imdaviddave.com

So now I guess I’ll leave this site up for a little while but eventually I’ll take it down.

Because I speak English right.  Well the other day when I was working at one of my part-time jobs at the help desk in the library, a girl came up to me and started speaking to me in a language that I couldn’t understand.  ”I’m sorry, what?” and she spoke slower, this time I could tell she was only speaking in an English accent- she was an international student.

And normally I can understand an English accent; I can watch Harry Potter and understand everything.  So I asked her where she was from, and she told me Liverpool.  She said that every area in England has a different accent, and that she can tell what city someone is from by their accent.  She also said Harry Potter is easy enough for Americans to understand because all the accents are “just London.”

Anyway, she started telling me a story, and I had absolutely no idea what she was saying, but I caught the last part of it and I was like, “yeah.”  I had to ask her to tell me again, and eventually I figured out that she was saying “I took my computer to the Amish lady at the gym who was fixing everybody’s computers,”

“wait- everybody who?” I said.

“Everybody that’s from countries.”  So I guess they had something set up in the gym for the international students to help them get connected to the internet, which even American students need help doing at this university.

Anyway, she went on, “The lady made me leave my computer there, and when I got it back in a few days, I had no anti-virus!  the Amish lady stole me anti-virus!” no for real, she said that.  (I did explain to her that I’m sure the woman was not Amish, because if she was she wouldn’t be in that position.  She was probably either mennonite or just one of those people like the Duggers are, just conservative Christians; also likely is that she was just a regular woman who had on an ankle-length denim skirt and her hair in a bun).

See I have this other part time job, working for the Lock Haven University Foundation Phonathon.  We call all the alumni, faculty, and parents of students and ask them to donate money to the annual fund.  But they can’t just make it that simple for us.  We have to do this stoopid thing called “building rapport” with the alum.

So we have to sit there and have an awkward conversation with whoever we are talking with before we ask them for money.  It’s so dumb, because anyone on the other line is going to know that I just want to ask for money.  We have to ask them questions and get them talking about their jobs, did they end up working in the field that they studied at Lock Haven, did LHU help them establish that career, why did you decide to go into that field, did you like Lock Haven and why, and any kind of other question we can think of for four-eight minutes before we can get to the ask.

And you can just tell they don’t want to be talking to you, and they can tell that I don’t really want to be talking to them- I’m just not that good at acting, especially over the phone.  So it’s basically just a horrifyingly awkward conversation that I would seriously kill to get out of.

And it doesn’t make any sense, because everyday in the call center we are supposed to sit beside a different caller, so we can learn things from each other.  And you know, I always get along with whoever I’m sitting next to.  I can always talk to them and be like, “wow what an awkward conversation,” and then in between calls we talk about the different conundrums we’ve gotten into over the phone, and usually we have like friendly compition like who will raise more money in an evening.

Anyway, these things got me thinking about speech communication.  It seems like when two people are speaking the same language, directly to one another, it should be the most clear and understandable form of human communication.  But it’s just not so.

Like one time my dad called me about the refridgerator, and he said to me, “do you want me to leave this fridge at your brothers?” and I guess he meant do I want it in my room, or am I not gonna use it so go ahead and give it to him.  but I was so confused, and I didn’t know what he was asking.  The truth was I didn’t need it and he could have left it there, but in the end he ended up bringing it to me because of the whole misunderstanding.

So it seems like speech communication is not just communicating by talking to each other.  There seem to be a million other environmental factors.  It doesn’t make sense that I can’t understand a girl who is speaking english to me, and it doesn’t make sense that when I’m talking on the phone I sound like a bumbling idiot, but to the guy next to me I sound like a regular person who can hold a conversation- when I don’t know either of them.

hm.  Here I am at the end and I really don’t know what the point of this one is.  I guess I’m just pointing out what a strange shape verbal communication is in.

It all started when I was running the other day.  In Lock Haven we have an elevated path along the Susquehana river called “The Dyke” that I run on at night.  It’s better than running along the road because I know I won’t be hit by a car.  The path is two miles and a quarter long, and if I run from my apartment, do the whole thing, and then come back, it’s six miles.

But you know, in training for a marathon, six miles isn’t long enough.  By the time I get to the very end of it, there are no more street lights.  From the ones behind me, I can see that at the bottom of the path there is a parking lot, with a bunch of trees behind it.  I always thought maybe the path picks up again on the other side of the parking lot or the trees, but because there are no visible lights from where I stood, I usually just do a mile, turn around and do it again, do two miles, turn around and do them again… until I’ve gotten how far I want to go.

