The Warrior

A very influential person in my life is undergoing surgery for a pacemaker. She is 86 years old and has had her heart stop 3 times in the last 2 days. I went to ICU to visit her 2 days ago as they told us to say our goodbyes, but she was unconscious, so I was unable to tell her what she did for me. She wasn't my real grandma, but she might as well have been. At a period in my life when no one was telling me I was worth anything, she did. Every time I would see her she would single me out and tell me that God has something really great for me, that she saw something in me she didn't see in others. She would tell me that not a day went by that she didn't pray for me. Time flew by, she got older and a little bit forgetful, yet I saw her several months ago and she remembered to tell me she still prays for me. Sadly now, she doesn't remember me at all, but I will tell you this; she was one of the handful of people who saw something in me that I didn't and most others didn't either. My teachers told me I was bad and wasn't worthy of their time. Most of my family thought I was Satan himself, even my best friend was worried I might be the anti-Christ. But this woman would look me in the eyes and tell me that I was worth something and one day, God was going to use me. I didn't believe her, but it was nice hearing some positive feedback for a change. Now a believer, I can see that what she saw in me was the potential for what God was about to do in me. Now she lays in bed dying, but it isn't at all a tragedy. She wants to go home, she wants to see Jesus. The other day, Gumby, her grandson and one of my best friends, was sitting with her. She was sat up by the nurse who left and out of no where, she turned and looked at Gumby and said, "I coming Jesus" and collapsed dead. She was tasered over and over while conscious and screaming and she was revived. But she was ready and still is. She may die on the table, and she may live another 20 years, either way, she is a warrior. She did something very special for me in seeing something deeper than what I was allowing others to see. I was a liar and she knew it. I hope I get a chance to tell her this myself, but if I don't I know Jesus will as I was one of the least of these, that she loved Jesus through. I think that is a great legacy to leave behind. I would love be able to have done for someone else what she did for me without even knowing it. She lived a life that was full of purpose and thought about her words before they crossed her lips. She walked carefully and with me, she took the time to take a closer look at me and saw Jesus in my eyes like I desire to see Jesus in others. I was sick, I was hungry, I was dying of thirst, and see saw me. Maybe we can do that for someone else.

The Poem Story

Pushing, shoving, touchdown. Knocking people on the ground. Something, somthing, something something, shaking, aching, black and blue. Broken arms and broken legs, smashed up noses just like eggs. It may not be as bad as it may seem, as long as you don't mind a smashed up team.


This was a poem I turned in for a first grade poetry contest. I won the contest with such a beautiful demonstration on literacy for a first grader. All my teachers were so proud, they hung the poem up for all to see in the hallway. My mother was so proud.


But if only they had all read one of the books in their own library, particularly one of the children's poetry books, they would have found to their surprise the same exact poem published by another child a bit older than I. To this day, I have told no one that my proud moment was a lie. Until now. Sorry mom, sorry Mrs. Hamel, sorry kid I stole the poem from, sorry world.



PS. I don't regret it.

The Door Lock Story

So a funny thing happened last weekend. We were in a bad neighborhood and we needed to stop at the pharmacy to get some diapers for Aevry. Well I stayed in the car with the kids as Laura went inside to get the diapers. As I was sitting there listening to some music, I noticed an unsavory looking black man walking toward me. I will explain the importance that he was black in a moment. I took a look at him, then again, and reach ever so gingerly to the power lock button on my van. I hit the button and a second after I did, the lock unlocked itself. So I hit it again, maybe a little panicked because the perp was getting a bit closer to my car and now giving me a mean stink eye. It again unlocked itself and the guy walked right past me to the drugstore. In which I was terrified for my wife who was still in there. No I am joking about the last part. I kept trying the lock once I was safe and it kept unlocking itself until I realized that maybe this was God doing this to tell me I was either a racist or a guy who stereotypes thuggish ruggish people. I can't tell you why I did that because I believe I would have in that neighborhood no matter what color the scary looking guy was, but I can't be sure. So my wife returns, safely, and I explain to her what happened and she freaks out because it did that to her too a week prior, and wouldn't you know it happened to her while she was trying to lock her door to some unsavory guy too. Coincidence? Hm. We aren't racists, but we did grow up in very white house holds in very white neighborhoods. So who knows.

