Give

Give something.

Thankfully, all my friends in the New Orleans are safe.

I have nothing to add which hasn't already been said thousands of times before. I pray for all of the victims of this severe disaster, and that God would act in this time of distress.

I hope you and all yours are safe this evening.

[at a loss]
brian

In The Zone

Some of my friends are getting into "The Zone."

"The Zone" is the period of time right before the semester starts where you make all sorts of really big plans and vow yourself blue in the face about how this semester will be different:

... no more scrambling at the last minute to finish the paper worth 50% of your grade.

... no more leaving your 600 pages of reading until the day before it is due.

... no more avoiding exercise and/or a healthy diet.

"This year will be the beginning of the rest of my life," you say while you blithely cruise through "The Zone." "This year," you say, "I will be the me I've always wanted to be."

And then you smile.

Well, I encourage you to wear that smug grin of satisfaction while you can, you "Zoners." Because I know that you sincerely believe that you will be a newer, better you this semester. No more late nights, no more red eyes, no more stomach aches as you pound your head on the library table and repeat, "Oh God, WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF?! NEVER AGAIN!"

The memory of the excrutiating time you called "finals" last semester are close to your heart. When you vow, you really mean these vows. It is with a genuine heart that you plan to keep yourself above water.

You really, honestly, truly, completely plan to zip right through your Mead Day-Planner'ed semester like A BMW roadster on the Autobahn.

And, for the duration of "The Zone," you will zip. Zippity zip zip along, you zippers!

...

Until you hit the four-foot tall speed bumps.

Like your books for the semester weighing an excess of forty pounds, and you realize that each page weighs less than an ounce. And then you get out your calculator, and realize that you have somewhere near 20000 pages to read before you hit finals.

Or until you lose your Mead Day-Planner.

Or until your friend comes in while you're working, and the following dialog ensues.

[Friend]: Hey Dude, you need to come outside with us!
[Student]: I can't. Right now, I have to read.
[Friend]: Read? We're jumping off the roof of the house into a kiddie pool filled with custard!
[Student]: ...
[Friend]: So are you coming or wh-
[Student]: I'M THINKING!!!!!!

So ride "The Zone High" [as I like to call it] while you still can. Because at least you can feel good about your snazzy student self.

That is, until you actually have to be that snazzy student.

And realize you would rather jump into custard.

And realize, in Novemer, that all you have left of that "snazzy student self" at the end of the custard jumping is your self and 1600 pages to read before you start writing your over-weighted research paper.

Hey, before you complain and commence in the semi-annual library table head-bashing, just remember:

You're not bad, you were just in the way of "The Zone."

[splooshhh!]
brian!

Redding Wings

My best friend’s wedding was held today.

It has been quite a road, a difficult but beautiful journey, to this day.

It doesn’t seem that long ago that I met Nick on a baseball diamond in sixth grade.

How could it be five years ago that we cut so many classes to go to the beach or whatever because we finally had [a] senioritis, [b] drivers’ licenses, and [c] absolutely no accountability?

Was it really only a couple of years ago that we had established a tradition of being home on the weekends to watch Adult Swim together, then go on a four or five-mile walk to talk about what life was like in our different colleges?

I have watched Nick as he has grown from a feisty, insolent, wanna-be gangster into a man who has almost finished a pastoral training program at CBU, working as an associate pastor at an established church, and distinguished by his patience and loyalty and sincere heart for God. I have seen anger become sorrow, hatred become compassion, fear become courage, and above all things, passion become purified love.

In short, I have watched as Nick became a man.

And then he met Christine… this wonderful lady who shook everything in his life up because she fit so well. Everyone who has met Christine can tell that she is really pretty—but Nick instantly saw that she was beautiful. Her heart so deep, her patience so abounding, and above all her sincere faith in Christ were all seen by Nick behind the veneer of physical appeal which seems to stop so many.

This morning, I saw Nick jittery with excitement at the thought of what was to happen in a few brief hours. I was alone with Nick as I have come to know him for the last time this afternoon.

We were in a room off to the side of the sanctuary.

