If I had anything interesting to say, I'd write... type it... out here.

I just realized that I have not written in this since I created it, which is pretty pathetic, if I do say so myself. I logged into this g-mail nonsense my accident, and then I felt quite guilty. But I have no hilarous cat stories, I don't communicate with people through most of my day, and I feel as though I'm always way too tired to write anything down. So I shall now record my communications with ridiculous people from the past few days.

Today: So I am trying to find this guy on the internet that has requested a room analysis, but didn't draw out his room. See, I need to write him an email, to beg him to actually include a room diagram... but I don't want to call him by the wrong name. I assumed that since you can pretty much google anything nowdays, finding if this man's name is really Mayphous Collins wouldn't be too hard. I can't find him... perhaps I should just call him Mr. Collins? Where does the name Mayphous come from anyway?

Monday: I had to go to court for a horrible speeding ticket Monday morning in Effingham, of all places. Let me make this clear right now: I hate the town of Effingham. This hate has nothing to do with the fact that I was given a speeding ticket, because honestly, there's no denying that I deserved it. Actually, for the amount that I was speeding, they probably should have arrested me. But I think that my red, puffy eyes and lack of speech had the cop feeling somewhat sympathetic that night. Anyways... my hate stems from the fact that the town has what may be the country's largest cross... completely unnecessary. To add to the giant cross, while driving through the town, I'm pretty sure that I counted more churches than residential houses. I couldn't find ANY gas stations that had a bathroom that I could use... and I had to pee real bad. And then I get to the court house building, try to walk in at 7:59 am, and the security guard quickly ushers me away, pointing toward the door while saying, "We don't open until 8:00 am!" Really? One minute? I looked at my wrist, which has no watch on it, and looked back at him with skepticism. I was amazed. I was about an hour early for the court date, and sat down in the lobby to wait it out and read "Wicked". Fortunately, I found someone to talk to! She just happened to also be from St. Louis and temporarily staying in Indianapolis, though her reasons for fleeing St. Louis were MUCH more dramatic than mine. I never formally introduced myself, come to think of it, so I still don't know her name. But aside from her constant reminders to me to not be nervous in the court room because God will pull through, and to put my faith in Him... she was a great lady. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

I'm not sure if you can tell yet, but I despise religious fanatics... despise. Faith, in any form that best suits an individual, is important. I understand that. But organized religion is the plague of our society, as far as I am concerned.

She was an awful nice lady though.

Weekend: Well... I can't complain. I went camping this past weekend with Kyle Jones, his friends Ripp and Brett, and Ripp's girlfriend Ashden. We went down to Makanda, Illinois. The park was absolutely beautiful. And the little town of Makanda really reminded me of Ally... it's such a little hippie town... I think she'd love it. Quirky guy number #1, needless to say, came from the sandwich/coffee/ice cream shop in Makanda. This guy was obviously a bit of a burnout, but his sandwiches kicked butt. Perhaps this is because he spent a great deal of time on our five sandwiches, making sure that each sandwich had exactly the same amount of lettuce. I still argue that Ripp ruined his efforts by not eating all of the lettuce, just because it fell off the sandwich while he ate. Quirky family arrived at the camp sites on Saturday. I'm not sure where this family was from, or why they decided that out of all of the open camping lots, they had to pick the one right next to ours... but they were weird. First of all, I'm not sure why anyone would bring a wardrobe of urban-style clothing while camping, or why a father wearing un-attached overalls and a camo hat would justify to himself his eight year old dressing like a full-grown wigger. Interesting. More interesting was the abundance of non-firewood wood that they brought along. They had planks! It looked like they had torn up their living room couch for warmth. And to prove even further their strange obsession with our group, they would not stop staring at us. So we tried to guess what their background was, and told stories about their family life around our campfire. Maybe it was us who was obsessed with them. Either way, I'm sure we kept them awake long past their 10:00 bedtime with our drunken bantering (all six of them slept in the same tent, by the way).

Well, I don't really remember any days past the weekend at the moment.

My advice for the day: Though it may sound exciting to be "mentally equipped for finger-painting" (Mac Sauce, you know what I mean) when you will be hiking through countless trails... it is NOT exciting to be rock climbing in this frame of mind. In fact, it's quite frightening.