable harm / so this is the pick of a beat of heart / that women and children are easily marked / completes every deed and as vicious imparts / it's here and it's keen and it's visibly sharp / appearing in flesh in its various forms / shadows the earth as it hovers and swarms / feeding on anything breathing and warm... / when you open your door, it's already inside)

9) "Permanent Holiday" > Suicide Machines

(just to today, I was forced to say / I'm going on a permanent holiday / I'll drop what I'm doing, it's okay / I'm going on a permanent holiday / left a note saying I'll be gone for a long time)

10) "15" > Surrogate

(so forget about the money / and forget about yourself / and forget about the calculated risk / it never ends well)



There it is. I would suggest these songs to anyone; their rockitude is unmatched.

How to jump the gun properly

So- dreams the other night. The first one is a little creepy, and doesn't really tie in, but I thought I'd add it in anyway. This is my journal, and there's something about it that makes me want to ensure that I don't forget.

Dream #1: My friends (I forget the faces, exactly) and I are inside an old creepy house with lots of windows and two stories. It's the type of dream that isn't exactly in B & W, but not totally in color either. Sort of a grayscale/sepia tone going on there, with old looking furniture. Very unhappy clouds in the sky, but no rain. Stay with me, now. For some weird reason, a freaky little girl comes down out of the sky in a cyclone-type funnel and begins to walk toward the house. It's always a freaky little girl, right? Anyway, she attempts to convince the rest of us that one of us has committed a blatant offense which must be punished by death.

Do we take the bait? No. We stab the ho.

Afterward, she reappears out of the sky and accuses another one of us of a different crime, and we take the liberty to sing her a different lullaby for her next dirtnap. Gun-- dead. Even blunt-freaking-broomhandle: vanquished. Every time we do this, the bodies continue to pile. It's no wonder I woke up and thought I was losing my mind. Jury's still out on this one.

Then, the dream that correctly corresponds with the title...

Dream #2: I come across the revelation that I can graduate this year. That's right, in Spring 2009, with the rest of my classmates. This is the one that woke me up for good-- the terror of seeing the ASP in a dream is truly formidable. But it made me think... could that be true?

When I checked the ASP, I got my answer. Myth "confirmed."

Thoughts poured down through my brain, and my cognition was awash with the possibility of graduating this year: $24,500 that would not even need mention, a headstart on my peers in the field, a launch into the life I'm pursuing, and a real chance to test by fire the solidity of my faith in an unbelieving world. Hold, please.

Would I even be ready?

"... but the Lord directs his steps..." Guys, I don't know about this one.

Stallion's song, reprise

Ice cream? You've got to be kidding. I wasn't there, but I swear I could see the insult shatter against Papa's stern countenance in the nursing home.

This stallion wrote his rules-- he knew that within the limits of God's pasture, the grass was greenest. The best part was the wind against his back. The only time he wore a saddle was when he became too weak to buck it off; even then, he still refused to be tamed. And here, in the nursing home, he was making ice cream with the other women. How did you think it was? Is the stifling chafe of this saddle supposed to be as worthy against the skin as the soft breath of freedom?

"It sucked."

Just let it come, he said. Even before he began to improve, he accepted the end. You can't live forever. If this is how it must be, then take me away. This was neither a plea to live, nor a plea to die.

It was only the simple submission that the life of a saint is never his in the first place.

[Rest in peace, Papa. Should the skies fall, my heart will never forget you.]

Victory and/or death

You know, I can't believe it's finally here. We leave for Cedar Bend tomorrow. I hope to G-d that this semester will be as memorable as it has been fast.

Anxiety and excitement spark back and forth in my brain in equal amounts. Of course I don't know what will happen-- that's part of the experience. How much could I control... what levers are in my reach to tweak? The usual situation, though, ends up showing me that my finger is too weak to push these kinds of buttons: they're meant for bigger hands.

Hallelujah. I will say again, hallelujah; for uncertainty is the yeast of our daily bread. For who can see the product of a baker's labor until after it is too late to turn back? In the same way, I lead my group as we test this depth with both feet. It will be dreadfully uncomfortable, and we might not emerge again in this ocean. But I tell you the truth-- I would rather drown as a body suspended and dependent on the permeating, penetrating sea of the mercy and love of Christ than breathe another breath of the deadly, destructive oxygen that swamps the world. I fear not that I may never again take in the air of self-centered arrogance... no, I embrace the sacrifice of succumbing in worldly death to G-d's endless, overwhelming grace.

