train ride: Part 2

I just got back from the bathroom-on-the-train and had the most wonderful experience. I went to wash my hands and the faucet was out of control. It attacked me with a deluge of water that pummeled the palms of my hands. I almost feel like I have bruises. plus, the water that bounced off my hands went all over my shirt. I love it when my shirt gets wet in the bathroom.

train ride home: Part 1

Today was my first day on the train. I was really excited. First of all, train stations are a mess and it was terribly difficult to figure out exactly what to do when I got there. I have never been on a train before, so I was like a lost puppy, except I was not cute or adorable. As I'm writing this, I can see that we are right beside to highway going at that slow kind of pace that airplanes go at when they are taxiing around the runway and you think they are about to take off, but they don't. It also feels like sort of a change of roles. I feel like I am always the one driving past the train and counting cars (not while I'm driving though). The things I am most excited about right now is that everyone has an outlet (Diablo 2 gorging!) and that dinner time is almost here (I brought a moose sausage sandwich, yum). There is also a train attendant speaking in some indecipherable dialect over the loudspeaker. I love it when they do that. This is what they did at the train station too. I was wondering where I was supposed to go and I was listening for my train or my destination to be announced. I was sitting a considerable distance from the gate. Then I hear a man yelling at everyone to board the train if they are going to nwordusld. Or at least that's what it sounded like. Funny how I couldn't understand the most important part. I feel like that should be part of the job training; speaking clearly.

Trying to decipher the gibberish coming from the train announcer.

Eating a fabulous cafeteria-style meal from the luxurious dining room in the train with my awesome friends.

Lots of leg room! (they moved me five minutes later)

I'm a hero

I saved the world today. I was on my way to work with I saw, on the corner of wall and greenwood, a group of people with signs. I looked and one said "honk to save the world." So naturally, and out of the goodness of my heart, I honked and I think I may have saved the world. I didn't notice any big differences right away, but maybe it's more of an unseen, underground kind of saving. I think it did a lot of good.

Escape the Nook

Family conversations can be extremely awkward, or extremely funny, depending on the family or your mood at the time. In my case as of late, they are usually the former, unfortunately. Tonight was one of those nights. It was in the middle of the meal and as I sat there stirring my soup with a slice of bread, I frantically tried to concoct a feasible plan of escape from the situation. Unfortunately, I found that many of those plans failed because I was despairingly corralled in by the table in front, a wall to the left, very close wall to the back and another person at my right. It was a very close breakfast nook-type area. To get out, I would have had to say "excuse me" thus interrupting the heated (and not very well communicated, I might say) conversation. I was not part of the family, so I did not feel like I had any say in the matter at hand, even though they kept trying to involve me perhaps in order to recruit me to their ranks. I basically kept brushing off their questions with a polite answer, nibbling at my food in the mean time. I am not a confrontational person, so I didn't end up pardoning myself from the table, but decided to ride out the awkwarness. Eating my delicious potato and cheese soup (at least there was good food involved), I patiently waited for an opening. Suddenly, I received a phone call from an unidentified number (I had been looking for a job at the time). Finally! Salvation! I was thus delivered from the table and to the solace of my room. Away from the cringing uncomfortableness and into a rather encouraging conversation with a representative of a church I applied at who thought my resume was "excellent." I thought so.

sweatpants

I own a pair of sweatpants, but never really wear them. My mom bought them for me when I broke my leg and I needed pants to wear that could fit over the big boot they made me wear. However, for some reason, I had an overwhelming desire today to wear them. Now I'm sitting here in my sweatpants and slippers typing on my computer. I find them quite comfortable. They're soft and have nothing in the pockets to cause unnecessary burden. It's an amazing concept that I have not come to discover until recently. Until now I have simply kept the clothes on that I was wearing all day. Maybe out of laziness or maybe out of...well, laziness. Come to think of it, laziness has restricted me in quite a few areas in my life. Not in any major areas like career or school, but in little things like not cooking or preparing anything when I'm hungry because there's nothing immediately available for eating, or showering regularly. I might get used to this sweatpants thing.

My parents' contribution to my birthday celebration

It was my birthday a week ago today and it was pretty fun. I got a free burger, a cheesecake, and a gift card to starbucks! Score! This is a very special day of the year and is made even more special by the antics of my loving parents. My dad never fails to sing the score to "happy birthday" to me, by himself, I might add, because my mom refuses to. And my mother has to tell the tale of how long she had to go into labor giving birth to me. This year I think she said 40 hours. The number seems to go up every year. haha, I love my parents.

deep thought about life and death.

