So this season I got talked into joining a fantasy football league. No one seemed to be bothered by the fact that I could only name a handful of NFL players (all quarterbacks) or that I would rather comment on the teams’ uniforms (What is up with Miami’s color scheme anyway?) than their football skills.

Or maybe that’s exactly why I was asked to join. Who knows?

If you have been following local news and keeping up with the rumor mills on campus you would know it’s be a long couple weeks for The Gargoyle.

As Co-Editor it’s been an enduring educational experience to say the least. What has made it especially difficult was losing one of my very best friends during the debacle.

Lately I’ve had the sinking feeling I’m tethered to technology. (I think I’ve even blogged about it before.) And this past week on vacation, I realized there’s no escaping it.

I checked my E-mail (both work and personal) at least a half dozen times and fielded several work phone calls. Granted, the week was anything but ordinary. (Do I have a knack for timing or what?) But the fact remains, I cannot let go of my electronic communication.

I don’t mean to rip off The Verve here (or show my age in pop music terms), but that is the only phrase that came to mind when the phone lines went down today in the good ole Proctor Library.

With the beginning of the semester and all the panicked phone calls that go with it, I have begun to dread the sound of my phone ringing as of late. But today, when the system went down, I realized the feeling of freedom came paired with an unexpected feeling of isolation.

Sure I have E-mail, Internet and, if I so choose to waste my precious daytime minutes, my cell phone. But the point is I have picked up the receiver no less than three times since 11 a.m. and tried to dial, only to get the deafening sound of silence.

It dawned on me today that the summer is almost gone. Although it’s hard to believe from the scorching temperatures outside. But in a matter of weeks Flagler’s campus will once again be crawling with 2,000+ students like a gigantic ant farm, but with cars.

But what is really amazing is what has been accomplished this summer. For one thing, I took up running. And let me tell you that is astounding in and of itself. In the process, I even managed to drop a few pounds. But more importantly, and perhaps more relevant to a blog for the Gargoyle online, we embarked on a complete redesign of the print edition of the Gargoyle – something that has never truly been done in the paper’s more than 35-year history.

Last night in a fit of nostalgia, I found myself watching Legends of the Hidden Temple on Nick GAS (Gotta love digital cable and its complete randomness of a lineup.) and something occurred to me that never had before – that was the hardest freaking game show ever!

Seriously, it makes the rigorous “answer in the form of a question” Jeopardy! format look like a cake walk.

Everyone I work with is either getting married or having kids. And I mean everyone. (Just work with me here. I’m exaggerating for dramatic effect.)

Seriously though, in the last three weeks, no less than three couples have gotten hitched and more are planning to tie the knot yet this year.

So I finished my second official 5K yesterday. (Yep, I said second.) That’s 3.1 miles to those of you who, like me, wonder why runners insist on using the metric system. The beauty of it is not so much my finish time, which is mediocre at best, but the fact that I shaved almost four minutes off my finish time from the first one I did back in May.

So, it’s roughly 6,000º F outside and the humidity is 900 percent. What I use to call skin is now a layer of goo about a quarter of an inch thick that is slowly melting away. And I have taken on the unmistakable look of someone who lives under a bridge with my hair in a matted mess on top of my head.

A man can go days without uttering a word. Sit two guys in an empty room for a week and grunts, farts and hand gestures will satisfy any necessity for communication. I once drove from Eglin AFB, Fla., to Washington, D.C., with another guy and the only words exchanged in that 13-hour trip went like this:

I had a thought-provoking piece on religion and its inevitable path to obscurity but, it seems that the mini-Mac I saved the document on (along with everything else I have developed since last June) crashed and burned and apparently has little chance of recovery. So, I thought I would share a few things that I find interesting.

It’s official. I’m old. Well, my left leg is anyway. The actual age of my knee is 26, but lately it has felt like it’s around 90. And today I had to go to the doctor to look at said knee, which has plagued me for nine years.

The good news is, I am still able to run, but trying to explain about how I hurt my knee in the first place has always been a bit interesting.

The Da Vinci Goad

Nothing will send a novel to the top of the best seller list faster than a controversy. Tell the masses not to buy a book and they will immediately wipe out the inventory of every major bookseller outlet. So I am sure nothing made The Da Vinci Code author Dan Brown more happy than when he read the latest criticism of his novel on the news wire:

Are my legs supposed to hurt this much?

No, really. I have started walking like an 85-year-old woman with osteoporosis. I didn’t think it was possible to be this sore. OK, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I know it’s possible to be in a lot more pain, but I figured my lungs would go into shock long before my legs did.

It’s so quiet.

Although, I have to say, I’m pretty torn about how I feel about that. The day-to-day hustle and bustle has already died down and things are quite serene on the third floor. And in the quiet (but far from peaceful) moments, I have time to focus on how sore my legs are from the four miles I walked yesterday.

Florida’s Official Pie
Fierce debate broke out in the Florida House this week over… Pie!

Yes, I said pie.

The circular pastries, which have become synonymous with Southern dining, took over the State Congress forcing representatives to choose which cuisine would reign supreme! Pecan pie? Nah, too Georgia-ish.