I'm 25. I was 24 yesterday.

Casting away the attributes of youth and fully immersing oneself into the aspects of adulthood, twenty-five is an age of accomplishment. I fear that I'm growing older. It is reasonable to expect that I shall soon find myself domesticated with a family of my own and an 8-5 job, embracing in that of no substance; no substance other than that of safety.

My life is safe. I make 30k+/yr. I have great benefits: a nice health care package and a retirement program– a retirement program of all things! A life has just begun to be lived and a retirement program is already in place for that life's closure. Yet, these are the things that I wanted out of college and now I have them. The culmination of my academic experiences has brought me this: safety– safety that discourages my ambition and makes me fat.

There is nothing inherently wrong with being safe. We look for safe housing in which to reside. We want to drive safely. We want to put our money somewhere safe. Everything is safe-safe-safe. Who doesn't want to be safe?

What is gained from being safe? NOTHING– we're only attempting to maintain our present status. It is true that what one has gained is more apt to being kept if it is safe. Ironically, strides had to be undertaken in order to gain that in which is now kept safe. Is the transition to what we consider to be responsible adulthood, a transition of gravitating towards safety as opposed to risk? One would have to consider the value of the contents of what is being kept in our safe box and determine if engaging in risk is a viable option to undergo.

One should examine the contents of his safe box and consider the ramifications of losing it all. If losing those safe items brings greater rewards, would one do it? Is it a matter of courage? A matter of misaligned trust? The worst case scenario would involve losing the contents of the safe box while not gaining any ground. If one deemed that the safe items could be lost, would it truly make a difference if those items were removed and the superficial convenience is lost?

My eyes are open. My heart does not desire this lifestyle of 8-5 work where the years pass with nothing gained other than shallow frivolities, all while remaining safe. I do not desire a life of showroom furniture sets, remote controls, and drink coasters.

Am I ambitious? Perhaps. Ambition has brought down the greats. Ambition made them great. Do I have the courage to embark on this voyage fueled by my ambition?

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.

It's a Friday. There's something about a Friday which gives one a glimpse of adventure, that the weekend is the start of a new beginning away from the shackles of the workplace. Yet, alas, there is Monday and once again we are tethered to responsibilities of utility bills, rent, etc. I'm still looking for my FedEx jet to crash.

As I pen my thoughts this morning, I have a 20 oz. Vanilla Coke next to me. It cost a whopping $1.25 from the nearby vending machine. What a ripoff... and a high profit margin. The 12 oz variety runs for $.75 which is crazy. What ever happened to the $.50 machines? Granted, one could find the $.35 ones, but they were more of an anomaly than the standard– well in my era anyway. No doubt there are those who are still looking for the nickel machines.

I know I'm not that old yet, although 25 is coming up in less than two weeks. When I entered college in the Fall 96 term, full time, in-state tuition with the activity charge ran for $1096. The estimated tuition for the Fall 2003 semester is $2071, and I bet the figure isn't taking into account the possibility of a 15% increase that has been proposed. Crazy. Inflation: 3% per year on average; U of M tuition: doubles every 7 years! Granted, I do not have any historical data to support this claim.

Other than 2002, I have been infused the university environment since 1996 and the quality of service has not doubled. Of late, I would have to say that it is on the decline since they are cutting programs out and merging others together stating they have a need to slash costs. A need to slash costs: last week, I was the one who rolled out sixteen 18-inch flat panel monitors to replace 4 month old CRT monitors. Last semester, Physical Plant bought two Segways for $5,000. Ridiculous. Were their tool belts too heavy to carry but not heavy enough to justify the acquisition of another golf cart? Are they buying into a current fad? I don't have sympathy for the state universities having their funding lowered by the government.

Higher education could learn a lot from the corporate world. Most higher education institutions do not have the risk of "going out of business", so what really is the motivation to operate effectively? An irony: I just now received an email from our CIO with a forward from the president: tuition is raising by $265, thus bringing the amount to $2336. My guess is that the campus bookstore will raise its prices since it is an "appropriate" time similar to vending machines when the sales tax rate went to 9.25%.

Knowledge: the rich get richer, the poor get poorer. At least, higher education understands one business concept: barrier to entry.

Upon other matters, I have been out of the loop. Yet since the loop no longer exists, I am no longer out of it. Apparently, my extrasensory perception kicked in the other day. On Wednesday, I decided to go through my Outlook Contact list and remove 100+ people with most of them being related to the Mug. I just felt like it was time to do so. To my amazement, I would learn that on the same day I deleted my contacts, the Mug was shut down and everything inside was sold in a silent auction.

For whatever reason, management decided to fold and move down to Texas while maintaining their coffee beans online distribution intact. Perusing the website doesn't remind me of the same place. Though it looks great from a business standpoint, it loses the feel of simple honesty that made it attractive to me long ago. As I blogged last July when I decided to quit volunteering in August, the Mug began to lose its focus on ministry and seemed more focused on... making a buck. Stu entered our ministry during that time and many of us believed the Mug was going in the wrong direction. There have been those who were centrally involved with the worship on Sunday nights who haven't been inside the Mug yet this year. I find it odd that Mo would move the Mug to Texas, with the possibility of 2-3 being started there, all while leaving a vacuum in Memphis for what was known as Venture. I find it sad that a place that was once so very cool, focused on God, has now seemingly turned towards another almighty: the Almighty Dollar. Oh, no doubt it is with the best of intentions as more money allows them to do more of... well, whatever they had planned to do with the money– like make MORE money. It works that way for the corporate world. There was once a time in which they envisioned helping those who were low-income earners, but I can only remember Mo chasing the bums out of the Mug.

Of course, all of my commentary is being made from the perspective of an outsider, yet an outsider who was once an insider during a time of bliss. I have been disheartened by the course of these events. The Mug has meant a lot to me in the past. It is a place where I escaped to away from times of drunken revelry to discover what Christianity is really about... not merely Sunday morning, dull rhetoric, but rather an engaging lifestyle in search for the truth. I went from a time in which I lost the guys I used to hang out with on weekends to having a plethora of Christian friends, a concept that was new to me. I discovered romances and endured heartbreaks. On dark, loneful nights, I would immerse myself in music, poetry, and art. I have never been one to volunteer, yet I would volunteer my time every Friday night for a year. As I graduated from college and looked for work, I had friends that encouraged me as I looked for employment for the next 10 months. I had a great camaraderie with a small group of guys who taught me that the struggles I faced were no different from what they fought. If it wasn't for the Mug, I would never have been involved with that Bible study where I would meet Jeremy whose recommendation gave me the opportunity for an interview for my current position at U of M. I would not be the guy I am today if it wasn't for the Mug.

So what led to the Mug's downfall in Memphis (or did I already know back in July how the cards would play)?