Fashion...

i've never concidered myself particularly style-conscious. in fact, the only vogue part of my closet is a pair of slacks my friend k.c. bought for me for my birthday... and i don't really get much of chance to wear them anyway 'cuz they're too nice and all i would do is get dirt or motor oil on 'em anyway...

usually i stick to a t-shirt (i own 4 white and 4 blue pairs) and jeans (i own one pair) and my previously blogged about five dollar thrift-store shoes i found at good will... unfortunately what see as simplicity, others see as passé and antiquated, and for that i am chastized.

yes! i wear white socks with my leather dress shoes. yes! i wear my shirts until they are shredded, yes! i wear the same jeans everyday. yes! collared shirts make me feel like the life is being choked out of me... SORRY! i can, on the other hand, fit all of my clothing into one large tupperware container and pack the back of my suburu wagon with everything i own, even my bed, all with room to spare... and i know plenty of girls that find that to be very attractive... at least, that's what i tell myself.

anyway, i digress. the point of all this raving was to let those who have been and still are concerned with my chic-ness know that you can finally stop worrying... i found out this morning that i am, in fact, very style-minded and dapper.

...



my shirt, and socks, AND boxer-briefs all were color-matched today...



...



jev 1 - calvin klein 0

Yeah!

i did two things today that i have never done before! first, i made a turkey sandwich that was bread deficient... needless to say, i almost lost a pinky due to my over-zealous appitite and i would not recommend trying it yourself... it's messy, barbaric, and uncouth... plus, biting into a fingernail hurts like no tomorrow...

and second, i sold my first print!!! well, i guess i technically didn't sell it per se... but the guy i gave it to said he would have paid for it if i hadn't given it to him first...


so it's almost like a sold it...


BUT! he said that he wanted a couple more, and he would pay for those! so that's just as good!


does this mean i'm a real artist now? i mean, i guess... right? technically i do (will) sell my photos, so, i guess hypothetically i could be deemed a 'professional...' right?

this is like the time i checked out at the elite 'professional' check-out line at home depot 'cuz i was with my buddy matt, who IS a professional... you know what check-out i'm talkin' about, the one that just sits at the far end of the store, mocking me, taunting and teasing me with it's promise of a short line and no old people buying dozens of rolls of masking tape for who knows what and fumbling with thier check book for what seems to be hours trying to figure out what the date is, and what the amount is, and what time it is, even though that particular piece of information was completely extraneous and irrelevent... ALL I WANTED WAS A SIMPLE HOUSE PLANT!!! GEEZ!

...

*ahem*




yes... yes... i have finally arrived... jee-ackpot.

Opportunities...

i had the opportunity to do something today that i haven't done in a while... i watched the sun set. only, i didn't simply watch the sun set...


it was if i underwent the sun setting.


i didn't just look at the sun drop below the mountains... it was more than that. i was present in the sunset in a way i don't know if i can describe. i was present the way a mother is, just after the birth of her child and she finally sees thier tiny, pink face for the first time. i was present in the way a certain piece of music runs chills down your back, for who knows why?


i was present in today's sunset as if i were today's sunset...


i feel like this makes no sense... but... i guess that's part of the frustrating charm of being human.

Question...

is anybody else sick of 'that guy?' i swear, no matter where i go, or where i move, or whom i am with, he always manages to show up. i don't understand. how does he know where i am ALL of the time? doesn't he have a job? is someone paying him to piss me off? the worst part is that you always know he's gonna show up, you just don't know when...

one day he decides it would be prudent to pull out in front of you, nearly causing you to careen into the ditch on the side of the road effectively ending the life which he obviously deemed unworthy of existence. another day he thinks it would be wise to sit through two cycles of green arrows because he is too busy searching the passenger side floor for the new 'oprah book of the month club' novel he picked up from borders.