"Hey Buddy," I said.

"Hey Buddy," he replied.

"Are you nervous?"

"Not really, no. I was so nervous all last week, but now I'm just... excited!"

"Man," I replied, "I must be nervous for both of us then." And I was: my heart was beating really fast, and my stomach was in knots.

"Do you have the rings?" he asked.

I checked my pockets, and didn't feel the box where I expected it. For a second there, my heart was just behind my eyeballs until I remembered that I had put the box in the left breast pocket.

There they were.

"Yeah, I've got the rings," I told Nick.

I looked at the clock on the wall, which told me that it was 8:40... just as it had all day long, because it was broken. Still, even though it was still 8:40, I knew that 3:30 was drawing really close.

I heard the door handle turn.

I got up to Nick, and said, “Nick, I am so proud to be your best man. I love you so much.”

"I love you too, Brian."

I hugged him, almost crushing his boutonnière, and then his pastor came in and said that it was time for me to go join the bridal procession.

“Goodbye, Nick, and good luck!” I said over my shoulder as I left the groom’s room.

And then I was walking the maid of honor down the aisle.

And then I was standing next to the same old Nick for one last time, as we both watched in awe as Christine approached.

And before I knew it, the rings were out of my coat pocket.

And then he kissed the bride.

And, in the span of a second, I was standing next to a new Nicholas R_____.

Because now, they were Nicholas and Christine R____. They suddenly shared one name, one life path, one destiny. And I couldn’t be happier for them.

God has truly brought these two together, for better or for worse. They have faced many hardships to reach this day safely, but through perseverence they have overcome every difficulty which has met them. I will guard their marriage as best as I can, all the while realizing every day that this Nick is a new Nick...

Because, with all the finality which a pair of bands on fingers can bring, Nick has joined Christine such as he has never joined someone before.

A hard realization, when I have invested so much in a single friendship for eleven years… for over half of my life. I have hitherto been the primary voice of affirmation, rebuke, praise, gratitude, sorrow, and joy.

But now, they are Nick and Christine R____. They are a new creation.

As the best man and best friend of the groom, I had the privilege of offering the first toast to Nick and Christine R____. I told him all I could while on a microphone, but it's pretty damned hard to represent the world of collected emotion and experience from eleven years in the span of two minutes.

Man, time flies far.

Godspeed, Nick and Christine. I eagerly wait to see where God takes you in this world.

[tick]
brian

How To Have An Interesting Experience #24: Involving a Keyboard and Your Lungs

You will need a few common household items for this one:
[1] water bottle.
[1] pair of lungs.
[1] keyboard. A computer is preferable, although a typewriter will serve in a pinch.
[1] candlewax chip inside keyboard.
-[disclaimer: it is not recommended that you pour candlewax onto your keyboard, or that you put anything in your keyboard for that matter.]
-[disclaimer disclaimer: it's not really recommended that you perform the any of the in this actions post anyway, so if you feel like it, go ahead and pour wax all over your keyboard.]

