...On the Wild Side

God Bless America… (Taken with Instagram at Raley Field)

Mon, 04 Jul 2011 05:31:27 +0100

God Bless America… (Taken with Instagram at Raley Field)

Starving Dogs in Sudan Crave Taco Bell. Photo by:...

Tue, 22 Mar 2011 19:56:29 +0000

Starving Dogs in Sudan Crave Taco Bell.

Photo by: power2theplankton

Follow me twitter.com/Jglenndavis

Tue, 02 Feb 2010 20:04:20 +0000

So first off, I apologize for being gone so long, But I figure I needed some time off to reset my person after such an adventure as mine was. I appreciate all of your support during my time abroad, and I will appreciate your continued support as I head into this next phase in my life. Manhood.

So today, I am off to do something that I never really pictured myself doing. Interviewing for a job. Why? Because I’m graduated. My words were truthful in that graduating college has been one of the least stressful and most relaxing and joyful things that I’ve done in my life. I’m still not stressed even after a few weeks on the job hunt, and now in just a little while, I’m on my way to the apple store on State Street to try my luck as an apple retail employee. I’m not worried not stressed, actually a bit relieved that I’m in fact moving in some sort of direction, although it may not be my ideal. It’s kind of funny because I don’t have an ideal path. I have ideal goals and results that I want to achieve. But I don’t really have set plans to achieve them. I think of it as a way to keep my will out of the way of God’s while still holding my goals at the forefront. Thanks to some tough thinking with Jane, I was able to figure out exactly where my heart is right now and that’s made things easier.

I’m still thinking of Grad school, most likely an MBA, but I don’t know what in yet, and I want to go out in the workplace to find out what that is. I’m still excited for more schooling surprisingly, I think that my attitude going into grad school as opposed to my one going into college will benefit me and my studies. I still have done no research on any sort of GMAT/GRE mostly because standardized tests still give my brain the old one-two punch, but I’m not opposed to looking into that to create an ideal situation for my future education. I’m pumped on it.

So this is my home blog, and this is my home self, although I believe that everyday in this life is a life on the wild side, so the title is sticking. At least for now, you never know in the future. Also I just created a twitter account and I must say that there is much comedy to be had within the limitations of 140 characters. So If you’re involved in this newest web craze follow me at twitter.com/Jglenndavis and bear with me for a few weeks as I get the hang of this new playground. Love peace chicken grease.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Twenty-Three...Not the End

Wed, 23 Dec 2009 07:00:01 +0000

I’ve been dreading this moment for the last two weeks. I’m not sure what it will take to finish this, and I’m not sure that I’m even capable of doing it now, but I’ll try. I’m home. After four months of prolonged travel and perpetual tourism I’m home. I’ve also been to school, and gone through all of the smiles, meals, and long awaited hellos. I’ve been able to talk to people about my experience this semester, but I haven’t really thought about it. I like it that way. If you have been following along with me during this period, you are obviously aware that this semester has been full of stories and events, most of which have come from trials. I’m not really sure if there’s a proper way to internalize a semester’s worth of learning and traveling. I’d like to believe that I learned enough to make me into a new man, but surely enough I have slipped back into all of my old attitudes and habits. I had hope beyond all hope that I would be changed, but as far as everyone else can I see, I am completely the same person. But I’m not.

I feel different inside. I know a lot more about the ways that I process life. I have become accustomed to these changes already, so I look the same but I still feel different. No one but God can look inside my heart and see everything that’s different from before, and the lenses that others present to my soul cannot decipher the microscopic shifts in my character. I’m quieter now, which I despise. I have not had a major outburst of humor or stupidity in quite sometime. I’m older now, which I enjoy. Walking around I feel that those who know me have been speaking to me in more solemn ways and I feel respected. I’m different now, which those close to me do not understand. Those who know me intimately seem to be misguided in their perceptions of who I am. But the hardest part is that I cannot correct them, because I have not yet been able to identify all of the changes or their implications in my soul. I’m a bit lost, about as lost as I had been previously on the trip. Only now I’m at home, but I’m still searching for my sense of stability.

I’m deeply in need of some guidance, because my expectations of home were purely speculative and I’m too dazed to comprehend the differences. Recently I’ve been more kind than I ever have, but at times I’ve also been more of an asshole. I’ve been more understanding and faithful at times, I’ve also been more confused and fearful at others. I need a lot of Jesus, but Jesus is not answering in the ways that I am expecting him too and neither are any other parts of my life. It figures that I’m going through all of this at the same time. I’m in need of a break, with no questions and only answers. I’m in need of a lot of heaven before I go on in my life, because I was wrong about a lot of things, and my better judgments have failed me. I’m pretty broken, but the good kind of broken. The kind of broken where you’re not too bad to fix, and it’s a great opportunity to install some upgrades. So bring it. I guess.

Who says you’re can’t still be traveling even at home?

This is not the end…Still on the Wild Side.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Twenty-Two...Music and Life

Fri, 04 Dec 2009 16:02:42 +0000

First off, God is faithful. That’s true, and is true always. Second, I thank god for writing, I thank god for my hands that their ability to transmit coherent thought into keystrokes and intersecting lines. I’m thinking now of the future, and there it lies. All of it is already inside, I can feel my future within me like a child that’s grown along with me the last few months. I know that it is inside of me though I have not seen it, and I know that my future will be a different manifestation of the man that I am now. Pregnant with my future. The image is not very comforting, but the symbol is. I know that I do not need to do anything other than be myself and seek to learn, and continue seeking God’s kingdom to be provided for in every way. I also feel strongly that I am the person that I am so that God may use me, because any other uses of me would be a waste, even if it doesn’t seem so in the minds of men. So there that is, I am the Lord’s.

Music is the rudder of my soul. I’m afraid that there is too much inside of this statement for me to remain a coherent individual. I want to be able to be consistent in the person that I am and always be genuine in my interactions, but whether or not I choose to acknowledge it, music has a major influence on my mood and introspection. I feel that music carries this weight for me so that I will one day help others through the same relation. When I write music, there is a certain release that I cannot describe. Sometimes not being able to write makes me feel sick. A song is like a continuous anxiety that sits under a stoop in my heart, taking shelter from the storm of my brain. As I begin to feel the songs presence I start paying attention to what it might be about, what specific things in the storm of emotions and thought that the song is pertaining to. Then I sit and write. If it’s a good song it’ll write itself in more than an hour, if it’s really good it’ll be done in half that time. If it’s not too great it’ll take me a few tries to write a song, but that’s just how it goes. When I write my own music I begin to understand myself. Music is a medium to digest my feelings and emotions and experiences, and also share them with others. It’s a medium, and an undeserved gift that I am very thankful for.

