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Fitful sleep last night. I must have woken up half a dozen times, turning, readjusting, skipping off the surface of sleep for a few minutes again. I dreamed as soon as I actually did fall asleep for the first time, and as I recall the dreams were so odd and complete that I was going to wake up for a minute and record them, but after rousing myself and shuffling around for a scrap of paper and a pencil, it seems all I was able to record before sleep overtook me again was “Zaban Wheebee.” That’s the only thing written on the piece of paper on my nightstand. Hmm.

I received an e-mail yesterday from the director of admissions at PBC, letting me know that they were still reviewing my application materials, and furthermore, that the whole admissions staff had been praying for me and my direction as soon as they got wind of my interest in applying there in August. That was amazingly encouraging to hear.

I think we’re going to get our tree tonight. Or tomorrow. This week sometime for sure.

How does a woman like Maureen Dowd get to be a featured op-ed columnist for the New York Times? Sheer notoriety and the ability to provoke a reaction? Her latest column is absolutely wretched. Even Rush mentioned it as I was listening on the way to and from lunch. I’m amazed that she’s given as much journalistic validation as she is.

I need to make a concerted effort to write a journal entry without ranting against something. I don’t want this to be a neverending string of tirades.

Finally finished the family Christmas card last night (I design it every year). It’s usually a pretty simple affair, and this year adhered to the formula for the most part: An abstract drawing/pattern on the front with a kind of blanket sentence on the inside expressing the family’s well-wishes. This year, though, I printed it on red cardstock, so instead of the two folds necessary to make a card from standard 8.5 x 11, I just printed the paper on both sides and ran the sheets through the slicer. Bingo–only one fold required, and we get two cards per sheet instead of just one as before. I was pleased with myself.

I find Zooey Deschanel very attractive. She has that intelligent spark that a handful of actresses do (most of whom I find equally attractive).

Well…

I did the deed.

I got a cell phone.

I feel like such a sellout (from the standpoint of my own flimsy “principles,” mind you)… But it reached the point where it was a needless inconvenience not to have one. I was just tired of always having to think about where to find a phone whenever I was lost, or needed to reschedule, or tons of other little day-to-day things.

I certainly don’t plan on being available all the time now. I got the most basic plan you could get, pretty much, so being available 24/7 really isn’t a feasable option anyway.

Let it be said: I am categorically not a phone person. I don’t have a preternatural fascination with electronic gadgets and gizmos. I hate having an extra thing to carry around and to keep up with–I was happy with just the wallet and keys. And my conversational skills, marginal enough as it is, just go completely down the toilet whenever I’m on the phone.

But it needed to be done. I guess we’ll see how this goes.

December. Time to dust off the record, methinks.

Yesterday was spicy food overload day. Had Thai for lunch (first time I’d had it–it was the welcome-Karen-to-the-office lunch) and barbeque for dinner, as it was Stephen’s 23rd and that was his choice of restaurant for the get-together. Fortunately, as I was telling Em last night, my stomach lining doesn’t seem the worse for wear.

Am I the only one who thinks the latest crop of Hardee’s commercials are borderline offensive and just really stupid? I’m as much a fan of political incorrectness as the next guy, but there’s a way to lampoon societal conventions in intelligent ways and then there’s just appealing to the lowest common denominator, and Hardee’s seems definitely to be indulging in the latter. I’m specifically referring to the ones showing how inept guys can be at fixing breakfast and the one with the model riding the mechanical bull, eating a burger. There are more, to be sure, but without fail they’re just…tasteless and really dumb. And they don’t make me want to eat there, which I guess is the kicker.

Not that a talking oven mitt is really any more intelligent. Contemplating Arby’s for lunch.

How long have you worked on cars? Not loved then, not driven them, but really worked on them? How has your approach to the hobby/obsession/all-consuming passion changed in that time?

I’ve been into vehicles and specifically cars for as long as I can remember (well before my age acquired a second digit, even), so in a sense I had always been accumulating knowledge about them before I really started getting grease under my fingernails. I didn’t really work on them, and even shied away from that pursuit to a degree until I bought two first-gen RX-7s (on a whim–is there any other way to buy a car?) as project cars about five years ago. After that, my experience and knowledge of cars ramped up exponentially as I’ve averaged about one engine swap a year since then, with varying degrees of success.

When I first started wrenching under the hood I didn’t have the touch with tools that I do now. A fastener that took me ten minutes to loosen then would take me a matter of seconds now, and on the other end I can sense when a bolt or screw is really tight enough. I don’t have to consciously think about which way to turn a nut to loosen it when reaching around the back side of a component to get to the fastener–my fingers just know which way to turn it. And I can visualize the engine and drivetrain as a system and in terms of their specific subsystems in a heartbeat after I pop the hood, or even just driving down the road thinking about the internal combustion that’s taking place on the other side of the firewall.

In spite of all this, I think my appetite for digging around under the hood has mellowed somewhat. Within the first couple of years I would work on the car at all hours of the night for hours at a time with no food, tools in disarray, multiple bandaids on each hand. More of my evenings and weekends were spent fixing this or tweaking that. Now, though… I think about my approach to working on my Audi, and it’s almost like I need to organize my garage, block off a whole Saturday, get the boombox, shop towels, etc, just to begin to undertake a repair or upgrade.

Maybe I’m just more realistic about the time it actually takes me to do what I used to think I could get done much more quickly. I certainly don’t leave as many “projects” half done and come back to them the next day or the next week. I’ll usually only start on something if I have all the necessary tools and parts–before it was almost like I needed to compulsively disassemble something otherwise I’d go nuts.

Maybe I’m just less enthusiastic about cars in general. I’ve certanly been more frugal in my spending lately, and for the first time in a while I don’t have a project car, at least not one in progress (the 240Z resto is still waiting for takeoff, as it were). Having a project tends to spur my interest and involvement in the hobby, I think.

I dunno. I could conjecture further about reasons why I feel like I’ve mellowed out but the attitude remains. And I think it’s a good thing. There’s more balance–I’m not as voracious about turning wrenches and it’s given place to other pursuits in my life. So in the end it’s not a negative thing, or really overwhelmingly positive, but more of an observation than anything else.

