Join Me...

Sit down with me... across from me, and watch as I tuck my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on top of them. I'm not sitting here because I have nothing to do, and I'm not sitting here because I sprained my ankles. I'm sitting here because my soul is tired... weary and worn out. And all I want to do is sink. And lay down my head and fall into a deep, dousing sleep where I can escape - where I can be freed from all of the thoughts spinning through my mind - free from all the worries and expectations and problems with myself, and all the hurt that I feel.

I spent last spring and early summer looking up at the sky, watching the planes blip across the dark night sky... you would have seen me following the jet stream with a concerned longing to be on that plane... be there - be away from where I was - be... gone. I remember hiking on a trail last spring and I just kept looking up at the planes... there were so many, too, flying in every direction away from where I was. So many planes… all offering me a ride to another place.

I tend of run away in my mind. I run away from where I am, even through my imagination. I imagine I am gone, and so I am. I spent those cold spring months having to deal with so much inside me, and I thought I would explode. And all I wanted to do was to drop it all - screw it - and escape... escape to anywhere, even to a non-reality that deep down I know wouldn’t fix a thing.

I'm there again, unfortunately. I put on this great facade of smiles... happy jokes... lots of laughter. But if you were to take a microscope (souloscope?) and look inside, you would find me in this moment of frustration, ravaging questioning, and heavy weightiness of weariness. I am honestly weary of being so....................... Imperfect? What a way to say it... imperfect. I'm sick of feeling like there is so much that I'm not. So much that I could have done differently. So much improving to do. I'm sick of feeling like I do so little right.

I caught myself staring up at a plane tonight, imagining myself in seat 16B, looking out the tiny window onto the city of Bloomington, where a small, tired boy looked up at me. It was traveling Southeast, probably heading toward Miami. It was headed to somewhere that is not here. And it looked so good.

I look up and think about planes more than God. And for some reason a plane can offer me a tangible escape that, even though I'm told otherwise, God doesn't seem to be able to. I read the Word and I believe, I pray and God does answer. But why is it I sit here and so many "earthly" options seem better than Him? Is it because I can stub my toe on them? Why do I prefer what is tangible to what is intangibly profound and life changing? I seem to settle for second (or seventeenth) best and not be bothered by it. Maybe it is because it's safe and I don't need faith for it. I don't know. I just know it isn't working.

I long to find life. I yearn to know freedoms that I haven't even dreamt of. And I think I will, but I'm not convinced, yet. I feel driven away from what was killing me (sin), but strangely enough driven from what can save me. I feel driven to escape... to find something different than what is now. And I think it's good and bad. And now I think I have begun to ramble, so I will close.

Thanks for sitting with me.

It's that time of the year - the time when the cold, whipping wind chaps your lips and gives you that oh-so-crusty look. Personally I have at least 4 different tubes of Chapstick (xtra moisture) at various places. One in my room, one in the kitchen, one in my backpack, and a few in the car (there's something cool about putting frozen Chapstick on... Seriously, try it.) I was sitting in class today and thinking about Chapstick. I looked over to see a fellow student smothering his lips with Chapstick... I mean, this kid was serious about the moisture meter too, because he did like 12 layers. He was thorough. A few minutes later I noticed another student across from me. She pulled out her Chapstick and kept it in the lap-area while de-lidding it. Then (as if she were on a secret mission) she thrust her arms up from behind the desk and quickly applied several layers to her lips. Then she returned the tube to her lap, and right before she snapped the cap on, she pulled it out for two more layers! She was a sneaky one...

So how do you apply YOUR Chapstick? Laps or Shuttle Runs? (Laps means you keep the Chapstick on your lips as you go several times around your mouth while keeping tube-to-lip contact. Shuttle Runs means you go back and forth several times on the either the top or bottom lip and then switching.)

I definitely am a Shuttle Runner. What about you?

Whoa, I did WAY BETTER than I thought!

You paid attention during 40% of high school!

