Moxy, The Proper Working Chair, and Lock-Picking

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.

I am MacGuyver

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.

Rainy Museum Trip & Prep for Temptation

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.



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• 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.

El Gaberino Rides Again

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.

4 for 4, Plus 1 More

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.

Gigbreakfastcoil

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.