First off, I hope that everyone affected by Katrina pulls through as well as possible.  The pictures, videos, and stories coming from the Gulf Coast are just incredible.

I have an affliction – I am a serious weather nerd.  I cannot get enough coverage of the weather and other natural phenomenon.  Ever since the word came through that a major storm was brewing in the Gulf I was all over the news and internet, scouring for whatever I could find.  And it’s just not for major hurricanes.  I am a big fan of NOAA, Weather.com, Accuweather.com, WeatherUnderground, and scores of other news sites.

This morning I sit in continued amazement at the power of the internet anew.  I’ve been on the net for about a decade now, and I now cannot imagine a world without it.  Anyone in the world with a connection can have local information at their fingertips.  All it takes is a few clicks of the keyboard and mouse to find as much data as possible.  The advent of blogging has allowed the average person to get their story out.  Radios and TV stations that have power can broadcast their feeds to the world. (I’m connected to WWL-TV in New Orleans while typing this.)  And access to national news feeds continues to expand.  I’m reading about the latest developments in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama in a way that was not possible even a few years ago.

The remnants are on their way to Morgantown. Hopefully our experience won’t be near what we’re seeing elsewhere.

Now that the thievery, backstabbing, and lies have come to an end in the ACC’s raid of Big East football, it’s time to get down to business and take the field. All teams are officially in their new homes and this fiasco is finally behind us.

Or is it? It seems like each and every day some other media outlet is harping about how the Big East is no longer fit to play with the “big boys” – meaning keeping a tie in to the BCS, the big-dollar payout at the end of the college football season that is ruining the game. Most every sportswriting hack has relegated our conference to mid-major status. ESPN has been particularly harsh, likely reflecting their desire to lower the contracted rights fees for broadcasting league games.

But it doesn’t end there. I follow Mountaineer sports in several online communities, and the drumbeat can get relentless even among family. Calls of “we aren’t good enough”, “our schedule sucks”, or “that’s it – we’re history” seem to hit the fan daily. No matter how much vitriol passes between the naysayers and the rose glass society, the argument never ceases and gets quite stale.

I try to take everything I hear with a grain of salt, but I do have to admit that the constant criticism wears on me. I’m a Mountaineer just like the guys who strap on the helmets & pads, so they will always have my support. I want to see them play to their highest potential, succeed on the national scene, and take pleasure in their accolades as much as any fan does of their team.

Sadly, though, all the harping drains some of the pleasure that college football is supposed to be about. When I think of autumn I still picture sunny Saturdays where the air temperature begins to lower. Comfortable breezes blow through the stadium. Green leaves become brown, yellow, red, or any other color in the Crayola box. Fans come out to tailgate and enjoy the scene decked out in their favorite collegiate gear.

If you’re a fan of a 1-A team, though, all the beauty of fall Saturdays is forced to take a backseat to the pursuit of the brass ring. Your loyalty is no longer expected to go to a team you’ve rooted for all your life. It should instead be directed to the school that pays its coach the most, recruits the flashiest ballplayers, builds the biggest stadium, plays on national TV the most, and has the deepest pocketed donors in the country.

Personally, I’ve had enough. I’m not turning my back on my team. After all, they represent my state, my university, and me. I’m much too loyal to shut them out of my life. WVU is a part of my life- a part of me. But deep down inside a little feeling has developed, a thought that would be considered downright heretical in this modern sports environment: I wish that my university was not a part of the madness.

I almost want my school to not be in the Big East, the BCS, or even 1-A. I don’t want to have to worry about computerized rankings determining where I may go in late December or early January. I don’t want to have to listen to pundits talk about whether we ”belong”. I don’t want to have to hear complaints that we are playing this school but not that one. I’m sick of it all. I’m fed up. All I want to do is go to a football field, hang with my friends, watch a good game, and enjoy the day. I don’t need all these voices, these distractions, chiming on from outside telling me what I should think, how bad we suck, or how we’re irrelevant.

Is that too much to ask?

