BoldUlysses.com

My apartment has people in it. It’s quite wonderful, but something of an adjustment, because to my great consternation sometimes, things actually move from where I set them down over the course of a day. It’s okay, though.

I’m making headway into the organizational structure and politics at work, learning all I can and asking stupid questions more often than not. One of the higher-ups in the chain of command really liked a design I put together for a new boat we’re designing. Instant clout in the boss’s eyes. After the compliment by the individual he strives most to please, we’re suddenly on the same footing. It’s nice to be validated.

In other news, I’m getting a new (old) car. Any (positive) change in the automotive arena that affects me personally is a very good thing. In theory, I could have gotten whatever I wanted, but in reality my grandmother is lending me the money since I need the car now, so I had to conjure up some criteria to appease her and my parents, who are in a position to influence her decision to lend me the money. My criteria were:

– Reliable
– Safe
– Reasonably economical with fuel
– Something I could work on (i.e. not too complex)
– Good long distance cruiser (for visits back home)
– Air-conditionned

Of course, all these would be satisfied by the first Camry I came across. They were my primary criteria. My secondary criteria were:

– Manual transmission (less to go wrong–I hate automatics, and more economical)
– Rear wheel drive (adheres to my basic philosophy concerning cars: One end should push and one end should turn)

When you add all this up the only reasonable choice becomes an ’86-’91 Toyota Supra. But once again this did not satisfy me so I went back and added tertiary criteria:

– Good-looking (i.e. well-proportioned)
– Turbocharged

And this narrows it down to either an ’87 or ’88 Toyota Supra Turbo 5-speed. And wouldn’t you know it, I found one in Atlanta; I just have to go retrieve it next Saturday. Pictures sent to me for your viewing pleasure:

1 2 3 4 5

It’s going to happen. It’s inevitable. I just know that one of these days… I just don’t know when.

I’m going to unwittingly trod on a dead jellyfish while running on the beach, and its little soft body will explode and send jellyfish entrails up into my face or something…

I’m fine with everything else, but gelatinous things–no. Snakes: piece o’ cake. Spiders: Oh, isn’t he cute. Lizards, worms: no sweat. But slugs, snails, jellyfish: GETITOFFGETITOFF! NOW!

Like I was telling Erin a few days ago on the phone, if I had been present when God was creating the animals, I would have said, “Y’know, God, these squishy creatures, can we rethink those? Ya gotta draw the line somewhere. Sir.”

It’s my only phobia and I’m sticking by it.

I think I might go home this weekend. It’s Erin’s last fencing tournament of the season, and I’m certainly not doing anything. It would get me out of the apartment, if nothing else, and (not having to drive home 3 or 4 times a week) I haven’t had a good long car trip in a little while. It clears the mind. We’ll see. I’d start tomorrow morning, so I’d have most of Saturday.

In other news, I get to keep a copy of the first part I made. It’s a plastic silverware tray that I modeled in Pro/E and they made in the vacuformer machine. It fits perfectly where it’s supposed to, so I did my job well. Geno congratulated me :o) I now have more stuff to model. I guess this is how one begins fitting into one’s place of employment. It’s affirming, once I get past all the stress. I feel useful, and people are understanding that I may not know everything. Life is quite rosy here when I’m looking side-to-side at my coworkers in the same plane of the chain of command, and not upwards to all the bigwigs who only deal with abstracts and have no management skills. It’s all about one’s perspective. The workday and week have ended on a good note.

An extra half hour would do marvels for my morale after lunch… I’m just too rushed.

I’m waiting for the black beans and rice to cook at the moment, then I shall polish off what’s left of my cornbread and call it a lunch :o)

I was typing at my computer a few moments ago when I heard a loud whistling behind me, like from a haunted house, and a clunk from outside the bedroom door. It’s very windy outside today, and the blinds, which were drawn down over the slightly cracked window, were pressed up against the aperture as the wind rushed through the house, opening the front door (hence the clunk) and creating the whistle as the air was sucked in between the individual blinds. It scared the mess out of me :o)

Rice is done. Have a lovely afternoon, everyone.

I’ve easily polished off at least a third of the pan. It’s far and away my greatest culinary success down here in Florida. They’re absolutely irresistible and fill the kitchen and more with a warm, blanket-like scent.

Brownies. Rich, chewy, pure, fudge-like brownies, mouth-watering in their slightly crumbly yumminess. No nuts to dilute the essence of chocolately goodness spread throughout each square as I scrape it off the pan. So, so good. Yum. I’m going to blow up like a balloon.

:o)

The rain has been coming down all day outside… It’s interesting to live someplace where the weather remains reasonably consistent; i.e. when it rains it rains for a while, and when it’s beautiful, that lasts too. I’ve only been here three weeks, though, perhaps I shouldn’t speak too soon?

There’s a cat outside plodding around the puddles. I suspect it’s out there out of necessity–it looks rather dejected, like soaked cats tend to. And yet it will sit on its haunches for a bit and survey its surroundings. I think if I were a cat outside today I would be scratching and clawing at the first door I came to.

