Holidays are boring

Observation: Everyone looks forward to Christmas. Some have even began the countdown til next Christmas

But not me.... Because Christmas is boring.
Even if it is also my birthday

Here's why:
You spend so much time in anticipation. School is let out and you sit at home all day, shaking presents, watching TV, and reflecting on the big day to come. Sometimes it snows, and we have a white Christmas, which is only good in the romanticist thoughts of it. And then it arrives. All the wrapping is removed and we revel in the received gifts.

And then its over.
There are no more gifts to open, family leaves, and the left-overs are put away.
And the only thing left is a gaping void that cannot be filled by your new toys.

And so, Christmas is boring.
After the hour of opening gifts and the amazing lunchtime meal with family, there is nothing left to do.
Everything is closed and suddenly the excitement that exuded your house as gifts were unwrapped dissipates
and your house turns into a confined prison cell.
TV is monotonous. You can only watch Its a Wonderful Life and The Christmas Story so many times.
And there is some unwritten rule that the entirety of Christmas is family time, leaving the option of company unacceptable.

Call me a Grump, or a Scrooge, or whatever term you want,
but the fact remains that modern Christmas is as boring as watching the snow melt.
So, i wouldn't mind if the Grinch stole Christmas. It would only be a punishment.
In fact, I hope Santa gifts it to him.
Ho, Ho, Ho!

The Issue of Environment

Environment, or Inherited?

I choose environment. (Choose or Chose?)
Environment dictates behavior.
Simply look at the floater friend who has no home.
or the trend follower
or the phenomenon of the mob mentality
or athletic events, plays, and dances.
Environment is the rudder to behavior, directing action to reflect the surrounding sea.
It can make you look like an incapable idiot, or a sophisticated savant.
And i refuse to acknowledge ADD or serotonin or the hypothalamus as the route of cultural issues.

So, i am at Panera because of my inability to function in the comfort of my house.
And for that, i blame environment.
I blame the fact that i have had a TV in my room since 14.
I blame the fact that i have not had a TV in my room since 2006.
And i blame the fact that i am home on Christmas Break.
Which brings me to Panera, residing in the aura of coffee and seniors stuck in a routine.

Environment may direct behavior.
But i can choose (choose or chose? ugh, i hate that word)
my surroundings.

A month in abscence

Christmas break is here.
Which actually means a break.
It's not like Thanksgiving break where assignments, family gatherings, and traveling hang over your head.
Outside of work, there is nothing to get done.
So here is my Christmas Break Agenda:

1. Eat Taco Bueno. For the west-coasters, this is like Oklahoma's Tex-Mex version of In-and-Out. It is what i crave.
2. Sleep till 10:00.
3. Watch Bowl Games. Specifically the Cotton Bowl (January 2nd).
4. Read for Fun. I have been pretend reading Pilgrims Progress for months now.
5. Go to real coffee shops. Joplin seems to have destroyed anything not Starbucks.
6. Clean my guitar so i can think about playing it.
7. Spend Money.
8. Whatever i want. Because it is Christmas Break.

boo-yah.

No Place Like Home

I never really liked the Wizard of Oz. And i never knew it was a musical til lately. And i always got scared from those creepy monkeys. But Dorothy makes this statement:

There is no place like home.

Actually, there are plenty of places like home.
Example: the dorm, church, Joplin, Starbucks, a soccer field, a bathroom, a restaurant, a friend's house.
There are a lot of places like home. And each place remarkably reminds me of a different dimension of home.
The comfort of Starbucks, the community of the dorm, the familiarity of Joplin, there is a part of Home everywhere.
There are a lot of places that resemble home.

But don't be fooled. There is only one home.
There may be a lot of posers, but the real deal is only in one place.
No matter how familiar you feel, or the company you are with, or the similarity of the town,
it doesn't compare to your roots.
Home is a simple crossword puzzle and knowing the TV channels. Home is the sounds of the door and the smell of a meal. Home is the warmth of a bed and the voices of family.
Home is the intangibles that just aren't the same anywhere else.
And its good to be home.

Doing it All

So i have been slacking on posting in October. But that is because it was October, and for some reason every professor thinks that it would be a great idea to have every big assignment due in October. But now it is November and the end is in sight.

Its amazing how one little line on a piece of paper can dominate your life for 3 days straight.
Or how 12 full pages can dominate your life for a night.
Or how a paragraph on a page can dominate your life.

