Okay, the title is cheesy, but I'm a cheesy guy, so it's all right.

Eight semester hours of science are required for my major. A year ago I had the choice of biology or chemistry, and so like a person with any sense would do, I chose chemistry. I didn't like chemistry in high school and I gave up on it after a while like a true moron. That was eight years ago. I wanted to give it another go and treat it properly. I'm glad I did.

On the first night in August, in walked a man resembling a well-groomed Einstein. He looked like a pushover to some—a nice, old teacher who would turn 78-years-old the next month. The class soon found out that this man, Perry Weston, was more than they had bargained for. Throughout the following ten months Dr. Weston weaved a brief biography of himself by treating us with interesting stories of his life. We learned of his trips to Africa and encounters with "medicinal" roots, JuJu (bad or good, but usually bad), native women selling beads (and the old woman acting as a guide on the hill), as well as his time in Europe and others. He told of the state of humankind, his predictions for the future, as well as life in the past. Oh, we learned a great deal of chemistry as well. Dr. Weston is an excellent teacher and an all around great guy. I heard students say that they don't care for him or his style of teaching. But if one honestly tries to learn from him or even gives him a chance to connect in any way, one will learn something, whether it be academic or not.

Tonight was the last night of chemistry. I finished the exam, which was only nine pages—short compared to our usual tests—and hung around for a while, long after everyone else had left. Dr. Weston probably didn't realize it, but I did this several times. I would stay after just to talk with him for a few minutes about things unrelated to chemistry. We spoke of NCAA basketball, my future, and other things. I did this because he's truly a wise man; because his words all have substance, not just when he tries to express something important. I also did it because I began to think of Dr. Weston as a friend. Tonight was a sad night for me—not only for that reason, but I also befriended several of my fellow students, and I know I'll probably never see them again. If any of you, including Dr. Weston, happen to find my site and read this, feel free to contact me in some way, let me know how things are.

Anyway, I realize that I'm an over-emotional person and that I'm far too sentimental and nostalgic, but that's the way I've always been. I doubt I'll ever change. If I could only say that for so many other things.

Starting today I'm a professional Web Designer. I'm creating a new site for Stanly Community College (not the main site, another one for a specific department). I work 8-1. I'm trying to resume tutoring, also. That would be ten-hour days, but I need to save some money if I'm getting married in a year.

I've been a fan of Star Wars since I was very small. It's one of the first movies I actually remember seeing. My parents and uncle James and aunt Cynthia went to see Return of the Jedi in theaters and if their memories serve them appropriately, I was there also. I'm sure this is not what I remember, though. One of my earliest memories is of the one-eyed snakelike creature visited by Luke and company in the trash compactor in A New Hope. Coincidentally, this was first viewed at James' house. Anyway, I like Star Wars. I rented the movies from JB Video when I was little; bought the figures when they were released in 1995; I saw the special editions in theaters in 1997; and sorted mixed emotions after seeing The Phantom Menace in 1999.

I enjoyed Attack of the Clones more than 'Phantom Menace', but I still rolled my eyes more than I wanted (mainly at C3PO's mishaps). Neither seem to have the feel or appeal of the originial trilogy to me. This is easily interpreted: I grew up with Han and Chewie. If six years ago I was expecting a new movie to have the same impact upon me as those which intertwined through all my growths, then I hoped too much. I did. When Jason and I went to see The Phantom Menace, I wanted Hoth battles and Vader versus Luke—emotional, explosive ladders I climbed at times throughout my early youth. I hear Star Wars fans who knew the original trilogy before Episode I speak with hateful voices of how George Lucas thwarted their return to boyhood with horrible writing, directing, casting, and so on. I sort of felt this way in 1999, but now I realize why we don't feel the same about the first three Episodes. If Episodes VII, VIII, and IX are made (with the original actors, dear Lord, please allow) a few years from now, the children of today who are growing up with Episodes I, II, and III may look with the same feelings upon those. Even if they were to be superior in plot and character, they would not be as magical to those in favor of the original trilogy. Revenge of the Sith was pretty good (7/10), but even if it had been better than Episodes IV, V, and VI combined, it would still mean less to me, or "us."

Introspections aside, Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith is pleasing in that it ties together the remaining five. I disallowed myself from knowing very much about this new movie; I had only seen the first trailer and one picture on the Internet. Justin spoiled Darth Maul's death in Episode I, and I wanted nothing like that to occur for this final film, which is likely the last. Still, I had a pretty good idea of what might happen and I was right with a lot of my guesses.

The dialogue was cruddy in many spots and certain actors were subpar. Chewbacca's appearance was questionable and perhaps unnecessary. Boba Fett was absent. The Jedi's apparent selective "force consciousness" (id est, their ability to feel a person's sadness when they're 1,500,000 miles away but not sensing a mammoth conspiracy) was disappointing. Palpatine's makeup and 'No's should've been redone. The plot was twisted around all over the place in such a way that it was unbelievable; there was no way the actors in this movie could hold it together, either. I'm mad at Hayden Christensen because of his horrible acting. I'm mad at George Lucas for writing such a weak script. This movie thrived on character development at its core, yet the characters were horribly portrayed. Believe it or not, I tried to be lenient and forgiving while watching. It's difficult because Star Wars was part of my childhood. I just tried to remember the things above and enjoy the movie. I know I've been harsh, but I did enjoy it. Overall though, regardless of what I said in the preceding paragraphs, I'm disappoited with the newest movies. The excitement and anticipation I had six or seven years ago was not fulfilled.

