The daily spam e-mail filth is almost enough to put me over the edge. Three hours of carrying around the worst thing I’ve ever known, and already I can feel it in my stomach. If I can’t get this hatred — raw edged hatred — out of my system, soon it will be an ulcer.

And hatred is not a strong enough word. There are no strong enough words, but the darkest ones I know keep stabbing in my throat. I am glad my head hurts now; probably tomorrow I’ll be able to stop clenching my jaw. I am one of the most controlled people I know. I am shaking. Never…

As kids, we get mad. As we get older, most of us learn patience but will never stop coming across events and people too infuriating to describe. And sometimes, these events and people are one and the same: the event will not be undone but perhaps the person could be. I lack the love to get past this. I have never, and hope I never again, felt so sincerely the desire to hurt someone. I have never honestly wondered about the possibility of getting away with murder.

Death. Death is what we all deserve, and death is what I hope he gets. It is wrong, and most parts of me know it, but here is someone I would choose not to save from eternal fire. No one is too good for death, but some should meet it faster. God forgive me for this anger, and save me from this hate, but keep a special place in hell for him.

Choices cannot undo the fact that there are no coincidences. There are no coincidences. 2 Samuel 13.

I expect that, at midnight tonight, the world will come to an abrupt end. And I must admit (in the most solemnly sarcastic of tones) that it is my fault. I think today I met the girl I was meant to marry, but I didn’t ask for her phone number. Cute, goes to a Christian college, enjoys heckling protestors… anyway, ripples in the pond, butterfly effect, etc., I may have inadvertently ruined God’s plan for all eternity. If you read this prior to 12:00 a.m. on August 29th (nobody’s going to, just let it go), take heed! If you read this at any point after that - well, I’m wrong again and that’s not the end of the world.

For those of you bored enough to expand this entry, first let me beg your pardon for that half baked play on words. On a marginally more serious note, I was on my A-game today as far as politics and socializing go. I volunteered to help out with Dubya’s visit to Troy, got assigned to wander around with a clipboard making sure people were registered to vote, and put my tour guide voice/gently self-depracating humor into high gear. Yeah, I didn’t realize it had a high gear either. There were locally important politicians and college females taking note.

It is still hot & muggy and I still don’t like it. The Redhawks game was delayed 40 minutes on account of lightning, and since we got kicked out of the stadium we just came home. Regional ESPN was here though, and from what little I watched on TV I’d have to say Betts will be, to quote Switchfoot, “more than fine.” The Michigan game may be physically painful and I’m not 100% sure I want to travel in said state in anything less than a battleship. I plan to ride in the back seat crying softly with my eyes closed.

ACH!? Reflexively I swat at whatever just grazed my neck, then smack it with my pillow. I don’t bother to look at the clock but while I’m up I might as well make a visit to the restroom. Praise Jesus that I shut the bedroom door behind me, because when I open it again there is a black shadow flapping around the room. Bats creep the pants off me, and if this one had attacked me while I was peeing the outcome would have surely been disastrous.

I figured it was a cicada or something. Nasty as those monster bugs are, at least they aren’t a bat. Even bats are kind of cool, when they are behind glass or at least a good distance away. In your room in the middle of the night… that’s a different story. Little beady-eyed, winged demon mouse.

Like a ninny, and because I don’t know what else to do, I leave the door open and high tail it downstairs. Somebody left the light on in the living room and my wandering tormentor follows me. I figure it’s better to wake DK and Van Hizzle asking for help than it would be to wake up everyone by running through the house screaming. I still don’t know what time it is, but I feel bad flipping on their light and saying, “Hey, you guys have anything that’d be good for bat killing?” DK says “tennis racket!” then rolls over and promptly falls back asleep. Van Hizzle gives me a couple towels; I apologize for the trouble and slip back into the kitchen.