I almost hit a deer today and almost swore. I think I was looking at my mp3 player or a tree or something and it just darted in front of my car. I can't imagine how I would feel if I hit an animal with my car, or killed one in any other sort of way. I love animals and don't like seeing them get hurt. I'd probably feel really bad cause they have families and everything who would be sad too. Actually one time I remember when I was thirteen, I accidentally ran some baby birds over with a lawn mower. When I realized it, I was stricken with grief and tore my garments. It was really messy too.

My victorious Black Friday experience

Today was my first time ever participating in an American ritual known to all as Black Friday. I capitalize it because I'm not sure if it's a holiday or not. People seem to talk about it like it is. Never-the-less, I was nervous and excited for what was about to take place. I even remember hearing old folk legends of people being trampled and shot on this very infamous day. I suppose all this hype makes it feel dangerous to go out there and shop for the best deals on flat screen TV's and laptop computers. Of course I came ready with a parka and my best right hook for whatever was about to happen. First objective: obtain awesome computer for Rick, my boss (he's in Barbados and can't be here to buy the computer for himself). My online search the for said computer led me to the front door of the local Radio Shack; great deal. Doors open at 5:30AM. On the very morning of the sale, I wake up at 4:30 and scurry down there. Adrenaline pumping. The excitement of the hunt overcomes all drowsiness. I arrive at the store and wait on the cold damp sidewalk in front of the dimly lit entrance (behind four individuals who were also desperate for the same computer I was). It feels colder and colder. The man who came shortly after me seemed to have a walkie talkie conversation going on with his wife. Apparently he had been unsuccessful at Wal-Mart and was looking to redeem himself at Radio Shack. It had been about half an hour and the manager timidly poked out the entrance. He regretfully explained that the store only had one laptop for sale that morning. One?! Are you kidding me?! (I actually said this out loud as he bore the bad news. Not like typing "lol" and not actually laughing; this is an accurate quote) Anyway, I shook the dust of Radio Shack off me feet and kept going. Confused on where to go really. I needed a laptop and all the other stores I knew of were sold out.

Down on my luck, I drove over to Fred Meyer's. They had a half off sock sale (it was their big selling point for Black Friday). I partook successfully and not without obtaining some complimentary donuts and apple juice they provided for the customers. Sort of minor excitement compared to what was really going on out there. The pushing and shoving; always looking over your shoulder suspecting everyone. I wanted to be part of it.

My last stop was Old Navy. On the way there, I passed by Office Max (or Office Depot or something like that). Lights were on acting as a beacon, drawing me in. People were waiting in the parking lot for something. Could this be the place? Curious, I check out the front door. Sure enough, they open at 7AM. One more chance, I thought to myself. It was 5:30 then, so taking a risk, I jogged over to the Old Navy about three parking lots down, got an awesome shirt (they only had one of my size left; score!), and headed as fast as I could back to Office place. To my luck, only one person had lined up before I got there. Coincidentally, he was one of the people who missed out on the Radio Shack sale. So, we shared in our sad story of loss, but rallied our hopes for the future of Office place as we shared in yesterday's paper, which happened to be available. Not too long after I had marked my territory in line, some other fellows joined us. It was a close race to the line; people kept coming. I guess I had luckily stumbled upon a great place in line for a great deal on a laptop. For a grueling hour, we huddled and shared stories of Thanksgiving feasts, sleeping, and failure at other stores. Minute after Minute passed. Each one of us getting colder, more desperate, and a little shrewd. Finally, just when we were about to lose our humanity, the doors sprung open. My legs failed me from the atrophy of standing in such a staggering line. I shook my head to wake myself up and made a B line for the laptop display. Like Charlie with the golden ticket, I was granted a gloriously red square of paper with a bar code on it. I was confused, but an employee told me that it represents the very item I had been striving for. As Hiro Yakamura would say, "Yata!" I finally came out on top. Hurrying over to the checkout, I bought the computer and left. By that time, the sun had well risen. It had dawned on a day that will see much loss and much rejoicing. Some of us will indeed act as people we would never think we would become; an uglier version of ourselves. Others will be there to see it all and to tell tales of waiting in line for hours and primitive brawls in toy stores. I am fortunate enough to live through it all and be able to tell the stories to my grandchildren. The tales of Black Friday.

