Once again, I'm moving into a new apartment.  Well, NEW might be a little misleading - I think homesteaders probably set the foundation and lets just say that mildew can't form that thickly over the course of just a few years.  Anyways, it's home. 

Being in college and moving into a real apt is a little weird though.  I have no furniture (Dordt supplied it), almost no dishes (just shared with roomies), and no bed.  I look pretty pathetic through and through.  A normal person would go and buy some of these necessities, but I'm moving back to Dordt in August and will then be faced with the opposite problem of having too much stuff.  I'll pretty much sit there looking rather sad with no belongings for the next few months.

Work has been absolutely insane.  I told my boss that I'm willing to work quite a bit over the next couple of months.  She scheduled me for EVERY DAY from today until March 18th.  I'm all for money, but seriously, I need to have a life.  She scheduled me for all evenings too!!  3-11's and 6-11's!  Thank the Lord my gf lives in Chicago because if she were even here, I'd probably see the same amount of her. 

Anyways, I need to run some errands.  The place needs some cleaning supplies and other necessities, and my car needs to be cleaned out.  Hope everything is going well for everyone.  Leave a message.

J

Hello again everyone.  It's late and I, once again, cannot sleep.  The events of this evening have kept me thinking.  See, I was at a wedding tonight.  It was wonderful of course – the bride was gorgeous, the groom was handsome, and everyone could see that they were obviously in love.  It was my second wedding in two weeks.  Here are some observations about the weddings in general:

1. If you go to the wedding with a significant other, you better (BETTER) not chuckle when you see her crying as the little flower girl/ring bearer/grandparents/photographer/ random stranger SHE'S NEVER MET goes by.  I did.   With the look I got, I'm pretty sure the invite to my own wedding is no longer a sure thing.   (Note:  This last one didn't actually happen to me, but a friend.  I put myself in there to keep the narritive running smoothly...suckers.  I would never do such a thing.)

2.   Regardless of the person, any bride will look beautiful on her wedding day.  I’ve known both brides in the last two weddings and found myself shocked when they walked down the isle (and it’s not like they were homely to begin with).  They literally glowed.  At that point I looked at the groom with a little bit of pity.  I mean seriously, would you want to stand NEXT to the prettiest thing in the room?  Both were good looking guys, but looked like lepers standing next to their brides.  Granted, everyone in the room knows who she’s going home with…  

3.  The “in” thing for grooms to do now is cry (maybe it’s not so new…?).  I mean sobbing, trying to make it through the vows, blubbering, wondering why (oh why!?) the handkerchief that came with the tux is just for show and doesn't come out of the pocket.  The poor guy in the first wedding was so emotional that when he had to read his own vows off the paper, he actually read “page 2” out loud. *crowd laughs*  The good thing is that everyone in the church thought it was rather touching (including me) and all it did was add to the effect of how strongly he felt about his bride.  Also, when I think about it, I would much rather see an emotional couple than two stone cold figures up there just nodding along with the pastor.  

4.   Unless they know what they’re doing, Pastors need to stick with the regular liturgy.  This pastor tonight started quoting divorce statistics to the couple, and complimented them on how brave they are to get married in our society.  Call me a traditionalists, but the D word should never be uttered just as a couple is about to give their vows – even if the pastor does end it with a good point.  It was very odd.  I mean, after a woman gives birth, does a doctor say, “Man, aren’t you glad you didn’t go through with that whole abortion thing??”  I’m sure the woman would indeed be glad she had her baby, but you get the idea…  

5.    Watching people that in love makes you think.  I’m not saying the thoughts are good or bad, but it’s impossible to look at them and not be moved to some sort of thought.  You can almost feel the synapses jumping when you look around.  Maybe an old couple is remembering their wedding, knowing what the young couple has in store.  Another couple looks at each other and knows their ready to take that next step, and another couple knows they aren’t.  A lot of times when you look around in church, the majority of people have some sort of glazed over look on their eyes.  Personally, I use to count things.  Bricks, planks, pews, people, Bibles…you name it.  Not so at weddings.

