Tiny Tim Turner

Tiny Tim Turner was quite a quick learner,

he learned many things with great ease.

He learned how to count, how to spell, how to read,

he learned to say "thank you" and "please."

With all the many things that tiny Tim knew,

he always got straight A's in school;

But now Tim was sad, for the other kids said

that getting straight A's wasn't cool.

English and history, science and math -

those questions, he answered them all.

The only thing in school he didn't do well

was the dreaded game of Dodgeball.

It was quite plain to see, when they went to P.E.

Tim wasn't the head of the class.

Nobody wanted him on their team,

and so he was always picked last.

Tim wished he were good at games such as these,

but clearly that wasn't the case.

Every day in the gym, they threw the ball at him,

and laughed when it bounced off his face.

So it came to pass that one day in class,

there rang that unwelcome bell.

Tim gathered his things and went to the nurse,

to say he didn't feel well.

The nurse said to Tim, "Oh, not you again!

You're not sick, get out of my room."

Tim gave a great sigh, and to himself cried,

"She's sending me back to my doom."

When Tim got back, the teams had been picked

and the game already begun.

Tim picked a side, and stood back to hide,

and just knew this wouldn't be fun.

Left! and Right! and Up! and Down!

Back and forth he fled.

Dipping and diving and ducking and dodging,

avoiding the blurs of red.

After a while Tim looked up,

and suddenly came to see

that three were left on the other team

and on his team, was only he.

Tim couldn't believe what had happened,

he finally got his big chance.

Then three dodgeballs came flying at him,

and awoke him out of his trance.

What happened next was incredible;

they had said it couldn't be done.

One ball in each arm, and one in between -

all caught, and Tim had won!

The yells rang out throughout the whole school,

Tim's moment had finally come.

His teammates cheered and high-fived him

until his whole hand was numb.

They still tell the tale of Tim's victory

to this very day at that school.

They tell all the kids of what tiny Tim did,

and how being smart can be cool.

Southern Weather

I love the weather like this. It's a bit drizzly, but it's been pouring for a couple days. So, it's post-torrent, but not sunny yet. I love it. It always reminds me of something. I'm not sure what it reminds me of. But it reminds me of something. To be quite honest with you, I'm not even sure it reminds me of a real thing. I could make something up, maybe. Say it reminds me of sometime in my childhood. As a kid, I would love days like this because the creek near my house would flood and my friend and I would float all the way through the woods in the flooded stream. Every time it would start raining I would sit and hope for enough rain to flood the creek. But that's not what these days remind me of. I mean, they do, in the sense that I can think back and remember floating down the creek. But not in the way that I am reminded of something else. It's like on days like this, I can just look up at the sky and think to myself, "I've been here before." Not here, as in whatever physical location I happen to be at that moment. Just - here. I can look up into the gray mist, and the mist in the air clears the mist in my head. What sunshine does for some people, cool and overcast days do for me. Suddenly, I realize I've been here before. I don't really know what that means. But I mean it. You can take that pretty much however you want. I'm not gonna look too far into it. I'm just going to enjoy it while I can. You know what they say..... the sun'll come out, tomorrow.

Th-th-that's all, folks! (maybe)

So, guess who has his last day of undergrad class ever today??? I'll give you 3 guesses. What? No, it's not Corey Hart. Why would you guess Corey Hart? You are the worst guesser ever. You know what, I revoke your other 2 guesses. It's me! My last day of class (maybe) ever is today! I mean, I have 6 credit hours left before I graduate, but I'm getting those with a trip to Costa Rica, so they don't count. As I look back over these past 4 years, I remember...not much, actually. My memory's not the best sometimes. So now, we move on. To where, you ask? Well, you see, that's a very good question. I sort of wish I knew the answer. But I'm also sort of glad I don't (though I have a few family members who are much more exasperated over it than I am). We always hear about living in faith, and my complete lack of planning and/or, well, planning, I suppose, either shows that I am starting to live in faith, or it may show that I am a terrible planner with no regard for my future. Either way, I'm excited. Really, I do believe that God has some sort of plan for me, and I'm excited to find out what it is. Knowing me, I probably won't find out until I'm already there, but whatever. For now, here we are. My last day of undergraduate class ever, and depending on future decisions (blah,blah,blah), maybe my last day of school EVER! I really do hate school. Growing up, nobody seemed to realize this fact. It was always like, "Yeah, you hate school, whatever." I know kids are supposed to say they hate school, but I truly always felt my hatred was truer and deeper than most. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. I still believe it was. I think people never believed me because I made good grades or something. Like hating school is contingent upon being bad at it. This is not the case. School and I have never had a very good relationship. And now it is (maybe) over forever. Am I nostalgic, looking back and seeing all the good in school? Not at all. Maybe years down the road it will be different. For now though, all I have to say to school is this - I hate you. So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Aaaaand boom goes the dynamite

They've always said, "You'll do quite well,
I really now must say-"
If only I could write a villanelle.

The big word seemed to ring a bell,
And I acquiesce, for they -
They've always said, "You'll do quite well."

But suddenly my spirits fell,
For I couldn't, try though I may.
If only I could write a villanelle.

This anxiety I must quell,
I hate to disappoint this way...
They always said, "You'll do quite well."

My back is forced against the rail,
I must find something to say...
If only I could write a villanelle.

Suddenly the words came in a hail,
The outline clear as day-
They've always said, "You'll do quite well,"
And i wrote a freakin' villanelle! (sort of)