One day, I was running the whole thing strait through, and it was around 11 pm that I got to the end of it.  I decided, with the marathon a few weeks away, that I was going to venture out beyond the trees and see if the path and the lights pick up again.

So I walked down the path and through the parking lot, and I hit a curb so I turned and went the other way.  I didn’t realise how long the parking lot was.

And then, as I was concentrating on the ground so I wouldn’t trip over anything in the dim light, I started to see the ground light up.  Lights! The path was starting again!  But the ground wasn’t just black, it had a yellow line running through it.  And the light wasn’t coming from a street lamp, it was coming from an oncoming car.  RUN!!

Of coarse I made it out of the way, I only had to move about six feet and I had at least seven seconds to do it.  Shaken up, and realising where I was, I got back on the path and started to run again in the other direction.

Then when I was at about mile four, I saw a stoopid dog.  Not just a dog, but a loose dog, with no owner in sight and no leash attached to it’s collar.  It quickly ran up the hill- which is probably steeper than a 45 degree angle, and started to chase me.

It was only a few seconds-no more, I swear- that I tried to run from it.  Immediately I knew that it was a bad idea, and I guess I really only did it to buy myself some time.  But I looked back, and the thing looked like it wanted to kill me.  Like it was really going to bite me.  I’ll admit I’m no expert at interpreting the expressions of dogs, but I wasn’t about to risk it.

At first I just stopped and looked back- the dog stopped too.  Then I started running again, and it started running after me again.

You know, I’m a Christian, so I’ll submit to God’s will.  But there are a few things I will not submit to- unfair rules or regulations, suppression of creativity or harmless self-expression, and most of all, a stoopid animal.  I would never abuse an animal, really, and I would never agree with that kind of behavior- ever.  Seriously, I’m not ok with animals being treated poorly in experimental or factory type situations.  But I would kill a dog before I let it bite me.

But it was too big for me to punt.  So I stopped, turned around, and started fake-out running at it.  I yelled, “Go! Get out of here!!”  It ran back down the hill, and I finished my run.

That’s a lot farther then I would have gotten just a few years ago.  In fact I remember one time when I was walking home from school in Junior High, and neighbors dog got loose, and I was so scared that I stopped dead in my tracks.  I probably stood there for five minutes before the small dog wandered away.

At that point I was afraid of dogs.  I’m not really anymore.  I see them walking with their owners on a leash on the dyke all the time, and I just run right by.  But a dog on a leash is totally different then a dog wandering around on its own, and ten times worse is a dog that’s chasing after me.  I can’t say what I would have done a few years ago (besides from the fact that I would never be running a few years ago), but honestly, I would probably just stand there while the dog bit me.  No for real.  But i’m glad that now I’m to the point where I can scare a dog more than it can scare me.

Anyways, the whole thing got me thinking about Baz Luhrman, and the sunscreen song.  In it, Baz says the words, “Do one thing, everyday, that scares you.”  What great advice.

You know, there’s a lot of things I want to do in my life.  I mean a lot.  And I’m tired of feeling like that dog.  Like when I’m interested or curious about something and start to persue it (and I know that’s all the dog was doing), I’m stopped by something.  It could be that I don’t have enough money, that my parents won’t let me, that it’s too dangerous and I might be killed (which is why my parents won’t let me), it could be because it will only be fun if I do it with a group, and all my friends flake on me, it could be because I can’t get out of work or class or whatever other responsibility- or anything.  But the point is, somewhere along the line I start to understand the words “go, get out of here,” and I run back down the hill.

And that’s what’s going to start changing.  I’ll be the one screaming “get out of here” from now on, at whatever is standing in my way.  I’m starting to see that I have to be more assertive, that I have to work harder for the things I want and the things I want to accomplish, and let fewer things stand in my way.

But this blog isn’t the place to write about it.  This is the place where I came to that conclusion, and another blog- a professional looking one with my own domain name- will be the place where I explore it.  So the next few days will be like my farewell tour.  I have quite a few more topics I want to write about, and then i’ll leave coverage of the marathon for my new blog.  I think starting it with a big accomplishment is the only way to start it, and I can’t bank on another oppurtunity like this.

