There are certain things that you are supposed to like, that I hate. You already know of my hate affair with monkeys, but the following are also quite difficult for me to accept.
1. Silent Night. I really don’t like this song. I really don’t like that the phrase “All is calm all is bright round yon virgin mother and child” are separated musically. Sing it. You will see what I mean. Think of how its broken up. All is calm all is bright | round yon virgin | mother and child. It doesn’t fit right.
2. Marshmallows. Am I the only one who doesn’t like them? I dislike the texture, I don’t really like the flavor, and they are so airy. I really don’t like airy things.
3. Beef. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the hamburger as much as the next American, but I don’t really like whole beef. I can eat the occasional steak (VERY occasional), but to be honest, I don’t really enjoy the flavor.
4. Corn in any dish. I love corn, but only by itself. Don’t even get me started on potato corn chowder. Corn in Taco Soup should be a sin.
5. Soup. I don’t like it. I’m sorry, but I don’t like eating soup under any circumstances. Unless, however, it is Golden Buddha’s hot and sour. It’s messy, runny and usually corn laden. Or vegetable beefy which is even worse. I don’t know why my mother tomatoe-d and green beaned everything when I was growing up, but she did. Consequently I have a very severe aversion to vegetable beef soup because t was always very green beeny/cornescent/tomatoesque. In my mind all soup are cousins to that mess, so I refuse to take part in any soupage. (Not to be confused with Arthur’s version of Qudditch)
6. Spoons. I really don’t like using spoons unless I’m stirring or eating ice cream or the rare soup. One of my greatest pet peeves is people who serve cake and ice cream, and expect you to eat it with a spoon. When that occurs, I won’t eat the cake. I hate eating things that should be eaten with a fork with anything other utensil. Lord, I’d rather eat using tongs.
7. Babies. I don’t think that babies are cute. I don’t think they are ugly, I just don’t look at an infant and think, “How adorable!” Not for me, thank you!
8. Lemon, lime, grape, watermelon or sour apple flavored candy. Why is apple inexorably linked to sour? I like sour things well enough, but not attached to fake apple. Fake watermelon has no taste resemblance whatsoever to real watermelon. Or grape for that matter. I guess fake grape just reminds me way too much of Dimetapp. Which is a thousand percent better than Triaminic. Which is a billion times better than Robitussin. Who decided that the Robitussin flavor should be legal? Seriously, that should be banned as an illegal substance. I can’t imagine any consumable flavor that is worse.
9. Getting clothes for a gift. If it is MLB/NBA related, bring it on. If not, I feel like clothes are too much of a necessity. And I am way too picky to be comfortable with someone deciding what I would like.
10. Drive thru’s. I really hate ordering into that little speaker. I hate trying to pull my wallet out of my pocket. I hate being passed a drink over that abyss between the window and my car. Give me a solid counter and a cash register I can see. That is how we do things in the Musyoki household. Well, the Dallas Musyoki household. My mom loved drive thrus.
There are so many more, but there isn’t enough time. For those of you that actually slogged through this blog, I applaud you and also kind of pity you. You had to hear more of my craziness than you probably bargained for.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A singer in a smoky room...
One of the things that cracks me up about MySpace is people’s pictures. They take the same shot of themselves over and over, and they give them different captions. Cute, hot, serious, sexy, mad, me, me again, me looking fly, me looking amazing, me loking crazy… They are all the same face! I feel that the "me" is unnecessary. I mean, is anyone confused as to who the person in the photo is, especially when it is identical to the previous picture? It makes me think of a girl who came to church, and on the way home she would practice her different “Lips” in the bus mirror. “These are my cute lips. These are my pretty lips. These are my ‘that boy is tacky’ lips.” On and on. I used to make fun of her but making up ridiculous scenarios for my own lips. “These are my ‘that light better stay green’ lips. These are my ‘I want Chick-Fil-A’ lips.” She didn’t think it was funny.
I could eat Chick-Fil-A every day. There is no reason in the world that would make me like it less. I know I worked there. Perhaps it has seeped into my blood stream and has created a brand new addiction. I love their chicken, their fries, their honey mustard, their Polynesian sauce, their milkshakes… I love CFA. I do not like working there. That was deliverance from the Lord when I left that drudgery. Did you know that I worked there for two years and only made $5.60 when I left? Highway robbery. I made $6.50 when I started and Hot Dog on a Stick, and made $7.00 when I left 11 months later! I only made $5.35 when I started at CFA. Quite unbalanced. I did make more money than all of my friends did. Haha, suckers. I doubt that statement could hold truth today.
I am so close to completing my collection of Seinfeld. Only two volumes to go!
A boy called one of our volunteers “racist” the other day. I quickly put him in his place. I was not very happy with him, and quite bluntly told him the error of his statement. You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that she was married to a black guy…
I could eat Chick-Fil-A every day. There is no reason in the world that would make me like it less. I know I worked there. Perhaps it has seeped into my blood stream and has created a brand new addiction. I love their chicken, their fries, their honey mustard, their Polynesian sauce, their milkshakes… I love CFA. I do not like working there. That was deliverance from the Lord when I left that drudgery. Did you know that I worked there for two years and only made $5.60 when I left? Highway robbery. I made $6.50 when I started and Hot Dog on a Stick, and made $7.00 when I left 11 months later! I only made $5.35 when I started at CFA. Quite unbalanced. I did make more money than all of my friends did. Haha, suckers. I doubt that statement could hold truth today.
I am so close to completing my collection of Seinfeld. Only two volumes to go!
A boy called one of our volunteers “racist” the other day. I quickly put him in his place. I was not very happy with him, and quite bluntly told him the error of his statement. You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that she was married to a black guy…
Sunday, November 16, 2008
You can dance, you can dance. Everybody look at your hands...
Lasik commercials drive me crazy. They make it seem like glasses and contacts are equivalent to having to bleach your hair hourly. “Putting on glasses and contacts every day is such a hassle.” Or my favorite, “The holiday season is coming up; there are enough distractions with family alone. Don’t let glasses and contacts be a distraction from your loved ones.” Really? They brag about how much time you will save. It takes me approximately 45 seconds to put in my contacts, and less than a second to put on my glasses. I don’t ever wake up and say, “Ugh! I wish I had Laser corrective surgery so that I could save this .564 second!” Nor do my glasses become a distraction from my family. “Hold on a second Uncle Dennis, I can’t talk right now. These time consuming glasses are very distracting!” Getting Lasik could save you over 319 hours over your lifetime from contacts! That is if you wear them every day for 70 years. Even better, a whopping 3 hours from glasses! How convenient! I will admit, it would be nice not to have to wear glasses or contacts, but neither are burdens. These doctors make it seem like it is some cross to bear, which I have never felt. I honestly don’t even notice my glasses. I have worn them for over half of my life, and except for when my prescription changes, or back in 1997 when I first got glasses, they have never irritated me. So sorry Dr. Boothe, you aren’t selling me on that tactic.
There is a campaign in Washington to help atheists feel more welcomed and included during the winter holiday season. To quote the spokesperson, "Our reason for doing it during the holidays is there are an awful lot of agnostics, atheists and other types of non-theists who feel a little alone during the holidays because of its association with traditional religion." I have no problem with atheists not believing what they don’t, but really? Am I supposed compassionate because they feel left out of the major holidays, which incidentally are all RELIGIOUS HOLIDAYS? Christmas? Christian. Hanukah? Judaism. Kwanza? Let’s leave that out of this. It’s good that they want to celebrate, but please don’t make it seem like the holiday season should disassociate itself with religion. Without the religion, there would be no holidays.
A little girl gave me a picture of Obama praying yesterday. How precious of her. It was cute. That’s all I can say.
There is some rodent that lives above me that apparently has track & field aspirations. It jumps and runs all day. Sometimes it misses the beam and falls. I always laugh at it when it does that. My cat gets quite worked up when Carl Lewis up there starts his morning calisthenics. She chases the sound every which way it goes. Much like the real Carl Lewis, I wish that it would disappear.
There is a campaign in Washington to help atheists feel more welcomed and included during the winter holiday season. To quote the spokesperson, "Our reason for doing it during the holidays is there are an awful lot of agnostics, atheists and other types of non-theists who feel a little alone during the holidays because of its association with traditional religion." I have no problem with atheists not believing what they don’t, but really? Am I supposed compassionate because they feel left out of the major holidays, which incidentally are all RELIGIOUS HOLIDAYS? Christmas? Christian. Hanukah? Judaism. Kwanza? Let’s leave that out of this. It’s good that they want to celebrate, but please don’t make it seem like the holiday season should disassociate itself with religion. Without the religion, there would be no holidays.
A little girl gave me a picture of Obama praying yesterday. How precious of her. It was cute. That’s all I can say.
There is some rodent that lives above me that apparently has track & field aspirations. It jumps and runs all day. Sometimes it misses the beam and falls. I always laugh at it when it does that. My cat gets quite worked up when Carl Lewis up there starts his morning calisthenics. She chases the sound every which way it goes. Much like the real Carl Lewis, I wish that it would disappear.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
...I'd go downtown and buy a Mercury or two
Yesterday was a true joy. After Metro, I went to Chick-Fil-A and ate with Crissy, Ralph and Jessica. I then decided to go to the bank to deposit my check. I was near a Tom Thumb that has a Wells Fargo in it, so I went there. After depositing my check, I went outside to leave, and discovered my car to be completely dead. Not a smidgen of life. This stuck me as odd, because I have driven this car for over two years without a single problem of an electric nature. I called Brent, but he was quite unavailable, so Danielle came to help me. I jumped my car and that started it right up. Until I turned on the A/C. Then it died. I jumped it again and left the air off. We headed back to the apartments, but stayed on the access road. I was quite pleased that my car hadn’t died again, until we got to the light at Fitzhugh. It promptly died. This caused me a considerable amount of agitation, seeing as I was not stuck in a place where jumping was not an easy option. During a red light, I had Danielle pull up right next to me and jump the car as quickly as possible. I managed to speed off without causing any traffic disruptions. Luckily (or unfortunately, depending on how you see it) I have had quite a lot of experience with driving two-footed (Metro trains you in some weird ways) so I drove the remaining 5 or so miles while leaving my right foot ever-planted on the gas pedal. I managed to get home without any further incident, but I am now faced with the decision of what to do. Have I ever mentioned that my hood does not open when my car in on an incline? It must be either flat or on a decline. It is quite possibly the most finicky problem one could ever have with a vehicle.
I believe the problem with my car is the alternator. This is not the original alternator in the car. It has been replaced. The cause of death of these two alternators? Sub-Woofers. When I got this car there was a large pair of subs in the trunk. They had already killed the original alternator. Now they have caused the death of its replacement They are no longer in my trunk, however, their legacy lives on. I feel another grassroots activist group coming on. Oak Cliff Residents for the Prolonged Life of Alternators by the Reduction of Sub-Woofer Usage in America. OCRPLORSWUIA. It just rolls off your tongue!
I made my favorite cookies last night, but my oats are a little old, so they aren’t quite up to my standards. What a shock- something fails to meet my expectations. First my car fails me, then my cookies. What’s next, the Rangers? Wait, to fail my expectations, they would need to win the World Series. COME ON RANGERS, FAIL AWAY!!!
This is really an apt week for something like this to happen. We have talked all week about trusting God when hard times come. Well, here is a hard time! I have to decide what to do. I believe that God has something better for me, but I fell like He wants me to wait. God loves making me wait. I am the Wait King. When I do wait on His timing, things always turn out better than I expect. So for now, I will repair and wait. Who knows, maybe I will be able to bless someone with this vehicle when I finally get a new one! This car kind of fell into my lap. My Lumina (or the Beemer and I called it) was on its way to the grave and the opportunity to get this car came out of nowhere. If something like that happens again, which know how God works with me, it probably will, I would like to be able to give or sell this car at a very low price to someone who really needs it. I hope that opportunity is opened to me. We shall see.
I believe the problem with my car is the alternator. This is not the original alternator in the car. It has been replaced. The cause of death of these two alternators? Sub-Woofers. When I got this car there was a large pair of subs in the trunk. They had already killed the original alternator. Now they have caused the death of its replacement They are no longer in my trunk, however, their legacy lives on. I feel another grassroots activist group coming on. Oak Cliff Residents for the Prolonged Life of Alternators by the Reduction of Sub-Woofer Usage in America. OCRPLORSWUIA. It just rolls off your tongue!
I made my favorite cookies last night, but my oats are a little old, so they aren’t quite up to my standards. What a shock- something fails to meet my expectations. First my car fails me, then my cookies. What’s next, the Rangers? Wait, to fail my expectations, they would need to win the World Series. COME ON RANGERS, FAIL AWAY!!!