 

34-50% As much as I hate to admit it, this is probably the most common level. Turn off the tv and go to a library!

Do you deserve your high school diploma?
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Monday, Monday.

Well, well, well, look who we have here... a crappy Monday staring me in the face. What are you doing here, Monday, and why have you come to plague me? What did I ever do to you?

The day started with a dream... a dream where I got up on time and got ready, then went to school and arrived there EARLY. (The reason I was early is because I rode my bike onto the high-speed MetroTransit Train which speed along through the air. ... and there was no traffic.) But still I arrived at school an hour a half early, and was so proud of myself for being so prepared.

Then I woke up. And had to get ready for real... and I didn't comb my hair, which always leaves me feeling scraggly and ill-prepared for the day.

OK, so now I have left my car, and am walking downtown towards the building that my class is in. For a split second I thought to myself, "I wonder if I zipped my zipper this morning?" but didn't check, as I assured myself that I wasn't that much of a twit and wouldn't forget something so vitally important. I would never do something that "uncool"... in fact, lately I've really been trying to keep my "cool" meter between a measly 2 - 3 (out of 10,000).

As soon as I was sitting in class chatting to girl next to me, I looked down and my pants were laughing at me. So I zipped them up while watching my cool factor slide from 2.9 to 2.1. Oooohh.

After class ended I went into the commuter lounge (big mistake number 1) to check my email. I sat at a mini table and hooked my laptop up to the internet. Pretty soon the lounge was bustling with commuters who filled in the empty spots, and the conversations began. Unfortunately I don't have the gift of ignoring other people's conversations, and I began to listen subconsciously.

Dropper Girl sat to my right. You may remember her from my Blog last spring. She is a commuter as well as a dropper, but didn't drop anything on me, luckily. Next to her sat Old Kid (my cousin mentioned him...) and next to him sat the Commuter Group Ring leader, named Chris. Chris is a older, quite rotund man who sounds like he is giving the Gettysburg address when he talks. Pretty soon I was picking up on Chris's conversation...

"....and I finally got my new mouse for my computer" says Chris, "I went to this highly technologically advanced store in Maple Grove and picked up this indestructable mouse." He then pulls out a small pinkish purple mouse from his bag and hands it to a fellow techie in the room. "It's even washable" he declares, "you can literally put soap and water on it." I rolled my eyes. What's he gonna do, take a bath with it? But he went on, "And it's quite squishy, too. In fact, you can use it for hours because of it's great shock absorption." I stopped typing and tried not to sputter. I'm picturing a computer mouse off-roading in the Swiss alps, its cord swinging behind it as it does an ollie off a peak. Chris finishes his monologue with, "And it really prevents carpal tunnel in the wrists."

By this time my cool meter has sunk to a sorrowful 1.4 (even though my IQ has gone up) and I had to get out of there! I grabbed my computer and bolted from the room to check my mail.

Monday, Monday... what do I do with you?

Awkward Pose #214-216

Awkward Pose #213

Me and Mindy always like to re-create the Sears-style picture poses whenever there is a camera around. This is one of the best we've ever done.

Versailles

I've decided to take it back a few years... back to the good old days of high school at Jefferson. There, in tenth grade, I attended Spanish I, taught by the distinguished (and often tardy) Mr. Versailles.

As someone who has never really spoken any other languages well, I wasn't looking forward to Spanish. I have no interest in learning foreign languages, and don't really care about too many foreign places or cultures. (Oops) I wanted this class to be easy, straightforward, and fun.

*One month into the class...*

Jason, a 150-pound Asian ghetto kid, is pounding on the type-A, I-did-my-homework-through-my-freshman-year-in-college, nerd kid who sits next to him. "Dude, das piomp!" shouts Jason as he hits the kid in the shoulder again. He has just received his newly finished homework from the poor nerd kid, who is cowering in his desk, nervously laughing and pretending that he isn't seeing his entire life (which includes his insect and stamp collections) flashing before his very eyes. Mr Versialles, who stands less than three feet away with his back toward us, continues on without a hitch. He has no idea that Jason is pounding (and has been pounding) the kid next to him for the entire class period (and the entire quarter).