Half off socks--what more joy could be had

Over joyed at the awesome deal I got on a shirt. I never thought I could ever be so happy.

Waiting amid other sly characters. I suspect every one of you.

Triumphant

First pear

Ok, for real. Who has eaten a pear before? If your response was no, then you would have answered in precisely the same way I would have three days ago. That's right. You figured it out. I have not eaten a pear in my entire life until exactly a few days ago. Sure I've had those pears in a can at the school cafeteria or in those take-along plastic cups for lunches, which are awesome btw. On a side note, lately I have heard many people around me say that cafeteria food is gross. Far be it for them to say such a thing. Sure they may be saying that now, but just wait until they get their hands on some quadrilateral pizza or a chicken patty sandy or maybe even a well rounded scoop of rice with a buttery tint of yellow. Now that's food. A meal that covers all the necessary food groups. I thrived on caf food (caf is short for cafeteria; I'm not talking about the tasty feline treat). At least a couple times a week, I would sit down with my best high school friends and partake in a meal that filled my soul with joy and applesauce. I even have been known to go back for seconds and thirds of things like applesauce and sliced peaches and pears (Pears: the thing we're really talking about here). But, these cafeteria pears could not prepare me for what I was about to experience in eating a real, off the tree, in a fruit basket in the kitchen, pear. I thought it was going to be like an apple, probably cause it looked like one or looked more like one than any other fruit, but it was not like an apple at all. It was firm, but soft to the touch . It had a weird skin and soft insides. It was very juicy; more than I was prepared for. Overall, I was very satisfied and people made fun of me for never eating a pear before then.

Memories from my bus trip

So, I was just reminiscing with myself about the inhumanly long bus trip that I took from Philadelphia to North Dakota after my beloved summer with Youthworks! Inc. Will I do it again? no, I will not work for youthworks again. Why you ask? Because I dubbed last summer as the final "fun summer job" summer. In fact, I made an oath with myself; the kind that cannot be broken. Anyway, here's a snippit from the lost pages of my bus journal that I thought were rather amusing:

Lisa McCarthy and I got to hang out in the Chicago bus station. Yay. What a pleasant surprize. The bus is shaking so bad it feels like its either going to make a loud bang noise and come to a complete halt or just fall apart entirely. There's a guy sitting to my right that keeps laughing for no reason and has been doing so for the last few hours. And apparently, I still cannot open a door after 24 years of solid experience. It's just a little embarrassing when you're standing in the middle of five or so passengers all staring at you as you're trying over and over again to pull the bathroom door open, when one of them says, "you have to push it." I haven't showered for a good three days and my hair looks like I don't know how to maintain proper higene. So, to avoid further embarrassment, my plan for the whole trip is to either be wearing my hat or hood at any given momet. So far it's been working; no one seems to have noticed my greasy hair.

I've been doing pretty good at running lately (and drinking water). I've progressed so far that I'm even biking for 10 minutes (or the equivalent of four songs on the gym's loudspeaker) after my 3-mile run. On a side-note, I've noticed over time that the gym plays their very own special selection of music which consists of gansta hip hop, techno remixes, and eiffel 65, so when I forget my mp3 player, or just decide not to bring it that day, I must endure through the their brilliantly motivational playlist. Anyway, I was running today, as I do on a normal Tuesday, and something funny happened to me that I just had to write about. I was just ridiculous and embarrassing to say the least. So there I was, trucking along on my perpetual rubber belt traveling beneath me. I was doing very well today. For some reason, most likely from watching a few great rounds of Family Fued, I felt like I had an unusual boost of energy that carried me through my whole run. I was feeling really great about myself. I wasn't even sweating that bad. Then it hit me--a force so hard that it almost knocked me off the treadmill's unforgiving tread. I thought I had gone to the bathroom earlier, but maybe it wasn't enough, because I had a gigantic fart waiting to do me in that very hour. My first plan for overcoming this building pressure was to just let it out, but something was hindering me; something fiendish. In other words, if I farted, something would've come out after it. I didn't want to stop my workout, so, for about one mile I did my best to hold it in, periodically changing my typical running form to a sort of my-butt-is-about-to-explode running style at 6.5 miles per hour. I went back and forth like this for the last 10 minutes of my run and eventually was dubbed the victor as I finished three miles. Then in a triumphant march/scurry of sorts, I made a B line for the bathroom and unleashed nature's fury. Nothing felt more satisfying that day until I ate the biggest, most massive, gooey sticky cinnamon roll I've had since my days at Taylor UC. A proper reward for conquering such a fowl beast who dared to interrupt my run.