This is really an apt week for something like this to happen. We have talked all week about trusting God when hard times come. Well, here is a hard time! I have to decide what to do. I believe that God has something better for me, but I fell like He wants me to wait. God loves making me wait. I am the Wait King. When I do wait on His timing, things always turn out better than I expect. So for now, I will repair and wait. Who knows, maybe I will be able to bless someone with this vehicle when I finally get a new one! This car kind of fell into my lap. My Lumina (or the Beemer and I called it) was on its way to the grave and the opportunity to get this car came out of nowhere. If something like that happens again, which know how God works with me, it probably will, I would like to be able to give or sell this car at a very low price to someone who really needs it. I hope that opportunity is opened to me. We shall see.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Are you going to cruise the Miracle Mile?
I sat the other night on the newly fixed bench swing at the apartments. I was a little frustrated, so I pulled on a sweatshirt and grabbed my mp3 player and headed outside. As I sat there, a flood of memories came back. It was there on that swing where I grappled with God over my internship. It was there that God won. It was also there that I felt like God spoke on my duration at Metro. That was a scary conversation I had. Many angry and sullen nights were spent sitting out there. I looked down toward the Riverdale building and remembered all the stupid fights I had with Carl. The evenings that Jessica and I would talk about goals and dreams. I guess I attach places with emotions.
I went to vote on Monday. The place I went was surrounded by political sign that are not of the party I generally align myself with. Then I went inside with my voters registration card in my hand, and the official took my card, gave me a form to sign and sent me on to the booth without even looking at my ID! Obviously, I was using my own card, however, there are unscrupulous people looking for a way to subvert the electoral process. It would be quite simple for them to vote with fictitious names or cards. How disturbing.
The booth I went to was of the electronic nature. It was a touch screen, but the touch part wasn’t so responsive. I had to jam my finger onto the selection I wanted, which brought up the question, “How often does someone press this part of the screen?” Seeing as the names I selected were not of the previously mentioned party, I would hazard a guess and say rarely to never. Then, being the crazy person I am, I wondered, “When was the last time anyone cleaned these things?” It’s probably ok though- no one touched the parts of the screen I did.
I did go to the Fair again. I tried the Chicka-Mole bites. They were pretty good. I also tried the fried truffle and the Deep Fried Dinner Roll. All were delicious. The highlgh of the second trip was seeing the giraffe. I love giraffes more than any other living being besides humans. I like giraffes more than I like certain human beings. I certainly like giraffes more than I like monkeys.
I HATE monkeys. I don’t like looking at them, I don’t like thinking about them. I don’t think they are cute, I don’t think that are funny, I don’t think they are are anything but disgusting. I used to pretend when I was a kid, but as an adult I will speak my mind. I might even start a grassroots movement against them. Kenyans-Americans for the Reduction of Primate Infatuation in America. KARPIA. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it? Much nicer sounding than my earlier attempt to wipe out the love of pears and bananas. “El Pasoans Against the Proliferation of Pears and Bananas in Southwest Regional Markets.” EPAPPBSRM. It sounds a little like a test for some disease. I’ll be a “community organizer,” if you will. Then when I’m 35, I will be qualified to run for president too.
I went to vote on Monday. The place I went was surrounded by political sign that are not of the party I generally align myself with. Then I went inside with my voters registration card in my hand, and the official took my card, gave me a form to sign and sent me on to the booth without even looking at my ID! Obviously, I was using my own card, however, there are unscrupulous people looking for a way to subvert the electoral process. It would be quite simple for them to vote with fictitious names or cards. How disturbing.
The booth I went to was of the electronic nature. It was a touch screen, but the touch part wasn’t so responsive. I had to jam my finger onto the selection I wanted, which brought up the question, “How often does someone press this part of the screen?” Seeing as the names I selected were not of the previously mentioned party, I would hazard a guess and say rarely to never. Then, being the crazy person I am, I wondered, “When was the last time anyone cleaned these things?” It’s probably ok though- no one touched the parts of the screen I did.
I did go to the Fair again. I tried the Chicka-Mole bites. They were pretty good. I also tried the fried truffle and the Deep Fried Dinner Roll. All were delicious. The highlgh of the second trip was seeing the giraffe. I love giraffes more than any other living being besides humans. I like giraffes more than I like certain human beings. I certainly like giraffes more than I like monkeys.
I HATE monkeys. I don’t like looking at them, I don’t like thinking about them. I don’t think they are cute, I don’t think that are funny, I don’t think they are are anything but disgusting. I used to pretend when I was a kid, but as an adult I will speak my mind. I might even start a grassroots movement against them. Kenyans-Americans for the Reduction of Primate Infatuation in America. KARPIA. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it? Much nicer sounding than my earlier attempt to wipe out the love of pears and bananas. “El Pasoans Against the Proliferation of Pears and Bananas in Southwest Regional Markets.” EPAPPBSRM. It sounds a little like a test for some disease. I’ll be a “community organizer,” if you will. Then when I’m 35, I will be qualified to run for president too.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Even if, even if, you don't love me anymore...
I went to the State Fair of Texas today. I personally love the fair. I find it to be a refreshing change from normal hum-drum life in Dallas. Not that life is really that hum-drum, but it does get to be pretty typical. Each year, the Fair holds a fried foods contest, encouraging vendors to create new grease-saturated concoctions. While some find it repulsive and revolting, I find it delectable and quite endearing. I feel that my state certainly holds its own when it comes to submerging various foods in 400 degree grease. For today’s trip, I tried the Chicken Fried Bacon. It was alright, but it was entirely too crunchity. Then I moved around to Chocolate Covered Strawberry Waffle Balls. CCS’s, dipped in waffle batter, and fried to a golden perfection. It was beyond words. The deep-fried grilled cheese was alright, but a little too greasy. We searched for the Chick-A-Mole bites, but the stand was closed. When I have tried this delicacy, I shall report it’s deliciousness.
I think it would be incredible to be the voice of Big Tex. This year he seemed a little wheezy. You know, like an 87 year old who has had one too many Marlboros trying to walk up a flight of steps? Like that. Perhaps Big Tex needs to lay off those Newports. Pleasure? Yes. Emphysema plagued 60 foot cowboy? Not good.
As a former smoker, I don’t find smoking entirely repulsive. All throughout high school, and during my first couple months here I smoked. I know, not the smartest thing ever. It is something that I never should have started and am glad I no longer do. While it was never an addiction for me, it ensnares so many so easily that it dictates where people go, and what they do. That is the problem with smoking. Anything that causes you to change the way you act and creates an addiction is wrong. Anyway, some people accuse smokers of having a dirty habit, but I don’t really think it’s that dirty. Obviously some take it too far and smell like a tobacco plantation, but light smokers don’t gross me out. Unless you smoke in a certain way. People that don’t expel their smoke quickly, but let it linger around their mouths repulse me. I don’t really know why, but that image of smoke floating in a dense cloud around someone’s face makes me ill. I hate it. There is a picture of a famous rapper where he is smoking in such a fashion. I CAN NOT listen to his music. Not that I would want to, but when I hear his songs, that image pops into my head. It makes me want to squeeze him like a chew toy and yell, “BLOW IT OUT!!!! IT’S NOT FEBREEZE TO SAVOR!!!!”
I have found that I get a better night’s sleep when my cat sleeps on my bed. It’s odd because when I turn over, I have to wake up to push her out of the way, yet I feel more rested when she is on the bed.
Her actual name is Shambrylle, but I usually call her Cat-Face. I feel that she is more responsive to this nomenclature, and actually prefers it. Perhaps she likes the positive reinforcement, and is grateful that I am acknowledging that she is feline in nature. Who knows, maybe someone once called her Hyena-Face, and she never did quite recover…
Side note. I invite you to name the songs which my postings are titled. Leave a comment with the song title and the artist, along with your name. The person who answers the most first will receive some form of prize. I also have to know you. If I don’t know you, how will I give you your prize? This will run from now until Dec. 31, 2008. Seriously, it could be fun. Also, the person who can tell me what song I modified in the posting, "Oh come to the church in the ghetto, oh come to the church in the cliff" will reveive a bonus prize... Danielle, it would be slightly unfair for you to take this prize.
I think it would be incredible to be the voice of Big Tex. This year he seemed a little wheezy. You know, like an 87 year old who has had one too many Marlboros trying to walk up a flight of steps? Like that. Perhaps Big Tex needs to lay off those Newports. Pleasure? Yes. Emphysema plagued 60 foot cowboy? Not good.
As a former smoker, I don’t find smoking entirely repulsive. All throughout high school, and during my first couple months here I smoked. I know, not the smartest thing ever. It is something that I never should have started and am glad I no longer do. While it was never an addiction for me, it ensnares so many so easily that it dictates where people go, and what they do. That is the problem with smoking. Anything that causes you to change the way you act and creates an addiction is wrong. Anyway, some people accuse smokers of having a dirty habit, but I don’t really think it’s that dirty. Obviously some take it too far and smell like a tobacco plantation, but light smokers don’t gross me out. Unless you smoke in a certain way. People that don’t expel their smoke quickly, but let it linger around their mouths repulse me. I don’t really know why, but that image of smoke floating in a dense cloud around someone’s face makes me ill. I hate it. There is a picture of a famous rapper where he is smoking in such a fashion. I CAN NOT listen to his music. Not that I would want to, but when I hear his songs, that image pops into my head. It makes me want to squeeze him like a chew toy and yell, “BLOW IT OUT!!!! IT’S NOT FEBREEZE TO SAVOR!!!!”
I have found that I get a better night’s sleep when my cat sleeps on my bed. It’s odd because when I turn over, I have to wake up to push her out of the way, yet I feel more rested when she is on the bed.
Her actual name is Shambrylle, but I usually call her Cat-Face. I feel that she is more responsive to this nomenclature, and actually prefers it. Perhaps she likes the positive reinforcement, and is grateful that I am acknowledging that she is feline in nature. Who knows, maybe someone once called her Hyena-Face, and she never did quite recover…
Side note. I invite you to name the songs which my postings are titled. Leave a comment with the song title and the artist, along with your name. The person who answers the most first will receive some form of prize. I also have to know you. If I don’t know you, how will I give you your prize? This will run from now until Dec. 31, 2008. Seriously, it could be fun. Also, the person who can tell me what song I modified in the posting, "Oh come to the church in the ghetto, oh come to the church in the cliff" will reveive a bonus prize... Danielle, it would be slightly unfair for you to take this prize.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Wake me up before you go, go...
The last couple weeks have been very interesting. Not only has the economy turned sharply south, but Wall Street is falling apart. No matter the financial calamity, I am pretty peaceful. I know that God is going to take care of us. He hasn’t set up this ministry to collapse just yet. It may be a little tighter around here, but things will be ok.
I am not necessarily opposed to change, I just want to know exactly why change should occur. I am against progress for progress’ sake. Why? Because I am fundamentally against needless change. The next few months are going to be challenging, because we are up for some big change. Some change I understand and support, others I am sure will not be easy to accept. I have learned a system, and lived it for four years. A new system is about to put into place, and I’m sure I am going to be quite frustrated at times. I know that all the changes will be for the betterment of the ministry, yet I am comfortable with the way things are. I know, it’s when you get comfortable that you become stagnant, but I am still having a hard time with the thought of some of the oldest systems in place being replaced. In hindsight, I’m am positive that I will see the benefits, yet in foresight, I am a little cloudy. Not to worry, I will make it. I will charge through the fray, and succeed in accepting the inevitable. I just keep in mind, “It’s all for the glory of God.”
On Monday I finally finished setting up m new apartment. I have lived there for three weeks. Sad that it took so long? Yes. Do I care? No. I moved upstairs and two apartments over. I am now directly over Tim and Rachel, and beside a shade giving tree. I haven’t lived above anyone since JB moved in 2005. My bedroom floor is ridiculously squeaky. Unfortunately, it is directly over T&R’s bedroom. I guess they will get over it, if they haven’t already. My carpets are no longer stained red around the edges. I’m not really sure how that happened. I also don’t have a hill in my kitchen floor. Its nice to be able to leave my windows open without fear of break-ins or death. My cat likes it there. She seems much happier. Thank you to everyone who helped me- Brent, Crissy, Abi, TJ and Cory. You are greatly appreciated and are heroes.
The thing I hate about moving is getting used to the shower taps. In my old apartment I could set the water to the perfect setting while doing anything in the world, including writing a 38 page thesis on bio-mechanics. In this apartment, I haven’t quite gotten it yet. I either burn myself or freeze. Not the best way to start the day.
After waiting over a year and a half, I have finally gotten a DVR. I am very excited. I can now record X-Men every night. I loved that show when I was a kid. I can also record Survivor and the Amazing Race so that I can watch it even if Crissy is unavailable. Or random documentaries on the History Channel.