Life has been insane lately.
Break-neck speed, everyday.
I feel bad for my roommate (who never sees me),
my girlfriend (who rarely sees me),
and anyone else who would like a fair does of my cheesy personality.
But, i came to Ozark for a reason. And as bad as it sounds, it was not to make friends (awesome) or to get a girlfriend (bonus) or to live with someone cool (he is). I arrived in Joplin in order to prepare for life.

But thankfully, i find myself doing all of these things. And thus the delicate balance begins.
I've tried to make a certain phrase a part of my life this last semester:

"Do a lot, but don't be busy."

This is my last year in college. And i want it to be a good one, not a wasted one.
So that means doing a lot of things, activities, outings, etc. (difficult for me as an introvert).
But it also means not doing so much that i forget about all the things i am doing.

So, as i embark into November, every instinct screams go, go, go.
But my personality pleas stay, stay, stay.
And a question moves to the front of my mind:
How do i do A LOT, but not be busy?
The answer rests in the fulcrum.

Caring about People

My October posting was minimal. Reason?

Because its October and i love October so the amount of time that i spent at my computer
was spent typing papers and such.

ALSO

Because every time i post something, someone gets offended.
Or someone complains about how "lame" the post was
Or how ridiculous it was
And then i feel bad about it.
And then i get over it.
But someone stays mad.

So i have limited my posts. In fact, i have 3 "draft" posts,
So i think i will just start posting those and when people get upset i will simply reply:

Don't read my blog.

But for those who do, i hope you are entertained.
And be prepared for some posts that mention October a lot.
Because i LOVE October.
Too bad it is now November...

Eyes and Teeth

well, today i went to the Dr.'s.
The Dentist
AND
The Optometrist

Optometrist:
I went to a new eye doctor. I guess i have become too old since i last went to the eye doctor because my old one is a pediatric doctor. Apparently they don't let 21 year old college students go there anymore.
Anyway, its a weird experience letting a complete stranger put things in and close to your eyes.

Funny story: One lady did all the eye tests, had me read the lines, and tell her which lens looked better (most of them looked the same). She puts the eye drops in my eyes and then says that the Doctor will be in to see me. That really confused me. I thought she was the eye doctor because i had no idea what this lady looked like.
But, the doc came in and told me that
I have 20-20 vision.
Success.

Dentist:
Then, i went to the dentist.
I hate the dentist.
I've had the same doc my whole life.
And i hate the dentist
The scraping and buzzing and the weird tastes accumulate into a horrible experience always. And then trying to answer the awkward small talk questions while he is poking around is always a frustrating thing. Do i answer and risk my tongue being punctured or do i ignore him and rub the doc the wrong way?
But, i have a cavity.
So, i guess i will floss more.
I hear it adds 7 years to your life.

It was a long day, but at least i can see and eat.

A Simple Joy

Habits are my favorite.
They often get a bad wrap because of the finger-nail biters, the thumb-suckers, the addicts, and the coaches.
However, for me to live a balanced life, i must be a person of habit. I discovered that in the last three weeks.

But I may take habits to an extreme. Let me explain: each of my days is planned out. until December.
Now there is some flexibility in my days in case a tragedy happens, or something comes up. But the day to day living is done. Planned. Expected. Routine. Some may say, boring, but i say prepared.
i LOVE habits.

And so, when my planning, when my habit, when my routine gets stirred up, i don't respond well. My entire life gets thrown off track because i rely on my habits (this is biblical, i think). This happened only 2 weeks into my school year rhythm when Columbia Traders decided to stay open late on Monday Nights to show Monday Night Football. You can imagine the ripple this caused in my life. I think this information corresponded with my (suspected) contraction of the swine flu (see earlier post). That's how poorly i deal with change. I got sick. physically. and literally.

And Mondays were the worst days to take away. I would have preferred any other day than Monday.
Mondays are/were my "personal" days. My "me-time." My be selfish so that you can give the rest of the week, day. Mondays usually consist of a great breakfast, crossing things off my to-do list, and a night cap of Starbucks doing some preferred reading and self-inspection. A take care of myself day.
When people ask to hang out on Mondays, i respond with busy-ness.
In reality, Mondays are about personal business.
To put it frankly, Mondays were the days i looked forward to.

But sadly, these activities were deferred by football. Upsetting, even though i like football.
(I like routines more than football? yes.)
And since my schedule shakeup, i have been nostalgic about my formerly Me-Mondays, remembering how they energized me for the week.

Which leads me to the title of this blog.