a concert and the Christmas Spirit

I don't want to be perceived as old. I hate to admit it now, but I love to wear earplugs at concerts. I remember as a young juvinile thinking people who wore earplugs to concerts were absurd and old farts. Yet, I have found a distinct joy in doing just that. Whenever I go to a concert now, lo and behold, I am wearing earplugs. Is it just another part of growing old like sluggishness an male pattern baldness? I do not think so. I simply wear them out of a very well thought out choice that I made years ago. I was at a concert and for some reason, I was perturbed by the distortion and loudness that the band thought was so necessary, so I decided to just give in and put in a pair of earplugs. From that night, my night was changed. They help so much. It blocks out all the distortion very well and allows me to hear the music at a more comfortable volume. Amen.

So tonight, heading to a very similar head-banging, knuckle thrashing, mosh pitting noise fest, or concert (sorry that was mean, it was actually enjoyable and brought me back to my own thrashing days), me feeling were no different. My first goal of the night was to acquire said earplugs in whatever means possible. What better place to go then Fred Meyer's? I walk in at a brisk pace with my hands in my jacket pockets. I didn't say to anyone, after all, I was on a very important mission. I was having trouble, so asked an associate where they might be. Slightly puzzled, he said they'd be in the health and beauty section (I guess they were part of the beauty). I was almost to the very aisle where the little foam plugs would be and am stopped in my tracks, for a very colorful, brightly twinkly, Christmas display demanded my full attention. Normally, I would think to myself, "omg, this is way to early for Christmas," but something inside me could not help but be taken in by the beauty of it all. Last year, I decided in a very arrogant stance to resist all things Christmas until after Thanksgiving, when it ought to be advertised. That year, my Christmas did not feel as Christmassy. So this year, partially because Fred Meyers is forcing me to, I am cutting loose and not resisting any of the Christmas Spirit or joy into my heart. I entered into the bubble of joy the surrounded the five or so holiday aisles and was taken to a land of magic...for about five minutes, then I need to get those earplugs! It turned out they weren't in the beauty section (which did not surprise me). I eventually located them in the hardware department.

I got to the concert at a good time; the band I came to see was just starting. They did great and it was fun to watch it with some friends who were also there. Condemns were thrown into the audience and a fight broke out in the middle of their set. All in all, with earplugs equipped and filled with a little more Christmas joy, I had a great time. Let the music roar and the Christmas season commence!

Lonely Halloween

So this is just a little documentation of downtown Bend on a typical Halloween night at about 7:30 at night. I admit that's pretty early for trick or treating, or any adult Halloween shenanigans, but this is what I did.

lazy halloween

I never really have a good excuse to buy candy except for Halloween. Actually, I mean after Halloween. You know, when everything goes on sale and instead of accumulating candy going door to door, you can just buy the stuff you know you like. In that way, trick or treating is sort of a risk, but the pro (and this is a big pro) is that it's free, and this is the factor that convinces people. Except for a little unspoken rule about trick or treating is that "you can't trick or treat if you're too old." It's lame for me cause I'm in that "too old" category now and if I go trick or treating by myself or with a friend, it may be awkward and people might not even give me candy. Now, there is a loophole to this. It's acceptable to go trick or treating if you are bringing a kid with you, which I don't have. So for me, since I'm lazy and don't feel like begging for free candy, I'm going to do the next best thing--buy really cheap candy at the store. I feel weird for doing it. first, I would be buying like three bags of candy, not for sharing, but just for me. Like some sort of candy fiend. But if buying a buttload of candy after Halloween is wrong then I don't want to be right.