I am not necessarily opposed to change, I just want to know exactly why change should occur. I am against progress for progress’ sake. Why? Because I am fundamentally against needless change. The next few months are going to be challenging, because we are up for some big change. Some change I understand and support, others I am sure will not be easy to accept. I have learned a system, and lived it for four years. A new system is about to put into place, and I’m sure I am going to be quite frustrated at times. I know that all the changes will be for the betterment of the ministry, yet I am comfortable with the way things are. I know, it’s when you get comfortable that you become stagnant, but I am still having a hard time with the thought of some of the oldest systems in place being replaced. In hindsight, I’m am positive that I will see the benefits, yet in foresight, I am a little cloudy. Not to worry, I will make it. I will charge through the fray, and succeed in accepting the inevitable. I just keep in mind, “It’s all for the glory of God.”
On Monday I finally finished setting up m new apartment. I have lived there for three weeks. Sad that it took so long? Yes. Do I care? No. I moved upstairs and two apartments over. I am now directly over Tim and Rachel, and beside a shade giving tree. I haven’t lived above anyone since JB moved in 2005. My bedroom floor is ridiculously squeaky. Unfortunately, it is directly over T&R’s bedroom. I guess they will get over it, if they haven’t already. My carpets are no longer stained red around the edges. I’m not really sure how that happened. I also don’t have a hill in my kitchen floor. Its nice to be able to leave my windows open without fear of break-ins or death. My cat likes it there. She seems much happier. Thank you to everyone who helped me- Brent, Crissy, Abi, TJ and Cory. You are greatly appreciated and are heroes.
The thing I hate about moving is getting used to the shower taps. In my old apartment I could set the water to the perfect setting while doing anything in the world, including writing a 38 page thesis on bio-mechanics. In this apartment, I haven’t quite gotten it yet. I either burn myself or freeze. Not the best way to start the day.
After waiting over a year and a half, I have finally gotten a DVR. I am very excited. I can now record X-Men every night. I loved that show when I was a kid. I can also record Survivor and the Amazing Race so that I can watch it even if Crissy is unavailable. Or random documentaries on the History Channel.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
...To the hills of Tennessee...
I looked at my blog today and I noticed that someone asked what Alien Night was. If there is anyone reading this who participated in Alien Night, shout out. Alien Night was a youth event in 2001 or so, where the theme was emphasizing that as Christians, we are not of this world. I was in SIL (Student Impact Leadership) at the time, and was therefore heavily involved with the preparation of the event. We built a spaceship, and several of us dressed up as aliens. Two things were remarkable about our costumes: 1) Dominique made the gloves, and 2) She didn’t make enough, so we painted Marisa’s arms green. WITH LATEX PAINT. It was hot, it was uncomfortable, and it was forgettable. Along with many of the theme nights we had. Pig Fest, on the other hand, was amazing.
I told of my quest to loose weight. On Sunday, one of the teenagers told me that I had lost weight. Score. I shall continue to run, and drink a percentage of diet sodas.
September 11th is coming up in a couple days. I watched a documentary on the myths and conspiracies surrounding that day. I also watched United 93 last night. It’s hard to believe that it’s been seven years already. I remember everything about that day so clearly. The thing that really resonates in my mind if the absolute fear that gripped the entire nation. We had no idea what was going on. I remember one of my friends who called me that afternoon. He didn’t want to go to class because he was afraid that someone would attack his school. While I understand the apprehension that Americans had that day, I wasn’t very supportive of his fear. “Chach,” I said, “I doubt that anyone will attack El Paso Community College. I think there might be bigger targets out there.”
The truth is- we had no idea. In an instant, the world changed. We had no idea when or if the attacks would stop; we didn’t know if we would ever be safe again. I remember taking a shower that morning, and as I prayed for the people trapped in those towers, I realized, “America is now different.” The world I grew up will be a different one than the one my children will know. This was the defining moment for my generation. My parents had JFK’s assassination; my grandparents had Pearl Harbor. We have September 11th. This is the thing that our children will ask us where we were. Everyone knows what they were doing, and where they were when they heard the news. I saw the live shot of the second tower being hit. I saw the live shot of the towers collapsing. Those images are burned into my mind. Not the endless repeats from later on, but the actual occurrence. Those are the instances you tell your children. I have heard my mom’s story of where she was when Kennedy was shot. I will tell my children where I was when the world changed.
A couple weeks ago, the staff went to an office building downtown that has a public lobby on the 40th floor. My roommate from Nigeria and I were talking about what it would be like to fall from that height. Suddenly I remembered seeing the people jump from the Trade towers. He had not seen any of the footage. That was a moment that altered my young perception. I used to think that nothing was bad enough to cause you to kill yourself. But as I saw those people plummeting toward the ground, I thought, “How bad is it up there that the better option is to jump from 80 or 90 stories up?”
I have the El Paso Times from September 12th. It is full of speculation and theories. It’s further proof of how little we knew.
It’s a little weird to hear about our kids learning about the 11th in history and social studies. To think that this is the only world they will know, unless, something else comes along and changes it again, which inevitably it will. To only know a post 9/11 world? It saddens me. There are those older than me who would say the same to me, but I grew up in a small window of relative domestic peace. The Cold War was over and The Gulf War was fairly brief. I remember having a parade in my school, and singing “God Bless the USA” the day the war ended. The 90’s were prosperous though scandal filled. Then came the first year of the new millennium, and that all changed. No longer were our biggest concerns a puny southeastern European country, Executive unfaithfulness, legal ights of Cuban castaways, and hanging chads. All of that no longer mattered. In my childhood, the largest media circus was the OJ trial. Today’s teens had months of 9/11 reports.
Unimportant sidenote: The Album, “Satellite” by P.O.D. came out on 9/11.
We will all blink, and we will be honoring the 30th anniversary of 9/11. Life moves so quickly, and soon there will be children who will not learn of the attacks until they get to late elementary school. The Trade Center will be rebuilt, and finally New York will be able to move on. The war will end, and we will be so far removed from 9/11, that it will only be mentioned in yearly anniversary specials. That is if they still do them. We are already nearly there. One of my teens told me about one of his 8th grade history classes.
“James, I’m going to do something that my history teacher did in class. See if you get it right. Tell me if there is any incorrect information in this statement. ‘In 2001, a plane carrying Aalyiah was flying toward Los Angeles. Aalyiah decided that she wanted to go to New York instead, and she got into a fight with the pilot, and the plane crashed into the World Trade Center.’” I cleared up the statement, and I asked what happened in his class.
“Only me and three others said that there was incorrect information.”
I told of my quest to loose weight. On Sunday, one of the teenagers told me that I had lost weight. Score. I shall continue to run, and drink a percentage of diet sodas.
September 11th is coming up in a couple days. I watched a documentary on the myths and conspiracies surrounding that day. I also watched United 93 last night. It’s hard to believe that it’s been seven years already. I remember everything about that day so clearly. The thing that really resonates in my mind if the absolute fear that gripped the entire nation. We had no idea what was going on. I remember one of my friends who called me that afternoon. He didn’t want to go to class because he was afraid that someone would attack his school. While I understand the apprehension that Americans had that day, I wasn’t very supportive of his fear. “Chach,” I said, “I doubt that anyone will attack El Paso Community College. I think there might be bigger targets out there.”
The truth is- we had no idea. In an instant, the world changed. We had no idea when or if the attacks would stop; we didn’t know if we would ever be safe again. I remember taking a shower that morning, and as I prayed for the people trapped in those towers, I realized, “America is now different.” The world I grew up will be a different one than the one my children will know. This was the defining moment for my generation. My parents had JFK’s assassination; my grandparents had Pearl Harbor. We have September 11th. This is the thing that our children will ask us where we were. Everyone knows what they were doing, and where they were when they heard the news. I saw the live shot of the second tower being hit. I saw the live shot of the towers collapsing. Those images are burned into my mind. Not the endless repeats from later on, but the actual occurrence. Those are the instances you tell your children. I have heard my mom’s story of where she was when Kennedy was shot. I will tell my children where I was when the world changed.
A couple weeks ago, the staff went to an office building downtown that has a public lobby on the 40th floor. My roommate from Nigeria and I were talking about what it would be like to fall from that height. Suddenly I remembered seeing the people jump from the Trade towers. He had not seen any of the footage. That was a moment that altered my young perception. I used to think that nothing was bad enough to cause you to kill yourself. But as I saw those people plummeting toward the ground, I thought, “How bad is it up there that the better option is to jump from 80 or 90 stories up?”
I have the El Paso Times from September 12th. It is full of speculation and theories. It’s further proof of how little we knew.
It’s a little weird to hear about our kids learning about the 11th in history and social studies. To think that this is the only world they will know, unless, something else comes along and changes it again, which inevitably it will. To only know a post 9/11 world? It saddens me. There are those older than me who would say the same to me, but I grew up in a small window of relative domestic peace. The Cold War was over and The Gulf War was fairly brief. I remember having a parade in my school, and singing “God Bless the USA” the day the war ended. The 90’s were prosperous though scandal filled. Then came the first year of the new millennium, and that all changed. No longer were our biggest concerns a puny southeastern European country, Executive unfaithfulness, legal ights of Cuban castaways, and hanging chads. All of that no longer mattered. In my childhood, the largest media circus was the OJ trial. Today’s teens had months of 9/11 reports.
Unimportant sidenote: The Album, “Satellite” by P.O.D. came out on 9/11.
We will all blink, and we will be honoring the 30th anniversary of 9/11. Life moves so quickly, and soon there will be children who will not learn of the attacks until they get to late elementary school. The Trade Center will be rebuilt, and finally New York will be able to move on. The war will end, and we will be so far removed from 9/11, that it will only be mentioned in yearly anniversary specials. That is if they still do them. We are already nearly there. One of my teens told me about one of his 8th grade history classes.
“James, I’m going to do something that my history teacher did in class. See if you get it right. Tell me if there is any incorrect information in this statement. ‘In 2001, a plane carrying Aalyiah was flying toward Los Angeles. Aalyiah decided that she wanted to go to New York instead, and she got into a fight with the pilot, and the plane crashed into the World Trade Center.’” I cleared up the statement, and I asked what happened in his class.
“Only me and three others said that there was incorrect information.”
Friday, August 29, 2008
Don't stand so close to me
There is so much talk about this upcoming election, it’s almost uninspiring. I heard on the radio this morning a discussion on the race. They were debating whether or not personal attacks were necessary to win the presidential spot. One DJ said, no, to which the lead DJ said, “Please Kellie. This is America.” That lead me to think about how absurd the campaign really is.
What good does the campaign really do? It lets you know where the candidates stand, but it also reveals the sliminess of human nature. Mudslinging, attack ads, retaliation. All of the most unpleasant qualities about humanity, thrust upon a national and even global arena. I grow weary of it all.
I know who I’m voting for, and why. The question is- will this election be decided by wrong motives? Will the real result boil down to a) love for a certain race, b) dislike of a certain race, c) love for a certain gender, or d) lack of respect for a certain gender? I would be saddened to know that my candidate won or lost because of unfair bias that has nothing to do with partisanship.
Judging by the outlandish reaction to Obama’s nomination (as though it were some great shock), I would wager to guess that if he is defeated in November, it could be interesting in our neighborhoods. Shoot, if he wins, it will be REALLY interesting. BTW, the first interesting was a euphemism for “dangerous”. The second one was a euphemism for “lavish parties and overly dramatic celebrations”. November is coming. I look at it with a little apprehension.
Sunday is the day where we kick all the new sixth graders out of Kids Church. I think that for the first time since I have been Children’s Pastor, I’m not really excited. Usually I’m counting down their days in March. There are a couple in this group that have been with us for a long time, and so I’m a little sad to see them go. We will give them one last goodbye, and kick them out forever.
Is there a song that you really love, but is generally regarded as cheesy? I have come to appreciate several over the last couple years. Up to and including such artists as the Bee Gees, Neil Diamond and Don Henley. I really like the song, “I am I said.” I even titled my last entry as such. I am also a big fan of “Staying Alive.” I always have. I’m not sure why, but it just appeals to me. Maybe it speaks to my muse. Maybe my muse is fluent only in sad and cheesy.
Is there anyone else besides me that hate comic misunderstanding (Cmi) in movies? It stresses me out when a) someone has to lie because someone else made a stupid assumption, and b) whenever there is a character that just can’t be understood, and is constantly in trouble. I don’t like it. I know it’s a huge part of the comedy genre, but it bugs me. It also really annoys me that the only path to a CMi’s resolution is the “serious repentant sacrificial resolve.” You know the whole, “I lied, and I lost the girl/friend/son/father/mother/boy/husband/caterpillar that is so close to me. I guess I have to show them my sensitive understanding of their CMi induced melancholy/anger/grief/suicide and give up my friend/lover/sport/music/silk weaving to appease them.” This is why comedies don’t really appeal to me. I prefer the “everyone dies, and/or doesn’t get the girl” genre. I don’t need everyone to die, but I like it when tragedy strikes, such as sickness, death or maniacal loom burning.
