Oh, The Times We Have

Some New Things

2012-01-26T19:10:00.000-08:00

Last night after work I joined Tim at CoSo, where we have spent so many afternoon breaks talking this year. It seems like years ago that I told him about the help wanted status over there. It also seems like years since the Streeters owned that place. That's how long two thousand eleven was. My most well-worn coffee shop went from a completely pagan underdog in city politics to a future Korean sandwich shop with afterthoughts of espresso and a steady stream of Christian clientele.

Now Tim had a starched shirt and one of those felten black overcoats on. Accounts rep at a startup, first day.

We exchanged pleasantries with the still-new owner Jee and her friend about their very good dark-chocolate espresso cookies, while texting sandwich orders to Kaitlin. Then we agreed upon a route and drove across town for John's informal surprise birthday shindig. As it turns out, grocery stores can make good sandwiches, the game Bohnanza is truly an enjoyable pastime for gatherings of friends, and Denogginizer is a markedly hoppy, pleasing beer.

Google to Open Religious Help Center

2012-01-26T15:00:00.000-08:00

"Calendar 'God' did not load. If the problem persists, visit the Help Center." - Google

It Did

2012-01-26T11:01:00.000-08:00

It rained a few days back. Finally.

After last year's messy precipitous ways, I resolved to finally invest in a decent hooked cane umbrella this year. Then autumn two thousand eleven stayed drier than any autumn I've known. So last week's rain was wonderful. Last Sunday night as I puttered, I exited into the cold concrete of the garage, feet well swathed in slipper, to change the laundry. It took me from full motion to complete stop - the gentle roar of rain on rafter and board. I smiled.

But this week's been as dry as ever.

Tedium Nostrum

2012-01-15T21:40:00.000-08:00

Here's the gist: I'm tired of not being done with these blasted law school applications.

Why didn't I do this all in November? I'm tired of reminding myself that there were more pressing things then.

I am tired of repetitive questions about my life. "Has any institution of higher learning ever placed you on warning or probation for academic or disciplinary reasons? If so explain."

These folks don't know me. I am a decent chappie, not the kind to get in fights or use illegal substances or abuse my academic privileges.

Sure, I got a warning once. My study group once arguably risked giving the wrong impression about a brand new college. We didn't do anything wrong; we were a co-ed study group, and we studied till dawn without a chaperone. All we did was frantically study history. That isn't character impeaching in the least, unless you're a pack of home-schooled Christian Right types in the Virginia countryside. No disciplinary action was taken, but yes, there was a warning.

Yes I completely burned out due to inappropriately rigorous coursework during my undergrad years. No, by the numbers it was not pretty. So, yes, I think my scholarship was on some kind of probationary status at that time. But I have a GPA higher than 3.7 at every other college and university I've attended, and roundly elite test scores.

Yes one time I took a Spanish 4 class at community college without being bothered to first take Spanish 1, Spanish 2, or Spanish 3. Yes that meant that my only grade at that school, for a few weeks, was a D. But after a C in Spanish 5 and a B in Spanish 6, and then two years of straight A's, there's no reason to even talk about that passing moment of "academic probation."

So can't we just stop with the questions? Living in the past is so very tedious. I just want to start classes.

The Day the Freeway was Shut Down

2012-01-12T22:10:00.000-08:00

Whenever I watch an action movie, I see the car chases, bank heists, explosions, the sweat trickling down the brow of the star as he negotiates with the desperate bad guys, and think, I wonder, if this is realistic, why we never hear about these kinds of things happening? Such widespread damage and chaos would affect thousands of people's lives. It always reduces the credibility of the film in my mind, and disrupts my suspension of disbelief.

I woke up a little later than I meant to today, got the coffee pot brewing, and hit the shower. I might have hummed to myself or something, but most likely not. It was one of those mornings when a fellow wakes up on the couch, having drifted off late the night before without going to bed. More specifically it was the kind of night when the fellow in question has slept in an awkward posture, so that his old achy neck and shoulder have acted up and now his thumb will be numb all morning, and his shoulder will twitch all day.

Arriving at the office at 9:30 turned out to be a chore in itself. Everyone operating a vehicle on 85 seemed skittish and brake-happy, and there was a line a mile long to exit onto 880 North, halfway to work. I rather expected a huge traffic jam just after the exchange, Murphy being the demon bastard he is, with his law and all that.

No such thing. It was nothing. Turns out it was just a bit of foreshadowing.

Later in the work day, as I was walking papers up and down the halls (let's face it, to the uninitiated, that's sometimes what it looks like I do). Elizabeth mentioned that her dad, an elder at my old church, was in lockdown at the bank. I looked round at her quizzically. Apparently the bank had been robbed.

There have been a rash of bank robberies lately, some affecting our office's ordinary bank branch. As it turns out, this group of robbers had hit the branch of a different bank, where the old church does its banking. I suppose it stinks to be stuck in a bank that is being locked down, but in a sense, it also sounds exciting. I don't ever remember hearing about real bank robberies around here until the last year or so.

I wonder whether it's just due to the economy, but there's another thing. If there is an increase in bank robberies now, I wouldn't be surprised if it's a result of an awakened awareness in men that stolen riches are sweet. That's the way the Bible puts it, and it also includes the consequences. I haven't heard of any females robbing banks, and Dane Cook worded the same concept more palpably by listing it on a short list of things guys would choose over sex. In the sex-crazed, sex-defined post-modern mind, that's remarkable.

Anyway, apparently some of the robbers got away and caused a chase. They wrecked on my route home and there was a bomb scare, so 85 south was closed all afternoon. I didn't have to leave Cupertino till after worship team practice, so I didn't have to worry about it. Still, a bomb scare, bank robbery, a car chase and a closed freeway make me happy. From now on I will be able to take action movies a little more seriously.

Anthems

2011-10-25T09:32:00.000-07:00

Monday, Oct. 24, was a workday set to ludicrous speed. I got things done but I felt as though moving in slow-motion. This song begged to be suggested to the Hillview worship team, and the second item found its way into my wishlist.

Source: amazon.com via Gabe on Pinterest

After work I met up with Tim and Dan for dinner at Rojoz, and then worked editing my client's book manuscript for a while at Sanjay's house, before clocking out in favor of inspired conversation.

Tuesday, Oct. 25, I woke up a little late after co-conspiring with Sanjay and Tim till 2 a.m., working through problems of faith, sin, ministry, and Christ's complete and undivided calling on our lives and hearts. My mind wandered when I got home, after so much heavy thinking, and my guard was a little bit down, and that was enough to go the wrong places in my heart and head for the shortest period of time. How delicate we are, stupid and wandering like sheep, that we can find the highest place and not innately know to just stay there. I fell asleep at 3 a.m. praying for closeness and mercy. I would be so hopeless if I were to fall away from my Savior, but walking with him I am always strong.

Wake late, verses by text from Dan:


Show me your ways, O LORD, 
   teach me your paths; 
guide me in your truth and teach me, 
   for you are God my Savior, 
   and my hope is in you all day long. 
Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love, 
   for they are from of old. 
Remember not the sins of my youth 
   and my rebellious ways; 
according to your love remember me, 
   for you are good, O LORD.
Psalm 25:4-7 (NIV1984)

...and from Sanjay. Both were very encouraging to me. Especially verses from Dan are a wonder. I have spent so long knowing him as someone who reviles God and things of faith, so to see him become a man of faith has been like watching a miracle unfold. The level of humility and commitment he has inadvertently developed, out of nowhere, is heartening.

...and on my way out the door my roommate Trent told me he sent me an awesome email, and that I am going to love it. I was wondering what he could possibly have sent me that would be so delightful. He was right though. [Baseball] plus [my country] plus [Zooey] equals [what a great video!]. The video's focus on inevitable Hall of Fame inductee, baseball superstar, and godly man Albert Pujols was a nice touch too.

Editor's note: the video originally posted here, which is the same one Trent sent me, has been removed from YouTube by the person who originally posted it, so I have removed its empty link. But trust me, Ms. Deschanel did the anthem justice, by singing it in true form and not elaborating on its melody the way many abusive, bungling vocalists commonly do at sporting events.

No Introduction Necessary

2011-10-03T15:04:00.000-07:00

Friday Sept.30, I had planned to work eight hours, but was feeling the bitter tail-end (a man can hope) of this head-cold and arrived late. I had to predict how long the day would be for me, since my pay would be issued before the hours were logged. I said I'd leave at five, forgetting that John Vinci would probably have scheduled the Alumni Board meeting according to the Eastern Standard workday, and disregard mine. Being that this was the board meeting before the Annual Alumni Business Meeting with the general assembly of Alumni at Homecoming festivities, this board meeting was important. We would be announcing the need for a new organizational charter, and that announcement might cause a stir. I clocked out early, and three sixteen, and told myself I'd make it up later.

The Board meeting went well, and my personal concerns about the future financial independence of the Association from the College were heard and roundly agreed upon by everyone except the hedging Mr. Vinci. I spent the evening in a pleasant and somewhat carefree interview with the lovely Miss Spilker, and took in Amelie for the first time.

Saturday Oct.1 brought another teleconference to attend the Annual Business Meeting itself, this time at 6 a.m. I set my speakerphone and listened to people talk while I had coffee, smoked a pipe on the porch in some comfortable old jeans and Levi's thrift-store shirt, and made and consumed two eggs over easy. The first one I neatly cut apart, white from yolk, and took the latter in one bite, the second I entered whole, which was quite rewarding. The meeting was hard to picture, being far away and presumably held in the new building. I did say a piece about the Board's desire to accurately represent the alumni interests as a priority over the college's interests, should they be at odds, but my phone presence had to be interpreted to the audience, and my interpreter badly reworded my point such that I spent the next several days wishing I had not spoken at all. Meetings are hooey, but my morning was beautiful. Had a brief chat with Mrs. Emily Asbenson (née Holmes) about her life now and her husband's choice of law school. It was refreshing to catch up with such a pleasant college acquaintance after several years.

I made my way to work for the remainder of the morning, and through the noon hour making up all the lost time from the day previous. Went home, napped a bit, worked a lot on cleaning and organizing things, and a little on my freelance editing project, a.k.a. the book. A note about cleaning: shoes store well in shoe boxes.

Sunday Oct.2 was my first day at Hillview during their new two-service schedule, representing something of a contained hive-off. The schedule is confusing, but I managed to work a bit more on the book, meet over a late breakfast with the author and Mr. Adcock, my colleague in the project. Leaving our meeting a little while after noon, I attended the sermon by elder Kenrick Devaul, a delightful offering on the first part of St. Paul's second letter to Corinth. Breaking of bread service was also moving. I shared a bit, and commiserated with Mike Broussard and Osh Merjanian, who sat near me.

Lunch consisted of beer and lamb shawerma, and the afternoon I devoted to Miss Spilker. In the evening I felt a pluck of guilt for shirking the new Christian film in theatres, a hokey contrivance entitled Courageous. And Allan texted me "ARE YOU COMING?" So I went. It was edifying, and spending time with Sanjay Krishnaswamy, Dawn Tisdell, Dawson Gilson, of course Allan Kuo, and others over dinner at Denny's afterward was enjoyable.

Monday Oct.3 has been a bit of a gloomy, slow day so far. I have decided I will spend the rest of the week in a work-blitz, night and day, so be surprised if I have much to log between now and next Monday.

|||

More updates to come. Life got more exciting after this.

Dear Phinehas, I'm So Sorry.

2011-02-18T21:58:00.000-08:00

Today the boss was completely preoccupied with philanthropic foundation work. He has a board meeting in Pacific Grove all weekend. Finding very little on my plate that could rightly be called "pressing," I set out to take care of some personal business that has been needing business-hours-only attention.

First, I had a bagel. I had been needing a bite all morning and it was high time.

Then I dropped by the Lee family cleaners and discharged a whole pile of things that have been needing attention. I am quite embarrassed at the state of the collar on my white shirt with the fine green stripes. Atrocious. What will the Lees ever do with me? I suspect they will clean my shirts and graciously say nothing of their natural disgust. It's criminal, I tell you.

Off to home, I there checked my files, and wended away to the DMV office. I hate the DMV, but I like the fact that their website tells me which location has the shortest line. That is a fantastic approach to queueing. I arrived and received absolutely zero helpful information. Even if I had, the effect would have been dubious, as I could barely understand the lady who "helped" me.

Thus equipped, I made my way back home and picked up my IRS files. Clearly I wasn't going to make it back to the office today anyway, so why not try to square away as many things as possible?

It was raining hard at the Alongi Brothers' yard. I almost called Mike Alongi to see if there was any relation, then thought better of it. I hardly had that kind of luck today, and if I had, I would need it for other things.

I was somewhat confused as to what I should do now. I knew my wounded hulk of a car was behind the fence, and that I really didn't want the hassle of having it back in my possession. I recovered my personal belongings and paperwork from the all-too-familiar seat pockets and cubbies, glove compartment and trunk. It was sad seeing how clean my little Honda's seats were, and how useless now. Oil puddled around my loafers in the confused rain runoff. It's not the rain drops' fault they had to fall there, but now they're all soiled. I half-heartedly trudged past the rain, coat pockets full of musty paper and old CDRs, back to the front desk. I shrugged as I signed the ransom papers that would free me from my car and its $55 per-day impound rent, and drove away. I tried to tell myself the Purell was to clean that front office from my fingers, and not to get the sad smell of a loyal old automobile off my guilty hands.

North on Sunol, right on San Carlos, under the bridge, and through downtown, I eventually found 55 South Market Street, where the IRS taxpayer assistance office was apparently holed up in a lonely corner of the fourth floor. I had a few dimes and nickels, and fed them to the metal machine, and ran up the street, up the steps and into the elevator, noting that the other fellow, who had pressed past me, had also pressed the "four" before me. He was was at least twenty years my senior, and dressed shabbily at least fifteen years my junior. His heavy boots, black Dickies trousers, and black hoodie sweatshirt spoke of foodservice, his demeanor spoke of hopelessness, his thinned grey tousle spoke of a missing hat, and his shirt appeared to be the scrubs of a medical worker. I never stopped wondering about him.

I waited in line behind the pushy presser, and was eventually helped by a kindly Ms. Mohammed, who tried in vain to secure my progress past the waiting area, directly into a service window. Unfortunately another fellow complained that he had been waiting, so I took the opportunity to fly back down, find the local branch of my bank, withdraw twenty quarters, and feed the meter. Four minutes wouldn't have been enough parking time, and the three-wheeled snarks would surely have tagged me. Running through the downtown, my loafers slapped the puddles, and my hurried reflection in the big buildings looked oddly confident and savvy, contrasted against my bedraggled taxpayer peers.

The IRS is entirely oppressive. It stands against everything dignified about human life. In a purported effort to assure the quality of the service I received, the management recorded everything my attendant did while I was in her booth. She nervously answered my questions with very official but unrelated unformation, and generally treated me as though I might bite her, or at any moment cause her to be bitten by someone else. This state of affairs not only assured my very poor service, but also completely dehumanized every part of our interaction. It was all I could do not to raise an alarm and revolt right there in that office. God cannot smile upon bureaucracy. It steals our money and steals our souls and when we nicely ask for them back, it gives us empty paperwork for us to fill.

The whole of government are pirates, and never the good kind we see in the movies. They're the bad news you hoped would never come but has - alas - always been here.

First Letter from O'er The Pond

2010-04-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

I've a new pen pal in the UK. Received my first letter in yesterday's post.

Clouds v Sunshine

2010-04-26T15:27:00.001-07:00

Thursday 22
Kings and kingdoms will all pass away
But there's something about that Name.

Friday 23
I had another physical therapy appointment in the morning. My back and neck have improved greatly and I am so thankful for the care of Dr. Choi and co. The healing process after a car accident is such an important thing, and they've really put me back on my feet.

I also had the opportunity to do some freelance work for a potential contract employer; the meeting took place in the afternoon. The meeting was a chess game, two people each sizing up the other, each assessing how the other might make their business more profitable. Unfortunately, some questions of ethics were raised in my mind. We'll see what happens, but I won't compromise my professional integrity for any reason.

Study in the evening was good again, back in 1 Timothy 4, and Hebrews 12 by way of conversational rabbit trails. The ever-genuine Rick DeVaul leading discussion. It's always a wonder to me how meek and strong he can be at the same time, complete with his twinkling eyes and salt & pepper beard. He reminds me of Laura Ingalls Wilder's childhood memoirs concerning her father. God wants this to be my credo and modus operandi for the time being. (Well, actually Christ is technically the credo. Anyway.)