My ocean experience

After three long years, I finally received the privilege of revisiting the west coast of Oregon. The first time, of course being when I went with my loyal college comrades to beautiful Seaside. This year, it was with a group from church going to Yachats (pronounced YAH-HAUTS). Tonight, we decided after a thrilling game of hide and seek, that we were going to go down to the ocean and walk around in the water. Well, I may not be very familiar with waves, but I realized that they are very fast and wet. I found myself daringly walking on my very way toward China or maybe just Hawaii for this night. about five steps into the trecherous waters, I'm impaled with a demanding wave that wanted my very soul. It came upon me with such a thrash and with such watery splashiness, that I was wet almost up to my waist. I guess I just didn't really expect it, but just for an extra precaution, I rolled up my jacket up to my armpits (it was a decent jacket that I didn't want too wet, ok?). I was now prepared for a wave of any size to seize it's territory on my legs and maybe up to my waist or belly button, until one certain wave came. I called it the widow-maker. The hero of the wave society, if such a thing exists. Once I encountered it, I stumbled back a couple inches and became completely frozen from the waist down. And I mean COMPLETELY frozen from the WAIST down. ee gad! from that point, I considered myself defeated and retreated back to the ocean-side cabin walking like I'd crapped my pants. (I didn't)

Get ripped

I saw an ad on facebook the other day for getting ripped. I don't know who gets the money when I click on the ad, but I think they've finally broke through to me. I decided to click on it and it brought me to a person's blog who evidently tried the program and successfully chiseled himself. I checked out what the program required and I found a couple of iffy supplements and a crazy, but somewhat reasonable workout regime that advertised itself as the "300 workout." I remember when 300 came out and a lot of my male friends continually commented on how buff and ripped the Spartans were. I'll admit, they are definitely muscular. I've always wanted to be ripped. I think most guys wouldn't mind having fierce abs and rippling muscles with minimal body fat and We, as guys, feel as if girls will stare at us and drool over us if we have ripped muscles. I suppose it's fairly vane, but maybe it's true. Maybe girls are rather attracted to it. Or maybe when a girl is attracted to a guy, the guy figures its for his rugged good looks, but in reality, maybe it's because the girl respects him and feels like he cares about her as a person or makes her feel special. I'm not quite sure and do not feel like getting psychoanalytical about it right now. After all this thought, I still feel like I want to get ripped and look like one of those guys in the ad. Alas, I'm poor right now and can't afford whatever they are selling in order to accomplish the rippage.

smelly guy

I know what B.O. smells like and I know it when I smell it. In fact, I have years of experience with this sort of smell dating back to early childhood education when I sat by the smelly kid in class, all the way to college when I daringly took a whiff of a friend's aged sweaty hockey bag. From these experiences, I believe my nose is acutely sensitive to stank body odor and for some reason, I can usually tell who it's coming from. This time was no exeption. I walked out of the office to start heading home, keys in hand, when a gentleman on his bicycle was riding by and stopped at the house next door to see his friend, I presume. I remember I got halfway to my car and sensed the worst B.O. I have ever smelled. I was confused, uncomfortable, and not quite in the mood for any food anymore. "Where is this smell coming from?" I thought to myself with a sour look on my face, "and why does it smell so bad?" I wondered why it was so strong because I was outside on a cold afternoon and would normally assume that the atmosphere would just cause it to dissipate upward. I guess I was wrong because it still smelled and the guy was still talking to his friend. I will always think it strange why the man smelled so bad (he was about twenty feet away from me). It was like one of those stories that no one believes whenever you tell it, like if I saw bigfoot or a leprechaun. Maybe you won't believe me, but I'm a believer of the extremely smelly person.

An important bathroom philosophy

Have you ever been in one of those nice bathrooms? Like when you go into a fancy shmancy restaurant or an over the top club and the bathrooms are like wow! I saw one once with rocks in the sink! And another with cologne you can spray on yourself, just in case you forgot yours. Unfortunately, I have also been on the other side of the spectrum. The dirty side *shutters*. In fact, just the other day, I was pumping some iron, you know, the usual, and I had to pee, bad. Did you know that running is a natural laxative? So are pineapples. Anyway, I walk into this bathroom and lo and behold, as I'm standing at the urinal, I look down and discover a big yellow stain on the floor next to my foot. I was hoping it was a stain and not wet because I hate stepping in someone else's urine. Am I alone? So now I'm thinking, "ok, whose weird yellow stain is this and how did it get here?" It creeped my out and I left feeling dirty, even though I washed my hands.

Another time, I was actually in an airplane and was sitting on something that one can barely call a toilet. Well, it turned out that the entire floor was wet and my shorts were soaking it all up. Oops. I guess I'll just have to walk back to my seat with soaking wet shorts. I wonder what people will think. "wasn't that boy just in the bathroom?" "what did he do in there?" "why are his shorts all wet?"