What good does the campaign really do? It lets you know where the candidates stand, but it also reveals the sliminess of human nature. Mudslinging, attack ads, retaliation. All of the most unpleasant qualities about humanity, thrust upon a national and even global arena. I grow weary of it all.
I know who I’m voting for, and why. The question is- will this election be decided by wrong motives? Will the real result boil down to a) love for a certain race, b) dislike of a certain race, c) love for a certain gender, or d) lack of respect for a certain gender? I would be saddened to know that my candidate won or lost because of unfair bias that has nothing to do with partisanship.
Judging by the outlandish reaction to Obama’s nomination (as though it were some great shock), I would wager to guess that if he is defeated in November, it could be interesting in our neighborhoods. Shoot, if he wins, it will be REALLY interesting. BTW, the first interesting was a euphemism for “dangerous”. The second one was a euphemism for “lavish parties and overly dramatic celebrations”. November is coming. I look at it with a little apprehension.
Sunday is the day where we kick all the new sixth graders out of Kids Church. I think that for the first time since I have been Children’s Pastor, I’m not really excited. Usually I’m counting down their days in March. There are a couple in this group that have been with us for a long time, and so I’m a little sad to see them go. We will give them one last goodbye, and kick them out forever.
Is there a song that you really love, but is generally regarded as cheesy? I have come to appreciate several over the last couple years. Up to and including such artists as the Bee Gees, Neil Diamond and Don Henley. I really like the song, “I am I said.” I even titled my last entry as such. I am also a big fan of “Staying Alive.” I always have. I’m not sure why, but it just appeals to me. Maybe it speaks to my muse. Maybe my muse is fluent only in sad and cheesy.
Is there anyone else besides me that hate comic misunderstanding (Cmi) in movies? It stresses me out when a) someone has to lie because someone else made a stupid assumption, and b) whenever there is a character that just can’t be understood, and is constantly in trouble. I don’t like it. I know it’s a huge part of the comedy genre, but it bugs me. It also really annoys me that the only path to a CMi’s resolution is the “serious repentant sacrificial resolve.” You know the whole, “I lied, and I lost the girl/friend/son/father/mother/boy/husband/caterpillar that is so close to me. I guess I have to show them my sensitive understanding of their CMi induced melancholy/anger/grief/suicide and give up my friend/lover/sport/music/silk weaving to appease them.” This is why comedies don’t really appeal to me. I prefer the “everyone dies, and/or doesn’t get the girl” genre. I don’t need everyone to die, but I like it when tragedy strikes, such as sickness, death or maniacal loom burning.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
"I am" I said to no one there. And no one heard at all, not even the chair
As I sit to write today, I realize, I have nothing to say. No quippiness, no philosophical thought, nothing. That could be because I have been editing all day. Word to the hopeful curriculum publishers of the world: EDIT. Nothing has infuriated me more over the last few weeks than having to correct silly fifth grade English mistakes. It’s spelled alley, not ally. You walk down an alley, you have an ally. Hurricane is not a proper noun, unless it is in conjunction with a specifically named hurricane, e.g. Hurricane Andrew. Otherwise, it’s just a regular old improper noun. How would you like to be a regular noun? If proper nouns are proper, are regular nouns unusually uncouth?
My cat loves to wake me up at 7. This isn’t usually a problem, however on the weekends (Which are Sunday and Monday) I don’t particularly want to wake up at 7. I find myself purposely annoying her, “to get back at her”. How lame have I become when the highlight to my evening is taking revenge on a cat?
While we are on the subject of weekends, I would like to say that really enjoy having Monday off. It sucks that the rest of the world is working on my day of… Who am I kidding, I hang out with people I work with, almost exclusively. My one outside friend is a teacher. Our schedules don’t mesh well. Anyway, I like that I can go places without having to deal with crowds. I like that I can go places during rush hour on Monday, and not get stuck in traffic forever. I like that Wal-Mart isn’t overly crowded. I like that I can got to a mall if I need to, and not be inundated by thousands of high school mall-groupies. Instead I get inundated by thousands of retirement home mall-groupies. I like that I can wake up late on Monday morning, and laugh at the rest of the city, because those poor schmucks have to work! I like going to a park and there not be 37 different little league soccer games going on.
The park I go to is in Highland Park. It is an independent city surrounded by the city of Dallas. Mean income? A lot more that I will make in about 16 years. I like going there because it’s still urban, but it’s not busy. Unless you go on a Saturday. Then every investment banker in town is there supporting their kid’s little league soccer game. Or is it lacrosse this time of year? Going at night is nice because it’s one of the few areas in the Metroplex where it is safe to walk at night. Not only are you free from the danger of murder, you are free from the danger of prostitution. Always a bonus.
When I moved here, Ft. Worth Ave. was a lot busier at night. It really was dangerous to be outside after about 9. Even in the apartments, you went inside because there was a good chance a shooting would take place at some point. There used to be a large wooded area behind our apartments where the homeless would live. That was a little unnerving when you were sitting out there, and a head would pop up over the fence asking for change. Even the prostitution has lessened. There are only a few around these days, which is good. One of them, her name is Mona, comes into Metro and talks to us. She always waves at us when we drive by. I really wish that she would let us help her. It breaks my heart every time I see her get into some John’s car.
I began running on Monday. I realized that I am not loosing weight by doing absolutely no physical activity. I have also worked in Diet Coke. JTTW. I’m trying to reduce the amount of Dr Pepper I drink, and I WILL NOT drink Diet Dr Pepper. (BTW, I love that when you type Dr in Word, it recognizes it. I wish the East Coast would recognize it) Despite their advertising, it tastes nothing like regular. I am an expert. I had a picture of Dr Pepper on my phone for almost 3 years. I have a Dr Pepper beanie. I have been several times to the Dr Pepper museum. I would know. So I am resigned to drinking Diet Coke. What a travesty. I have also increased my salad consumption, and decreased my fried deliciousness consumption. I really don’t want to end up extremely over weight. If I have to sacrifice my taste buds in order to prolong my health, I will. And don’t even lecture me on the fact that I can eat healthily and deliciously, because I can’t. I could if I didn’t want electricity on in my house.
The Olympics are over. How sad. I really love the Olympics. It was almost a religion in my house. Along with complaining about the stupidity of the opening ceremony. I was the heretic in that matter. I have always enjoyed the OC’s. (I actually like acronyms that are unusual) I was relieved to have beaten China in the medal count, which brings up the questions, 1.What happened to Russia? We usually are in direct competition with our Eastern “allies” (Please. Anti-communism still reigns, even though they are a federation) and 2. What are we going to do as a nation to secure our top spot, and take back the top gold spot from China? 2012 is around the corner people! We have already given up a lot of our global prestige in the political arena; I for one am not willing to go second to a country like China! We would become even more the global laughing stock! Don’t even get me started on Chinese Olympians. I have NEVER supported them. Ever. I have always rooted for someone, ANYONE else. Probably because of my staunch anti-communist beliefs.
I sometimes feel like I was born in the wrong decade. I think that the 60’s would have been a better fit. The 80’s? I barely made a conscious scratch in the squiggly design decade. For one, I feel like I missed out on a lot, not living during the Cold War. I also really like the music from the 60’s-90’s. Once the new millennium began, music took a downhill turn. John Mayer? 50 Cent? Lord, give me the Beach Boys. I almost went to their final concert here in Dallas, but I couldn’t get past the fact that I would have been the youngest person in the room by at least 30 years. I also was fresh out of Hawaiian shirts.
That’s a period on my life I would like to forget. My fat, Hawaiian shirt wearing days at the beginning of High School. Jesus should have taken the wheel then. I would also like to forget my participation in Alien Night.
My cat loves to wake me up at 7. This isn’t usually a problem, however on the weekends (Which are Sunday and Monday) I don’t particularly want to wake up at 7. I find myself purposely annoying her, “to get back at her”. How lame have I become when the highlight to my evening is taking revenge on a cat?
While we are on the subject of weekends, I would like to say that really enjoy having Monday off. It sucks that the rest of the world is working on my day of… Who am I kidding, I hang out with people I work with, almost exclusively. My one outside friend is a teacher. Our schedules don’t mesh well. Anyway, I like that I can go places without having to deal with crowds. I like that I can go places during rush hour on Monday, and not get stuck in traffic forever. I like that Wal-Mart isn’t overly crowded. I like that I can got to a mall if I need to, and not be inundated by thousands of high school mall-groupies. Instead I get inundated by thousands of retirement home mall-groupies. I like that I can wake up late on Monday morning, and laugh at the rest of the city, because those poor schmucks have to work! I like going to a park and there not be 37 different little league soccer games going on.
The park I go to is in Highland Park. It is an independent city surrounded by the city of Dallas. Mean income? A lot more that I will make in about 16 years. I like going there because it’s still urban, but it’s not busy. Unless you go on a Saturday. Then every investment banker in town is there supporting their kid’s little league soccer game. Or is it lacrosse this time of year? Going at night is nice because it’s one of the few areas in the Metroplex where it is safe to walk at night. Not only are you free from the danger of murder, you are free from the danger of prostitution. Always a bonus.
When I moved here, Ft. Worth Ave. was a lot busier at night. It really was dangerous to be outside after about 9. Even in the apartments, you went inside because there was a good chance a shooting would take place at some point. There used to be a large wooded area behind our apartments where the homeless would live. That was a little unnerving when you were sitting out there, and a head would pop up over the fence asking for change. Even the prostitution has lessened. There are only a few around these days, which is good. One of them, her name is Mona, comes into Metro and talks to us. She always waves at us when we drive by. I really wish that she would let us help her. It breaks my heart every time I see her get into some John’s car.
I began running on Monday. I realized that I am not loosing weight by doing absolutely no physical activity. I have also worked in Diet Coke. JTTW. I’m trying to reduce the amount of Dr Pepper I drink, and I WILL NOT drink Diet Dr Pepper. (BTW, I love that when you type Dr in Word, it recognizes it. I wish the East Coast would recognize it) Despite their advertising, it tastes nothing like regular. I am an expert. I had a picture of Dr Pepper on my phone for almost 3 years. I have a Dr Pepper beanie. I have been several times to the Dr Pepper museum. I would know. So I am resigned to drinking Diet Coke. What a travesty. I have also increased my salad consumption, and decreased my fried deliciousness consumption. I really don’t want to end up extremely over weight. If I have to sacrifice my taste buds in order to prolong my health, I will. And don’t even lecture me on the fact that I can eat healthily and deliciously, because I can’t. I could if I didn’t want electricity on in my house.
The Olympics are over. How sad. I really love the Olympics. It was almost a religion in my house. Along with complaining about the stupidity of the opening ceremony. I was the heretic in that matter. I have always enjoyed the OC’s. (I actually like acronyms that are unusual) I was relieved to have beaten China in the medal count, which brings up the questions, 1.What happened to Russia? We usually are in direct competition with our Eastern “allies” (Please. Anti-communism still reigns, even though they are a federation) and 2. What are we going to do as a nation to secure our top spot, and take back the top gold spot from China? 2012 is around the corner people! We have already given up a lot of our global prestige in the political arena; I for one am not willing to go second to a country like China! We would become even more the global laughing stock! Don’t even get me started on Chinese Olympians. I have NEVER supported them. Ever. I have always rooted for someone, ANYONE else. Probably because of my staunch anti-communist beliefs.
I sometimes feel like I was born in the wrong decade. I think that the 60’s would have been a better fit. The 80’s? I barely made a conscious scratch in the squiggly design decade. For one, I feel like I missed out on a lot, not living during the Cold War. I also really like the music from the 60’s-90’s. Once the new millennium began, music took a downhill turn. John Mayer? 50 Cent? Lord, give me the Beach Boys. I almost went to their final concert here in Dallas, but I couldn’t get past the fact that I would have been the youngest person in the room by at least 30 years. I also was fresh out of Hawaiian shirts.
That’s a period on my life I would like to forget. My fat, Hawaiian shirt wearing days at the beginning of High School. Jesus should have taken the wheel then. I would also like to forget my participation in Alien Night.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
If I can make it there...
More adventures
Thursday, I went to Rockefeller Center. That was art deco to the nth degree. The view from the top of the building was quite panoramic, and not overly populated. We then went on a crash tour of buildings: UN Headquarters, Chrysler Building, Empire State. Then we went into Macy’s. THE Macy’s with Harold’s Square and all. 8 stories, one men’s bathroom. ON THE SEVENTH FLOOR. Really? What made them think that was a good idea? The escalators were wooden and from the early 20th Century. Rickety? Yes. Immense intrinsic value? Emphatically yes. It’s funny how big Harold’s Square seems when you see it on TV during the Thanksgiving Day Parade, but it really isn’t that big. I’m sure it is larger when there is no rush hour traffic. That evening I went to the South Street Seaport. It was pretty cool. Other that the rain, I had a really good night. I also went back to Times Square, so that I could take a better look around. I went into the Toys’R’Us, which is enormous. The scale models of the Empire State bldg, Statue of Liberty and the Chrysler Building were really interesting. They were really dirty from all the people touching them. Note to the germophobic: Don’t touch the scale models.
