In my college experience, I had the option of taking either Biology or Chemistry. As any sane person would, I chose chemistry. I was expecting math and symbols and beakers—which I received in great quantity—but I got something of a surprise. My teacher was Dr. Perry L. Weston, a goofy man of 78 at the time. Dr. Weston turned out to be one of the best teachers I ever had. He was fun, sharp, and kind. From this man I learned a lot about the universe, chemically and otherwise.

He lived a very interesting life, which he shared every so often during class when students became tired of the elements. Perry had been all over the world, met people of every rank, and had more talent and wisdom than I ever hope to achieve.

Fortunately, I take my cell phone everywhere.

And, just for the heck of it, one of me taken in the middle of a lab. I promise that I was happier than it appears.

I would usually stay after class to speak with Dr. Weston. We would talk about everything: NCAA basketball, love, Africa, his painting and my photography. He once brought a bunch of his work at my request for me to look over. Luckily, one of his original paintings hangs over the mantel of my living room.

The last time I saw Dr. Weston was December of 2005. I bumped into him outside of Stanly Community College. He wished me a merry Christmas. Since then I have always wanted to visit him. "I really need to go speak with him again. Take my camera and get a picture with him."

But life became too busy. I haven't been to see him.

The day before yesterday, I was searching for his information online because I could not find the paper on which he'd written his address and phone number, and who knows where our phone book is? I was going to call him and ask if he would mind being a reference. I knew the answer would be yes, as he said two years ago that he would be glad to do such a thing if I ever needed it, but I just wanted to speak with him.

Dr. Weston had lots of faith in me. He would always encourage me. No matter how many of his tests I aced, he could sense that I was completely devoid of any confidence. "Brian you're going to be a great teacher. I know how smart you are. You gotta have more faith." He would say things similar to that.

Anyway, as I browsed my search results, I fell onto this, like a spike into my chest. I read:

Perry Weston, 80, of Concord died December 10, 2006 of complications from an aneurysm. “Doc” was a man who enthusiastically enjoyed his life.

Perry was born and raised in Illinois. He received his undergraduate degree from Purdue University and went on to earn his PhD from the University of Utah. He worked as a metallurgist, chemist and engineer in the steel industry. Midlife, he found a new calling as a college professor teaching students that they could conquer chemistry and math. He loved to sing in the choir and when he sang children would look around to see who was singing so exuberantly. He pursued his painting and drawing, using his analytical eye to capture the essence of the natural world.

Those who knew Perry would describe him as an unforgettable character. He was a smart, wonderful and cantankerous husband, father and grandfather who had a great run, and will be sorely missed.

Perry is survived by his wife, Carol, their children Craig, Karen and Paula and grandchildren Owen, Gus and Sophie, and his sister Shirley.

I wept and sobbed and cried all morning.

I didn't know him well enough. I should have visited. I wanted to know him better. I want to remember him better. I want to tell his wife what her husband did for me, though I knew him too little.

The next day I wrote an e-mail to Jennie Tomlin, an artist and part of the Cabarrus County Arts Guild. She had known Dr. Weston, had worked with him in a sort of art club for the last twelve years. I told her about my sorrow and regret, and what Perry had meant to me. She returned:

I am so pleased that you shared this message with me, and I will pass it along to his wife, who is also a dear friend of mine. I will give her your email and I am sure she would want to respond to you.

Perry was a wonderful friend and was a student of mine for 12 years. He and his wife shared many happy times and memories together, and I think he was a wonderful painter. I am grateful that I spend several hours with him in the hospital on the Sunday morning before he died that evening. He was such a great and caring person as I am aware that you know. I , several years ago, had the misfortune of tearing some ligaments and muscles loose from the bone in my hip area and was to be flat on my back for about 4 weeks. Perry walked in one day with the oddest looking contraption I had ever seen and it turned out to be an easel that he had rigged and built for me so that I could paint while lying flat in the bed!!! That is true friendship!

Thank you so much for sharing your feelings and thoughts. You have made my day. I am sure that some of Perry will be with you all of your days as he will with mine.

I can't imagine all the people Dr. Weston touched during his long life. If I could be so affected knowing him for only two years, I can't guess, either, about his family.