Okay, that’s all on that.  I’m sleepy now.  Maybe more later.  Comment.

Sorry for my absence in updating.  Work has been crazy and to be honest, I just haven’t really had a whole lot to write about.  Each day is much like the last, dragging from one to the next.  I spent the last weekend in Mason City, having to go home to pick up a car and go to the wedding of a friend.  By the way, it was a wedding so perfect that I actually get a little nauseous at the idea of having my own ever compared to it.  Thank you Kim and Mike Goodwin (isn’t that an awesome last name too?).

While the weekend was fun and eventful, I won’t bore any of you with its specifics.  I saw my family, I got a car, I went to a wedding, and had lots of fun in the process.   Something interesting did happen on the way home though.

The ride from Mason City to Sioux Center is about three and a half hours long.  It’s quite possibly the worst drive in the Midwest.  The road is usually full of tractors and combines, all incapable of traveling more than 30 mph, and the cars don’t do much better.  The land is flat, the sun is constantly in your eyes, and radio stations seem to feel that hog prices and recorded church sermons are more entertaining than actual music.  Okay, maybe it’s not that bad but you get the idea.  It makes for a long trip.

So there I was, traveling along, when a cop passes me traveling in the opposite direction.  He hits the breaks, the lights go on, and he starts a u-turn.  Shit.  Now in all honesty – seriously – I have no idea what he thought he was going to pull me over for.  I wasn’t speeding.  In fact, I had just slowed down for a tractor, and was a few mph under the 55 limit.  I hadn’t been driving erratically, all my lights worked, and you get the idea.  I was Mr. DMV himself.  The cop pulled up behind me. 

My hands were on the wheel.  A cop friend told me to do that – I guess cops like to see your hands when they walk up to the car, and at that point I was all about making cops happy.  I looked in my rear view mirror and watched him get out of the squad car.  He closed his door, and started walking toward me.  It was hot out – sunny without a cloud in the sky.  He had his sun glasses on.

About fifteen yards from my rear bumper the cop stumbled.  A puff of dirt went up.  Then he fell.  Now let me make sure you understand this.  He didn’t just fall to his knees and get up as though nothing happened.  This was one of those “feet hit the ground LAST, dirt in your hair, hands didn’t have time to break your fall, absolutely made an ass of yourself” falls.  And I watched it all happen.  His sunglasses landed somewhere up by my rear doors, his gun fell to the side, and his tidy black uniform was now a grumbled mess of sand, dirt, gravel, and prairie grass.  He just laid there for a second and then slowly got up.  He dusted himself off, looking around, wondering if there had been a trip wire or something hidden away somewhere.  “No sireee,” I though, “You did that all by yourself, big guy.”  Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I LOVE good slap-stick comedy.  For some reason, watching people slip, trip, fall, get hit with something, or any other kind of physical comedy, absolutely floors me.  I will laugh so hard I cry at the site of a good stumble.  And I had just witnessed a doosie.

The cop finally looked up at my car and suddenly remembered that he had pulled someone over.  He looked mad.  I was laughing.  I don’t know why it took me so long, but the thought hit me like a load of bricks:  “Jason, there is no way in hell you’re getting out of a ticket while laughing at the police officer who pulled you over.”  Being that he didn’t really have a good reason to pull me over in the first place, I figured he was probably in the mood to make something up - my pointing and laughing would probably spark his creativity.  Double shit. 

I think everyone can appreciate a good attack of the giggles.  I think everyone has been in church, at a funeral, in a breakup, listening to a friend complain/cry about something, or other places where it’s inappropriate to laugh, and been absolutely incapable of holding it in.  The officer walked up to my window. 

