its a movement!!!

you know i swear i was born 40 years to late--i mean here i am sitting in an apt in new york listening to the allman brother, arlo guthrie, and bob dylan. did you know that this year is the 40 anniversary of the Alice's Restaurant massacre? it is....



you know i think, of all things i will miss when i move (yet again) is the thought of living in NY (and of course the pizza at 2am)....tonight i was talking to the guys in my "bible study" about what i am "supposed" to do..they suggested that maybe god is just calling me to go...like he did abraham....maybe this is it....b/c by going i am foregoing my plan of teaching....teaching has been the plan since 11th grade (thanks to dave glasgow)...all along i have known that i was called to ministry (note i do not say the ministry) but i always had this fallback job of teaching.....by leaving i am saying ok god i am going forth to do ministry....now what......of course there is the issue of going forth correctly---Ab was supposed to leave his fathers house...he did not and that caused a little tension later....i hope when i go out i do so correctly---

anyway....

I figured it out

Recently, I have noticed a nondescript, blue work van (you know, like a FedEx truck, but blue) parked outside of my apartment building. Here is what I think is going on. I think that NYU has built a large vault underneath WSV. In this vault, they keep the piles and piles of cash they take from us each year. I can just imagine John Sexton, the president, swimming through the money much like Scrooge McDuck does his gold. This vault has been a tightly kept secret among the elite at NYU since they purchase WSV some years ago. That is, until recently. I think that a Graduate assistant working in the presidents office discovered a secret communique about the vault, and is now working to get into it.

After finding out about the vault the GA brought together the best of the best graduate assistants, from all the different schools at NYU. Together they orchestrated the Graduate assistants strike as a diverse. You see, due to the many sleepless nights John Sexton does not have time to go for a swim in his piles of cash. During the strike they are secretly tunneling under W. 3rd st from Stern in the vault under my apartment. The blue work truck is their command and control center. From the truck they are doing all they can to keep the strike going until they have taken all the cash from the vault.

I knew there was more to this strike thing now I have figured it out....

Heb. 12:1-3

1Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

A nap

So yea....When I got home from work last night there was a drunk guy passed out in our hall. He was really asleep too. His phone kept ringing, but he never woke up. The story goes that he walked into Nate and David's room wanted to know why Nate was in his room. As it turns out he lives directly above them on the fifth floor.

I guess that is an honest mistake to make.

today--another day of me dreaming....

Today was good. Well, it was good for most of the day. This morning I went to church at the 411. We had what they call an experiential service. During the service we had different "stations." The theme was thanksgiving, so at every station we had a different way of giving thanks. At one station we "reflected." At one, we wrote thank you notes on peoples pictures. At one we wrote thank you notes to God. At one we took communion. At one we could do something artistic to represent our thankfulness. After we did this for about 45 minutes we sat in silence for a few minutes then worshipped in song for a while.

I find this very interesting. For some reason I spend most of my commute back to the Village thinking about how to implement this in a larger setting like at Emmanuel. I thought about doing it for Christmas morning. You could take out two sections of chairs. The theme could be "God with us" at one station you could have someone quietly playing hymns (and I mean old school hymns). At this station people could gather around and worship in song. At another station you could have a place for people to take communion. At another you could do the artistic representation. You could lay out several large pieces of Butcher paper and have people respond to a verse chosen for the station. At another station you could have some one simply reading over and over the Christmas story (they could even do this in a dramatic way). At another station you could have people respond to the question, "where would you be if God was not with you?" They would do so on a piece of large butcher paper. There are several other things you could do. The room would be lit in a very low light, with candles everywhere.

But that is just me dreaming--

Its late

Plans of the week.
Plans of the day.
Plans of the hour.
Plans of the minute.

I mean seriously, I have no clue what to do. I am sure the 1.5 people who read this get tired of me complaining, but honestly this is my only outlet for the angst I am feeling.

My callie-diagnosed-bipolar illness if very obvious these days. I am up and down then back up. I get almost manic-ly happy then super depressed to the point that all I do is what have to do (school work and barnes & noble work). One minute I have the perfect plan and the next I have no clue what I am going to do.

I mean yesterday I had it all figured out. I was going to quit school, volunteer at the 411 next semester while getting a job to pay my bills. However, that fell through today. I mean the church will probably allow me to volunteer, but they implied that they would not have a ton of work for me to do. I really could not justify following this plan if they can't guarantee me a lot of work.