Now that you have all of the items...
01. Get water bottle out of refrigerator.
02. Set water bottle and lungs in front of computer.
03. Connect to the internet to play a game. I chose to play chess.
04. Take cap off of water bottle.
05. Take a sip of water.
06. Set water bottle down on the table with a little too much enthusiasm.
07. Watch as little globules of liquid jump into the air and splatter on corner of keyboard.
08. Think of a way to immediately dry keyboard off, so as to prevent damage to the sensitive contacts underneath the keys.
09. When discovering that no drying surface is available, opt to suck the water off of the keyboard.
10. Suck corner of keyboard, paying no attention to how stupid this sounds.
11. Inhale hidden scented candlewax chip from underneath the "ENTER" key on the number pad.
12. Take a second to savor the pleasant flavor of the candlewax, which not only tastes good, but smells good even from inside of your lungs.
13. Take another second to realize that it also hurts very badly to have wax chips anywhere inside of you, but especially in your lungs.
14. Cough.
15. Cough again.
16. Take another drink out of water bottle.
17. Cough again with water in mouth, but attempt to keep the water inside of you.
18. Head to kitchen sink.
19. Force yourself to keep coughing, attempting to dislodge candlewax from your interior.
20. Start making horrible gagging and choking noises.
21. Look over at your mother, who is on the phone with a friend from another state.
22. Listen to her ask, "Are you okay?"
23. Opt not to answer with words, since you can barely breathe, but give her a thumbs up as you continue to gag and choke.
24. Expectorate into sink.
25. Laugh as you realize that this must look really dumb, and will sound even dumber when you explain what has happened.
26. Learn not to laugh when you are choking, because it makes you choke more.
27. Expectorate into sink again.
28. Exhale sharply.
29. Expectorate again.
30. Exhale with vivacity one final time.
31. Hear your mother speak into the phone, "I'd better go because my child is choking."
32. Tell your mom, "No really, I'm okay [gag] [chortle] [gag]."
33. Hear mother say "Good-bye," as you turn back to the sink.
34. Expectorate and exhale sharply. Repeat as necessary.
35. Examine the dislodged, slimy piece of candlewax in the sink.
36. Drink much more water.
37. Explain situation to your mother, who will undoubtedly look at you as though you were an idiot.
38. Realize that your mother's look is appropriate.
39. Go back to keyboard, and resume game.

[only being myself is enough]
brian!

Blind Adventures

Last night, my friend Tim and I received a call from two girls in distress. You see, Cait and Kathy were in a bind with their blinds, and Andrew deferred them to us. They could not install them without the help of men.

Burly, muscular, tool-wielding men.

So we traveled to their house to see what we could do to help them out.

The first step was to remove the bracket which they had installed in the soft drywall of their window frame. For you see, while these girls had the foresight to buy a tool set from a hardware store [thereby earning the admiration a salesman], they overlooked the important acquisition of a stud finder. Screwing things into drywall is not what contractors would call "a good idea," seeing as how the mounting would be insecure.

I can't blame the ladies, really, because it's not like most windows are made out of drywall. Most are made out of wood. But I digress.

We unscrewed the one bracket they had gotten up, and replaced it on a secure part of the wall [with much grunting from Tim, who was in possession of the Philip's head].

We leveled, measured, and marked where the other end bracket for the first pair of blinds was to go. But the wall was very stubborn, and would have nothing to do with our endeavor. So Tim says to the wall, "Fine. Be that way. I'll get a drill!"

The wall apparently thought we were bluffing, but alas, we were not.

We set off on an adventure to claim a power drill from EIP, Tim and Cait's [and my former] workplace. 

It must be noted that the night prior, EIP had been broken into and almost all of the computers were stolen. So we took our keys, because breaking a window wasn't a viable option.

We tried to get to the front door, but there was a jungle of spider webs obstructing our path. I got web in the face and Tim got web on his clothes, which to him are much more important than my face. I know this because I said, "Oh [something], I've got spider web all over my face!" and he responded, "Don't complain! I've got it all over my clothes!"

Thanks for the support, Tim.

The front door was proving to be an impasse, so we went around to the side door where we were met with more success. We got in, found a light switch, and found a drill. The only problem was that the drill had a bit stuck in it which would not budge on its own.

You see, the chuck was stuck. Chuck is the part of a drill which holds the "bit" or head in place. It has been said, "If the chuck is stuck, then you're pluck out of luck."

You've never heard it said? I have. I just said it.

Tim thought about this stuck-chuck problem, and hard. He came up with a solution.

One which proves to be the slightest bit reckless, but effective.

He stuck the chuck into a vice grip and turned the drill on.

Oh, it worked. The drill bit came out--flying out, actually. It is a good thing we were both standing on the un-chucked side of the drill, because I might not be telling you this otherwise.

With an unstuck chuck, we got ready to exit the premises. But not before a security guard stopped his truck in front of us with our un-stuck chuck, between us and freedom, in the door which we left wide open.

He shone his light upon us, and lo, we looked guilty. For we stand there, covering our faces to protect our eyes from the shining, all garbed in dark clothes and holding EIP property.

I was incredibly tempted to just yell "RUN FOR IT! I'LL DISTRACT HIM!" 