I feel somewhat better. I’m making black beans and rice, and my second attempt at cornbread (since last summer). At least I have actual Jiffy mix this time around. The only problem was that the box didn’t tell me what temperature to set the oven, and being a male, I don’t instinctively know. I set the oven at 350. It seemed a good middle-of-the-dial number. Any verdicts on this?

A shower with a real bar of soap helped, instead of those little wafers I stole from the hotel, as well as some actual Pert Plus, rather than the vial I pilfered. I just wish I didn’t run out of hot water. It kind of stinks, especially since I’m not even running the dishwasher or anything.

Back to The Two Towers while the cornbread bakes. Be back later.

Going to bed much too late–I need more catch-up sleep than this. I have absolutely no reason to complain: I’m a young, reasonably fit individual living in a beautiful part of the world with a good job. And yet I feel terrible. There is some definite spiritual warfare going on here; I’m convinced of it. Every thought I have is dragged down. It’s like there’s no room for optimism at the moment, even if I would make it. The swearing at work is really starting to get to me as well. I suspect that being employed at a place that has some connection to seafaring probably has something to do with it. I guess I’m just thin-skinned. No, I’m not, but three weeks of mis-management and countless frustrations around me at work being vented in such terms grates on my mind and emotions. You prayers would be more than appreciated.

I would lie down now, but I know I won’t fall asleep–of all the nights to be restless…

*sigh*

I got a boat ride today. Rick and I went out in the 40 Open in order to evaluate some defects in the hull–it rolls to the left (“heels to port”) underway… It’s an interesting commentary on the state of quality control here when the hull could have made it all the way through the pipeline to a finished boat with a hull flaw like that. I dunno what they’re going to do, but it was pretty cool nonetheless. The interior layout leaves a lot to be desired as far as I’m concerned, but that’ll be my department, so it’s something I intend to remedy as best I can. The experience was like riding in a giant, amphibious SUV. The big twin diesel engines underneath the helm roared almost deafeningly under full power, and the bow rose up on the water. The helm was in a position of command, kind of like the high seating perch in a Ford Explorer or an equivalent. The diesel fumes, backdrafting through the cockpit area, made me more sick than the movement of the boat. I climbed up top, even, and experienced the helm area up there. It’s a ways off the ground. I suppose it’s perched so high in order to be able to spot groups of fish from far off. I learned a lot. It was neat to finally ride in one of the boats I’ll be designing.

Geno, Greg, and I went to Larry’s Subs for lunch. We’re thinking about making it a Friday tradition. It’s payday, after all. I had a foot-long meatball sub. Mmm. Not up to Jersey Mike standards but still yummy.

It’s rainy now, and grey outside.

I think the stress is getting to me again like it did a couple of weeks ago. I really do not feel good. It’s Friday, even. The weekends are so short now; only two days like they’re supposed to be, I reckon. Is it good that as soon as I arrive I can’t wait for the day to be over? Normal, perhaps, but after three weeks of work?

*sigh*

Okay. I’ll make it. His Word says that we shall run and not grow weary… I wonder if sitting behind a desk and plugging away at a stupid computer program would still qualify for that promise?

It’s a slow afternoon at work. I’m making a little bit of headway here establishing my position. All the guys are great, which helps a lot with not getting too discouraged. Triscuits are addictive also, by the way.

I really really want a nap. In the sunshine. And the breeze.

I need to run when I return, though. I think it will be an easy run. Unfortunately Geno (one of my coworkers) ran last night so he’s not up to it today. Maybe later on in the week or next week, though.

I’m sleepy.

I decided not to go to Miami. I have lots of things I can be doing here on my day off, important things, and I don’t want to drive 10 hours today only to fight my way into a parking space. I can be more productive here, and I was very, very tired this morning. So there :o)

This weekend was absolutely wonderful. The weather even behaved for us, which I wasn’t sure it would do. Erin and Elyse made it here and back just fine in their car of dubious reliability, and we had great fun walking leisurely through downtown St. Augustine, browsing the shops and absorbing the atmosphere. Dinner that night was great as well, even if I did get a bit ill from the wine.

But the apartment is empty again. It’s neat and boring. Perhaps I should make a mess or raise a ruckus just for variety… No, that would just be dumb, and no fun besides when I’m by myself. Messes and ruckuses are so much more fun when you have a partner (or partners) in crime. Well, it’s off to the bank and the DMV and the Y and perhaps the haircutters for me :o)

Whitecaps this afternoon, and all of today, actually. Lots of them. It was a blustery day, which made running down the beach rather difficult, but the return trip was a doozie :o) The ocean is beautiful in the evening. The lavender clouds span their darkening limbs across the sky, reaching desperately for the opposite horizon. The ocean churned under the assault of the wind, sending tufts of sea-form skittering across the smooth sand from the edges of the waves. It was breathtaking, which understandably made running all the more tricky.

