Adams' 4th of July special- the G. W. Bushboy

So a customer mispronounced our P. W. Busboy special the other day, ending with Bushboy. I quickly thought up the subject line, and then Megan hit the ground running with the idea. A huge pancake, the shape of Texas, would serve as a background for the rest of the dish. The syrup would actually be in a container the shape of a miniature oil well, which would dry up before you got enough. The bananas would be carefully arranged in the shape of a "Support our Troops" ribbon, and most of all, only about 35% of people would like it.

***

We did work on the Temporomandibular Joint tonight in class. I thought about Sarah Stanek and her bitey-retainer in college, and how it made her talk with a lisp. Other people I've thought about from college lately include Phil Salazar, Mandie Sanders, Matt Ricke, Evie White, Joe Urschel, Zach Luginbill, and Katie Kobelski, in no particular order. Oh, and that tall, blonde drink of water who was Miss Huntington a few years ago. Can't remember her name, though. She was in a dream I had the other night, hanging out with Katie Smith, who was telling me she wasn't really interested in being friends anymore. I think Miss Sanders was there, too, but every memory I have of her is tangled up with Dodge Omnis and horse tack.

***

I think I've turned the corner. I was happy today for no real reason, and didn't really mind. Really grasping the fact that I have something better, more lasting going on in the long run always catches up with me, even if it takes a while. I think I'm looking forward to seeing my family again next week, even though it was only 3 weeks ago that I left them. I will admit to having been pretty lonely out here the last couple of weeks, working like a dog and massaging like a fool. I got temporarily excited about yet another boy, and am now once again mostly over it. Those connections, even if made for one evening over a stack of David Bowie records and a dog that is afraid of shadows, keep it real enough for me. There are other people in the world, more of my species, that think and emote and consider and laugh and weep like me. Maybe not just like me, and I'll never understand them, not really really, but it's enough. Dr. Schleiffer once told me in college about this dream she had when she herself was an undergrad student. She had this dream where there were two hands, outstretched, coming within inches of each other, over and over again but never clasping. It made me really depressed at the time, I mean seriously like I wanted to cry my eyes out. But then I realized, sometimes the hands themselves are enough, just that there are two of them. And they don't have to touch- they know the other one is there and the best meetings are never physical anyway.

I knew I liked Wesley, but doh! with the evangelical schmevangelical

You scored as Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan.

You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition. You believe that God's grace enables you to choose to believe in him, even though you yourself are totally depraved. The gift of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the life of obedience to which God has called us. You are influenced heavily by John Wesley and the Methodists.

Emergent/Postmodern 61%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 61%
Neo orthodox 54%
Charismatic/Pentecostal 39%
Roman Catholic 32%
Modern Liberal 32%
Reformed Evangelical 25%
Fundamentalist 25%
Classical Liberal 25%

Try the Auckland smoothie- chock full of kiwis with a side of vegemite

In my attempt at being honest with myself and the resounding echo of cyberspace, I have concluded that my recent posts have been thorougly depressing. Sorry. I guess I'd just rather not be fake these days.

It's like massage city around here, and I'm the mayor. But I never seem to have enough done. Kind of like earning money- all you do is work, but there's never enough of that, either. I found myself listening closely this morning in the kitchen as our dish told me how to select the perfect cave. It all started to make sense! No six month leases, no 400,000 dollars a month. All you have to do is make sure it faces east so the sun can warm it up in the morning, and that no water can get in even if it rains for days and days and days. And if you can't find a cave like this, find a mountain and some dynamite and make one.

I think I'm going to write some stuff soon, maybe about the potato lady from Adams, who simultaneously eats potatoes and looks like one. Maybe it will be about how I'm starting to think New Zealand would be a great place to emigrate to, because it is ruled by women and is gorgeous. Just like me.

one more time, chuck corea

I've been thinking about loops. About how my mind loops things, and everything is cyclical. I think that's why I almost flunked out of every math class I ever took, unless it was that part in geometry where you get to put rubber bands on the little nail-boards. I can't really think in a straight line. I think that's why I'm fascinated with Howie Day so much, and how the sound keeps coming back around and gets layered and is different while still the same. I'm wondering if its possible with theatre or written stuff, and how it would work and what it would look like. I think if I just sat down and wrote some stream of consciousness crap it would probably be pretty loopy, in more ways than one. Kind of like this post.

So I worked for like 5 jillion hours today and am exhausted and kind of crabby/crappy/creepy. That means its time to hang out with just my bad self and close the downtown Common Grounds in Denver with the little baristas. Quiche is good this time of night, with a healthy dollop of salsa and some weirdness on the side.

Sometimes I wish I was still in high school, when things were simpler and I was worried about stuff like marching band and if my green cords were clean. Then I remember how much that sucked, and I don't really know if there is ever a part that I will completely like. Or if things will just go better and worse, better and worse- somehow different, somehow the same, just a loop running in the background somewhere.