Friday! Oh, the day that will live in infamy. In my mind at least. I went back to Rockefeller Center to see more stuff. How descriptive, I know. I wanted to see the Today Show, but it was over by the time I got there. While enjoying my coffee and view of the Today studio, I had a revelation. Children’s Television Workshop has is in New York. I realized that CTW would be one of my dream jobs. Number 3 to be exact. 2? Work for Sesame Street. 1? Be a Muppeteer for Sesame Street. I franticly looked up the address, found out it was a block from Lincoln Center (schwing!) and off I raced. That was crap. I never did find the building, and Lincoln Center is being (surprise!) renovated. I was depressed, yet I was resilient. I confidently headed for Whitehall Station to take the Staten Island Ferry, to see (glorious music ) the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. My entire life I have dreamed of the day I would lay my eyes upon the magnificent wonder of steel. For those of you bridge newbies, The VNB, or Verrazano, is the longest suspension bridge in the United States, and the eighth longest in the world. The Holy of Holies of bridgedom. Forget the Golden Gate, over-seen highly sanctified… Uhh, anyway. I ride the ferry over, and hop assuredly on the train, and take it three stops down. I get off and walk briskly in a north-easterly direction, toward the bridge. An hour later, I am nowhere near it. Did I mention that Staten Island is very hilly? Very frustrated, I hop on a bus to return to the ferry station. I quickly identify the correct route (via a bus. Stupid James) and am on my way. I get off the bus at a National Park (? Who would have guessed?) and make my way to the viewing area. (Heraldic trumpeters announce my arrival at last) There she was. Standing blue and mighty, she welcomes me into her masterful watch, like the sentinels of… sometime. It would have been much better if my moment of visual perfection hadn’t been interrupted by some kids throwing a ball, and hitting me. Darn family-friendly area. Regretfully I must leave her alone. I will never forget that sight. Did I mention that this National Park was also home to Fort Wadsworth, and that the Battery Weed was below the viewing area for the bridge? It made for quite a duo.
I returned to Manhattan, where I went to the World Trade Center site. It was odd seeing empty space amongst giant financial buildings. You couldn’t see a lot because of the construction fences, but as I walked through I could almost get a sense of the chaos that reigned there 7 years ago. It was something I won’t ever forget. I hopped over Vessey Street and headed for Wall Street. I was first greeted with Trinity Church. I went inside and was yelled at by a security guard for daring to insult the Lord by wearing a hat. I quickly removed it but thought, “I’m not Episcopalian, I’m Pentecostal. We put hats ON.” I stood near the back to get a good full view, but again was yelled at. Apparently I was disgracing the Anglican way by not walking around. How dare I. I glared at him, and remained resolutely in my spot for another couple minutes. I was ready to walk up to the altar a few minutes earlier, but I wanted to spite the guard. Once I completed my assay inside, I went out and checked out the graveyard. It was pretty cool. I then walked down Wall Street to see all the hubbub. And what a hubbub it wubbub. Sorry, couldn’t resist. I took some pictures, looked at signs and got on the train for the Bronx…
Yankee Stadium! The highlight of my trip. It started as a lowlight. 1.) You have to go in the exact gate they want you to. None of this “I’ll go in here and walk over” business. 2.) No Bags. After finding the correct gate, I had to troop back around the stadium and cross the street to go to a bowling alley to check my bag. Once again, more yelling. This time I’m standing in front of the bag check table, and the entry guard insists that I need to move in. To where? Behind the table? Am I supposed to climb the wall to have my bag checked? Please. 3.) It was raining. I returned to my gate, and it was raining. I climbed the stairs (no escalators!) and it was raining. I got to my seat (some punk kids were in my seats) and it was raining. I sit down, and it is raining. Do you get the feeling that it’s raining? Not overly disheartened, I sit back and relax. In the rain. Some guys walk up the steps and loudly exclaim their disgust for my shirt. I wore Rangers gear just to return all the Yankees fans favor of doing the same at our stadium. The rain slows down, so I move up to my seat. I kick the kid out of my seat, and sit down. About, I don’t know 13.98786 seconds later the previously mentioned heckler turns to me and asks me about my shirt. Mind you all of his words are edited for my readers delicacies. He used a sufficient amount of expletives. Once I had made it clear that I wasn’t afraid of him, he asked me where the ____ I was from. “Dallas,” I said. We were instantly friends. He talked to me throughout the game, along with his equally intoxicated friend. I never got his name, but he just called me Josh Hamilton. I really was hoping to meet someone like him at the Yankees game, and I did. PTL.
Saturday. The day it all ended. Woke up, went to a park near the Queensboro Bridge, ate lunch, and headed for the airport. Not before I picked up some amazing Mets paraphernalia, a sweatshirt and a cup.
Here I am, after a great week, already thinking about how to top it next year.
Thank you Enobong for all you did throughout the week. I really appreciate it. You should really run a hotel.
Thursday, I went to Rockefeller Center. That was art deco to the nth degree. The view from the top of the building was quite panoramic, and not overly populated. We then went on a crash tour of buildings: UN Headquarters, Chrysler Building, Empire State. Then we went into Macy’s. THE Macy’s with Harold’s Square and all. 8 stories, one men’s bathroom. ON THE SEVENTH FLOOR. Really? What made them think that was a good idea? The escalators were wooden and from the early 20th Century. Rickety? Yes. Immense intrinsic value? Emphatically yes. It’s funny how big Harold’s Square seems when you see it on TV during the Thanksgiving Day Parade, but it really isn’t that big. I’m sure it is larger when there is no rush hour traffic. That evening I went to the South Street Seaport. It was pretty cool. Other that the rain, I had a really good night. I also went back to Times Square, so that I could take a better look around. I went into the Toys’R’Us, which is enormous. The scale models of the Empire State bldg, Statue of Liberty and the Chrysler Building were really interesting. They were really dirty from all the people touching them. Note to the germophobic: Don’t touch the scale models.
Friday! Oh, the day that will live in infamy. In my mind at least. I went back to Rockefeller Center to see more stuff. How descriptive, I know. I wanted to see the Today Show, but it was over by the time I got there. While enjoying my coffee and view of the Today studio, I had a revelation. Children’s Television Workshop has is in New York. I realized that CTW would be one of my dream jobs. Number 3 to be exact. 2? Work for Sesame Street. 1? Be a Muppeteer for Sesame Street. I franticly looked up the address, found out it was a block from Lincoln Center (schwing!) and off I raced. That was crap. I never did find the building, and Lincoln Center is being (surprise!) renovated. I was depressed, yet I was resilient. I confidently headed for Whitehall Station to take the Staten Island Ferry, to see (glorious music ) the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. My entire life I have dreamed of the day I would lay my eyes upon the magnificent wonder of steel. For those of you bridge newbies, The VNB, or Verrazano, is the longest suspension bridge in the United States, and the eighth longest in the world. The Holy of Holies of bridgedom. Forget the Golden Gate, over-seen highly sanctified… Uhh, anyway. I ride the ferry over, and hop assuredly on the train, and take it three stops down. I get off and walk briskly in a north-easterly direction, toward the bridge. An hour later, I am nowhere near it. Did I mention that Staten Island is very hilly? Very frustrated, I hop on a bus to return to the ferry station. I quickly identify the correct route (via a bus. Stupid James) and am on my way. I get off the bus at a National Park (? Who would have guessed?) and make my way to the viewing area. (Heraldic trumpeters announce my arrival at last) There she was. Standing blue and mighty, she welcomes me into her masterful watch, like the sentinels of… sometime. It would have been much better if my moment of visual perfection hadn’t been interrupted by some kids throwing a ball, and hitting me. Darn family-friendly area. Regretfully I must leave her alone. I will never forget that sight. Did I mention that this National Park was also home to Fort Wadsworth, and that the Battery Weed was below the viewing area for the bridge? It made for quite a duo.
I returned to Manhattan, where I went to the World Trade Center site. It was odd seeing empty space amongst giant financial buildings. You couldn’t see a lot because of the construction fences, but as I walked through I could almost get a sense of the chaos that reigned there 7 years ago. It was something I won’t ever forget. I hopped over Vessey Street and headed for Wall Street. I was first greeted with Trinity Church. I went inside and was yelled at by a security guard for daring to insult the Lord by wearing a hat. I quickly removed it but thought, “I’m not Episcopalian, I’m Pentecostal. We put hats ON.” I stood near the back to get a good full view, but again was yelled at. Apparently I was disgracing the Anglican way by not walking around. How dare I. I glared at him, and remained resolutely in my spot for another couple minutes. I was ready to walk up to the altar a few minutes earlier, but I wanted to spite the guard. Once I completed my assay inside, I went out and checked out the graveyard. It was pretty cool. I then walked down Wall Street to see all the hubbub. And what a hubbub it wubbub. Sorry, couldn’t resist. I took some pictures, looked at signs and got on the train for the Bronx…
Yankee Stadium! The highlight of my trip. It started as a lowlight. 1.) You have to go in the exact gate they want you to. None of this “I’ll go in here and walk over” business. 2.) No Bags. After finding the correct gate, I had to troop back around the stadium and cross the street to go to a bowling alley to check my bag. Once again, more yelling. This time I’m standing in front of the bag check table, and the entry guard insists that I need to move in. To where? Behind the table? Am I supposed to climb the wall to have my bag checked? Please. 3.) It was raining. I returned to my gate, and it was raining. I climbed the stairs (no escalators!) and it was raining. I got to my seat (some punk kids were in my seats) and it was raining. I sit down, and it is raining. Do you get the feeling that it’s raining? Not overly disheartened, I sit back and relax. In the rain. Some guys walk up the steps and loudly exclaim their disgust for my shirt. I wore Rangers gear just to return all the Yankees fans favor of doing the same at our stadium. The rain slows down, so I move up to my seat. I kick the kid out of my seat, and sit down. About, I don’t know 13.98786 seconds later the previously mentioned heckler turns to me and asks me about my shirt. Mind you all of his words are edited for my readers delicacies. He used a sufficient amount of expletives. Once I had made it clear that I wasn’t afraid of him, he asked me where the ____ I was from. “Dallas,” I said. We were instantly friends. He talked to me throughout the game, along with his equally intoxicated friend. I never got his name, but he just called me Josh Hamilton. I really was hoping to meet someone like him at the Yankees game, and I did. PTL.
Saturday. The day it all ended. Woke up, went to a park near the Queensboro Bridge, ate lunch, and headed for the airport. Not before I picked up some amazing Mets paraphernalia, a sweatshirt and a cup.
Here I am, after a great week, already thinking about how to top it next year.
Thank you Enobong for all you did throughout the week. I really appreciate it. You should really run a hotel.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Start Spreading The News
Saturday night I returned from vacation. It was incredible. I went to New York City, and had the time of my life.
I flew out of DFW Airport at 6:22 A.M. (Thanks Crissy!) The flight from DFW to Memphis was pretty average; nothing exciting happened. We landed in Memphis at 8:05, and I had a connecting flight leaving at 8:28. No big deal. When I walk out of the jetway, I was a little surprised to see the size of Memphis International. For a city of about 600,000, it was pretty big. Well over 60 gates. Anyway, I found my gate and got in line. I noticed something was wrong when it was 8:32, and only about 20 people were on the plane. Apparently NWA’s scanning system was down, so they had to manually input each boarding pass. It took forever. We get on the plane, push back, and taxi out to the runway. As we make the final turn to takeoff… the engines power down. Boo. “This is your captain speaking. Because of some heavy rain in the New York area, they are having some traffic trouble a La Guardia. We probably won’t be able to take off for about an hour.” Double boo. I have not mentioned that I had a ticket to see the Mets play the Pirates at 1:10. Our flight is supposed to land at 12:13. Do the math. So, frustrated, yet resigned, I pull out my iPod. (Thanks Danielle!) I made it through one song when a commotion from the front of the plane caught my attention. A man, of unknown mental stability, was trying to JUMP OFF THE PLANE. The flight attendants subdue him, using quite a lot of physical force, and restrain him against the wall. As they have him pinned, he starts having a seizure. The pilot zooms into action and rushes us back to the gate. An hour and a half later, after much luggage drama from that party, refueling, and another 45 minute New York area ground stop, we are in the air headed for the Big Apple.
