Legs Tell Stories

Legs tell your stories.

They really do. From dragging stumps courtesy of daily exhaustion, to the peppy lunged steps that recount a great nights rest. From the slightly embarrassing tan lines, to the ghostly embraced whiteness. From the bubbled red bug bites, to the slightest and severe scars. Our legs tell stores better than any other body part.

Legs are the history book of our bodies. They remember what makes them hurt, when they feel like they were floating, when they screamed out for pain, and when laughter was unavoidable. Our legs, tell our stories.

Every boy has the childhood scar resulting from a death defying bike jump over a can of soda off the rickety home-made ramp constructed from left-over fence posts in your best friend's driveway. Every girl has scars from a gravel burn which occurred in 2nd grade playing tag with the boy they liked on the play ground during recess. Our legs really tell our stories.

And right now, this is the story that my legs are telling: Soccer season is here.
I am worn out.
My legs are one their knees begging this to stop. Luckily, tomorrow is an off day for soccer.
But despite the story my legs are telling, i am really looking forward to this season. It should be competitive and fun. I am wondering what story my legs will tell after their soccer playing days are over...

The Art of Packing

well its that time of the year again. its time to box up my belongings and shuttle them to a different space. I hadn't planned on having to do this again until May; however, i find myself not being able to resist neatly organizing books, cleaning supplies, coffee mugs, and the oddly shaped items that define my room into small, labeled boxes.

I don't know about everyone else, but packing is a little piece of heaven for my personality type. I absolutely love manipulating objects in order to fit the most into one box. However, i am quite particular as to what goes into each cardboard cube. Here are a few "box" labels for you:
"desk stuff"
"wall hangings"
"devotion books" "New Testament books" "Psych Books"
"Cleaning supplies"
,etc.

Now a lot of people just shove different things into different spaces and hope for the best when they arrive at their destination. Then, unpacking becomes like Christmas, filled with the wonder of opening a present each time a box is unpacked, often accompanied by the phrase, "Oh, i wonder what is in here!"

But for me, packing is a strategy. I develop a plan, and expect that plan to be effective and efficient. In fact, i am so particular as to how things are packed, i have developed this idea in my mind that there is a "right" way and a "wrong" way to pack. That's right, you didn't know that you could sin simply by stuffing boxes, but you can. Also, when others offer to help me pack, it takes twice as long. Reason? Because i spend 80% of my time fixing what the other person has done. So, i love packing, if it is done right.

But there is so much more that underlies packing. You have to leave. I hate this part. I hate the unfamiliar, the new, the different. Especially when you like where you are. I find it hard to leave my current routine in order to take on a new one. But sometimes, the familiar is mundane. Sometimes the old is molded. So, its time to pack, and with that, leave.

I find it strange that this time, the new, unfamiliar, different place is actually where i have been for the last three years.
Here come the dorms...

Lessons from "People's Court"

I am poor.
Ok, not really,
but i don't make a lot of money.
Ok, not really, But i am cheap.
And i have lived in a townhouse all summer, making me even cheaper.

Needless to say, we do not have cable. This really isn't a big deal to me because during school i don't even have a television. But since i have a television now, i watch it. Its what i do in the morning. My daily viewing schedule breaks down like this:
10:00- The Price is Right (only once in a while because Drew Carry is terrible.)
11:00- The People's Court
12:00- I Love Lucy
12:30- Friends
And then i go to work...

People's Court may be my favorite. Not only do they play the exact same mix of People's Court and commercials, but there are just some ridiculous cases on that show. So in between watching Kara Collins for Vatterott Career Day, i learn some valuable life lessons from the honorable Judge Marilyn Milian, the hottest judge on TV (her own tag line).
Here's what i've learned so far...

1. A contract is a contract.
A contract is simply an agreement that 2 sides agree to give up something valuable. Even if it doesn't say explicitly that the agreement is a contract, it's a contract and it must be abided by. Verbal or written, it is enforceable. Which got me thinking biblical on the definition of contract. Ok, so God gave up his Son for us, what have we given up to fulfill the contract? I feel like the only thing valuable to God would be our lives... (i promise this is the most Christian application i will publish on this blog.)

2. Don't be an idiot. Don't sign something without reading it, don't buy a car without it being inspected, don't participate in illegal pyramid schemes that Starbucks dude always talks to you about, and don't forget to pay back the money a friend gave you. Just don't be an idiot (this covers 80% of the cases).

3. Take pictures. Pictures are solid proof in a court of law. They are also solid proof that you lived life. So take pictures.

4. Repetition works. This was not learned from an episode of the People's Court, but from the commercials that fill the vacancies left by the litigants. Simply by watching the same commercial line-up everyday, i know that i need to call Tolbert, Beadle, and Musgrave if i ever get injured at work. If i become disabled, i can call Paremele Law Firm because that is the only kind of case they take. I know that Andy Griffith comes on at 12:30 and i know that Vatterott is a place where i can change my life. So, repitition works.

5. I wasted an hour a day of my summer watching the People's Court.
Was it worth it? I'll leave it up to the judge...

Following Me

This post has nothing inciteful, funny, or thought provoking. Whatsoever. It was just something that i experienced today that i had never witnessed before in my life. It was something that i have heard a lot about, but nothing that was ever real to me (postmodernism). Here's what happened:

I was at work, mopping the ridiculously large floor. I had just kicked 6 people out, 4 of said loiterers came in at 2:58 (closing time is 3:00). That is a fairly typical day for anyone who works any sort of closing shift anywhere. That was not the odd part of my day. Here is where it gets strange:

Two of the previously mentioned "ejected," one man and one woman, had been sitting on a couch discussing business plans (or something) for the past 3 hours (my entire crappy shift). Since i do everything in the front of the store i.e. sweep, mop, trash, tables, etc., i eavesdrop on customers-- it keeps me sane (buyer beware). So i was doing my typical eavesdropping half sweep, half-hearted routine around the restaurant when i overheard a conversation in which the woman was basically taking the man to school. Once again, this is not the uncommon part of my workday. Actually this is quite typical. Nothing amounted from my snooping, leaving me disgruntled and disappointed. If you come into Columbia Traders and stay til closing time, at least talk about something interesting to keep me entertained as I dance around you with my baby sized broom.