I'll pack my bags tonight, preflight

I've found myself once again in the midwest for the past few days. It's been a great trip, I have to say. I seem to be continually on the edge of being permanently jaded; this was just what I needed to get some wind back in my sails. First of all, I think most of it boils down to the fact that my spiritual walk ends up being more of a joke than anything else. I pretend to kind of be on top of my game, hand out advice like small bits of wisdom that should be treasured like pearls dripping from my mouth. Really, I'm just full of crap. I'm tired and lonely and not really ever spending time reading my Bible or praying or anything. Just when I really start to feel gone, something wonderful happens like a sermon from John Hay Jr., or having an honest conversation with a brother over a cup of coffee, and I remember what used to be in my heart.

People ask me what I'm up to. How do I politely explain to these semi-interested folks from different stages of my past that I'm living in a hippie Colorado town, taking courses in massage therapy? I get a veneer smile and a nod, and something mumbled about how it sure is beautiful out there. I get more interest when I mention the bit about thinking of Fuller Seminary and a Masters in Theology and the Arts. I'm almost more excited about that Fuller program because of the people I'll meet and the environment I'll be in - a somewhat more thoughtful version of Huntington, perhaps? I don't want the Christian College stupidity, but all of the great things about it I loved. Hopefully Fuller (should I choose to go) will be chock full of experiences similar to Dr. Schleiffer's small group, or discussions held after HC Theatre lab productions, or instructors like Dr. John Sanders.

I think I just have to continually remember that no matter where I go, or what I do, or who I become, that I belong to Someone else. I don't have to change my personality for God- just reflect God's likeness in my own way. My name means "consecrated to God." I want to be like the people in the Community who have names that perfectly describe them- Elohov, Yakkar, Yohannan. The love of God, precious of God, the grace of God. I want my name to be who I am. I want to respond in God's love to whomever I come in contact with, regardless of their lifestyle choices, religious affiliation, or nationality. I want to dance with those who dance, and mourn with those who mourn. I want to be consecrated.

Ibrahim...free!

At last.

A federal judge, one Hon. Ahern Cohn, has released Ibrahim, basically saying the government has been wrong all along. Uber- Conservative websites and blogs are blasting such celebrity supporters as Roger Ebert for being terrorist-lovers, which I guess would make sense if the critic habitually made out with Osama bin-Laden. But according to the feds, Ibrahim Parlak is not and never was a terrorist.

Mr. Parlak, our hats are off and our glasses are raised to you.

here comes June

I've taken a hiatus from blogging... sorry to anyone who stopped by and found a whole lot of nothing new going on.

Things have continued to happen, however. Quick updates- things at Adam'a are good, school is good, roommate is good, and I am good. Except for the continual realization of who I am, which I guess you could say is more of a mixed bag than anything else.

I have a heart that's sick, unable to do the right thing, being caught off guard and swept up into the wrong thing at a moment's notice, when everything seems to be going ok. I have a God of love, who buys me back each time. The fact that I am cognizant of this situation makes it all the more painful to me. I'll never understand it, I won't try to relate it to some slightly humorous and touching anecdote because there isn't one appropriate.

I have a mind made for learning. I look out ahead of myself and think about grad school, or taking sailing lessons, or learning martial arts. I get the weirdest notions at times, say, for instance, to learn how to ride a motorcycle. Or rockclimb. Or go to culinary arts school. I love the Community here in Manitou, and even took Katie with me last night to the first part of the gathering, but they have no real interest in scholarship, only in what they believe God to be telling them. I, on the other hand, believe all truth is God's truth. This makes the academic world shimmer with possibilities; that we may know ourselves, our world and our maker more with each lesson learned, each class taught, and each pupil enlightened.

**

I've been thinking about things like family, houses, cars. I don't know what my own family will look like as I age. God has provided me family in the realm of brothers and sisters in Christ, and if that is all I will ever have in this life, it is still a depth of relationship that many lack. I don't need to wait until I am married to buy a house. I feel very assertive on a lot of fronts, but not so much this one. I think it is important, though, to build for the future - all the while realizing tomorrow may never come. This includes cars. I love my Trooper, but I have come to the conclusion that he just isn't practical for every day driving- at least not after I leave Colorado. So while I don't want to get rid of the Troops, or Jeff, as I've taken to calling him, I think it would be worthwhile (especially if I move to Los Angeles as is planned) to have a small car for commuting. So I would have two cars. What's the harm in that? If they're both cheap, it equals one moderately priced car, with two entirely different options. Just some stuff I'm throwing out there for now.


Lying in bed this morning, I heard planes fly low overhead and thought about how I'd flee into the mountains if they started dropping nukes. There are some things that are important and some that aren't, and I'm just kind of trying to sort them all out right now.

Peace out.