Saturday 24
Got up a little earlier than I wanted, and put on my grey suit and that purple J.Crew tie I've been meaning to wear someday. I like to look sharp at a wedding; in retrospect I should have just chopped my beard off and gotten a haircut. But none of that is important. The wedding was important. For those of you who don't know my best-female-friend Christina (formerly) Yakel and my Bible-study buddy Jeremy Walker, this was the equivalent of Jim and Pam finally getting married. Since Jer is from FBC and Christina is from HBC, of course all the Fairhaven guys were there, and most of the Hillview friends and most of Martha and the Chores, so we were critiquing the wedding band the whole time, taking notes for our own debut at the DeVaul wedding in June. We are all anxious not to biff our first wedding. It goes without saying that Christina was beautiful in her golden tresses and pure-white gown, Jer more fun than ever stalking his long, tall tuxedo around the reception, and both of them full of charisma and sparkle. The succinct service and bubbly reception were truly celebratory, and all of us worked up a healthy glow, dancing and singing our exultation.

Sunday 25
Hillview's German intern Tobi preached at Grace on Sunday, and his natural earnestness complemented well the slim boyish carriage and warm coloration so common in young German scholarly types. He is truly a sincere seeker of Christ and I am grateful to have gained a friend in him, as I think he is exactly what he appears to be, and will continue to be of humble and solid repute, a man worth knowing and by whom to be sharpened. He preached on the importance of sharing Christ with people who need him, an echo of Friday night's study taught by Rick, and the tears in D.L. Moody's view of the world.

Martha and the Chores practice was a little lame-o in some respects, but it was refreshing to have Peter shoulder some of the responsibility for the practice. Still everyone kept coming to me instead of him with questions, though. All things considered, we have a way to go before we're kings and queens of R&B, so I anticipate a few more weeks of rough going. I do wish the bride had requested a little more Nat King Cole and a bit less Bebe & Cece Winans. :P

Monday 26
Since I don't think stealing Zooey Deschanel's heart is a realistic plan, I'm keepin' my eye out for someone who could sing me this song. It's been stuck in my head for weeks.

It doesn't get better than home,
now, does it?

She would never have to sing me this song, even though it's cute as anything:

Stopped by my parents' house after work for a bite, a chat, and some family prayer time. It was pleasant. Lately prayer has been a necessary release valve more than any kind of discipline for which I might take credit.

I Know No Other Stand

2010-04-22T10:23:00.000-07:00

I have been distracted somewhat by the beginning of baseball season. There is a romance to the idea of the ballgame, for me. I don't have the same feelings about other major sports such as football, or basketball, or even my own soccer. I also recognize the timelessness of some sporting pastimes such as tennis or golf, but usually saw them as white privilege sports, which is a turnoff for me. But baseball is the old fashioned American Pastime, the iconography of childhood bubble-gum trading cards; it's the province of DiMaggio and the Babe, the same dust stirred by the prodigious cleats of Rollie Fingers and Willie Mays. There is nothing that compares to the tension as a pitcher works all the muscles of his body, and all the finesse in his fingertips, to bend the path of a projectile with pinpoint accuracy through the air around the swinging bat of a formidable opponent. Fine-tuned skill is pitted against fine-tuned skill for the pride of two American towns.

Andre "The Hawk" Dawson! The (erstwhile) Montreal Expos of the 1980's! Looking at this picture makes me feel like I am five years old again, in a good way.

Wednesday 14
Finished my taxes. I can't wait to get a little back this year. But next year I am determined to do them in February.

Thursday 15
After work I had been invited to come spend some time with Asher up in the hills where he was house-sitting for his boss the fire chief. Hot tub plus steaks and beer at a hill-folk fireman's house made it the most blue-collar guy-time I've had in a while, just brother Peter and old pal Asher. I called Ramsey and Jared but neither of them could go. Asher has been living in a bubble up there in the hills, away from everything. I haven't seen him much since the days we all used to go to college Bible study, perhaps three years ago now. After his breakup he just sorta receded into the hills and doesn't often drive down into town. It has been bad for his redneck complex, but he's still a man of solid character, and a trustworthy friend, which both make him good company.

Friday 16
Ashley (friend and band vocalist), called to let me know she couldn't go with the band to the college ministry Summit this year. Baby, husband, etc. That's a bit of a blow to Martha and the Chores, but we'll manage fine. It was doubtless the right choice. She'll still be singing with us in the wedding. The question raised in that conversation was whether the ever-improving MATC should begin to work more like a real band a less like a once- or twice-annual worship project. We agreed that nearly everyone in the band seems to be on-board for a higher commitment level. Friday night study was excellent conversation on the topic of godliness, in the context of 1 Timothy 4, devolving into a review of the basic gospel message. Really a refreshing time.

Saturday 17
Sunny and warm are new favorites of mine. Trent and I met Daniel Lee at the high school and played pick-up basketball. It was luxuriously healthy to get the exercise without the "hamster wheel" feeling of the rainy day gym. I got a light sunburn, of which I was proud. Family time at my parents' house in the evening to watch an old 1970's sermon by Nicky Cruz.

Sunday 18
Church was nice. The sermon was by the energetic young dad from Texas, Brady, who will be the Summit guest speaker this year. He asked us all to stand and sing my favorite hymn, Immanuel's Land, at the end of the sermon (lyrics at the conclusion of this post). Went home again and chatted with mom over PB&J. I love seeing (our yellow lab) Jude when I go home, and looking at the Cecil Brunner and blackberries intertwining in the sun. Band meeting and practice was more organized than usual, and went well. We've also, to the delight of all, been asked to add "When I'm 64" to the wedding song-list. That made my weekend.

Monday 19
Doctor check-up in the morning. He said I should keep receiving physical therapy a bit longer, and gave me a little immune system advice. Spent part of the day working and part of the day catching up on schoolwork. It's nice when the boss is out of town because I can work whatever hours I want. My suspicions were confirmed, upon looking over the grades; it doesn't appear I am on an "A" pace. Unacceptable! :/

Tuesday 20
Made an appointment with a potential client. Am happy with the prospect.

Wednesday 21
Physical therapy in the morning, work, then class in the afternoon. I discussed MEChA with one of my classmates. I had expressed some interest in attending MEChA meetings with some of my Chicano friends from SJSU, not so much because I agree with the policy positions of the group (in fact I quite disagree with most of their tact and ideology), but because I sympathize with some of their concerns and want to reach out to the Latin community in general when I can. I don't know if I'll go, however. I am not sure people in that group are about anything more than ethnic pride and Progressive politics, both of which I believe to be very insidious and harmful. In the evening Trent and I drove downtown to the Mini Gourmet, and met Peter, Phi, and DMV there, and they had brought an old acquaintance along in Bekka Bjorke. It was a fun evening, though sometimes the contrast of open-hearted Christians on one side of the table, against the aimless foulness of the utterly worldly on the other, is somewhat awkward. I wish I could get rid of their perception of my/our self-righteousness (in that I believe in truth and defend it) and just see the Jesus I see.

{ end }

Immanuel's Land

O Christ, He is the fountain, The deep, deep well of love,

The streams on earth I've tasted, More deep I'll drink above,

There to an ocean fullness, His mercy doth expand,

And glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel's land.

With mercy and with judgment My web of time He wove,

And aye the dews of sorrow were lustred with His love,

I'll bless the hand that guided, I'll bless the heart that planned,

When throned where glory dwelleth, in Immanuel's land.

O! I am my Beloved’s And my Beloved’s mine!

He brings a poor vile sinner Into His “house of wine.”

I stand upon His merit, I know no other stand,

Not even where glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.

The Bride eyes not her garments, but her dear Bridegroom’s face;

I will not gaze at glory but on my King of Grace.

Not at the crown He giveth, But on His pierced hand;

The Lamb is all the glory of Immanuel’s land.

Moxy, The Proper Working Chair, and Lock-Picking

2010-04-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

Monday 5
Sick day. Called in and the folks at the office agreed I should stay out. Wish I could say I did much with the free time, but I was ill. I stayed in, poked more at that video game, cleaned a bit, and laundered some necessaries, all with an ennui to do a snail proud. Primarily I slept a lot.

Called in to catch the boss before he left town. He thanked me for calling and relayed some skeletal instructions for the next couple of weeks. I reckon I can stretch it into two weeks' work.

n Aside:
Brandini, Adrift
My housemate Matt had some paperwork problems renewing his EMT license, so he is out of work for a week and a half waiting for the papers to clear. Its funny, even though everyone knows its just a formality, and he hasn't lost his job, he can't work until it comes through. So, as a result, we have both been strewn around at home. (I mean "strewn" in the least literal way. This living situation remains, even as a sick-house, the most pleasantly clean men's living quarters in which I have ever had the privilege of taking part.) He also has a cold, though not like my gunk, but is an incorrigible home-body, so he is reliably present at all hours for the next week or two.

Tuesday 6
I felt a good deal more energetic and the sun was out for once, but I still had the gunk and hadn't been cleared to work, so I started tackling things around the house more. I did a copious amount of laundry and some homework and reading, gave the lawn a close cropping and cleared some weeds out of the cracks in the sidewalk.

I don't really remember the whole day because it wasn't that memorable. Being away from work made me not want to do anything. By the end of the day my facebook status read:

I AM REALLY TIRED OF BEING SICK, STUCK AT HOME. Doctor appt. in the morning to find out what the heck is wrong with me.

Wednesday 7
Had an appointment with a Dr. Sullivan, ophthalmologist, about my eyes. Of course, by then they'd cleared up some. I liked his deportment and manner as much as I liked his name and the sense of humor I'd heard floating down the hall. He came highly recommended, and that clearly was because J. Sullivan, M.D., is highly recommendable. He happened to have a dropper-bottle of just the stuff I needed, Vigamox ("moxifloxacin hcl" is more fun to say) already sitting on his desk, so I walked away having paid only a $20 co-pay and no more. (I wrote an anecdote from this morning continued here. I got a lump in my throat when I was writing it. Yes, I am an intolerable sap.)

After being useless for two days, I was quite happy to be back at the office. I couldn't believe, logging in, that my time-card was really blank since the 2nd. Blah.

Someone left the perfect office chair out for free on the curb. I couldn't believe it. Yes, it's a mite rusty and dusty, but I cleaned it up and had all the parts moving soon. I just can't believe I was able to find just the thing. Now if only I could find a proper desk.

As I left the office I got a phone call from Jerry Brinson, an old Louisville friend with whom I had been feeling guilty about falling out of touch. We talked local politics and campaigns, and he told me the usual stories (in full technicolor cussing) in his heavily drawling middle-aged way, and explained how he had his seventh grandchild on the way now. I was so happy to hear from him, I could bust. I really ought to be praying for Jerry and Delois' family more.

Thursday 8
Went to my parents' place for dinner after work. On my way there Rob Evans, another old Louisville buddy who now lives in Atlanta, called me up. I was bummed out I could only talk for a couple of minutes. He's another guy I've been meaning to pray for, and catch up with. I haven't done that since a couple years ago after I visited.

I finished the leftover ham at my parents' house, THEN found out that they're completely broke and trying to figure out how to pay the mortgage this month. I think I would have eaten half the amount if I'd known. Sometimes I wonder about people who complain about the economy, if they really know what it's like to rely on God for money. You end up worrying a bit more but complaining a bit less. There is no reason in the world my dad shouldn't be paid, and there's also no money in the company that was employing him. What's a man to do? As kids I know we were lucky to have parents who even had a mortgage to pay. But many times growing up we ate and wore that mortgage. It makes one grateful for anything.

Friday 9

I didn't quite finish the homework due at 11:00 AM. I don't know why I hadn't done it sooner.
I also couldn't find the ol' moxifloxacin, the bottle of which is just too small. They ought to package it in a large, bright-red ball that you can't possibly misplace.
I left for work in a rush, and realized halfway there that I'd left my phone.

It became clear that I was in the midst of a productivity downswing, a recurring pendulum-type thing just irregular enough that it can't be foreseen and calendared. It is characterized by a dratted absent-mindedness and mild physical clumsiness. I clearly need a return to method.

Went by home for a few minutes to pick up my moxy. Mom had some scriptures to share with me. Then I went to SaltWorks' Friday night study for the first time. I think I may have mentioned before that my friend Jared is going to start getting some much-needed fellowship there regularly, and I want to encourage him in that. Also a lot of my friends (read: members of Martha and The Chores) are involved in it. So, while I had forsworn "college ministry" activities, I may get involved there.

Saturday 10 - Monday 12

These days went by without much event of note, aside from the following. Saturday I cleaned a lot and cooked a mess of food so I will have something to eat. I made my brown ale meat-sauce angel-hair pasta. Matt liked that. I also got out the car cover for my wrecked Accord, since I decided to keep it and "part it out" to recoup some of its value. Of course, I don't want a wreck on my curb, so the car cover was the ideal solution. But it was locked, and the key missing. I felt very satisfied with myself for researching and picking the lock. The feeling of the barrel turning and the hasp opening was the feeling of conquest.

Sunday night's Martha and The Chores practice went well; we adopted two new (to us) songs, in Be Exalted and He is Jehovah. Our versions sound a good deal less corny than the linked recordings.

Spring Broken

2010-04-07T00:42:00.000-07:00

Monday 29
How to return down the mountain? That's always the trouble. To be back at work, sore muscles and all, after a weekend of generally wholesome interactions, was anticlimactic. I found myself drifting through my various undertakings at the office as though under the influence of spiritual Novocaine. Took a few minutes mid-morning to call Oregon's Hood River Circuit Court and pay my traffic fine. The clerk graciously reduced it by about $50. I also got a call from Paul around 8:30. He still refuses to get a cellular phone, so the number is always strange, but I picked up immediately on the hunch it was him. When two connoisseurs of the conversational art meet in witty banter, there really is nothing like it. If good friends, they may resume at any time, in almost any humor, on any topic, with equal ebullience. It matters not how much time passes between.

Tuesday 30
Work was productive and generally carefree. Saw Dr. Choi again for more physical therapy. I'd say it's helping. My neck, back and shoulder pain have gone down significantly since the traffic inconvenience. Definitely coming down with some sort of bug. By the evening it felt like I had a fever, and a soreness had developed in the throat and lower nasal passages.

Wednesday 31
Too sick to go to work. Woke up with a fever, prohibitive head and chest congestion, and a deep cough. Slept it off all day.

Thursday, April 1
I Supposed I was well enough, and past the worst of it, as the fever seemed to have broken. Things at the office were somewhat slow, but there was enough for me to do.

April Fools was mostly uneventful except for a few jokes among online friends at Xanga. My participation received kind raves from some of the who's who of the Xanga community.

“...you win April Fools.”
-GreekPhysique

“You are great”
-trunthepaige

“Full of win”
-Paul_Partisan

“...nice touch.”
-TheTheologiansCafe

“I bow before you”
-La_Chose_en_Soi

“...now this was funny.”
-TheBigShowAtUD

Tiny came over in the evening, ignoring my caveats of illness, and I watched the eighth and ninth installments of Band of Brothers with him. All the rest of us finished our most recent viewing of it a while ago, so he's trying to catch up.

Chapter nine is the heart-wrenching episode entitled "Why We Fight." It's hard to imagine being a comparatively sheltered 1940's soldier, having never heard of a Nazi concentration camp, and getting an impromptu history lesson by witnessing the atrocity first-hand. It never fails; I always weep watching this portrayal. The men who wrote, produced, directed, and acted for this miniseries were geniuses. We saved the last episode for later.

Friday 2
Physical therapy involved some painful massage sessions on the injured areas. I like the masseuse, a large, middle-aged woman who is an amiable Catholic, a San Jose Sharks fan, and a classically-trained opera singer. Given my own background in choral music, arias, and being myself a passive Sharks fan, I enjoy her company and conversation. The day was rather pleasant at work barring sickness, and overlooking the mild office-politics fire I inadvertently started. I was missed in the morning, as I'd forgotten to inform my office of my longer appointment, and had to apologize for my negligence.

I'd intended to accompany Jared to Hillview's Friday night college-group Bible study. I don't usually go to college-group functions anymore, but I think Jared's had a hard time finding regular fellowship since he left Grace, and I want to cheer him on. I didn't feel up to it at all, and spent Friday night in bed. I promised him and the others (most of Martha and The Chores goes to Hillview) I would go next week.

Saturday 3
Woke up with some kind of stuff in my eyes. It seems my cold had progressed through my sinuses into my eyes, where it produced an intense conjunctivitis. My eyes were a deep, evil red and had begun to itch and weep. I tried to putter around and do things but I felt too sick and ended up just vegetating, reading and half-heartedly trying to enjoy a humorous video game. I am not sure how my roommates can stand to spend so many hours of their lives on that Xbox. The whole day was an enormous pile of yuck.

Well, yes, yuck. But there was also sunshine, and softly singing cloud patterns.