When I got back to my apartment, my roommate and her friends were up to some shananigans, and she asked me, “Did you have a good run?” I said yeah, but I got chased by a dog.

“You should have punted it.”  Now we’re talkin.

It’s mostly a lot of work, and socialising.  We practice for an hour and a half three afternoons a week, marching parade style to the practice field, up a steep hill, where we go over the drill for our field show over and over, going set-to-set, adjust, go back and do it again, adjust, do it again…. and then march back down the hill to the band room.  Rain or shine.

And then every saturday we perform on the field for the half-time show.  We have to drag ourselves out of bed early in the morning, get to the band room, and put on our impossibly uncomfortable uniforms.  At LHU, that’s a pair of over-alls, a polo shirt, a suit jacket, and an overlay with a cape and a million buttons and straps.  And then the hat with the plume, the black socks, and the dinkles, and the white gloves which really don’t keep your hands warm at all.  Oh, and your instrument, in my case a trombone, and your music for the stand-tunes.  Once we’re all dressed we march parade style all the way up to the field, and Lock Haven is an extremely mountainous college.

For away games, we still have to put on our uniforms, but this time, on a bus, a co-ed bus.  And if you forgot something, you just have to improvise, because we’re probably on the other side of the state until you remember it.  We eat sack lunches and frequently hear the words “I’m changing, and if you don’t want to see it, don’t look.”  Because really, nobody cares what body-parts are exposed on the band bus.  In the end it’s all for the sake of uniformity.

The field show is a whole other story.  I guess that’s the funnest part, the six minute show.  It’s just kind of cool to perform for everyone, you know, you’re actually down there on the field playing your instrument and marching in formations.  Sometimes I feel bad for the people watching if I think they’re trying to figure out what picture we’re making with our formations; there is no picture, we just make cool looking designs.

For the rest of the game, we’re just sitting there in the stands, usually freezing, and hardly playing our stand tunes at all.  I guess there’s this relatively new rule that we’re not allowed to play when the ball is in play, so that means we can only do stand tunes during a time out or between quarters.  So when we do play, our drum major is conducting us, but looking away at the score board so she knows when she has to cut us off so we don’t get in trouble.  That means sometimes we start a song, play a couple measure, and then we’re cut off.

But here’s the thing.  Most of us have been doing this kind of thing for five+ years.  To us, it feels kind of like home.  All of our good memories from high school and college so far are not sitting in the classroom, or the cafeteria or our dorm room, but they’re going to the games and being with our friends and performing, and the commeradery on the bus rides and at rest-stops. 

We’re in positions with the other band members that we’re never in with any of our other friends.  We’re in rare form when we’re together, and that puts us in a unique position to bond with each other.  When you’re in band, your section becomes your brothers and sisters, and the other sections become your cousins.  Ask any band alum, and I’ve asked many: the best  friends someone in band will ever make are other band members.  and in my case there are over fifty to choose from. 

When you’re frustrated, weather it’s with trying to memorise the music or with another band member or your uniform just doesn’t fit, there’s always someone else to share your frustration with you.  And you know, some people just don’t have a lot of friends, because they don’t have good social skills or whatever it is.  But when they’re in band, everyone’s put together, and that means that so many people get the chance to know you, and you get to know them, and you start to see each other in a different light.

At least in the LHU band, we all hang out with each other.  Yeah, that means even the ones we don’t like, and thats because we’ve gone through these strange and unique situations together.  It’s like we’re siblings, and siblings don’t stop being siblings when they don’t like each other. 

For example.  There’s a kid in my section that I never liked.  Ben-Jammin’.  He was always happy.  Or he always acted happy anyway, you know, smiling, telling jokes, blah blah blah.  And I just never knew how to get along with him.  He would say things to me like he was trying to be funny, but you know, we just don’t think the same things are funny.  And I always felt awkward.  And actually, I didn’t want to say this, but Ben-Jammin’ was wierd, and I just didn’t like him. 

And if we were different people, we’d be at each others throats.  But because we’re both tromboners and we sit beside each other and march beside each other, we manage to get along.  Like, at times when I want to say something snotty, I just don’t.  And at times when he wants to do something that would annoy me, he does it to someone else instead. 