I started writing music two summers ago. My older brother gave me his old guitar and a case and I started strumming, but more importantly I started praying. I felt that there would be no way for me to learn how to play music, due to my zero musical talent and background. But I started praying, and playing, and soon enough I had three or four chord shapes, enough to play a few songs. Then came singing. I needed to be able to sing to play out loud, also I was just sick of not being able to sing with my whole heart in church because of my tiny vocal range. So I prayed for a voice. I’m sure you can guess what happened next, but at the time I could not comprehend why or how God would help me be able to play the guitar and sing. When I didn’t really need to do either. That’s just the grace of God and we will never understand it. So anyway I started singing and playing and got better and better at both. That’s when I wrote the Elephant and the Wildflower.

At the time I had no clue what I was doing with such strange symbols in such an obscure allegory. What the heck do Elephants and Wildflowers have to do with one another? But now I know that’s just how I do songwriting. It kind of just happens. So I knew that this song was important and I knew that this point in my life was important. So I went on a quest into the desert to find myself, God, and my first song. I went on a pilgrimage to Joshua Tree national forest. Armed with the necessary items the most important being my guitar, bible and my brother’s hammock. I got in late at night, around ten, and set up camp in the desert maybe a mile from the car park and near some familiar rock formations. That time was so important for me, not only did I find God in the form of a giant big horned sheep who was watching over me as I played in the sunlit dawn. But I found myself and my song on the top of a windy precipice. The Elephant and the Wildflower would be my musical answer to prayer and the fulfillment of a silly boy’s dream. I recorded that song for the Phoenix (A student publication of art, music and poetry at Westmont) which through much pain and vulnerability, gave me the courage I needed to keep writing and start performing. Just open mics and stuff, but seriously, it’s all so important to me.

All this started because I was listening to some song written by some guy, I don’t even remember what it was. But when you hear a song that fits both your mood and situation, it transforms into a beautiful work of art that can be unique to every listener, or even every time you listen. I hope that you can understand the reasons that music should be made. It’s not for money or for fame or recognition, but a humble dedication to life itself. I’m not even sure if I understand it, but it’s powerful. And with our ipods and itunes and garagebands, it’s more powerful now than it has even been in the past. So live and love and listen to the melody. Pay attention to what music can teach you about a moment, and embrace it with all that you are. Music is a part of all of us, and there is so much that we still have to get from each other and the music that we all share. Just some things I’ve learned on this trip.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Twenty-One...Consonants and Vowels

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 22:56:44 +0000

As I walk through the segmented remains of a former empire, I can see the fragments of society as they once were and now remain. The land that is ruled by different peoples at different times often sees the cruel abuse of passing theme and fickle identity as they begin to infect the subjected land. There are old churches, adorned with rotten frescos and melting mosaics. There are mosques, one per every three square miles in the ruins of the Ottoman Empire. There are churches built for nation and for God, and regimes at times have not forced any distinction between the two. Empire after empire, Europe has risen and fallen and fought to come to some sort of balance. Even now, the solidarity and peace that has categorized the EU is still apprehensive about the prospect of an “Islamic” influence in “Christian” Europe.

But time after time the ruling powers have demanded a theme for their architecture and artistic culture. And where are we now? We study history, but who is defining the history of today? Are we in a time that will be no more than two sentences in the history books? Or are we the start of something new? Maybe something fresh? The transition from modern to ancient lies in the passing of two or three thousand years, and in light of all human history this amount of time is relatively small. Two hundred years from now, the people of the World will be looking back at our time making connections and distinctions about their cultural contexts through the lens of our current context. But the question is, what will they say about themselves?

Will the next thousand years bring more warfare than the world has ever seen? Will that time bring an end to civilization? Is that even possible? What can be done about our futures now? Is it possible to prevent the repetition of tragedies and horror that our world has already seen? Will we meet aliens? Will they be friendly or hostile? Will they know God? Will our future generations understand God in a different way than we do? What sort of social revolutions will they see? Will our questions be answered? Will we be remembered? Will our efforts count for anything?

All of these questions are important in the story of time, and in any moment life may be completely different than it was in the moment before. We should hold these things in perspective as we consider our own lives. But perspective and reflection are the extent to which such questions can be taken. It is healthy to hold the big picture in view when making decisions, but decisions are made in the instant. We make decisions in the moments that we are in. I cannot directly make a decision today of how I am going to act twenty years from now. So thinking too hard about the future becomes futile and problematic. We need to hold all things in consideration to gain perspective and allow the mind to process outside the context of the moment. But decisions are meant to be made in the moment, and what was true for me yesterday may not be true for me tomorrow. We are meant to live here and now. We are meant to live with who we are with, exactly where we are, so we can learn, and grow, and understand life more fully. In the story of time we are truly but a consonant in a word in the middle of a run on sentence, but each vowel and consonant are necessary to form the sentence, and each sentence to the chapter, and each chapter to the volume, and each volume to the story. How many volumes there will be only God knows. Lucky for us, consonants and vowels, all we need to do is sound it out. The E makes the I say its name. LIFE.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Twenty... From Rome with Love

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 10:42:43 +0000

There are an endless amount of previously empty spaces in my mind that are now occupied by important bits of data. I just finished up my second visit to Rome, and this time around my experience was far more enlightening. Although this time I did not have the awe factor that comes with a first time experience, Europe Semester enabled me to understand Rome more fully. This time I was aware of shifts in power, of dynasties and empires past and present, and the city was alive for the first time in my mind.

Ancient Rome was the cradle of western civilization for over eight centuries before the capital was moved to Turkey (Our next destination). And through my studies and group projects I can now talk to the people in my group about the life and death of Julius Caesar, the decline of the Roman Republic and the rise of the roman Empire. I can understand the politics of the day, and only imagine what the eternal city would look like covered in marble in all of its original grandeur. I love Rome, and I can’t wait to travel there again.

In my dreams I’m already home. I’ve been having dream after dream where I’m home with the ones I love and already thinking back on this trip. It’s a blessed feeling to wake up missing my travels and pondering the significance of them only to realize that I’ve still got two weeks left. It’s a great way to be in transition, and I trust my brain and my dreams to make my transition home very smooth. I have been able to be excited about returning to what I know best while still being involved fully in my daily activities and studies here. It has actually allowed me to enjoy these last few weeks more, knowing that I’ll be home soon. Knowing that all the hanging questions that have lingered in the back of my head all semester long will soon be answered and lived out.