Happy Valentine’s day, all, and happy 21 to Erin.

I finally finished putting all my posters and pictures up around the apartment. Only after doing so, though, I realized that they’re all at a comfortable height for me, i.e. eye level or so, which might be more than a little high for the 50th percentile. Oh well. It’s my apartment :o)

I was cutting pictures out of a calendar to place up earlier, and I was playing a George Winston record, beautiful, lilting piano music, and the silvery sound of wind chimes outside someone else’s apartment came through the open window, weaving its way around the notes of the piano… I paused for a minute or two and just listened.

To bed with me. No more 1 a.m. updates for a while, I’m afraid.

This has to be quick–the computer gurus will return any minute and go to work on my machine again. At least I have my own…

It’s drippy outside. I heard what must have been some native Floridians complaining about the general clamminess… I almost went up to them and said, “You have no idea.”

:o)

Oops, back to work.

A misty rain is falling outside… It was heavier earlier, and the office lost power for a fraction of a second–just long enough to cut the computers off. One good thing about using the boss’s computer is that it has a backup so you don’t lose anything :o) Some colorful words were being passed around outside the boss’s cubicle, though…

I swear I’ve called like 15 places. They’re either in sketchy neighborhoods, or the rent is too high, or they have a waiting list months long. If the visit I have scheduled this afternoon to an apartment complex doesn’t pan out, I’m going to go with the first apartment, the one practically on the beach.

“You Better Get This Party Started” by Pink came on the radio as I was driving to get lunch in the rain. It had been a little while since I had heard it last, so I started kinda moving a little bit to it, cocking my hand on the top of the steering wheel, etc, when the irony of it all dawned on me as she sang, “We’ll be lookin’ flashy in my Mercedes-Benz…” and I was cruising around in a dented Taurus station wagon. Yeah.

The supermarket Publix is the embodiment of Le Corbusier’s vision for society in the 1920’s. The aisles are spotless, everyone is unerringly friendly; the cashier smiles a smile that doesn’t seem by rote as she hands me my change. It’s like shopping in a parallel universe, one where humanity’s basic instincts are good and all malice has been tempered out of society. Very surreal.

Another furtive entry at the boss’s desk, while working on Pro/E… It’s actually coming along pretty well–Geno just taught me how to put drafts into the parts; it’s remarkably similar to SolidWorks, the modeling program I used over the summer, so I anticipate a few months before I achieve guru status (just kidding).

I got to rub shoulders with the big bosses yesterday. One of the guys from Hunter (the sailboat division of the company) came over here to Luhrs, and I accompanied him to check out a 30-footer prototype that had just been completed and was sitting just inside the big warehouse. While there, Mr. Warren Luhrs (the owner of the whole kit and caboodle), who lives up in New Jersey or some such place, dropped by, as he is prone to do, to check out the boat with some other bigwigs. I met him; he seemed very personable and actually remembered my name at the end, something by which I was very impressed. The bigshots and I spent a good two hours in the cabin of the prototype discussing minor tweaks and alterations in preparation for the annual Miami boat show. I didn’t say much, but offered my opinion a couple of times, and (I believe) was met with general approval. It was a confidence-booster and helped me learn a lot about what’s involved in production, just being there and talking about various aspects of the boat. ‘Twas cool.

My search for a relatively inexpensive, decent apartment has been unfruitful lately. There’s a good chance I might get the one the romantic side of me really wants to get but the practical side has minor reservations about. It’s not terribly cheap, but I did budget for it, and if I found a roommate, things would be ideal. It’s a two-bedroom, one and a half bath that’s about two blocks from the beach. Anybody want to move to St. Augustine? Only $350 a month… No psychos, please.

And every stop is neatly planned
For a poet and a one-man band

No, I haven’t found an apartment yet. I haven’t even gotten my own computer at the office yet :o) I’m using the boss’s while he’s out for a couple of days. I have to learn Pro/Engineer somehow… This entry still feels a bit clandestine, however. I’m here, and I’m fine. The trip went quickly, the car held up, and I’m in a halfway decent hotel searching for an apartment with all my spare time. Orientation here at Luhrs was this morning, and incredibly boring. I swear I used all the ink in the pen they gave me signing forms. But I read them all, don’t worry :o)

Everyone here is great. There are even two cars guys up here in the engineering department. One is into old cars and working on them, and the other one is into racing and everything related to that, so both hemispheres of the car-loving part of me are satisfied. Oops, I think I need to get back to the tutorial before somebody looks over my shoulder.

Have a great day, everybody :o)

I am leaving, I am leaving
But the fighter still remains

Farewell, North Carolina. I think a little James Taylor might be in order too as I make the trip down to Florida tomorrow morning. But for now, S & G will suffice. I won’t be online until I find an apartment and plug in the phone line to the computer, so this will be the last post for a little while. I will send everyone my email and snail mail addresses whence I get settled. Prayers would be appreciated. I feel very alone at the moment, but I know the Lord is watching over everything I do and orchestrating events. I just wish folks would at least be in town when I move 9 hours down the road… But that’s the selfish me talking. I need to get packing–I have to stay alert tomorrow; no time to change out of lert form.