If you didn't understand when Jason yelled, "Das piomp!" I'll explain it. What he was really saying was "That is pimp" - pimp meaning "cool" (for those of you over 30). Jason loved to say "That's pimp" but couldn't say it normally since his ghetto side was aching to get out. "Dasss piomp!" suited him much better.

So for the entire semester, Jason pounded nerd kid right in front of me. I couldn't say anything, lest I be next on his piomp list. I sat and tried to listen, while repeating phrases like "Yo estoy una amigo" and "Estoy laguna una bamboona". (OK I got that last one from Dr. Suess.) Every few days we would watch a video that was totally in Spanish. No one in the class (except like two smart kids) understood what was going on. So we would either sleep, or wish we were with Consuela, the 13-year-old girl in the capitol city of Mexico, eating a delicioso pastry with her grandmother.

"Dear Mr. Versailles,

I just wanted to write you a quick note to let you know how much I learned in Spanish I. It was SOOOOOO helpful when you got to class about 15 minutes late every day (and especially the time when the principle was waiting for you outside your room.) It was so considerate of you to make us watch movies that were totally in Spanish. It would have also aided us if you would have just stuffed us in a box and shipped us to Mexico with all of the exported illegal aliens so that we could have learned much more in a realistic setting.

Thanks for caring for each of us as real people, not just grades in your grade book. Nerd kid in front of me is probably so glad that he now has the opportunity to work through mountains of issues in counseling, since you took the time to notice him and his situation.

Hopefully I will see you again, Mr. V!

Awdeos,

Jeremy
Spanish I, 2001

The Top Reaons Why I am so Similar to a Kindergartener:

1. I often fall and hurt myself.

2. I recover quickly from my injuries.

3. I sometimes pick my nose when I think no one is looking.

4. I need a buddy to help me figure things out.

5. I like to color.

6. I can't keep my snack on the table.

7. I have to go to the bathroom 17 times per day.

8. When people call me a meanie, I run and tell an adult.

9. I pretend I don't need naps, but I really REALLY do.

10. When asked my age I say, "Twenty-one... and a half."

Renova.

I'd like to introduce you to the new MUST HAVE of the season! Everyone who is anyone will be using it, so you better get on the bandwagon so you don't get left behind with a swirly.

Black toilet paper has finally hit the streets... I just discovered it while browsing various Blogs. Check out Renova's website here and order a couple of rolls!

BUS.

I'm getting my bus license... actually referred to as a "passenger endorsement". In other words, I'm a school bus driver, not a school, school bus driver. Make sense? Good. Anyway, I thought I should keep a record of my experiences... because it has been quite an experience thus far.

I sat in the break room of the First Student Bus Company, waiting for my trainer. At a few minutes after 9, in walked a burly and extremely friendly older man nicknamed Denny. Walking up to me with a large smile, he extended his hand and said, "Courtney?" I reached out my hand, shook his, and clarified, "No, Jeremy." "Oh!" he said, "It's great to meet you!"

Do I look like a Courtney?

We did the pre-trip inspection before hopping into the bus for 4 quick spins around the parking lot. Then we headed out onto the main road. What a strange experience... to look back and see SO many feet of bus behind you! Turning was by far the weirdest, as it is only done after entering the intersection and driving for quite a while. It sort of seems that you are going to drive straight, but then at the last second you turn. Very weird. But fun. I enjoyed it a lot, and am looking forward to driving an entire bus load of 4 and 5 year olds places.

Let me mention that for a moment. We are actually taking the kids on three field trips a week. Including a Twin's Game, Old Log Theater, and Valleyfair! Keep in mind that some of these kids are even Pre-K! Arg. I'll update you on how that goes.

In conclusion, my first bus driving behind the wheel went well. I'm looking forward too my next few, and hopefully at the end of the week I'll be a champion driver.

There's more to come... beep beep.