How has your own interest waxed and waned over the years? Where does it stand now?

Originally posted here.

Alrighty, here goes

This is hilarious. I’ve been saying this for years, and yet the current love affair with butt-rock still persists on mainstream rock radio… *sigh* Where would we be without college stations, I ask you?

p.s. — “Figured You Out” is the worst song. Ever. No qualifiers–just pure, unadulterated, offensive crap.

[/morning rant]

Okay, so I was under the mistaken impression that today was when the new album came out… but evidently it’s been available for more than a week, and for longer than that online. Hmm. Maybe I should check their website more frequently instead of just going by what I “remember?”

In any case, I got it. Came home, listened to it all the way through. Still processing it, although I will say that the beginning of “Love and Peace or Else” rocks. I think I need a subwoofer to properly experience it, however :) More to come.

U2 is one of the few bands that I will buy an album from without having listened to any of it first. I think that attitude with regards to a band or an artist comes close to being the definition of a “favorite.” The only other artists/bands I’d do that for I think would be BT, Jars of Clay, Hooverphonic, Over the Rhine, and George Winston. What artists/bands would you do that for?

Most people have some form of “comfort activity.” Some people will go do something athletic, others will indulge in the escapism of movies or music, and some people will just buy themselves a favorite dessert and chow down. While I can understand the level of reassurance inherent in these activities, and do participate in them to a certain degree as a means of restoring myself emotionally, I’ve discovered recently that when I’m as lonely and depressed as I can get (which is to say not much, but it does happen), I have to fight back the overwhelming urge to buy another car. Some people buy a pint of ice cream, others will rent a movie or go to a concert; I browse the online car classifieds and eBay Motors for prospective projects. And whenever I find a possible vehicle, I’ll immediately bookmark the page. It got to the point last week where I had to just put a stop to it all, go into my “favorites” folder, and clean out the half-dozen or so links, just getting rid of everything. I don’t know why that is. Maybe our ingrained desire for something “new” in our lives as a means of suppressing discontentedness manifests itself in me in automotive fashion. Maybe it’s something else. All I know is that when I get in a certain state of mind the desire overwhelms my rational sensibilities in a way few other things do. But at least I’m self-aware, right?

Paul and I went to see The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie yesterday afternoon. I think we were the only two in the theater in between the ages of 10 (kids) and ~35 (parents). We laughed our heads off, though; it was great. Very entertaining film. There’s this part where they visit The Goofy Goober (kind of an undersea Chuck-E-Cheese’s, except with ice cream instead of pizza and a giant dancing peanut for a mascot) that had us in stitches for the better part of a couple of minutes. Goodness, it was hysterical.

Read a halfway decent article about U2 in the latest issue of SPIN (Rebekah got Donald a subscription a while back). Doesn’t really crack the surface of the band and their motivations, except in a few isolated places, but I suppose it’s good enough for casual fans. Bono says this, but I have an overwhelming premonition that the new album is not going to adhere to this philosophy, much like the previous album:

“I write feelings, not thoughts. […] Feelings are much stronger than thoughts. We are all led by instinct, and our intellect catches up later. This album proves that point. I would have certainly preferred to take on the issues that I deal with politically, but what came out of me was the other things in my life I wasn’t tending to: My family, the hypocrisy of my own heart, and my father’s death. I mean, why am I not spending more time with my kids? Why am I trying to save other people’s kids instead? How can I sing about love when I’m never at home? There are a lot of things that need to be addressed in the world. But those other things just came pouring out of me.”

I dunno. I think I tend to view expressions of feelings in more abstract, poetic terms, like those employed on Achtung Baby or Zooropa. To me, abandoning concrete imagery and describing specific situations in bits and fragments of one’s train of thought or emotion just seems to be a much more effective conveyance of the impact of that situation, as opposed to the ponderously wordy approaches they’ve favored more recently. But I think Bono has a different approach in mind when he describes “writing feelings.” It’s just that when you build your songs around complete sentences and expressions and employ only the sparest minimum of irony or metaphor, like most of the songs on ATYCLB, it seems to an overwhelming degree like the songs hinge on thoughts rather than feelings. But I have a feeling I’m nitpicking. Will wait for a listen of the new album before making definite proclamations, but in the meantime this review articulates my premonitions perfectly.

I only watched about 15 minutes of football yesterday. Didn’t anticipate being put to work before Thanksgiving dinner yesterday, but that’s what happened, as Gran made us all (the boys) do yardwork. I was mentally prepared to help clean up after dinner, and I did, but yeah. Come to think of it, I don’t really miss the football. It’s just atypical is all.

Afterwards we went over to Paul’s apartment and watched Shaolin Soccer, which is a riot, if you’ve never seen it.

It’s cold out. Scarf + beanie (toboggan?) weather for sure.

And gas-powered leaf blowers should die a long, grisly (yet silent) death, especially when I’m trying to sleep in. I’ll take my fall foliage, thanks, even if it’s down on the ground. Gives us something fun to trudge through on long walks around the neighborhood and in the woods.

I try to acquire useful knowledge in just about any arena. If I think it’s practical and worthwhile to know, chances are I’ll try to at least learn about it, be it a pursuit, or an ideology, or a hobby, or an interest, or a skill. After a little initial coaching, I taught myself how to iron a shirt, grill out, dance reasonably well, or drive a stickshift, among many other things.

But during my evening jog last night an area I’ve neglected for a long time, unwittingly, came to mind: I don’t know anything about babies. Not a solitary lick. Pop the hood on your car and I can point out all the mechanical organs and their relationship to each other in five minutes or so; if you want a good-looking webpage or brochure or product designed I can put that together for you; I can lead a group in an arduous pursuit or hold my own in conversations about sports or music or politics or film or religion or art and architecture, but put a baby in front of me and I’m completely lost. I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head how to even hold one, let alone entertain them and take care of them (and all that entails).