Batty McSatan is in the living room crawling around in his freakish bat way on one of the window screens. For a second I think I can maybe catch him off guard and whack him with a towel, but after a step towards the doorway he flips out and starts circling the room again. I’d forgotten about that whole sonar thing - so much for the element of surprise. I stand in the kitchen a couple minutes waiting for something helpful to enter my mind, when suddenly Batty veers towards the doorway and comes winging into the kitchen. I start running for the living room, and take a swing at him as he goes past my head. Naturally I miss, but I keep running and go straight to my room. Van Hizzle’s towels come in handy for blocking the cracks at the top and bottom of the door (I don’t know why this would ever be necessary but it seems like a good idea).

I wake up Junior to let him know there’s a bat wandering the house, since he’ll probably be first out of bed in the morning. It’s a little after 4 when I fall shaking into my bed. What have I learned this morning? I am a pathetic excuse for a farm boy. I’m scared of a bat, which means I’d be scard of birds if birds were furry and had creepy finger-wings and fangs. Any self respecting farm kid would have waited in the bedroom doorway for that measly bat, smacked it out of the air with his bare hands, and stomped it into a rodent scented pulp. I, however, am a pampered little sissy boy, and unless the rental office responds quickly to the repair request I will make tomorrow… I may never sleep soundly again.

Stupid window with its half of a screen and a big space at the top. Stupid hole closet with shoddily finished paneling and plenty of bat-friendly gaps. Good thing my first class isn’t until 2 in the afternoon, I think to myself as I watch 4:30 go past with the heart rate of a toddler who’s been attacked by a panther.

Ah, the fantastic joy that is autumn in Ohio. A solid week of “no chance it’s going to get hot enough to swim” weather before you move back to school, and then a nice 90 degree air-conditionerless slap in the face. Welcome back, students!

I don’t want to go to law school. I never did, but off and on the results of a juris doctor degree sound appealing. Which, as a result, is kind of the same as wanting to go to law school. Suddenly it’s senior year, and I still want to do what it is I’ve planned on doing, and I’m sure I’ll find a job when I graduate. It’s what I’ll be doing 20 years down the road that has me wondering if I should do some more planning ahead while I’m tangled in this whole college thing. Will I wish I had gone to law school? Crap.

I just finished reading In, But Not Of by Hugh Hewitt and it was a good book. As expected, Mr. Hewitt is pretty demanding in his advice to would-be leaders and influencers of future society. So you’re left with a tough juggling act, wondering specifically what God did drop you into the mix for. Am I supposed to accomplish big things - or REALLY big things - with my life? Hard to decide whether calling it quits after 4 years of school and going out into the business world would be selling myself short. Hard to decide whether trying to go to law school and then do who knows what in the world would be a vast misstep in arrogance and personal expectations.

It doesn’t help that I think maybe I want to be hypereducated as a means of making up for my doofus-ness. Lots to think and pray about here…

My last day in Columbus, and I wake up face-down. Not for any exciting reason, though… rolled over in my sleep. Face-down and with a stiff neck, and a completely unexplainable headache. 5:30 in the morning and I’m, unfortunately, awake. I should go back to sleep for another 2 hours. I can’t.

My last day in Columbus? I’ve had a good NBC internship for the summer, briefly ventured into the Kroger cashier business, spent plenty of time sitting around. Nine months and I’ll be done with school, getting a REAL job, sitting around like 2 days a year. I’m not going to like that, but my last ‘free’ summer is done, and in a couple of weeks I’ll be back at school. I knew August was coming, even knew it would come too fast, and there was nothing to do about it.

Married. My freakin roommate from a year ago got married. Two years ago this time he was completely single, just like the rest of us, and the impending doom of graduation was not looming over our shoulders. I don’t even love school - heck, I hate most of my classes - but just like summer, I know school’s end will bringing something harder. And between my stiff neck, patented headache, and cranky 5:37 in the morning mood, none of it seems to matter. And I can do nothing about it. I roll my head around and crunch out some of the sore feeling and fall asleep knowing things won’t seem so crappy in the morning.