Flight lands, I hop on a bus and race (figure of speech. What bus actually races?) to Shea Stadium, home of the Amazin’ Mets (until next season when they will move into the lovely, yet typicaly post-modern CitiField). I get in and find my seat. This is the moment I have been waiting for... to be thoroughly grossed out. Shea is in bad shape. The seats are tiny, the ground is dirty, the concourses are cramped. I could go on for hours. I was still excited because I love those Mets. Who lost. To the Pittsburgh Pirates. Suckiest team ever. Dumb Mets… It was cool. The fans are pretty intense. The umpire made a questionable call, and I seriously thought that everyone who was on the first base side was about to jump on the field. As a fan next to me said, “These fans treat these players like sacrificial lambs.” No joke.
After retrieving my luggage (which I left at the airport) I went to Enobong’s. We had dinner and went to Times Square. It’s big, it’s bright, and it’s busy. We went to Coldstone where I ordered a coffee caramel milkshake. The girl looked at me like I had just ordered a lobster dinner. She consulted the recipe book, and (mind you, it is sitting right in front of her) instead of using coffee ice cream, she used sweet cream ice cream. I gently corrected her (again, like I ordered a lobster dinner) and 10 minutes later, I had my shake. A lot of the excitement was gone by that time.
The next morning we went to Central Park. The zoo wasn’t bad, but unfortunately they were doing a lot of renovation (much like the ENTIRE city) so they only had cold weather animals (penguins, seals, sea lions, polar bears etc.). We went to lunch at Serendipity 3. Yes, like the movie. I have not seen the movie, but I was assured by several people and a wall plaque, that this was where a portion of the movie was filmed. The food was good. They had a mean raisin-pumpernickel. Their dessert was even better. Word to the wise: bring your wallet. Not exactly a low budget affair. Not extravagant, but not the most affordable joint either.
On to the Met. I was impressed with the size of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s big. Really, really, really, really big. Gargantuan even. I looked for the Kincaid children, but apparently they were hanging out at the Frankweiler’s. Kidding. But seriously, it’s huge. Word to the photographers: don’t use flash.
We tried to win the lottery to get into a Broadway show, well, two. Wicked and Rent. We didn’t win. Boo. These people from Scotland were next to us at the Rent theatre, and they won six. Lame Scotland. It started pouring, so we went home. We had some amazing New York pizza, which, did I tell you was amazing? It was amazing.
Wednesday, I adventured out on my own. I went to Battery Park, and waited for 30 minutes to pick up my ticket to go to the Statue of Liberty. Word to the smart: buy your ticket online. EARLY. I strolled around the park while waiting on my ferry. I had a hot dog, and some Snapple. I LOVE SNAPPLE. If you want to ever give me something, give me Peach Tea Snapple. Better than (I shudder in admission of truth) Dr Pepper. Digression aside. As I walked around, I noticed the Korean War memorial. As I read the inscription, I found myself choking up a bit. All those people gave their lives for what? The UN? Please. I know, it was for South Korea, but really, it was just an effort to stop the spread of communism. Political gripes aside. The monument was cool. It had the silhouette of a soldier, with the inscription, “The Universal Soldier”, which I thought was really powerful. It didn’t matter what nation they were from, they were all there for the same reason. No one country was glorified above another. I finally got onto the ferry, and sailed (or ferried) away to Liberty Island. I walked around the island for a little while before I went into the statue. Once I waited through a really long security line (complete with air puffing) I entered the pedestal. The original torch was set in the foyer, which I was very impressed with. The walk up the stairs to the top of the pedestal was really steep. I was a little winded when I got to the top. (BTDub, you can’t go inside the crown anymore. The highest you can get it the base of the statue itself) I thought the view from the roof of Fort Wood (the statue sits atop it) was the best.
The tour of Ellis Island is beyond words. When you walk into the Great Hall, you are first taken by the immense size of the room. Then when you think about all the millions of people who streamed through there, it’s… Well, beyond words. There is a huge exhibit on the third floor, documenting everything that new arrivals went through. That was cool.
That evening I went to the Brooklyn Bridge. As many of you know, I am quite terrified of bridges. I don’t like being on them, yet I love them. Walking across was not the easiest thing to do, but it was worth it. The idea that such a massive project was conceived and completed without any modern technological assistance was inspiring. To see those 125 year old cable stays… Thursday-Saturday’s adventures to come…
I flew out of DFW Airport at 6:22 A.M. (Thanks Crissy!) The flight from DFW to Memphis was pretty average; nothing exciting happened. We landed in Memphis at 8:05, and I had a connecting flight leaving at 8:28. No big deal. When I walk out of the jetway, I was a little surprised to see the size of Memphis International. For a city of about 600,000, it was pretty big. Well over 60 gates. Anyway, I found my gate and got in line. I noticed something was wrong when it was 8:32, and only about 20 people were on the plane. Apparently NWA’s scanning system was down, so they had to manually input each boarding pass. It took forever. We get on the plane, push back, and taxi out to the runway. As we make the final turn to takeoff… the engines power down. Boo. “This is your captain speaking. Because of some heavy rain in the New York area, they are having some traffic trouble a La Guardia. We probably won’t be able to take off for about an hour.” Double boo. I have not mentioned that I had a ticket to see the Mets play the Pirates at 1:10. Our flight is supposed to land at 12:13. Do the math. So, frustrated, yet resigned, I pull out my iPod. (Thanks Danielle!) I made it through one song when a commotion from the front of the plane caught my attention. A man, of unknown mental stability, was trying to JUMP OFF THE PLANE. The flight attendants subdue him, using quite a lot of physical force, and restrain him against the wall. As they have him pinned, he starts having a seizure. The pilot zooms into action and rushes us back to the gate. An hour and a half later, after much luggage drama from that party, refueling, and another 45 minute New York area ground stop, we are in the air headed for the Big Apple.
Flight lands, I hop on a bus and race (figure of speech. What bus actually races?) to Shea Stadium, home of the Amazin’ Mets (until next season when they will move into the lovely, yet typicaly post-modern CitiField). I get in and find my seat. This is the moment I have been waiting for... to be thoroughly grossed out. Shea is in bad shape. The seats are tiny, the ground is dirty, the concourses are cramped. I could go on for hours. I was still excited because I love those Mets. Who lost. To the Pittsburgh Pirates. Suckiest team ever. Dumb Mets… It was cool. The fans are pretty intense. The umpire made a questionable call, and I seriously thought that everyone who was on the first base side was about to jump on the field. As a fan next to me said, “These fans treat these players like sacrificial lambs.” No joke.
After retrieving my luggage (which I left at the airport) I went to Enobong’s. We had dinner and went to Times Square. It’s big, it’s bright, and it’s busy. We went to Coldstone where I ordered a coffee caramel milkshake. The girl looked at me like I had just ordered a lobster dinner. She consulted the recipe book, and (mind you, it is sitting right in front of her) instead of using coffee ice cream, she used sweet cream ice cream. I gently corrected her (again, like I ordered a lobster dinner) and 10 minutes later, I had my shake. A lot of the excitement was gone by that time.
The next morning we went to Central Park. The zoo wasn’t bad, but unfortunately they were doing a lot of renovation (much like the ENTIRE city) so they only had cold weather animals (penguins, seals, sea lions, polar bears etc.). We went to lunch at Serendipity 3. Yes, like the movie. I have not seen the movie, but I was assured by several people and a wall plaque, that this was where a portion of the movie was filmed. The food was good. They had a mean raisin-pumpernickel. Their dessert was even better. Word to the wise: bring your wallet. Not exactly a low budget affair. Not extravagant, but not the most affordable joint either.
On to the Met. I was impressed with the size of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s big. Really, really, really, really big. Gargantuan even. I looked for the Kincaid children, but apparently they were hanging out at the Frankweiler’s. Kidding. But seriously, it’s huge. Word to the photographers: don’t use flash.
We tried to win the lottery to get into a Broadway show, well, two. Wicked and Rent. We didn’t win. Boo. These people from Scotland were next to us at the Rent theatre, and they won six. Lame Scotland. It started pouring, so we went home. We had some amazing New York pizza, which, did I tell you was amazing? It was amazing.
Wednesday, I adventured out on my own. I went to Battery Park, and waited for 30 minutes to pick up my ticket to go to the Statue of Liberty. Word to the smart: buy your ticket online. EARLY. I strolled around the park while waiting on my ferry. I had a hot dog, and some Snapple. I LOVE SNAPPLE. If you want to ever give me something, give me Peach Tea Snapple. Better than (I shudder in admission of truth) Dr Pepper. Digression aside. As I walked around, I noticed the Korean War memorial. As I read the inscription, I found myself choking up a bit. All those people gave their lives for what? The UN? Please. I know, it was for South Korea, but really, it was just an effort to stop the spread of communism. Political gripes aside. The monument was cool. It had the silhouette of a soldier, with the inscription, “The Universal Soldier”, which I thought was really powerful. It didn’t matter what nation they were from, they were all there for the same reason. No one country was glorified above another. I finally got onto the ferry, and sailed (or ferried) away to Liberty Island. I walked around the island for a little while before I went into the statue. Once I waited through a really long security line (complete with air puffing) I entered the pedestal. The original torch was set in the foyer, which I was very impressed with. The walk up the stairs to the top of the pedestal was really steep. I was a little winded when I got to the top. (BTDub, you can’t go inside the crown anymore. The highest you can get it the base of the statue itself) I thought the view from the roof of Fort Wood (the statue sits atop it) was the best.
The tour of Ellis Island is beyond words. When you walk into the Great Hall, you are first taken by the immense size of the room. Then when you think about all the millions of people who streamed through there, it’s… Well, beyond words. There is a huge exhibit on the third floor, documenting everything that new arrivals went through. That was cool.
That evening I went to the Brooklyn Bridge. As many of you know, I am quite terrified of bridges. I don’t like being on them, yet I love them. Walking across was not the easiest thing to do, but it was worth it. The idea that such a massive project was conceived and completed without any modern technological assistance was inspiring. To see those 125 year old cable stays… Thursday-Saturday’s adventures to come…
Friday, August 8, 2008
Beware the eight...
Poor grammar drives me crazy. When spoken, it doesn’t really bother me; I guess hearing it constantly from the kids has tempered my distaste. Poorly written grammar is unforgivable. We got some material for Sunday School last week, but it seems to have been typed by a 14 year old. Or perhaps a well meaning adult who has no basic understanding of the proper use of an apostrophe. Yes, I know I began a sentence with a conjunction, but that is for proper conveyance of my verbal style. Plural words need no apostrophe! An apostrophe makes a noun possessive. I don’t know how many times I have had to correct that in the last couple days, but I assure you it was more than necessary. A lot of my nitpicky-ness comes from my dear mother. She was a teacher, and holds two different degrees, so she made sure that Ruth (my sister) and I were properly trained in good verbitisation.
I have always had trouble with the IE-EI combination in spelling. I know, “I before E except after C…” That doesn’t always work. For example, “Their.” Where is the C? In order for the IE rule to work, it would need to be spelled “Thceirs.” Or “Tcheirs.” Or the ultimate of ridiculousness, “C’Theirs.” That is the way the word would have been spelled if it was born in Bonton, and it adhered to the IE rule. It’s silly, I know, and I can spell correctly, but I have to check myself.
Math is something that has always eluded me. Numbers aren’t my favorite thing. I remember in the third grade putting personalities to the numbers 0-9. I only remember a couple. I was really bad at the 8-times tables, so 8 was evil. 3 was 4’s little brother who wanted nothing more than to be a 4. 6 was whiny. 7 didn’t like anyone. It (for some reason) used to fascinate me that 6x4=24, and 8x3=24. I used to imagine that 8 was terribly jealous of 6 and 4’s friendship, and so to get even, he kidnapped 3 and forced him to become 24 with him. The fact that 6 and 4 didn’t care, infuriated 8. In retaliation 8 stalked 6 wherever he went… It was part of my crazy childhood. It doesn’t really make sense, but it did back then.
I leave on a note familiar to those who grew up watching PBS. “Come and meet the Letter People, come and visit the family! Words are made from Letter People, A B C D… follow me!”
I have always had trouble with the IE-EI combination in spelling. I know, “I before E except after C…” That doesn’t always work. For example, “Their.” Where is the C? In order for the IE rule to work, it would need to be spelled “Thceirs.” Or “Tcheirs.” Or the ultimate of ridiculousness, “C’Theirs.” That is the way the word would have been spelled if it was born in Bonton, and it adhered to the IE rule. It’s silly, I know, and I can spell correctly, but I have to check myself.
Math is something that has always eluded me. Numbers aren’t my favorite thing. I remember in the third grade putting personalities to the numbers 0-9. I only remember a couple. I was really bad at the 8-times tables, so 8 was evil. 3 was 4’s little brother who wanted nothing more than to be a 4. 6 was whiny. 7 didn’t like anyone. It (for some reason) used to fascinate me that 6x4=24, and 8x3=24. I used to imagine that 8 was terribly jealous of 6 and 4’s friendship, and so to get even, he kidnapped 3 and forced him to become 24 with him. The fact that 6 and 4 didn’t care, infuriated 8. In retaliation 8 stalked 6 wherever he went… It was part of my crazy childhood. It doesn’t really make sense, but it did back then.