I had somehow stopped laughing.  My face was straight, my hands were on the wheel (white knuckled mind you), and I was breathing regularly.  Now laughs don’t just disappear.  They’re like pressure in a balloon:  just because you squeeze it somewhere doesn’t mean the air there disappears – it goes somewhere else - the same with laughter.  My knees were bouncing.

“Hello sir.  How are you today?” asked the officer.

“Not too bad.  Heading home.”  I replied.

“Any idea why I pulled you over today?” 

“No idea actually.  I was pretty surprised.”  My stomach heaved.  My legs buckled together.  I held my breath.

That’s when it happened.  A curve appeared at the right corner of my mouth.  It was unavoidable – I had to laugh.  Air was coming up and I had to do something.  I went with plan A:  I turned my head away from the officer and coughed.  A lot.  I was smiling the whole time, praying that if I let out a little of the “pressure”, I would be able to control it a little better.  I took a moment and figured I was okay to turn my head back toward the cop.

I said plan A earlier because I originally had a plan B and C.  I forget what they were now, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.  After I turned my head back to the cop I completely lost it.  I started smiling as soon as I looked at the dirt on his uniform and started heaving when I saw it all replayed in my head.  I held onto the wheel, put my head on it, and just laughed.  Tears streamed down my cheek. 

After what felt like a good ten minutes, I heard, “Its not that funny sir.”  I laughed harder.

This story is already ridiculously long for all that happened, so I’ll just leave it and simply say that the cop was OBVIOUSLY embarrassed (his cheeks turned a shade of red nature never intended) and admitted that he had forgotten why he pulled me over in the first place.  He told me to get to wherever I was going.  I nodded in agreement, still trying to breath regularly.  I threw the car into first and took off.  I cop pulled off into the opposite direction.

Okay, some of you may be sitting there thinking that the story I just told is pretty dumb.  Well, that’s just tough.  It’s my blog site – back off.  I’ve been chuckling the entire time it’s taken me to write it.  Comment if you like.

I didn’t eat yesterday.  The fact that I didn’t eat anything in itself is a little worrisome, but not what’s bothering me.  What’s bothering me is that I didn’t eat because I didn’t remember to.  That’s right people – read it again –I forgot to eat.  Now some of you may be crying b.s. and that’s okay.  I don’t blame you.   But I’m completely serious - I woke up this morning with a raging hunger and no idea as to why.   I haven’t regularly eaten breakfast since middle school and haven’t felt hunger pains for that meal since…so I was definitely wondering what was up.  I tried to think back to the last time I had eaten and found myself at a complete blank.  Supper? – no, I was at work.  Lunch? – I took a nap before work and skipped it.  Breakfast? – see above.  I remembered a cookie at the hospital because I had to share it with a resident (it’s the only way I could get her to eat and when I say share, I mean we ate separate ones at the same time).  Other than that all I could remember was drinking water and a can of coke.  That was the point at which I got a little worried.

You ever have an idea hit and then have your whole perspective changed?  Whether or not that perspective is accurate is debatable, but I feel as though I’m freakin a little.  I took a shower this after noon and looked in the mirror only to realize that I can see ribs.  Ribs!!  Now when the hell did that happen?!  The good news is that I can see abs as well, so I got pumped, but quickly focused back on the problem.  Anyone who knows me at all knows that I think a little too much.  I started to wonder…can you be anorexic and not know it?  I don’t think I’m fat and actually enjoy the way I look, so I dismissed that one pretty quick.  I thought about it a bit and realized that food isn’t the problem.  I think I have a memory problem.

I started to realize how often I really forget things – stupid little things.  I was in the shower the other day and forgot whether or not I had already washed my hair.  “Was that today or yesterday…?” I just sat there, feeling my hair, wondering if it was squeaky enough (by the way, when Jesus comes back and asks me to give an account of my life, I wonder what he’s going to say when I explain that a couple of hours were devoted to checking for squeakiness and re-rinsing armpits because I found soap there ten minutes after getting out of the shower the first time).  As you’ve probably guessed, the shower isn’t exactly a place of glory for me.  My IQ drops about forty points when I get under hot water.  Example:  I don’t allow myself to buy liquid soap anymore – shampoo goes on the body, body wash goes in the hair (every time!).  I’m almost 23 and still can’t…..never mind.

