Speak friend and enter.

So, sometimes I think too much. In fact, times when I'm thinking too much include a) whenever I'm talking to anyone I haven't known for years, b) every night, c) whenever I'm not concentrating on something else d) when I'm breathing. This is something thats on my mind.

So in many ways I'm a pretty weird guy. I love to play with people, poke them, squeeze them, call them George, play fight with them, etc. I meow randomly, have a lot of weird thoughts about weird things. I think there is a song for everything (there is), and remember the strangest book and movie quotes for no apparent reason. Love playing word games, which is sometimes annoying I think.

Anyway, the point is, that I hope people realize that beneath all the play, the modivation is a great deal of care. I hope thats not buried too deep for people to see.

I guess its seems kinda out of character for me to worry about what others think about me... but it isn't really, there is a lot more going on under the surface than meows and fake stabbing. Thats true of 'most everyone. When it comes down to it I'm just kinda fickle I guess, I want the people who like me to like me more, and those who don't, I don't particularly care about.

I'm really pretty soft on the inside (no, I don't mean in the stab/hack/squish sense) I hate seeing people in pain, don't like excessive gore, can't watch chick flicks because they depress the hell out of me.... I dunno, I was hoping I would turn out to be one of the "strong silent types" but things just didn't work out that way. I'm just some kinda goof who cares too much and shows too little.

Good. You know your music. You should be able to
work at Championship Vinyl with Rob, Dick and
Barry


Do You Know Your Music (Sorry MTV Generation I Doubt You Can Handle This One)
brought to you by Quizilla

You are a human shadow. If a loved one needs you,
you are always right at his or her heels! Your
deep social connection with human beings
produces your qualities of genuine caring and
charisma. However, at times you are naive to
the true nature of your loved ones. Remember
that humans' gift of free will does not always
lead them in wise directions. But your essence
of love and friendship represent the other
precious gifts of humanity. Overall you are a
strikingly valuable and innocent being who has
a lot to give.(please rate my quiz cuz it took
me for freaking ever to create)


What Kind of Shadow Are You? (with gorgeous pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

Purdy acurate I guess, but not completely. I'm more of a human shadow with one foot in the grave(stone shadow). :-p

Papers suck, so does stress.

In honor of St. Patty's day, lyrics to some of my favorite irish songs.

MOUNTAIN DEW

Let grasses grow and waters flow in a free and easy way
But give me enough of the fine ould stuff that's made near Galway Bay
And policemen all from Donegal, Sligo and Leitrim too
We'll give them the slip and we'll take a sip of the real old mountain dew

Chorus:
Hi-the-diddley-I-dill-dum, diddley-doodle-I-dill-um, diddley- doo-ri-diddley-di-day
Hi-the-diddley-I-dill-um, diddley-doo-dill-I-dill-um, diddley- doo-ri-diddley-di-day

At the foot of the hill, there's a neat little still, with the smoke curling up to the sky
By the smoke and the smell, you can painly tell, that there's poteen brewing nearby
For it fills the air with odour rare and betwixt both me and you
When home you stroll, you can take a bowl or a bucket of the mountain dew

Chorus

Now learned men who use the pen, have wrote your praises high
That sweet poteen from Ireland green, distilled from wheat and rye
Throw away your pills, it will cure all ills of pagan, christian or jew
Take off you coat and grease your throat with the real old mountain dew


1. In Dublin's fair city,
Where girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she pushed her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Chorus:
Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

2. Now she was a fishmonger,
And sure twas no wonder,
For so were her mother and father before,
And they each wheeled their barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!
Chorus:

3. She died of a fever,
And no one could save her,
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone.
Now her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!
Chorus:


This one isn't exactly irish I don't think, but the copy I have is sung by an irish band.

Lily the Pink

Now here's the story--a little bit gory
A little bit happy--a little bit sad--
Lily the Pink and her medicinal compound
And how it drove her to the bad.

Ebenezer thought he was Julius Caesar
And so they put him in a home
And then they gave him medicinal compound
And now he's Emperor of Rome.