A Simple Joy.
I left early from work on Monday.
I didn't know what to do...
(because the extra time wasn't part of my new schedule),
so i did what i used to do...
I grabbed a book, headed to Starbucks, and did some self-inspection.

Isn't it funny how a simple Monday can prepare you for the week.
And how being sent home can be a good thing,
And how a routine can mean so much more:
I feel energized.
I feel healthy
I feel in rhythm.
This is going to be a good week.
I love routines.

Dirty Laundry

Right now,
My room
Stinks. Badly.
Not because of Bradley (roommate).
But because of me.

Which got me thinking why in the world my room stinks. Here are a couple reasons:
1. I have soccer practice 3 times a week. By the end of this rigorous run session, sweat expels from my body at an
exponential rate.
2. I took the youth group on a float trip. Who would have thought that the Illinois River hosted a fowl stench that
floated alongside our canoes.

And so, my room stinks. Badly.
Which got me thinking about doing laundry.
I like doing laundry. With total control- separation, detergent, temperature, and load size are at my discretion. When i do laundry, i like to separate my clothes into 4 loads: whites, blacks/navy's, bright colors, and "others." I am quite particular about this process. Then i go through the regular routine of wash, rinse, repeat. And then through the dryer for a cycle or two, ending at the folding table where I fold and refold until each item reaches its correct appearance, hanging up a few articles along the way.

And then i got to thinking. You can learn a lot about a person by simply "doing laundry" together. I'm not talking about when a person airs out their "dirty laundry." Or sharing a washer with someone's "delicates." I'm talking about how someone compulsively loads, dries, and folds their clothes. Laundry reveals the real person. True colors come out. They don't fade in the wash, but they brighten as nature is cleared of stains concealing personality.

I think i like laundry because it makes me transparent. There is nothing to hide, simply my neurotic, obsessive self concerned about every color and every crease.

Seemingly Pointless

This blog is simply because i told Sonja i was going to blog about it.
Please don't misunderstand this as a bash against Sonja, because it's not.
So, enjoy this ridiculousness and ignore the fact that Sonja is providing the action...

The other day, me and Sonja went to a wedding. Apparently, there are an abnormal amount of weddings to attend at Ozark because that is what people do when they get bored. Get married. Just kidding.
The wedding was a long time coming and it was great. (Congrats Lauren and Patrick).

But, anyway.
We were in route to our final destination (not the movie) when, while traveling, Sonja broke out the finger nail polish.
I had at least 2 issues with this:
1. It smells. And we were in a car. RULE: All scents should be avoided in an air tight automobile, including but not limited to the following: flatulence, perfume/Axe body spray, chopping onions, and finger nail polish.
2. It was raining outside. Therefore, rolling down the window (which isn't enjoyable at 75 mph anyway) was not
an option.
Now, I'm sure at that time i accumulated way more than 2 reasons why this was unacceptable behavior. However, that is unimportant to this story.

Oh, you thought my story was about Sonja putting finger nail polish on in the car? Ok, it kind of was, but it gets better. Next comes the part that i have the more serious problem with, because the stench eventually resided.

You see, Sonja did not just put any kind of finger nail polish on.
No, no, no. She used a very specific kind of polish.
Clear polish to be exact.
She painted her nails in a closed-off car.
with transparent polish.
Could this not wait? Was that clear coating crucial to the appearance of the outfit or something?

Am i the only one who thinks that is crazy?! Clear finger nail polish?! What's the point?

(And I'm not trying to be mean to Sonja, because her nails always look super nice.)

This is why i think that all products should be marketed to women.
Clear finger nail polish can be categorized alongside jewelry, flowers, and anything on sale--
--All things that make women happy but really serve no point in function and practicality.


Maybe i am unable to move across my male-oriented, pragmatic way of thinking to how a female functions and views the world. Either way, for the absurd amount of women that read my blog, clear finger nail polish is dumb.
Don't waste your money. Guys don't notice that your nails are glazed over.
If you want your nails to be shiny, put some glitter on them or something.
But don't buy clear finger nail polish.
Or if you can't escape the American trap of consumerism because you NEED that nail polish,
apply it in an open, breathable area where the stench gets lost with the pollen.

Swine Flu September

The month of Pigs.