Anyway, I have posted Part 6 of my screenplay here

Disclaimer: There is a picture of my boy in his underwear below. If you are offended by pictures of kids in their underwear, close this page. He is not in whitey tighties though so I thought is was appropriate enough.


I am in charge of getting the kids up for daycare and getting them there before I go to school on Tues, Wed, and Thur. Well on Thursday, I had a chemistry exam, so I was a little less than attentive that morning. My son has been given the chore of getting himself dressed with the clothes we choose for him and on this morning, he was distracted. I loaded them up in the car after breakfast, drove them to Nana's and as I was getting them out, I realized that Caeden was pants less. I looked twice and told him. He first was embarrassed and scared I was mad, but I smiled which sent him into a fit of laughter. What if this were kindergarten and he took the bus? Would he sit there all day in his underwear? I cannot believe I did not look at his lower half at all until we got to Nana's. Pretty funny though.

Gnomenappers

Knome the gnome has been away for a while now, about 2 or 3 weeks. He was stolen in a heinous prank performed poorly by The Red One and his bumbling cronies. Actually The Red One did not mastermind the gnomenapping, he was merely a common street thug who performed the nabbing. But nevertheless, the gnome is safe and has been traveling since. He even made quite the impression with his nabbers as they wanted to keep him a while longer and show him more places. Here are a couple of pictures of the places he has been. I will send more as they come in.

A Summer Vacation

I saw Jesus in a small, dank little church in Southwest Detroit. It was very hot and humid, the sweat puring onto our eyes making it hard to see. I have a lot of respect for those that travel to far away places as missionaries. I think it is noble, effective, and rewarding. But there are many who cannot make the trip for whatever reason. We volunteered at a church just 10 minutes from where I sleep at night in Mexican Town. It was a Spanish speaking Latino church sitting on the middle of a run down, boarded up, and burnt down neighborhood. The place smelled like a church basement during a rummage sale, it sounded like a bi-lingual DMV on a Tuesday morning, and it was full of children. We got the privilege of helping this church organize and put on it's Vacation Bible School. The building was given to the pastor and pastors wife, both doctors. It is the kind of church that major institutions are glad are there, but will help from afar, as the Methodist Church does. It is funny because if you stepped into this place, you would swear you were on a mission trip in another country only 10 minutes from your house, like when Dorothy opened the door after the tornado to find Oz. Except the opposite of all the gold and splendor. Instead you leave the gold and splendor to open the door to reality that we try fairly hard to forget exists. I don't know how much we actually helped the kids there, but I know we fell in love with them, and I know we were effected. We did see Jesus. Not in a painting, not a historical or allegorical way, but in a real, practical way. We saw Jesus the way, He was always intended to be seen. We saw Him in the face of those that need love. It really reminds me what a jerk I can be. I think sometimes I am doing well, sitting here writing about what Jesus wants and who He is to me, but doing it from my couch in the burbs, when Jesus is 10 minutes from me, in an abandoned house burnt to the ground. I think too much of the country makes this mistake too. We talk and talk and talk, and a lot of good things come out of our mouths, but how much comes out of our lives. I find myself trying to lie to myself and say I am making my difference and doing my part. But we know when a lie is a lie, we just try to mask the lie, clean it up and make it look more believable. If you do ever make it to Detroit, let me know I will direct you to Jesus. Better yet, mapquest your ghetto by you. Find out some things you can do, and go. Jesus will be there too.