For me the best scene in the movie was near the beginning, when Anakin fought Dooku. I liked this part the most because it reminded me of when Luke fought Darth Vader in Return of the Jedi (the music that plays during that scene is great). It gave me a feeling similar to what the old movies produce. I'm sure the similarities were intentional: Palpatine sitting in a large chair in the same manner with Anakin in all black, looking a lot like Luke, and through large windows we see in the distance ships battling. Well, I let it work for me.

If only I could've seen A New Hope when it was released in 1977. I can't imagine how that must've been. I was able to see the original movies in their reformulated Special Edition forms in theaters in 1997, but I know it's not the same. Still, it was pretty exciting. Before Revenge of the Sith began I had an incredible feeling much like that. It was a combination of simply seeing a Star Wars movie and knowing that millions of others, old and young alike, were having the same experience. It's only a movie, I told myself, as if that would work. Lindsey and I were first in line. People were trying to cut in front of us, but when it was apparent that tickets were about to be torn I made sure no one pushed ahead of us. We took our seats quickly as people flooded in. The room was electric for twenty minutes in darkness with two lone lightsabers waving in the front. I felt like a kid and I couldn't be still. It was a new Star Wars, perhaps the last, and I was about to see it. It felt like Christmas Eve and Halloween rolled into one. It was a great feeling.

After the movie I found myself sad. It's over (probably) and it didn't get the ending it needed. That's it. But, I think the real reason I'm sad is that I'm no longer a child. Yeah, that old, universal problem. These are children's movies, and I'm not a child. Perhaps the newest movies aren't as bad as I think; if I were thirteen again I might like them as much as I liked the old ones. Anyway, it's not 1995 and I'm not thirteen. Age isn't actually the problem. I'm twenty-three now, but physically and otherwise I feel young, say around fifteen. The trouble is that circumstances have changed. When I was younger, so was everyone else. I still had four grandparents. I still had few responsibilities that held any real significance for myself or others. I still had many friends, and we still did things. Now, I've been out of high school for almost exactly five years. Everyone is gone except a few. The children of my youth are getting married. I have one grandparent and my parents are older. My brother is no longer five-years-old. He no longer watches and mimics what I do; I'm lucky if he cares. In short, obviously, I miss the past. I haven't changed all that much, but my environment has. I miss family cookouts from the late 1980s. I miss my friends. I miss talking about Star Wars and X-men with KoRn-shirt-wearing Taylor and a chubby, shy Justin. I miss Andrew and the crazy mental connection we had for such a long time, and all the silly jokes and insights we held. I miss Keri nearly more than any of them for some reason. I've known my cousins and Taylor for my whole life, literally, but I've only known Keri for about nine or ten years. She's a very special person to me. I hope things are all right in her life.

Today as I was walking from one job to the other, I passed my old chemistry lab. The door was open, and I heard glass tapping glass and knew Dr. Weston was in there. He was wearing a grayish button-up shirt with the collar open. It looked strange as he only wore dress shirts and ties to class. We greeted each other warmly, shaking hands and asking how the other was. I told him about my jobs and he told me of his summer so far. Then, as I was leaving he asked if I was interested in art in any way. I told him I draw from time to time. He motioned me over to the middle of the black workstations. On the end he had a bag and several papers. He went on to show me some samples of his paintings and drawings. He is very good. He told me of his small exhibit in Concord, on Iforgotthename Blvd, past the ice cream shop. He attends a class every Tuesday morning. "It's for old people," he jokingly said. He showed me several samples of paintings of flowers, and a few of landscapes and things. I was sure to let him know I want to buy one. He told me that he'll bring a bunch up to the school sometime in June or July. He said also that he won't charge me the full price. I was so happy to see him. It was as if my fears of never seeing him again were replaced. I was happy after that. The rest of the day was good. I went home and talked to Lindsey some. The sunset was very good and I took several pictures. I was talking to Lindsey while I slowly walked out among the weeds in the lake.

• Attend Josh and Jodie's wedding
• See Bob Dylan & Willie Nelson on June 12
• Drive to Yorktown for a weekend in July with my family and Lindsey's
• The Dillards in July
• Go to Myrtle Beach with the my family and James'
• Work
• Find Gary
• Try to make some progress with my writing projects
• Sleep (something I didn't get to do this school year)
• Check out Cinderalla Man, The Island, War of the Worlds, Land of the Dead, and Red Eye
• Finish that stack of books and sort through those piles of paper
• Study up on XML, Movable Type, and other Web-related things
• Road trip to D.C.?