When we went to the away game at Slippery Rock University, he ended up having to sit beside me on the bus too, which I wouldn’t have chosen, but actually I really didn’t mind it. I felt good about having learned to be civil to him, and I welcomed the oppurtunity to learn more.  It was pretty awkward, I mean, of coarse he’s nice and everything; he was putting his stuff in the overheard compartment and he asked me if I wanted to put anything in there, and I gave him some stuff to stick there.   When he sat down, he was like, “We’re going to Slippery Cock!” instead of rock, see.  And it was a stoopid thing to say so I just ignored it, but then he thought I didn’t hear it so he said it again, and I had to be like, “I heard you the first time, but I was ignoring it,” in a sarcastic voice.  He just laughed.

Now this next part you’re just going to have to trust me on.  There’s no one more homophobic then homosexuals.  or at least this one; nothing makes me more uncomfortable than physical contact (when we’re warming up for rehearsals, we do a massage circle with everybody in it, and if I’m not sandwitched between two girls, I sit out.  Oh, and I always use stalls, not urinals).   I know, if a strait guy is homophobic, and uncomfortable around gay guys, it’s probably not my fault and I don’t have to punish myself becase of it.  But it’s not my job to cure him either.  If I can do something simple to avoid making somebody else feel uncomfortable, then fine.  I’ll do it.  But Ben-Jammin isn’t homophobic or anything, I mean, he didn’t have a problem sitting next to me and he’s never shown signs of being unconfortable around me at all.

So anyway, he falls asleep, and his head keeps falling on my shoulder.  So with one finger to the side of his head, I just push the thing off.  but he’s all spread out, like, his legs and everything, so I’m like curled up in a ball against the window just to avoid his touch.  I had my legs up on the seat, and in his sleep his arm fell on my leg like it’s an arm rest.  I pushed it off so fast that he woke up, “sorry!” he says.  Me, maintaining my dead-pan, “that’s alright.”

And you know, I don’t know.  I just think he’s alright now.  Like, on the way back we switched and he took the window seat, and then when we got home I left my dinkles in the overhead accidentally, and just when I was about to get back on the bus to get them, he came out with them in his hand. 

See because even though we’re polar opposites, we’re ok.  We’ve been around each other so long, and under such bazarre circumstances, that we learned to zig when the other one zags.  Despite our differences, we’re even willing to help each other out.  And the same kinds of things happen with other band members too, and last year it happened with another person in my section.  I mean, his name is Benjamin, but I’ve always called him Ben-Jammin,’ and I don’t know why.   Very few other organisations- short of the military or ROTC- can give you that kind of experience, and in the end, we don’t just put up with each other and the annoying things we have to do.  We enjoy it- all of it.

And it didn’t help that even though I’ve gone that route probably ten times, and at least five by myself in my own car, I still got lost.  Not only lost, but 30 miles out of the way, and I had to turn around and do the whole thirty miles again.   Everytime I drive between college and home, I always say, ok, this is the time when I’m gonna get it right and I’m not gonna have to call my dad and ask where to go.  And everytime I end up calling.  never only once, either. 

That this was the fifth time was just like rubbing salt on a bruise.  Where do I really get off, not being able to find my way to my own college, having driven there myself time after time?? 

It’s really just a reminder that… things haven’t been going as planned.  I ran the week of band camp, every morning.  But after that, I was just too tired in the mornings.  I know it seems like a lame excuse, but everynight I told myself it was so important that I get up early and run, but when it was actually 6:30 it always seemed more important to keep sleeping.  So then I decided to run at night, something I was hoping to avoid once school started, and I did that for about a week, but then our power go shut off because nobody payed the bill, and if I didn’t have power then I couldn’t really take a shower and if I couldn’t take a shower after running the I just wasn’t going to run.  and in the weeks since then, this and that have gotten in my way.  Nowadays when I run I can hardly get past three miles.  and the marathon is only a little more then a month away. 

And then there’s china.  I’m planning to go to China next semester, to study abroad at Changsha University.  I always knew I was going to study abroad that semester, so I’ve been “saving” money forever.  But where is that money??  I have no Idea.  and even now I have three jobs, but the money still hasn’t started rolling in.  I don’t think I even have two hundred dollars.  and I need two thousand. 

So anyway, the drive ended four hours after it started instead of three, with me frantically searching the world for a gas station, having been on “E” for longer then I felt comfortable with.  When I finally found one, it was 8:35, and I texted my friend who sits beside me in class, “Do you think we’re doing anything important in class today?” because I was considering skipping it to go sleep.  She texted me back, “no, just taking notes.”   But as I got back to my apartment, I realised I had no excuse.  If I left immediately I would be there in time, and really, I wasn’t going to read the book so taking those notes was the only way to get the nfo.  And also, if I was going to miss my 9:05 then there was no reason for me to get up at four in the morning.