Back to the forgetting.  If you were to introduce me to someone, I’d have a better chance of guessing their social security number than remembering their name ten minutes after meeting them.  This one is especially embarrassing and gets me into more trouble than the rest.  I also lose keys like it’s my job.  And there are many, many  more examples of how I forget things…

Also frustrating is how I remember things that have absolutely no bearing on my life whatsoever.  For example, I just pulled these facts of the top of my head, typing as fast as possible…

The average person laughs 13 times a day…which reminds me that my life isn’t near funny enough.

On average, 1000 people choke on ball point pens every year…I just don’t know what to say about that.

Apples are more effective at keeping people awake in the morning than coffee.

Bacteria increase from 1 to 1 billion in a petrel dish in 24 hours.

If the population of China walked past you in single file, the line would never end because of the rate of reproduction.

The most common name in the world is Mohammad.

The Catfish holds the record for most taste buds on a single tongue…Now really, what did the Catfish do to deserve such a horrible fate?  I mean, do you know what a catfish eat!?!  Granted, I’ve never tried the gunky green crap off the bottom of the pond, but I can’t say that it looks too tasty.

The average cow will poop 16 times a day…I’m particularly proud of remembering this one. 

I think I’ll end things on that note.  Comment if you like…

-J

Abraham Lincoln once said, "A woman is the only thing I'm afraid of that I know won't hurt me."  If you know anything about his wife, you'd probably understand why he said such a thing (of the many strange quirks she had, one story has her sleeping on her own side of the bed so his spirit could rest in its usual spot).  Now I don't want to say that I have as many problems as old Abe did, but things are getting tense.  As most of you know, I'm a CNA at the local hospital in town.  As of about a month ago, I'm the only male CNA in the whole hospital.  The only other guys are doctors, maintenance, and administrators - and no, we don't usually cross paths (I think they laugh at me for doing a “girl’s” job – one called me “mam” aarrggghh!!!). 

I've come to realize that at work, I'm now one of the girls (almost).  The other day one girl told me that her period was really heavy and that the cramps were driving her insane.  One pregnant woman discussed her sore boobs and diarrhea openly, asking for advice from all of the experienced ladies who happened to be standing at the nursing station (and they had plenty).  By the way, did you know that some women, while pregnant, will grow extra nipples?? - That’s the kind of stuff I'm talking about.... 

The only time I’m not “one of the girls” is when they’re complaining about men.  Then they’re more than happy to talk about how dumb, stupid, insensitive, mean, non-committal, smelly, and apelike, all men are at some point during any hour of the day.  Guys do suck – I’ve learned this much.  Once I tried to stand up for guys but found that the dirty looks and barrage of arguing I had to put up with just wasn’t worth it.  They were venting – not asking for my opinion.  A little thing I’ve learned about women:  They often speak in rhetorical questions.  They don’t want an answer…  I just keep my mouth shut and shout out a “you go girl!” once every few hours.  I usually cower in the corner, trying to look busy, praying for a resident to need the bathroom or something so I can leave with good reason. 

So, like I said, things are tense.  Work is good overall.  I’m getting hours like crazy.  I have a twelve hour shift tomorrow - 6p to 6a – and I think most of it is going to be overtime.  Whoo hoo.  A coworker said she’s going to lend me the first two seasons of ER on DVD, so I’ll have something to do while I’m not at work.  And I get paid on Wednesday.  It’s going to be a good week.  Talk to you all soon. 

Leave a comment!!