i should give him some credit though... not only can he stymie me in his car (which tends to be a decrepit, ratty camero), but he manages to do it in myriads of public places as well. he's right there behind me at whole foods with his girlfriend (who, by-the-way, is much too pretty and intellegent to be with him) just waiting and yearning to use the word 'guesstimate,' while trying to figure out how many seedless grapes he is anticipating to purchase. wait! now he is in line in front of me at chipotle, he wants to order a chicken burrito... with half pinto and half black beans... and double chicken... wait! no, sorry, how much is double chicken? wow... uh, yeah how about just the regular amount of chicken then... oh, you put it on already? well, can you just make me a new one then? so yeah, regular chicken, but i still want half and half beans... SHUT THE HELL UP!

why would someone do this to me? i, i don't think i have any enemies... i mean, there was doctor francis wellington, my arch-nemesis... but i defeated him years ago... our flagrant hostilities came to head 4 years ago at the edge of mokpo peer on the southern tip of south korea (that, of course, is another story in and of itself.)

reguardless, whoever 'that guy' is, whether friend or foe, he obviously has it in for me...


so a caveat to the rest of you... keep your eyes open and watch your back... 'that guy' is always looking for new catch in new waters... in fact, i wouldn't be suprised of he already has sighted in on some of you...

i just want him to leave me alone...



'cuz i'm either gonna end up dead, or with a severe ulcer...

Hmph...

so i checked under the fake tree this morning to see if santa got my letter and came through for me in the clutch... needless to say, i found no gold bouillon... hmmm.




there was, albeit, 20 packages of maruchan ramen... sans the crisp noodles...

and bright color-coded wrappers...




i'm gonna fire that stenographer.

First Christmas...

i just experienced my first christmas away from 'home.' even during college i would make the inevitably grueling trip back to minnesota every christmas-time via kia... or friend's company car... ya know, whatever we could find.

i spent it two ways: cooking soup and cleaning dishes at the shelter where i work, and reading c.s. lewis...





it was everything i thought it could be and more.

Joe Christmas meets Jack Squat...

i worked on my novel today. it's the piece of writing i ironically refer to as 'the next great american novel.' of course, as i just alluded to, the title is rather misleading considering it is neither 'great' nor a 'novel'...

it is, on the other hand, appropriately designated in some ways... it is, i suppose, 'the next,' and technically it is 'american,' as well, so it's not a complete misnomer, but the other stuff... yeah, not so much.

it's pretty purgatorial in it's paltry mediocrity, so 'great' obviously must be stricken from the record, and it's only about a half-a-page long as is... and i don't think that constitutes the page-mass a novel deserves... so really, it's 'the next mediocre american novella/short story.' plus, the only thing in it so far is the narrator talking about how much he likes the automatic car-wash and how fat his blind date thinks she is even though she's the width of an emaciated and malnourished toothbrush...


hmm.


it does have a nice ring to it though... i think if people actually pronounce out-loud the 'slash' onomatopoeia between 'novella' and 'short story,' it could really sell...



yeah.




big time.

I just don't think i'll ever get over you

i drink good coffee every morning
'comes from a place that's far away
when i'm done i feel like talking
'thout you here, there is less to say

don't want you thinking i'm unhappy
what is closer to the truth
that if i lived till i was a hundred and two
i just don't think i'll ever get over you

no longer moved to drink strong wiskey
i shook the hand of time and i knew
that if i lived 'till i could no longer climb my stairs
i just don't think i'll ever get over you

a face that dances and it haunts me
laugher still ringin' in my ears
i still find pieces of your presence here
even, even after all these years

i don't want you thinking that i don't get asked to dinner
'cuz i here to say that i sometimes do
even though i may soon feel the touch of love
i just don't think i'll ever get over you

if i live 'till i was a hundred and two
i just don't think i'll ever get over you

-Colin Hay, from a song entitled 'I just don't think i'll ever get over you.'