Alas, even though there are things that can ruin my bathroom experience, there are always the times when some stranger can lift my spirits by casually ripping a gigantic, juicy fart. I'm 24 years old, but I can't help but laugh and forget about all my troubles. Thank you anonymous farting guy.

lamenting and rejoycing

Sometimes you just have to smash an old melon, as the saying goes. Today Kevin was cleaning out the fridge at our humble church office. I knew there was an old cantelope in there from who knows when. I didn't know whose it was so I didn't eat it. I was really sad to hear that it had gone rotten. Sigh, I perfectly good cantelope gone to waste. But not quite yet! There is one last thing this cantelope could do to fulfill it's destiny and bring honor to it's family. It was a thing that Kevin thought up and that I strongly agreed with (and that Christine strongly did not). Two against one in favor of hurling the sad old melon into the cold concrete. It was cold after all. It was the first day that Autumn decided to show it's true colors and bring our afternoon to a crisp cool climax. So I became Kevin's sidekick for a while and cheered him on while he destroyed the despecible sight. Now I hope it's in heaven enjoying all the "fruits" of it labor. har har.

I Heart Bend

So, on Saturday was the much anticipated "I Heart Bend." It was a wonderful and inspiring day of everyday people serving the city they love and the people who need it. I went with a group that did yard work for a much deserving family taking care of their elderly grandparents. It kind of felt like Extreme Home Makeover, except without Ty yell constantly and no Sears. However, Many other people did a lot of work for the city, including painting fire hydrants. One such negligent painter evidently spilled red paint all over our driveway. I wasn't too mad, being that it's not my house, I guess, but when Nancy, my house mom, came home, she decided to go out there right away and start cleaning it. I've never tried to clean paint off of concrete, but it looks really hard to do. After working for a while, she gave up, so now it just looks like a dark red smear. If you didn't know it was paint, you might think someone or something suffered a fatal injury or punched their last ticket, as they say.

Face masks

I've always thought that face masks were the weirdest things. You know, the ones people sometimes wear during the climax of an epidemic such as swine flu or that one in Asia. I guess they've become quite popular. I've even seen fashion face masks on TV with clever designs like a pig snout or a skull (so it looks like half of your face has been stripped of its flesh). The first time I remember seeing one is when I was in second grade. We always had an assistant teacher helping in the room so we could all have extra one on one attention during work time. One day we were in the computer lab (I think I was drawing a picture with a paint program) and the assistant teacher was wearing one of these absurd masks. I remember thinking that she looked ridiculous and wondering why someone would risk social exclusion just to be healthy. Since then, I've never wanted to wear a mask; they smell funny, and like I said before, look ridiculous. That is, until today. I finally understand why someone would wear a mask. No, I'm not contagious. I actually woke up today and discovered a sky completely blocked out by smoke. Holy cow. I've never seen so much smoke in my life. I heard it either came from Eugene or northern California. Wherever it came from, it stinks, and it actually makes my eyes hurt! Every time I breath it's like eating smoked pork (except without the pork, or course). Even when I'm inside, I feel like I just got back from a bonfire cause my clothes smell like smoke. I hope whatever is happening in Eugene or northern California ends soon. I know I shouldn't be complaining. They have it much worse than I do. What we take from this is a reminder of those who are suffering because of the fires. Keep praying for them.

Wesley's life-changing decision

Some people have told me that I have small ears. I don't know if that's true, I mean, I've never compared with anyone or measured them. But, maybe they're right, maybe I do have small ears. After all, I can only use a few types of ear buds; the rest fall out. So, I went to work out today, as I usually do. Actually, I don't normally run on the treadmill when it's so nice outside, but I need to fulfill my quota of gym visits so I can get some money from my insurance. cha-ching. Anyway, the issue with the earbuds came into play once more. I was in the locker room at the gym, just about ready to hit the 'mill, as I call it (but, I don't really call it that), when I realized that all I had in my gym bag was my ear buds. They stay in my ears fine, but when I start moving around, all hope is lost. I usually take my headphones when I run, but evidently, I didn't think that far ahead in my life. Anyway, halfway to the treadmill, I thought, why not try it one more time, after all, it works for those people over there. Plus, I'd get bored running for half an hour with nothing to listen to. So, I wore them and embarked on my run. Good thing I decided on the ear buds because there was some pretty awesome, life-changing, stuff on TV that day. First, I watched the tail end of "Family Feud," which in my opinion is always life-changing (except, I did horrible on fast money that day. I blame it on my blood flow). I only caught the tail end of Family Feud, but after that I watched a special episode of Oprah. Now you're thinking, "oh my gosh, I thought only middle-aged women watched Oprah." Not true, especially when there is a lady on the show who got her face shot off with a shotgun! And then got a face transplant surgery! Holy cow. Did anyone else see this? I guess there was a mermaid girl on the show too, but my time had reached it's limit and I slothed off of fitness machine to stretch; a new person, with a new hope in new possibilities of medical science. Who knows what could be next. Maybe I could get those cybernetic legs I've always wanted. I could be like Will Smith in "I Robot." If robots attacked, I could just kick them with my cybernetic legs right in their cold metal faces, if there was a face to speak of. Look out robots.