:o) And with that bit of corniness I will leave this fine state.

*waves*

Slow Saturdays… I really need to finish packing. What’s daunting about the situation isn’t the packing, but the things I need to take care of when I get down there: apartment, phone, internet, car, and the list goes on, not mention the job. I think lists will be my companions in the coming weeks.

Once again, I had way to many conversation hearts, then I went and watched my brother play 007 on the PS2–bad idea. It’s a first-person shooter type of game, which means all you can see is the weapon floating there in front of you, so my vision and inner-ear sensations were not coordinating, combined with too much sugar… Yeah. I had to leave the room. I think I’m still experiencing the residual effects of that… No, I didn’t heave, but it wasn’t pleasant, neither.

Feeling overwhelmed, anyone?

It’s Friday; let the transition commence. On Monday I will be in a new state with a new job and a whole new set of responsibilities. I honestly can’t wait for it to start.

Cleo’s (our cat’s) motor is on permanently today. It’s so beautiful outside, and she’s expressing her approval…

Rock climbing yesterday was a lot of fun. It’s definitely something I’m going to continue doing, even if I can’t talk any of the guys at work into doing it with me. There’s something about that is just the pure essence of a challenge–going straight up, fighting the most basic force in nature, gravity. I could wax poetic about it all day, suffice it to say that it rules; try it :o)

Tonight is the last hurrah for friends in the area. We’re going out to a nice restaurant, to laugh and carry on in each others’ company. Perhaps I’ll have some wine; who knows. I’m sure it will be bittersweet by the end. Now, to make reservations…

My rustoration project and vehicular inheritance…

For sale to a good home

Another view of the cute for sale car.

Please pray for a young man in our church, Jonathan. He was diagnosed with leukemia a few weeks ago and is really in a bad way in the ICU at the hospital. He and his family really need a miracle at this point. Lift him up, if you would.

Finally, finally got hold of someone in the personnel department down in Florida. Based on their pay schedule, it would be ideal for me to start this coming Monday. I’ve used my Bed, Bath, and Beyond and Pier 1 gift cards; I’m all set (although I still kind of wish I had bought that picnic basket at Pier 1… Oh well).

I need shaving cream, a PCV valve gasket for Twinkie, and a set of measuring cups. That’s my shopping list for today.

Straighter than well-marked arrow’s flight, the sunbeams cascade upon the world, their progress halted only by the leaves, which splinter the rays into sun-petals which quiver on the soil in the blushing breeze.

Where have you gone, innocence? I can capture glimpses of you, but the deep-breathing revelry in the scent of the grass seems lost. My heart feels a long-standing tiredness from the daily exertions, and I exhale. When, Lord? When will I clasp her hands in mine and spiral about through the greenness of our own mirth before You? Let me come quickly to her, Father.

Chewing on a bent paperclip
T-shirt and jeans
I got a new hood emblem for the Datsun

I feel good tonight.

The weather is beautiful, wish you were here.

Chips Ahoy + Milk + Calvin and Hobbes = a recipe for a relaxing Saturday evening.

Today was fun. David and I took the last remnants of the Taurus’s engine swap in the back of the truck to the junkyard today. We had a bit of trouble finding the place this morning, but came across it soon enough. There was a line of vehicles ahead of us waiting to unload their respective cargoes. As we rounded the bend alongside the warehouse we could see behind it, giant piles of scrap metal from every possible source, halves of trucks parked permanently at the tops of the mountains of steel, refrigerators, dumpsters, anything… Several magnetic cranes were heavy-handedly sifting through the piles, swinging their chains about. After we drove across the scales, we took our aluminum radiators to a door in the side of the warehouse. We then proceeded to back the truck up through the mud towards one of the cranes. David lowered the tailgate, and the giant electromagnet swung down above the truck’s bed. It hovered there, coming closer, and we could feel the back of the truck being lifted slightly by the force. Suddenly, with a clunk, the Taurus’s old engine, which must have weighed three hundred pounds, rose and stuck to the magnet like a postcard to a fridge. The crane swung away and deposited the engine before it came back for more car parts. Being male and thus addicted to any display of power of any sort, that necessarily made our morning. We talked about it for a good part of the way home.

I had car duty today. I fixed the van’s rear window, installed the new antenna on my rust-oration project, the datsun, and removed the latter’s bumper overriders. The car looks so much better now, cleaner, more taut. I’m going to miss tinkering with it when I move down to Florida.

I accepted the job yesterday. I asked for a bit more money, and got it, and the rest of the deal sounded good, so I took their offer. I’ll be going down to start work and look for an apartment probably sometime near the end of next week. Let the Adventure begin. I’ve been waiting for this.