So now I’m just telling myself not to focus on what I don’t have.  I have to tell myelf: I will figure out how to drive without getting lost, I will run 26 miles in the Philadelphia Marathon, I will have enough money to get to China.  If i can make to class on time under such feared circumstances, then I will make all these things happen for me.

But as I sat in the dining hall today wondering what good could come of this, because i know some good has to come from everything, I came up with one idea. 

To say a really harsh statement, like “GOD HATES FAGS,” or whatever equally harsh statement sean the baptist was preaching at the top of his lungs, it forces the listener to pick a side.  Where earlier someone might not have thought about homosexuality and Christianity together, when they see this sign they usually know in there gut if they think it’s right or wrong.

BUT, at the same time, maybe that’s not something you should do to someone; make them choose a side.  I know personally, if I’m ever given an ultimatum, I always choose the one that doesn’t make me choose, or neither.   So maybe it’s not a right thing to do, to make someone choose a side.  It’s kind of like violating them.  Personally I’d choose harshness over subtlety any day, but that’s just me. 

and I’m not worried about those Christians giving the rest of us christians a bad name, everyone knows we’re really not all like that. 

oh, and one of the guys from the group tried to hand me a flyer, and I said, “No thanks, I’m a Christian.”

I know exactly how she felt; somewhere between the end of summer and now, which was only really a couple weeks, I feel like I lost  myself too.  like that person I wrote about discovering during my two my get-there is just a memory.  I kind of feel like, my life isn’t mine anymore. 

My computer for example.  It broke, completely totalled.  And I was useless about it.  What do I do? who do I call? so of course I called my dad and he took care of it without me even having to convince him or beg him.  He even coughed up the dough to buy me a new one. 

And of course I’m grateful for it, I need the computer after all, but this is so not about gratitude.  It’s about how, I’m not even involved; not just that I’m not involved, but that I’m not able to be involved.  Because I have no money, I can’t take my computer anywhere to get it fixed, and I certainly can’t buy myself a new one; and since I can’t by myself a new one, I dont get to have a say in which one I get.  I have to take what I can get.  So yeah, i’m grateful for this computer, but who’s computer is it? it certainly doesn’t feel like mine: It comes with no sense of accomplishment for having saved up for months to buy it, and no personalization because I had nothing to do with picking it out.  It feels like my computer isn’t even my computer.

Same thing with my car.  “who’s car?” my mom would say if she heard that.  because my parents bought it after all, and they can’t even let me pretend. 

It’s the same in other areas too.  like, because I have no idea what job I want to do everyone thinks they can suggest one for me.  like I didn’t go through the same career day presentations in high school that everyone else went to.  what am I supposed to say, “oh, thank you, before you mentioned something I never knew dentistry existed as a job choice.”

Oh, and paying my electric bill.  I didn’t have power for like a couple days last week because it got shut off, and everyone was like, “why don’t you pay the bill.”  How am I supposed to respond to that? Smack my forehead like the idea just hit me and say ”Thank you so much, that never crossed my mind as I sat in my dark room and got around by the light of my glow-in-the-dark silly bands.”  obviously there was a reason why it was more complicated then just paying my bill.  but no one considers that.

I try to hold on to the things that are uniquely me.  Like, for example, I hate the sun light.  when most people are saying “it’s such a beautiful day!” I’m holing up in my room or inside somewhere, I’ve even blacked out my window at home and in my apartment at college.  Where it makes most people happy, it makes me mad and annoyed. I never complain more then I do in the heat. I love the rain and the cold and the snow, that’s a beautiful day to me.  Oh, and you know how people are comforted by their dogs? and they love their dogs? well there’s nothing I hate more then a DOG.  I know that statement is going to offend someone, maybe a lot of people.  I just don’t want any of my friends to be animals, I don’t want to feed anyone that’s not my child, I don’t want to walk anyone but myself, and I will not pick up poop.  And if I wanted to hear a Dog bark everytime the doorbell rang… I got nothing.  I mean, I can seriously see that as being the deal-breaker in a relationship.  I would choose a dogless life as a single guy over love and a dog any day. and they are not cute.  Oh and also I ride a unicycle around campus frequently.  I don’t particularly care for the attention it gets me, but I can’t rightly complain, because it comes with the territory and no one’s forcing me to ride it.  I’d like it if that guy the other day didn’t yell at me “get a two wheeler, faggot!”  but I didn’t get upset about it, I laughed because I know he’s jealous.  Haha and one thing I like about myself that’s uniquely me is that I don’t like to say “hi” or “hey” like everyone else; I say it like it’s a statement, with a strait face: “Hi.” Like it’s painful and I’m getting it over with.  I don’t know why I do it, I just don’t like to say it any other way.  But if I say “hello” rather then “hi,” (which is usually when I’m in a good mood, and that means the sun would not be shining on me and there would not be a dog around*), somehow I got into the habbit of saying it like I’m falling off of a cliff: “hellooooo!”