It’s not that I’m averse to babies or repelled by them; not in the least. I’m just not and never have been drawn to them like others have. Call it an indifference, without the cold nature that word implies. Up until recently, and even to a large degree now, the whole concept of babies being “cute” eluded me–I couldn’t see anything cute about them at all. They were just babies, no more, no less, no attributes or adjectives tacked on. Kittens and puppies are cute, as are most varieties of animals in the first stages of their respective lives, but babies… I just didn’t see it, and I still don’t for the most part. And my youngest brother being just six years younger than me, the moving window of interpersonal experience within my immediate family never encompassed a baby when I would have been of the necessary maturity and frame of mind to tend to one.

But I need to learn at some point. It’s essential. And I have a feeling that I could do very well with just some sparse guidelines from someone who knows a lot about them. That’s the way it’s been for most every other pursuit I’ve undertaken–I’ll read a few pages of a manual or absorb some rudimentary instructions from an expert, and I figure the rest out on my own. And I know it’s not the same as other things–hobbies and interests and skills are impersonal abilities, and what I’m talking about undertaking involves personal interaction; it’s a different plane and the stakes are much higher, but… I learned how to act around middle and high schoolers much the same way as I’m outlining here, and I can hold my own in a crowd of elementary schoolers and corral them around pretty decently, I think. How hard can it be?

So we’ll see. My eyes are open for opportunities to seize; that much I know. I’m utterly inept, but I’m optimistic.

Favorite word of the moment: zeitgeist.

Band of the moment: Weekend Players. For those of you with mix cds pending, I will include some samples. It’s kind of an Annie Lennox/Portishead-lite meets early Massive Attack blend, but more ambient. Quite well done.

I’m eating a nice chicken ‘n’ rice mix with Creole seasoning. It’s steamy and good. I cut up some chicken beforehand and fried it in the pan with a dash of olive oil before I threw it and the rice together in a pot and cooked it all. I had the television on and it was showing the Simpsons episode where Lisa becomes a vegetarian. The contrast of my activities–slicing up the meat into little bite-size pieces with a certain amount of gusto, and my intermittent amusement with Lisa’s anti-meat antics–didn’t strike me until after the episode was finished and the meal was well on its way to being completed. Not that I would have stopped…but usually the irony would have slapped me in the face long before it did.

The song “Welcome to My Life” by Simple Plan makes me laugh aloud. It’s so vapid and gutless even for mainstream radio, but it’s more than that–the song sounds like it was written by a computer. But not even a human programming a computer–a computer by itself; no assistance or supervision. Not just the music, but the lyrics too–it’s like somebody typed “TEEN ANGST” into some soulless music-making mainframe, and that’s the song that it spit out. It has absolutely zero emotional depth or creativity. Give me anything by Soundgarden, Tool, STP–now that was real angst. That music had an authenticity to it that the insipid nonsense on the radio nowadays couldn’t even begin to think about approaching, not even by all the so-called “hardcore” bands out there like Linkin Park or Papa Roach. I’ll stick to my “oldies,” thankyouverymuch.

I think there’s something supernatural going on with the Holloways’ cars. Both times that I visited their house to fix things on the vehicles, first a headlight on their Mercedes that was definitely out and yesterday a transmission leak on their minivan–the problems had completely gone away. A few weeks ago I showed up, headlight in hand for the replacement job, and never got the chance, since the headlight worked faultlessly. And yesterday, after diagnosing a rather problematic transmission leak, the underside of the engine was bone dry when I shined the shoplight around last night. Took it for a test drive and it performed great, no missed shifts, no hesitation. I’m still going to take the car to my favorite little transmission shop tomorrow to have it scoped out by some pros, but in the meantime… Yeah. Amazing stuff.

What’s everybody doing for Thanksgiving? Our family is driving just down the road to my grandmother’s place in Raleigh, after she insisted on cooking this year, something that most are of the opinion is a very bad idea, but what Gran wants Gran gets, most of the time at least. It’ll be a relatively small shindig compared to most years when my parents’ house is packed out with friends and relatives. I think my mom is going to cook a good bit of the meal, and good thing too, since’s long since surpassed Gran’s cooking ability. Should be fun.

Phenomenal concert. I’m trying to decide whether it was better than the Dar Williams show at the Cradle last year… If it’s not, it’s pretty darn close.

I saw Vienna Teng and Marc Cohn in Carrboro earlier this evening. Great little venue with carpets on the walls to deaden the sound, no funky light show or stage antics, just a bunch of real musicians performing. It was cozy and great. Vienna Teng played “Gravity” first off… that being probably my favorite song of hers, I was on pins and needles the whole time, all the more since it was the first song and my system hadn’t become accustomed to the musical atmosphere yet (You know how after a few songs things settle down and you tend to notice more subtleties? That was the principle at work). She played a few songs from her first album like “Unwritten Letter #1” and “Lullabye” and a bunch of stuff from her second including “Mission Street” and a fantastic rendition of “Harbor,” on which she ended her set.

Both she and Marc Cohn had a great stage manner, good inter-song patter, and were uproariously funny in parts.

Marc Cohn was great too. He played “Walking in Memphis” of course, but with more nuance since it was live, and had the amazingly pitch-perfect audience sing the last verse. Yeah, we ruled. Off his first album, he played “Ghost Train,” “Perfect Love,” “Dig Down Deep,” “True Companion,” and “Silver Thunderbird” (I enjoyed this greatly). I only have his first album, so I can’t name any of the newer stuff he played, but it sounded fantastic. He got into a dialogue with a pair of kids who were sitting with their parents on the front row, and personalized some of the later songs in his set for them. I really appreciate musicians who do that. Class act all the way. Wow, what a great show.

Time for bed.

Kyle wants to set me up with Kathryn. It’s a nice gesture, and she’s really sweet, but… no.

I haven’t steadily dated anyone (to the point of having a “girlfriend”) since Erin and I broke up in September of 2002 after dating on-again off-again for about 2 years. I think this is the longest hiatus I’ve had since I started dating in the first place (Adria, summer 1996).

