Hermanos, Herman's Hermits

Thursday night I went to the church on the hill for my first Hispanic pick-up soccer game. Most of them are Christian brothers, and they play every Thursday. Translation: I plan to play every Thursday, too. Sporting, I could actually keep up, especially on defense. Keeping up with the language, however, was a different story.

Friday (last) night Peter, Katie, Trent, and I drove over the hill in Trent's car and met the girls at the Boardwalk. We saw Herman's Hermits live on the beach. I am certain it was lacklustre compared to the original phenomenon, but at least it was actually Herman, still doing his thing. ("Baby, baby, can't you hear my heart beat?") Proceeding to Seabright beach by 9, Peter and I built a fire, and we roasted the hot dogs and s'mores the Callahan girls had brought. I tried to keep Beck's guitar in tune. My clothes smell like smoke. Late summer should always be this good.

True Dreams, Artificial Awakenings

Monday I helped Mike with his house. The guests from Italy are coming, because the intern program starts soon. I got paint on my jeans. Octavia asked me about some events that happened a couple months ago, and how that's going. I didn't know what she was referring to at first, and the poor gal was trying not to say anything too specific, and making faces like it might be a sensitive topic. I finally figured out she was talking about a girl I had sortof dated. I made nothing of it, because I really hadn't thought about her in a while. But then Monday night I dreamed about it. Must have gotten my subconsious stirred up. Anyway, the funny thing about the dreams, which woke me several times in great discomfiture of mind and heart, weren't your typical fictional fare, but a mere tape of the relationship rewound and replayed, with everything but the awkward parts edited out. I woke up early, glad the night was over.

Tuesdays are 65¢ night at The Beach Boardwalk in Santa Cruz, so we went over. We spun ourselves sick, rode rollercoasters, drove bumper cars, and watched people. I played the original Tetris arcade game for a bit. The sticky "Rotate" button made it a little challenging. I also went into the bathroom to wash my hands, and found on the way out that I had been in the women's restroom. Some lady looked at me funny, but I looked at her funny right back, like "what're YOU doing here?" She had to go out and double check that she was in the right bathroom, but by the time she came back I was gone. Anyway, our whole crowd had ice cream at this decent little joint that had a lot of unusual flavors. The goateed, ponytailed, snaggletoothed late-twentysomething guy started making Big Lebowski references. Overall, a very fun Tuesday night with friends.

De, [LAT. "down from"] (also 4th Letter of the Spa. Alphabet) | Re'ah [HEB. "companion"]

FOREWORD. I bought a plane ticket to Atlanta last week. I bought a plane ticket back home this week. From where? Virgina.


De

I also registered for Spanish 5 online. I pulled up my transcript, and got a shock. Apparently, I was misled in thinking I had gotten a B+ in the class. That must have been my grade on the final, because my transcript says I have a D in Spanish 4. No wonder, transferring from Spanish 2, which I took in 2003. Gah. De priore.

Re'ah

But the big deal is the following. Today I will write this as an altar to the faithfulness of God. I will name it Re'ah, which means "close companion," or "a good friend." May I not forget how, following the Lord, I finally surrendered my right to bring my friends with me, and consented to leave them behind (to "hate" them, as Jesus said) if He so requires. This week in Sam, and in Trent, and in Joel, and in Joelle, and in Kenneth, and in Alissa, and in others, I am encouraged that, on the contrary, the Lord will be faithful to bring His own alongside Him, and I need not strive and struggle for them, nor will He withhold the fellowship that heartens me in my faith. We serve a God who is characterized by lovingkindness, and he is faithful and just. To Him be glory, majesty, dominion and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen.

The Times, Quickly Becoming a Weekly

Nothing is going on.

I have spoken a lot on the phone with Kenneth, Cannone, Julia and a little with Rob and Jacob. Hung out a bit with Trent, Katie, and the posse this weekend. Played some old songs with Peter for the new girls. Saw the Ballad of Ricky Bobby. Funny, but sadly overrated. Seeya when something noteworthy happens. I shall duly note it.

Collision Collateral

My mood today was largely determined by something that happened January 6th. On that date of this year, someone slammed into the back of the car I was driving, wrecking both the car and my spine.

Today, I was woken by my cell phone. The fellow who is indefinitely babysitting my wrecked car called. He needs a car cover on it before the 10th, which is when his landlord will see it. The car is thrashed.

Midday, I went to my old friend Josh Sikora's wedding reception (the wedding was elsewhere a couple weeks ago). The rest of the day was spent on various odd jobs around the house. I can't begin to explain how shooting low back pain, tight neck muscles, numb hands, and sharp pain between my shoulderblades can slow a fellow down. Just trust me, it was bad today. Afte hours of helping clean our garage, tidying my own room, then poring over documents at the office, the pain is just frustrating. It would be less so, if I thought it would be gone soon.

My band is still looking for time to have a first practice. Tomorrow I will play worship music while my brother leads. Monday, I must find a place to get x-rays. Gotta stop avoiding that.

Nothing Is Going On

But my boss says I'm "churnin' and burnin'," referring to the large volume of work I have been turning in this week. And that, well, that's cool.

Headaches and Merry Hobgoblins

Yesterday I had a headache of migraine proportions. Every sound seemed a thunderclap to me. I left work early, and slept off some of the throbbing and nausea. I woke and lolled about, finishing A Midsummer Night's Dream by dim desklamp. I had picked it up, after intending for months to read it, because a statue of Puck in San Luis Obispo reminded me to. Dougie needs to read it, too; he didn't even know the merry troublemaker Puck at all. Anyway, having finished that, I began One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Gabriel García Márquez. Es muy interesante.

 

Tonight, I intend either:

jugar al fútbol

tocar el guitarra con mi conjunto nuevo

ir a "The Boardwalk" en Santa Cruz con mis amigas, o

hacer nada.