CHORUS
We'll drink a drink a drink
To Lily the Pink the Pink the Pink
The saviour of the human race
For she invented medicinal compound
Most efficacious in every way.

Ripley Twinger, the opera singer,
Would take a glass to save his straining neck
He rubbed his tonsils with medicinal compound
Now is it him or memorex?

Johnny Hammer had a t-t-terrible stammer
He could hardly s-s-say a word
And so they g-g-gave him medicinal compound
Now he's s-s-seen but never heard. CHORUS

Uncle Paul, he was very small, he
Was the shortest man in town
He rubbed his body with medicinal compound
Now he weighs only half a pound.

Lily died and went up to heaven
All the church bells, they did ring.
She took with her medicinal compound;
Hark the Herald Angels sing.



Christmas In Killarney


The holly green, the ivy green
The prettiest picture you've ever seen
Is Christmas in Killarney
With all of the folks at home

It's nice, you know, to kiss your beau
While cuddling under the mistletoe
And Santa Claus you know, of course
Is one of the boys from home

The door is always open
The neighbors pay a call
And Father John before he's gone
Will bless the house and all

How grand it feels to click your heels
And join in the fun of the jigs and reels
I'm handing you no blarney
The likes you've never known
Is Christmas in Killarney
With all of the folks at home



Belle of Belfast City

Tell my ma when I go home,
The boys won't leave the girls alone,
They pulled my hair and stole my comb,
But that's all right 'till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Belfast city,
She is courting, one two three
Please won't you tell me who is she?

Albert Mooney says he loves her,
All the boys are fighting for her,
Knock on the door and they ring the bell
Oh my true love, are you well?
Here she comes, as white as snow,
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
Old Johnny Mary she says she'll die
If she doesn't get the boy with the roving eye.

Tell my ma when I go home,
The boys won't leave the girls alone,
They pulled my hair and stole my comb,
But that's all right 'till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the belle of Belfast city,
She is courting, one two three
Please won't you tell me who is she?

Let the wind and the rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come tumbling from the sky
She's as nice as apple pie
She'll get her own boy, by and by
When she gets a lad of her own,
She won't tell her ma 'till she comes home,
Let the boys stay as they will,
For it's Albert Mooney she loves still.



And last but not least

Finnegan's Wake

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irish, mighty odd;
He had a brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love of the whiskey he was born
And to help him on with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.

Chorus:
Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!

2. One mornin' Tim was feelin' full
His head was heavy which made him shake;
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed,
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head.
Chorus:

3. His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,
First they brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch.
Biddy O'Brien began to bawl
"Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?
"O Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?"
"Arragh, hold your gob" said Paddy McGhee!
Chorus:

4. Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job
"O Biddy," says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy she gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawlin' on the floor.
And then the war did soon engage
'Twas woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began.
Chorus:

5. Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him,
It missed, and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim!
The corpse revives! See how he raises!
Timothy rising from the bed,
Says,"Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
Thanum an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower,
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day,
Nothing gold can stay.
- Robert Frost

So much junk going on right now, senior design is moving ahead rapidly, and the project seems to be going well. Work/research is going ok I guess, except the grad student I'm working with/for came in today and was like "while you're not doing anything (I'm waiting on parts to come in so I can continue research) do all my work for me" So I'm going to do a little till my stuff comes in then completely ignore him, we don't nessicarily see eye to eye. Went to the job fair and handed out some resumes, dunno if anything is going to come of it, and I need to follow up on some companies. Chances of getting a job in atlanta/marietta are looking very slim, maybe God has somewhere else he wants me to be, or maybe I just need to "be still, and know that He is God". Thats about all I guess... my knees/shins don't hurt today after ultimate, maybe this "stretching" is a good thing.

-Paul

"Love ceases to be a demon only when he ceases to be a god; which of course can be re-stated in the form 'begins to be a demon the moment he begins to be a god.' This balance seems to me an indispensable safeguard. If we ignore it, the truth that God is love may slyly come to mean for us the converse, that love is God."

The Four Loves