I don’t think I’ll ever date while I’m still around here, in this area. It almost feels like there are too many unconscious expectations placed on the concept. Of course they shouldn’t have too much of a bearing on the whole thing, and they don’t, but I’d be lying if I said they never crossed my mind. I do sometimes wonder what the church body, my family, my group of friends, etc, would think if I started dating so-and-so. Would she fit into my circle of friends (as much as I have one)? How would we complement each other vis-a-vis the church? What would people think? What if I wanted to date somebody who wasn’t from around here? A different denomination? A different mindset completely? How would a substantial age difference be viewed? And so on and so forth… These are some of the questions that run through my mind occasionally. They don’t matter in the long run, of course, but when one is completely unattached, one can’t help thinking about all the variables involved in a relationship, even the minor ones such as these, and how in an ideal scenario it would be better to avoid arousing the objections of others altogether, if possible. Some conflict is a healthy thing, of course, but these are the things that have more potential to turn into longstanding issues. But who knows.

I feel so stagnant here sometimes. My family is pretty well-established in the church and in the community at large (especially the homeschool community) and many times I’ve heard phrases like, “Oh, you’re one of the Suffern boys,” or “Your mom/dad is so great,” or “I know your brother! I did [X] with him recently,” and while I’m amazingly honored by such things, sometimes I want to be just me, unattached, a singular entity making my way in the world, making my own ties in the church and in the community. Sometimes I just want to be far away and call home and tell my parents I’ve met somebody and not have them privy to the whole process of establishing the relationship in the first place (which they inevitably are through any number of sources). I don’t know. Now that I write these things out it all seems so awfully trivial. I love my family, and when it comes down to it they’re really not overbearing at all. But it doesn’t lessen the desire to move away, to feel the thrill of “me vs. the world” in a broader sense, to have less of a circumstantial safety net, as it were. And I have a feeling all that will come to pass sooner rather than later.

This is nice.

(pun intended)

this is the story of how we begin to remember

Had lunch at the Skylight Exchange yesterday with a few coworkers and thumbed through the secondhand records for sale… I found a number of albums I would have gotten if I had let myself, but I settled on two, S&G’s Wednesday Morning, 3 a.m. and Simon’s Graceland. I think I have the latter on cd buried somewhere in the apartment, but it’s always different on vinyl, especially an album like that with its atmospheric, ethereal moments. I felt the same way listening to it last night as I did when I found The Joshua Tree all those years ago and put it on the turntable for the first time. Something about that analog arm touching the surface of the plastic disk and the fact that the music exists in terms of physical vibrations before it even begins to make its way to the speakers… it’s more real, more three-dimensional.

this is the powerful pulsing of love in the vein

The run went well. My goal was to beat 50 mins, and I did it in around 45. How’s that for knowing your own potential? To top it all off, I was picking up people pretty quickly in the last mile as well (didn’t hurt that a large section of it was downhill). Of course, I was so distracted with passing the folks around me who had been pacing me all race that I completely forgot to check the big clock over the finish line for my overall time. So I’ll have to wait until the final results are posted in the next day or so. I passed the 5-mile split in 37 minutes flat, though, so I’m pretty confident that I’m around 45 for the whole race. Aaron, of course, ran a blistering 36 (a time that disappointed him, no less), but he’s a triathlete and has the freakishly competitive athletic streak, so it’s understandable. It was interesting to see him in his element–with the race crowd (Edit 11/15: Results. Do a search for “709;” that was my number).

I drove around for a little while, washed the car, and watched a movie last night in an attempt to keep my mind off things. It worked somewhat; I’m doing fine, but I can’t dwell on it for too long.

I’ve decided that I want to marry a woman who notices small details of any sort as a means of experiencing life. After the run I walked over to one of the tents where there were boxes of food, grapes, bananas, bagels, and Nature’s Valley bars, among other things. Being something of a pre-packaged nutrition enthusiast and no stranger to Nature’s Valley bars, especially for breakfast, I grabbed a peanut butter one. But before I opened the wrapper, I took my fingers and moved the two bars inside the wrapper against one another to free them from each other. You see, the peanut butter coating on the top of the bottom bar invariably causes it to stick to the upper bar, and while it doesn’t really serve any useful purpose, moving them against one another is just something I always do. None of the other flavors do this–just peanut butter. It’s the only flavor that has the coating on top of the bar; the others are more or less homogenous. Maybe I’m too self-aware, self-conscious, whatever… But that little detail reinforced my already present desire for someone who notices little stuff like that.

So much for Sarah. After a slew of rejected invitations to various things, she finally turned me down one last time for doubles tennis and mentioned that she and a boy that she was dating when she lived in VA are dating again, so… I’m back to square one. Wonderful.

At least she came out and told me. Didn’t string me along. I guess I could have gotten the hint…but something in me compelled me to keep at it.

I won’t tart it up any. Feel like crap. I think I’m going to go bang around under the hood of the car or play tennis or something. I’m reining in the expletives, so I think I’ll just go before this goes downhill any further.

There’s a purpose here; I know, but in the meantime before the big epiphany…yeah. You know where I’m going with that.

I can’t do this. I CAN’T. Can’t can’t can’t can’t. I need some perspective in my life, and more specifically as far as my long-terms goals. I just have to come down, back away, pry the fingers of my emotions off the idea.

What am I talking about? A fledgling deal I had set up whereby a friend from another automotive community would trade his ’95 Escort wagon and this car for my Audi. Two for one, straight up, no cash involved. Of course, the Audi is running beautifully and both cars I would get from the trade have issues to varying degrees, so it’s not quite as good as it would initially sound. The Opel is mechanically perfect with 92K, but it would need some fairly major structural repair on account of a rusted out driver’s side floorpan, among a plethora of other little odds and ends. I just have the sense that it’s the sort of deal that I could sink several thousand dollars into before I realized what was happening. Of course I’d sell the Escort eventually to finance the restoration of the Opel, but I’d probably have to drive it in the meantime–really the last thing that I want to do.

It’s really rare that my desires should be so bisected in my mind. Every single rational thought I have compels me to turn away from the deal, and just about every emotional thread wants me to go through with it. My intentions don’t usually vote along such strict party lines. The rational reasons are obvious in terms of inconvenience, time, money, you name it… The Audi is more reliable, well on its way to being a 100% operational car, and is just less to worry about. Bodywork, especially of the nature that I would have to do in order to restore the Opel, is not something I’m well-versed in automotively. Any type of mechanical work is a breeze, but when it comes to sheetmetal I’m a relative newbie. And both cars are located in Michigan, just outside of Detroit, necessitating a weekend trip up there.