Sunday 4
Awoke ill and oozy, discovering that my lungs and windpipe had been gently run over by a truck. I must have spent the entire night coughing in my sleep. My eyes were less red, but now the cough increased its virulence, and a daresay I would have been a nuisance if I had joined any Easter fellowship. It was disheartening to miss Easter Sunday services, and to be out of fellowship on another consecutive Sunday. All the legalistic types at my church have now probably taken me for an apostate if they hadn't already, those squirrelly scoundrels. No matter; you can never please them anyhow; I think nothing ever does.

I was more taken aback to be uninvited from the family Easter dinner! I'd worked hard to conceal my excitement at the prospect of taking my tired frame back to home's nurturing arms, and the mere thought of the good clamor Mom would certainly be raising in the kitchen warmed my poor bachelor's heart. But it was not to be. They didn't want my germs, and I don't blame them. Such is the life of the roving independent male of the species.

As a consolation, Mom and Dad dropped by later with a brown paper sack full of chamomile tea, cough suppressant, eye drops, orange juice, and other such balms, and a separate bag with what would have been my first and second helpings from the Easter table.

Believe me when I tell you, the spoils were nothing short of the most succulent and crumbling varieties of culinary bliss. Mom's pineapple and dark-cherry ham is unparalleled, and melts in the mouth. Her poppy-seed cake is scrumptious and glazed in heavenliness. Her whole palette brimmed with fresh strawberries and spinach leaves, steamed asparagus and small potatoes with chives and sour cream. My parents were concerned at my red eyes, obvious fatigue, and congestion; they didn't stay long, but urged me to see a doctor soon.

I canceled what small band practice we could have had. Multiple members would be absent due to the holiday, and I didn't feel equal to the remaining challenge. It just didn't seem worth the hassle. I disinfected everything I had touched and called it a night.

Anticipating Letters O'er The Pond

2010-03-30T21:15:00.000-07:00

It appears I will have a pen pal from the UK. I don't know anything about the person. I must decide whether to use a pseudonym. I think I shall simply write as Gabe.

Also, I just simply love this illustration. The maps, the desks, the attractive and moderate style of the clothing, the striking colors and detail all draw the eye. But the character development, in the postures and the faces of the young man and the young woman, that ultimately what make it compelling. It's been sitting on my hard drive for a while, and I can't say where I got it, but it was most likely from Today's Inspiration.

Homesuppin' and a Christian Bachelor Party

2010-03-29T19:29:00.000-07:00

Thursday 25

As much as I wanted to get some things done at home, and be a crotchety little loner, I realized that my own need for intimate society paralleled that of the tone in my parents' pleas that I come over for a little dinner. Even though my brother is still at home, he is rarely there bodily, and even scarcer in attentiveness, as he is often mentally consumed by various outside undertakings even while physically present. As the passage of time (and the increase in my hunger) was inversely proportional to my desire to cook that mess of something I'd been meaning to cook, I conceded and drove to my parents' place for some chicken, roast apples, brown rice, and fellowship. Went home with every intention of going to sleep early, didn't fall asleep till 1:30. C'est la vie.

Friday 26

Woke up and went to the chiropractor's office for a physical therapy session, then headed to work. Work was happily busy, and afterward I posted some new things to my music blog before heading home to throw some things in a bag and commuting over to the Jeremys' house. There I met Jer Cooper and Mike Shaddle, and we packed up his raised Jeep Cherokee. After a bit of Chipotle and stopping for gas, we headed out. Conversation on the way up was good and deep. Jer and I postulated on being sin and righteousness, being Christian singles and preparing for eventual godly marriages, while Mike added observations from the perspective of a married peer. It was a good long conversation in which all three of us took turns, and it lasted us almost all the way up to Tahoe. We greeted some of the other guys who had already arrived for Jer Walker's bachelor weekend, including best man Josh Walker and Jer's UCD roommate Tim Ingrum. Stayed up watching Arrested Development Season One.

Saturday 27

Rose mid-morning to waffles and staggered Bible time. Finding that the tennis courts were closed and without nets, we proceeded to the outdoor basketball courts in the cold and played for three hours. We played four games, and oddly enough my shots were hitting, so I was on the winning team twice. We all had to stop and gasp for breath occasionally, as the icy, thinned mountain air clutched our lungs with its numbing talons. The thin sunlight soon forced us to doff our tees. It felt like summer in the midst of winter, getting a sunburn on the blacktop with snow in the hedges. The UV-rays and fresh air were revelatory to my hibernating skin. My greatest regret is that I played in my Chuck Taylor sneakers, which, classic casual chic or no, have not been considered proper sporting equipment since the 1960's. I discovered the reason for their obsolescence; I did sense the hot-spots but played through them, so by the end of the game I had blistered badly on the balls of both feet.

Later in the day we went to Fire+Ice for a perfect guy lunch: all-all-you-can-eat American food, cooked Mongolian barbecue-style. The group wandered about for a bit, myself hobbling like an old man, trying to find a place to buy a new game of Risk and some cigars.

We found the requisite tobacco but had no such luck with the Risk, instead opting to watch a matinee of Cop-Out after we were done being distracted by a parade. As much as I wanted to love a Tracy Morgan/Bruce Willis flic, it did not rise above the level of "generic guy movie" or "blatant Tracy Morgan antics vehicle" at any point, and most of us simply laughed at how bad the film was.

After the movies we went to some casinos, which were far less classy than I would have liked. For some reason I anticipated a crowd of nicely dressed, simpering moneyed sorts exchanging laughs and small-talk over sly gambler glances, amid the tinkle of champagne running over crystal. In general it just looked like a dark video arcade for grownups, with claustrophobic rooms, ugly, cheap, brightly colored carpet that crept up the walls to the ceilings, and dingy lights half-heartedly flashing everywhere.

A pack of tattooed, alcoholic d-bag types hung around with the occasional overly made-up woman. Cigarette staleness was everywhere. These women would probably have been more attractive in a different setting, with more becoming attire and less makeup, and a different outlook on life. But as is, they were instead instead quite unattractively beer-swooning and yelling at the big-screen UFC fighters. "BREAK'IZ AAAARM! BREAK HISZ ARRMMMmmm. Awww," they'd fade, going into a dissatisfied murmur of disappointment when sportsmanship was not in fact thrown to the wind in this particular televised match.

We spent an hour or so pumping quarters into a machine that makes plastic horses rattle awkwardly around a fuzzy miniature racetrack, while grossly cleavage-burdened, tired-looking women brought us cheap beers. After watching Jer Walker quietly turn $30 into $60 at the blackjack table, we exited, all underwhelmed, and drove back to the cabin, exhausted. Over pizza we watched The Hangover, during which hilarity I fell soundly asleep without realizing I was doing so.

Sunday 28

Woke nine-ish, had a little quiet time in 2 Samuel, since we'll be studying that this coming Saturday. Jer Walker did too, so we chatted a bit about how remarkable these stories were, at the beginning of David's reign, when he finally had the power to demand that they bring his wife back to him, who had been given away to another man, and how that man followed her all the way back weeping for her. Who does one pity? Both men had been wronged perhaps. I wonder that so little is said about her own feelings in the matter.

After another waffle-coffee breakfast, those of us who had fallen asleep finished the movie, and then cleaned the cabin. Cleaning the cabin was much more rewarding than finishing the movie, which was really only funny in flashes. But the cabin soon looked orderly and grateful, and shone a bit in the spring mid-morning. I cleaned the musty 70's bathroom, shaking out brown and yellow shag rugs that clearly had never been disturbed at any time in the last two decades. We packed and left, the Jeremys, Josh, and Mike for the slopes, and the rest of us home to our various responsibilities.

Tim, Karl Albright, Jay Adams, Robert Brown and I rode back together, chatting about various theological and political subjects of interest, and also concerning the mysterious, nuanced motivations behind the decision of some elderly to sell all in favor of RV living. Robert asked a good deal of questions about my own home church at Grace, which as usual I found hard to describe without sounding negative. But I think I succeeded in communicating some of the personality and ministry dilemmas without criminalizing anyone, which was a relief. It's especially hard to try to answer questions about why Beck and the other elder left recently, because I really don't know for sure. I only have guesses, and the truth is probably a good deal less dramatic than some curious types would probably like.

On arriving home I showered all the weekend away, nursing my sore muscles and blistered feet, and prepared for worship practice, which went relatively well again. Looks like we'll be ready for Summit, but I'll get more organized yet.

Chores and Chums

2010-03-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

Sunday 21
Late Saturday night and back pain were enough excuse for my body to sleep through the alarm. Was mildly frustrated at not having gone to church. Spent a good part of the afternoon enjoying the sun and working in the yard. My war against the crab grass and weeds wages on, but in general things look a good deal better and less winter-scraggly now, which is rewarding.

The neighbor Michelle told me, very kindly, that I might get a traffic ticket if I park the wrong direction by the sidewalk in front of my house. However draconian the regulation, I am happy she told me.

Evening worship (Martha and the Chores) practice went generally well. Beth "Keybeth" Drew found she enjoys helping lead songs with a mic, so I think I will switch to keyboard on several songs this year. It has been a long time since I tickled the ivories much and I am happy for the chance to pretend at versatility.

Monday 22
Mild excitement at the office over the news my boss has a broken collarbone. Seems he will be out for a couple of days. Very unexpected development.

After work and class I dropped by the hardware store as quickly as possible and got my ammunition: crab grass and weed killer. Arrived home well before dark, changed into my old jeans, ancient Patrick Henry College Soccer long-sleeve tee, destroyed, decade-old Chucks, and yellow rubber gloves. Slight setback in that my quality-concerned roommate Matt had bought a new awesome hose sprayer nozzle that nevertheless does not have a male threading on it, so I had to go dig up the landlord's old busted sprayer head and hook it to the hose and my bottle of mild herbicide. Having carpet bombed the whole lawn with my weaponry, I went to work tackling the next problem.

Peter had been over the night before and woke up the next morning sick as a dog. So I disinfected the door-handles and knobs, and the remote, and a few other things. After that I hit up ol' Trader Joe's, had some beans and rice and a Redpop and called it a day.

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Tuesday 23
Went for physical therapy in the morning, worked, and went home to try to do a few things. Ended up letting Mom talk me into coming over for a family round of Ticket to Ride. Apparently Pete's feeling better.

Wednesday 24
Work, class. Got my exam back, marked 52 out of 50. Not bad.

Went home and met my neighbor/pal Ramsey Rhodes for coffee and discussions about God, among other things, which I think went well. Martha and the Chores and my roommates were meeting for burgers and then heading back to Preston & Ashley Langdon's house for dessert, but Ramsey and I talked for a long time, so I just met them for the second half. We bantered and laughed for hours till we glowed.

Auto, Beck, Drinks, Bible, Baseball, & Office Style

2010-03-23T19:46:00.000-07:00

Wednesday 17
Worked. Had forgotten all about St. Pat's, so no green. I love my protestant types, but I find it mildly annoying they always de-emphasize that one. (I wonder if they celebrate that in England?) went to class.There is no set of words in my mind proper to the task of describing how I feel, brisking my way across that University campus twice a week. But, and this is perplexing, it's decidedly un-medical.

Went home and put on a green shirt (yes the green-shirt) and some shorts because it's been so happily warm.

Was thrilled to go drop a cheque by Mike's house to pay for my new car. It's hardly new but it will do for "new" in my world. It's a silver 1997 Acura CL 2.2, which has a sun roof, great sound, and motorized leather seats, all of which make me feel significantly upgraded, but also like I am one step closer to being the perfect old man. Downsides: two-door, automatic transmission. Sigh. I am determined to once again own a manual transmission vehicle within the next few years, but we shall see.

I dropped Mike a few hundred extra for all his troubles. I'm sure it cost him almost that much to hang on to that car while I was trying to decide whether to buy it, and I think he needs it a good deal more than I do. Besides, I may have decimated a chunk of savings, but I'm still debt-free, so I want a Dave Ramsey merit badge or something. I ain't braggin'. Well, okay yes I am.

Went to Beck and Heather's house with Trent and Peter. We looked at old photos of the glory days in college ministry when we all used to be at their old house every week, and the pictures of the trips to Italy and Romania, Mexico and the snow. It's funny how much their family glows. They always ask me to play a couple worship songs, and somehow I don't mind being put on the spot to do that when I'm with them. It's just a privilege to know people so sincere, genuine, serious, cheery and loving.

We fellows went back to my place afterward and each had a spot of black beer and Bailey's over conversation. None of us were quite sure what to do with the Irish Cream, and were surprised to find how sugary it is. I have a hard time imagining how anyone could ever drink that stuff straight.

Thursday 18
Workaday. Felt a mite dehydrated. Note to self: drink water when imbibing alcohol. Boss has horrible habit of leaning directly over me while pointing at the screen of my computer to indicate changes he wants. He has always done this, but lately he has done it much more. He also spits a bit when he talks, and he does not provide a towel. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that he is incredibly good at what he does. It just changes my comfort level. The main thing I do protest is when he approaches the screen with the business end of a pencil. No, boss, no! Bad boss!

Had promised old Vaccerelli we'd come visit San Francisco Thursday night. Tiny (Tim Nichols) came along, and we prayed before we got there and prayed after we left. A few drinks, a moment or two of serious metaphysical conversations mixed with amazing juke tunes and Phi-brand company. Good times in general. But we got back so late. I really need to get back to my 10pm drop-dead bed time.

Friday 19
Nothing really happened. Went to work, came home, worked on Bible study and homework, went to bed on time, etc. Had an outburst of poetic creativity for about a half hour toward the end of the day. It will publish tomorrow on The Tortoise Initiative.

Saturday 20
Got up at five, finished Bible study stuff, worked on draft preparation for Matt's dynasty league.

Drove the 45 minutes to Fremont, got there by 8, went to pick up pastries and coffee for the guys. Studied I Samuel till a little after noon. I think Erich Wieger, our Bible study leader, is a genius.

I think I drafted well. It was rather frantic because the Jeremys' (Walker and Cooper) internet was down, so I had to use the neighbor's wireless signal, which was weak. I lost connection every five minutes or so for the entire two-hour draft. Jeremy (Purves, who was at home in Modesto) took his turns slowly whenever I appeared to have left the draft, to try to buy me time to reconnect. Actually in retrospect it is hilarious, but at the time it was really frustrating, and I must have looked very comically flustered with that laptop, couched with an intense look on my face.

Went over to Tiny's house to consult with him about his growing "office worker" career. We discussed a possible website design and marketing strategies, which his employer badly needs, and also wardrobe. It really was fun to go through his shirts and explain which ones were dress shirts, and which ones were certainly not, and why. Then we had a lesson in pressing the shirts, and how to use starch. There were a lot of "whys" that I had never thought about and it was fun. His mother seemed amused at the whole process. We didn't get around to pants, or tying ties, or the fact that the six ties he has are terrible 90's and 70's crimes.

I went with Tiny and BJ (his brother) to see Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland, which was an awfully dirty disappointment and too expensive. Note to self: never pay four dollars for a hot dog again, especially if they are out of relish.

Various Joyous Boredoms

2010-03-19T14:22:00.000-07:00

Friday 12.

Marooned. Drove across town to meet a fellow and look at the car he listed on Craigslist. Mike Alongi left me in his debt by driving across town from a different direction to give a second opinion. It was a maroon-colored 1993 Honda Accord four-door, two years newer than the one I had, with fewer miles. The owner listed it for $2500, which was a good amount for a high quality car of that age and mileage, so it was likely to be in pretty good shape. I was a little worried because the listing only showed one photograph of the passenger side of the car. It was also on the east side of town. I got there a bit before Mike or the owner did, and stepped out in the suburban drizzle to look at the car. As I walked toward it, I could see the passenger side, and it looked good. Toward the rear of the car, however, my heart began to sink. The back window had a Raiders sticker in the lower right-hand corner. I thought, well, I could scrape that off. But then I saw the blunt puncture damage below and to the left of the rear license plate in the trunk lid. Bad news. The trunk didn't seal properly. Looked like it had been badly repaired from a collision, and the listing had said it had a clean record! But then my mood changed entirely as I rounded the corner of the rear driver's side. All the doors and the fender on the left side of the car were black, and ill-fitting and dented. All the windows were rolled down... in the rain. I didn't bother to stay and wait for the owner, and I managed to intercept Mike before he got there, and take him out to lunch as a thank you for participating in my wild-goose chase. The owner of the car never called me to ask where I was. I think he must not have showed at all, or knew why I didn't show.

#RUBBERBANDFIGHT I tried to start a "rubberbandfight" hash on Twitter. Being that I am an amateur of the tweet, I think I should have put more thought into how such a thing might be accomplished. Almost no-one participated in shooting imaginary rubberbands at each other, which surprised me. I even tried to get Conan O'Brien's Twitter account to do it, but no. Most of my friends didn't jump in either. Only Quell returned fire. Note to self: two points for Quell.