i have been single for over a year now. it had been about 423 days since my girlfriend decided she didn't want me. most of the hurt my heart once knew it has either forgotten... or ignored out of neccessity. the nagging echo of the soft skin on her stomach that once buzzed incessantly in the memory of my finger-tips and the wearing reverberation of the scent of her neck in my nostrils are finally silenced... for the most part. yet i still cannot remove her completely from the seat she once occupied in my heart and my life. it is as if we drank of one another until our fill and-then-some... and as we became drunken in ourselves, flame spilled over the brims of our glasses onto the white washed walls and ground of my heart, spotting it, and staining it forever a tinge of her. i have tried catharsis. i have tried desperately to cleanse and purge and purify my palate of the taste is was dependent upon... even addicted to... but i cannot. i am afraid that there will eternally be a ghost of a once loved woman inhabiting the recesses of my soul, haunting me, reminding me incessantly of the stigma she has left behind.


or, what i like to think will happen, is that when i finally meet HER, i won't even remember why i wrote this in the first place.


so colin hay, i hope you're wrong, man.

Ice

sometimes i just feel like melting.
the heat from the flame gets to me.
every now and again i think it would be easier to

drip
from
my
bones
and collect in a puddle on my carpet.

i could finally let go...

the world could seethe my weary flesh and i would concede myself to judgment.





slowly





roasting





on the skewer of the image if the man i am supposed to be, i would placidly sojourn.


i wouldn't be full... but i would at least be subdued; comatose from the opiate of supreme apathy... happy to be unhappily numb.

I like b&w.

i've been experimenting with black and white lately... i think some of 'em turned out pretty cool...

Argh...

just recently, a friend of mine and i spoke about the sad current state of affairs of christianity, especially christian book stores. what is it we find when we visit the friendly local christian book store? we find items like this...




is this what God wants us to spend our money on? huh? this and food for the poor? this and bibles? what? at first i was ammused by this little piece of iced-out bling. but the more i think about the poignant irony of this feckless and vain object, the more pained and perturbed i become.

gah! i feel like i'm on crazy pills! are mark (http://markisawesome.blogspot.com/) and i the only ones who see the incongruity at work here? the fact that this is even on sale in a 'christian' bookstore is absurd! it's as ludicrous as if the president of p.e.t.a. were to decree that every sign hence-forth declairing the sanctity and basic rights of animals were to no longer written in ink, but instead in kitten and puppy blood. people! think of the kittens and puppies!

christians! c'mon! sheesh... there's nothin' that gets me more peppery than christian's idiocy sometimes...

Life from brokenness.

when i was a child, my neighboors housed a hulking tree in thier back yard that i used to climb after school. i named it frank. frank because that was the name of the biggest kid in my class. i used to peer at the back of his huge, bulbous head during story time and wonder whether he had two regular size brains or one large one. i never came to a stark conclusion. this tree was as mammoth in a vertical way as frank's head was mammoth in a gravitational pull way.

one evening, the tree was struck with lightening, and toppled downward to a ground i'm sure its branches hasn't felt for decades. frank, my favorite tree, was not in good shape.

i saw frank many years later. the trunk was badly split and bent, but the growth of recent years was sturdy and straight. bark had grown over much of the once-exposed heartwood, leaving the trunk misshapen but well protected. how is it, i wondered, that a tree could grow to strength and maturity around such a crippling injury?

i knew a kid born in the inner city. his self concept was badly scarred from parental neglect, racism, crappy teachers, and years of failure. his values were deformed by the survival ethic of the street and by the hurt that had become a burning core of anger... I saw new growth form a protective layer over his open wounds and broken deams. a strong new character developed, marked with unique sensitivities and perceptions. how is it, i wondered, that a kid can grow up to strength and maturity around such deforming childhood experiences?

i once new a christian in the mission field whos life was marred by sin and whose character was bent toward deceitfulness. he struggled with rebellion against authority. his need for glorifying the self intertwined with his earnest efforts to serve. he was plagued with insecurities. spiritual and emotional growth, as well as years of socialization, largely concealed his kinks and twists at his core. yet he was still a potent healer of others. how is it, i wondered, that God could use him?