But it’s just like when you get drunk, and then when you sobber up your problems are still there.  When I hop off my unicycler and go into the dining hall, or when I call home from my suffinciently dark room, and as the conversation develops past myseemingly painful and self-gratifyingly awkard ”hi.”,  everything’s the same as it was before.  With every decision I have, someone else always makes it for me.  And the the consiquence weather it’s good or bad, isn’t my own.  It belongs to whoever convinced me.  It’s like a daily thing.  Everyone even tells me how I’m supposed to eat (because I don’t eat healthy and I guess that became everyone else’s problem somehow).  And I sometime I obey these things, not because they told me to, but because it’s actually the right way.  and I just can’t stand it.  Even considering the summer, I can’t remember the last time I got to do what I wanted, when I wanted to do it.  I planned to go to misouri and go skydiving, but my friends flaked on me; I planned to go to pittsburg and see the andy warhol museum, but things came up and I ran out of money;  I was going to save all summer long and have a thousand dollars by the end of it, but here I am without a dime to my name and no idea where all the money I earned went.  And I know everything isn’t about me, I’m just wondering when I’m gonna catch a break.  When do I really get to be me? and if college is the time when I’m supposed to define myself, why do I feel like everyone else is defining me instead? 

And to anyone who tells me to get over it, and to  just suck it up, I’ll say, No.  This is how I feel and I’m NOT comprimising anymore of it: YOU get over ME, YOU suck ME up.  Because it’s really draining to live someone else’s life.

*sometimes people think that because I hate dogs so much, that I like cats, and that is just not true. I’ll be arguing with someone against having a dog, and they’ll say, “well cats are like that too sometimes,” I would say yeah, and i hate cats too.  Basically, I don’t want to run a farm.  I don’t want to live with any animals in my house with me.  I’d like all of my personal connections to be with people rather then animals.  I could really go on forever about it.  How people also annoy me about how they think their dog is smart (what, did it go to school? does it read the newspaper? does it engage in deep and meaningful discussions? no! it’s a stupid animal!) but at the risk of offending anyone and having a long list of comments defending dogs and dog lovers… I’ll stop here.   I mean, if you love your dog, whatever, have it and keep it and enjoy all you want. but don’t let it poop on my yard, don’t let it stick it’s nasty sticky slimy toungue all over my hand or anything else, don’t let it sniff my crotch, and don’t let it bark at me.  or so help me I’ll punt it.  Haha just kidding.  I’d just ignore it.  It’s just not for me.

My idea is that those rich people- the ones who live in real big houses and have more then a couple cars- will downsize and give the extra money to those hungry people.  And that nobody will get real mad and upset with anyone- they’ll know what’s really important and what’s not.  Everyone will say nice things to each other instead of hateful things, and they won’t say hateful things about each other behind their backs either.   And maybe they would discover that it’s more important to just give, then it is to decide who is worthy of a gift.

I want to forget about who deserves love and who deserves hate, which ones have paid their debts to society, and which one’s actions are unforgivable.  Who gets a prize for working hard for the things they have, and who deserves nothing because they got a free ride. 

I want to remember that Jesus died for everyone.  Everyone that ever did anything really mean, Jesus died for them, not “even though” they didn’t deserve it, but because they didn’t deserve it.  And I’d also like to remember that I didn’t deserve it either. 

I’ve been kind of distant for a little over a month.  Both physically as I’ve been travelling and spending time away from home, and mentally as I’ve been focused mostly on God.

I was in Mississippi for a week on a mission trip to work on houses that needed repairs, then I was at Creation, a Christian music festival, and then I was camp counseling for two weeks at a church camp. 