I would kill to work in a church (ha)--I don't have to be on staff. I would love to volunteer somewhere and get a regular job to pay my bills (aka this sinfully high student loan). I don't even have to have a traditional role. I would love to be an assistant. I love making booklets and designing brochures. One of the coolest things I ever did was the Experience God packets that I made--btw Life Way should make those available for purchase with the books--it makes things so much easier (but maybe that is me tooting my own horn-ha).

I don't know--tonight I was talking to my prof after class (yea my hot 29 yr old single prof.) and she understands why I want to quit and said that she would not try and convince me to stay--but at the same time while talking with her I realized how much fun it would be to student teach with her next semester--and she agreed

I don't know--I am just so so so tired of "doing what's next." that is all I have ever done. high school, college at delta state (with a short break in Charlotte--if I could remember back I would bet that my mind frame was the same then as it is now), grad school at wheaton, teaching at GCS (the first in a line of mistakes), now NYU---I think the reason I came back to school is b/c that is the one thing I know I can do well. However, I have decided that either I am too old/jaded for school or I simply am not interested.

I know I want to spend my life "talking about jesus" but I just don't know how to go about do this----

i would love to write my krispy kreme book on the systematic theology (see the HOT NOW post in aug i think)

anyway--it is 2am and I have to get up at 7am

native americans

So yea, my nephew Bailey has to dress like a "native American" for school (he is in K-5). I think my sister should dress him as a "native American" with small pox or she should have him wear ragged clothes and no shoes and make him pretend to be hungry and sick all day as if he were marching on the trail of tears. Or better yet she could dress his lower body as big piece of wood and this torso could be made to look like a screw--and he could have sign that says, "I got screwed by the US government!"

UAW

so yea, i have decided that Graduate Assisstants are pretty talented people. If they can beat their drum, walk in tiny circles, and shout inane phrases without stepping on each others heels, i think they deserve their contracts!

click UAW above to know what is happening

lots of new post--scroll down and comment

Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You’ve seen it all, you’ve seen it all

Watched the men who rode you switch from sails to steam
And in your belly you hold the treasures few have ever seen
Most of ’em dream, most of ’em dream

Yes I am a pirate, two hundred years too late
The cannons don’t thunder, there’s nothin’ to plunder
I’m an over-forty victim of fate
Arriving too late, arriving too late

I’ve done a bit of smugglin’, I’ve run my share of grass
I made enough money to buy miami, but I pissed it away so fast
Never meant to last, never meant to last

And I have been drunk now for over two weeks
I passed out and I rallied and I sprung a few leaks
But I got stop wishin’, got to go fishin’
Down to rock bottom again
Just a few friends, just a few friends

I go for younger women, lived with several awhile
Though I ran ’em away, they’d come back one day
Still could manage to smile
Just takes a while, just takes a while

Mother, mother ocean, after all the years I’ve found
My occupational hazard being my occupation’s just not around
I feel like I’ve drowned, gonna head uptown

I feel like I’ve drowned, gonna head uptown

a year later....

do u know where you were a year ago right now?

it is 2:15 am on november 13, 2005.....

Lethargy

Blah blah blah......I am so not in the mood to do my work. I have so much that I am supposed to be reading and so many projects that I could be working on. Instead I am randomly searching the internet for random stuff. I could go out and do something but I don't feel like it today--I am so lethargic. I have done nothing today--I got up at noon and took a shower then read and slept all afternoon (more sleeping than reading). I did eat something, so that is an accomplishment I guess.

I don't know I guess my lack of life long purpose is tied up in my lack of daily ambition....

a couple quotes

"Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme"
*"Collide" Howie Day

"And that's why birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love"
*"Let's Do It" Cole Porter

As i eat my Raman noodles i ask

Can someone, i mean anyone, anybody, i don't care, just someone....Please tell me how it is that a 25 (almost 26) year old guy who is semi intelligent and halfway normal can have no, i mean NO, idea what to do with his life.

another way of putting it---why is the grass always greener......

i mean yea i could quit school but what i am supposed to do??

oh well---

whatever

i am having rice for super

Ok so you know how in some movies something crazy will happen, but then you realize it was just in the actor's head? For example, this girl is mad at someone and she kills him but then in reality she just smiles at him. Well that happened to me today. I imagine it was do to the lack of sleep last night and a long hard day at the factory, oops I mean bookstore.