I opened my mouth. 

But Tim said, "We work here. I'm Tim __g___."

The security guard said, "Oh yeah! I recognize you two!" He looks at me. "You were helping them move in June, right?"

No.

"No."

Why didn't I just say yes?

Mr. Security became suspicious again.

"Who's the owner?"

Tim responded: "Duncan _a_______."

That clicked with the security guard, and he left us there.

In retrospect, one might wonder where this particular security guy was two nights ago, when EIP really was being robbed instead of last night when it just looked like it. But more of the story awaits you, if you have been of the nature to read thus far.

Armed with a drill, we returned to the girls' house. Tim walked over to the wall, which looked disappointed with us, but helpless.

Or so we thought.

Tim employed my idea of drilling the screw into the wall without the bracket to make it easier to screw in a second time. He turned on the drill.

He applied even pressure to the screw.

The screw went in.

The wall came out.

Yes, the wall came out. A thin layer of wood separated from the true wall all the way up to the ceiling, much to our surprise and chagrin.

Tim said something, and then unscrewed the nail.

In turn, the layer returned to its proper place as part of the wall, as if it were on a fulcrum.

We thought, and Tim told me to apply firm pressure to the layer while he drilled the screw in a second time.

I was apprehensive. "What if the drill slips?" I ask frankly.

"Oh, it won't slip!" he assured me.

I placed my hands on the wall and applied pressure.

Tim began to drill.

The drill slipped and made a little hole about a half-inch from my hand.

I looked at Tim, but he was intent on not looking back.

He drilled again, and again the drill slipped. This time I felt the bit brush ever-so-gently against my skin.

But I trusted Tim so much that I kept on pressing firmly against the wall.

We finally get the second and third brackets mounted, and the blind installed. Then Cait looked appreciatively at us and said, "Now for the other one!"

Tim looked back at her, with just the slightest signs of fatigue. It was clear that he was done blind-bracketing for the day. But he was happy to insist that the girls try while he laid on the bed and consistently poked them in the heads with a tape measure, and decided that Cait and Kathy were 85 and 74 inches tall, respectively.

While the second blind never got up, we did get to eat cookies and see a wall come away from its proper place and learn how to get a chuck unstuck and how to look very guilty while being totally innocent and find out that Tim's clothes matter more than my face.

All in all, it was a wonderful night.

Too bad Andrew was in bed.

[his loss]
brian!

Too Absurd to be Fabricated

Today, I saw a sign for a water purifier and cell phone shop. Not two signs for two shops, or even one sign for two separate shops, but one sign for one water purifier and cell phone shop.

That's like a light bulb and ham sandwich store.

Or billows and camera shop.

Or ice maker and cinder block repair company.

Goodness.

[slightly bemused]
brian!

apple jacks

Today I went to the Apple Store. I must make this clear: I did NOT go to get a new iPod. I went armed against that idea. Why get a new iPod when I have one already?

I love my iBook and iPod. I would never betray them. They have served me well over the last year. But... they both seem to like breaking at the same time.

I have a 3rd Generation iPod which is supposed to look like this:



but which instead tends to look like this:



You see, my battery is dead. When I turn my iPod on, I always see the Apple logo... something you see only when [a] your battery is dead or [b] something else has gone horribly, horribly wrong.

I know that little guy is supposed to be reassuring and friendly, but its affirmation has long since worn off. Now it scares me... I have come to dread turning on my iPod for fear of seeing it. It's like my mp3 player is haunted by an apple I ate when I was a kid, and now it is seeking some sort of evil revenge upon me by taking what I hold close to my heart: my MUSIC!

"That apple will get his," I thought.

I was right about the battery, but wrong about the price to fix it. At first I thought it would be about $60 to get it serviced, then it was $85, and then it was all the way down to $00. Yay for that!

But then there's a $30 fee to "test the battery." You mean, flip the switch to see the apple logo pop up and then fly away to eat more of my music? I see how the labor justifies the price.

But at the end of the day, it's a $30 discount against the $60 I was prepared to pay. Wahoo.!.!?

