I went to church today; I haven't been in a while. A boy sat in front of me with a coloring book and candy. Watching him I felt discontent—his parents must be indifferent or uncaring, I thought. They'd given him a fancy modern coloring book with special paper and markers. It was impossible for him to color beyond the lines within the pictures. What a horrible thing, a boy who can't express himself (in church no less, another story). If he had wanted to write his name or add something from his imagination to the page he would've been out of luck. My mind conceived a new generation with automated everything. That exaggeration may be baseless, but it's worth an alarm. Is the development of his classification and concept skills going to be impeded? I suddenly hear Bob Dylan's voice singing about Pavlov's dog.

Clarence Ray Allen became the second oldest inmate to be executed since capital punishment resumed in 1976. He was put to death minutes after his 76th birthday.

35 year old Igor Namyatov had surgery to be relieved of what was originally diagnosed as a tumor, but was found to be the embryo of his unborn twin brother.

Scientists may have found Ireland's most fertile male, with more than 3 million men worldwide among his offspring.

An 18th-century reproduction of a map supposedly dated from 1418 may help prove the claim that China beat Columbus.

Timing is Everything, a gallery of explosions.

1779 painting of George Washington expected to fetch $10 million or more when it is auctioned this Saturday.

Remember the lady who found a finger in her bowl of chili last March? She and her husband were sentenced to nine years in prison for it.

"But for now, every time you make a cell phone call, you'll continue to pay for a war fought more than 107 years ago."

Justin called me today. He asked if Lindsey and I would like to see Underworld: Evolution. I never saw Underworld, but Lindsey did and said that it was OK. I liked 'Evolution' (6/10). When younger, I would dismiss movies like this as useless and unworthy of attention. But, I've come to realize that everything is valid in some way. Even if completely stupid and seemingly worthless, such as Kevin Federline, St. Valentine's Day, and astrology, things still have value as social evidence or device, even if they'll eventually remain to posterity only as unwanted oddities—leftovers of societal evolution. A bit harsh. Every movie has a story that was deemed worthy by someone, even if written only to count box office numbers. They still affect all viewers through emotional, cognitive, and sensory experience. So, even though I'd like to erase lots of things, I can't, so I have to add them into this crazy equation of which we're all variables. I guess it depends on the constants with which you set yourself. I'm such a weirdo.

I need to stop analyzing my thoughts for you with these entries and just tell that I thought the movie wasn't bad. ...If you need some good old-fashioned sex and violence.

The semester began this past Wednesday. I'm in several upper-level history classes, working on the Pfeiffer Review, and playing golf (I know). 15 books, $575, 4000 pages. I'm thinking of rearranging my schedule. I've been in college for over 5 years now, and I'm working and planning a wedding. I want a lighter load this time around. It should be settled by mid-Monday.

"...where the females are promiscuous, the males boasting the largest testicles also had the smallest brains. Conversely, where the females were faithful, the males had smaller testes and larger brains." A study on bats and the relationship between sexual prowess and brain size. Some species "make an evolutionary trade-off between intelligence and sexual prowess."

I mended my schedule, as I said I would. I'm now double majoring—History and Social Studies. The Social Studies major differs from History because it combines economics, geography, sociology, and psychology with the courses required for certification, in addition to history classes. I dropped an online course and Twentieth Century Europe, but I'll now also work on The Falcon's Eye, our school paper.

Lindsey and I are to look at a house in Oakboro this weekend. It's exciting to do things like this because it really hits me: in less than four months we'll be on our own. Our house, our payments, our silence, our unbroken times. It's going to be hard but good.

Dooce's newest entry is definitely worth a link.

Beginning in 2007, high school kids in Western Australia won't be wearing denim to class because it's linked with good times.

I have been looking all over the balding countryside and even the areas of urban attempt for a house to rent. The first was the smaller end of a duplex, the connecting door of which wouldn't conceal my devil worship. Lindsey and I drove around to some other places after that. We happened upon a white house overlooking water with a large deck and a wall of windows. It was a place you might picture keeping me—something about it pulled on me, maybe its modesty. I peered into the living room, imagining sunny Saturday afternoons and crisp autumn nights. Family Fourth of July cookouts with stretched little girls planting their nostrils on the wooden railing, looking toward symmetrical splashes of color. Maybe the neighborhood dog, curious without a tail, will stop by and wait for an accident.

Yeah, my hopes are high, but probability isn't with me on this one. That's fine because I know we'll find a nice place. And nearly anywhere with a person you love is better than most places without them. I've been ready to move out of here for a while.