I’ll probably take the job down in St. Augustine, barring any amazing job leads tomorrow on the phone. I won’t be rich, by I will more than get by, and who knows, I might actually get to purchase a few goodies for my 240z along the way (replacement floor pan would be at the top of the list). We’ll see. I won’t go crazy or anything, but I suspect a new (old) car will be in the picture shortly.

Thank you, everyone who wished me happy birthday and came to see me. The party was a complete surprise, and even Tim came, which was really nice. He spent the night, and we stayed up late watching the greatest movie ever made, along with a really bad comic on Conan and some halfway decent Leno skits. Thanks for making the trek, Tim. It was good to see you.

I got a book about Formula 1 racing, some peppermint tea to go along with my teapot (now I really am going to have to become a tea drinker. It’s decaf, even), a copy of All Things Great and Small by James Henriot, a copy of my favorite movie (Joe Versus the Volcano, which, as I never tire of saying, is the greatest movie ever made. It’s got it all, in case you didn’t know), and a coupon from Erin for a free rock-climbing lesson, something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. It was an eclectic assortment of gifts, and much, much appreciated. Thank you all.

Please pray for my good friend Tim. He’s hurting right now.

The trip this weekend was a resounding success. Thank you all for your prayers. They certainly made a difference. The car held together admirably, and didn’t get clobbered by any deer during the pea-soup-foggy last few hours of the drive home. The wedding was very nice, I ate some carrot cake, and I got a job offer.

Rachel and Justin’s wedding was sweet. I met quite a number of new people, and even attempted to dance a bit at the reception. The results of the attempts were uninspiring, but I’m not giving up, dang it. I have rhythm, just not consistency or originality when I need it. I’ll get over it, though.

The weather was amazing–70 degrees the whole time with just a light wind, enough to ruffle one’s hair, and when it did rain a bit, the warm, full spring raindrops fell…

I tried carrot cake for the first time on Sunday night, and enjoyed it. Conversation with my aunt and uncle (with whom we were staying) was relaxing, and two whole nights of sleep in their immensely comfortable guest house were beyond reproach as well.

The interview was short today. I seem to have misjudged my potential supervisor’s personality a bit. He’s still not quite all there, I get the impression, but not so much that I couldn’t work under him successfully. His conversational style over the phone threw me off a bit is what it was. I got a quick tour of the plant, saw the awe-inspiring 5-axis CNC router (my brother would love to get his hands on one of those), went over my portfolio, and that was it. Then he offered me the job, flat out. I was a bit taken aback for a moment; all I could say was, “Well, I appreciate you being so forthcoming about it…” Coming right out of school, basically, I would be the single most significant individual responsible for the entire aesthetic feel and interior layout of $400,000 sport fishing boats, living in one of the most beautiful areas of the east coast.. Needless to say, eek. He took me down to Personnel, where I told him I’d have to think it over and that I’d get back with him very, very soon. So I’m praying like a madman about this… I’ll let him know either tomorrow or Wednesday at the latest, and I would be down there at the beginning of next week. Things are moving quickly…

Et aujourd’hui, c’est mon anniversaire! J’ai vingt-trois ans!

Matt’s nightly update. I should make this like a nightly newscast. I should post earlier in the day, giving the headlines, and then saying, “Details at 1 a.m.” :o) Well, maybe not…

Iced oatmeal cookies are the best, especially when they’re interspersed with vegetable chips, so you get sweet, salty, sweet, salty, etc… My food preferences are coming around, I think, though I’m still addicted to peanut butter toast, and think I always will be.

Everything went right this morning. I got up on time (though after two hours of sleep), got some breakfast, and headed over to Raleigh for my meeting. There was no traffic, I found a spot right in front of Kinko’s, and the meter was only 25 cents for a whole hour. They printed my portfolio up in about 45 minutes, and although the tint was a bit blue, I was pleased. I had an hour and a half to go before the meeting was scheduled, so I spent some time in the computer lab rearranging files and saying hello to people. The meeting went well. Thank you for your prayers; the criticism was constructive, and they both agreed that I had fulfilled what was expected of me. So I’m officially graduated now. Needless to say, it’s a huge load off my mind, and it will be nice to be able to fully focus my attention on the road ahead.

I miss Ducktales. The cartoon, you know. That was a quality show, far better than the tripe they call programming nowadays. An episode that’s always stuck with me is the one where Gyro invents a stopwatch to freeze time. The three nephews use it for fun and for usefulness, but of course it soon falls into the wrong hands. I always think about that episode when I think about how nice it would be to be able to freeze time of your own volition. But if you abused the ability, I suppose you’d end up looking much older than the rest of the world thought you were, since you’d spend so much time “frozen.” But it would be nice for special occasions (like all-nighters).