But I’m a bit anxious about Christmas. For me, Christmas kind of changes as the approach to Christmas changes. I’m sad that I will not be with my family for Thanksgiving, and I am sad that I have not been able to feel the temperature change and feel the days grow dark. I long for a warm winter breeze and California’s worst weather. I long to see the mountains of the Inland Empire capped with fresh snow and begin to dream of snowboards and hot chocolate. I want to set up my family’s small porcelain Christmas town that lights our entryway year after year. I want to help my pops pick a tree and get my hands all sappy bringing it inside. I want to spend a day outside hanging up Christmas lights and listening to the same four CDs we’ve had since I was five. Even Alvin and the Chipmunks (Although we’d have to procure a cassette player for that one…old school). I feel that these are vital steps to shaping the ideal Christmas season, but this time around I’ll adjust. This time I’ll make an exception and do my best to jump onto the already moving X-mas train. But I know that I need to be home, so I’ll be there. Soon…On the Wild Side.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Nineteen...A Map of the Heart

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 18:27:12 +0000

This Semester I have been traveling across the vast landscape of the Western world. I have visited sites of significance to all modern societies and have heard languages I’ve never heard, and learned many things I never knew. I have been both near and far from the familiar to the unfamiliar both terrifying and exhilarating and I have discovered a little bit of what is represented on a map of the world. However, recently I have realized that I have not only been discovering what is represented by a map of the world, but also what it takes to map out the human heart.

I don’t mean the organ, no I have not been secretly studying anatomy and medicine into the wee hours of the night. What I mean by a map of the human heart is the role that everything and everyone around the individual plays in forming that individual. I have come to realize that distance can clarify and call into order the standings of the human heart. Distance can add valuable perspective to all sorts of lives and relationships. I have begun to map out my own heart and have found where it is that my heart calls home. I have discovered that I find myself in these certain areas that seem to act as “anchors” to my identity and reality. In the map of my heart, I can find myself in four places:

The people I know. This is by far the most obvious of places where you can find yourself in your heart. People act as an anchor and a home in so many different ways. Your family is your constant, your family are those who know you better than anyone else in the world, and in my case, love you more than anyone else in the world. I rarely every feel segmented or confused around my family because when I’m with them I can strip myself to the core and know that I am known and accepted by these people no matter what. I am also anchored in my friends. As opposed to my family, friends have seen my social development in a shared context. My family knows the person that I am better than anyone else, but my friends understand and know the person that I have become through our shared experience with growing up and going to college together. There is also of course the big deal, the main social anchor if you will, the “significant other” or “better half.” The second or third question that anyone asks as an update in the context of a semester abroad is how are you and (Girlfriend/Boyfirend) doing? In the course of this semester I have found myself dealing with all sorts of questions mapping out my own heart in this area, but without a doubt I have been able to be settled and feel secure from any amount words from her. In my most trying times over the last three months all I have needed from her is the simplest “I miss you” to become centered once again. The map of the heart is perhaps most vulnerable here, in the context of prolonged separation from someone that you care very deeply about. Honestly, there are limitless amounts of wisdom to be gleaned from such a separation, and I hope that I have not missed out on any of those benefits. But seriously, it’s time for me to come home and hold her once again.

You can also find yourself anchored in places. I cannot stress enough what it means to have some sort of consistency in physical space in a time of intense personal development. The process of learning new things everyday becomes exponentially more exhausting when there is no place of solitude to retreat to for a time. Having your own place (mine are my room and my car), keeps the mind from drifting into nothingness, or losing a grip on reality. I have learned that I like my seasons how they come in California. I have learned that it’s a bad idea to deprive oneself from multiple anchors at the same time for an extended period of time. But thankfully I have been able to understand my heart more fully. I love Santa Barbara and I love Riverside, and I cannot begin to explain how happy I am every year on November 1^st when the clock falls back, we gain an hour of sleep and lose an hour of sunshine. Dinner in the DC when it’s dark outside stands for friends and the coming holidays and that is the one thing I miss most about my lack of place. Also, never underestimate the power of a long and comfortable bed. On average this trip, it has taken me a minimum of twenty minutes to fall asleep every night. I’m looking forward to my own bed.

You can find yourself anchored in things and events. This can look like routines, or something that is familiar to you, that brings your mind to a place of immediate peace. I have found that that practices I miss most are singing, at the top of my lungs in my car by myself as I drive from one place to the next. It is not only good for my voice to be in practice making sure I can hit the notes, but also good for my soul in using my delicately constructed music library to reflect any given mood at any given time, the expression of which tends to simplify my life greatly. I cannot understate the importance of creative outlets. I have been milking this whole writing thing dry. I have written 22+ pages of blog. Maybe 30+ poems, 20+ pages of short stories, another 20+ pages of papers, and at least 35+ pages of notes. “Gasp! Some air and space would be nice” say my writing muscles to the rest of my creative space. Missing a guitar and a limitless pool of new intellectual conversations has left me in desperate need of my home. But above all and leading into the fourth anchor I have only been able to worship in song in intentional community a maximum of ten times on this trip. The language barrier has placed limits on churchgoing practices, not to mention the fact that you need to do research every two weeks to find a new place. I have come to see how important it is for a believing individual to have a routine space to go and seek out the Lord, and if nothing else give the sacrifice of your time and you heart to the Lord in song. I miss Reality Carpinteria more than I knew was possible.

Finally the last anchor, God. Cliché? Nope. Unique? Yup. God is man’s last hope for sanity in an insane and draining context. God is a traveler in his own right. He simultaneously travels to all places in our physical world to simultaneously meet the needs of his despairing children. I cannot overemphasize the importance of this fact. God is everywhere, and I am far from home. If it were not for God, I would have been completely lost with no anchors floating helplessly out into a sea of uncertainty and internal anguish. I thank the Lord for showing me all of these things, and proving to me even more clearly that His person is unchanging. God is my anchor and my ultimate, He is both comfort and necessity, he is air and apple pie, and he’s the only reason that I will be able to come out of the last three weeks of this semester as a better man. I trust God with my life and my time in these remaining days, I trust that my final leg of my journey on the wild side will be led in holiness and growth and change. I am excited to come back to you all a better man, but know that I need you, and miss you, and love you all…Especially Isabella, my guitar. Deep Breath. Love one another. My heart is tied to home and I’m reeling in the line to end up right back where I left off. Bye for now…On the Wild Side.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Eighteen...My Friends

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 21:14:12 +0000

Dear Matt, Levi, Curtis, Jordan, Nate, B-Lane, Jordan, Ray and Jake.

Hey guys, what’s up? I’m in Florence, Italy, for another few days then heading to Rome and Turkey for the final leg of my journey. It hit me just now, we’re graduating, we’re growing up you know? I know Alex is already done, and at least Matt, Levi, Curtis and I will be done after this semester. So guess what song just popped in my head? “Give It Up” by our boys the Format. I have the three of you to thank specifically for introducing me/letting me adopt one of your favorite bands as my own.