I'm warning you. It costs little to be safe. It costs everything to be free.

Politics makes my truth hurt.

Some of you may have seen commercials on TV, with scary corporate logos that read "Human Double Inc" and "EMBROLUX." If any of you may possibly have been misled by this hostile attempt to invade your private mind, read and be enlightened:

ARTICLE 1
Section 27. (1) Nothing in this section shall alter Michigan’s current prohibition
on human cloning.

and...

(2) (c) No person may, for valuable consideration, purchase or sell human
embryos for stem cell research or stem cell therapies and cures.

Oh, so Proposal 2 won't legalize human cloning or sale of human embryos. What a relief!

The Big Dream

My dream involves physics. You were warned.

In class today, we were discussion the "conservation of linear momentum." In English: things don't just start moving. The energy has to come from somewhere, and in quantities related to mass and speed. So, we used the example of a car on Earth. When a car accelerates, it pushes off the Earth. Therefore, the total momentum of the planet Earth is affected every time I pull out of the parking lot. What a trip. So, this got me thinking. I raised my hand, and asked the question,

So, if we coordinated every car on Earth to drive in the direction against Earth's rotation, could we theoretically add an hour to the day?

In theory, yeah, that would work. I thought it made sense. My question was shortly thereafter shot down like a New York yuppie in the parking lot of U of M Flint.

No, there's really no way.

A curse on you, dream-stealer! I say all of that to say this: don't be afraid to ask the big questions. I know it would take hundreds of years for cars all going the same direction to even add ten minutes to a day... but the idea is fascinating, isn't it? Some people want us to believe that the border of "no, there's really no way" is lined by concrete walls and razor wire, with armed guards at every possible crossing. I tell you that the imagination treats this fence as the wall of a sand castle-- the overwhelming, God-modeling tide of human curiosity blows it away as soon and often as it desires, and this is not a behavior that can be repressed.

Thank God.

A little nugget of wisdom

I hate when people say that. However, I feel like this saying, which I recently received, is important:


"When work begins to feel overwhelming, just remember that you're going to die."


I can only hope. puh.

Stallion's song

"You've lived your whole life for us, Dad."

Those were the words of assurance from my mother to my grandfather this past weekend. I watched on, uncomfortably, as a man I always knew to be so tough and strong was held to a hospital bed by the lead weight in his lungs. Machines, tubes, wires-- medicine was doing jobs he'd been doing unassisted his entire life. Simple breath came as a chore; one painful chore after another. The morphine took the edge off, but I could see that cringe of pain in his face every time his heart monitor began to chirp. Tears flooded the room. After all, this was the man who survived so many attempts on his life from nature... then, to hear him mutter the battered words: "I give up." Tears were our only reaction.

It was too much... for all of us.

It was then that Father Bob cautiously waded into the room. The fear of death and the red-hot hand of pain must have been evident in Papa's eyes, because Father Bob knew exactly what to say. And God began to speak... not from a loop, not a recording. This was for him, and us.

"Tony, this is not giving up. This is not defeat. This is victory. When you see that light, you don't hesitate. You run for that light, Tony."

Saline fear gushed out from Papa's eyes. The works of his life, the people he lifted up in spite of himself, the world he changed forever-- they came to the front. Fear was not his salvation, and he was firmly convinced. God's vessel was ready to return to its harbor.

So, who will carry this man's legacy? When he finally departs, will he know that the love and power that comes from the perfect law that gives freedom... will he know that I, for the rest of my days, will keep it with me?

Rice A Roni

[ME is browsing Facebook on his computer in the kitchen, visibly bored. A lukewarm skillet, filled with uncooked rice/vermicelli mix sits on the stove top. MIRACLE enters.]

ME This Rice a Roni is taking forever to cook. [exasperated sigh] Maybe I added too much butter. I dunno.

MIRACLE Oh, well, see here? This knob? You turn it up.

ME [not paying attention] Dude, I already have it up more than I should. It's gotta be too much butter.

MIRACLE No, I mean this knob. [points to the "rear left" knob, which my skillet is on] Unless, of course, you want to use the right one.