Somewhere Other Than Here

How do you feel about your home town. I think we can usually separate into two or three groups. The people who wanted out of it, and usually these people find the first bus ride out and leave, coming back to visit on some holidays and long weekends. There are also those who will never leave, not because we cannot, but because we do not want to. We drive around the streets past all of the places we used to play and live and love every square inch of it. Then there are those who are either indifferent to their surroundings and don't care and those that can't leave for various reasons. I am the one that will not leave because I love it here. I don't feel the need to leave, just because. I drive around the places I have gone thousands of times and I see my own ghosts. Ghosts of playing in the yard with a football. Throwing it up in the air and running after it to catch it for the game winner. I see ghosts of fishing in the Detroit River in mid winter dodging float chunks of ice. I see ghosts of hanging out in coffee houses and gas stations lying about who I was and what I was doing here. I see ghosts of getting arrested and going to jail, which I should regret, but I don't. I could not imagine walking away, this feels like home to me. If you are the one who needed to get out, more power to you, starting over has always been something I admired, but that wasn't me. This is. I went to the pier last night with a friend that I also could not leave and just sat there talking about how the waves still move the same direction and the moon still hits the water just right to point an arrow to somewhere other than here. I sometimes just drive around all of the houses I have lived in, which is a lot. I moved almost every year, but always in the same area because my mom ran a day care and couldn't move too far from her clients. It is a weird feeling to go somehwere and feel exactly the same, but older.

Fences

In Toronto, my brother in law was making fun of Canada. (He works for the government) He was saying how he was going to drop a suggestion in the box that said to bomb Canada. I laugh (American). But my cousin did not (Canadian). She then came back with something a bit off the wall, but totally true. She pointed out America's desire and drive for gated communities. She is right. Why the gates, are we keeping others out or ourselves in. Either way, what are we doing? My friends and I were talking about starting a revolution to get people to tear down their privacy fences. Why do we want so badly to separate us from our neighbors. One thing I noticed and really liked about Canada was the closeness of the homes. Especially in the new communities. We are trying so hard to expand the distance between us and the neighbors, while they are trying to close it. Christians! Tear down the fences! That will be the rally cry. We celebrate when they tore down the wall, we celebrate when they closed the gap between space and mankind, why not break down what separates us from having more quality relationships with our neighbors.

The Roadside Diners in Toronto.

Just got back from Toronto. Had a great time with my family. We were there for the Scottish sides surprise birthday party. People fell down, others were pushed into the pool, lots of use of the word shite. It was a recipe for a good time. I did some writing there and it occurred to me that I have never really shared anything I have worked on with the blogosphere, so I made a new blog. http://thingsthatarentworthreading.blogspot.com/

Here will be a collection of different works, mostly scripts and song lyrics and maybe some MP3's. I will be starting with a full length movie script I wrote 2 years ago and am almost finished filming. I will be posting about 4 pages at a time so that the reading burden will be light. Please comment and let me know what you think. The script jumps through different time periods in one persons life on his journey from birth to a suicide attempt. This script is his letter. Kind of disturbing and morbid at times, but I think you will like it.
So anyway, we left on Friday for Toronto and along the way, we went to this roadside diner, which is one of our things, we go to them almost whenever we see one. Went went in and stepped into another planet or something where we were definitely not welcome. I think we looked the same as everyone else, I didn't notice any boogers hanging out of our noses, because I did check, but everyone was staring at us. Not the kind where you get a glimpse of people looking in your direction, but full out turning around in their chairs and piercing us with their eyes staring. It was weird. Then we sat, and sat, and sat and no waitress. People who came in after us were waited on and it occurred to us that a couple came in later, sat down, and were waited on and were eating before we finally asked for a waitress to order. The food was good, but I cannot figure out for the life of me what the heck kind of world we stepped into. Canada is weird. So weird I caught my son playing with a mounty trading card. I get baseball cards, and football, but a mounty card? Anyway, I will speak more of it tomorrow, I must relax now.

A Productive Disaster

So I forgot to mention in my last post my productivity last weekend. I completely wrecked my basement. I took a hammer and some friends, to be exact all present were: Gumby, The Body, and The Red One. (Anonymous nicknames for people I choose to spend a moderate amount of time with, some would say friends, I prefer the former) We took hammers and crowbars and tore that crap up all over the place. We broke bricks, ripped out all of the walls, got a lot of things that I didn't mean to forget to cover dirty, and them threw all of the 2 tons of debris into a truck bed. It is fun. It is weird how much more fun it is to wreck things rather than fix them, kind of a trend in my life, how about yours? I intend to one day hopefully soon repair this basement, but I am not sure that all is repairable with all that I have broken. Below are pictures in order on appearance: Gumby, The Body, and The Red One