a moment's thought

Just a little bit ago, I came to one of those moments when everything around you--life, relationships, God, destiny--all come bundled up in one single thought in one single moment. The thought made me smile, not because of financial security or peace amongst my possessions, but because here, in this moment of life, of time, I know I am in the right place; I know I'm where God wants me to be. I feel as though I am a piece of a puzzle (it's a lame analogy, I know) that no longer fits in my space in North Dakota, my home. I may have fit there for a time, but as people change, I changed and, just as a puzzle piece would change, it would not still fit into the puzzle. I fit into a new puzzle now and have have been drawn to Bend, OR, to "fit" here for a time. Life comes one day at a time. I don't know where I'll fit next or where I'll go, but I am happy where I am now. I feel connected here. I don't have to wear my shoes and I have a special traffic lane made just for my bike. All I have to do is jog down the block from my house and soon I am thrilled by breathtaking views of Mt. Bachelor on the west and seemingly endless pines to the east. Overall, I really like it here and I've come to peace with where I am and who I am.

I used to think that the concept of driving on the right side of the road was a simple one; very easy to follow. I used to assume that everyone understood this and followed this, even on a bicycle. That is, until my life flashed before my eyes. I had never biked under Highway 97 on Franklin before. The highway isn't suspended above the ground like in big cities; it's right on the ground, but if you want to take the road underneath it, you must go slightly underground into one of those tunnels that a troll might live in. So as I was making my way down Franklin and under the highway as I came up to a separate tunnel made especially for bikes. I thought "yippy! a tunnel made just for me!" But little did I know that it was made just for me and an ignorant bicycler who just happened to be going through the tunnel at the same time. I was going one way and he the other, but this tunnel is not a very large (or well lit) one. When you go through the tunnel, it's a lot like those fully enclosed water slides. Just enough light to see where you're going (and just enough wall to silence your screams!). It's also just big enough for ONE bike. Therefore, I thought, well, it would be a good idea for me to go through this tunnel with the direction of the traffic. The idea was good, but it would've been better if I would have shared this with the crazy biker coming through the tunnel at precicelly the same time I was entering going the opposite way I was going! Holy crap, man. I could've suffered some serious injuries. I wasn't even wearing my helmet! Which, I guess, was my fault. Lesson learned: wear a helmet, because looking cool cannot protect me.

coming home from school kid

I am becoming more and more convinced that the citizens of Bend, OR are some of the most fit and in-shape people I've seen for a while. It's a very hilly town and everyone seems to bike despite the hills (I think the fact that people around here are very environmentally friendly plays as a motivational factor). One such determined individual I keep seeing biking up the "impossible hill" (I made that up myself after attempting to cycle it) comes at about 4 or 5 o' clock pedeling with all his might. I always want to honk for him, but I never know if he'll take it the wrong way or not. Personally, I would be encouraged and would be a little more energized for the next few feet, but you just never know. Maybe he would think that I was egging him on or harassing him in an I'm-in-a-car-and-you're-dumb-cause-you're-on-a-bike way. Maybe I'll muster up the courage to honk at "coming home from school kid." Maybe we'll end up becoming best friends and when people ask us how we met, we can say "I honked at him and the rest is history."

Speaking of fitness, I was working out today and, evidently, some older fellow with headphones decided to bless the entire gym with his singing. It wasn't bad or anything, but it wasn't good and it made working out weird. But, most of all he was breaking one of the most important unspoken rules of the gym: don't sing out loud (or punch the air an a dancing sort of way, which he was also doing). Call me conservative, but I disapproved.