My last academic event ever (unless I go back to school) is tomorrow. Some knots were left untied at the end of last semester, and I’m meeting a professor tomorrow to take care of things. I’m confident things will go well, Lord willing. Then it’s off to Georgia (wedding) and then Florida (interview) and then maybe West Viginia (skiing) next Tuesday. Goodness. Would anyone out there like to be visited? Maybe I can squeeze you in :o)

I’d like to complain for a minute. I feel like my time is being wasted, honestly, with my contact in Florida for the job interview. He’d probably end up being my supervisor, too, if I got the job, which makes the situation all the more disconcerting. When I had an interview with Hunter back in December, they paid for everything, flew me down there, were punctual and unswervingly nice. My contact at Luhrs is short, not friendly, doesn’t email or call when he says he will, and doesn’t volunteer any information about anything. My theory is that I’m a designer, and he, being an engineer of some sort, doesn’t exactly know what to do with me and doesn’t think he needs me, but the higher-ups are pushing him to get a designer. That’s not a good situation for me to be in even if I did get hired. I’m calling people tomorrow to figure out the real deal and if it’s worth my time to see him on Monday. We’ll see.

Have I mentioned lately that Mr. T rules? I probably haven’t. He was on Conan earlier tonight making a guest appearance doing Conan’s “In the Year 2000” sketch. It was a riot, confirming again why that program is one of the very few programs I will actually watch on television.

To sleep, to dream, to hold a star within the boundaries of your arms. Such is my wish tonight, as always, perfectly contradictory things. The room is quiet, as it always is, punctuated by the crash of my thoughts upon the shore of silence. The light is low, a muted light that makes your complexion look better than it is (hence the reason they always put them in restaurants). I don’t know what’s going on with me tonight, or the past few nights, for that matter. There’s a conflict of some nature raging within me, the cause or even effect of which I can’t accurately pinpoint. It’s frustrating. Your prayers are more than appreciated.

I feel like I’m unfurling my sail after ages of resting in the drydock… It’s just beginning to catch the wind–perhaps it’s that initial jerk as the rigging goes taut? I don’t know. Some things I do know (to your great relief, I’m sure). I want to travel. I want to fly. I want to stargaze in the middle of the largest field you’ve ever seen on the crispest night the earth has even witnessed with the woman I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with. I’m a miser, though. I am. I’m hoarding the possibilities, refusing to spend them, relishing my vantage point at the summit, reluctant to descend. Why? The threat of the “what ifs.”

I need to be patient. My imagination reconnoiters the future constantly, though, engaging my heart prematurely. There is a season for everything, though. My time to run full speed along the path set before me will come soon enough.

*sigh*

I want to travel around Europe with me in a beat-up minivan with four loaves of bread and a Samuel Barber cd. I want to ride in an F-15 Eagle as it accelerates vertically at close to 600 mph. I want to bungee jump off Angel Falls in Venezuela. I want to read all three installments of The Lord of the Rings aloud with a group of people, each person taking a chapter or character until we’re done, sleep be darned. I want to see the sunset over Lago di Garda again in northern Italy. I want to play freeze tag in the warm summer rain. I want to compose an epic poem. I want to be appreciated and respected. I need to be patient.

I like these

River returning from Philly this spring.

More of the same.

I was listening to a cookie-cutter adult contempory station earlier tonight, moseying along at about 5 under the speed limit for once, when the dj proudly announced that the next song would be “a classic from 1989.” I heard myself say, off-the-cuff, “Hmm, I was ten years old then.” That got me. It was “Angel Eyes” by John Hiatt. Decent song, but my mind was somewhere else. Is this how it begins? I’m almost 23 and I can feel the invincibility already beginning to dim, thinking about the birthday parties I went to all those years ago, fifth grade with Miss Rogers (who I had a crush on, but wouldn’t admit it even to myself), model rockets and neighborhood soccer, tree forts and sugar-scoop headlights, watching the cartoon “Mask” in the den under an umbrella to keep the glare off the tv, turning the handle on the pasta maker that would ooze out fresh spaghetti after you fed it the right concoction of dough, train sets at Christmastime, and Legos, Legos, always Legos… I don’t want to forget these things. I think one of the major points of conflict between generations occurs not when children don’t submit to their parents’ authority (though that’s important), but when parents don’t take a moment, a long moment, to remember the emotions that accompanied ages within themselves at children. Every year was a different era; every birthday felt different. I resolve to be the one to bridge the gap with my future children, to remember how easily I came by joy and sadness at their age, when there were no layers to protect me against the world except my parents. My only new years’ resolution so far. Hmm.

Eck. I’m sick. I don’t think I’ve had a cold this bad that’s actually remained a cold. In the past it would usually blow right through this stage on the way to fever or whatever, but this time, it’s just a nasty, obstinate cold. Dang it. What does my nose think is going on, really? It’s reacting like there’s a full-scale invasion in progress. I really, really wish it would stop overreacting.

Ick.

Ugh.

It would seem I cannot wield the Wand of Power. I ascended the stairs with it yesterday at dusk so that the pipe demons might have been appeased, but instead of accepting my humble offering, they caused a libation to be poured in abundance from the Porcelain Orifice, an event I had to rapidly rectify using the Ceremonial Cloths. In retrospect, it seems that if I had not applied pressure to the Knob of Consequence while attempting to wield the Wand, the demons would have looked with favor upon my offering, and allowed the Unholy Water to pass.