As an unexpected positive externality to the failed rubberband fight on Twitter, a small rubberband skirmish broke out on my Facebook page, predictably, between people who had been at the wedding, including the Grove girls and Andrew's sister Sarah. Note to self: points for Lisa, Karena, and Sarah.

Saturday 13.

Saturday morning Bible study with the Fairhaven guys was canceled, so I stayed home and studied after the 6:00 AM fantasy baseball draft for my college chum Jeremy Purves' "Hitting the Bottle League." (I won the championship in 2008, but in 2010 I don't expect to even match the 3rd place ranking I achieved last year.)

Saturday night we caught up with the old "college group" crowd at Grace McCarthy and Katie Lanet's apartment. Trent couldn't come, which is just as well since Katie's new boyfriend Steven Pinheiro was there. But Peter came, as did Faith, and the girls' childhood friend Danni was there with her then-boyfriend, now-husband Sheldon, along with his pal Matt Ehlers. A good time was had goofing around with the newer guys, and overall it was a fun reunion and minimally awkward. Amid the highlights of the evening, such as our raucous rounds of Taboo, Matt and I discussed fantasy baseball and I agreed to sign on with his dynasty league. I think I will only be in two leagues this year.

Sunday 14.

Troubadour: Church, Churched, Was Churching, Have Churched, Had Churched, Will Church, Will Have Churched Helped Mike Alongi with worship music on Sunday. I was approached by a couple people afterward who said it sounded very nice, clearly with the added, emphatic, "you should come back next week." There was a very transparent concern among some of these folks, who are seasonal interns at our church and don't know all the history, that maybe I don't consistently come to church because there's something wrong. Who knows what they think? Backslider and without accountability? Maybe just a loner?

It makes me feel like their concerns are a little silly. I need God's grace like any other creation, but by that grace I persist, and am not less joyful or diligent for missing home-church fellowship occasionally. I tend to be there at church two Sundays a month, then out of town somewhere else one weekend a month, leaving the fourth Sunday of any given month to either help out in Oakland where my parents minister, sleep in and say heck with it, or visit somewhere else. Four weeks prior I slept in, and only went to the worship service, and had to leave promptly afterward. The next Sunday I was visiting friends in the East Bay and attended Fairhaven. Two weeks back I had attended the starved little Romanian church where my parents minister in Oakland, and helped with music. One week prior I was in Oregon, and now I was back home at Grace Bible Chapel.

An oddity about Grace is that if you don't go to the Breaking of Bread service at 9 O'Clock every week, people think you've left the church, and they feel bad, but they don't call to see what's up. They just give you quizzically concerned looks when you do inevitably reappear after your one- or two- (or in this case three-)week hiatus. The thing about that service is that it has changed. It used to be alive, but a lot of people have left, and it feels like a ritual, a formality. So I have not made it as much the priority as used to be my wont. I miss it, but thus far, attending the dead-wood versions of the last year-and-a-half hasn't brought it back yet.

Practice with Martha and the Chores, the current name of the ever-slightly changing lineup formerly known as the Summit Worship Band and the Fracehavenview Worship Band, was frustratingly bad. But practices have been so good most weeks, as we get ready for Summit and for John and Kaitlyn's June wedding, that one bad week will be okay. Tessa Devaul sent me a text afterward encouraging me not to worry that the practice was so frazzled, that it was okay and I'm doing a good job. Note to self: yeah you guessed it, 2 points for Tessa. The point, whether helping Mike, helping the Romanians, or practicing with the band, is to worship. In the end it's a mercy I didn't totally lose track of worshiping Him amid everything.

WEEKEND SCOREBOARD
Mike Alongi	10
Quell	2
Lisa Grove	1
Karena Grove	1
Sarah Keyarts	1
Tessa Devaul	2

States' Line-Drive, and a Grove Goes Holm, Pt.2

2010-03-16T17:09:00.000-07:00

Saturday, March 6, continued...

All the photos had been taken, and all the preparations made, including the mischievous ones, which we'd practiced over, to make sure we were ready. "Best Man" John, "No.2 Groomsman" Bryan, and I were dapper as rental money could afford, as was our charge, with his added "pocket square" which is what they call the silk kerchief you wear with a rental tux. I helped him make the square look right, though we were woefully without an iron. The result was still pleasing. Now, all weekend I had been seeing a side of Andrew I had not often seen before, and I wondered at it.

Andrew Holmquist

Andrew has always been as stubborn as a mule, though calm, and occasionally, explosively exuberant. His blond curly head has always been as hard as it was screwed on straight. And while he had the optimism and energy of a one-man industrial revolution, when appropriate he could also be as damp as a blanket in the rain. He wasn't the sort of fellow you'd consider remarkable or exceptionally good looking, but maybe that was due to the low profile he kept, the fact that he dressed like a man in his forties when he was in high school, and the acne he fought for years. Still he grew tall, was always fit and ruddy, and had a knack for craftsmanship of all kinds, from woodworking and metalshop to making jewelry. And he had quirks; for instance, he refused to wear shorts or sandals, and didn't like to ever go in the water, whether at the pool or in the ocean.

We grew up together. As children, no matter what I wanted to play at - the themes changed with regularity - he wanted to play railroad engineer. I mean he literally always wanted to play with his toy train set. That's an important point in understanding Andrew.

Flipways, I did not care about trains. There was something about them that caught my imagination, but not like Andrew. Andrew was dead-set on them. There was no other theme for play time. This of course made us a bit distant in our preferences if close in proximity and friendship. As we grew up, we had at times grown apart and back together again, my being a home-schooled boy who had something to prove to the world, his being perhaps the only kid to ever survive the public school culture completely untainted by the world. We became friends again in high school when I was the leader of our Boy Scout troop and he joined up. Those years were wonderful for all our friendships, Andrew's and mine being no exception. From constructive projects to combat with sticks and acorns, we were all a part of a team. We each took high school classes through the local community college, so we had some classes together, too.

In the summer of 2000, before I went away to college, I was convinced that every person needed to finish a BA or BS degree. Andrew and I had a job that summer painting a huge block of storage units, and I spent the whole time dogging him about finishing his education. Both our families were poor, his more than mine, and I was convinced his fixation on railroading had gone far enough, and would land him on welfare. In the end I am an office worker with a two-year degree and a four-year degree, a mixed skill-set, a jumbled résumé, and seeking direction. Andrew has now been settled as a railroad man in Oregon for five or six years, pays a mortgage, builds his own canoes, ukeleles, cabinetry, kitchen utensils, and anything else you can imagine, and is far and away more prepared to support himself than I am. He just always knew what he wanted, and while I was distracted by shiny worldly ambitions, he quietly grew into an impressive man. It still boggles my mind that anyone could know what they want to do with their life already at age three.

Of Husbandry and Lip Balm

But I had rarely seen him on-edge like this. The previous night I'd seen him vocalize some small disrespect to his weather-worn, soft-spoken patriarch. Mr. Holmquist has always been incorrigible with the puns, and I always thought Andrew had liked punny humor, but now his father's nervous punning was driving Andrew nuts, and he said so. Being groomsmen, it seemed appropriate we do something to keep our charge on track. Our way aiding Andrew in keeping his usually respectful, good-humored sunshine was by stopping to pray with him intermittently throughout Friday night and Saturday morning, starting with the Friday night frayed ends we started to see. He was grateful and responded well. I think we gathered to pray perhaps four or five times on Saturday morning, which seemed to leave a glow on everything from the simple dresses to the rubberbands we kept shooting at each other during the wedding photos. Andrew loves God, and loves people, especially his family. He was just frazzled because he was already engaged in careful husbandry, preparing his home for his bride's return post-honeymoon, attempting to keep the wedding humming like one of his well-maintained pieces of woodshop machinery. By praying, we kept him well-oiled. He was still nervous, but his lanky frame stood a little more confident, and his now-handsome, rugged features more at ease.

The one tick our groom continued to display was a fondness for his Burt's Bees chapstick. Saturday morning it seemed he couldn't get enough of it. He'd set it down and forget about it, then miss it and search around diligently for it, asking if we had seen it, apply some, then misplace it again. I thought it odd to worry so much about chapped lips, and tried to remember if he'd always been lip-focused before.

The Ceremony

Soon the guests were creaking in the pews, roaring softly their anticipation for the big day. The music started, simple piano. The grandparents and parents were ushered down the aisle. The sun shone through the winter windows on a clear-weather wedding day. Soon it was our turn to go. I (trying to keep my tux from looking bluged and lopsided) escorted the best friend of the bride. No one noticed the ill-fit of my treasure-laden rental tux. The second groomsman and Karena. John and Lisa. We all took our places and watched, with everyone else, as the music changed for Loree.

She looked positively angelic in her slender dress and streaming veil, neither of which I can describe properly, being that I am a gent, and have no knowledge of the requisite terminology. She wore her small glasses in the wedding, which I thought was cute and apropos to the practical beauty of their ceremony, and they gave her eyes an extra glint in the sunshine still warming the proceedings. Her carriage was direct, graceful and serene, her expression warm, not betraying the nerves she had assured us, in her brief way, that she would undoubtedly feel in front of so many people. She gave her promise ring back to her father, which he had given her when she was 14. The bronzed, flat-topped, tight-lipped fire captain's chin quivered a little, as he hugged his middle daughter away, and he nevertheless enthusiastically presented her to Andrew and vigorously shook his hand.

The preacher was decidedly cowboy, smelling of Barbasol and lumber, with a broad, Baldwinesque expression. His salt-and-pepper hair that bounded neatly back from his slightly beading forehead was pomaded in combed rows, and his open tuxedo collar and black boots bespoke a man who perhaps knew his way around the brush as well as he knew his way around the Bible. He beamed at Andrew and Loree emotionally, as though they were his own children. Perhaps in a sense they were. He then spoke about Jesus, explaining that the greatest marriage proposal ever had been given by Christ, to us, at Calvary. The vows were so beautifully self-effacing and simple, and when Loree said those words of commitment to my friend I lost all visual focus as my eyes swam in happiness that spilled down my face and into my stubble.

The preacher asked for the rings. Andrew feigned a befuddled response, felt rapidly through his coat and pants pockets and turned agitatedly to his best man. John was convincingly absent-minded as he patted himself down and turned to Bryan. Bryan, apparently at a loss in turn, looked at me, believably puzzled. I had already turned to look in my own right pocket, and when I turned back toward our audience I had on my face not only a confident expression, but also a pair of cheesy white aviator sunglasses. With an exaggerated, smarmy look at John, I unbuttoned my tuxedo jacket and swung wide a right lapel to reveal my wares, Andrew's carefully arranged assortment of junk jewelry and the two beautiful rings he and Loree had made for each other. John was so choked up and tear-glazed by the beauty of his cousin's wedding that as hard as he tried to keep up the charade and pick the right rings, he came away with Andrew's ring and a cheap crackerjack ring with an enormous fake diamond instead. Andrew came back to my coat and unpinned the two diamonds and two emeralds he had set in white gold for Loree, and the rings were exchanged. Their first act as a married couple was to take communion, a tradition of which I will never tire. After Andrew and Loree each tied their half of the true lovers knot, all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen pulled each end to make it firm.

Photos courtesy of Wikipedia

It became clear to me then why Andrew had been so nervous with the lip balm; when the preacher told him to kiss his bride, it was for each of them their first kiss. Their faces had been close all morning, and both of them acquitted themselves of the task masterfully. The true lovers, Loree with her bouquet and Andrew with his coil of rope, and wedding party exited exuberantly to strains of "signed, sealed, delivered." After a lot of handshaking and becoming reaquainted with friendships that predated our births, we were ready to make our way to the reception in the town's refurbished antique fire engine, driven by the father of the bride.

The happy couple. That's the father of the bride in the driver's seat, and thats me in the back of the fire-truck, on the far left. Photo credit: Keri Herbert

The reception was great fun, complete with a seven-tier cake that Andrew's sisters had been up all night finishing, and a rubber-band fight in lieu of rice-throwing. We of the wedding party had done a thorough pranking of Andrew's vintage truck, including our tin cans, duct tape on the doors, and inscriptions of Andrew's characteristic idioms such as "This is sure going to be neat," and "She's a swell dish!" We pinned my lapel cloth, with all its odds and ends, on the bench seat in the cab. As a testimony to how fun both families are, the rubber-band fight persisted a full hour after the bride and groom were long gone.

The exiting bombardment. Peter and I hid ourselves in the truck bed in order to better pelt the couple with rubber bands. Photo credit: Keri Herbert

Our family enjoyed a nice dinner with the Spaliones, and then Peter and I went to meet up with the Grove girls and some of their cousins to play some games. We got to bed around 11:30 pm, tired to extreme satisfaction from a fun and emotional day.

Sunday, March 7

We got up at five, and Peter and I took turns driving back through the countrysides and McDonald's coffee stops on the way to Portland, while Dad and Mom read out loud from the Bible and (I think) Roy Hession in lieu of church. We also did some praying, and Dad jokingly reminded me not to close my eyes while driving. The flight was generally uneventful, apart from being filled with noisy Dairy Quiz competitors from Cal Poly. I suppose that's a hazard associated with flying out of Oregon. Soon we were at our respective homes, trying to get caught up on the hum-drum we had missed on our memorable weekend.

States' Line-Drive, and a Grove Goes Holm, Pt.1

2010-03-09T14:57:00.000-08:00

Friday, March 5

My parents and I met Peter at ACM aviation, where he works, and parked our cars there for the weekend. This has become traditional travel planning for members of our family; since Peter is the director of safety at ACM now and has been there in various capacities for the better part of the last ten years. We snagged a ride to the other side of SJC and eventually boarded our 8 AM Southwest flight to Portland, OR.

We arrived in Portland at about 10AM, picked up our Subaru rental car and headed east. Little did I know that by driving along the Hood River I was taking in views of both Oregon (on my right, including mountain goats) and Washington (on my left, over the river.) Little did I further know that in Oregon 65 MPH does not mean the same thing as it does in California. Before I had covered more than 50 miles of territory, I was stopped by a highway patrolman who promptly assessed me a fine in excess of $270. I had been traveling at about 75 MPH, but going downhill I had slowly edged my way up over 77, 78, and 79 till driving at about an 80 MPH clip. While I saw many vehicles traveling faster than this both before and after my ticket, I didn't see the cop waiting in the turnoff. Maybe that was all the difference. I was told by the locals, upon arriving in La Grande four or five hours later, that the Oregon authorities are quite strict about the speed limits. I was warned that even vehicles traveling as little as 68 MPH are often pulled-over and warned if not ticketed.

The first couple hours at Andrew's house in La Grande were spent building a stand for the wedding reception punch bowl, a huge, clear glass GE-brand steet-lamp cover. If you knew Andrew, you would know that this kind of industrial cleverness and sense of humor are just up his alley. Within minutes of my arrival I was in his impressive, industrially outfitted garage shop, using a belt-sander, drill-press and jigsaw to help him cut out the pieces. Dad correctly observed that it was a surprise to see me behind such equipment. But I felt surprisingly at home. Note to self: power tools = awesome.

After working for a while at Andrew's place, we cleaned up a little bit and went to the wedding rehearsal at the First Presbyterian Church (PCUSA) of La Grande. I am pretty sure Andrew would never go to a PCUSA church, but it was a nice old building and beautiful for a wedding. The hostess, Mary, was a delightful gal. The practice was also fun. Andrew had brought two lengths of rope, one for the groom, and one for the bride, which were to be tied together during the ceremony in a True Lovers' Knot. Andrew and Loree (Ms. Grove, his fiancé) each tied one half of the knot, then everyone in the wedding party was to pull on it to tighten it fast. The practice went well, and I enjoyed meeting the other members of the party, especially Loree's sisters Lisa and Karena. They were definitely fun.

After the rehearsal, while the rest of my family continued being good guests at our host-home, I went with Andrew and his best man (a cousin of his, and old friend of ours) John Herbert, to a dinner for the wedding party at someone's house whose name has become lost on me, but who was absolutely wonderful. Note to self: you really need to work on your problem with remembering people's names. It makes them feel they'r unimportant. The time spent with the Holmquists and Herberts and Groves was a real delight, hearing different stories of how the perfect couple had met and meshed.

That evening Peter and John, Joshua Herbert and I followed Lisa and Karena over to their house, which was quite quaint and had a linoleum floor decorated with 50's-style multicolored starbursts on a shimmery background. It was enough to do the Big Lebowski's bowling alley proud. We spent an hour or so chatting, while taking turns using a hammer and awl to punch holes in tin cans, then tying them onto yellow nylon rope.