And what was the most important thing I learned? That we- people, on earth, just have to get along with each other.  When someone does something we don’t like, if it’s no big deal and isn’t hurting anyone, we can just say “Whatever.”  If it’s something that needs to be changed and reasonably can be, we can try to do so without getting angry and losing our tempers, and without hurting anyone, even if we think someone deserves to be.  And since that’s not always easy to do, we should forgive each other, and ourselves, when mistakes are made.   

Everything is just so great when nobody gets mad and nobody says hateful things, and everybody says “that’s ok, it’s no biggie,” when someone makes a mistake.   And if when things go wrong for everyone, it brings them closer together instead of farther apart.

And that’s the crazy idea I have for the world, the one I’m trying desparately to figure out how to spread correctly.  What can say that will make someone else understand? and want to do it too?  How can I change the mind of someone who might already be feeling anger and hate? and also important is how can I live this idea?  How can I live it so well that I’ll be a good example for someone else?  That it’ll be so strong as to be contagious?

It seems to me like a lesson in patience and hard work.

I’ve gotten used to the feeling of being annoyed that many of my friends smoke pot.  Actually, if I don’t count the people I go to church with, here at home and my church in Lock Haven, I can only come up with a handful of people that I know that are my age and haven’t smoked pot.  It’s just an annoying thing that I’ve learned to live with.  To be a jerk about it means to lose friends, and like I said, their are few others. 

It’s on my mind right now because lots of people at work today were talking about it.  They’re planning to do it tomorrow night or something, and they invited me to come and do it with them.  Apparently I would be really fun to hang out with when I’m high (Oh so I’m not fun to hang out with when I’m regular… I have to suck deadly fumes into my lungs to earn that title… gotcha.)

It was probably only a minute- no more then sixty seconds I promise- when I actually considered it.  And  before you read on I think it’s important to know that, while sixty seconds is a great deal longer then if I had not considered it at all and simply answered right away with a quick and blunt definitely absolutely not, ever, it’s also a lot shorter then some people who go back and forth for days about it.  And no one would argue that waiting that long to come to my senses is a million dollars better then actually going through with it.

The only thing that hung me up was, I’ve never done it before.  Not that I didn’t have oppurtunities, but the oppurtunities were all at times when I was on fire with the whole “I’m not ever going drink or do drugs thing.”  I suppose that  fires gone down just a little.  I’ll still never drink, because drinking’s no big deal, nobody thinks about you any differently if they know you drink sometimes, or if they know you never drink.  Oh and I won’t do drugs either, it just took me that minute to remember why.

I can’t honestly say what else it was that made me want to do it.  I was just thinking about how one of my career possibilities is still being a youth pastor, and as a youth pastor I might have to deal with youth who are struggling with this issue, and that maybe, how can I really understand and help them without ever having done it.

But then something else occured to me.  What if one of my youth children whatevers asks me if I’ve ever done it.  I wouldn’t ever lie to one of my future youth children whatevers, I  would say (if I’d done it that is) Yes, I’ve done it, and it was a horrible mistake and I regret it and you shouldn’t do it.  That wouldn’t be half as profound as “I was around it a lot, but I never once tried it” because the latter might make him think, “if he can do it I can do it,” while the former would make him think, “if he couldn’t resist temptation, I certainly can’t.  Everyone’s gotta try it at least once.”

But that’s just a fantasy.  A million years in the future.  Right then, when I’m faced with the seemingly easy decision, it comes down to this.   I don’t really want to. 

When I thought about the fact that “everybody’s doing it,”  it made me remember that part about myself that I love, that when everybody’s doing something, I just kinda wanna do something else.

And then there’s this thought that if I go to this house and do it, I would go alone and leave alone.  And I just couldn’t stand being the subject of one of those hackneyed stories, “He thought he could handle driving after getting high but he couldn’t.”  Just another one of a million newspaper articles and high school assembly lecctures where someone is driving under the influence, causes an accident that kills somebody else but lives, gets hated by the entire community, becomes overcome with guilt, and can’t find any excuse for himself.  I’d have no where to hide if that was me, it would follow me around forever. 

And yet another reason.  People smoke pot because it feels good, right? well, if I have to have this feeling, or even if I just want to have this feeling, then something is probably missing in my life, but you know, there’s just nothing missing.  I have school, I have a job, I have a family, friends, enough money; I just don’t have anything that I need to forget about it.  My life is full. 