I can’t even single out one of the many times we posted up in Page or Clark in the halls with Levi on the guitar, jamming out the songs. That’s how I learned the lyrics, not even from the band, but from my best friends at school. I think that there’s something really special to be remembered in the message in this song, and in the memories that it brings me. It was back in freshman year, talks about climbing stairs and fond memories of our different pasts and High School graduations. We looked at our first year in college as something truly different, getting out of our towns, making our own decision, “drinking beer” and what not. We came to the halls of Page and Clark with different stories of what had shaped us up to that point. We were all unique and original and ready to start out on a new adventure. I’m glad we’ve gotten to do it together.

I’m thinking about meeting Levi’s kids from Nuevo, those crazy cool cats that love to mock hardcore and throw barbecues at the beach. Or Jordan’s little bro Miles, and Nate’s little big bro, and their story of their long standing friendship. I loved kicking it with Ray and Matt in the summer, sustaining those valuable friendships knowing that we had people back home who knew who we really were. I’m thinking of Curtis and the legend of Chooch and how I have yet to meet this guy, but I’m sure I wont be disappointed when that day comes. We all remember Blair Jacobson, not to be confused with Jake Blair who thankfully is still a part of our lives. Blair, the BQOC as deemed by Levi, was the man, three years older than some of us, he was too cool to last, but I still love that guy. I remember smoking my last three Swisher Sweets left over from my 18^th birthday with Blair and Jordan Evans one night in the tunnel. They had been aging gracefully in my desk drawer, and when the occasion finally called for the smoking of a few Swishers they were happily called on to fulfill their destiny. That night I remember I discovered my testimony, or at least the first part of what was to become my testimony, which has only been fortified with time and mistakes. But those times, these time, have made me, and dare I say us the people that we are. And I for one tend to forget that.

Guys, remember “the deck?” Longboarding the last week of school? Experiencing the Nintendo wii and our first taste of Xbox360 in Jake’s room? Remember Shipley? Fruiting the halls? Rob Blews? Breaking the glass with ___? (Insert object here i.e. football, soccer ball, baseball, sweatshirt, fruit, body part) Ray punching through the wall trying to Impress Lindsay Bates? B-Lane’s “never fail” brew-buying policy? Remember Second semester, when we got to feel for the first time what it was like to be home, and then what it was like to drive back to Westmont with memories and so much fun and life to look forward to?

I have to admit that during those days I never thought these days would come. I could have sworn that I would have been dead or otherwise shipwrecked by now in one way or another. I guess it was always lingering, “What is it like for those seniors?” “They’re almost done with college?!” “How does that happen?” “Well I don’t think that’s gonna happen to me.” So guys, man! I miss you guys, a lot, all of you, there are even more I haven’t mentioned who we’ve shared good times with, but I just want to know something. Starting January, when we’re all done or finishing up, can we make these the BEST TIMES OF OUR LIVES TO DATE?

Because we know we’re brothers and what we have will never die, even after we’re long graduated and moved on from college into wives, lives, and careers. I want it to matter in the most intense way possible. So let’s do it! Okaaaaay?! Yeah Baaabyyyyy! So here we go:

“Joe oh I’ve seen him around and there’s Adam he’s afraid to go out, I don’t blame him, I just wanted to go out to eat. Then there’s mark goddamn I wish him the best we were kids back than as if we could progress and sometimes I, I just cant sleep thinking of everything we could have been. So give it up throw your hats in the air and change us as they land saying we’ll get out of here but something tells me that you’re too scared to go.” – The Format

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Seventeen...I'm a liar-Sorry.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 23:07:10 +0000

What to do? As a writer, you need to figure some things out as you go along. Things like, how to write well, and how to form appropriately ordered sentences with a vocabulary that best reflects your level of high education, and most importantly, how the heck to follow an important piece of writing that analyses a specific and influential part of our world with another piece of writing of any kind knowing that it is not going to be anything close to as impactful as the previous piece of writing. Also how to write semi-comical run on sentences. The answer, thank the great folks at Nike for this one, Justin do it. Wait, is that it? Whatever.

So We’re no longer in Poland, or even Berlin or Prague, we’re now in Florence, Italy! And we’ll be here for about the next two weeks, at which point after leaving we will have one more paper to turn in, and one more quiz to take. Also at which point I will be writing the last paper, and taking the last quiz of my Westmont undergrad career.* Am I scared, sorry mom and dad, hell yes I am. I’m frightened, but not of school or my lack there of. No, actually comparatively these last four years have been the best and brightest and most challenging of my life, and to say that I’m looking forward to a break would be an understatement. But it’s not all lilies and daffodils. It might be all butterflies, but it is certainly not all lilies and daffodils…

Okay, so seriously. I’m sorry. I could honestly go on and on right now about how horribly hard life will be after graduation. I could speak to you about all of my troubling thoughts about what I’m going to do, work or grad school? Am I going to keep in touch with my friends this time around? Will I get paid for what I do? Will I get paid enough to live in Santa Barbara? Will I be able to come to chapel at all? Will I be able to visit Westmont without being labeled as a creeper? Am I a creeper? Am I? No! Does having a girlfriend automatically disqualify me from creeper status? What if they don’t know my girlfriend? What if they think I’m making it up, and call me a liar and a creeper? NOOO! Wait? Where will I live? Covered that. What will I do? Covered that. How long do I have to wait to visit Westmont as an Alumnus and not a creeper? Got that. Umm what else? There are some others, but—Okay so… All this goes to say that if I’ve learned one thing in my four years of college it is—Drumroll—Not to worry about what I’m going to do after four years of college. Winner? I think so.

So peace, I got my first taste of true peace during finals week of my freshman year at Westmont. Back in the day I used to worry, and my main worry was whether or not I was going to have to drop out of Westmont, due to my decrease in scholarship money due to my decrease in application of brain power due to my increase of social skills and great relationships—Sidenote: Shout out to my first semester in college for screwing my GPA from those wretched months until eternity, no seriously, thank you. End sidenote—So long story short I was out to sea with no real hope of sailing home with all my money, unless I pulled out a miracle of pulling my grades up by a margin only attainable by Jane Highstreet (Who unfortunately for me, was not in my life at the time… shucks)! I lost it, but it got me to pray and give more of my stuff to God, and he helped me to figure out how not to worry about the little things—Like dodging undeserved plagiarism bullets on the last day of finals, but that’s another story.