i have seen God take the broken, deformed things of this world, bless them with new life and sanctify them for his special purpose. from a broken tree, God provides shade in the summer. from a deeply scarred kid, God forms a young man of unusual compassion and understanding, a model of hope to the disheartened inner city. from the twisted personality of a misled missionary, God shapes a healer of emotional pain and uses a rebellios nature for creative purposes. from young-punk, nerd-to-the-bone, checkered past, broken vessel 24 year old who writes blogs no one reads in his spare time, God creates a man who, even though it's not much, still tries his best to make this world a Christ-centered, loving one.

i am reassured to know that the straightness of my grain is not a precondition of usefulness to God. and i am humbled to see that out of the twistedness of my wounds, he designs for me a special purpose and place of service.

remember, and take courage, for it is through our brokenness, not our fixedness, that God chooses to work.

What geographic location is it exactly in which gnomes are concidered frightening?

uh, even at the risk of sounding like 'that guy,' i still gotta say that no matter how much i suspend my disbelief and no matter how tightly i reign my 'book-by-its-cover ' judgement, no matter how much i don't want to...

i'm still questioning the exceptionality of this one...




notice the cover alludes to this particular flick as being 'one sexy horrific ride.'

i'm sorry, i...

i guess uh...

i guess i'm the stupid one really.

i was under the assumption that gnomes were sweet, lawn-born, well-meaning beings who cared only for the salubrity of both gnomanity and humanity along with the advancement of pixi-dust laced cheer and altruistism. apparently i was totally incorrect, i guess gnomes are neither peaceful nor loving...

no, i guess it was obvious to everyone but me that instead they are sexy...

and horrific.

anyway, i had to rent it. it was... it was uh... it uh... *insert head scratch* it was okay... it uh, it had its moments...

yeah, i'm sorry, i'm really trying, but i just can't say anything good about it. unless, of course, i said it was awesome at... uh... ya know, being really, really not very good... yeah, let's just uh... let's just say that.

Age...

"youth is the gift of nature, but age is a work of art."
- stanislaw jerzy lec

i found this fella in new orleans. i'm sure he was on his way to a meet his lady for dinner.

Does this make me a masochist?

i felt like beating the crap out of my body today. i biked around the garden about 4 times. all the way pumping my gears as if the devil himself were breathing fire down my neck. by the time i was finished my eyes bled salt, my nose was a faucet, and my lungs burned feverishly. it felt good. i dunno what it was, it was like my body was just begging to get worked to its full potential... so it did. man, i'm gunna be sore tomorrow.

Frosty the Poet...

why is it that robert frost never warned us that taking the road less traveled greatly increases the odds of spraining our ankles? maybe he thought that if he did, no one would want to tread the unknown...

maybe.

i think it's 'cuz he wanted us to find out for ourselves that it is only while icing our foot that we can see a landscape that is worth ten-fold the pain. he knew if we hadn't first fallen flat on our face, we would have completely missed the true beauty of the path.

Mmmm, nice...

man, it was nice here today! 50's and not a cloud in the sky. i road my bike around the garden today for about 2 hours... until my tire popped, and i had to walk home 3 miles... but other than that, today was beautiful. i think if i had a girl, i would take her out tonight. we'd get all dressed up, i'd put on the one pair of dress slacks i own, and she would put on her favorite dress (girls seem to not like dresses anymore, but i like 'em.) we'd go somewhere fancy, eat 'till we've had our fill... then, of course, we would order desert. something with a lot of chocolate in it.

after dinner, she'd put on the blindfold i had in my car, 'cuz where we were going was a suprise. we'd drive down near buena vista, and i'd find my secret road that takes us to the back side of mt. harvard, only, i probably would pass it at first 'cuz it's dark out. i'd help her out of the car and she would jump on my shoulders and i'd piggy-back her (she'd be barefoot, she says she just likes it better that way) to a campsite a quarter mile away, just far enough off the trail where you can see anyone who happened on the path, but they can't see you. she'd take her blindfold off just in time to see the moon rise over the top of harvard's jagged peak. she'd turn to me, smiling, eyes wide, and kiss me on the cheek. she'd watch the shadows formed by clouds play off the dark and steep crag miles in front of us, and i'd watch the shadows formed by the leafless aspens play off her soft and gentle face. we wouldn't talk. we wouldn't have to. we would simply be happy knowing we were near one another, and that God made this night for us to enjoy, together.