Photo credit: Peter Kjell Ballard

Saturday, March 6

Saturday Morning I got up and had some quiet time before 8:30 AM, when Andrew was supposed to pick me up. I also had a little time for coffee and chatting with our enchanting host and hostess, Johnny and Rosie Spalione. Andrew was all ready to run when he arrived a bit late, and I saw John was already waiting on the bench of Andrew's ancient yellow Chevy pickup when we bustled out into the morning chill.

We proceeded to the church, where various concerns kept us busy, particularly dressing ourselves in the tuxes we hoped were the right size. They were ordered from a place in Visalia, CA, so if they didn't fit right, we were out of luck. As fate would have it, everything fit except the lengths of the trousers, which were a bit long for the other fellows and a bit short on mine. Still by the time the photographer was ready, so were we, yellow ties and waistcoats intact. The ladies looked pleasing in their green dresses with lemon sashes. I was told later that Andrew had chosen all of the colors and accoutrement, presumably having already consulted with the bride concerning her preferences. The photo shoot was good, though the photographer had a bad habit of getting us smiling then sitting and waiting for the smiles to stiffen before actually clicking the shutter. Still, he had a good way of getting us to keep smiling long after our smilers were tired, and that has to count for something

Then came the pre-wedding mischief. Andrew had a plan. I was to have a green piece of fabric pinned inside my tuxedo jacket, with various pocketwatches, rings, and other oddities pinned to it. I also needed sunglasses. Being that I was the third in line out of three groomsmen, I wasn't immediately sure what in the world he could have planned for me. But when he told me the plan I agreed it was a good one.

...to be continued...

Barberella Burger Ticket to Oregon

2010-03-04T20:16:00.000-08:00

For the last two days I have been doing something I haven't done for years, or perhaps ever. For no immediately pressing reason, I got up this morning at 5:15, emptied the hot water heater on my neck (which doesn't take that long; I take shorter showers since I've been living on my own again) freshly pressed my slacks, had some quiet time, and headed out by 6:45. A coffee and a commute later, and I was at work by 7:15. Yesterday I left out the ironing and moved a little faster, and had arrived by 6:30. I am not a morning person, but I have been enjoying it so far, especially considering that it leaves me ample time for Bible in the morning, and since I get to work early, I can still be off in time for class after working a full eight-hour day. That's on class-days. The rest of the days I can have the afternoon to myself, if I keep this up.

Today I had to go to physical therapy for my back and neck, which are hurting from my epic car collision last Monday. So I worked from 7:15 to 10:15, had therapy from 10:30 to about 11:30, then went to the barber shop and then for a burger at the old Happy Hound in Los Gatos.

After work I came home and Peter dropped by and I gave him a haircut. Note to Self: cutting hair while trying to smoke a pipe is not effective. I gave him a great trim, and also found that the mail had brought my 1940's Timex Military watch I bought from a woman in Portugal on eBay. Take that, J. Crew pricing.

Having finished that I am going to Darian & Buffy's house to play Ticket to Ride with David A., who is in town from Alaska this week. I have to go right now. But I will mention that tonight I pack to fly tomorrow to Oregon, where I will be a groomsman in my lifelong friend Andrew H's wedding. Phenomenal good news sessions will be had this weekend by all.

Out.

This blog needs refurbishing.

2010-02-20T13:44:00.000-08:00

Gah.

I am MacGuyver

2008-04-18T14:33:00.001-07:00

Friday, April 18, I locked my keys in the car while making a routine, work-related bank run. I came out of the bank, reached into my pocket for my keys, and then saw them sitting on the seat in my locked car. I tried to squeeze my forearm through the crack in the window but it just wasn't physically possible without causing injury to my forearm or elbow. I couldn't think of anything at first. I knew no one in my family has a key to my car right now, so I knew I was in trouble. I took stock. All I had was my clothes, credit cards and change. I needed to reach this latch:

And I needed to reach it through this gap in the window:

Then I realized I had a chance. I was wearing these shoes, which were luckily untied,

because that gave me an idea.

It only took a minute or two. And that is how I became MacGuyver. Congratulations, now you and the whole internet can better break into my car and steal my empty coffee cups.

Week Off, Week On

2008-04-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

The week of April Fools' Day I had off from school. There were no April Follies. I got back my grades, which amounted to another 4.0.

Thursday, April 3, I had the day off work, so I crashed at Trent's house the night before and we set out on the road after breakfast. We decided to go north, try out Highway 1 and see how far we could go in a day. Ate lunch in a tiny town on Hwy 1 called Point Reyes Station (which Trent kept mispronouncing RAH-yez). We ended up continuing north, and disembarking at a beach for a bit. (Check out these maps. I labeled everything and included pictures. Linking to the larger version might be easier.)

View Larger

That was good, but we hadn't even gotten as far as Jenner before we decided we ought to head back. Well, that didn't take long. Heading south on Hwy 101, we made up most of the afternoon's distance in about 15-20 minutes. Crossing the Golden Gates again, we arranged to meet up with my old friend JP and his girl Christine. Ate at an Italian restaurant, and it was good.

Friday, April 4 was relatively uneventful other than the fact that two of my new classes were canceled so I had to reshuffle my schedule. This quarter I will be working for P. Svalya, Inc.(my old boss), on MWF, and my new job in the Marketing Department at the college will occupy my Tuesdays and Thursdays. I will be carrying 11 college units and working roughly 40 hours. Woo.

Over the first weekend of April we saw this movie called Stop Loss, which was pretty much depressing. Went with Aundrea, Katie, Bethany, Chris and Peter. Katie wanted to see it because she thought it was going to be a chick flick. After all, it had a bunch of boy-toy non-actors in it, like Channing Tatum and Ryan Philippe. But in the end it just made Bethany scared that David's going to get stop-lossed once he's deployed. Note to Self: No more war movies with significant others or members of the military. I felt bad, it really messed with her head. It's gotta suck being a military spouse.

On Sunday, April 6, I gave a lecture during middle hour, about being a good witness. Pretty difficult topic to teach, considering I've never been that successful, that I know of. (Witnessing, that is; sharing Jesus with people...proselytizing.)

The first week of classes was rather boring, although it did make the quarter look like it's going to be challenging. I managed to say the wrong thing a couple times at my new job already. Note to self: I am going to need some remedial training in distinguishing how to talk to different races. I am just not used to treating people differently depending on their skin color. To me it seems backwards, but if it makes people feel respected that I acknowledge that they look different, then I guess it's worthwhile. I am so post-race in my Silicon Valley mindset, it's really odd to think in terms of tiptoeing around potentially racially charged situations.

Thursday, April 10, I had an unusual day in that about five times in one day (which is about five times more than usual) some random but very cute girl made eyes at me or flirted with me in some overt way. Must have been wearing the right clothing or something.

Saturday, April 12, I spent the morning at a conference for church elders and "interested men" in San Leandro, at Fairhaven Bible Chapel. It was hot and I got a free book and some homemade salsa, and talked with an inspiring church elder from San Diego. Note to self: I like driving to San Leandro. Perfect driving distance. Long enough to think or talk something through. Saw the Fairhaven guys. They're awesome dudes.

Larger Map

My Aunt Karin and cousin Kim came into town for the day, so we saw them over pizza and beers in the evening. They're visiting California from Alabama, where they live now. Also saw most of the other cousins including Jessi, Adam and Ange, and even Josh. I talked to cousin Chris on the phone, so if only I'd talked with TJ that would have been all the Ballard-side cousins in one shot.

Sunday, April 13, I saw Run, Fat Boy, Run with Trent, Peter and Brett. Was a pretty good flick. Brett didn't not like it, Pete liked it alright, Trent was disappointed that it wasn't a Hot Fuzz paced comedy. I liked a lot of things about it, especially his rock band tee shirts. That's an old Siouxsie & The Banshees tee in the pic, people, which is instant cred in my book.

Week in the Knees

2008-03-25T16:42:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, March 19th, was a boring enough work day. Very little occurred.

Thursday, March 20th, I went to class in the morning, dressed up in my slacks, the dress shoes I bought in that little shop in Rome, and my skinny sweater and tie. I was faux-interviewing for class. I showed my "tree" graphic design piece. Will get the video this Thursday. Then I ran some errands and met Grace for lunch at Pizza My Heart. Went to class and had class break snack for the last time with my classmates. Went home, tried to watch Farewell to Arms (Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes) but found it generally a butchering of Hemingway and went to do my homework, mid-film, before going to bed. Luckily the poster is pretty cool, and doesn't try to make Hayes look pretty.

Friday, March 21st, I worked, but I was worried about homework, so I left a little early. Went home and worked on some homework but had to clean up and go to Bible study before long. Came home from there and worked on homework late into the night.

Saturday, March 22nd, I got up and mowed the lawn, then worked on homework for a couple hours. Went over to the church to practice for Easter Service music, only to find out from Mike that the practice had been canceled. Went home for a couple more hours of homework, then drove over the hill to Seabright Beach in Santa Cruz for Silvanus' super-tame bachelor party. The lamest part of the party was the attempted Silvanus roast, because everyone knows there's nothing about Sil to roast. Overall it was a good gathering. Came back by 9 and worked on homework.

Easter Sunday was a sleepy morning. Went to church at 8:30 to help set up tables and chairs outside for the impending wedding reception, then went into church and half-worshipped, half-dozed. Note to self: even if it's awesome and amazing that I can pay attention even while fading in and out of consciousness, I probably shouldn't do it. Went home and napped. Went to Sil and Sarah Grace's wedding, enjoyed it more than I thought I was going to. One of the bridesmaids was drop-dead gorgeous and by all accounts a godly young woman, so I sent my little brother toodling over there as soon as the reception was underway, post-haste. He couldn't break the ice, which means her ice is amazingly thick. After, Octavia, Daniel, Bethany, David, Trent, Peter, Chris, Mike Abraham, Katie, Jenny and I went to BJ's for drinks and appetizers. We had a kumbaya sort of mushy talk where we all told each other how much we appreciate each other. Then went home.

Tight, Tight Chromallishment

2008-03-19T16:11:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, 3/18/2008, I went to class in the morning, worked a bit, wrote a one-page paper, painted all afternoon, and got to color class a bit late. Met Peter at the Great Mall because we were going to look for dress clothing at H&M. Note to self: I do NOT fit in H&M 30-30 pants. And it isn't my weight. We spent a while driving around talking on our cell phones looking for a coffee shop, couldn't find one, and drove back from Milpitas to south San José. Went to the usual Starbucks, and ran into my old coworker Kellan there, as well as Tony. Went home, invented the new craze, called nourishmogging, and then crashed.

Today, 8/19/2008, I just worked. Going home to do homework soon. And I pretty much don't have time to do anything else.

Hired. Cop. Clash. Call. Music. Hospital.

2008-03-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

Friday 3/14/08 I worked all day. Got a call around noon from the marketing director at De Anza College, offering me the job for which I had interviewed. I accepted. I left work a little early and went to West Valley college where they were having the San Jose Clash speech & debate tournament. I judged a round from 4:30-6 then filled out the ballot for an hour before going to bible study. Went over to Trent's place and watched The Big Sleep, left around midnight, got pulled over by a cop on a routine "California roll" making a right turn on a stoplight. He let me go. Looked disappointed I wasn't a criminal.

Saturday 3/15/08 I spent the whole day at the tournament again, judging and spending time with the Winthers and fellow Clash alums such as my beloved ol' debate partner JP Rose and his girl, and other rascals including Joe Rose, Michael Majchrowicz, Kendra, Noela, Sammy Franusic, Thane Rehn and Joe Sheffield. Little Bob Rose isn't so small anymore; he got 3rd place speaker in the tourney, and was one vote away from qualifying for nationals. Went to the Duke for a drink and a bite before getting a crazy call from Hilary then heading home, tired out, around 1:30 a.m.

Sunday 3/16/08 was boring. Got to church late-ish, didn't socialize much after. Went to Starbucks because I needed some alone time with God, but saw Katie I. there, which resulted in one of those long catching-up conversations. Still managed to have a good quiet time but I didn't get much done in the evening.

Monday 3/17/08 I worked all day. Productive day. Also payday. In the bank parking lot, an Italian man tried to get me to buy 4 Gucci leather jackets for the price of one at half-off. Luckily I am not stupid and I just ignored him. I went to Rasputin because I couldn't find this album anywhere online:

I also thumbed through the bargain bins (50c - $2.95) and came up with some pretty good stuff. I always have to choose. Either way, I definitely checked some things off my want list without dropping much coin.

Went home, Brian came over but left again right away. Never got around to St. Patrick's day celebrations. Started trying to finish my homework quickly, but Peter came home with some kind of major abdominal pain and asked me to take him to the ER. He was in a pretty bad way but within a couple hours he had gotten better and the docs didn't find anything in the blood-work or ultrasound imaging. Got a late fast-food dinner with Trent. Talked for a while. Went home and crashed.

Paperist Interviewiary Inketty Scotchal Museumine Theatricality

2008-03-14T12:45:00.000-07:00

Monday I went to work. Worked. Prepared for an interview. Didn't finish my paintings for color class. Wished I had, but they're not technically due till next Tuesday.

Tuesday morning at nine I had an evaluation on the draft of my final paper for my "today's working artist" class. My prof had questioned whether I could fit all of the history of poster art into five double-spaced pages, but he liked the paper and conceded that the only changes needed were of a grammatical nature. At ten I had an interview with the Marketing/Communications department at De Anza College. They put me at ease for the most part and most of the review went smoothly, except it felt pressed for time and the discussions about politics were a bit awkward. But then, political discussions usually are; thus the career shift into something I actually love doing! Marisa, the Director of Marketing, also graciously introduced me to a gentleman who needs graphic design work done for a CD cover, but I doubt he'll actually contact me about it. Note to self: get some business cards, pronto. Worked on my paintings for the rest of the afternoon and then in color class studio. Still wasn't done at 5:30 for class discussion; the legato piece was done but the staccato and crescendo were both still partially painted.

Wednesday I worked. More mediation prep. The printer wasn't working by the end of the day. Needed more ink, we didn't have any. Seems like it's always the photo cyan that goes first. I will say this. The HP Photosmart 3200 printer is worlds below the Canon Pixma iP6600D. There is no comparison, even as a backup printer. I just couldn't publish my work on the HP, period. Went home late from work because of the printing problems, having not even finished.

Yesterday I had no classes. By a freak coincidence, both classes happened to be out. I spent the morning remedying the printing problems at work, and then spent the afternoon in Mountain View. I was on my way to the Community School of Music and Arts, but stopped at BevMo to see if they have my illusive favorite scotch whiskey. Why? Because in January when I needed scotch I couldn't find any Sheep Dip. Turns out they have it at BevMo, regularly stocked. So I know where to find it next time. Google maps ran me into a dead end about two blocks from where I should have been, and I had a helluva time trying to find the right road to the CSMA. I finally got there, and I folded my hands behind my back as I perused their small museum, then asked for help from the front desk. One of their resident visual artists, Kyle, gave me a tour and explained the organization's functions and purpose. An amiable sort of chap, he led me around their small but impressive facility and showed me their art studios, classrooms and private lessons rooms, and concert hall. I learned a lot about their mission and should have more than enough for the "today's working artist" group project I need it for. It should also double nicely as an extra-credit museum paper for my color class.

Went home, studied a bit, cleaned a bit, looked at the wrong clock the whole time. I say the wrong clock because I only know in hindsight that it's the only clock in the house that hasn't yet been "sprung" forward an hour. As a result, I was 10 minutes late to the community theater's delightful, sold-out production of My Fair Lady, in which my old buddy Brett Carlson plays several minor characters. Since I was late, I had to watch the first half of the play standing, but it was still worth it. I assume the production was sold out because it is brilliantly performed, but also because it is the inaugural production to be shown in Foothill College's absolutely beautiful new Lohman Theater building. Brett and I hung out after, past midnight, chatting about girls and career past midnight over Denny's burgers.

When I Don't Need to Do the Homework

2008-03-09T21:59:00.000-07:00

Friday night after my last post I tried to go to the mall again, failed. Went to Bible study, that was fine but boring.

Yesterday I met Aaron, one of my best friends of mine since childhood, for coffee and catching up since we haven't really talked in months. He's thinking about engagement rings. I then spoke with Megan on the phone, which was flipping awesome though cut short, and then Leah, which might have been more awesome if it had been cut short. 'Sall good, sometimes I open my mouth and put my foot in it. I had planned to do homework, but I didn't get much done. I so often don't when I want to, then do when I need to and can't afford not to anymore. Not the best pattern. Went home to clean a little. Spring cleaning is the thing. Then I went to see 10,000 B.C. with Grace, Jared, Jean, Jenny & Jessica. That movie was so incredibly crappy, but had a fun cheese factor. Came back home, did nothing. Ennui! Went to bed.