Well I am walking down the street today and I see this old man with a cane. He is walking up to another old man with a cane. Imagine two cowboys in the street in front of the OK corral and you will understand how it looked. Well when they finally reach each other; I mean they are old men with canes so it takes a while, when the get face to face one says something confrontational to the other. And then hits him on the arm with his cane. They then proceed to duel it out right there on the sidewalk. In this case you should imagine two guys with swords (but old and not very agile). A crowd began to form and the short Hispanic man in a tuxedo begins to take bets. I place five dollars on the guy in the blue suit. I chose him because he had cool cane. After a few minutes of fighting, the old gentleman in grey falls over and begin to gasp for breath. My fighter in blue looks up at the now hushed crowd. We are waiting for the final blow. He makes eye contact with me and looks down at the gasping man, and simply turns and walks away.

well since it was obvious he won, I collected my money and am about to go eat Italian food.

HA!

well needless to say I had a few blocks to make up the story of the two old men walking toward each other.

out of the blue--into the dark

Sometimes it hits you--hits you out of no where. You have no clue why it is there. "Where did this come from," you ask. Callie wrote me once when I asked her about this. "We get used to only having so much time of happiness before unhappiness comes in, so that when we are happy and going along fine we remember that it is about time to become unhappy. So even if there is nothing in the world at that time to make us unhappy- we realize that the time is coming soon and we get unhappy about that."

That may be the answer for me some of the time, but tonight I know why the "unhappiness" has hit me. It is funny because most of the time I would call this "melancholy," but what I am feeling tonight is so much worse than that.

Thankfully, I have a project due tomorrow so am not laying in bed thinking, but it sucks because I can't stay focused. (this blog being proof).

Oh well--the sun will be up in the morning...I hope it helps.

see my mother is gonna worry--but she shouldn't....

fitting for tonight

"Someday" by Nickelback

How the hell did we wind up like this
Why weren't we able
To see the signs that we missed
And try to turn the tables

I wish you'd unclench your fists
And unpack your suitcase
Lately there's been too much of this
Dont think its too late

Nothin's wrong
just as long as
you know that someday I will

Someday, somehow
gonna make it allright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)
Someday, somehow
gonna make it allright but not right now
I know you're wondering when

Well i hoped that since we're here anyway
We could end up saying
Things we've always needed to say
So we could end up stringing
Now the story's played out like this
Just like a paperback novel
Lets rewrite an ending that fits
Instead of a hollywood horror

Nothin's wrong
just as long as
you know that someday I will

Someday, somehow
gonna make it allright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)
Someday, somehow
gonna make it allright but not right now
I know you're wondering when
(You're the only one who knows that)

a poem

"The Lanyard" by Billy Collins

The other day as I was ricocheting slowly
off the pale blue walls of this room,
bouncing from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one more suddenly into the past --
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sickroom,
lifted teaspoons of medicine to my lips,
set cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift--not the archaic truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hands,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

more first

so yea, last night was a night of first:

i went under the east river

i went to brooklyn (williamsburg to be exact)

i ate thai food--omg, that is the most amazing stuff i have ever had!!!

i sat on the roof of an apt

i saw the nyc sky line from across the river


great stuff!

weirdo

so yea....I had a panic attack last night.

No it wasn't when I realized that I had to go to Brooklyn with Maggie :)

No it wasn't when I saw this view from the roof of David's apt in Williamsburg.

No it wasn't when I realized that it was 4am and I was looking at friends on facebook.

No, I had the panic attack in my sleep. In this dream, which took place at both the Vatican and my grandmothers livingroom, I was attending class. (I guess that is not too far off since because of the strike I will be having class anywhere but a classroom). Anyway, in the middle of class I "realized" that I had been skipping another class for like 3 or 4 weeks I had forgotten that I was even registered for the class. I really began to freak out when I realized this. Then I began to think well I guess I should start going back, but. . .

Well thank goodness I woke up before having a heartattack in my sleep.

Oh and btw the weird part is not that I had this dream, but that I had a similar dream a few months ago...