I leave on a note familiar to those who grew up watching PBS. “Come and meet the Letter People, come and visit the family! Words are made from Letter People, A B C D… follow me!”
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Big 10
Time flies sometimes. Other times, it crawls.
It seems like a life has come and gone. 10 years ago today, I discovered what it was like to loose someone you are extremely close to. August 5, 1998, my two closest friends, Lydia and Ana Diaz were killed in a wreck on I-10. It seems hard to believe that a decade ago, right now, I was mourning the loss of three (including their mother) wonderful people. I know it all sounds very cheap, seeing as how people die every day, but it really did make a huge difference in my life.
I sometimes wonder what my life would have been had they not died that day. Their dad once showed me the plans he made for the wedding he had already decided would happen between Lydia and me. Lydia Musyoki? Ugh. What a gross name. Not that James Musyoki is much better. Had I been involved with her, would I have made the mistakes I did? How about this one, would I have wound up at Metro? Who knows. It doesn’t really matter, none of it happened. I’m here and they are gone.
I used to have a really hard time on the 5th. I didn’t really cry about it, but I always was a little depressed. The 5th is actually the reason why I’m so unemotional. Someone told me in the midst of my well reasoned tears that, “There is nothing to cry about. Stop being so ridiculous.” Being an impressionable 11 year old, I quickly locked up my feelings, and have never really let them out. I was working on a lesson of Sidewalk today about the tongue. The verse is Proverbs 18:21, “The tongue has the power over life and death.” That’s for sure. That tongue had the power over my emotional death. I don’t dwell on it, and I am much better that I used to be, but I am still extremely reserved.
The last four years have flown by. I look back on 2004, and think “That was already four years ago?” I look back on 1998 and think, “It’s only been 10 years?” I guess since I have changed so much over the last decade, I have lived two totally different lives. The person who I was then really died that day. There is very little about me that remains. I still like Cracklin’ Oat Bran, and I still enjoy looking at stars, but barring trivial things, I am a different person. Obviously a 21 year old is different from how he is when he was 11, but the people I know from back then are at least recognizable from their 11 year old counterparts. Unless you stuck a bowl of Cracklin’ Oat Bran (which is mighty delicious) with a star chart placemat under my nose, you couldn’t really tell that we are the same person. Well, maybe not. I’m still REALLY bad at small talk. At 11, I had aspirations of being a world famous chef, with a part time job as a biology (?!?) teacher. I rarely cook now. I don’t have anything to do with biology. I still have a severe aversion to semi-trucks. My heart rate races, I get nervous, and my hands grip the steering wheel tight enough to crush adamantium (shout out X-Men!).
10 years. Time crawls when you’re radically changing!
My sister asked the question for the ages. “Who put the bomp in the bomp-bo-bomp-bo-bomp?” I feel that the person who finally answers that question should immediately win the Nobel Peace Prize, and the entire Nobel system should be RETIRED. Even the prize for physics.
It seems like a life has come and gone. 10 years ago today, I discovered what it was like to loose someone you are extremely close to. August 5, 1998, my two closest friends, Lydia and Ana Diaz were killed in a wreck on I-10. It seems hard to believe that a decade ago, right now, I was mourning the loss of three (including their mother) wonderful people. I know it all sounds very cheap, seeing as how people die every day, but it really did make a huge difference in my life.
I sometimes wonder what my life would have been had they not died that day. Their dad once showed me the plans he made for the wedding he had already decided would happen between Lydia and me. Lydia Musyoki? Ugh. What a gross name. Not that James Musyoki is much better. Had I been involved with her, would I have made the mistakes I did? How about this one, would I have wound up at Metro? Who knows. It doesn’t really matter, none of it happened. I’m here and they are gone.
I used to have a really hard time on the 5th. I didn’t really cry about it, but I always was a little depressed. The 5th is actually the reason why I’m so unemotional. Someone told me in the midst of my well reasoned tears that, “There is nothing to cry about. Stop being so ridiculous.” Being an impressionable 11 year old, I quickly locked up my feelings, and have never really let them out. I was working on a lesson of Sidewalk today about the tongue. The verse is Proverbs 18:21, “The tongue has the power over life and death.” That’s for sure. That tongue had the power over my emotional death. I don’t dwell on it, and I am much better that I used to be, but I am still extremely reserved.
The last four years have flown by. I look back on 2004, and think “That was already four years ago?” I look back on 1998 and think, “It’s only been 10 years?” I guess since I have changed so much over the last decade, I have lived two totally different lives. The person who I was then really died that day. There is very little about me that remains. I still like Cracklin’ Oat Bran, and I still enjoy looking at stars, but barring trivial things, I am a different person. Obviously a 21 year old is different from how he is when he was 11, but the people I know from back then are at least recognizable from their 11 year old counterparts. Unless you stuck a bowl of Cracklin’ Oat Bran (which is mighty delicious) with a star chart placemat under my nose, you couldn’t really tell that we are the same person. Well, maybe not. I’m still REALLY bad at small talk. At 11, I had aspirations of being a world famous chef, with a part time job as a biology (?!?) teacher. I rarely cook now. I don’t have anything to do with biology. I still have a severe aversion to semi-trucks. My heart rate races, I get nervous, and my hands grip the steering wheel tight enough to crush adamantium (shout out X-Men!).
10 years. Time crawls when you’re radically changing!
My sister asked the question for the ages. “Who put the bomp in the bomp-bo-bomp-bo-bomp?” I feel that the person who finally answers that question should immediately win the Nobel Peace Prize, and the entire Nobel system should be RETIRED. Even the prize for physics.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Oh come to the church in the ghetto, oh come to the church in the Cliff!
It’s funny how every so often God reminds you of the good you are doing.
There are many time is ministry, and especially inner-city ministry when you feel like you are doing nothing productive. There have been many days where I have gone home, convinced that I wasted my entire day, teaching kids who refused to listen. “Those stiff-necked kids!” I would exclaim to God. “They are driving me crazy!” There was one week in particular where I thought I was going to loose it on a little girl. The entire service she sat there talking, disrupting, and making fun of everyone around her. We were talking about forgiveness, which for reasons a-million is important, so I was really wanting these kids to grab a hold of it. It came time to pray, and this girl wigged out. She wanted to spit, she was talking at the top of her voice… Needless to say I was less than happy with her. If there is one thing you don’t do to Pastor James, it is talk while he’s praying. After service I let her have it. I grilled that girl (with as much love as I could muster) and dismissed her to her bus. I was annoyed. ‘Why?” I thought. “This girl DOES NOT LISTEN.” (This isn’t the first time that she has done this) I was pretty discouraged.
Earlier this week, I was working at my desk, going about my E-Newsletter business, when my phone rang. It was one of my kids, who is no longer a kid. This boy is pretty special to me. I have spent a lot of time with him, and have invested heavily into his life. A few months ago, he told me that he was possibly diabetic. He was really worried about it, and actually pretty scared. I talked to him about it, and reassured him that if you take care of it, diabetes isn’t that big of a deal. When he called me this week, he told me that he had just gotten home from the doctor, and that he was diabetes free. I was very happy for him, and told him so, but then he said something that almost made me cry. (For those of you who really know me, you know I don’t cry. It takes a lot to tear me up.) He said, “I wanted you to be the first one to know.” It made me realize that I am making a difference in kids lives; that I was in such a position in his life that he felt like he could share important news with me before anyone else. I’m not boasting, I know that I have only reached this place because God has directed it, but I am very appreciative that He has allowed to have such a role in someone’s life.
I love what I do. Many people still don’t understand why I do what I do. I do it so kids like the above boy can have a chance. I try to live my life in a way that glorifies God, and that shows who He is. The kids I work with don’t have a lot of positive in their lives, and very few have a lot of positive men. I felt a couple years ago that God wants me to be a big brother. Someone who cares for, protects and helps out others. Obviously I can’t be brother to the masses, but out the many, God brings just a few that I can really connect with and be a part of their lives. I want to teach these kids all I can about God. It’s really exciting because this generation knows so little about Him. I get to be a part of shaping a generation for Jesus. For the most part, I am a seed planter. I am the one who lays the basic foundation in kids lives. Every so often, I get to do more than just plant.
I do miss normal life sometimes, but then again, who is to decide what is normal? Metro is about to get super busy once again, but it will be good. There are some pretty exciting things in the works that I will get to share with you all soon. For now, all I have to say is,
“As the deer panteth o’er the water…” I hope that refrain gets stuck in your head!
There are many time is ministry, and especially inner-city ministry when you feel like you are doing nothing productive. There have been many days where I have gone home, convinced that I wasted my entire day, teaching kids who refused to listen. “Those stiff-necked kids!” I would exclaim to God. “They are driving me crazy!” There was one week in particular where I thought I was going to loose it on a little girl. The entire service she sat there talking, disrupting, and making fun of everyone around her. We were talking about forgiveness, which for reasons a-million is important, so I was really wanting these kids to grab a hold of it. It came time to pray, and this girl wigged out. She wanted to spit, she was talking at the top of her voice… Needless to say I was less than happy with her. If there is one thing you don’t do to Pastor James, it is talk while he’s praying. After service I let her have it. I grilled that girl (with as much love as I could muster) and dismissed her to her bus. I was annoyed. ‘Why?” I thought. “This girl DOES NOT LISTEN.” (This isn’t the first time that she has done this) I was pretty discouraged.
Earlier this week, I was working at my desk, going about my E-Newsletter business, when my phone rang. It was one of my kids, who is no longer a kid. This boy is pretty special to me. I have spent a lot of time with him, and have invested heavily into his life. A few months ago, he told me that he was possibly diabetic. He was really worried about it, and actually pretty scared. I talked to him about it, and reassured him that if you take care of it, diabetes isn’t that big of a deal. When he called me this week, he told me that he had just gotten home from the doctor, and that he was diabetes free. I was very happy for him, and told him so, but then he said something that almost made me cry. (For those of you who really know me, you know I don’t cry. It takes a lot to tear me up.) He said, “I wanted you to be the first one to know.” It made me realize that I am making a difference in kids lives; that I was in such a position in his life that he felt like he could share important news with me before anyone else. I’m not boasting, I know that I have only reached this place because God has directed it, but I am very appreciative that He has allowed to have such a role in someone’s life.
I love what I do. Many people still don’t understand why I do what I do. I do it so kids like the above boy can have a chance. I try to live my life in a way that glorifies God, and that shows who He is. The kids I work with don’t have a lot of positive in their lives, and very few have a lot of positive men. I felt a couple years ago that God wants me to be a big brother. Someone who cares for, protects and helps out others. Obviously I can’t be brother to the masses, but out the many, God brings just a few that I can really connect with and be a part of their lives. I want to teach these kids all I can about God. It’s really exciting because this generation knows so little about Him. I get to be a part of shaping a generation for Jesus. For the most part, I am a seed planter. I am the one who lays the basic foundation in kids lives. Every so often, I get to do more than just plant.
I do miss normal life sometimes, but then again, who is to decide what is normal? Metro is about to get super busy once again, but it will be good. There are some pretty exciting things in the works that I will get to share with you all soon. For now, all I have to say is,
“As the deer panteth o’er the water…” I hope that refrain gets stuck in your head!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Bleeding brain...
I don’t know about you, but there are certain commercials that I hate. They make me want to cause severe physical harm to my person. In contrast, there are some I love, like the Discovery Channel commercial with the singing astronauts. I love that song. I sing it sometimes. (see below) I know, I'm a looser. I know this, reminding me doesn't make it any more true. Anyway, my lameness is not what this entry is about though.
1. The Dump.
I HATE these commercials. If you don’t live in Dallas, you are blessed. If you do, is there anyone who likes those? “To the Dump, to the Dump , to the Dump, Dump, Dump!” The man who voices the commercials uses this noxious enthusiastic voice. Kill me, please.
2. Sleep Experts
They are all moderately irritating, but the one with the barbershop quartet drove me crazy. “Twin, full, queen, (high pitched now, all together!) or king, for one low priiiiiice!” Seriously?
3. Sprint
“I think I’m falling in love… with a phone!” How disgusting have Americans become that we would enjoy seeing a woman talk about having an affair with an inanimate object? It just gives me the creeps every time I see it. I wonder if the marketing executives thought they had a winner on their hands…
4. Sonic
The couple makes me mad. The woman is a jerk, and the guy is a idiot. “You don’t know what you want.” How rude can you get?