Today I went to church, sat through it. God is good but my soul was a little like molasses this morning. Talked with Sharon, who showed me some verses in Proverbs 16 that helped me with my developing understanding of life-planning before God. Then saw Mike later, prayed with him and my dad a bit. Tony and Spen were there by then, setting up his Eagle project, rebuilding the benches outside the church building. Helped for a minute, saw "Mr. Ken" Morgan, my old scoutmaster from 10 years ago. Went over to Juicy Burger to hang with Trent and the rest of the crowd. Went home to study, ended up spring cleaning instead. Talked with Dougie on the phone for more than an hour, about his plans and his music and stuff. Says he's now an item with this girl Jen, who lives in Virginia, and he's planning on moving to Prague for a year to teach elementary school for MK's. Cool. We also talked about possibly music blogging together. At five met Dad & Mom and Peter over at the Johns' house for dinner. Indian food is objectively awesome, including goat meat and onion-cilantro-yogurt salad. Texted some with Leah about Big Lebowski quotes and Eagle scouts giving crappy sermons at Meth O'Dissed churches. Talked with Trent a little about the Prov 16 verses. Came home, working on stuff now.

Projmedlasewhiteys + Nubile Onslaught

2008-03-07T16:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, 3/6/08, I headed to class with my written assignments in my hands. Turned in some handouts, got some more. Met with my project group briefly; nobody knows what they want to do but they're less ambitious than I am, which is understandable since I usually set unrealistically high project goals. Talk talk talk. Dropped by the office, where mediation prep is in full swing on three cases simultaneously. Needless to say, there is occasional confusion. I went to see Dr. Choi again for my back and neck, and again got some laser treatments and physical therapy. Went home, didn't work on homework. Talked on the phone briefly with Rob, chatted online briefly with Hilary and swapped texts with Leah. Kenneth participated in the chat vicariously, or so I'm told. Received the usual crap from my brother for having too many friends in different parts of the country. Rob sent me a link to the following site, which made my week.

Stayed up a little late editing a paper for Trent.

Today has been relatively brisk, catching up at work on some graphics I hadn't polished up for print yet, getting binders ready for mediations. Went to Valley Fair on my lunch hour to look for some new work attire, dressier clothing, etc. Didn't come out with anything. No particular tie or pair of slacks or shoes was calling out to me. I hate malls. In a rare event, I will now present you with a piece of media. The following advertisement video made me tear up a little. It's just that right-on. The fact that they treat the beauty industry the way Nancy Reagan treated drugs, well, I find it appropriate and applause-worthy.

Sleep Dep, Poster Paper & Nitrous Branding

2008-03-06T14:23:00.000-08:00

Monday - So Sunday night I stayed up late working on a 5-page paper draft, on the topic of the overarching history of poster art, that I thought was due Thursday. Because I thought it was due Thursday, I also spent some of the evening being social, but in retrospect I would have been better off asleep by midnight instead of ridiculous lateness, because I still had to get up in the morning and go to work. Called Grandma on the way to work, to tell her about the job interview on Friday. Work was normal, and I was generally awake and functional, so no harm done. Went home, then realized the five pages were due Tuesday, not Thursday, and tried to work on my paper, really couldn't get a good momentum going until after midnight.

Tuesday - On no sleep, I managed to finish the five-page paper on poster art history. I tied 16th century Japanese Ukiyo-e polychromatic prints through to Jason Munn, so I feel pretty happy with the historical breadth of the five pages, but considering they had to be double spaced, the depth wasn't what I would want. By 7:00 a.m. I had finished the paper. So I moved on to my other homework, which included researching local art communities for a half hour, then writing a paper reflecting on my experiences creating the poster for Hannah that she couldn't ultimately use anyway. That paper read a little bit like it might have been written by a Dickensian drunkard instead of a Nos (and Red Bull and coffee and RockStar) infused, sleep deprived art student. The rest of the day went fine. I went to my chiropractor again for physical therapy on my neck and back. He used laser treatments for the first time. I had to wear safety goggles. He skirted billing questions, so, so I skirted MedPay questions.

Wednesday - I woke up to an "I'm bummed" text from a friend, couldn't think of anything to say really, realized I hadn't really been spending time in scripture lately. Did a little of that. Work day again, slow and a little sloppy. Can't have much more of that or it'll catch up with me. Heard back from the department where I interviewed, accepted an invitation for a second interview next Tuesday. It's tougher this time since I am to "bring anything I want to show," which probably means I need to have better reasons for the fewer pieces I select. Director of Marketing. Gotta impress! Midnight found me still working on homework, a handout for "Today's Working Artist" class, on the topics of the MFA degree as a pyramid scheme, by Karen Kitchel (excellent article), and another on democratic education by bell hooks (which wasn't so compelling, actually.)

A Good Week in the End

2008-03-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

Sunday, February 24, 2008 - Went to church at 9 as usual, but a little more dressed up. Lectured and led discussion from 10-11, on the topic of temptation, like I mentioned before. See the last post for my notes. We couldn't find any chalk, so Ajay went and found a thick stub of blue sidewalk chalk, and I scrawled on the blackboard with that. The result was quite messy, but I think the lecture went over pretty well.

After the preaching service the same old crowd, along with Bethany's visiting friend Aundrea the ballet dancer, went to lunch at Eric's Deli Café and chatted it up for a couple hours. I then went home and tried to work on my solo project that would be due on the 26th. Not making much progress, I decided to go over to the office and work there. My idea for the concept was based on Hannah's new blog; I was thinking that of all my friends an Art Nouveau (which was the style I wanted to try) would best fit her style. She encouraged me to look through her pics on Facebook, of which there are thousands.

I didn't get far that night. Which was bad. It was a bad night in general and I stayed up late when I should have just gone to bed. I also had to work on a paper on the Chagoya exhibition, but I didn't do much on that either.

Monday, February 25, 2008 - I was all of a panic. I was on low sleep and would have to work all day then stay up all night finishing the solo project that I had NOT been able to design on the computer and didn't know how to paint. I mean, I literally don't know how to paint. But God's good: I went to the office all dressed in a tie and all for work, only to find that the boss was out and there was nothing to do. I puttered on a few details for an hour, then left for home and homework. I drew and painted all day and all night.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008 - I hadn't blown it. I had finished it beautifully, by taking my design from the computer, printing it out, tracing it over graphite paper onto foam board, then painting over the outlines. The painting was daunting but the colors were so shocking as to make the creative process a joy even at four in the morning. The following is a lousy phone picture of the final product.

The solo project was well-enough received by my classmates and prof to be considered a moderate success. I got my midterm grade, basically just a progress report from the professor to let us know how we're doing at this juncture. Mine was 100%. I went to Saltworks, a college outreach put out by our sister church, Hillview Bible Chapel. It was good, as we were talking about John 3-4. Talked with this middle-aged black musician named Eric who wants to try to connect with me about doing some kind of music project together. We'll see if anything comes of that. I went back home after study, to work on my painting for my afternoon class, because even though I had missed it last week while vomiting, I was told the project and accompanying one-page paper were due. So I missed the guest speaker who was on campus talking about political cartooning, and did homework until I was so late for class that I had to find my prof in his other class during the next time period just to get it in to him on time. He gave me a quizzical look and told me it wasn't due till Thursday. I went home and crashed.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008 - I worked all day, then worked on homework for a while, went to Katie's house and watched Eragon, which despite the presences of John Malkovitch, Jeremy Irons, Djimon Hounsou and a cute chick was pretty much uber-lame. Went home and finished my one-page Chagoya critique paper.

Thursday, February 28, 2008 - Read something that made me really sick to my stomach. Bad emotional dayl. Morning class was fine. Got a handout from my professor that was due today but I had never gotten it because it was handed out the day I was sick. Told him I'd finish it and email it to him in the evening. Went to work for an hour and a half. Then went to Color & Design class and turned in the same assignment again. Got that and the previous assignments/papers back by the end of the class; both were A's. Went home, feeling down, pulled together a pile of artwork examples for my interview the next day. Went to Kinkos to get some things printed in color, but they didn't look that hot, so I wondered if it had been worth the time. Got a little road rage, knew it had nothing to do with the guy stealing my parking space. Prayed a lot, went home, crashed.

Friday, February 29, 2008 - Worked all morning, part of the afternoon. Needed to buy myself lunch and get some portfolio folders for my work, but realized I'd left my wallet at home. Drove home at 90 mph and back, still took forever on my lunch break. Boss was gone when I got back, so I printed out some more things to show in my interview, and put things in order. Met with Lori, the head of Graphic Design for the De Anza College Marketing Department, to show her my work and interview for a part-time job. Interview went well, was fun seemed very promising as a career step. Went to pick up Robert to take him to Bible study. Went home, fell asleep for a bit. Got an unexpected call from Ali, which was a good sort of call and left me in a much better mood than the one in which I had been. Went to Bible study, which was on the topic of patience and gentleness, among other things, as well as preserving the bond of unity among believers. All that was good. Got to play a banjo for a while, worked out a couple of Avett Brothers tunes, or at least the skeletons of them. Went home, talked to Brian in my car till 1:30 AM. Went to bed in a generally good mood, thanked God for a good week. Couldn't sleep for a while, so I just kept thanking Him.

Saturday, March 1, 2008 - Woke up mercifully late. Talked with my parents good-naturedly for a while about this and that, in my pajamas. Changed and mowed the lawns. Got green stuff all over my hands and my brown boot-cut cords. Went to get coffee and run some errands. Decided to do my devotions with my coffee at 'Bux. Buccino came in with Jake Galleau, and we talked about blazing and boy scouts while drinking Tony's concoctions of iced tea and Red Bull. Gave them a ride back to the Buccino residence and visited with their family a bit. Watched Tony sand some boards, then gave him my burned copy of this album:

...because I was pretty sure he'd dig it. Came home and researched building bookshelves and closet shelving, pretty much wasted the evening instead of doing homework.

Rainy Museum Trip & Prep for Temptation

2008-02-24T21:49:00.000-08:00

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Driving in the Rain - I was going to wake up at 9:30 and drive to Berkeley, maybe with Brian. Instead I couldn't sleep Friday night so I woke up at 11:30, got ready slowly, and headed out without Brian because it had become to late and he couldn't go. Still needed coffee, so I went by the most comfortable Starbucks, Snell & Santa Teresa, to get a bev. That was kindof a bummer because I was trying to call Tony Buccino to come with me to Berkeley, but he was working a shift at the bux. So I hung with him while I ate my lunch there instead of on the road. Then I went and bought black umbrella with a curved handle, and some Skittles (personal favorite) of all three flavors, to smuggle into the museum. I drove my Accord to Berkeley, taking 85 to 17/880 to 580 to University avenue. Julia was eating a sandwich and told me to call her later, and several other people did not answer their phones. Jed picked up and we talked about everything but what we'd been planning on talking about. He actually got on Google maps and navigated me through Berkeley to my destination, the Berkeley Art Museum.

View Larger Map

The Museum - You can see what time I actually arrived (that is, the 3:11, not the 4:11).

Upon entry, I found that they had special pricing. $8 general admission, free for Berkeley students, $50 for registered Republicans, and $5 if you're a total stud. You can see which one I was.

The Exhibit - Even though the museum currently has a huge collection of Francisco de Goya's etchings downstairs from Los Caprichos, and I was most interested in that, the exhibition I needed to see was Enrique Chagoya's Borderlandia exhibit, which is primarily comprised of political and social parody pieces copied from other iconic works of historical painters. There had been a field trip with my college class, but I had to work, so I needed to make it up on my own time.

His work is acclaimed for its use of familiar images of French art and particularly American pop art (such as Mickey Mouse and Superman) as symbols of an oppressive American or "white" culture that condescends to and injures Mexican cultural and economic interests. I found this to be a very effective form of art, and I consider him to be very talented. The emotional response was repulsive, however, because while he showed American cultural icons trampling Mexican or native central American cultural icons, his work also mocks the culture of my fond memories, essentially spitting on childhood favorites like Captain America and Superman. I found this to an ineffectual way to rally sympathy for his position, because I did not feel that my culture was trampling his, but rather felt that his high art was derisively trampling my childhood associations. This raises the question, whose culture should be allowed to trample someone else's culture? Should a white person be trampled upon simply because someone thinks white people ought to be?

Driving in the Rain, Part Deux - Driving back home I had meant to call Jed, but I'd also said I'd call Julia back. She was done with her sandwich, so we talked about a lot of stuff, mostly God and how to witness to Muslims and Hindus. That actually lasted longer than I thought, and I was almost home by the time I called Jed, who didn't pick up.

Lecture Preparation - I spent some time into the night working on my lecture for the following morning. My church's leadership recruited me to help teach through a Bible study written by the late great Jean Gibson called BCT, or Basic Christian Training, the second in a series after Survey in Basic Christianity (SBC). Mine was a topic based on chapter 7, "Overcoming Temptation." The following are my lecture notes. According to my thinking, the best ways to overcome temptation are to know the sources of that temptation then know what helps you make that decision (and keep making that decision) not to give in.

Oh The Times Return, With a Bit of Nausea

2008-02-22T16:59:00.000-08:00

I have been writing again. A lot. So much that it overflows into stuff, and gets on my shoes. It occurs to me it might help to begin chronicling again. The factual nature of this blog was very therapeutic in complicated times before. But never mind the reasons. I see now that this blog wasn't just for the summer of the dreams, but also for the winter of the puke.

To elaborate, I have spent a good deal of time this winter being sick. This is not because I have a poor immune system, so much as that I still think I am invincible, and have been diligently ignoring the memo that I am over 25 and a mere mortal. I'll explain more as I go on.

2007 E.B.O. (Extremely Brief Overview to be Filled in Later with Vague References to Things I Haven't Mentioned Yet) - Having finished my BA in Government Studies back in April of 2007, I went back to school last quarter (Fall 2007) at De Anza College, pursuing a new career direction in earnest: graphic design. No, I am not crazy, I am happier. By sheer accident I picked the one community college in my area that specializes in the arts. It actually is supposedly the best in the state of California. It's not hard to believe, because with only one exception in two quarters my profs have been outstanding. By the end of December I had a 4.0 in the Arts Department. (curse you, lingering Spanish grades!) Getting this GPA involved four all-nighters, which each time left me reeling the next day.

December helped me recoup and detox (all that caffeine, basically) in time to eat a lot of cookies, then stop eating altogether, replacing my entire diet with water and a general sense of guilt. I decided that I was poorly (as opposed to well-)read, and I needed to do something about it, and further resolved to start with science fiction and whatever else came into my mind. I drank a wonderful array of hot beverages while reading the following:

Unfortunately you have to read a lot more than 10 books over Christmas break to consider yourself well-read, and most would insist that that list isn't where they would start. But whatever.

2008 So Far - For New Years, My boss had the coughing chest flu from hell, which he promptly gave me with the instructions to duplicate ten times, distribute the copies to the office and my friends, and keep the original.

I traveled to Virginia, Pennsylvania, Virginia and North Carolina (respectively) from Thursday January 10 through Tuesday the 15th of January, for Jeremy Sewall's wedding. I was honored to be a groomsman and also to sing a song in the wedding. Bachelor party Thursday night, rehearsal dinner Friday night, wedding Saturday, drive back to Virginia Sunday, spending the weekend primarily with Knepper, Jimson and Mouse, but also spending time in protracted conversation with old friends David Sewall and Samantha Clark, and making at least one new friend in Jeremy Shull. During this phase I was miserable not only because I was sick and missing the second and third class sessions of all my Winter 2008 quarter classes, but because I am hard on myself when I am traveling. I don't work too well with jet lag, usually telling myself to ignore it, then feeling crappy. Nor do I work too well within the realm of "bachelor parties which are relatively clean but nonetheless driven by huge Cuban cigars and scotch," because apparently "losing weight" can translate literally to "becoming a lightweight." Last time I drank in any quantity (read: years ago), I was 30-40 pounds heavier, and the speed with which the 160lb version of me can get tossed was rapid. I found myself faced with this choice: (1) give in to the reeling nausea or (2) hold it in and get reeeeeallly drunk trying. Yeah, I let it all out. Felt pretty stupid. Drunkenness is not among the things I shoot for in life. Not gonna do that again. Needless to say I was more careful over the remainder of the weekend with the rest of the gallon jug of scotch that James and I had bought. James and I drove down to North Carolina to see Paul, help inspect his land holdings, do some sand-leveling and waste rifle ammunition, during the process of which we were hosted by his always delightful family, and accompanied by Daniel B. MacAdam and wife and clan of delightful rowdy youngsters. I flew out of Raleigh. Note to self: easier to fly out of Raleigh than to drive back up to Baltimore every time.