Let's fast forward to the removal process. I tell the two consumers that we close at 3:00 and express my sympathy as to how ridiculous that actually is but nonetheless ask them to depart from the den setting found near the back. The man quickly gathers his belongings and scoots out the door. I move to the other stragglers in the store and politely ask them to get out so i can go home. They leave and i start to mop. This brings us back to where i started. Mopping after being irritated due to the insane 2:58 business. Anyway...

When i mop, i tend to gauck. Typically outside. I also dream of what other things i could be doing if i were not couped up in the spacious cage of Columbia Traders. During my glaring session, i notice the man sitting in his white, mom-version of a Suburban which i am sure was filled with capri-sun and soccer balls. What this man is doing is quite pathetic. You see, the woman with whom he was engaged in dialogue for a non-exaggerated 3 hours was still in the store (she went to the bathroom or something). So, instead of concluding the three hour meeting that he barely escaped with his manhood by going home and saulking due to his inability to control a conversation, he sits in his car, idling, glimpsing back into the store to catch site of the woman he just left.

I continued to mop. He continued to stare.
I finished mopping and watched the creeper cruise away.

This man was a straight-up creeper. A real life, non-Facebook creeper. Creeping in front of Columbia Traders. I am unsure if the woman saw the man stewing in his SUV, but she slipped out the back door and avoided another absurdly long encounter with this "man."

This actually disturbed me and i never want to see it again. Ever. In fact, i am nervous to look outside now out of fear that i may face the reality of someone staring at me as i seep and mop. So thank you Creeper-man for ruining the only place that gives me joy at work: OUTSIDE.

The World Hates Rain

It is raining cats and dogs right now.
Actually, its raining rain. But it is absolutely monsooning (new word). Rain is the best thing in the world. Not only does it make things green and pretty, but is also cleans everything, including my car windshield, which was splattered with bug guts until this afternoon. I love the rain because of its redemptive factors.

But sometimes rain gets a bad rap.
Ok, maybe this is understandable for a select few, although many rain involved incidences are induced by negligence.
But i don't understand how people get away with blaming depression on rain. Or why in movies bad things happen in the rain. Or why everyone stays inside when it is raining. It seems like the world is out to get rain. I'm willing to say that rain makes everything awesome. (probably not an accurate statement but don't bust my bubble).

I think there is a logical reason why everyone seems to hate rain, other than it gets things wet.
So, let's take a brief look at the history of rain:

The first recorded occurrence of rain is recorded in Genesis 7 (Noah and the Ark). This is how the story goes:
The world was indulged in sin. Everyone thought and did evil all the time. It was a horrible place, and God didn't receive the praise he was due. So he sent a rediculous rain storm, resulting in a flooded earth, demolishing all the evil that had developed, and making a clean slate for humanity.

And ever since then, it has been raining. That is the complete history of rain. So what's my logical reason why rain gets a bad rap? I am glad you asked.

The world hates rain because it loves sin.
Follow my logic:
1. The first time it rained, it destroyed evil.
2. The world loves evil (sex, drugs, and rock and roll).
3. Therefore, the world hates rain because it destroyed what it loves.

So when you say that you hate rain, you are really expressing your love of sin. (boom roasted).
Do you want to be a sin lover?
No?
Then, you must be a rain-lover.
Now grab your umbrella and take out your trash.

Dawg Days of August

I don't know how often to write on this, so i'll just write when i feel like it. It is my blog...anyway,


August is here. Already.

And that means the following year will be the 17th of playing soccer. [Insert: "Wow. That is a long time."]
When i was younger and just starting my life of soccer, my club team played in a tournament called:

"The Dawg Days of August"--- That was the cool way of spelling Dawg.

We lost every game in that tournament, which ironically was played in Joplin.
Since then, Club soccer has left the city of Joplin. It was kind of expected. None of their teams were any good, they were just not as bad as my team. Other than playing on a horrible team, here's why we lost every game:
August in Joplin
It was not that the Referees were terrible, or that the field was small, or that the ball was flat. It wasn't the rain or the clouds. It was the HEAT.
And I grew up in Tulsa, so i was used to the hot, end of summer days that compose August in the mid-west.
But Joplin is a completely different kind of heat. And in a bad way. Let me explain:

Other cities, such as Tulsa, St. Louis, Kansas City, Dallas, and "larger" mid-American cities experience the same heat that we feel in Joplin. It is just something that comes with the landscape. But none of those places experience the kind of heat that is experienced in Joplin. They have something that is soothing. They all have something to relieve them from the blistering sun. A coolness clouds the heat in those cities.

The heat is different in Joplin, because it sucks all the coolness out of anything, including the weather.

But one thing that Joplin has in August is school, namely Ozark. And i am excited about that. I really think that i could be a professional student. I love learning. But since that is impractical, i will graduate. And then after that, all the coolness will disappear from Joplin, and so will i. [me leaving does not affect the coolness of joplin, the coolness of joplin affects me leaving] I will move on to a less sweltering, unknown place, with lots of cloud cover. And until then, i will try to keep Joplin's heat from burning me.

So, here's looking forward to April showers, May flowers, and the Dawg Days of August 2010 not in Joplin.