Translation: I tried to unplug the loo last night, but it overflowed. I’m terrible. I’m on vacation. Leave me alone

:o)

On November 28th I was moping about not having any job possibilities and feeling generally overwhelmed. On December 6th (and before then, even), I was excited about a very likely job prospect. That’ll teach me to remain a bit more steadfast in the constancy of my emotions. I’m 22. I’m looking down at a lush valley of possibilities for the remainder of my life. I could be wisked away to Florida next week, or I could stay in North Carolina for five more years. One way or another, sacrifices are going to have to be made. If I accept a very rigid 9 to 5 job, exciting as it may be, with all its rewards, the likelihood that I would participate in a missions trip would decrease, something I most certainly plan to have as part of my life. Here’s the rub, though: We find possibilities in our circumstances. It’s just the way we’re put together as humans. Sometimes the options excite us, sometimes they intimidate us, sometimes they’re like a breath of cool wind blowing through our stale lives. Looking to the future towards a career, all I see now is the core activities of that career: the work I’d be doing, where I’d be living, etc, but there will be a ministry wherever I go, if I stay attentive to His voice. God’s given me one now, with Ed at work, and I wasn’t even looking for it. People have needs in whatever part of the world I travel to. I don’t see the possibilities inherent in one particular course of action until I take that course and am living it.

Well, the party’s at my house next time. We got a PS2 with GT3 A-Spec, and with my Beatles records, we have the makings of a happenin’ get-together, not to mention War and Achtung Baby, two albums by this little Irish band, and the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. I’ll be sonically entertained for a while. Now, if only I actually owned a cd player…

No car parts this year except for jumper cables, which don’t really count. Anyone care to second the opinion that my parents might not have the utmost confidence in my mechanical abilities? I also got a 13-cd set of a radio performance of The Lord of the Rings by the BBC. Once again, there’s that whole not-owning-a-cd-player issue. I’ll figure something out.

It’s been quiet. I’ve eaten far, far too many sweets. The roast we had for dinner was good. I had a spot of Grey Poupon on it, which was lovely (How d’you like that sentence? More tea and crumpets, love?) I had been missing mustard, no thanks to a certain female who’s been revamping my culinary repertoire :o)

Anyone want to go skiing on the 27th? I’m going up to Snowshoe in West Virginia for a day trip. Let me know, and I’ll hammer out some details for you.

Oh, by the way, for graduation a couple of family friends gave me original vinyl record albums of The Beatles’ White Album and Abbey Road. With additional photographs, too. That really made my evening :o)

*sigh*

I still have presents to wrap. Crap.

Everything is going fine. Why don’t I feel it? Come to think of it, why do feelings matter, anyway? What gives them so much clout where our lives and motivation are concerned? They’re like my imagination; sometimes I wish I didn’t have them. And that’s as deep as I’m going to get tonight.

Speaking of imagination, go see Lord of the Rings. Amazing flick, really. The world they create (courtesy of Tolkien, of course) is completely engrossing, and the characters are real heros. Real, honest to goodness heros that you observe on the screen and want to emulate. Not necessarily the orc-kicking martial acrobatics and bone-crunching melee moves they exhibit (though those would be nice to be able to pull off), but their self-sacrifice and unflinching resistance to evil are inspiring. The whole film (and series of books) can be viewed as a Christian metaphor, and in my mind, are the better for it.

Many thanks for the graduation well-wishes, especially from you, Elyse, and from Erin and her siblings, who endured the pomp and circumstance with me. The party that evening with all the family friends was wonderful. I can’t remember a time when I felt more corporately loved (even though I can’t for the life of me remember who gave me the little inspirational plaque. Oh well). My dad passed along the keys to the Datsun 240Z, so I’m a two car owner again. Just got a teensy weensy little rust problem to deal with; basically the entire passenger side floor panels are rusting through… *sigh*

I didn’t get the original job I interviewed for in Florida. They, however, were interviewing three candidates for two jobs, and based on the phone call I received it looks like I stand a very, very good chance of getting the second job, so I may be in Florida yet, St. Augustine this time.

Merry Christmas to all. I shall relay the traditional list of gifts received tomorrow to repel your extreme boredom and/or provide some distraction for those of you trapped in the “some assembly required” stage of things. Bridget, I’m glad to see you’re doing better, and happy (very) late birthday. I hope you had fun in spite of things.

“And now my life has changed in oh so many ways. A wop bop a loo bop. Bim bam boom.” — John Lennon

Why the heck do I get exam colds? You know what I’m talking about. When your nose behaves perfectly acceptably under normal circumstances, but when you begin taking an exam, it decides to run like all git out, meaning of course I have to either wipe it all on my sleeve (typed “sleeze” first) or snark it back, disrupting the lovely fits of concentration my classmates are having behind their furrowed brows.

It is an ugly nasty ugly day. Cold. Drizzly. Cold. And then some.