Then we have the emotional reasons. It’s another project. It’s something new and exciting to invest myself in, and represents the possibility of a whole new reserve of satisfaction over accomplishing something productive. Besides that, it just looks really, really cool, and I can see myself cruising around in such a car. Mechanically it’s dirt simple and reliable, so it would be easy to maintain. But it’s the coolness that really latches onto me and won’t let go. The Audi is cool to me because I appreciate all the design details and mechanical elements that are just done right on the car, but to most anybody else it just looks like another sedan. The Opel has visual character in spades, style, and to my eye a certain amount of class as well (though class is a more nebulous quality than the other two). It turns heads, it provokes comments. It’s classic, really, especially since people notice it and don’t really know what kind of car it is.

But every rational sensibility I have objects to this. I have to sacrifice this for the greater vision. I hate this, but mind over matter.

It’s been a lazy day here, not because I haven’t been on top of things, but just because there isn’t much to do and those things that do need doing aren’t pressing.

The second installment of the car class yesterday went really well. It was the hands-on day, so instead of boring dry-erase board academics the class and I actually worked on my car. I focused on two of the three fundamental exercises inherent in owning a car: Changing a tire and changing oil. The third, jumpering a car, requires another (sufficiently dead) vehicle, and one wasn’t readily available that I cared to make an example of. So we stuck to the basics. I had about 20 guys this time around, and one (brave) girl who didn’t say much. They were all in middle school to early high school, so it was interesting to watch the dynamic develop between the guys as we got into it. The middle schoolers, by and large, were invariably eager to help and learn; whenever I needed a volunteer one of them would step forward. I needed a lot of volunteers, too, as I made them do all the work. The high schoolers, for the most part, hung back and shot little oblique comments aimed at what they saw as the middle schoolers’ overeagerness. They were too cool to get their hands oily, as it were.

The only snag we hit was when the oil filter refused to unscrew by hand (I must have overtightened it last time). Like an idiot, I forgot to bring an oil filter wrench, so I ended up having to hammer a screwdriver through it for additional leverage, in the process making a huge mess by which the guys were alternately fascinated and repelled. Typical.

John showed up near the end of class with the truck and the disassembled engine in the bed. We pulled it off the truck, put it on the engine stand, and I flipped it over and pulled off the oil pan so they could all have a look at the crankshaft, oil pump, counterweights, oil pickup, etc… I think they got something out of it.

It was a lot of fun. I felt relieved when it was all over, sure, but that emotion was still tempered by a feeling of the “is it over already?” quality. I think it’s time for another Car Care Saturday at the church.

In slightly related news, I’m fighting the overwhelming impulse to trade the Audi for something else (there’s a deal being hashed out). I’m seriously not right in the head when it comes to these things. I’ll report further when I have something to report.

I feel awful. I’m pretty woozy and nauseated. For some weird reason I did all my billing at work earlier today with a sharpie, so the fumes from that got the whole situation started, and I just spent the last couple of hours in the garage pulling the cylinder head off one of the spare engines so I’d be able to show the auto fundamentals class tomorrow its inner workings. Thing was, the engine in question is basically trashed, meaning the no.2 piston ate itself alive at some point, leaving big piston chunks in the oil pan and somehow cross-contaminating the oil and coolant, creating one of the most noxious concoctions known to man, a sickly green-grey sludge that doesn’t clean up easily at all, gets everywhere, and smells horrid. So my exposure to that mess didn’t help matters either, and I think I’ve been a little malnourished today to boot.

I think I’m going to go to bed. Blankets…sheets…pillows…sleep.

Wow, that was great. That was exactly what I needed. An evening with friends watching a great movie. Amazing movie, really (I hesitate to use the word “incredible,” because, well, you know…). I can’t really find a weak point other than a plot structure that’s a little convoluted, but even that is excusable in the interests of differentiating the movie from the myriad of superhero pictures out there. Go see it. It’s clever; the humor is timed perfectly (the bit about the capes had me in stitches), and the–Just see it.

I got a little time beforehand to talk to Aaron at Inside Out (where he works), and it was great just to tell him about my week a little bit and unload some of what’s been going on. I didn’t even have to get into any exhaustive insights about the events that transpired–just recalling what happened was enough.

I feel a lot better. It’s going to be a great weekend.

1. The night sky was clear last night for once. The loss of cloud cover increased the rate of convectional cooling, so the air was brisk and dried the leaves out quickly, the ones blown down by the showers earlier in the day. I went for a good run last night and traced the constellations as I ran. Orion is up again, as are the Bull, the Twins, and the Big and Little Dogs. The light pollution was a bit too overbearing to get a clear view of the Pleiades, but I know where they belonged. It’s nice to have a clear sky again–it gives my solitary runs an almost social aspect to be able to look up and be met with a winking familiarity.

2. Last night I signed up for the Old Reliable 10K in Raleigh. It’s a week from Sunday. I think I should be ready by then, and in any case I get a t-shirt.

3. Going to see The Incredibles tonight. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it for a long time, and I’ll enjoy more than just the film–the down time will be pleasant too. It’s been a hard week.

4. John’s Camaro isn’t going to be ready in time for my second installment of the homeschooler car fundamentals class on Tuesday, in spite of the fact that we got the new engine in last Saturday. He needed a custom driveshaft and those take time to make. So I’m disappointed, but the upcoming class will be a more hands-on affair, so I’m not as concerned about holding their attention. It’ll be fun.

5. Walking out to my car today the wind gusted, and the newly dry leaves picked up and swirled around and around next to me. It really feels like fall with the chilly, dry air and the warm sun. I love it.