Twelve years ago this week I set foot on the campus of West Virginia University as a wet-behind-the-ears freshman, oblivious to the nuances of campus life and walking around as lost as any novice tourist. Nearly five years later I emerged from the University holding a degree that said I was educate-able and walked into the real world with an expression that was probably quite similar to the oblivious look of a quarter score prior.

Two days ago this week I set foot back onto the campus of West Virginia University as a second-degree-candidate senior, battle weary from eight years in the “real world” and facing the personal crisis of not knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up. Fortunately I believe I do have a better grasp on this particular answer- if I didn’t, why would I allow myself to carry six hours of classes while working 40-hour weeks at my current job, still finding time to balance the family life with a wife and two sons?

I do not know what the future holds (how well I will do in classes, what career path I eventually merge into, etc) but I do know one thing: things are sure different this time around. For instance…

- Cell phones are everywhere on campus today. In my day, which was not too long ago, I could count on one hand the people who owned cell phones.

- Laptops are prevalent and the campus is wireless-enabled. I think back now and remember as a freshman how exciting it was when I got my first Windows machine. Windows 3.1. On a 486 processor.

- My first student ID was also blue, but my name and ID number was typewritten on it. It had a sticker on it indicating that I was paid up for the semester, which let me get into athletic events. My ticket was the (separate) PRT card, which was punched to indicate which events I attended.

- The freshmen of today look ten times younger than they did in 1993. And it’s not just because I’m old.

- When did flip-flops become standard attire?

- Walkmans and Discmans have been replaced with IPods.

- In 1993 stealing music involved either the risky five-finger discount or making a tape recording.

I’m sure many more items will hit me as I go through this journey, and I know that I won’t be as old as this geriatric list might suggest. (I’m tuned in enough to today’s tech to at least know what products are being used. Besides, I used Napster when it was free.)

Sadly I must close for now, because class time is almost upon me. Time to put on my black socks & brown sandals, and then reach for my walker.

This was a good, pleasant weekend here in the University City.

Although we moved back to Morgantown in June 2004, it was only in the last weekend that we began feeling like we were residents. I’m talking of course about the annual influx of students back to WVU. I did this same activity for five years, two semesters each, but this is the first time I looked at it from the perspective of a Mon County taxpayer. While being out and about this summer the traffic was light, quick, and sane. With the return of students (and most notorious this weekend, their parents) traffic lights backed up, parking lots filled, restaurant waits tripled, and various other instances. Having said this, the traffic growth is a necessary evil because without WVU Morgantown would be a nothing town. With the power of the U Morgantown has many amenities than any other town of 20,000 people would never dream of. If that means that I have to sit through an extra cycle of lights in the summer, so be it.

I’m quickly learning that the best thing in the world is to see the look of pure joy on a young child’s face. I saw that twice this weekend – once when my son graduated from his car seat to his booster seat, the other when he got to have free run of Mountaineer Field. I’m not sure of a better feeling when that genuine smile starts to grow.

And no recap can forget the opportunity to get reaquainted with old, close friends. I’ll extend this back to Thursday night to pick up everything. It is amazing, pleasant, and a real testament that good friends can go long periods of time apart and still reconnect so easily once back together. I find that relationships are also stengthened by the current communications available from the ‘net. For instance, a phone call overseas that would normally cost as much as a TV can be had for no more than the monthly cost of broadband. And the phone call before did not include video so that friends can see each other. I’m a big fan of Skype and a third party video plugin.

I can only hope that all weekends will be as good as this last one.

I was out with some good old friends last night, catching up and enjoying some good times. On the downside, I learned several things about myself.

- I can no longer party like I used to. Several years of adulthood and adult-like activities such as 40 hour workweeks, matrimony, parenthood, and other similar items have taken their toll on my nightlife tolerance. I found myself tired early and feeling my beers much faster than before.

- We are old. My buddy looked across the bar and remarked that “everyone in here can legally drink, and they all look so young!”

- The morning after a night out feels worse than it used to. It’s not like I got sick or anything today, but with all my other responsibilities I now appreciate a good nights sleep. Anytime that gets disrupted I’m a mess the following day.

So in light of my bitching, was a night out with the old gang worth it?

You bet.