Well, back to bed for a little while.

I was driving back to the dorm, feeling pretty bummed that I had to leave friends behind and actually accomplish some studying. Puttering along the highway, radio tuned to the 80’s station, as usual, when suddenly–

Bam.

Rick Springfield, “Jessie’s Girl”

The evening is gonna be a-okay.

:o)

Wow. I might work here. Really. In January.

I called Terry, I brushed my teeth, I feel a little better. Who knew?

I feel terrible. I don’t know what it is. I don’t like to complain. Am I tired, wanting, nervous, on edge, worried? I can’t tell anymore. Your prayers would be appreciated.

I graduate in three weeks.

I don’t have anything lined up after graduation.

Great. Just great.

but for crying out loud
just give me a chance to hide away

Forgiveness is a precious thing. My parents extended it to me this evening after I had assaulted their generosity many times these past few days.

Solace, peace, rest. When we say the words “Peace on earth” in the coming weeks surrounding the holidays, let it not only mean peace as an opposite of war, but also peace from our daily routines, from the busyness that chokes our lives in its stranglehold, peace from our minds, constantly on from the moment we wake in the morning and often before, inundating us with a full flowing barrage of thoughts… The snares of our thoughts sometimes, like briars crushing our events everyday, I know. I want peace, and I try to place my thoughts in places where peace will come, where they will be refuged from memories, from guilt, from worry, anticipation, and more. There is no place but His hands for my thoughts, for my mind to escape, anything else will not satisfy, will not assuage my mind with rest for the simple reason that my mind was not designed to be fully satisfied, my being was not formed to derive peace and rest from any other source but Him. We’re either the greatest fools the world has ever seen, or the most awake, to stake our lives on a proposition of His majesty which sometimes seems to our senses to be the most far-fetched scrap of contrivance to grace the annals of history.

It’s amazing the lengths we go to sometimes to avoid admitting that we’re wrong. God brought a certain tendency to mind today during my time with Him, but I’m not yet sure how to qualify it. It’s a sense that I’ve gotten more than once, this past Sunday, and during a men’s meeting at our church a while back. The mood that constrains both of them is just one of enormous spiritual inadequecy and distance from God, but it goes deeper than that and loops back around to me, as these things invariably do. It’s the resentment I feel (just in general) when I compare myself to others in some area and find myself lacking. The element of it that causes me to pause for a second as I ruminate over it is the fact that more often than not I revel in this feeling, like I’m proud of it, or proud of my inadequecy. Instead of humbling myself and being malleable and teachable, I harden myself and declare defiantly that “I just can’t do it,” or “That doesn’t work for me.” It’s the whole sour grapes principle, really, pride, but it’s another area it had weaved into my life undetected, and it not only keeps me from receiving instruction and growing in the Lord, more often than not, it holds me back from trying new things; it makes me fearful and hesitant.

I remember one instance in particular more than a while back. I was homeschooled through all of middle school and high school, and one day in high school I was having some difficulty with my math lesson. I don’t remember the material other than it was algebra. Percentages, maybe, but in any case, my mom came over, and at great length and with great patience, explained it to me. I didn’t understand the math lesson for a while during her explanation, and I kept repeating to her, quite honestly, that I didn’t understand. Slowly, though, it came into focus, and I got my mind around the lesson. I didn’t immediately declare this to my mom, though, but kept insisting that I just didn’t understand. It sounds so ridiculous in retrospect, but I can still remember the mood and the mindset that produced that response, the almost-pride that I “just didn’t get it.” As I grow older I become more skilled at camouflaging things, as does everyone, but this flavor of pride is an old and bitter acquaintance.

Tacking away from that example, wonderful things happen when I renounce the hardening and maintain an open mind. I remember telling myself those words during a trip to the mountains when I was eight years old, “I’ll just keep an open mind about this,” and learning to ski, and ski well, was the result. To this day it and tennis are really the only two sports I can hold my own at, both sprung from a renunciation of the stubborn, ridiculous pride and an embracing of all there was to learn and experience.

I want to keep those eyes that first looked the white mountain up and down with a spirit of anticipation, so young, those eyes which are wide, to let in the light, and let it fill me, to express, to grow, to experience.

I just turned on my mp3 player, listened to “Tell Me Lies” by Fleetwood Mac, and promptly turned the player off again. I have no idea why.

It’s warming up again; the fleece is becoming superfluous.

I want a gazeebo like the one in The Sound of Music in my backyard when I grow up (thought there’s physically not much more “up” for me to grow).

I’m just going to photocopy the pages out of the book Ed and I are going to go through as I disciple him; neither Matt or me can find anyplace to buy the book outright.

The lyrics to “Drops of Jupiter” by Train are rather poetic, though, flipping through the lyrics of that song and others, I’d have to say they were unduly influenced by a certain song by Simon and Garfunkel called “April, Come She Will.” I’ve had at least one poem influenced by that song, however, so I can’t pass judgment.

And my monitor is acting up again. Dang it.