J

Okay, I have to apologize.  It has been a long time since my last update - but I have a good reason:  Finals.   While I could go on a long rant on how useless and detrimental to the learning process final exams really are....I wont.  It occurs to me that as much as I hate finals, I'm paying the school to give them to me.  *ahem*

So here I am in my very own apt.  This is the first time I have truly lived on my own.  I use to live in a small apt with five other guys.  We underwent the stresses of school and life together - eating together, cleaning, socializing, studying, and all of that.  I say "cleaning" because they were neat freaks who thought a dirty dish lying in the sink for more than five minutes might spur Ebola or something........they had good intentions, but a little over the top (and no, I don't care if they read this - we all had this discussion more than once).  Anyways, we were tight, and that was an environment I had to get use to.

Now I'm getting use to a different environment.  I'm in a bigger apartment with less (muuuuch less) stuff, much less noise, much less company, and a lot more time (school ended) to just sit around and think.  I spent the better part of last weekend with my family.  I love them all dearly, and had a great time with everyone....but spending time with the group of people I feel closest to, and then moving into a big lonely apt probably wasn't a good idea.  Besides the fact that the couple living here before me didn't really clean - I'm talking dirty bathroom and fridge - I like the apt as a whole.   It's perfect for me.  Here are a few things that have hit me though in the last week. 

1.  Did you know you have to BUY garbages?  This is AMERICA - come on!  I had the bags and everything, but found to my utter horror that there was nothing to put them in.  Right now I have a card-board box with a garbage bag sitting in it off to the side of the living room.  Can you say "classy"!?

2.  Moving in has made me realize that I have more crap than anyone should have at 22 years of age.  I am Erwin's grandson. 

3.  Cleaning supplies are fricking expensive.  Cleaning up someone else's bathroom nastiness is insult to injury. 

4.  Apparently NASA is in the business of making washers and driers.  Also, you pretty much have to have an engineering degree in order to get either one to work.  I did two whole loads yesterday before I realized that there's a special compartment for laundry detergent - I guess it dispenses the soap at an even rate for maxi blah blah blah.  When did the dump/pour method become unacceptable?  I'm out of the loop...

5.  This is the last one, and it's a biggie.  I don't have a microwave.  For those of you who read that last sentence quickly....read it again....I'll wait.  Besides the fact that I have like five total food items in my fridge (milk, leftovers, liquid taco seasoning that probably doesn't even need to be in there, apples, and I kid you not - a beer I found in the bottom of my suitcase from last August), and a whole lot of boxed stuff, I can hardly cook any of it.  Oatmeal on the range?  Reheat casserole in the oven??  Who do I look like - Julia Child? (anyone who has seen what Julia Child looks like can probably allow themselves a good evil chuckle right now....)  All kidding aside, I'm dying here.  I have a co-worker who was suposed to drop a used one by today.  I called and asked if she had it in her car, and she laughed (she laughed!) and said that she had forgotten it.  Would you laugh if you forgot to bring a bleeding man a band-aid?  Okay....enough on that.

Alright, this should hold all of you readers over.  I'll start updating again regularly.

- J

I had a new experience yesterday.  A friend of mine asked me to go tanning.  She said it would be free and painless.  It was definately free.

I don't want to go into it too much, but lets put it this way:  Most people, by the time they hit 22, have exposed their skin to some sun.  There's a leathering effect - a buildup of tough stin that defends the body against thos powerful UV rays.  The body is protected.

Now imagine, if you will, that there's a part of your body the sun has never touched.  There is no protection.  Nothing.  Go ahead and expose that skin. 

Like I said, it was definately free.

I'm writing this at the end of a very long day.  So far, I've worked Mon, Wed, Thur, Fri, and will work tomorrow (Sat).  While all of you with real jobs are probably thinking, "Ha!  Welcome to reality...", I have to admitt that I'm wiped.  I'm pulling 18 credits this semester, working about 35 hours a week (and STILL owe tuition), trying to get ready for finals, and pulling some volunteer hours with the kids here and there.  I need a 36 hour day.  This is probably my ignorance coming through, but I gotta tell ya - the day when I have to get a regular job is looking pretty sweet. 