Up North

I went up north to the cabin this past weekend. In Michigan, Up North is a place not a direction. It has deer and bears and turkeys that walk across the dirt roads. It is a beautiful place. At night, is the best time though because after everyone has gone to bed and the noise of a bunch of people has halted, there is me, a fire, and God. I was sitting and looking up at the stars which always shine brighter Up North and I was thinking about how much I do not know about God. I think this is a problem with Christians as a whole, not that we know too much or not enough, but that we convince ourselves that we know God; How He would act, what Jesus would do etc. I don't think we know anything about God except what He allows us to know through His Word. We may think our personal experience and revelation have taught us the nature of God, but we can never trust the way we feel to be fact, because it is emotion. It is like the Tower of Babel. The world is ground level in understanding, or at least the thought that they understand God. Then the religion is the next tier. A place full of people that know God, but do not, but imperfectly. But with every tier we build, arrogance comes with it, the longer we have been a believer, the more we have studied, the degrees, the life and ministry experience, the church background and history, the knowledge of Church dogma. We learn and we learn and we learn which is good, but somehow many forget to leave the pride and arrogance behind. Many have forgotten that it is God that allows us to gain understanding, not our superior intellect or in-tuneness with religion and the ways of the Jedi. So we build towers to show the world our great power and intellect, some of those towers are made with ivory, some with gold, but they are still towers of pride. The last time people tried to build such a tower, they were confounded by God, the One they were trying to reach for, they didn't understand that you cannot reach God because we do not have the capacity to reach God at this point. We are not perfect. So many are turned away from the church, Protestant and Catholic, Methodist and Lutheran, Wesleyan and Baptist, because of the arrogance of it's followers, not because the unbelievability of God. We can be a large hindrance to the Church. When we are right about something, we tend to be arrogant about it which makes us wrong. It is easy for us to make a mess of something because we believe it so strongly that we forget, we don't know anything on our own. Others see this attitude and bolt, it isn't attractive. I have read a lot of books and attended a lot of Bible studies where a person was right about what they were talking about, but no one is listening because no one respects a person who speaks down at people in pride. As a church, we have to stop doing this. I start with me, I have the ability to do this very thing when I believe strongly, but sometimes, we need to shut up. The Bible says to speak only what is uplifting and to build others up. This is a good practice to put in place.

Competition

I used to wear a pendent in high school that said, "F-The World." Except it didn't abbreviate the expletive. I almost got that tattooed on my chest over my heart. Instead, I got the face of Christ just after I realized the existence and love of God. I remember walking around with this me against the world attitude with this huge chip on my shoulder. The truth was that I didn't think much of myself and needed to channel my competitive nature to keep going. If I could make life a competition between me and everyone else, I could survive, because I am and always have been a fighter. I will fight you until I cannot move, ask my wife. If it was me against you, I would die before I would give up. My friends and I used to play twister. There was this one friend, one of my best friends, we will call him The Body, who had a similar mind-set when it came to competition. We would be the last two left at the end of every game. We would fight and fight until we had to agree to call it a tie.
There is this scene in the movie Gattica, where the guy who was looked at as the weaker of two brothers challenges the older, stronger, and more athletic brother to a distance swimming dual. The weaker brother won because the more athletic one had fears that he would not save enough energy for the way back to shore. When they returned, he asked how the younger had planned to get back. The weaker one replied that he didn't save anything for the way back. It was about the battle, he needed to tear his own heart out to survive. This is how I functioned, and to some aspects still do function. I sometimes need to tear my own heart out to survive. If you know me, you know I am competitive. This rubs some the wrong way and causes me to have to apologies a lot, but it is how I function. I frequently find myself needing to fight everything that makes me want to give up trying. In response to my post yesterday, I wrote that with some harsh words and I think I offended some. Sorry. I really am, I didn't mean it to offend anyone, I meant it to remind me to fight for the church. Because often I want to give up on it out of frustration, not just with the people in it, but with myself in it. I sound too preachy sometimes and I really do not want to come off like that. This isn't a blog that I want to become sermons or anything like that. I use it to raise my fist at myself. I find myself yelling when I am frustrated, mostly I will vent to my wife and it comes off like I am venting at my wife, so she tells me to relax, stop yelling at her. I think I do that a lot when I am frustrated with myself. I shout and many get the reasonable impression that I am shouting at them, but I am shouting at myself. I am my own worst critic, but I see a lot of great things in others that I wish I could have in myself. And when I can't manufacture those things in myself, I get angry with myself.