Where would I be without my friends?
I mean, besides hungry. =)

Life on an abacus

I know it was for the freshmen, but something that Dr. Correll said during the seminar today resonated with me. I wish I could quote it, but I can't produce what he said, verbatim. So instead, it's story time.

Back during my freshman year, I took a class called EDU 100; the introductory education class. Not being completely convinced of my calling to teaching, I decided to give this class a shot to be my make or break in the field. Now, everything was going well until I began my classroom observations. My assignment was to observe a typical 10th grade biology classroom-- my projected stomping ground after graduation-- for a few hours every week. That which I expected to be an eye-opening experience made sure not to disappoint. It was interesting to me enough, as a scientist, to watch cause-and-effect relationships all around the room; to break the act of learning into a cold science. I'm not saying that's all that happened, I'm just saying that was my reaction. My life, as I knew it, would be built around a daily seven-hour block of tables, figures, definitions, and dissections; hook-ups, break-ups, dances, and assemblies. Some people have no trouble living life in a predictable schedule. I declined. It was in that moment in time when I used college to discover something about myself, and that was that I handle routine the same as a plague.

So, back to senior year. I sit in White Auditorium, next to the greatest core instructor ever, contemplating the way I live. When I returned to my room, I looked at my daily schedule on Facebook... and sighed in relief. What was presented to me was as much of my life that may be presented on a table: the portion of my existence that shows up on a graph. Let me tell you, and you can check for yourself, it's not much. Others need me to be predictable, and I understand why. But even more so, I need... I desire; I am unbridled in my desire to be unpredictable.

After all, who decided life should be that way? The tedious comparison of every second against the colored paper table on the door... the dull, grayscale moments of my day slowly descend into obscene cold in my soul. My soul, then, exploding from being compressed, somehow, into a cubic representation of a "productive" existence. Screams pour out from under the lid of the casket where a childlike approach to faith and living is contained, as rays of light in the darkness. The overgrown path to the Father, warmed by the bare footsteps of indomitable children, guides me through every day.

Sanctified to Wonder

Burn.
Landscape,
all I see--
all I see burns.
See
what comes!
The nothing
inside our homes.
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
are they the same?
Turn,
fall down.
"Break our hearts;
we broke your heart."
Love,
power,
forgiveness;
have been the same.
See
our God!
His mercy,
his compassion.
Burn.
We all
meet with you
after we burn.

You
will give
praising lips
the words to say.
You,
the dreams,
deliverance,
wonders of You.

(Joel 2)

Usurper

It's interesting to see what I do when I actually do it. I find it interesting to see that my soul believed that I wasn't kidding around when I adopted my family motto (translated from Latin): deeds without words. Hunger is what I now deal with, fire is the inhabitant of my spirit. I simply cannot stop becoming more of the man I am meant to be in Christ... and it is absolutely one of the most thrilling processes I've ever experienced.

However, it would be admittedly more thrilling if it didn't involve so much work. Biochemistry is not easy, nor is spiritual formation, nor abnormal psychology, nor physics. Unlike similar, former phases, I am unhinged in the pursuit of what is good. Nothing holds me back from being what I need to be. Nothing holds me back from harnessing what I am through action.

Like I said, thrilling. I'd recommend this to everyone.

A lightning-rod wrist

Worship is the admission that we mean nothing in the vast scope of a wonderful creation.

Worship is the celebration that we mean everything to a vast and wonderful Creator.

Amateur Meteorologists

Storm's coming.

I remember feeling the same way last year. Like I've said to all of them, all of the new PAs last year looked around at each other on Sunday last year, and silently channeled the same, desperate thought: "What the heck did we get ourselves into?"

As a group, we've been going through 1 Thessalonians. Robin gave us a few verses to think over, and there were quite a few correlations between the ink on the page and the motives in our hearts. I decided to write a few lines of verse for each of the verses she gave us during our reflection times. These became, then, a very long compilation of verse... which is rickety and doesn't always flow. However, I think it fits as encouragement for all of us. Here it is.

1 Thes 1:4, 2:7-8, 2:12, 3:8, 3:11, 4:7, 4:18, 5:11

There was a sign,
so odd that it came through the telephone.
What did I find?
So odd to understand that I'm not alone.
We are all on the same island in the sea,
with no clue what we're worth or we are to be.
The escape lowered to my hands, I held
just us and no one else-- just us and no one else.