Love

Okay, this is going to be a short post.  I'm taking a little study break from writing my philosophy mid-term.  I'm writing about fear  and how it pertains to environmentalism (things actually aren't as bad as you'd think they are...).  If it sounds like an interesting topic, read Michael Crichton's "State of Fear".  It kind of inspired me (okay, very much inspired me). 

I was really really bored the other day and decided to take a took a look at the Yahoo personal ads.  Now before you start to make up your little assumptions, I should say that I was NOT looking for a date...get your head out of the gutter.  All you have to do is type in your zip code and see who shows up from your area.  Then you point and lau....nevermind.  My friend Todd and I use to go on there to see if we could find anyone we knew. 

Well, this particular time, I was in luck.  I hit the jackpot.  I found somoene I know really really well.

Me

That's right folks:  Someone played a trick on me. They pulled my picture off of this blog, created an account, and gave out my real e-mail address (which means it's probably a classmate of mine).  I'll  never really know who did it even though I have the sneaking suspicion it's one of my roomates.  Can't they  just flush the toilet while I'm in the shower??  Come on!  My father's days of leaning garbage cans filled with water up against the RA's door are long over.  This is the techno age.   You can  now get emberassed in front of millions of people with the simple click of a mouse-pad.  That ad could be on there for years!  The person who created it was a sly one too:  They created a legitimate add.  Didn't try to make it over the top or say somthing emberassing.  Oh no - they made it look like I'm really a nice guy who desperately wants to find love. 

What's worse is that it's filed under the Dordt zip-code.  I know people who regularly check the personal adds hoping to find someone they know, hoping they can do exactly what I was trying to do - find someone to laugh at.  It's only a matter of time! I should also mention out of conscious that I probably deserve this.  We have a JUST God and I'm sure I'm up for somthing....

I don't know what's more sad:  1) That I'm on a personal add site or 2) that I haven't had any responses in the month I've been "available".  Now that's depressing... 

So, if you're the person who created the account - hahahahahahahahahaha - okay, it was funny.  Really, I laughed... I tip my hat to how much of a superior prankster you truly are.  I have been humbled.  Now please take it off.  If you don't, I swear I'll -------- do absolutely nothing.  You're the only one with the password to get into the account.

That being said, I'm back off to my term paper.  I Hope all of you who aren't responsbile for the personal ad get a good laugh out of it.  HA.........Ha............ha..........

Jason

 Something happened to me that I thought I'd share...

Yesterday, I had a pretty important meeting in the campus center with the director of summer housing.  I basically needed to check and make sure that I had a place to live from May - August.  I was in the lobby, flipping through a magazine when my name was called.  I walked into the room and "Mrs. Smith" gave a friendly hello, shaking my hand vigorously, showing me a seat.  That's when it occurred to me  that my zipper was wide open.  I'm not just saying it was down, but looked like I had purposely pulled it apart -  advertising my particular brand of underwear to the world.  By the way, my shorts were a light crème color, while my boxers were dark green - let's just say it stood out.  I broke into an immediate sweat.  

So there I was, halfway between sitting and standing, with a dilemma:  Do I pull the zipper up in one swift, and might I add, obvious motion (is there ANY way to hide that!?)? Or ignore it, pretending I don't see it, daring Mrs. Smith to say something.  I double dared her.  I sat, crossed my legs, realized I was making the hole worse, immediately uncrossed my legs, and just sat there like a gomer with, well, his zipper down.  The meeting went forward.  I'm pretty sure we talked about something, but all I could think about was the gapping visual black hole in my pants - sucking my very eyes out of their sockets, making them look.  At that point, the initial option of pulling the zipper up from thirty seconds earlier was looking pretty sweet, but that was all in the past.  