Dr. Weston was my friend. I miss him. I can only wish, wish, wish now that I had went to see him. I'm trying to be grateful that I was able to know him and forget the things I didn't do.

As for my photography, inspiration and motivation have been very absent the past month or more, and I hadn't touched my camera until yesterday morning. I had to get out and do something that would make me feel better. There was more to it than that, though, I guess. I had thought about Dr. Weston and his perception of life and the world—even now I find inspiration in my memories of him.

The morning offered up some tranquil scenes at Morrow Mountain:

Diary entry for October 8, 1993 (age 11):

I had the most terrible day today. First we had to go see some dumb parents talk about an education. Then we had to take a very hard science test. Then we had to watch a stupid video about Social Studies. Then we had to do math which I didn't understand. Then I had a terrible lunch. But one good thing that happened is we had our first newspaper staff meeting.

Whew! Glad those days are over.

My monitor went out in January. I've lived with a very old fifteen-inch Sampo since then. I finally broke down and ordered a Dell seventeen-inch flat panel LCD monitor. The quality is amazing. I'm able to edit my photos again, which is an ineffable joy. Also, it arrived in less than forty-eight hours after I hit the Submit Order button. I'm very happy with it.

But they always are. I just needed a title.

My time however, has been dominated by school work. I have 21 books and over 8,000 pages to read this semester. I don't know about you, but for me that's a lot. Plus the tests and five research papers. Right now I'm dedicated to finishing a 30+ page paper about Stanly County during the World War II era. I've learned lots of interesting things and am glad I chose it as my research project. For instance, right here in little ol' Stanly County we have a man who braved the shores of Normandy, a woman who lost her husband on Iwo Jima, a man, Mr. Ferebee, whose brother was on the Enola Gay (the plane that dropped the first atomic bomb—you can see his picture here in the Wikipedia article), and a man who survived the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, which brought the US into WWII.

In the fall of 1941 and July 1942 there were military maneuvers in Stanly and the surrounding area. Hundreds of thousands of troops engaged in mock battles and practiced for their future combat overseas. General Patton was here, driving tanks and commanding missions, buying cokes in the little Red Cross Store a few miles from here. A small, rural county like Stanly contributed so much to the war, not only with military men, but the population as a whole. The mills and plants went all-out in war production. There were metal drives and victory gardens. Stanly County sent about 3,000 men to war. Ninety-one died.

I've learned so much over the past few months. After this semester is over I intend to continue this research, interviewing as many people as I can and digging through archives. I'm a nostalgist, so a project like this is ideal for me. I'm having trouble, though, because I'd like to talk to some African Americans (or anyone not White) and more women. If anyone reads this and knows someone, please let me know.

So, that's what I've been doing, and why I'm not online much. I'm looking forward to graduating, getting back to taking pictures, finding a job, and going to the beach. I miss Myrtle Beach and Nags Head.

That's how far I drove this weekend. My record for a weekend is 1517, when we went to Nags Head the first time.

This entry is going to be a checklist, basically. Hit the Back button now, please.

I picked up Lindsey at Liberty University on Thursday afternoon and we headed for Yorktown. We were on the go throughout our stay, with little downtime, but it was great. On Friday, we picked out new glasses for Lindsey and met with Pastor John. I also had to wait in a very pink, flowery room for about an hour. I had to do the same thing a year ago, but I guess the initial trauma never fully faded. I flipped through the same TIME magazine forty-two times.

Bud drove us to President's Park Saturday morning. It was great for a group of nerds like us (and hey, I can get culture credit for it at Pfeiffer). We were also able to visit with Marni (Lindsey's older cousin), her 9-month-old son Alex, Uncle Wally (Lindsey's grandmother's older brother) and Aunt "Chicken," and, of course, Gammy. Saturday night was spent making and decorating brownies for Stevie's birthday bash to be held the next day (which we wouldn't be able to attend). We crashed at Gammy's Saturday night after taking her back home.

I also bought some swimming trunks for our honeymoon. Forty-six days.

My dad and I were walking at Norwood's park yesterday for a little exercise and conversation. We walked three miles, most of which I thought about Lindsey and our wedding. Within our little park are usually several ducks and other birds. A kingfisher makes the park his home; he's always perched on a few select tree limbs and wires (I saw him swoop down to the water and snag a small fish today). I can't wait for Lindsey and I to have the ability to go walk there whenever we want.

