Not exactly an art gallery...

Last semester I had this ridiculously amazing professor of urban ecology and sociology. He would often regale us with tales of his debauchery...and by debauchery what I mean is "accidently" catching drug deals on camera, then having to scale fences to escape the overlords as they chased him around the streets of the Bronx.

I'm sure he was only exaggerating a little bit.

At any rate, in a similar fashion, when Jo and I had to go to the Gallery (inner city Philadelphia, for those who aren't familar with the terminology) for some debaunchery of our own, I decided to hang out the car window snapping pictures of various incidents of urban disorder and decay. Broken windows theory, anyone? I'm sure that I'll use these somewhere along the way in a paper or presentation, and I'm sure that I came damn close to getting shot to get some of these so I thought I'd share them here, such an obvious forum for open discussion on justice theory.

Without further adieu, I give you the Gallery. Some of the pictures are a tad blurry. We were two white girls in an SUV in one of the worst areas in the country. Of course we were going 50 mph.

I love the BMW...parked next to a dirty sidewalk and a building with metal gates over the doors.
The further into the ghetto you go, the bigger percentage they take out of whatever check you're cashing. Incidently, there's also a disproportionately high number of fine establishments to buy chicken fried steak. Apparently it sells well with shrimp lo mein and gumbo.

By this time next year, I'll be able to read that writing and know exactly what it means. Undoubtedly it's a gangland turf war of some sorts.
I think the grey overcast says it all.

This was by far my favourite picture of the day. If memory serves, it was taken while speeding past one of those fine cuisine establishments I mentioned early, but I believe they specialized in a combination of Jamaican, Ethiopian and cheesesteaks.

I really need a hobby...knitting anyone?

When Ash is bored in Pennsylvania she...

Takes bad pictures of herself while wearing a tshirt that supports a fraternity she has no affiliation with whatsoever. Furthermore, aforementioned tshirt was stolen from her hall during move out...mostly because she was bored.

Steals innocent stop signs from strip malls, gives them harsh German names and calls them her own. Ladies and gentlemen, please meet Johann van Bitte, the product of some Saturday night debauchery with Jo.

When Ash gets bored in DC she...

Dances on her bed, much to the fear of her laptop and the detriment of her laundry.
Drinks far too much, speaks only in a British accent and threatens to have Earle's head chopped off a la Marie Antoinette.

Sketches cracked out drawings and deragatory remarks on people's arms in the metro. I'm fairly certain that took a good week to come off Kat's arm.

Considering that there were grammatical errors in the test itself...

...I suppose it's not a half bad assessment of my political leanings. Though considering the black and white nature of the response choices, I strongly suspect that the moderates who should be running the country are getting lost in the shuffle of polarized politics.

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 20% Conservative, 80% Liberal

Social Issues: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

Fiscal Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal

Defense and Crime: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal

How Liberal Or Conservative Are You?

Now that I'm back in York for the time being, I seem to find myself caring more and more about the world around me. I think it's because I'm more isolated from that world here.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I've lost my ability to sleep in and get bored pretty easily.

It's understood that Hollywood sells Californication

I was reading through journal entries from the summer before I left for DC (2 years ago for those well acquainted with the interior decor of the short bus) and I just can't believe how very different I am now. The changes have all been very gradual, so I only notice them when doing a comparison of...say...dates or events, but they are there.

Sure, there are some aspects of me that are pretty much the same...Botticelli and Rembrandt are still my favourite artists, Shinedown's 45 will always remind me of my dad and I'll probably never figure out the correct usage of the comma, but the overarching theme of the past two years has apparently been change like it's hot. Some of the differences I can identify...I've curbed my rampant liberalism a bit in favor of moderation on many issues, my academic focus shifted from medieval European history to justice theory and public policy and...let's face it...I have friends whose livers could give Chernobyl and Three Mile Island a run for their money. But there are some changes in me that I wouldn't (and don't) notice unless they're pointed out to me by some sort of third party (the advice of whom I typically ignore out of a gradually strengthening fear of being controlled).

Overall, I guess I have a pretty good idea who I was and who I am now and, for the most part, I'm OK with that (both people were/are approrpriate for their life situations and when I stumble to a mirror to brush my teeth in the morning (I still do that obsessively) I don't want to gouge out my eyes with a Q-tip (that I still buy en masse) ). What I'm completely lost on is who I'll be and what I'll be doing two years from now.

I can't even begin to speculate on who I'll be. The greatest influences on my life have always been the people I'm closest with and god only knows who's going to come along and shove me in another direction. That's not to say I'm going to forsake those I hold in my heart. Far from it. Experience has proven to me that those worth their weight in gold tend to have some pretty impressive staying power and right now I've got a few front runners that are pretty much straight money.

Where I'll be and what I'll be doing is a little easier to speculate on. Given my personality and background, there's only so many avenues one can take and be able to sleep at night. With (I hope) a bachelors in hand will I be enjoying the final summer of my undergrad work as I prep for the long haul that is the definition of every juris doctorate program in the State's that's worth it's salt? Will I be in graduate work, honing my public policy skills and training my mind to think like a scholar? Will I forsake academic integrity and legitimacy for the all mighty dollar? Or will I just say screw it all, move to a commune in California and start smoking a lot of marijuana?