September has been one crazy month. Since my last post, i moved into the dorms, started school, and also started soccer (club team). It has definitely been one crazy month: messy, smelly, and fat. One may say, Pig-like. Which brings me to my post: Swine Flu.
I am convinced that i was a victim of H1N1

Evidence:
Symptoms: fever, stuffy nose, dry cough, sore throat, and headache. This means i had all the major symptoms of Swine Flu, other than severe body aches.
Time Frame: Swine Flu lasts for about 8 days, the exact amount of time i felt under the weather. Coincidence?
Treatment: After 48 hours of symptoms, it is not necessary to see a doctor. So, i did not. They simply recommend that
you treat your symptoms. So i took an immunity booster and drank lots of water/juice.
To solidify my argument for my H1N1 experience, i will reveal that i came into contact with someone who had a confirmed case of swine flu.

Therefore, i survived the 2009 H1N1 flu pandemic.

I wore the H1N1 truth on my sleeve for all to see so that they may beware of my contagious nature; however, no one took me serious. They simply brushed my illness off as another seasonal cold... in September... very usual... And now, many are feeling under the weather as a result of their ignorance. Truth: when i get sick, i really do get sick. Don't ignore the signs of swine flu.
So you may be wondering, was it actually swine flu? Does it matter? I was sick...
Also, i am convinced that my strain of swine flu mutated into a stomach flu that has ravaged my dorm floor that past week. Coincidence? doubtful.

Here is the absolute truth about swine flu: It is not the violent strand that it is made out to be. The only reason H1N1 gets the publicity it does, is the contagious respiratory nature of the disease. Fact: Most H1N1 deaths have been a result of complications resulting from a pre-existing condition. In reality, it kills LESS people on average than the regular seasonal flu strand. So while the media hypes the poser infectious disease of H1N1, i will be concerned for those who come down with the real dangerous disease: seasonal flu.

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.

Driving in Silence

Driving in silence.
Have you ever tried it?

It's a weird thing really. But it is something i have forcefully fallen for. Actually, i don't think i would have ever started driving in silence if it were not for my "clunker" that the government wants to "give me cash for."

If you are unfamiliar with my so called car, let me describe:
First, it was bought at a police auction.
Next, it is from the year 1993. I was 5 1/2 when my car was first purchased.
It is a 2 door, Jeep Cherokee Sport, minus 4-wheel drive, built for my inner 16 year old girl ready to cruise.
Also, the exterior paint is starting to match the interior roof. Neither is a good mark.
Finally, the radio only receives one station in medium-large sized cities.

All of that to arrive at this: when i drive on the highway it is either CD or nothing.
So lately, for lack of new CD's, i have been going with nothing.

(Confession: my first experience was not due to lack of new CD's, but lack of CD's in general because i left them in my sister's car.)

Anyway, back on topic. Silence is an awkward thing. It genuinely makes me uncomfortable. It gets even stranger when you look at the car next to you and there is a 43 year old man with a white beard belting out Living on a Prayer as he cruises down the turnpike in his Geo Prism. 'Nuff Said.

But minus the solidarity of my SUV, i find it is near impossible to find silence today.
That's ok, because i can only spend a certain amount of time isolated from intrusive noise.
Its often a relief to know that there will be something filling my ears other than the sound of my own voice.

But a lack of silence makes us dumb people.

Silence is the foundation for becoming smart.
I find it sad that a significant amount of good ideas are formed either in the shower or in some other bathroom fixture. However, this is where silence is found in our culture.

Therefore, practice good hygiene, and trounce yourself in daily silence.

Although i find silence a much needed commodity,
I am not such an extremist to boycott radio, TV, or other white noise.
So i will continue to listen to the radio, CD's, and my Ipod while i drive.
But i will also continue to drive in silence periodically for this simple reason:
To avoid Living on a Prayer and driving a Geo Prism.

Beginning/Continuation.

Well its official. I started a blog. [Insert Lame Joke]

Actually, i have a history of blogs. [Insert Second Lame Joke]

In fact,
EVERY TIME
blogs became popular, i started a blog.
SO, here i am today. Writing a blog. Again. [Insert Final Lame Joke]

However, this one may be slightly different than my past blog [i loved Xanga]. In previous blogs, i wrote about what was happening in my everyday life; I wrote about big thoughts; I wrote about small quips, etc. etc.

Now, i am going to write about my everyday life, thoughts that i incur, and quips.
Different.

So with that in mind, i may need to update my situation. I live in Joplin, Mo, am finishing up a bachelor's degree at Ozark Christian College, and i am a youth minister at a small church in Afton, OK. Usually i say "part-time youth minister," but i am starting to think that phrase does not exist in ministry. I love my life here, but it may be a small step. That is my general situation.

Now, i will finish my first blog (by first i mean latest)
by saying this:
Enduring life is different than living life.