Which brings us to finals first semester of my sophomore year in college. This is where I have to thank God for teaching me a lesson about prayer and peace through none other than Big Poppa himself, the Notorious B.I.G. I was going crazy, overwhelmed by stress and tests and assignments and fears about getting my GPA above a 3.0 to prove myself a semi-intelligent unrealized underground genius, as is my status today. But yeah I prayed for peace in the face of the largest amount of stress my pseudo-easy life has ever seen. And God gave me Hypnotize. I plugged in my phones and peace came in waves that made me feel fearless and overwhelmingly joyful at the same time. I knew that no matter what was going to happen, that I was in the Lord’s hands and that his will was what was going to happen, and I could not make a stitch of a difference. All I had to do was keep on studying, so I did. And I studied with more joy and purpose than I ever had before, I remember my mom praying for me, and knowing that for the rest of my college career that everything was going to be okay.

So here I am. By the pure grace of God I know peace, fully and personally, and when I need it, he gives it and reminds me that I’m in his hands and have nothing to worry about. So yes, I lied, I’m not scared of the future. I’m STOKED for the future. I’m stoked to be coming home to my loving family, I’m stoked to be coming home to my wonderful girlfriend, I’m stoked to be coming home to my house full of friends, and I’m stoked to be coming home, staring down skyrocketing unemployment rates, economic despair with nothing but a few files full of poetry, papers, stories, and music in one hand, and an almost validated four-year college degree in the other. Yes, I’m stoked. Feel free to say a prayer, feel free to offer me a job, feel free to encourage my in my writing and social skills, feel free to listen to my music in local coffee shops and feel free to give me TONS and TONS of money at my graduation party this summer. But if not, I’m at peace, and I know that I’ll be fine. One more month…On the Wild Side.

- Justin Glenn Davis

*Pending the approval of the office of the registrar at Westmont College.

Chapter Sixteen...Broken Numbers

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 23:10:50 +0000

Ten thousand words into this blog, and nine weeks into this journey. Those are both significant numbers. I’ve been on the wild side for quite some time, and it feels like it. The numbers begin to have power. Eight countries, heading now into our ninth. Four currencies, heading now into our fifth. Thousands of miles, by bus, by plane, and by train. Millions of faces, billions of eyes, personalities, and separate lives. The numbers matter, and this week the numbers made me cry.

Our group had the unique and terrible experience of visiting the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camps in Poland. The fact that a red line comes up under the word when I type Birkenau tells me that the world does not know as much as it should about the holocaust. We’ve all heard the numbers, but if we really heard the numbers than we’d remember them with dropped jaws and watery eyes. I have never been to a place with no hope. But when I set foot in the Birkenau complex I could not see anything, I could not feel anything, the air was thin and clear and there was no noise. It was so barren. As I began to walk down the long, long, long pathway where the prisoners chosen to work would go, separated from their family and friends, men from women, and the strong from the weak. The “weak,” rather, the women, the children, the sick and anyone older than 40 or so, would be marched straight to the gas chambers to be murdered in hoards. But that walk, that long lonely walk to processing and registration was the most horrible experience of my life. As I walked I noticed that I was walking slower than everyone else, I was thinking mostly, about my life, about the people I love and those that I would have been separated from making the same walk 65 years earlier, and I began to pray. “God, where were you?” “Jesus, what did you do?” “What is left here now.” The answer cam in an image of weeping angels and the father seated on high in heaven crying over the loss of humanity suffered by his sons and daughters. It was our choice, human beings, we choose to do bad, and he lets us, we live in sin and God loves and cries, but we do what we want.

What the Nazis wanted was poisonous and contagious. They wanted elitist domination and utter extermination. The Nazis poisoned one another with their systems and lies. When human beings are caught up in so much hatred and sin, they begin to believe their own lies and poison their spirit. It’s a contagious disease, sin, and we all have it. But we can resist. The Nazis encouraged it, even based their foundations on it. It was the perfect crime, and how to you punish an entire 20^th century civilization for their crimes? 9 million members of the Nazi party in Germany at the end of the war. Myriads of SS officers, military personnel and civilians all guilty, if nothing else then by association, but guilty, guilty, guilty. What happened to them? There were a few thousand arrests, and 7,000 convictions, but most of them walked away with a slap on the wrist. And in post-war Germany 1945 you have 9 million former Nazi members walking around on the streets as if nothing happened.

Back to the numbers, enough of the guilty, lets talk about the innocent. 6 million Jews died during the holocaust, most were murdered in gas chambers. More than the miles I’ve traveled, and more than the people I’ve seen on this trip. think of every person you’ve made eye contact with this week, that’s not even close. Think of their lives, lost. Think of their loves, murdered. Think of their bodies, tortured in ways that I don’t care to think about. Think of their stomachs, empty and starved. Think of their hearts, with no hope of survival. No pleasures, no rest, no comfort, only pain and death. I looked and I felt them, I looked and I saw them and I felt them and I felt sick, I walked away to vomit and all that came were tears. I walked away to breath and all I saw were faces. I cried. Lost it, all hope of going on. I thought to myself, “how will I continue to live knowing that this place existed?” My heart was lost, and my mind was under attack with the reality of the holocaust. I’m ashamed that I don’t vomit just thinking of these things. I’m ashamed that I’m continuing on with life and can walk away from that place. Please weep, Please weep, please lose your heart and then find it in the hearts of the innocent people that were slaughtered in the most hateful act that the world has ever seen. Keep your eyes open, and do not let it happen again.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Fifteen...I'm Lovin' It!

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:38:35 +0100

“We had barely left the prairies in my heart since—we never moved an inch. Does the love grow home with the wild rose?—The sun’s moving out here.”
The Rural Alberta Advantage – “The Ballad of the RAA”

Something of time if captured in music that stems from the heart. Musicians have the talent of portraying life in a way that all are welcome to participate in the listening. It’s like breathing, listening, it’s just how we live.

I’m in Poland now. I bet you’d never guess what my first meal past the border was? Can you?

I love McDonalds, and not in an obsessive way, nor in way that leads to morbid obesity. But in a mentally healthy relationship type of way. Just like in relationships, too much of anything can be a bad thing, familiarity can cause indifference and the loss of appreciation for the beautiful things in one another. Same with McDonalds…

I have grown up eating at this wonderful establishment from birth. Cheeseburgers were my favorite food until grade school, when I opted for the more classy and foreign taste of pizza. But McDonalds still kept a special place in my heart. It started with my love affair with the play place. The ball pit swimming, the static slides, the occasional game of tic-tac-toe hidden inside the monstrous castle. Not to mention that creative graffiti and cool little cubbies for shoes. I don’t see how anyone could condemn McDonalds for being unhealthy when a large piece of their success lies in the encouraging children to tumble, dive, climb and slide off their tiny fries and little McNuggets. So Precious.