I guess, at the end of the day, I'm finally admitting to myself that I don't know where I'm headed. I've got a compass though, and a taser, so I think I should be able to find my way without too many problems. Setbacks I can handle, creepy truckers are an entirely different matter though.

It scares me that I can't say, with absolute certainty, where I'll be in two years, but it's also exhilarating. Fear's one of the biggest driving forces in humanity and, since I'm not lacking in that anymore, I think it's a pretty safe assumption to say that I'll go pretty damned far.

At the very least, this means I don't have to kill $30 on LSAT prep books yet.

Don't make me live for my Friday nights.

Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to the official mascot of the Empire of KatAsh. His name is Jabba and, if you value your limbs, you will show him respect. Notice that menacing stare in his eyes? This is one very very bitter, angry turtle. If you got hit by a semi you'd be a little touchy too. While in the Banks (just shy of Nags Head), Kat, an incredibly helpful local, and I rescued this "little" guy from the side of the road where he lay belly up after getting hit by a truck. I feel it necessary (out of respect for Jabba) to indicate that when I use the term "little" I use it in the sense that an F 16 is smaller than a 757. Also, I'd like you all to recognize the fact that an F 16 has a good deal more fire power than a 757, what with the attached bombs and guns. At any rate, after dragging the turtle out of the pond we'd stupidly put him in with a stick (he latched onto it like a Rottweiler latches onto a steak) we dragged him via plyboard (pictured below) to the local's truck where she transported him to a vet's office to get "fixed up." I can only hope those vets sedated him properly. Otherwise there is no doubt in my mind that he'd retaliate. And by retaliate I do in fact mean mutually assured destruction. You'll all be happy to know that they plastered his shell and he's fine, happily released back into the wild, none the worse for the wear.

Jabba, I salute you, and one day, we will meet again. Fates such as ours are sure to be inextricably intertwined.

(Mis)adventures in the General Vicinity of Camp David

Having successfully thwarted a few F 16s, there was just enough time to teach Ash a quick course in aerodynamics...so that she could avoid flying the small plane straight into a nearby ski resort

Camp David's in there somewhere

Emittsburg, MD
The airfield
The towing plane + Unidentified flying blue thing

Terrorist threat? Possible communist alliances? I think not.
The plane
Dave and I

Champagne - July for Kings

...I'm going to sum up the rest of my summer. Oddly enough, it hasn't felt like summer's really begun until about 5 minutes ago when I read Kat's journal and realized, hey, it's just about time I get started on that whole productivity thing.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we?

May 22-June 7: Lived la vie de hobo in Avon and DC
June 8-June 12: Entertainted Kat in Penn
June 12: Received most unexpected call ever. Still don't know what to do with that.
June 13: Removal of wisdom tooth (singular).
June 13-15: CRACKED OUT AS ALL HELL.
June 16-July 3: Relaxing, working on Red Line, spending time w/ people from Penn
July 4-July 5: FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR FEAR
July 6-July 10: ADAM!
July 11-July 20: Returning to Penn
July 20-July 24: Tennessee
July 25-July ??: DC to work for les Wackadoos and live la vie de hobo once again.
Early August: To AVON
Mid August: Penn to pack, participate in the ungodly event known as the Fuller/Fullen-Kope(ki) Family Reunion and say g'bye to family and friends
Late August: Return to the city as a college junior

Goals for Penn:
-Spend time w/ friends
-RED LINE
-Get my back and head straightened out
-Raquetball, tennis and everything in between (which, granted, isn't very much)
-Learn how to fly a plane (hell yeah)
-Become proficient at sailing (and by that what I mean is tip the catamaran)

Once the vicodin has worn off and I can think a little more clearly, I think I'll be tempted to say it's not shaping up to be such a bad summer after all.

Not gonna lie...I really miss Durkheim right now...

Just so you're all aware and can stop fretting and worrying horribly over my condition and whereabouts, I am alive, well and currently taking up residence on a futon in van Ness. We left the beach a bit early and headed up to the city for a few days of "hanging out" w/ friends (and by "hanging out" I do in fact mean consuming excessive amounts of alcohol...except no, not at all) and working for les Wackadoos. I'll be back in Pennsylvania for a stint (god knows how long) on Thursday (6.8) and will be available for hanging out sometime after that.

These past weeks have been filled with everything from relaxation to Star Wars characters manifested in animal form to rats with wings. A very long and tedious entry to follow this one, perhaps sometime after it's all sunk in and I can officially stop thinking did that really happen?

Exactly one month from today I will be in Rhode Island with M. l'Adam, and we all know how very special that will be. I swear to god if the TSA makes me miss my flight there will be hell to pay. And by hell what I mean is approximately one year of college tuitition.

Now just to give y'all a tiny preview of my life since May 22...let me just say that during my time away from the great commonwealth of Pennsylvania I managed to shoot my boss (an ex-MARINE) in the shoulder.

Adieu