Our Mother

"The church is a whore, but she's my mother." St. Augustine.

This is my new favorite quote. Why is the church a whore? Because she is full of imperfect people. If the church were perfect, it would be defiled the moment one of us imperfect people walked through it's doors. This is the beauty of the church being a whore: I, a whore and an idiot, can walk in and love God with every whore inside and be fully surrounded and embraced by the Creator of all things. The downfall of the church being a whore: It sleeps around, it isn't faithful. A room full of imperfect people will produce imperfect things and hurt a lot of people in the process. As a pastor at my church, I have heard way too many stories of people leaving hurt over something someone has said or done. Many have left the church over it, and many have stopped attending church altogether because of the Christians. But what we need to remember is that people will be imperfect anywhere you find them, whether in a church or in a bar or in a strip club. In the bar, people don't leave and vow to never return to a bar because the alcohol was too warm. They drink it, and hope for the best next time. In a church, if the sound is too loud, or the temperature too cold, or the illustrations too boring, we may leave forever. Why is it that we expect people to be perfect in a church and not anywhere else. It is true that God desires that His children work toward a different style of life, but it is also true, while trying to do the right things, we fail. So if you have left the church, come back and have realistic expectations. These people are your family and in every family, there are fights, but in the end there is love. We learn to put up with some crap to develop love. If you are thinking of leaving, don't. Try harder to love others and accept people for being people just like we are merely people. The Church is here for God and for us to worship together as one. A room full of created people, all unworthy to be there, throwing off prejudices and sin and loving God together as family. The church may be a whore, but she is our mother.

What's Left Over

Most kids go through the rebellious teenage angst stage where they question everything and make themselves a victim of anything. I wonder today, what happens to that aggression and anger in most people. Do we forget that we are angry when dangled money in our faces? Do the feelings fade with maturity? I do not think mine has left. I think today I am still angry, but in different ways. I think about the things that have been done to me and I still cringe and make myself stop thinking about them. My wife brings them up and I quickly change the subject because talking about them makes me feel them, and feeling them makes me feel them. Maybe nothing happens to our angst. Maybe at least in my case, we suppress it and hide it away so we can be lazy and forget it exists until a smell, or a song changes everything and we are forced to push it back into our subconscious. The problem with doing that is that I think our subconscious effects the way we live. When we live with anger stuffed back there, we inadvertently act like a person with anger in his or her life. Maybe, we need to deal with the problem, or I need to deal with the problems. Tonight I heard a song and it made me want to break windows and throw lamps. I reminded me of me being really, really angry. It reminded me of the reason I lied so much, the reason I I tried to hurt people, the reason I did not care at all. It isn't a good feeling, it is dark like an alley at 4 AM. It made my mind return to the bottle to forget, then I remembered that the beverage does not help with the subconscious. It reminded me to hate myself, that isn't conducive to how God feels about me, so that doesn't work either. How do you get it out? I punch a bag, I write scripts that are laced with anger and sadness, I write and perform music that is drenched in who I really am, I work out almost every day, I have personally confronted those that have hurt me, well sorta. Yet still I shake my fist in the air. I think it is me that just can't let go.