6. I’ve found the first item I want for Christmas. It’s this. My mom used to, and still has, an ancient Panasonic shortwave radio that she kept in the kitchen and listened to at all hours. I have strong memories of hearing the opening jingle to “All Things Considered” and smelling broccoli cooking on the stove in the evenings, back when my nose would barely reach the countertop. Ever since I’ve always needed music or commentary in the kitchen, especially when cooking or doing dishes–not overbearing, but just present. It just completes the experience for me, and is a big part of why I have an affinity for doing the dishes (the immensely satisfying, zen-like organizational quality of it plays a big part too). I think it’s the domestic side of me peeking through. It’s a small side, but a side nevertheless :)

I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I need a drink. Or a hug. Or a good run. Or maybe all three? But especially the hug; I honestly can’t remember the last time I received one from somebody who wasn’t, like, legally obligated to hug me back (i.e. parents)…

Of course, I never thought I’d hear myself say, watching Monday Night Football last week, that I missed baseball, the sport that used to bore me out of my mind. But things change. Not like I’m going to be wasting untold hours at the mercy of the television, but I do have a newfound appreciation for the subtleties of the game after last week. I will say that.

I’ve been wound up so tight the past few days… My head feels like it’s in a vise and I got really light-headed eating dinner with the theology group earlier this evening. I think it was something to do with the hummus + gyro I had for lunch.

Time to head home (yes, I’m still at work) and embark on that run. Yeah.

Stayed up til about 3 last night, flipping between the major networks. I’m dragging today, but at least I wasn’t up for no good reason (an all-to-common occurance). A few post-election day notes:

1. Exit polling is evidently totally useless. At 2 p.m. yesterday “everyone” was showing Kerry with huge 10+ percentage point leads, even in the reddest of red states. Heh. They probably asked the same people that flooded online polls after the debates declaring Kerry victorious by 75-25 margins.

2. Dan Rather really, really, REALLY needs to retire. It was entertaining to flip between the news channels and gauge the overall mood of the commentators… Compared to the rest of the stations, who maintained a fairly even keel, the CBS newsroom almost seemed in a state of panic/crisis. I think if Dan Rather were reporting the end of the world he would have used the same tone he did last night. That and his metaphors cracked me up. According to him, the race in Iowa was “hot enough to peel the paint off houses.” I’m not making that up.

3. If I hear the phrase “we live in a democracy” one more time… Folks, remembering our high school government classes, we live in a constitutional republic. Our voting for elected officials who represent segments of the population is a form of the democratic process, but a true democracy we are not. Most every nation that has a “democratic” form of government is for all intents and purposes a corrupt state of chaos.

4. Why can’t there be a consistent voting procedure throughout the country, or at least the state? Some counties have the touch screens, others have punch cards… I voted by completing arrows next to my candidates of choice (kind of SAT-ish). If standardized scholastic testing can occur seamlessly on a continuous basis, can’t we homogenize the voting procedure every four (or two) years?

Did my civic duty, got my little sticker. Tried to avoid the early morning and lunch rushes by going around 10:30, and it paid off–only an hour or so to wait.

Watched the Bush interview by O’Reilly last night. He seemed a lot more articulate and intelligent out of the context of a debate setting. Of course, having an interviewer who agrees with the majority of your positions helps. But still–good stuff.

thought-provoking blurb by John Piper

Sitting here at work for the past couple of hours. After payday yesterday I broke down and bought a couple of movies, Almost Famous and High Fidelity. Actually that was earlier this evening. Finished putting the engine (blown 383) into John’s Camaro this afternoon, and for some reason I was feeling particularly antisocial, so I ate a couple of reheated fajitas (made from scratch last night) and skipped out on Stephen’s Halloween costume get-together thing under the pretext of getting new batteries for the digital camera (something I did do, by the by), and bought the movies and came here to work, where I have a DVD player on the computer. Don’t have one of those at home, and I could camp out here for a little while. I’m greatly enjoying it, actually. Just a little bit of solitude works wonders.

Watched High Fidelity first. I feel such a commonality with Rob Gordon (John Cusack’s character) it’s uncanny. The singleminded geekiness about a particular pursuit that had dominated his life in the past but has since taken more of a soundtrack role, but that he still feels a certain elitism about and creates metaphors out of it to define situations… the attempts at self-discovery through the obsessive rethinking of past relationships… the struggle between maintaining the status quo and forging ahead, and the uncertainty about how to undertake that… and definitely the underlying aversion to commitment and having to deal with the unpredictability of gut-reactions to people and situations… even the conversation style, the mannerisms, the two-edged sword of self-awareness, the geeky earmuff headphones planted on his head half the film… It’s all there. It’s nice to see somebody on celluoid that I almost recognize, and who redeems himself to a degree in the span of a couple hours. Refreshing.

It’s getting warm in here. Cracked a window. Bugs chirping. Sitting in the office chair, shoes off, bare feet propped on the computer. Cars and night noises outside. It’s almost…European. But not quite. Not quite.

weekend

Earring’s been gone for a couple of days. I’m not missing it. I think I just decided that it wasn’t me. Always seemed just a mite pretentious. Didn’t last long, I know, but it was a worthy experiment.

The longest word you can type with just one hand is “stewardesses.”

Got the Audi’s windshield replaced yesterday here at work. They came out in their van and had the old, cracked one out and the new one in in about two hours. $328 all told, but it has a lifetime warranty against leaks, and they even vacuumed out the interior and wiped off the dash for me. Money well spent, I think. The only hiccup was that an interior trim piece wasn’t reattached correctly, but I fixed that myself in about 30 seconds.

I need to buy some new clothes. New shoes/boots/something. And a sport coat. I’m a little tired of dressing like a college kid and I think, within reason, it’s time for my wardrobe to grow up a little bit. Shopping tonight, schedule permitting.

I haven’t felt an inspiration to write much in here over the past week. It’s not that I haven’t been busy; I have, but… Activity and inspiration are two separate commodities.

what I wrote Susan this morning

1. The sun’s out again and I want a nap. I got ~7 hours last night, more than usual, but I could always use more.

2. When I arrived at the Holloway’s last night with a replacement headlight for their car, the existing item had already miraculously fixed itself. No joke. I didn’t do a thing, and neither did they, and it’s working now. Rather providential… Took a look at the intermittent window switches too, and after a few tests the problem seems to be with the motors rather than the switches. I had hoped the switches just needed some good cleaning, but that didn’t do it. Looks like I’ll be calling Mercedes boneyards.