So childish in your ways and holy in your thoughts;
so proven what gentleness such righteousness has bought.
The paper reads, "Look up, and see:
play along with your family."
As we show you what is good and right,
no praise could summon higher delight.

The face of the furnace, grim, unrelenting;
the sinews of my weak heart are dissenting.
In, in, walk boldly in the heat,
and bet my life you'll follow me.

I close my eyes to see
your bold faces breathe in me.
If only your eyes could see
my life abundantly.

The hopefulness of sound
makes me wish I was around,
just so I could sing the tune.
But all my best laid plans
have no place in this dance.
Still, love increases, look at you!

As the mouth of the ocean
consumes the side of a mountain,
tarnished, beaten rocks spill out into the sea.
Your very lives have spoken
of chains that were broken,
set apart is now the only thing you can be.

When your mind is lost on the ocean waves,
when your feet burn in paths of flame,
in these words, may you find rest:
dancing in the fog is what we do best.

It's true, what the king said.
When blood melts the earth, his words pulse through my head.
Who were just spectators,
are now my valued, steel-hearted brothers and sisters.
So when the sun explodes, and the moon turns a cold face;
we chosen, we happy few, we will have grace.



Man, what should I even name this? So dang discombobulated... =P

Terra Therma

Three blank, white walls
enclose what has passed.
They offer no calm;
comfort does not last.
Drink in the sky,
what's left of the chains
shuts out all the light--
black as the night rain.
The smoke is inhaled,
it waits in the lungs;
but life can prevail
with a headlong plunge in the fire

The choice we all must make
between the heat and the fire:
there lie sinful graves
between the heat and the fire.
Rooms which held your youth,
halls in which you perspired
held such childish truth;
halls in which you perspired.

Follow, headfirst into the flames!
The red and black ink says you'll never be the same.
Headstones, burnt in the cliff-side,
will always mark what we left behind.

Game review: Disney's Pirates Online

Under the influence of my "friends", I decided to download and try out Pirates Online. This game was an awful waste of time. I give it a -9.5/10, and I would not recommend it to anyone, ever.


Now, I'll explain.

First of all, on the website, the required system specs to run the game could be found on a computer that was built to survive the Y2K virus. However, I found my computer (which is significantly better than the required system to run the game) was constantly trying to keep up. I would take a few steps, freeze. Another couple of steps, freeze. This took place on an island where it was only me walking around, making it very difficult for me to slay a sand crab before it pinched me to death. Ugh.

Next was the name system... I can understand what they were trying to do with this, and I understand why they want it this way. You're only allowed to have a "piratey" name. It makes sense, doesn't it? Now, they give you a set of pirate names they've provided that you may choose a combination of for your pirate. I didn't like any of them. After a little deliberation, I decided on the name "Tiny Hands Flannigan." After all, he was my pirate, and he had a mohawk. I followed the long list of rules they gave me, and turned my name in for approval; I was temporarily given the name "Pirate." This afternoon, while I was loading the game and simultaneously wondering why I hadn't already uninstalled this stupid game, a message box brings word that my submitted name had been rejected. Seriously? Seriously. Apparently, "Tiny Hands Flannigan" has some innuendoes or drug references of which I was previously unaware. I had to settle for "Isaiah McWrecker."Ugh.

Finally, the commercial says the game is free and it lies. While you can play the main story quest (and believe me, it takes a while) and get a few goodies and upgrades for free, the vast majority of the game is available for $10/month. Give me a break! So, after getting stabbed to death by a giant scorpion on a deserted island for a sufficient amount of time to afford a nicer ship, Isaiah McWrecker gets to look forward to sailing around in the same frickin' sloop he started off in. Ugh.

There are redeeming qualities. The most obvious is the fact that you can be a pirate, which rules. The ability to run around and slay baddies with weapons such as a cutlass, pistol, or even a voodoo doll is pretty wicked-- and the fighting was admittedly cool when I stumbled upon a ten-second lapse in the walk-freeze-walk cycle. Finally, I loved to sail and take down ships in the open water. But it's tough when you can't see what's happening most of the time, and even tougher when the only ship you can sail in is constantly inferior, because you haven't handed any money over to the Disney empire for a digital galleon. "Captain McWrecker" doesn't really have a good ring to it, anyway.