Upon return, I still wasn't well, and I was burned out from all the travel, but had to turn to catching up with classes. January was generally uneventful, except that I had a few surprises. (1) I needed to buy very expensive software as NOT defined in the Flash CS3 class description or materials and (2) I needed to know how to paint, as NOT defined in the class description or prerequisites of my "Color & Design" class.

College - I have one professor who is outstanding (ARTS-3TE "Today's Working Artist" - E. Rodriguez), one who is online and thus too impersonal even though helpful (ARTS-114.63Z Flash CS3 - P. Bruegger), and one who is not very good, though a very nice guy (ARTS-012 "Color & Design" - P. Chandras). I am still trying to get A's, but since most of it isn't actually studio work, and that which is seems mostly rote, I admit I am less motivated.

Career - I have an interview next week with the De Anza College Marketing Department for a job helping in Graphic Design. All I did was walk into the Marketing Department office suite one day after classes and inquire if I could help in any way. The gal I spoke with seemed very pleasantly surprised, and said, yes as a matter of fact they need a student employee right now. Considering my boss just gave me an unlooked-for raise, I think he knows he doesn't want to lose me, so I may find myself working two graphic design jobs in March, which makes me quite happy to think about.

Friday (today) - To bring things up to date, it's Friday February 22 (although I didn't start this post today.) Got really sick Wednesday night with either the flu or food poisoning, so there's the second nausea reference, and missed work and classes yesterday. Still a bit under the weather today, but mostly fine. I intend to work all week on homework and preparing a lecture for Basic Christian Training class I will be delivering at church Sunday. (That's another thing that happened last fall; they pulled me in to help teach Advanced Christian Training, and now that that class is over, they recruited me for BCT. I feel a little bit underqualified, but they think I'm doing a good job, so I guess that's cool.)

Late Summer, Part Two (A Retrospective)

2007-05-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

Saturday, 9/9/6 - Asheville North - After Farmer and Cannone and I waved off their girls, we traveled north. The hour was 12:30 AM, the road was dark and calling. I remember shouted conversation, tackling every issue from the metaphysical to the sensual to the spiritual. There was no doubt in my mind that they knew the same God that I did, but often their hypotheses wandered a bit far from truth into mysticism or spiritism. Farmer did more of the talking, usually describing Cannone's exploits for me, then telling Cannone to recount for me his latest theory on how lies fit into the truth. Then Cannone would cringe and explain that he didn't want me to "hammer" him, because he likes to play games with Truth for the sake of feeling like a hippie-philosopher-king. Coupled with the knowledge that I don't like doing that, Cannone becomes a bit of a barefoot hesitant. The two of them had also brought a stash of salvia with them, and we had a good deal of tobacco and cigarettes left. We opted out of the hallucinogen, as I had the distinct impression that it was a bad idea for an overnight road trip, even though it was legal.

Route 81 - From Asheville we took highway 19/23 North (which is also called hwy 26, but it's the same road) proceeding to 81 North into Virginia. After a while Cannone slept, and Farmer and I discussed the meanings of many things. By my estimate, it was about four in the morning when I stopped at a Flying J, where 81 meets route 77 in Virginia, for sustenance in the form of a coffee and a Big Hunk candy bar. I gassed up Farmer's old sport utility vehicle, and Farmer spent some time waking Cannone up. After we were sure Cannone was awake, which was longer than one might think reasonable, our vehicle set out again into the night, the dawn well nigh. Farmer slept in the back seat while Cannone tried to pretend to be awake enough to talk to me. After a while, he blinked off some of the stupor, and talked for some time autobiographically, relating some things because he had overdone them for the purpose of retelling them at just such a time, and relating some things because at just such a time it was easy to retell them in an exaggerated manner. His life seemed a roller coaster of more or less welcome failures, a string of events tragic and made for the telling. The passing Virginia countryside dimly increased with the sunrise, and I began to feel tired, but never got sleepy. I live for roadtrips, and I do not prefer to sleep through them. It was a waking bucolic dream set to a campfire storyteller who didn't have any one particular story to tell. The only thing that changed was the waxing daylight, and the storyteller's name. Sometimes he went by Farmer, sometimes by Cannone.

Northern VA - I took highway 66 east from 81, cutting across familiar territory, and by nine-hundred hours we had reached the beltway. We took 495 north to 7 west, arriving at James and Jeremy's sub floor apartment in Falls Church, VA, by about 9:30 AM.

Between saying hello to one crowd of old friends, and saying goodbye to another, and getting lunch, I didn't take any opportunity to nap. I admired James' new truck for the first time, as it was a huge improvement over the old, time-tested Grand Am with the notoriously marshy backseat. (Although, there's something fond in the memories, watching countless passengers realizing that their butt was mysteriously wet.) He and I talked over spiritual things and other less memorable fluff over a lunch burrito, somewhere off the main drag (Route 7) in Falls Church. Post-burrito, we proceeded back after lunch, and I got a triple S (eliminate, shower, shave) for the first time in a while. Donning our suits and ties, we rechecked the directions to the wedding, and made our way to the Universalist National Memorial Church, deep in the maze of Washington, D.C., for a sign of the end times.

Washington, D.C. - Upon arrival, we were greeted by a lot of dressed up people in the belly of a staunchly gothic stone building, which was candle-lit and gaudily beflowered. The apocalyptic harbinger we were about to witness was really only a wedding between a couple of old friends, but the solemnity and pomp with which the event was executed really did reinforce the old joke we used to lay on Mike's conscience, that the day he got a girl would be a sign of the end times. In an only slightly exaggeratory light, Mike and his bride made each other exactly 347,490 vows, all of which they will never be able to keep due to the unmanageable tome that would result in the event of their codification. One good-natured guest observed under his breath an opinion which I endorse, that bride and groom are doomed to marital infidelity on several minor points by dint of sheer promissory tedium. Note to Self: It would be appropriate to establish a committee for the purpose of framing a bill of amendments to these vows. It should allow parties to break many of the lesser vows, provided apologies are promulgated immediately following any said breach. A resolution should also be accepted, directing executive emphasis to the more orthodox and central points of the bureaucratic code that certainly must follow the necessarily involved architectural capping of such a cleverly intricate marital foundation.

Considering that I had had no sleep after my nocturnal road vigil, I blinked slowly several times during the wedding. I did my duty as witness to their actual vows, because I cleverly saved my nodding for the proclamatory readings of one lover's sentiments to the other. These readings were preserved for just such an occasion from the more-or-less gushy love letters of months past. Naturally, these were read by someone not in love, to all us, who were also not in love. I found these moments quite lulling, but did my duty to bravely wake after each was safely over, in order to faithfully witness more vows. In any other nuptial event, the abundance of promise and the lavishness of sentiment might have become quite grating by the third hour of the ceremony. But considering that we had all teased Mike for years for being grinningly, purposely annoying, the melodramatic nature of the proceedings was instead touching and likeable. At the end of the ceremony, the couple receded as a brassy fanfare shook the halls and summoned the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Luckily, the disagreeable equestrians were preoccupied elsewhere and did not attend. Once outside, I was happily greeted by several old friends, including Faith, Abigail, and Jeremy and his girl.

Arington, VA - A reception was held at the Army Navy Country Club, which was pleasant enough, despite its severe case of military branch ambiguity. Solemn faces mixed with jolly ones, and round after round of toasts were followed by round after round of traditional family frivolities. The night ended at a reasonable hour for us, and if I remember correctly, we returned to the apartment to mix with Paul McNiel, which was even more agreeable than usual. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have.

Late Summer, Part One

2006-09-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

Friday, 9/1/6 - Night: went to Paramount's Great America, for free, to watch Jared's dress rehearsal for the parade. He was marshalling a float, then danced around in a funny hat. Went from there to play root beer pong, which was objectively lame, at the Crusade house, with the guys, who are objectively not lame. Note to self: Xbox Live is hard. Peter was going to play the gig tomorrow night with me, but informs me now that he can't after all.
Saturday, 9/2/6 - I got up early. I packed my car with sound equipment, guitars, lyrics, blankets, and clothes. I drove to San Francisco.

San Francisco. I got disoriented when Highway 1 merged with 19th Street. I pulled a u-ey, and continued south on 19th after it split from 1. I had never seen this part of town, and decided to navigate by my gut. "North by northeast," I told myself aloud, "and head downhill to the sea." I was looking for Market Street and Pier 1 (not the store, the actual pier.) I turned left onto Randolph, then (because I know a guy named Sean Head), I turned left (north) on Head, which veered right (east) and dead-ended on Ashton Avenue, where I turned left (north) and found myself at Ashton and Ocean Avenue. I went right (east) on Ocean, which overpassed Interstate 280, and then I turned left (north) on Alemany Boulevard. Alemany ran north by northeast, parallelling 280 till it reached Highway 101, where I opted for the freeway north, which I knew would take me to my general destination. All of the navigational decisions to that point were blindly improvised.

At Market Street I picked up my east coast friend and former debate coach Heather. We wended our way to Height Ashbury, parked, and sauntered through Golden Gate Park for an hour or so, talking about times we'd had in times past. I met one of Heather's co-workers from the gulf coast Katrina crisis team, and her husband, who both seemed nice. They were from Nevada. Heather delivered my long-lost folder of CD's to me, which I had lost on my east coast trip last year. Around 2 or 3 in the afternoon, I set out for the Sacramento area by way of Interstate 80.

Interstate 80. Unfortunately, the Bay Bridge, which is on 80, was closed for the weekend, and I ended up going south and getting nearly lost in a town called South San Francisco. Finally, I decided to forgo the San Mateo bridge and wend north along the Golden Gate, through Sausalito, across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge (which is on interstate 580 and leads to 80). This took hours. It was nearly 6:00 p.m. by the time I reached 80 north. The show was supposed to start at 8:00 p.m.

The Sacramento Area. I arrived in Woodside, at Julia's house, by about 7:15 p.m., and after shooting a little breeze with her parents, got directions to the little vintage clothing store where I set up my equipment and got on my 20's/70's get up. Julia and Jacob played an introductory show at about 8:30, and I played for about an hour starting at 9:30. The songs went over well, and the drummer who accompanied me (we were billed "Gabe and the Troubadours") was good enough to make it a spicy set. Then J&J played a series of covers, occasionally forgetting the words.
Sunday, 9/3/6 - By the time the show was over, it was midnight. We spent about a half an hour cleaning up, and I made my way south on Interstate 5, toward Stockton.

Stockton. At about 1:30 a.m., I pulled into Grandma's driveway, in the nice part of town, on Euclid, about a block from University of the Pacific. I awoke at about 11:00 a.m., and found Peter and Grandma already long done with breakfast. We set up Grandma's computer, and hooked her up to the internet for the first time.
Monday, 9/4/6 - Labor Day. I had planned on leaving at 7:00 a.m., go home and change, and be at work by 9:30 a.m. But since everyone else was off, I didn't have to. I spent a good portion of the day with Grandma instead, then got to work in Cupertino about 3:00 p.m., and worked till 6:00 p.m.
Tuesday, 9/5/6 - My boss wants me to never use the internet for any purpose. This will make my job and my life a lot more difficult. I can be creative.
Wednesday, 9/6/6 - It took some time to explain to my boss that my computer prints and saves files through the network, onto other computers and printers, and cannot be disconnected from the internet by just pulling the plug. By 7:00 p.m. I am home, frantically getting my bags packed and readying to drive to San Francisco International Airport.

San Francisco, CA (again). Two hours later, I am informed by the AirTran counter that the baggage check closes at 9:00 p.m. A very classy, attractive, professional looking African-American young lady behind me stammered that "it is only 9:02!" We were instructed to take our bags to "oversize," and given poor directions there. I got through security only to be informed, in broken English, that "oversize" is before the security checkpoint. I argued with the man at "oversize" until he accepted my apparently undersized duffel bag, then proceeded through security again. I reached my gate for my 9:45 p.m. flight at 9:35 p.m., and literally caught them closing the door of the jet.
Thursday, 9/7/6 - I awake with a start. The plane is still in the air, and I don't remember falling asleep at all. I do know we're close to Atlanta, our destination.

Atlanta, GA. Upon arrival at Atlanta, I find that my baggage has not arrived with my flight. It was 5:45 a.m. and the next flight from San Francisco arrives at 8:20 p.m. I rode the north on MARTA, which is Atlanta's answer to the Washington, D.C., Metro, switched trains at the Five Points Station, and rode east and deboarded at the fourth stop, "E4 Edgewood/Candler Park."

Rob met me there... on a bicycle. Note to self: don't take AirTran: Rob had all but known I wouldn't have baggage. We walked back to his apartment, which was only a few blocks away. He lived right off a street called Euclid. We had kiwi, turkey bacon, and distilled water for breakfast, and I rolled out some extra bedding and crashed while Rob went to work a few hours at the bicycle shop.

I awoke upon Rob's return, and several hours had passed. It was lunch time. Rob gave me a guided tour of his neighborhood, which backed up against a park, and was a couple blocks from a neighborhood I quickly learned to call Hipster Station. The restaurant wasn't a dead giveaway. It could have just been a hip joint nestled into a busy town. We ordered pizza by the custom slice, which was a rare treat, which was accompanied by a veritable bucket of sweet iced tea. The food was high-quality. Rob and I had our usual conversation about girls, God, and the music industry (with the occasional explanation of Rob's bicycle racing background or my political training). But after leaving the pizza joint, I found myself confronted by independent record store after independent record store, vintage clothing outlet after vintage clothing outlet, DIY-chic restaurant after DIY-chic restaurant. There was even an American Apparel store. The refurbished theatre headlined Cat Power's show, coming next week. Band of Horses was slated for the following weekend.

Having taken in the wannabe hipsters, we returned to the apartment, and drove to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Site. I promised myself to note that as we two whiteys walked into an all-black tribute, we found ourselves alone in a crowd of Asians. Weird. Heard Dr. King preach the Word. Rob and I talked more about God, and girls, and about racism, and how we didn't understand it too well. We admired Coretta Scott King's newly laid memorial garden.

Back at the apartment, we passed the afternoon in different ways, mostly talking things over more, and Rob spraypainted his old bike frame with some paint we had just bought. That night we went to the airport, picked up my baggage from the incompetents at AirTran, and went to a club to try to catch Bang Bang Bang's show. We missed them, and instead saw Pasadena (a woeful Wilco ripoff) and Greenwheel (who would have rocked if they hadn't been allowed to listen to Incubus growing up.)

Friday, 9/8/6 - At the apartment again, we stayed up till past 2:30 a.m. talking, while Rob's alcoholic roommate and his alcoholic bosses tried to get their car unstuck for two hours. We parted ways better friends than before, with Rob insisting about our conversations again that "we really should blog this stuff." I crashed on the couch.

I woke up at about 10:30 a.m., which was bad since I still needed to shower and pack my bags before Kenneth Farmer arrived at 11:00 a.m. I was nearly ready by 11, but it didn't matter, since Kenneth was lost in Atlanta. He finally found the apartment, and I threw my stuff in the back of his Ford Explorer, but realized I had just locked my boss' electronic camera in Rob's apartment. I called Rob and got his access code for the building, and before Rob could ask me to be careful, Farmer had popped the locked door open with one smooth motion of his credit card. Camera in hand, we locked up and departed.

Woodstock, GA. Kenneth took me to another town in Georgia, the name of which I do not remember. We came to a large megachurch-type building, which was clustered thickly with 15-passenger vans and minivans. I witnessed the first practice of this year's home-school orchestral brass section, taught/led by Farmer, who is a trumpeteer by trade. By three in the afternoon, we were back on the road. We talked of religious things, and mysterious females, and the problem of clashing egos with arrogant pig-like fellow colleagues, as we drove through Jasper, GA, and over the Georgia border and into North Carolina. I took pictures of things we passed, such as water towers and the piggy graveyard outside a hillside BBQ joint.

Asheville, NC. Upon arrival in town, directed by cell phone, we parked "under the bridge," where Interstate 240 overpasses North Lexington Avenue, in a gravel lot. We walked uphill, south on N. Lexington past several hippie/hipster bars and restaurants. As we approached the park, there was a low runbling noise that got louder, and louder, pulsing, and rhythmical. Lights and people were spinning and whirling about the center of a circle of hand drummers larger than I had seen before. The atmosphere was celebratory, and contagious. Note to self: hand-rolled Bali shag smokes well.

After the drumming ended, Cannone spoke for a while with a homeless friend of his, and we sang some old hymns and depression tunes for him, in unpracticed four-part harmony. He seemed grateful, and passed around the whiskey bottle, saying he was blessed. We walked from there a few blocks back, to Rosetta's Kitchen, at 116 N Lexington Avenue, just south of the overpass under which we were parked. A few hours of conversation and a couple glasses of mead later, we sauntered back to our vehicles, Cannone, Farmer and I bound for Washington, D.C.