What!?

http://www.humanevents.com/article.php?id=24354
Read this article. I am going to be sick right now. As if abortion was not atrocious enough, then comes partial birth abortion, and now induced labor abortion. Dude, how many ways can we think of to kill the next generation? Now we kill them once they are completely born. In the article, Obama concedes that once born, a baby is a person (as if they are not 7 seconds earlier in the birth canal) but then goes on to vote present on a bill that would outlaw this. Voting present is a no vote. This guy wants to lead our country, he wants to bring "Change?" If he can't vote against genocide and the sickest forms of it, then how is he going to lead our country, or what is left of it after he finishes killing all of it's kids. I hate this election, worst one in the history of my life. I can't vote for this guy and Mccain scares me too. Ah. Anyone else have a hunch that America is headed for a disaster? When was the last time we had a decent president? Reagan maybe? I don't know they either want to kill all the babies or bomb everyone else. Where is the party that respects ALL human life, foreign and domestic? We shouldn't have to choose the lesser evil, we should be a country that is blessed and respects the lives of others. Instead unconstitutionally kill everyone. What about everyone else's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? We preach democracy, then bomb the Iraqi children. Where is their right to live? We preach domestic peace, then legislate murder in babies. We preach forgiveness and letting go the need for revenge, then celebrate as we kill criminals in the death penalty. I do not mean to be preachy, because I am sure some of my readers disagree and that is OK, we can do that, but please agree that all life is meaningful and shouldn't be taken so lightly. I will end with this article's final description of the process of induced labor abortion. Mr. Obama said in a speech on the Illinois Senate floor that he could not accept that babies wholly emerged from their mother's wombs are "persons," and thus deserving of equal protection under the Constitution's 14th Amendment.

State and federal versions of this bill became an issue earlier this decade because of "induced labor abortion." This is usually performed on a baby with Down's Syndrome or another problem discovered on the cusp of viability. A doctor medicates the mother to cause premature labor. Babies surviving labor are left untreated to die.
On a side note: If you get pregnant before the wedding, no need to hide it or get a new dress, just do what she did below.

Signs

My wife was driving home from work yesterday and passed this bar. This is my favorite sign ever. What could the story be, it could be a joke, but I would rather believe something crazy like the family went on a vacation to Italy and while there, the children were playing in the park and dad ran off with some hairy woman. Or he was abducted by aliens and had the chance to come home, but chose to stay like in the movie Cocoon when all those old people with wrinkles decided to go in the space ship because it made them young again. I think that is the most likely scenario. The kids miss dad and have to put a sign up to remind him to come home. Or maybe, he has dementia or something and takes walks without anyone noticing and gets lost sometimes, maybe the sign is to show him where home is. Don't know the reason behind it, but i know I like it and am thinking of putting that same sign outside of my house. I think my dad has dementia, he totally forgot that he had sex with my mom. (Laura's Joke) She sits here over my shoulder as I write, spell checking me on the fly and inserting quips and jokes here and there, also censoring my words because of my lack of that filter we talked about earlier. She is sooooooooooooo funny.

Balance

Is it a sign of age to grow more chest hair? I looked down today to find a forest worthy of dreadlocks. Maybe not that bad, I actually have less chest hair than the average guy, but for me, any is a lot. So I have been thinking about balance. As a young boy, I used to walk across the tops of swing-sets. The higher the better, but I remember the first time I got cocky and fell and nearly broke my ribs. As a young adult, I worked construction, and once fell three stories through the skeleton of the house to the basement floor from the roof. I survived, but could have been killed. I trip up the stairs almost every time I walk up them, Sometimes I really smash my shins. If I am not careful, I get hurt. Same with everything else, we need balance. I have been having a hard time getting adjusted since I began school again. It is a huge, new thing that takes a lot of time and I am having a hard time juggling on two feet. So I notice some tripping and falling going on. I get cocky, then fall. Pride comes before a fall, ask me any time, I will testify to it. Pride is the killer of talent and potential. It seems, the more talented you are at what you do, the less interested you get, the bigger stage you need to be faithful. This is true everywhere, especially the church. Very talented people in the church fall more easily because they allow arrogance to creep in. They jump from place to place living off the compliments of others who are dazzled by their talent, then when it gets old and boring, they leave usually hurting a lot as they go. This is imbalance too. We are sometimes not able to balance the positive with the negative. Some are killed by criticism, some are killed by compliments. One sounds more fun, but in both cases you die. Balance is difficult. There have been times when I think I can do anything I set my eyes on, and there are times when I do not believe I can accomplish another breath. Remain humble, but be confident in yourself. Be aggressive, but not at the expense of others. Turn the other cheek, but do not let others abuse you. Serve your church, but not at the expense of your family. In all of these things, there is a fine line that if crossed can ruin you. Off subject though, is it OK to laugh when someone trips, but doesn't get hurt?