3. Sarah wants to play tennis with Aaron and me, assuming I can track down another player for a doubles game. This is good.

4. This song is amazing (if you mind, Lindsey, I’ll take it down immediately).

5. I haven’t done much of the reading for theology group tonight. It shouldn’t be amazingly involved, though, since Kyle assured us we’d be done in time to watch the debate at 9.

6. I’m going to run this as a “tuneup” race before the half-marathon, something I’m still looking for… Should be fun. But whatever happens, race or no eventual race, the training schedule has really been a boon for my runs. Just the fact of having the day’s goal as far as distance written down helps motivation in a big way. It’s a pattern I intend to maintain.

I can’t quite imagine doing this several days in a row… But I’m almost done, and done with the hard part at that. I knew I just had to make it to tonight.

I taught a class of about 20-25 homeschoolers about car basics today. I love homeschool kids. They’re there to learn (for the most part) and they behave and listen, although if anything the comments tend to veer more towards the “I already know this and I’ll tell you what else I know too” end of the spectrum. But at least they’re engaging the material. I knew I was teaching 6-9 graders, but my heart sank when I saw just how many 6th graders there were, since I thought most of what I had to teach (automotive fundamentals) would go right over their heads. As it turned out they seemed to be the most attentive ones; how much they actually absorbed is another matter entirely, but I kind of skimmed the surface the whole time anyways. I was trying last night to think of some hook, something to give them a personal stake in the material, and I came up with the idea of printing out pictures of cool/innovative cars on cardstock and distributing them to the students, each one becoming “that student’s” car. As the lesson progressed I would refer to a particular car that a student had as representative of the subsystem I was teaching about… And it seemed to work really well, especially with the guys. At the five-minute intermission in the middle they all jockeyed and traded to have the cooler cars or the car they really wanted. And it gave them something to stare at the whole time if they got bored (other than my handout, at least). I also had some parts to pass around that they could hold and manipulate… So it went really well, I thought. I really hit my stride about halfway in when the analogies about car systems were coming to me left and right… Record turntable for the flywheel, waterbed for the car without shock absorbers, lightning bolt for the spark plug, etc etc. I’ll admit I was apprehensive, especially about having to talk for two hours solid, but it went really well.

And now for the Chancellor’s video site that Scott’s probably fuming about, going over to the Holloway’s to fix their headlight and window switches, and running my mid-week run. Long evening.

more rambling

Stellar weekend. Was going to play tennis with Aaron Friday evening, and he had even reserved a court at the Y over in Cary, and we actually did get to warm up a bit, but then I decided to over to the relay box for the lights and renew the timer by pressing the buttons on the side of said box… And I pressed the green button, and everything was fine, but then of course I had to push the white button too (which the little red cap had fallen off of) and the lights cut out. Fortunately nobody else was playing or I would’ve been mortified, but as it happened it was just kind of amusing… Rather than wait for them to cool down enough to come back on again, we just headed back to Chapel Hill and watched the debate on television.

Saturday’s goal was pulling the engine out of John’s ’69 Camaro. Not that anything was fundamentally wrong with the engine in the car, but he got a bigger, more powerful one, and in the rarified world of muscle car owners with money, bigger and more powerful is ALWAYS better. No exceptions.

We had the engine and the transmission dangling from the engine hoist in about four hours from the time we drove it into Joel’s garage. The experience highlighted a few differences between John’s, Joel’s, and my approaches to tinkering, but after all was said and done we cleaned up and had pizza. It was a good day. The real discovery of the day was that John’s old transmission had a twin-disc clutch. That was something.

Sunday I got to church late, but got there with enough time to hear and absorb most of the sermon, had lunch outside on the deck with the parents afterwards (David and Paul stayed in Raleigh over the weekend), then drove home and took a nap. Got up and ran five miles (Sunday is my long day as far as training for the half-marathon), then headed over to Ashraf’s for moral support as he debugged a problematic FD (car). Went to bed reasonably early and here I am.

I’ve finished my mini-wheats. More in a minute.

you’re worth the trouble it takes to pull you through

Work is dragging today, even if I have been productive… I think this week has finally seen me get a handle on every process in the office here–all the little things that I had put off doing, that would have made things easier but somehow I convinced myself I didn’t really have time to do… They’re all in place. I bought a daily planner and have used it quite a bit already. Things are becoming more streamlined…

Watched Dr. Strangelove for the first time last night. I haven’t seen the Pink Panther movies (well, one a long time ago), so this was my first real introduction to Peter Sellers. Amazingly funny man, especially as the titular character. I doubt anyone else could have succeeded in convincing that his arm had a mind of its own quite the way Sellers did–hilarious. A lot of the lines in the movie were eyebrow-raisingly relevant as far as the current political climate is concerned… International relations and perceptions of other cultures are just a couple of the subjects touched on. In any case, I enjoyed it very much.

I’m glad I was at the Gazette on Monday. Susan was there, and she became my confidant for the day as we both slogged through the 16-page issue. My mind was working overdrive already trying to arrange everything in the issue, so when downtime did come (we did have a few moments), my mind didn’t take the hint and step down the pace, but continued thinking about anything and everything. So it was good to have Susan there to be able to talk it out.

She actually became more than just a confidant, though–I told her what I knew about Sarah (the girl I had had an IM conversation with the day before), that she taught math and coached cross-country at a nearby high school, and as it turned out, Susan, who lives in the same town where the high school is located, is next door neighbor to a elementary school teacher who happens to be one of these people who just knows everyone in the county, to one degree or another. Susan said she would contact her friend, see if she knew Sarah, and have her discreetly inquire as to whether Sarah was dating anyone. I didn’t think Susan would actually do it, but I wasn’t about to complain if she did. Here’s a transcript of the email conversations that have ensued over the past few days:

(more…)

Hummus time… *doo da da doo, da doo da doo…*

Lunchtime at ol’ No.2 Bolin Heights. Lovely day, albeit a little chilly. Playing tennis with David (coworker, not brother) after work, then the theology discussion group at the Loop, then I might try to helicoil the exhaust manifold studs on the car’s engine. We’ll see how I feel. Must do laundry tonight, though…

I am in an exceedingly good mood. Have been ever since last night, for reasons that will be elaboratated on in a later, more private post. And this mood persists in spite of the massive amount of work I have to do. God is good, the sun is shining, my car’s running wonderfully, and I’m eating my favoritest food ever. These are the essentials on which I dwell.