5. Great Wolf Lodge
AHHHHHHH!!!!!! I want to hit my radio every time one of these plays. It has a folksy tune, mixed with jingly saccharine sweetness. Then there is the wolf howl at the end that makes me want to burn down the Great Wolf Lodge. (Deep voice) “They’ve got... (Woman) “Lots of water…” (Deep voice) “They’ve got... (Woman) Lots of fun…” (Deep voice) “They’ve got... (Woman) “Lots of everything for everyone!” Gross.
6.Geico Cavemen
Enough Said.
7. PedEgg
This is possibly one of the most disgusting commercials ever. It is a foot shaver. Bad enough? Not yet! First they show these funky feet in sandals, and they demonstrate using a traditional foot shaver. Of course the woman can’t use it. (What is it with informercials making it seem like traditional tools are harder to use than a slide rule?) On a silky pedestal appears the PedEgg. They show a group of women happily PedEgging their feet in a large group. Do any women actually shave their feet in a group? I doubt it. Then to make things worse, they talk about how “traditional shavers make such a mess” (the shavings are flying everywhere with a woman looking very frustrated). Then the announcer boasts that the PedEgg “keeps all the shavings contained!” So what do they do? They promptly dump the shavings out on a black towel! I think that they took it too far. Blasted PedEgg.
8. Cialis
Two people sitting in a bathtub, on a hill? Do they realize how heavy cast iron is? How are Sally and unnamed guy supposed to drag those things out there, and fill them up? Who has two spare claw foot bathtubs? Who would want to go through the hassle?
9. Bowflex
One line- “I gave all my fat clothes to my fat friends.” !!!!!! Excuse me, but did you just call out your friends on national TV and accuse them of obesity? What a dipstick. I hope his friends dumped his butt.
10. A T & T
The one where “Jen” is hanging out with the “dorky boy”. All we need is to reinforce to teenage girls that it’s ok to be a jerk and look down upon people. Teenage girls are rude enough, so why not encourage them to be more so! Besides, “cute and popular Paul” will wind up addicted to Vicodin, an alcoholic and become co-dependant on his mother anyway.
Enough for today. Are there any you hate? Join the festivities.
Just for Fun
1. The Dump.
I HATE these commercials. If you don’t live in Dallas, you are blessed. If you do, is there anyone who likes those? “To the Dump, to the Dump , to the Dump, Dump, Dump!” The man who voices the commercials uses this noxious enthusiastic voice. Kill me, please.
2. Sleep Experts
They are all moderately irritating, but the one with the barbershop quartet drove me crazy. “Twin, full, queen, (high pitched now, all together!) or king, for one low priiiiiice!” Seriously?
3. Sprint
“I think I’m falling in love… with a phone!” How disgusting have Americans become that we would enjoy seeing a woman talk about having an affair with an inanimate object? It just gives me the creeps every time I see it. I wonder if the marketing executives thought they had a winner on their hands…
4. Sonic
The couple makes me mad. The woman is a jerk, and the guy is a idiot. “You don’t know what you want.” How rude can you get?
5. Great Wolf Lodge
AHHHHHHH!!!!!! I want to hit my radio every time one of these plays. It has a folksy tune, mixed with jingly saccharine sweetness. Then there is the wolf howl at the end that makes me want to burn down the Great Wolf Lodge. (Deep voice) “They’ve got... (Woman) “Lots of water…” (Deep voice) “They’ve got... (Woman) Lots of fun…” (Deep voice) “They’ve got... (Woman) “Lots of everything for everyone!” Gross.
6.Geico Cavemen
Enough Said.
7. PedEgg
This is possibly one of the most disgusting commercials ever. It is a foot shaver. Bad enough? Not yet! First they show these funky feet in sandals, and they demonstrate using a traditional foot shaver. Of course the woman can’t use it. (What is it with informercials making it seem like traditional tools are harder to use than a slide rule?) On a silky pedestal appears the PedEgg. They show a group of women happily PedEgging their feet in a large group. Do any women actually shave their feet in a group? I doubt it. Then to make things worse, they talk about how “traditional shavers make such a mess” (the shavings are flying everywhere with a woman looking very frustrated). Then the announcer boasts that the PedEgg “keeps all the shavings contained!” So what do they do? They promptly dump the shavings out on a black towel! I think that they took it too far. Blasted PedEgg.
8. Cialis
Two people sitting in a bathtub, on a hill? Do they realize how heavy cast iron is? How are Sally and unnamed guy supposed to drag those things out there, and fill them up? Who has two spare claw foot bathtubs? Who would want to go through the hassle?
9. Bowflex
One line- “I gave all my fat clothes to my fat friends.” !!!!!! Excuse me, but did you just call out your friends on national TV and accuse them of obesity? What a dipstick. I hope his friends dumped his butt.
10. A T & T
The one where “Jen” is hanging out with the “dorky boy”. All we need is to reinforce to teenage girls that it’s ok to be a jerk and look down upon people. Teenage girls are rude enough, so why not encourage them to be more so! Besides, “cute and popular Paul” will wind up addicted to Vicodin, an alcoholic and become co-dependant on his mother anyway.
Enough for today. Are there any you hate? Join the festivities.
Just for Fun
Thursday, July 31, 2008
"Hey you, get off of my back."
"Summer time and the living's..." (gunshot, as a lone assassin forever ends Sublime's reign of terror by shooting the radio, freeing us from lyrical lies. The peasants rejoice...)
Ahh, summer. The time to relax, unwind and put your thoughts in order for the coming year… Please.
We kicked off the summer with the 14th annual Dallas Metro Summer Camp. It was amazing. We took over 300 kids and 100 staff for a fun filled… Wait. That’s the E-Newsletter. If you would like to read the official report, please visit http://www.dallasmetro.net/.
I was the boys dean, which means that if any of the kids got in trouble, I was the one that would come and talk to (ominous music). I also yelled a lot to keep things moving. It was a good weekend. I took 46 kids from Lakewest (my site) which I was pretty excited about. I only had 4 no shows, which is only 10%. In contrast, last year I had a 30% no show rate. Booya. I think LW did pretty darn well. I loaded them all up in my awesome 1979 International bus, and headed to Maypearl. It was hot, but good.
Jump forward a couple weeks. We had our first ever, “Taking it to the streets” at the end of June. Each morning, a group from Corrigan, TX (look it up) did a VBS for the kids at the Larry Johnson center. It was fantastic. They really did a good job. Each night, a group from Grand Prairie (which, from here on out will be known as GP) did services in four of our neighborhoods. That was special. I won’t go into detail here, but if you would like, you can e-mail me, and I still won’t go into detail. Let me just say this. Please don’t berate me about our sound systems. I know they suck, but they are all we have, and we make do. They are old, and they are in trucks. What do you want? We do our best. As D-Rhagg says, “We do our best, and God does the rest.”
I digress.
What really impressed me about this group was that even though they were from the capitol of the middle of nowhere, they worked with these messy little inner-city kids as though they were their own. As I watched the events through the week, I was reminded of my own VBS experience with Metro. Well, not quite. Ours wasn’t this good, these kids had to neither eat at the LJ Center every day, nor did they have to sand a bus. (Shout out if you were on that trip! Crustables and wet sandpaper FOREVER!!!) It was a long week for sure, but it was rewarding to all involved. I hope this group comes back. I can assure you that I don’t always hope that.
Two weeks later, I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I got to be the camp speaker at HCC’s Camp 56. I loved it. I loved the shaving cream, I loved the kids, I loved being able to share my passion for God, I loved everything. It was really cool to see that seven of the kids were in my four-year old class. Mind you, they are in 5th and 6th grade now. Jeena laughed at me. (By the way, if you need or would like to know who all these people in the stories I tell are, just ask me. I will clarify. The identity of the soon to be famed D-Rhagg will remain a mystery) I believe she said, “Haha. It’s [feeling old] happening to you!” For those of you that don’t know, HCC (Harvest Christian Center) is my home church, and Jeena Lee and Beverly Spillman were my children’s pastors growing up. They are awesome. It was a great experience, and I hope that the kids remember what I spoke about.
It has been a good summer. Many other events transpired, but aren’t they already documented in the books of the kings of Judah?
Ahh, summer. The time to relax, unwind and put your thoughts in order for the coming year… Please.
We kicked off the summer with the 14th annual Dallas Metro Summer Camp. It was amazing. We took over 300 kids and 100 staff for a fun filled… Wait. That’s the E-Newsletter. If you would like to read the official report, please visit http://www.dallasmetro.net/.
I was the boys dean, which means that if any of the kids got in trouble, I was the one that would come and talk to (ominous music). I also yelled a lot to keep things moving. It was a good weekend. I took 46 kids from Lakewest (my site) which I was pretty excited about. I only had 4 no shows, which is only 10%. In contrast, last year I had a 30% no show rate. Booya. I think LW did pretty darn well. I loaded them all up in my awesome 1979 International bus, and headed to Maypearl. It was hot, but good.
Jump forward a couple weeks. We had our first ever, “Taking it to the streets” at the end of June. Each morning, a group from Corrigan, TX (look it up) did a VBS for the kids at the Larry Johnson center. It was fantastic. They really did a good job. Each night, a group from Grand Prairie (which, from here on out will be known as GP) did services in four of our neighborhoods. That was special. I won’t go into detail here, but if you would like, you can e-mail me, and I still won’t go into detail. Let me just say this. Please don’t berate me about our sound systems. I know they suck, but they are all we have, and we make do. They are old, and they are in trucks. What do you want? We do our best. As D-Rhagg says, “We do our best, and God does the rest.”
I digress.
What really impressed me about this group was that even though they were from the capitol of the middle of nowhere, they worked with these messy little inner-city kids as though they were their own. As I watched the events through the week, I was reminded of my own VBS experience with Metro. Well, not quite. Ours wasn’t this good, these kids had to neither eat at the LJ Center every day, nor did they have to sand a bus. (Shout out if you were on that trip! Crustables and wet sandpaper FOREVER!!!) It was a long week for sure, but it was rewarding to all involved. I hope this group comes back. I can assure you that I don’t always hope that.
Two weeks later, I had one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I got to be the camp speaker at HCC’s Camp 56. I loved it. I loved the shaving cream, I loved the kids, I loved being able to share my passion for God, I loved everything. It was really cool to see that seven of the kids were in my four-year old class. Mind you, they are in 5th and 6th grade now. Jeena laughed at me. (By the way, if you need or would like to know who all these people in the stories I tell are, just ask me. I will clarify. The identity of the soon to be famed D-Rhagg will remain a mystery) I believe she said, “Haha. It’s [feeling old] happening to you!” For those of you that don’t know, HCC (Harvest Christian Center) is my home church, and Jeena Lee and Beverly Spillman were my children’s pastors growing up. They are awesome. It was a great experience, and I hope that the kids remember what I spoke about.
It has been a good summer. Many other events transpired, but aren’t they already documented in the books of the kings of Judah?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
A stab in the dark
I was reading someone's blog today, and I felt inspired to create one, so here we are. Some might say, "You have a MySpace, and you didn't often update your blog, what will be different?" Well, I can't honestly tell you. Who the heck cares, I'm going to try.
This whole blog will just be my random thoughts. Christianity, friends, cars, annoyances, cats or whatever comes to my mind.
For example, today my legs hurt. Why? Becasue I walked about a million miles the other day. That would be hyperbole, but it was alot of podiatric strain. Crissy and I went to Austin becasue she had never been. We went to the Capitol, the State History Museum, and UT. Let me just state that UT is flipping huge. FWI, all the fountains are off. Sucks for you. She really enjoyed it, as did I, but we were really tired at the end of the day. We went to Magnolia Cafe, the Hula Hut and Amy's Ice Cream. It was a day of delicious historicity.
Yesterday, we moved Clay and Barbara. Holy cow, I have never walked up and down stairs more in one day than yesterday.
Needless to say, my legs are not the happiest with me.
I am not going to make them any happier by going to the Rangers game tonight. More on that later.
Today's informative thought? "When you move, use boxes."
This whole blog will just be my random thoughts. Christianity, friends, cars, annoyances, cats or whatever comes to my mind.
For example, today my legs hurt. Why? Becasue I walked about a million miles the other day. That would be hyperbole, but it was alot of podiatric strain. Crissy and I went to Austin becasue she had never been. We went to the Capitol, the State History Museum, and UT. Let me just state that UT is flipping huge. FWI, all the fountains are off. Sucks for you. She really enjoyed it, as did I, but we were really tired at the end of the day. We went to Magnolia Cafe, the Hula Hut and Amy's Ice Cream. It was a day of delicious historicity.
Yesterday, we moved Clay and Barbara. Holy cow, I have never walked up and down stairs more in one day than yesterday.
Needless to say, my legs are not the happiest with me.
I am not going to make them any happier by going to the Rangers game tonight. More on that later.
Today's informative thought? "When you move, use boxes."
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