Next were the best days of my childhood. For about three consecutive years, once every six months or so, my mom would give my brother, sister and I half day off from school to drive up the 215 and meet our cousins at a McDonalds halfway between our houses. It was about a 45 minute commute one way, so it was kind of a big deal. But we would meet and laugh and eat and play for a few hours and those were the best days. The best times.

Then when I was in junior high school maybe eighth grade, my Grandmother used to come by and visit us at home every Wednesday afternoon and bring us lunch. Sometimes she would cook, sometimes we would cook together, but on most Wednesdays she would call us and pick up our favorite things from McDonalds. These were the best times. My Grandmother is the most important and influential person that I’ve known in my life. So these days were the highlight of the week, some of the memories that stick out in an otherwise monotonous home schooled childhood.

So when I invite you to come to McDonalds with me, I’m not telling a joke. I’m not trying to get you to mime gagging yourself, or stare blankly back at me waiting for an explanation. I am inviting you to join in a very special and sentimental tradition in my own personal history, and this tradition is only growing now. On days like yesterday, when you’ve spent four hours sitting on a bus with no battery in your distractions and hunger built up from a lack of a nutritional breakfast, if you’re like me you find yourself praying for a McDonalds. But why pray for McDonalds? They’re everywhere, they’re tasty, nostalgic, consistent, and cheap. So crossing the border into Poland, starving, craving home, warmth, and pretzels, I prayed for a McDonalds and as usual, that prayer was answered. I don’t need any angry emails about this post, I understand if you have seen that Spurlock movie or read the books and everything on top of that. I’m just saying that it’s your taste buds that are missing out on the memories.

Dear Ronald,

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Fourteen...FTB (F*** The Bus)

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 00:11:28 +0100

Another bus to another city in another country. The wild side is tiring, but tolerable. To a point. I have not reach that point of zero tolerance, but I definitely see the option approaching on the horizon. I already feel sorry for that poor soul that catches me at the wrong time on the wrong day in the wrong mood. Zero tolerance, we’re only human, all of us. And living with the same 40 other humans in unsettled, highly volatile habitats with no real form of routine (Other than lengthy bus rides), can get to you. But I think I’ve done well, it’s been seven weeks and I’ve yet to have an actual melt down, aside from the casual down day missing my girlfriend or my language. All is well. But you know what they say, calm before the storm.

I’ve made the connection that recently it has been a bit tougher to keep moods up because the weather has been terrible. Lots of rain, at the most inopportune moments, usually bike rides. And barely any sun. I’ve also been told that the weather will only get worse the further we head into winter. So California, I miss you sunshine and smiles.

Things I admire: The puffy clouds are awesome. There is not much better than listening to rain while you’re sleeping. The cold makes you appreciate the glory of soup. School is still easy. Josh Hernandez for being the collest guy on earth. Fall and yellow trees. French (Belgian, Dutch) Fries. My heavy coat that I bought at the beginning of this trip. My Ipod—Spanky the Music Maker. Sam Eldredge for aiding my sanity. Piet Mondriaan, Vin Van Gough and a few other art revolutionaries for making art three dimensional (Figuratively). Zach Condon for discovering music. God for creating the elephant. My parents for everything, but mostly putting up with me when I was a nuts-o child ADHD ketchup addict.

Things I don’t understand: Love. Righteousness. Wisdom. War. Genocide. Human Nature. The Weather. Prayer. Spiritual Warfare. Kites. Aging. Time. Bottled Water. Salt. Emotion. How to win when you feel like you’re losing. Why the emergency exits in these busses consist of repeatedly thrusting a hammer through selected panes of glass, considering that most situations where an emergency exit is needed I could see the glass as being broken already, and wouldn’t you just cut your hand, a lot? Like the bus driver drove us in doughnuts around the parking lot, and apparently he wasn’t afraid of us rolling, but these beasts are topheavy, in which situation I would clearly not be wearing my seatbelt and most like too incapacitated to hack at a shattered sharp and deadly window with a tiny pathetic red hammer. And you should see the little cartoon explanation, this little guy, hammer in hand, with his imaginary crotch straddling the bloody sharded guillotine-like “emergency exit.” They should just include a sign right next to it, “In case of emergency, please painfully castrate yourself. Here’s a hammer.”

S-T-U-P-I-D.

This rant brought to you by Mercedes-Benz luxury coaches.

Pray for good drivers, or I might soon be missing some fingers and/or “other” appendages…On the Wild Side

- Justin Glenn Davis

"People who do nothing other than be in love are perhaps more serious and holier than those who..."

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 23:28:50 +0100

“People who do nothing other than be in love are perhaps more serious and holier than those who sacrifice their love and their heart to an idea.”

- Vincent Van Gough

Chapter Thirteen...We're All Screwed Up

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 20:35:47 +0100

When the Lord walks on the wild side he stays close, and speaks softly. He says: Listen to this, this is important. “In the way of righteousness there is life, along that path there is immortality.” Jesus is our advocate, and the holy spirit is our compass and our eternal guide. There are some things in this life that are too hard to answer. There are times when we are overwhelmed and even goodness seems like too much. These are the times that we must be thankful for who we are and what we have, and trust that God is leading us on the only path for us. These are also the times to let go of everything that we hold dear, everything that matters, the blessings and the curses. Because He gives and He takes, but he perpetuates the best and only path for our holiness, daily.

I’ve been on the wild side for six weeks now, and in this time, I have been through a whirlwind of decisions and experiences. But surely enough, through the fog and the rain, the light of the Lord shined so brightly on me. I took a walk today. I got back from Brussels and visiting the European Parliament, and walked by myself from the train station home. I took the long way. But I was happy. Sometimes when I’m by myself, and sometimes when I’m with others, life comes and overwhelms me. It’s like a tidal wave or a rushing river that flows straight up to the throne on high. And I begin to realize that we are all really screwed up.

Are you aware? If you don’t think that you are—guess what? You are. We’re all really screwed up, and this wave just hits me and says “You’re so screwed up, and look at your life. Think of the people around you, those who love you. And by the way, you’re really screwed up, they love you a lot, and they and you are all really screwed up. And guess what? I love you, and you’re really screwed up and I love you so much. You’re walking and breathing and smiling and you’re screwed up and I know. I know that you’re screwed up but I don’t see you as screwed up, I never see you as screwed up, I just see you as my son whom I love.” And it floors me.

