Perhaps I should not be shooting for a cinematic blockbuster mood with this blog's title. Typically, I would write this with the blog of the same day, but I felt the last one should really stand on its own. With the serious nature of its content, I did not desire to downplay it with less serious material holding equal footing.

As mentioned in "25 Part I", I am now 25. What insight, what wisdom do I have to impart upon the masses? {insert your choice of crickets chirping with the occasional moo of a cow or if it is more to your liking, your favorite Michael Bolton-Kenny G duet}

I had the opportunity to join my sister and Ed on a "camping extravaganza" around the area of Gatlinburg, Tn. Can a single night of camping be considered an extravaganza?

On Friday, we spent the day checking out the thriving, tourist villa of Gatlinburg. The history of the region escapes me, though perhaps they have always served as casino towns with no casinos. With plenty of shows, plenty of places to eat, and plenty of shops to buy shiny trinkets of novelty, I was given the impression that I could very well be in a "countrified" version of Vegas where only last week, running water and electricity were installed. Of course, one must go off the main drag to find the "noble culture" of its people. At the emporium of a local tradesperson where the finer beers of inexpense are sold to seventeen year olds with mullets, the front door had a beautifully-inscribed display of the following sentiment: "Party at {insert a racially defamatory remark}'s." Classy.

With the number of tourist shops, one wonders if the local townspeople have stores of their own in which to shop. Is the entire town employed in positions that require big grins, some with fewer teeth than others, as prerequisites for working? Inside a multi-level mini-mall, I was offered a free pinch of snuff by a tobacco sales clerk. Though I thanked him heartedly, I did not take him up on his offer.

From my perspective as a city dweller of the logistical hub of Memphis, I assume that there must be industries other than tourism, but it is conceivable with such a small populace that there is not. The region is a time portal to a Southern culture of 30-40 years ago.

The three of us had the opportunity to take in the wonders of Dollywood. After taking in the entrance fee stickershock of $35, which included an 11.5% sales tax, along with overcoming the nightmarish appeal of a country version of Disney, I found it to be an enjoyable experience. In many ways, it reminded me of Pittsburgh's Kennywood. The environment was clean and the lines were surprisingly short, despite the fact that we rode a tram to the park's entrance. In terms of employment, Dollywood appears to be to Pigeon Forge as Fed Ex is to Memphis.

We found a hotel room in Sevierville with Comfort Inn. It was the first time I had a stay at that chain since Lisa's prom back in 2000 at the hotel at exit 133 on I-79 in West Virginia. It was my favorite hotel there, despite the higher price, and I stayed there on several occasions. It is intriguing how the standardization of hotels can make them seem so much alike, even down to the smell.

As Billie and Ed utilized both the indoor and outdoor pools, I found sanctuary on our room's balcony as I gazed out toward the Smokies, the same chain of mountains in which I became intimate with in my treks to West Virginia. Not only did those hills gave me reflections upon the past with Lisa, but they also brought me to a time of transition that occurred two years ago. Late August of 2001, I went on a weekend trip to the Ocoee surrounded by about 50 strangers who were all connected by the ministry behind the now defunct Ugly Mug. The trip spearheaded my efforts to draw closer to God and it initiated the development of a few strong bonds with others. The ministry-the Mug seemed pure back then, before it was seemingly tainted by the desire of monetary gain. Oddly, I found it appropriate that I would be in those hills again just a couple weeks after the Mug closed up shop in Memphis. I do miss some of the individuals who were once involved, but the vacuum that was created when the management of Mug INC jumped ship did not draw us closer, rather exploded us out upon our own solitary paths.

Overall, the time away did prove as a good recourse from the stressors of the workplace along with my summer class of persuasive writing, though it did bring to life heart-felt memories of ago.

I have finally run across a suitable art table for the empty room in my apartment. I have been exploring corridors of my psyche that has not been traversed in a decade. One can imagine the cobwebs and dust that has accumulated over the years. I am throwing aside the sheets that covered up that which has not relished in quite some time. Thus far, I have been critical of my work with pastels, for once upon a time the medium, along with chalk, was one of my strengths.