Does Pedro sleep? No, no he does not.

Around 4 am this morning we crossed the Mason -Dixon after having been in the Deep South for slightly over a week. Our first stop was the beaches of South Carolina where we stayed in the condo pictured below which I named (quite aptly) the Giant Condo of Doom.
Myrtle Beach was pretty much a pathetic, soul sucking tourist trap, but I got a nice tan and got to relax a bit. Somewhere during the course of our stay, my parents purchased a time share in Florida. I'm still not entirely sure how this happened, truth be told. They just came home one morning (I had taken the opportunity to nap on the top deck) and informed me of their purchase. If you're noticing a mildly stoic tone in my voice, it's because I'm still shell shocked. I'd like to point out that this purchase happened approximately last Tuesday. Who's up for Florida sometime around Christmas, 'cus I'm damn well not checking that thing out by myself for the first time.

So yeah...Myrtle Beach...yeah...words really can't describe that place so I'm not even going to try. However; I would like to point out that our GCoD was located on a golf resort and (oddly enough) very close to some marshy area. So one day I was wandering around outside , chatting on my phone, when suddenly the guy next door starts screaming "Blonde girl on the phone! DON'T TAKE ANOTHER STEP FORWARD! DON'T GO DOWN THOSE STAIRS!" Confused, I looked out slightly over the ledge I was standing on and, focusing intently, was able to make out a slithering shape blending into the drying grass. Pictured below is a pretty close representation of what I saw. Ladies and gentlemen, please let me introduce you to Agkistrodon piscivorus more commonly known as the Cottonmouth. For those of you unfamiliar with snakes and other creatures of death, it's one of the deadliest snakes in North America. And it was about 6" away from eating my foot. South Carolina was, by no means, a bad trip. On the contrary, aside from the moment when I was nearly poisoned to death I had a great time and I'm truly glad I went. But if you think that's the end of my tale, you clearly have no concept of my histrionic tendencies...or god's wrath on me.

On approximately Wednesday we lit out for Tennessee, because my dad hearts the mountains like whoa and because we're expected at the Gathering of Rednecks that is to take place a few days later. I drove most of the way on the Strom Thurmond Freeway cackling maniacally at signs that describe Pedro's insomnia as well as entire counties called Waccamaw. Somewhere in North Carolina, my dad finally wrenched the wheel out of my hands and steered us through the Great Smoky Mountains Nat'l Park. NOTICE THE PRETTY!! NOTICE IT!
Tennessee was great, everything I've come to expect from visits down there. One of the high points of the trip was learning a lot about my family and solving The Great Mystery of Ash's Heritage. To date I am:

.5 Scottish (obviously)
.25 Native American (way more than I anticipated...rock on)
.25 Dutch. Apparently my grandpa was Dutch. Who the hell ever saw that one coming.

Like I said, the trip and the party was a huge success, everyone got pretty damn drunk on everything from Bourbon to Allegrini to moonshine. Dion sang that god forsaken Statue of Liberty song (dedicated to me) while occasionally taking swigs from his hip flask. I personally opted for half shots of the XXX all night with my cousin and learned...well...you get good and drunk but it's an entirely different kind of drunk. The only way I can describe it is a "batshit crazy" kind of drunk. Let's just put it this way...I finally passed out around 1am, and some of the stronger hillbillies were still going strong. Sidenote: The party started at 12pm and everyone was drinking by 3. A family friend (Charlie) came 'round to check on me and my cousin Amanda around 2:30am and, apparently (as I have no recollection of this) I sat up (very wobbily) said (in a perfect southern accent) "YOU AIN'T GOIN' KILL ME!!" and punched him with a hard left in the jaw. Yeah...like I said, batshit crazy.

Another example of the debauchery is pictured below. I'd like to point out that these women are blood relatives of mine, in their 40s-50s and, yes, your eyes deceive you not, wearing my bras on their heads. They were stone cold sober. Things like this are common at Kope(ki)-Fuller/n gatherings. Don't you wish your family was as cool as mine? Probably not, no one should ever have to see that.

The real creme de la creme of the trip was my encounter with yet another deadly creature. This time, it was not a cottonmouth, but rather his close cousin, the copperhead. This one would have struck out and hit my knee if my cousin Dion hadn't tackled me to get me out of the way. I'd like to point out that it was not my incompetance that brought all these deadly snakes into my presense this fateful trip, I'm just absolutely convinced that god flies the Rebel, drives a pick up and still holds a grudge against Sherman for the whole buring down Atlanta bit. My damn family's from the South though, so you think I'd catch a break. But no. Rest in peace, deep South, for I am so done with you.

Look this way, will you marry me?

Well, I'm back from Rhode Island. Suffice it to say I had a magnificient time. At some point or other I may give details and I'll certainly post pictures sometime this week, but until then I've decided to do one of those current loves/hates lists.

Love

+Black Horse and the Cherry Tree (if you can figure out why the second stanza of this song reminds me of DC you'll win a prize)

+Greg Maguire

+Nick Hornby

+Red Hot Chili Peppers (momentarily Dani California)

+Nutella on graham crackers

+Applesauce

+Supreme Court (specifically the recent Gitmo and DNA exoneration decisions)

+Russian politics (Putin does, in fact, hunt wolves. You don't get more awesome than that)

+Gargoyles (infant and non infant...real and non real)

Hate

-Hips Don't Lie (I think I liked this song the first 20 times I heard it. 21 just pushed me over the edge)

-My cell ringers

-UN resolutions (slowly, the word resolution is stripped of any connotation of conviction)

-Westphalian order (That's right...I somehow hate the UN and Westphalian order simultaneously...your multitudes don't have ANYTHING on mine)

-feathered hats

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