she'd fall asleep on the drive back home, head sweetly pitched toward my shoulder. the blend of the slow hum of my car along with rich melodies of sigur ros tames even the most savage of sweet girls. with every bump we hit on the way home her hair slides and settles over her face a little more. she told me when she was a kid she used to chew on her hair in her sleep, 'it was just an unconcious tick i guess,' she would say. just to be safe i would brush her hair back to where her mouth could no longer unconsiously nibble. and as i pulled my hand away my finger tips would sweep across her soft cheek, and i would wonder to myself if her lips were also as delicate.

i would then remember that 'i have promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep, and miles to go before i sleep.' i would rub my tired eyes and gently laugh at myself for quoting robert frost in my inner dialogue that no one but myself could hear anyway. i would sit up in my seat, start the cd over again, and prepare the for the long journey home; all the way being warmed and comforted by her sincere beauty as she peacefully dreamt next to me.

yeah. yeah, i think that's what i would do tonight.

gentlemen, a word to the wise, she is your best piece of poetry, treat her as such.

I don't care what people think...

i don't care what the check-out lady at target thinks, i like my spidy wallet. she can just... shut up... that's what she can do.

I Am Thankful...

i am thankful that god speaks to me, even if i am not listening. i am thankful for all my wonderful friends. i am thankful for my health. i am thankful for my computer. i am thankful for the t-house. i am thankful for the merciful. i am thankful for my parents, and how generous they are with their money. i am thankful for music. i am thankful for cute babies. i am thankful for beautiful women. i am thankful for my wonderful wife... who i haven’t met yet. i am thankful for my car, ruby, and also for how reliable she is. i am thankful for the pure in heart. i am thankful for pikes peak community college. i am thankful for adam sperling. i am thankful for renae sperling. i am thankful for jeff finn. i am thankful for matt redder. i am thankful for kc gillette. i am thankful for stacie gillette. i am thankful for steve redder. i am thankful for amy feuerhaken. i am thankful for my monetary blessings. i am thankful for my comfortable room. i am thankful for where the earth meets the water, and the water meets the sky. i am thankful for mark heffentager. i am thankful for jen heffentrager. i am thankful for joy teten. i am thankful for youthworks. i am thankful for mark talcott. i am thankful for john potts. i am thankful for jon gerlach. i am thankful for jon lockhorst. i am thankful for mark haase. i am thankful for jon green and erin green. i am thankful for colorado college. i am thankful for those who mourn. i am thankful for dave hansher. i am thankful for dave weddle. i am thankful for sam williams. i am thankful for alex chu. i am thankful for lasse jarvi. i am thankful for travis lang. i am thankful for trisha klempf. i am thankful for meredith albright. i am thankful for onu ocholi. i am thankful for wayne. i am thankful for cactus. i am thankful for todd. i am thankful for my brain. i am thankful for the glen. i am thankful for eagle lake. i am thankful for lynn engle. i am thankful for scott oleberg. im and thankful for nick benesch. i am thankful for the meek. i am thankful for jason sasse. i am thankful for the poor. i am thankful for nature. i am thankful for the mountains. i am thankful for america. i am thankful for colorado. i am thankful for crystal clear mountain steams. i am thankful for warm showers. i am thankful for water pressure. i am thankful for the smell of a woman. i am thankful for black and white pictures of old people. i am thankful for my opposable thumbs. i am thankful for those who are poor in spirit. i am thankful for my heating blanket. i am thankful for my bed. i am thankful for my grandfathers watch. i am thankful for the blue sky. i am thankful for the green grass. i am thankful for gods love. i am thankful for gods mercy. i am thankful for gods presence. i am thankful for gods grace. i am thankful that jesus died in my place. i am thankful that i live close to spaulding. i am thankful for cool autumn breezes. i am thankful for the crunch of leaves beneath my feet. i am thankful for those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. i am thankful for my bicycle. i am thankful for jeff bierd. i am thankful for my body. i am thankful for my sight. i am thankful for my senses. i am thankful for my moonman. i am thankful for my fat, stubby, man-hands. i am thankful for my guitar. i am thankful for the winter. i am thankful for my nostrils freezing together in subzero temps. i am thankful for will and shawna kosel. i am thankful for pierced chapel. i am thankful i can eat fresh snow. i am thankful for the good will. i am thankful for dan sievers. i am thankful for jonah fields. i am thankful for matt stern. i am thankful for ryan peterson. i am thankful for royee vlodover. i am thankful for chocolate. i am thankful for ice cream. i am thankful for bananas. i am thankful for fresh strawberries. i am thankful for hugs. i am thankful for kisses on the neck. i am thankful for the bad times. i am thankful for jeremy hands. i am thankful for chamile williams. i am thankful for josh webb. i am thankful for ian howells. i am thankful for scott lampkin. i am thankful for my brother. i am thankful for movies. i am thankful for sleep. i am thankful for warmth. i am thankful for opportunities. i am thankful for the word. i am thankful for books. i am thankful for the peacemakers. i am thankful for silence. i am thankful for solitude. i am thankful for social experiences. i am thankful for slackerflacker, and all my new blogger buddies. i am thankful for crying. i am thankful for sports. i am thankful for monday night football. i am thankful for nate raulie. i am thankful for light. i am thankful for salt. i am thankful for cheese. i am thankful for minnesota. i am thankful for meat. i am thankful for fun. i ma thankful for those persecuted because of righteousness. i am thankful for God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.