However, it takes 2-3 business days to get an iPod tested [again, it's a time-consuming process], and another few days to get a new unit sent in [mine is no longer sold in stores]. So I was told that I would be iPod-less for at least a week.

No iPod = no music. No music = no music, and we all know what that means!

It was a horrible prospect. But a prospect that would save me money. Besides, what was I going to do? Buy another iPod? I remind you, I had NO intention of doing any such thing.

Moving on.

The second reason I went to the Apple Store is because of this:



my pride and joy, my iBook G4 12". I love this little guy. He and I have been through a lot together this year. But instead of looking like this:



it often looks like this:



For you see, the screen flickers and dims and gives me a scare. I think that my monitor is going away, and I don't want it to. Especially not in the middle of the semester. It needs to be fixed before midterms are upon me.

I realized as I entered the store that there were important files on my machine that I had forgotten to back up. And there's always a chance that your hard drive will be wiped when you send it away for service. I do not know why this is... do the technicians just do it for fun? To see how much trouble they can cause?

Seeing as how these files were the only copies I had, and that they were important, I would need to get something to transfer the data to. I asked if they had any thumb drives, and they did: 256mb for $35.

The Apple Store Guy tried to push this on me:



an iPod shuffle 512mb for $100. I said, "Pass. That price is too high."

For you must remember, that I had NO INTENTION of getting another iPod.

But that sneaky old Apple Man, he said to me, "We MIGHT have an open-box model that would be cheaper..."

And I said, jokingly, "Well, if it's $70 or less, then I'll buy it!"

And I grinned merrily. There was no way that would happen.

But Apple Man said, "Hold on." And he went in back, and he grabbed a box, and returned to the counter. The following words issued forth: "$69.95."

My heart leapt. Now, I must remind you that I had NO intention of getting another iPod when I went to the Apple Store. I know that two friends of mine each got one in as many days, and I know that they look nice and I want another one for no good reason. But... now I had a good reason. I needed SOMETHING to get my files, and RIGHT THEN. And this iPod Shuffle was only twice the price for twice the storage, but it had the ability to PLAY music too! How could I not NOT not say yes?

So I said, "Yes." And bought it.

In one stroke, I managed to save stuff from this:



and replace this:



by way of this:



so that I have music and files while both my older products are out of commission.

I still had to seek help for my iBook. I went to the Genius Bar and got a technician after a two-hour wait. My screen flickered the entire time that I waited.

When it came to be my turn, I looked at him and said, "My iBook's screen is flickering!"

And he said to me, "Show me."

I turned the iBook over to him.

And guess what? It stopped flickering as soon as he looked at it.

"It's not flickering," he made clear to me.

"I can see that. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't flicker," I made clear to him back.

"Yes, but it's probably the software," he suggested.

"The software," I replied skeptically.

It must be noted here that the Genius Bar's online appointment scheduler was down. The Apple Store's computers weren't working correctly, which is why I waited two hours for service instead of thirty minutes.

I say this only to point out that perhaps not every technician at the Genius Bar is what the name implies. They can't fix their own computers--why should they be able to fix mine?

It was humbling to have to accept the word of a man whose own computer wouldn't work, but I swallowed my pride and did a software restore off of their external hard drive. We shall see if this also updates the worn wires in my screen joints with new coating.

At the end of the day, I ended up spending $75 on an iPod shuffle to give me a music fix while my regular old iPod is in the shop. I thought I needed it for more, but my justification was swept out from under my feet by the words of a man whose computer doesn't work. Now I had the iPod Shuffle for no good reason, and thought about returning it.

But my mind said, "It's so shiny though..."

And I couldn't argue with that. It WAS so shiny. And a sort of technological wonder... 12 hours of battery life with 120 songs in something the size and weight of a pack of GUM? It's amazing! And amazing things need to be owned by SOMEONE, and that SOMEONE might as well be me...

And by the time I was done thinking this through, I was at home telling my mom about what I had gotten.

Live and learn. And buy.

Apple wins again. Damn you, Apple!

[but in a good way]
brian!