Today I talked to more people whom I love, who are also screwed up, and we talked about how much we love each other, and how screwed up each of us are. And the most beautiful thing about this whole equation is that whether or not we realize and live in it, that there is no condemnation. Because we’re all screwed up, as screwed up as the Apostle Paul and Charles Manson, and Mother Theresa. But today it hit me, we are called into communities to love and talk to one another, if nothing else than to repeat to each other what we already know and have heard. Because we’re all screwed up and we’re human, and sometimes we’re attacked, sometimes we’re in sin, and sometimes we’re just tired. But there has never been a time when we don’t need to hear the gospel, because we’re all screwed up. God wants those who are on the mountains, to speak truth to those who are in the valleys. So that when you come down from the mountain and head into the valley, someone else will be waiting on the next mountain top screaming the truth into your heart. We all have mountains and valleys, we’re all screwed up, but we love each other. And if you’re in the valley, the good news is that God has never loved you more than he does right now. Truth…On the Wild Side.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Twelve...My Most Sincere Apologies

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 16:24:13 +0100

I think that if you are reading this you are owed a particular debt of gratitude. Most likely if you’re here, you’ve to some degree liked what you’ve so far. So I thank you for taking the good with the bad, the writings with the rantings, and the emotions with the experiences. Thanks.

Anyway so today we’re heading out of Paris into Normandy to learn all about WWII first hand, from the beaches of the fomerly Nazi-Occupied France. It should be one of the most intense times of my life, so prayer will be appreciated because sometimes learning about all the destruction gets to me and I don’t want that to take away from understanding exactly what happened in WWII. Bruges is our current “Hub” city, even though we are currently about a 5 hour drive south in Normandy for two more days. Bruges is a beautiful small medieval city with a lot of it’s original architecture and design. It was one of the few cities in all of Europe that was spared of bombings and fires and pillaging during this last century. It’s one of the most unique and peaceful places that I have been blessed to spend time in.

The next leg of our journey led us to Paris on a five day excursion, during which time we did not have a single classroom session. It was the first time that we just got to chill and visit museums and see the touristy sites but still hang out with the whole group. And lucky for me, there was internet in my room for the first time, which is truly an unappreciated luxury for those of you sitting comfortably on your beds reading this. Yesterday, the exctement about life in all of it’s splendor was inspired by our 13 hour excursion into the heart of the city. There were seven of us, Sam, Kurt, Lizzy, Maddie, Michael, Robocop, and myself. It was truly one of the best days I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying, with a great city and great friends. Hence the fire in my belly about being alive. Also crepes are dank. But eat them whe you’re hungry or else they’re not even half as good. I ate mussels at the reataurant we went to last night and they were bomb. But I’ve heard from a few sources that Normandy is the place to go if you want a good bucket of Mussels and fries…So Down. I’m excited, we’ve got a few more hours on the Bus from Paris to Normandy. Shout out to Chach, Happy birthday man! I respect you so much. HXC4LIFE. Anyway, please look forward to pictures being posted on Facebook. I’ll do the best I can to get a Paris album up soon. But I’m also working on a special compilation called “Bopi” so keep your eyes open for that as well. Okay iuntil next time…On the Wild Side.

P.S. Normandy is great, but I once again find myself sleeping diagonal on my european sized bed…

Chapter Eleven...The Most Important Thing I've Ever Written (With the Longest Title)

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 00:08:45 +0100

In a far off land. I swear I’m still Jet-lagged. Or Museum lagged. I’ve had a bit of trouble sleeping the last few weeks. It’s funny, actually right now is he first bed I’ve slept in since we left that my feet don’t hang off the end. Maybe it helps, maybe not. I’m thinking of the phrase chosen by Dave Eggers to begin his novel A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. “I am tired, I am true of heart. You are tired, you are true of heart.” If anyone who has been on a semester abroad tells you that they don’t miss home by the fifth week of traveling—they are lying. Or maybe just a little bit dead inside. Thus far my experience abroad has been one of the mist tiring and heart-wrenching of my entire life. But today, today ladies and gents…we lived.

Today we spoke in tongues. Today we road mechanical trains all across the city of love, and did it with good friends, and great weather. We ride on trains and smile and laugh and scream and we don’t care. We are young, we are free! We are full time students who have not been in a classroom in over seven days. We jump, we scream, we laugh loud! We craft inside jokes as if it were our occupation, and those who speak our language only guess at what we could mean by our incessant ramblings. We do Paris in one day. We start at the top(Notre Dame), move to the top (Park De Buttes Chamont), and then end at the top(Le Tour Eiffel), in ways that only cigarette smoke and Nutella mustaches could describe. Who are we? Does it matter? You want to be us, but does it matter? We’re not too far from what you are I’ll tell you that, but we are pretty far from where you are. We’re on Europe Semester.

No one can stop us, they hear us and stare at us and immediately wish they were once again in our shoes. “If I could only live like them, but my life is good.” They want to know us, “If only I knew them to go along with them for the rest of today.” “How can they be smiling all day?” “How can they walk around for 13 hours straight and still be smiling?” “How?” “How?” How can you not? Don’t you see, don’t you see that life is so good? If you don’t…try listening to the Cranberries, or the Arcade Fire, or call someone that you really love just to say you love them. Look through an old photo book and see what you once believed, and believe again that life is not too far from your grasp. Give money to a homeless person. Be generous! REALLY GIVE! Seriously give twenty or thirty bucks to a dirty grimy homeless man and see how big he smiles. Maybe asks you why you did it or if you’re sure you want to give him that much. See how that feels.

This is life. It is the greatest blessing, being human and having choice, having a voice, an opinion, and an influence on the state of this world. It is a blessing that not even the angels enjoy. Christians, we are called sons and daughters of Christ because he loves us and has blessed us with this blessed life. Fricken enjoy it! Do what you have to do to get it right, because unless you are more than excited about every second than you have lost something along the way. Look into the eyes of a smiling child and try to curse your circumstances. Look into the hurt in the world and do not despair, we are not called to despair but to change. If you are feeling down, look up and praise the heavens for breath. Stop and think of your childhood and all the times that you were truly happy, and praise the heavens. Then get out and get cracking because we have a lot of work to do. This is the world that we live in. This is the love that we can feel every day. Around you are the people that are supposed to be around you, and they are all there for very good reasons. Take it, look at it, take it and enjoy it. It’s life, it’s the best Christmas present you’ve ever gotten, the one that’s still in your closet or around you neck. Bless it. Love it. It’s life. It’s ours.

- Justin Glenn Davis

"A Goose in a Cesspool, A Swan in a Pond."

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 22:33:26 +0100

“A Goose in a Cesspool, A Swan in a Pond.”