Our office has become a repository for camp. Betty’s got a cheap plastic holy grail that plays sound clips from the movie if you press one of the jewels encrusted on the rim. Lauren has a multicolored neon last supper scene hanging on the wall in her office. David brought in a cd today with every single “Real Men of Genius” Bud Light radio ad on it. Oh, and Betty also has a plastic musical pirate ship sitting on her desk as well. Georgia and I are the only two holdouts… I should find something unbearably cheesy to bring in. Halloween should be interesting if the trend continues and everyone comes decked out like they did last year.

they’ve given up believing
they’ve turned aside our stories of the gentle fall

I sound so ridiculous. It hasn’t been that long since I was going on about the girl in my dream…but that’s the nature of my heart in times like these, times in the middle, times between the goodbyes and the meetings. Only my heart knows the shifting hierarchy of people and feelings and how they influence each other, and of course when I become involved with someone all thoughts turn towards them exclusively, but in the meantime… The quality of the emotion and its intensity is something I’m not even aware of much of the time, but this latest one goes back, far back; it has history, and that validates its strength somewhat.

I first met her early in the fall of that year. She started coming to our small group, hoping for some earnest discussion and interaction with other Christians in her new place of study. I don’t recall that she caught my eye upon her first arrival, but subsequently, after hearing her speak and being witness to the thoughtfulness of her observations and the motivation which compelled her to seek the knowledge of Him, I felt myself slipping away. She would entertain heated debates with a couple of the other members of the group and share stories of working with groups of youth, and the tenderness of her emotions peered through her matter-of-fact demeanor when talking about them… I would hold the occasional conversation, make a quip or two in relation to something she had said in the small group, but for the most part it didn’t progress any further than that. She inspired me, challenged me, and quite frankly intimidated me with her drive, her diligence, her intelligence, her ambitions, and… her beauty. She was average height, but that would be the only concession to normalcy among her features, as for the rest… The long dark blond hair, the light eyes, the perfect placement of each of her features–she certainly held the attention of all the boys in the room whenever she spoke, and not just because of what she said.

The height of my short, short season with her in my life came a little later on that fall. Just before Thanksgiving, the campus group with which we were both affiliated threw a semiformal, their first annual event. Everyone signed up, including her, although someone else had asked her to the dance–but there weren’t many people paired off at this point, so it didn’t really matter (at least as it turned out). I came alone, with a few other guys, and arrived quite early. A good while later, after the fanfare had started, she arrived, wearing a breathtaking white dress, date in tow. I danced quite a bit, had a lot of fun, talked with friends…but kept her in my peripheral vision most of the night. And towards the end, I finally got a dance with the lady in white. I made a complete ass of myself conversationally, but she smiled and responded in kind. And…it was over. Just a few short minutes would become the highlight of that night, and indeed of much more than that night. She disappeared the next semester, having become fully immersed in leading her group of high schoolers. I don’t think I even saw her after sophomore year.

And I IMed her on Sunday. After having the most cursory of friendships six years ago, and not having talked since then, I IM her out of the blue. I seriously doubt she remembered who I am, but…the deed is done. More on this later.

Can’t sleep… did something…rather impulsive (not bad). Don’t know…how it will turn out. Want to know. Too many thoughts. Ceiling fan…not kind. Must…turn off. Fan. Head. Consciousness.

Good debate. The whole apartment (and more) was watching it. I had a good 45-minute talk about politics with Gary at the Gazette to close out the day today, so my appetite was whetted for more political fanfare.

I thought Bush acquitted himself reasonably well. I’d obviously have to give the stylistic nod to Kerry, but the principles and core beliefs for which each man stand, in the end, operate independently of communication style. The problem with the nature of debates is that they’re necessarily a test of each man’s ability to communicate effectively what he stands for…and oftentimes in the popular mind that ability is placed higher than the issues themselves. I’ll never claim Bush to be a good communicator, and I’ll concede that I think that’s an important quality in a leader, most definitely the effective leader of the free world, but I think we have to be aware of the hierarchy in which we’re placing the criteria by which we evalute our leaders. We can’t afford to confuse awkwardness in expressing an understanding of the issues with a lack of understanding of the issues. I’ll wager many extremely competent engineers, for example, couldn’t communicate very effectively, even with the jargon removed, what it is they do–but that doesn’t negate their ability. Point being: Bush’s awkwardness on the stump shouldn’t be a deterrent to our decision on which way to vote.

Reading my journal from more than three years ago, there are some things I miss…

…but more things I’m glad to have behind me. I can read between the lines because I wrote them; the sentences are just a starting point into the memory of the worries, concerns, hopes, and feelings that swirled around me then.

I feel so old all of a sudden. Maybe I hold onto things for too long. Or maybe not long enough.

It’s drippy and drizzly just outside my window. I think I should close the blinds. I just sit here, slouching ever-so-slightly in the chair, and my eyes feel monumentally heavy. Argh. Gotta get over this–gotta work. Goodness knows I have enough to do. Maybe if stood outside in the rain a litle bit? Nah–that probably wouldn’t help either. It’s not the sufficient quantity or coldness of water similar enough to a slap in the face, so I doubt it would succeed in waking me up.

The most fun I ever had was at the end of spring semester, 1999, leading my Odyssey of the Mind team to World Finals in Knoxville, TN. I can say this without hesitation. There were five of us on the team, including myself, and we had impossibly good chemistry and temperaments that complemented each other perfectly. When you get kind of group dynamic and put those people through a challenging experience together, there’s nothing better. Add that to the fact that (by the grace of God) I had for all intents and purposes led the team to that point myself, making all the arrangements, filling out all the forms, jumping through all the hoops, coordinating people and resources to make it happen, and the fact that we placed third overall out of about 25 college teams (and got a trophy that to this day sits in the design library in Brooks hall)… Everything converged. I was very reluctant to part ways with everyone for the summer.