A Pub Fight

I say some pretty stupid things sometimes. I think I lack that filter that most people have in their heads that keep them from saying the awful things that stroll through their heads. I was at a pub Friday night meeting with some friends and there was this guy that looked a lot like Napoleon Dynamite there. I had seem him previously at my 30th birthday singing Mr. Jones, by Counting Crows which is my favorite band. He was letting it all hang out, not literally, singing on the tables and getting the crowd into it. Well Friday, he was walking from the bathroom and I looked at him as he passed and said to Laura, “I want to fight this guy I like him so much.” I know that is a weird thing to say, I say a lot of weird things, it is kind of my thing. And the whole world knows that my voice carries. Well, he looked at me and was like, “What! Why?” Then sat down with his friends and started to talk. I went on talking with my friends and a little later, Laura told me that she thought the guy looked somewhat disturbed. Maybe he didn’t hear the rest of what I was saying, so I went over and spoke to him. I asked him if he had heard all of what I was saying, and he told me all he heard was that I wanted to fight him and he has been sitting there pooping bricks ever since. I explained that I meant that as a compliment and that explanation is a challenge to sell because it is hard to mean I want to fight that guy as a compliment. He got it, laughed, then went and sang some Karaoke. He dedicated his first song to the guy that was going to beat his A&% a minute ago. He said “This song is kinda sensual” and sang me a love song. I was flattered to be able to scare someone even if he was a skinny little guy, but it made me think of the absence of this filter. I say some really dumb things out loud. Last year I was eating at a restaurant with some friends and an Asian old man came walking in and sat at the booth next to us with his Caucasian friends. I got bored and said to my friend Heather, “Heather, you think that guy is Asian?” Of course he was, he looked Asian like every other Asian looks Asian. Well, one of the women heard what I said and answered, “Yes, he is Asian.” “What an idiot I am,” I thought. Then lied and said I was speaking of another Asian sitting around us. The thing is, I love Asians, I always say, they are my favorite minority. See, there I go again. I like to joke around and never mean anything I am saying to harm others. I always liked to think that this was an endearing quality, like how Stephen Colbert cannot be disliked, no matter what he says because it is just Colbert being Colbert. But maybe I am not like that, what if I am Michael Richards from Seinfeld, who says things that get him severely hated. Not that I am funny like a comedian, but these two also lack the filter.

A's

I got straight A's this semester, I am so happy, I will do the dance of joy. Next semester starts Tuesday, so the dance must be short, but how great is God that He has given me strength. More to say tomorrow, for now I will smile.

Jumper

I watched the movie Jumper last night. I thought over all the movie was entertaining, but it was the concept, not the movie that interested me. What if you could jump from one place to another anywhere on earth at any moment you wanted. I think this would be the greatest super power to ever exist. You could see anything You could eat lunch in Venice on a boat in the streets, then take a nap on the Grand Canyon (unless you are an active sleeper and roll over a lot, then that could be bad). After nap, you could sit on top of Mt. Everest to cool off, then off to Stonehenge to write a blog. Then dinner in Iceland. I haven't been far in my life. I went to Scotland on my honeymoon, and Canada a billion times, but other than that no where. I have never seen the ocean except for in a plane, I haven't seen much, so this concept is pretty cool for me. I think I would be like a Robin Hood kind of dude. I would jump in to the wealthy life and take some cash, then jump over to Uganda and drop it off. And probably bring some orphaned kids back with me. The movie failed because it took a great concept and a real chance to show something different, like the kid helping someone and instead it played to the American revenge and get rich mind. There was this scene where he was watching TV and it was live and someone was stuck somewhere with their life in jeopardy and he walked right out of the apartment. But the dude took every opportunity to rob every bank he could find. Quite a shallow failure on the film maker's part, but what do you expect from Hollywood. What would you do if you had this power?