Involuntary Physical Rejection, & Click, Click, Click

2006-09-01T15:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I cleaned the scab that has become a part of me, my own little embarrassment on the end of my finger. Turns out there really is still a fragment of something left over from my surgery in there. If you ever are directed to Rodney Z. Wong, M.D. (D.O.?) do not go to him. He just shrugs his shoulders at me and charges me money to inspect his mess. Regardless, the little piece of something has finally shown itself, and I hope to be rid of it soon.

Nothing is going on, but I am so busy. John Lennox preached last night, on the first part of Revelations, though not exegetically at all. Nice thing, he appeals directly to the logic of the mind. He's a mathematician championing a spiritual truth, and it is refreshing. No I'm not sharing anymore than that. This is an event log.

Tonight is eventful, tomorrow is planned solid, and the weeks following full. You know the feeling of a slowly climbing rollercoaster, that never seems to get to the top? The feeling when it finally gets there, and pauses, is the story of my life this Friday afternoon. I'll wave goodbye to the summer of the dreams, because by the time I surface for air again, it'll be a fond memory.

Hermanos, Herman's Hermits

2006-08-26T19:23:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-23T13:54:00.000-07:00

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"]

2006-08-18T00:06:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-12T14:21:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-05T23:31:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-03T19:45:00.000-07:00

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

2006-08-01T13:45:00.000-07:00

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.

Aggressive Amusement

2006-07-30T21:05:00.000-07:00

Wednesday night, Brett, Brianna, Matt, Peter, and Bri's friend (and now our friend) Brittany piled into a minivan and made our way to L.A. At around 1 am we arrived and crashed at our Hotel.

Thursday, Friday, and yesterday we ground-pounded all over Disneyland and the affiliated California Adventure theme park. Brett and his sister Bri are very aggressive theme-park goers, who knew the park and its nuances well, and liked to start early and end late. We tried to keep up with them, and with the exception of sleeping in on Saturday, we paced with them well. Turns out it's better to not plan the day ahead of time, but just as the day goes, an hour or so ahead and no more. Otherwise, unpredictable dynamics (weather, closed rides, crowds who had the same idea) can cause high stress levels. Lesson learned (not the hard way): amusement is best had when laid-back. In other words, Disneyland was awesome. Ariel the mermaid flirted with me, and my brother had a fun date with the girl from the corndog stand. It was cute. Last night a plumber had left an unpleasantly unfinished mess in our hotel room. So this morning we were given a refund at checkout, which in the end was quite a welcome turn of events.

Today we saw Pirates of the Caribbean, Dead Man's Chest at the El Capitan Theatre in Hollywood, and wandered the walk of stars afterwards. It was lovely, as was the drive home on hwy 5. Truly a delightful, sunny day, with blue skies and golden, waving hills. God knows when we want some simple happiness, and He doesn't deny it, may He be praised.

An Important Day

2006-07-25T18:58:00.000-07:00

This is a rare post, in that it does not detail something I did or am doing. But it's an event in our lives, yours and mine, all the same.

Today is the day I will begin to be more pleasant to people.

Mark it on your calendar. It's not something I will do, but something I trust Someone will do in me, because today, I finally let go.

The Weekend

2006-07-24T15:52:00.000-07:00

Friday, I did some reading on housekeeping, and took some measurements of my room. I also filled three trashbags with clothes and things to take to the thrift. The heat was oppressive, so everyone swam at Grace's place after Friday nite Bible study.

Saturday, I charged up the battery on my old smashed Corolla and found that it still runs quite smoothly. I drove it down the street and onto my friend David's trailer, by which means it was safely transported to the lot behind Trent and Shawn’s place, for storage. It no longer need mar my parents' driveway, thank God. I found my happy tie and my Cars' Greatest Hits cassette in the glove box before leaving it. Pete, Trent, and I beat the heat by seeing an air-conditioned showing of Lady in the Water (which was fun, 3.5 stars) and later swimming at Grace’s house again.

Yesterday, the weather topped 110°, and we went to Santa Cruz after church for Danni’s birthday. It was significantly cooler there, and Michael and I hit the cool waves for a little body surfing. Most excellent.

Wednesday Spending, Thursday Earning

2006-07-24T14:08:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, I worked a little on my latest mix, which attempts to prove that there is some cool Christian music out there. It’s hard work, and in looking for this album:

I stumbled across Rasputin’s $3.99 rack of rock albums, which were on sale for $1.99. I had to buy Mander Salis new for full price (which I do not regret), and I got this one:

for $5.99, but I also got all of the the following for one easy payment of $15.00:

Thursday, my hard work paid off and I was given a $1 an hour raise.

El Gaberino Rides Again

2006-07-17T23:47:00.000-07:00

As of Thursday I had no plans for the weekend. But certain circumstances caused me to seek solace in the road. On Friday night, I wended my way, in my Accord, from San Jose to Paso Robles to visit Dougie and his family.

Saturday we played music, and the heat was brilliantly affirmative of the spirit of summer. Dougie suggested we go to Boo Boo's in San Lu, so we went, then drove back. I acquired the following, and recommend both, though for entirely different moods:

Upon returning to Paso, we met up with Amanda and her friend Debbie, and we hung out till midnight and a half.

Sunday morning D and I got up early-ish and booked it past L.A. down to Perris. We talked about Romans 6 and parts of 1 Corinthians the whole ride down. I met up with Louisa in Perris, and Lu and I both jumped out of an airplane at 12,000 feet. After landing and getting myself calmed down (I wa stoked), we hung out all afternoon and evening, swimming to keep off the 110 degree heat, and then I drove back 400 miles home last night. Got back at 3:30 am. It was a great weekend.

Last Night, She Said...

2006-07-14T09:29:00.000-07:00

"...good job leading music. It was beautiful."

George Dawson is speaking at our church three nights. Last night he hovered around 2 Peter a lot, and Ps. 103 a little, with some Romans and other books for good measure.

I have decided that fielding worship-leading compliments was the most awkward thing this week, besides maybe the huge jug of Sunny Delight I bought last night. How can I go into a store looking for a headband and come out with ridiculo-size Sunny D, 3 bags of beef jerky, and an AFI album? Only at Wal*Mart, baby. I can't think in there. The mediocrity stifles me. I didn't even get the headband.

The Summer of the Dreams, pt. IV

2006-07-11T20:53:00.000-07:00

Today at work I had a terrible time trying not to nod off as I worked on my epic data entry project. Six pages of size 10 medical shorthand, and I am not half done

Two of the things I typed into a MS Excel column were the following:

"...time to ice the cake..."
and
"stop climbing about in the attic!"

I awoke by means of becoming frustrated with myself for an orthographical faux pas. As I dreamt, I misspelt the word "attic," by putting a "k" on the end. What a way to realize you're dream-typing: by dream editing, eh?

St. John, Halo, St. Paul, & the readvent de las chicas

2006-07-10T13:19:00.000-07:00

Friday night I taught the college group. We went through John 19:1-16, which is the second half of the account of Jesus' interaction, during his trial, with Roman proconsul Pilate. We talked about how not to end up like the Jews, who waited for a Messiah and then missed Him because they were pissed off, or like Pilate, who didn't choose Christ for fear of personal loss. It was good.

Saturday, in a rare display, the fellows from Grace Bible Chapel and Hillview Bible Chapel got together and played Halo. All day.

Sunday morning, I taught from II Corinthians 2:17 and 3:1-3, discussing how to be an authentic Christian. We decided that unless Christ personally has his hand in it, having a good attitude or good actions are never going to lend us the authenticity we need. If your Christianity is someone else's recommendation letter, and you're just the paper, and God's both the author and the ink, then the more interaction with him, the better.

At noon the girls came back from Mexico. They built a house there. They were all covered in paint, and scrapes from a lathe they had been using. They were complaining of getting insulation all over themselves. I could relate. Last night some of the crowd from Fairhaven (San Leandro) came down to San Jose to play soccer and hang out at my place. It was a blast.

Delay of Raise, Relay of Praise

2006-07-06T15:45:00.000-07:00

Today my boss told me that due to a negative report he received a few weeks ago, the promised raise is now contingent on three more weeks of productivity mirroring my current highly approved pace. I think I can, I think I can.

Also, in the absence of our fearless elder/college group leader Beck, I am unofficially running the college group ministry. Which means that since our guest-speaker-hopeful Silvenas will not be joining us this Friday night, I will be teaching Bible study. John 19:1-16. This further means that I must pass the worship leading (i.e. glorified cumbaya strumming) to brother Peter.

4 for 4, Plus 1 More

2006-07-05T16:27:00.000-07:00

Debuilding - I had a four day weekend culminating in the 4th of July. Most of it was spent tearing down someone else's house, for an add-on they are doing. They (my friends Mike and Nancy) will be hosting Bible students in the fall. My head was covered in dust. Insulation, drywall, and sawdust.

Cussion - I led college group Bible study on Sunday, since half the group is out of town in Mexico. That was difficult because not everyone was interested in tracking with the lesson. Biblical discussion leading is sometimes maddening, and that's not good. I want to get better at it.

Apsychotica - It recently got back to me that one of the girls, behind my back, cited my brother Peter and I as the only "normal" guys around. Thanks, I think.

Supeman Simplex - On the 3rd, Mike and I replaced my master cylinder and lubed the power windows. (Note to self: older car = broken stuff. It's a '91 Accord and a lot of it is still original stock parts. I think the next thing to go will be the starter.) Then I went with Peter to see Superman Returns. It is an instant American classic. Superman is a gentleman and a scholar, even if he does have a child out of wedlock.

Existentialization - On the 4th itself, my dad and I rebuilt our picnic table. All these things make a man feel very tactile, solutions oriented, and purposeful. I was all ready to watch the sky get shot to pieces in a blaze of existentialized glory last night. Here's to the all-American summertime blues.

Gabe's Mango Salsa Verde

2006-06-29T17:34:00.000-07:00

As served to my co-workers, classmates, and family yesterday, to rave reviews.

INGREDIENTES

2 medium ripe mangos
3 tomatillos, (2-3" appx. diameter)
1 tomato, (2-3")
1 yellow onion (3½")
1 jalapeño pepper
1 relleno pepper
2 or 3 limes, (or ½ cup of lime juice)
salt & pepper
2/3 cup loosely packed cilantro
2 tbsp secret ingredient

DIRECCIONES

Dice the riper of the two mangos, and half the onion. Seed and cap the peppers, hull the tomatillos, and finely chop the cilantro. Puree the tomatillos, tomato, both peppers, the other mango (without the seed, duh), and the other half of the onion. Mix in the juice of two (or more) limes, the cilantro, the diced onion and mango, and salt & pepper to taste. (Oh, pour in the secret ingredient, too. Don't worry, it's still good without it. But I'll give you a hint. It's not green, and it's got antioxidants!)

Chill.

Serve.

Presentaciones y Cine Cómico de Lucha Libre

2006-06-27T13:15:00.000-07:00

So last night was fine. I do need to email that stuff to la profesora though. Las presentaciones de los estudiantes last night were almost unbearably long. And we had to have the obligatory presentation about Frida Kahlo, the most overrated woman in the history of mankind. Sure, her life sucked, and she painted well. But she was sortof morbidly self-obsessed as well.

So last night my brother and I took in the new Jack Black flick. Not gut wrenchingly, I-can't-breathe-it's-so funny, but definitely a finely-tuned, chuckle-inducing piece of comic genius. The lack of one-liners will probably hurt the DVD sales.

Chewing the Homework Cud

2006-06-26T18:01:00.000-07:00

I really don't like checking my email in the community college library. Even if it is for school. It's just sortof... naked. What makes it worse is I forgot to email myself my re-done Spanish 4 assignment. And I have 15 minutes till class. So I cannot re-chew this stuff again right now. I am an educational cow. I can't chew and swallow just once. I have to do it a couple times.

Last night I went up to the east bay. San Leandro, to be precise. I went up to see my friends from Summit this year and last year. Since they are cool guys, it was a good time. I also found out their church, Fairhaven Bible Chapel, has their breaking of bread service every Sunday night instead of Sunday morning. They teasingly say they're more correct since it's the Lord's "Supper." The perk was, one Sunday, two BOB services. And the Spirit was there, so it was good. Go read Psalm 116-118, Revelation 19:7-10, and Luke 22:14-20. If you wanna know what I got out of all that, ask me later.

Additional note: Baker's Square's "4 Alarm Burger" seems tame till it hits your stomach. The heat was mild, but the indigestion was horrible.

Gigbreakfastcoil

2006-06-24T19:11:00.000-07:00

Last night I played a show at City Espresso near Blossom Hill Rd. and Chesbro, in South San Jose, in the 408. I liked it. I could see people following the lyrics, sometimes inquisitively, sometimes approvingly. Julia drove down just for the show, with a friend, which was all cool. The set consisted of newer material, such as "Little Bird (End of Your Songs)" and "I Believe It, It's True," along with some older stuff, such as "Retail Boy," and that song I wrote for Sam a long time ago, "The Storied Breaking and Hooking of Up."

Today I went to Jeffrey's Restaurant down on the south end of Gilroy. We had a surprise birthday breakfast for Trent. We bought him a bike, a pretty damn nice one. Rock hopper. I bought myself some "chicken fried steak" and biscuits w/ gravy. Greasy, but Tabasco makes up for everything like that. What is it about "small coffee cup, perpetual coffee, large tip" that some truckstop waitresses don't understand?

I also fixed my car today. Turned out to the coil on my distributer was burned out. I am out a whole $52.

Bought Some Albums

2006-06-22T23:51:00.000-07:00

Just had Bible study tonight. I admit; I hate topical studies. People who write these things approach the Bible with a topic they want to uncover, and more often than not, a point they are trying to make. Inevitably, verses get presumptively misapplied.

Last night, after finals, I went to Rasputin Records and spent the gift certificate my office people gave me for my birthday. I spent a little of my own cash too. My goal was to fill in some gaps, aquiring (a) albums I already like but haven't gotten around to buying, and (b) new albums I have been anticipating. The results:

Aftermath

2006-06-22T10:07:00.000-07:00

Spanish 4: Last night I gave my final presentation, and took my final exam. The presentation was about Ibrahim Ferrer and Compay Segundo, (dos de los músicos más famosos de Cuba.)

I was right; I slept the night before, and I paid for it. But I probably passed.

Music: tomorrow night, I will play a show at City Espresso in south San Jose, near Blossom Hill and Cahalan.

Technical Difficulties

2006-06-21T04:12:00.000-07:00

Sorry about the pop-ups. I will try to fix that.

In other news, today at work was my worst in a long time. Hard to please the boss sometimes. Tomorrow night's test is going to be horrible if I sleep at all between now and then. Prayer would be appreciated.

To This Date

2006-06-19T23:04:00.000-07:00

Spanish—6/19/6, Monday—I am in a Spanish 4 class on the quarter system, at DeAnza College. This is the rough equivalent of Spanish 3 on the semester system. The final is this Wednesday; Spanish 5 begins with the advent of July. Tonight we studied subjunctive clauses for the thousandth time, and heard presentations about Brazil and Salvador Dali, among other things.

Father's Day Soccer—6/18/6, Sunday— Pete and I took Dad to buy soccer gear. He was happy as a clam, with new cleats, shorts, a jersey and everything. It was fun, especially when he got to donn it all for the inter-church soccer game the same evening. Awesome.

The Buddhist Monk Look—6/14/6, Wednesday—In a coup over our steady office boringness, I convinced my coworker (and comrade in harmless office shenanigans) Christina to go with her urge to switch her naturally blonde hair to dark brunette. She, in turn, encouraged me to change my look. Well, I HAD been thinking of shaving my head. I have thought about it for some time, but I particularly feel lately that I have no one to impress, so off it went. I now shave my head with a razor daily. Tanning is slow.

My First Full Sermon—6/11/6, Sunday—The topic: I was assigned Acts 18:1-11, to continue our church's Acts series. I spoke about Paul's retail job, and waiting for God, waiting for direction. I incorporated a section of Lamentations 3, talking about waiting for lovingkindness, hope, and purpose. If you want a copy just ask.

Major League Ballpark—6/8/6, Thursday—My birthday, but we observed Dad's, which had been 5/30, by redeeming his birthday present: Giants baseball tickets. Los Gigantes won, which was nice. After a lifetime rooting for this team, this was the first game I ever had the opportunity to attend. There are a lot of attractive girls at baseball games. Most of them seem to be suffering from a lack of substance, or something. Boring, pretty girls.

Starting this new blog.

2006-06-19T18:08:00.000-07:00

The nature of my xanga requires that I post something thought-out and coherent. I am not sure if these pressures come from my audience or my own perfectionism. Either way, this spot will hopefully provide mere context for whatever contextless expressions I should choose to implant at The Whole Brevity Thing (something of an ironic title, to be sure.)