"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." Theodore Roosevelt

Monday, August 26, 2013

New link for new blog below!

http://cranmede.tumblr.com 

Don't worry. Tabula Rasa isn't going anywhere!
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Thumbin' my way into North Carolina

Today was the first Monday of the summer that I did not have to go into work. I rolled out of bed around ten, stuffed my face with Publix-brand cheerios, and sat myself on the foot of my bed to begin the mental preparation for this last week in Huntsville. I am spending this week prepping for my big move as I follow the words of, what has become a mantra for my generation, "Wagon Wheel":
Headed down south 
to the land of the pine
I was thumbin' my way into North Carolina
Starin' up the road
I pray to God I see headlights.

That's right, I am finally on my way out! This time next week I will be on the final leg of the 9.5 hour drive from these azure Appalachian foothills to the majestic beauty found in the blue ridge mountains of North Carolina. As I sit on the foot of my bed, which is covered with a somewhat endearing/ somewhat annoying coat of Samson fur, and I look around the bedroom I have grown up in and the boxes filling it I feel nothing but excited joy as I think about the next step. The next step is, undoubtably, forward. 

As I pack up the past 22 years into boxes and heave them into either the attic, a trash bag, or one of the piles that are sprouting from my carpet ("I will need this in NC" and "I might need this ...one day" and "This meant a lot to the 14 year old version of me") I realize just how much I have accumulated in my life. I've found old journals, old love letters and Valentine presents, old ticket stubs from the Hollywood 18 Harry Potter Premiers, a piece of road from Biloxi, MS I scavenged from Hurricane Katrina relief, my old scripts from high school plays, Artemis Fowl books, Pokemon cards, and an old story I work entitled "Why the Sun could Not love the Moon." So many memories are packed into this green square of a room and I am who I am today because of them. If you know me, or if you have ever ridden in my car, you know I am a packrat. I do it for the memories. Memories are fuel for stories, emotions, and life. So, as I sit in a haphazard "clean" room, synonymous to what many patients on "Hoarders" may habituate ink, packing up my memories I want to say thank you. 

Thank you all who have loved me well over the years. Thank you all for the good memories. They have been beautiful and full of cricket chirps and stars and Goldfish crackers. I want to say thank you to those who have challenged me, to those who have spurned me, and to those who have given me the metaphorical (or literal) biting of the thumb. I want to thank my erroneous enemies equally as much as my faithful friends. It is because of the challenges and the love that I am ready to tackle the next stage of life as a "Post-grad" human, being.

The Lord is calling me to North Carolina and I am ready to go. I am excited to meet him there and am expectant. I am expectant of much, fearful of a little, and eager for adventure. I will blog more this week and will be posting the link to my blog that will be specifically intended for my time pursuing my masters degree. [I'm taking suggestions for witty names]. 

Until then,
Cary
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