That's when I realized with a wave of relief that she probably hadn't seen anything.  Mrs. Smith was keeping great eye contact!  She was looking at me when she talked.  Maybe it hadn't been that bad when I walked in?  Maybe she had already checked out my clothes and decided she didn't need to see anymore!?  Hallelujah for good communication skills!!!  I looked right back at her.  I even smiled, chuckling to myself, wondering what I had been so worried about.

And that's when her eyes started to wander.  She looked at the desk.  He gaze moved to the clock.  And then it happened - she checked out my clothing.  Now most people just glance at a person's clothing, knowing it isn't polite to stare.  I'm sure Mrs. Smith was polite, but it seemed like an eternity to me.  I could tell she was starting with my shirt, and then she gazed downward, still talking.  Her eyes stopped.  She looked puzzled, wondering what in the world was going on down there....her eyes widened.  She knew.  I knew.  But did she know that I knew she knew?  The room was silent. 

I panicked.  "So, uhhh.....which building did you say I was going to be living in?!" 

She cleared her throat.  "Ummm....probably building B....NO!, building D.  Definitely building D."

At this point I didn't care if she said I was assigned to the cardboard box sitting outside the science building.  I needed to get out of that office.  I said I didn't have anymore questions and that I would get back to her if I thought of anything.  I got up to shake her hand, but figured we had been intimate enough for one day.  A half hour meeting was over in a solid seven minutes.  I shuffled out of the room, looking for a place to die.  I was halfway out the door when I heard it.

"Jason!"

I stopped, but didn't dare turn around.  ".....Yeah?"

"Third door on your right" 

I walked down the hall and into the bathroom, the third door on the right. 

This story is true.  It happened.  If you don't believe me, come visit.  I'm still blushing.

The last few days have been pretty interesting.   I'm technically single again, I've pulled a few all nighters, and life is pretty much one big blurr.  I'm sitting in philosopohy right now (Aesthetics - the philososphy of beauty) and the prof. is talking about who knows what.  Somthing about whether or not it's innapropriate to show Christ in art.  Whether or not it's technically idolitry...  Personally, (and I know this is a complicated issue) I think that if you watch The Passion and actually find yourself worshiping the tv, then you have bigger faith issues than just those covered by the second commandment.  My own church makes me kind of upset on the issue.  We don't really have any art up, but found time and money to put a permanent basketball hoop inside of the chuch.  Okay, I'm going to stop before I get carried away....

The all nighters are what's really kickin my butt right now.  I wish I could say that I have a good reason for not going to sleep, but I don't.  I'm not up doing homework.  I'm not up crying over anything, or talking on the phone.  I just plain lay awake at night, staring at the bunk above me, waiting for sleep to come.  When 3 am finally hits I get up, get a drink of water, and turn the tv/computer on.  I'd do homework or somthing of value, but I'm just tired enough that I can't focus.  It's incredibly frustrating.  I'm wide awake until about 8 am when it makes no sense to go to bed.  If I do, I'll probably sleep through the day (and all of my classes), and then find myself even more screwed that next night when it's time to sleep again.  It's a vicious cycle.  The only way I've found I can stop that cycle is to stay awake all day and collapse somtime around 8 pm and sleep all throughout the night.  Anyone out there know how miserable it is to regularly go 30-40 hours without sleep?  You're pretty much worthless all day.  You're tired, cranky, can't think straight, and pretty much waste away.  It's a pretty torid existence.  I woke up this morning after getting about 12 hours of sleep. 

So what am I up to for the rest of the day?  Well, I gotta tell ya, it's not too exciting.  I have class until 4:15, and then I'm responsible for cooking for the entire apartment tonight.  I 'm making spaghetti (I've perfected it by now).  After that, I'm reading "Modern Art and the Death of a Culture".  It's a philosophy book written by the Dutch philosopher Rookmaaker.  It's basically about how Christians should relate to modern art.  It's exactly as exciting as it sounds.  Call me, help me procrastinate....please.

