The Blog of Glenn McLaurin

It’s the weekend.

Thank God.

Currently, I’m having the kicked-back evening I need, and am going completely stir crazy as a result of it.  So many books to read, so many essays and stories to write,  and I’m torn between calling up random people to meet for supper and forcing myself to sit on the sofa and stare at the television.*

I managed to schedule my tour with Elon, which I’m really looking forward to — visiting the campus more so than the information session.  I plan on taking at least one camera with me; the campus is supposedly one of the most beautiful in the Southeast, and I hope to get some good pictures while I’m there.

If I ever publish a book of photography, it will all be produced by my Lomographic Supersampler.  The title? Life at Two Frames per Second.   That’s right, I would be combining art and math (the Supersampler shoots 4 frames in 2 seconds)… and if I could do that, who knows what other limitless potential I might possess?

*National Geographic Explorer is an amazing television show — I’ve seen two different documentaries on prisons now, and I believe that federal penitentiaries are very scary places.  So thank you, Discovery Channel, for giving me the reason I needed to not commit a felony.

Call it sleep deprivation, call it senioritis, call it old-fashioned laziness, but I have developed an amazing ability to put off practically everything in the past few days.  About the only thing that follows some semblance of a schedule anymore is my routine of procrastination…  Maybe my life is not challenging enough.

After my Dave Matthews-centric weekend, I switched over to a Pearl Jam feel for the week.  A bit of grunge rock, anyone?

I have not made it much deeper into All of Aunt Hagar’s Children, but I did pick up One Hundred Years of Solitude again… the concept of magical realism is interesting, and it is certainly unlike any literary trend I have ever experienced, but I keep expecting BIG FANTASTICAL events, when all the book really calls for is a suspension of disbelief.  And I guess therein lies the problem… I’m used to telling myself I should ACCEPT the peaceful coexistence between anthropomorphic creatures and humans, or EXPECT a deus ex machina to affect the plot, or otherwise understand that the outcome of the novel revolves around some great technological advancement or hidden magical ability.  In One Hundred Years of Solitude, however, one barely comprehends that something is amiss…. the reader may not be able to put his or her finger on the anomaly, but it becomes obvious that elements of the work clearly place it inside the broad realm of creative fiction.

This elementary analysis of magical realism, mind you, was developed as an alternative to some other, much more pressing matters.

Undoubtedly, life is picking up pace. The other day, a classmate realized, loudly, that midterms are two weeks away, meaning almost a quarter of this school year is over. What happened during it? Not much, it seems. But that will be the focus of another post.

I attended a public book reading last night, by Edward P. Jones, and purchased his latest book, All Aunt Hagar’s Children. He signed it for me, and though I have yet to crack the spine, I am eagerly anticipating some time to devour this work of literature. Along with From Beirut To Jerusalem, The Third Chimpanzee, The Black Swan, and about a hundred other titles, all seated impatiently on my bookcase.

Edward Jones, the author, was an incredibly interesting and terribly creative fellow. A Pulitzer Prize Winner, MacArthur Fellow, and just all around brilliant writer… on the days that I ever doubt my ability to change the world, people like Mr. Jones continue to inspire me to forge ahead.

On a different note, I finally finished documenting my trip to Italy and the misadventures I had while trying to return home in a written format, only a year and a half after the events actually took place. Mr. Jones told the audience to write for the sake of writing, but at the moment, it seems that scholarship incentives are the best stimuli to which I will react. So it goes.

Friday was a relatively intense day: along with the book reading, I attended the very first meeting of the Philosophy Club, which started off slow but really picked up the pace after a while, and I also found out I am a potential school nominee for both the Morehead and Parks Scholarships. Good times… good times…

I’ve been listening to an inordinate amount of music by the Dave Matthews Band, a group who until this week, I’ve never been remotely interested in. Does that mean anything?

Brief update:  Edward Jones’ The Devil Swims Across The Anacostia River may be the best short story I have ever read.

I’ve jumped on the bandwagon, but I’m not sure how long I’ll stay on.

I guess the next few months will be some of the most important of my life — they will, at least, matter far more than the many months and years prior. Perhaps, after a particularly rough day, I’ll find some solace or relief in posting my thoughts online and letting anyone look in on the more tantalizing aspects of my life… or maybe the novelty will wear off, and someone who desperately wanted globalized.wordpress.com will realize that his or her precious username was wasted. backscatter.wordpress.com, I’m looking at you.

Hopefully, however, I can turn this little piece of the internet into something that has some amount of meaning to me. Exciting events, life-changing decisions, even the occasional random thought or photograph may find its way up here. Time will tell.