And with all of this in mind, it just seems like anymore, sneaking around and lying to your parents, going to someone’s house and getting high, is just kiddie games.  You can’t win, you can only lose.  Whether you chicken out, or get caught by your parents or the police, or if everything goes smoothly and you get a really good high: you lose.  Everyone can do whatever they want, but I’m too old for that game.

Sooo tomorrow evening I’ll be at my friends house watching movies… she works at sears too but because of recent scandelous gossip and bad blood  she wasn’t invited to the pot-smoking lose-fest.  So there we’ll be… two people who will part for the evening smelling normal and winning.

But anyway, we were discussing diversity in Church today.  In my opinion, diversity is one of the greatest thing in all of creation.  Like when I think about all the different kind of people in the world, it’s so amazing.  And it’s why I don’t like it when there’s wars between countries, because yeah I love our country, but I love all countries, and I don’t want to kill anyone.  But actually, our sermon was pretty light.  Seriously, if there is a sermon about diversity that doesn’t mention homosexuality, prostitution, atheism, or any other aspect of mankind that’s taboo, then it’s only scratching the surface. 

Please don’t mistakenly think I’m suggesting that a church advocate such things, just that, well, when the speaker said that God loves all of his children, and that we should too, it would have been nice to hear something about how we should do so even (and especially) when it comes to things that are really taboo like that.  Of course it’s easy to treat a black person the same way you treat a white person when you pass in the aisle at a supermarket: most people embrace niether white nor black people while they grocery shop alone.  What I’m asking for is that something is said about the people that it’s really hard to treat equally.  Like people who look funny and are in wheel chairs, or homeless people, and drug addicts, prostitudes, transvestites, polyanderous members of a fight club, people with tattoos up and down their arms and neck, people who buy their dog clothing for Christmas, just anything but the normal person you don’t talk to your friends about having encountered.  It’s the love for that kind of a person that I really want to celebrate.  The love I have to work for, not the kind that comes easy after having gone to a high school and a college that has more then just white people.  Not to just avoid being rude, but instead to really be nice.

And when he failed to address these issues, I knew it was out of concern that anyone would be offended or put off by terms that aren’t socially acceptable in some circles.   I can’t say I blame him; our church is not known in this town to be progressive in this area, to be actively affirming I could say, and a member of the congregation might be at this specific church because of that, and the speaker, who may or may not share those beliefs, can’t be expected to speak in a way that would offend a member who comes here to avoid such an offense.  I’m not saying that they’re right to be offended, or that church leaders should never do anything controversial if it means some of his congregation would disagree, just that I’m not surprised, I heard exactly what I expected, and I understand why it happened this way. 

And noooowwww to bring it back to running, running is pretty amazing.  It’s one of the few activities embraced by almost every community equally.  It’s acceptable for males, females, gays, I can’t say I’ve asked any transexuals but they’re generally open minded I suppose… but you get my point.  It’s not like baseball and football which are male dominated, or Softball and Field hockey, the female ones.  Swimming is another good one, but I can’t stand all that water and all that chlorine getting  in  my eyes and in my hair and making my skin really dry in the winter.

And that’s why I think I’m progressing so much at running.  There are a lot of things I can do at work or at school that I could really screw up, you know, fail a test, give someone the wrong change, but I can’t reasonably fail at running a race that I have no intention of winning.  I improve every time I run, so even if I give it up and don’t run in the marathon in november, I’ve still spent my summer getting into shape and improving my health.  Since I started running, every day is a win.

*Accept “Hope.”  Pandora’s box?? the only good thing to come out of it? give me a break.  Talk about over-rated greek myths.  It’s basically like, when you want something you know you probably won’t get.  But when you get it, you know that your having hope didn’t have anything to do with it.  Faith is so much more powerful to me.  Consider faith in the kingdom of God.  Like, if someone is praying for something, like say, to get out of debt, and they pray and pray and pray and are still in debt, they probably feel like they’re waiting for God to answer their prayers.  It’s because they are praying with hope but not faith.  We don’t wait for God, God waits for us to have faith in him that he will answer our prayers.  It says it in the bible, that when we need something, to get it we need only ask, with faith that our prayer is answered.  Hope is very nerve-racking to me.  When I’m hoping for something to happen, I either remind myself that God will take care of it, or realise that it’s something I shouldn’t be hoping for.