- Sam Eldredge

Chapter Ten...Self-Discovery

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 13:28:33 +0100

Perspectives on life: Rostrevor. We are now in the airport in Belfast, Ireland, and this is the first time I have written in the last five days because I needed a break. I’ve felt burnt out, mostly because I’ve been so excited about spending this semester writing and making the best of my time by chronicling it on this blog and writing poems and many other side projects. But this week has been a very good artistic rest and I have many new perspectives to write on.

So as many of you know, I have recently turned Twenty-One years old and—yes I do feel much older. Mostly because I am so much younger than most others people at my educational or “grade” level. I always start to feel young around the time that all of my colleagues begin to turn the year older than I am. So whenever I finally reach the benchmark I feel old. 21 is a very strange age. It represents full freedom and adulthood. There are now no restrictions on several of my personal decisions. Drinking, or at least buying alcohol is of course the most prominent of these freedoms, but over here it really makes no difference. So that was really, not that big of a deal. For me the change was more on a philosophical level. I’m realizing that now, as I get older people will begin to respect and give more weight to my own opinions and perspectives on life. This has always interested me, because I wasn’t too old when I first realized that everyone is allowed to think what they want, and that if you think a lot you might think of cool things others have not thought of. There are many people who argue that there is no such thing as an original thought, and I used to refute that belief, until my life experience began to support it. However I still hold that even though original thought may no longer be in existence (Or growing more extinct by the minute), that original decisions are still intact. Decisions are the actions or reactions to/from processed thought and I believe that our decisions more deeply influence who we are than our thoughts. This is a lesson that I am learning, and I’m glad I’m writing this down because making the decision to write solidifies the thought.

Anyway, now that I finished that intellectual rant, we can get back to the point. (If ever I start a sentence or thought with the word “philosophical” feel free to tune out or skip the rest of the paragraph…). So my whole point in talking about thought and decisions is that I know that as a person, I have some things that I can contribute intellectually to society as a whole. I realize that the older I get, the easier it will be for my contributions to fall in with the dross of the rest of the world’s hopeless thinkers. But now…ready?—I’m Twenty-One years old! I’m still young, still fresh, just now getting ripe and ready for market. And thanks to college and experiences like the one I am getting now abroad…I’m LEARNING more! Getting SMARTER?! Can you believe it. It’s honestly great to be young and it’s great to be writing. So I will continue to do so in my 21^st year. I have also taken this unique opportunity to set some goals for my 21^st year in existence. Sadly for you, the world is not ready to accept or judge my lofty goals, so I will keep them to myself. But don’t fret, if you keep a sharp eye I’m sure you’ll be able to figure them out as I succeed at them. One goal that I can tell you, seeing as it’s been a goal of mine for a few years now, and most likely will continue to be so for my entire life is getting to know myself better. I enjoy dissecting my psyche and figuring out my life’s patterns and what really makes me tick. If you want my opinion on it, self discovery is the quickest way to find inspiration, and growth. You can quote me on that, or just try it for yourself and tell me what you think. Also, a final word to the wise: Bruges is about to get rocked…On the Wild Side.

- Justin Glenn Davis

Chapter Nine...Dear London

Mon, 14 Sep 2009 07:29:43 +0100

Anxiety, Fear, Wonder, Excitement… Just a few of my emotional responses to my current stimuli. Recently I finished writing my first legitimate short story. The title of this story is “The Knight and the Castle Wall” and it has been met for the most part with positive responses. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing—writing. I feel like no one ever does until they’ve been at it for years or generations or whatever. It’s weird to think that my favorite Authors like J.D. Salinger, and well, Dave Eggers, but him only recently are still around and writing more stuff every day. You think about the fact that no matter how good you get you will never be better than them. Right? OF COURSE! That’s why you need to be unique, different and just as entertaining. That’s my goal, as should be the goal of anyone working to prestige that has already been received by another, to be the best that I can possibly be, in the way that is most personal and the best for me. That’s why I write, that’s why I’ve written terrible stories and poems since I was a kid. Not because I want to be anybody, or impress anyone. It was just because I knew I could. I wrote this story about a lizard who was a wizard (I know right?) when I was maybe 9 or 10 years old. I was so pumped on it. It was maybe a total of five or six pages hand written, but it sure as heck had ten chapters. I’d love to find that story, but I’m sure it’s been long lost to the world for years now. Anyway getting back to my aforementioned current stimuli. I am making a consideration toward submitting my story to The New Yorker magazine’s fiction section. But I hate even saying it out loud. The New Yorker is a weekly magazine out every Monday with current events, cartoons, and literature, and it’s been producing good literature since 1925. I hate talking about it. And thinking about it makes me feel crazy. Anyway, If you’d like to read the story I need as much input as I can get so email me personally at justinglenndavis@gmail.com and I will try to get you a “read-only” copy.

So this week has been our last week in London. One of my goals was to finish my story before we left, and I achieved that goal so I’m pretty set to go. A lot of us out here have gotten a small case of the London Blues. We all came overseas expecting to be traveling all the time, but for some reason the professors set up our schedule so that we would spend the first almost month of our trip in the United Kingdom. We haven’t left the greater London area yet and the sites are getting old (Did I just say that?). We’ve all slipped into routines and it feels weird because we know we are not staying, but it just feels like we are. Now we know the Underground, the busses, the bridges and churches and we’re all ready to explore some new grounds. But I’d like to take this moment to pay homage to London for its incredible inspiration in my life…Eech ehm (Clears throat, and reads aloud in British accent):

Dear London,

Oh how I thank you for all the wonderful things you’ve done for me over the years. Why, it feels like just yesterday that I bought my first beer (1/2 pint Carlsberg) with my debit card as my father stood nearby shaking his head disapprovingly. Oh the late nights by the Thames, where I would walk hand in hand with destiny, shouting at the tops of our lungs, “I love chips!” Or the days in the National Theatre shifting from butt cheek to butt cheek and rolling my eyes because even good acting does not make up for my knees digging into the seat in front of me. The long nights at the Shakespeare’s Head waiting at the bar to order I drink I would mispronounce and have to repeat several times thanks to my thick American accent (“I’ll have another Frilly Tutu please…what?…yes…a pitcher.”). This is the life my fair maid. Oh London I have sat and wept over the beauty of your vast galleries and the endless amounts of BOREDOM that lie there within. I have crept into another’s culture through my mindless involvement with local peoples and festivals. I have truly, truly been inspired by the writing of your very own National Poet, who taught me how to rhyme and channel creativity into poetry. And finally, my dear London, every time I have put pen to paper within these city limits, you have pushed me to achieve greatness far surpassing that which I could have imagined for myself, and for that, sweet mistress—I thank you.

Sincerely Yours,

- Justin Glenn Davis