Hustle, Bustle...

"There is a point where in the mystery of existence contradictions meet; where movement is not all movement and stillness is not all stillness; where the idea and the form, the within and the without, are united; where infinite becomes finite, yet not." - rabindranath tagore

Too Bad...

no one uses the term 'spaz' anymore to insult people... why not? that was one of most awesome insults ever. and what about 'syke'? man, what happened to 'syke'? that too was awesome. i tell ya what, there was nothing like a well placed 'siii-eeeek' to really drill someone. man, i gotta try to bring those back... big time.

On Love...

do you love her? or do you love the image of her? or do you love the idea of who you want her to be? or do you simply love not being alone?

and why is it, like chicken, that they all seem to taste the same?

Carelessness And Godliness.

as of late, the distinguishing line between following God's will without care for self and carelessness has all but been totally erased. i have heard it said, even out of my oun mouth that 'i trust in God, but i still lock my door. i trust that God will protect me and help me in my best intrest, but a complete lack of self preservation is just reckless.' is it? did Jesus possess even an ounce of self provision? did he not walk willingly into death? did he not give himself for us? is not the idea of putting oneself directly into the midst of danger concidered ludicrous? but why? why is it that going on summer mission trips, or volunteering at the salvation army, or buying a meal for a homeless man an acceptable 'care,' but putting yourself in the line-of-fire in a gang war that has spilled over into your neighborhood, or leaving the keys in your running car in a poor neighborhood, or opening your home to the homeless knowing that you might be missing a few items in the morning is concidered an unacceptable 'carelessness?'

what of the rich ruler? Jesus called him to sell every single thing he owned and then follow him. luke tells us that he became sad at Jesus' teaching because he 'was very rich.' think about this... Jesus wanted this guy to sell everything, his clothes, his two 60' plasma/hi def tv's, his $300 suits, all his silverware, his bed, complete with down comforter, his new bmw m3, his summer home on martha's vinyard, his original picasso sketch he keeps in the master bedroom, and his 2.3 million dollar mansion he inherited from his father... everything.

if i asked you to sell every piece of material, property, capital, and investment you have ever owned and hand it directly to the first impoverished soul you met on the street, you would probably laugh at me and call me an impractical, irrational, irresponsible, lunatic.

what if God asked of you the same thing? what is it you would call him?