A black car drove by the park covered in toilet paper and dragging cans. I hope they decorate my car like that. I can't wait to drive away with Lindsey.

My bald spot is forming.

Please don't hate me.

It feels so good to get out of bed an hour before I usually do, which is 20 minutes before I need to drive out of here. I can substitute things like eating and making a phone call for franticly throwing the wrong books into my car or cleaning my ears at 75 mph.

I've started playing the harmonica. It's very fun. It makes me feel like a wheezing train. Now I just need to finish mastering the guitar and grow some balls, and I'll complete my plan to become Bob Dylan II.

I've always enjoyed old gospel songs. When I was little, I listened to my grandmother's records, such as those of Roy Acuff and the Louvin Brothers, but especially Charley Pride's "Did You Think to Pray". So some of the first songs I learned are Amazing Grace and I'll Fly Away. I'm a hick, I admit it. But I'm a nice hick, so be friendly.

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.

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.

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.

At the risk of being blackballed, punched, and sodomized, I say: Merry Christmas to everyone!

Lindsey and I will be in Virginia with her family for several days after Christmas. Since I won't be online again until the first week of January, I would like to say something about the 'holiday season'. I near the point of buying no gifts, in addition to my boycott of gluttony. Lately I've felt pressured to buy for others, which completely spoils any pleasure of gift-giving. I think it's better to disassociate presents with Christmas, and focus solely on family, friends, good times, and love. If a holiday is ruined by a lack of material, what's it worth? Nothing can buy time and love, the combination of which makes Christmas special for me.

I don't care what you believe, I hope the rest of December is wonderful for you. Merry Christmas.

Finally! I have the site back up and running. This is the first public update in a quite a while. How are you? A better question would be, is anyone still out there?

This site is in a transitioning state—things are rough through and through, shifting and changing all the time. It's good enough for now, though. In time, things will be polished and perfected. Some pages are absent, as are about 50 older entries, which I'll eventually get around to adding. None of the old comments have been imported but may be brought in later.

It was a tough semester, especially during mid-November burnout. Three more semesters and I'll graduate, again. Right now, however, I'm going to spend a month enjoying Christmas with its cheery accessories, including all of the lights, songs, and, of course, extra quality time with family. Blights, ficticious and valid, will remain ignored for the better. Sit on it, fomenters!

Until Lindsey's 'blog is running again, it is my duty to post whatever she tells me. And we're not even married, yet.

A decision has been made. 4 down, 1263 to go. This is the dress for the bridesmaids, but a different color will be used. They will probably be some other green. The featured lovelies are Laura (left) and Emily. (Click on the image for a larger picture). They've obviously seen the fires of Hell.

While I'm using my own voice again, let me say that exams are awesome, especially when you take three in a twelve-hour period.

By the way, we have also started a wedding journal. You know, for posterity.

Again, I'm thankful that I'm healthy. I have clean water and food; I'm without disease; and have a nice place to live. There's no gunfire around my home other than Mr. Minsey trying to shoot muskrats. I have family and friends, and they'll help me celebrate a wedding in May.

Gig has died, but I'm thankful he was with me for so long. I have a car, a cell phone, and other luxuries when so many throughout the world think of bread and clear water in a one-room shack as high-living. I'm receiving an education (and one in which I can choose what to learn). I live in a rural area; we have heat and air conditioning; and there are hospitals that actually have up-to-date equipment and real, live doctors.

I say these things every now and then to remind myself that I have a good life, especially when compared to most of the world.