It's a pretty good idea, but the epic-failitude in fundamentals (such as allowing the game to run smoothly, giving me my creativity, or the ever-important free of cost) hurts this game way too bad for it to ever be fun.

By the way, I apologize for yelling "Stop blowin' 'oles in my ship!" every twenty seconds in the lobby this afternoon. I couldn't help it.

The Hand, The Furnace, The Straight Face

The tension is mounting here. Students all over the area are anticipating our return to this school, whether grudgingly or excitedly. What's even more urgent-- the days are falling off the countdown even quicker this month.

This will be a test. As with every major step forward in life, this school year will shake out what we've decided to keep in our souls. Sure, we can allow God to be the potter to our clay. We respond joyfully, like good disciples, to our shaping. However, a vessel in this state is absolutely worthless.

It is made whole in the fire.

How will we react to the heat? The intensity of the kiln of our lives, will it leave us cracked? Split, disfigured, useless? Will we discover that our preparation was flawed, leaving us to deal with such gross inequities and an inherent inability to cope? Will we be stricken by despair in regard to our new-found worthlessness?

No.

We will be solidified. We will be transfigured. Our souls, in their fragility, will contain the joy and love of the living God. We will see with our own eyes what God has decided we will become, and we will be overjoyed at the sight of the virtuosity of his intensional craftsmanship. But for this to occur, one thing is certain:

He must be the potter.

No one else can take our most troubling, depressing, recurring-nightmare-causing issues and form them into such, as beautiful as this. We must stare down our wills on the dust-swept roads of our hearts. We must order our sin to be put to death. We must be willing to be put in the fire.

The prayer of Hezekiah, a man in the fire:

"O Lord, God of Israel, enthroned between the cherubim, you alone are God over all the kingdoms of the earth. You have made heaven and earth. Give ear, O Lord, and hear; open your eyes, O Lord, and see; listen to the words Sennacherib has sent to insult the living God.
It is true, O Lord, that the Assyrian kings have laid waste these nations and their lands. They have thrown their gods into the fire and destroyed them, for they were not gods but only wood and stone, fashioned by men's hands. Now, O Lord our God, deliver us from his hand so that all kingdoms on earth may know that you alone, O Lord, are God."

Hezekiah had no reservations in his trust in God, even with an incredibly mighty and insulting Assyrian army breathing down his neck-- threatening to destroy his nation, his wealth, and his power. He trustingly admits that he is not the potter. He puts the situation into the hands of a god that was not created, but creates. I don't want to ruin the ending for you. I will say that Isaiah got involved, and this king came out of the fire as a beaming, glowing hot, bright red vessel of God's glory.

2 Kings 18-20 tell the story, and I highly recommend it.

Night of the Walking Rave

What happens when the power goes out in the village?

RAVE.

I'm gonna admit, I was feeling pretty good tonight. I had rocked my finals in phlebotomy (written and practical), and I came back to hang out with my friends. All of a sudden, during a video game...

ZAP mmmmrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrow. Bye bye light.

We only had the emergency lights on, and that was pretty much all. We're all freaking out, because 1) a certain couple was going at it in the lobby, and we all faced it when we walked out of our rooms 2) our alarms were toast, and there was really no sure way that we'd be on time for work tomorrow 3) no A/C meant that we'd probably not get to sleep anyway. As I wander around the campus to measure the situation, a couple of campus safety officers approach with light sticks, in order for us to see in our dark rooms. They handed them out to us as we stood in a huddled mass in the parking lot, complaining. Of course, my mind swam in the ocean of only one, truly beautiful idea...

RAVE.

I run in and get my computer, load a bunch of sick dance music on a playlist, bring the computer out to the parking lot, and blared it. It was awe-inspiring. After a while, it began to lose steam. People got tired, or were just not feeling the need to dance with lightsticks in the parking lot. Go figure. One of the officers tells us that it would be okay to go chill in the student center while the power was fixed. Thus began

the Night of the Walking RAVE.

I carried my computer, and so ensured that we would continue to soak the air with obnoxiously contagious beats and samples as we walked across the campus. We stopped at Gainey, and shared the experience with the Highbeamers. We raved on the Concept. We raved in the library. We finally stopped at the Fireside, where we raved until about midnight. At the signal that the power was then restored, we returned to the village. But we will never forget the rave.