Vampires in Auburn

Some secret Dracula-in-hiding is happy. After a Bloodmobile's worth of samples taken for this test and that test, doctors are still not able to determine why I was sick with, among other things, a low-grade fever for four weeks. I cleared my full physical today with flying colors, and although I have more tests later this week, most dangerous and deadly diseases have been ruled out. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer to donate my body to science after my death - not before or during it. Happily, I'm feeling better and have my energy restored. I think it was a nasty virus that will go forever undiagnosed and unnamed. Until now.

I pronounce myself having just healed from... tepidity. Yes, tepidity - that gooey warm fever that just keeps you sweating in your sheets. Mmmm... takes you right back to Mom's chocolate chip cookies, doesn't it? The kind that are still warm from the oven (I slept with them to perfection*) and the chocolate bits are just slightly oozing (don't ask).

Otherwise, things have improved slightly on the Plains. Check out my website for pics of the new place. You should have my website address already... Email me if you don't. Work is going swimmingly; I'm really enjoying teaching this semester. It has fast become my favorite element of the term. I've met some cool people around town and have *gasp* formed some friendships and found some dating potential that I didn't know existed. True to the transient nature of a college town, Auburn guys are hard to keep around - even if they aren't students. Cross your fingers (and your legs*) for me.

*not that way

Lost in Space

That's how I feel lately. Remember just a few days ago how NASA scientists rejoiced at having their mathematical and scientific talents rewarded by witnessing a man-made spacecraft expertly crash into the leading edge of a comet? What so many people didn't pay much attention to was the fact that the entire event was caught on camera - from not-so-very afar. A "mother ship" was set in position on an interception course with the speeding comet, just waiting to jettison its lander to plunge into the mass of dust, ice, and supposedly life-enabling other material. A scientific orgasm of sorts was expected and indeed occurred.

I am that mother ship. I put myself on course to rendez-vous with a tiny little rock hurtling through space - a proverbial pebble containing some specific mass of happiness (Tons? Pounds? Ounces? Or does God prefer metric?) to which I calculated a perfectly straight trajectory accounting for every variable conceivable to man. Alas, just the conceivable ones... Something beyond my perception occurred at just the right moment to alter my course around the comet, however. I am left with my payload, alone in space after the temporary blinding effect of the corona passed before my wide-open, disbelieving - now sad - eyes. All I can do is watch my failed destiny and its seemingly magical tail stretch away from me.

In times like these I turn to my anthem of loneliness - "Table for Two" by Caedmon's Call:

Because I'm so scared of being alone / That I forget what house I live in. /But it's not my job to wait by the phone / For [him] to call... /... /And You know the plans that You have for me /And You can't plan the end and not plan the means /And so I suppose I just need some peace /Just to get me to sleep.

Oh, what I wouldn't give for a peaceful night's rest.