Here are some other things for which I'm thankful:

• Green beans
• Lindsey
• Family cookouts and get-togethers in which Papa is still able to participate
• There are people who hold faith and practice religion with intelligence and wisdom
• Those who aren't religious but demonstrate tolerance and understanding because they share the wisdom common to all humanity
• Fall, summer, spring, winter
• Sarcasm, subtlety, and understatement—some of our greatest tools
• The semester is winding down
• Harmonicas, banjos, and bagpipes
• Barnes & Noble gift cards and sales at Borders
• Rain and wind (but also bright, blue Saturdays)
• Bush can't serve another term
• Lindsey
• In-jokes, secrets, and times alone
• Dirt roads and rusty mailboxes
• Beach trips with family
• The selfish merchants and gluttonous colonial leaders who severed us from England.
• Cracker Barrel
• Cameras
• New family and friends given to me by Lindsey
• Lindsey

Lindsey and I drove to Raleigh last night to watch Brian Regan perform. Brian is a very funny, underappreciated stand-up comic who bases his material on observational humor. He's very smart and wacky, and makes me laugh more than just about anyone.

I bought tickets in June, so we had fairly good seats—6th row, smack in the middle. The Meymandi Concert Hall isn't exactly the most stellar or expansive place ever; however, it was packed. Paul Mercurio opened the show with about 20 minutes of C+ comedy. Brian Regan then regaled the audience for 90 minutes, including a hilarious interactive encore.

We also had the experience of eating in a forgotten Applebee's, which was abandoned save a gay waiter with longing eyes.

I may be a little old to finally declare this, but the last lingering fundament of my youth is gone. This morning, shortly after turning 16½, Gig's heart stopped. I cried. Like a baby.

I was only 7 when he was born—April 9, 1989—and I'll soon be 24-years-old. Gig has been around for 69% of my presently short life. For a less technical explanation, Gig was my Dog, capital D. He kept me company for years, and as any pet owner-lover knows, it's more appropriate to count the days. Terribly bad, wonderfully good, and anywhere between, a day may be bettered by a pet. Just as with a person, the relationship of a pet holds memories, connections, insights, secrets, and even inside jokes.

I buried Gig beneath the apple tree that shaded him throughout his life. As a young boy, I spent countless hours playing among fallen apples with G.I. Joes, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, and He-Man, when I could find him. All missions to launch a surprise attack on Mount Gig failed.

Gig will be remembered as he was—a welcoming, bright-eyed, wagging watchdog. And a lover of all things cheese.

I miss you, Gig.

I say official because we've known for a long time that we're going to marry. I just needed to abide by proper protocol and buy a diamond.

I'm so romantic, I know.

Lindsey and I are simple people. By that, I mean we're down-to-earth and desperately unadorned. We get our kicks by walking in the woods, waiting for falling stars, and rolling pennies when the pickle jar fills.

No, really.

Anyway, Dan Daniel park in Virginia is a place at which we've stopped several times during our travels. It's very quaint, and quite unpopulated just after sunup. I decided to ask her to marry me in a little spot beside the river where we once had a mini-picnic.

We left very early this morning just so we could be in the park when it opened. After walking around for a while, talking and remembering, we made it to our little spot. After some lovey-dovey talk I bent down and asked, after which she went nuts and said some things in a foreign language, which she later told me was freaked-out girl talk for "OHMYGOSHOFCOURSEYESILOVEYOU."

We will be married in Virginia on May 20, 2006. You can come as long as you bring an expensive gift or, preferably, cash.

Also, no comments from the site up to this point are included. I may undertake the task of adding them to this Movable Type system, but I don't know. Just for the record, between May of last year (when I first built a commenting system) and now, 100+ comments were in the site. I don't know if I feel like finding them and putting them in here. We'll see.

I'm in the process of creating this site and its design, as well as importing nearly 6 years worth of entries. It'll be a while before it is ready for show. Links may not take you anywhere and pages may appear strangely.

If anyone actually happens to stumble upon this site, be a pal and let me know of any suggestions you think up.

This is the first public update since August 4, 2004. If you're wondering where I've been, read this entry. Basically I decided to take a break from everything that I could afford to part with, including this Web site. The new design is temporary; I wanted to change it, and I'm still in the middle of doing that. I'm in the process of toying with Movable Type, XML, and other things to see if I want to switch. I've been using Notepad and HTML for years, so this'll be a big step. I don't know where this will go.

For those of you I haven't seen in a long while, I haven't changed; I still use semicolons more than anyone should, and I'm as strange as ever. My frequent picture-taking is slowly turning into a serious hobby. Once I am able to get a better camera, you will see more photos from me. (The camera doesn't make the photographer, but this one really has its limitations.)

• 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.?

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.

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.