Well, class is getting over, so I had better log off.  Hope everyone is doing well.  Love you all.

Jason

Somtime around last Christmas, I came to a realization: I'm getting fat.  I don't mean really really fat, but definately not in shape.  I was getting soft.  My face was getting a little more pudgy.  I broke a sweat running up the stairs.  The amazing thing wasn't that I had gained weight, but rather, how it had just sort of happened without me realizing it.  It was like I had blinked and all of a sudden found myself over 180 lbs.  I really had "let myself go".  Disgusted, a couple of weeks later I made a New Years resolution to get into shape.

So here I am, four months later, and doing okay.  I've lost twelve pounds since January.  While that may not seem substantial, it's fat loss vs. muscle gain.  I go running, stair stepping, and hit the weight room 2-3 times a week.  I can easily say that I'm in the best shape I've been in since high school.  I should probably mention that getting into my "high school shape" is probably impossible.  I was kind of a freak back then when it came to physical stuff.  I ran varsity x-country and played varsity soccer, all without a single day of training or weight lifting.  I sat on my butt during the off seasons and just kind of showed up for the first day of practice.  I guess there was this natural ability that I'm only now starting to appreciate.  I can remember my friend Todd going to the weight room every day during the summer, and then gettin pissed because my arms were still bigger than his.  All I lifted was the occasion can of pop to my lips.  I still have a decent build, but nowhere near what I had a few years ago. 

Going to the gym sucks though.  I can't put my finger on it, but there seems to be this pressure to look good while you work out.  The kid next to me looks like he LIVES in the gym - I'm guessing there's a sleeping bag in the closet and that he lives off the vending machines.  I can almost hear him snickering as I readjust the weight on the machines to a mere mortal amount, all the while he's sitting there "resting" (which I'm sure he's faking so he can watch me futily try and move a stupid weight from one spot to another and back again).  It must feel nice to watch someone and know that you are superior in every way.  There are girls everywhere and hanging mirrors that somehow allow me to see my butt from about six different angles.  And this is before you even start lifting.  That part is another joy.  Have you seen the face you make when you try to max out?  There are a lot of words I could use to describe it, but "sexy" definately isn't one of them.  I have an mp3 player for when I work out, so about every four minutes I get funny looks and remember that it's NOT a good idea to sing out loud.  I work pretty hard, so I get all sweaty and nasty.  The other day I was pleased to find out that the gym supplied towells for those who work out, and grabbed one.  I started rubbing the sweat off my face, only to realize with just a little bit horror, that I had in fact grabbed a towell out of the "used" bin.  I was wondering why it was moist... 

Being in shape is great.  I finally felt that "runner's high" again - somthing that hadn't happen in so long that I was kind of wondering if it had just been a wonderful dream from way back when.  I feel good.  I sleep better.  I'm eating better.  I study better - I remember more (which I've looked into, and is scientifit fact.  People who work out remember more).  My color is better, and I look darn good getting out of the shower now.  I'm a pretty happy guy. 

By the way, I have to give props to girls.  It seems that they live about eight times more healthy than guys.  About 80% of the people I see in the gym are women.  That being said, it's easy to see why most guys who aren't already in great shape would avoid such a place.  It's kind of emberassing to get outlifted by a girl (not that that happens....)   Regardless of the sore muscles, the emberassing faces, the time, and the emberassment that somtimes follows, I will continue to get into shape.  Wish me luck.

Jason

It's spring and love is in the air.  Here at Dordt college, everyone seems to be getting engaged or married.  I've been envited to at least four weddings for this summer, and have been notified of almost a dozen engagements.  So in the spirit of things, I have an announcement.  As most of you know, I've been in a serious relationship for almost two years now...and with that, I'd like to announce my engagement to Ren.......just kidding. 

But itseriously...  Here at Dordt, people start to "wonder about you" if you're in your early twenties and not seriously dating/engaged/married.  Unless you have a hunch-back, or somthing equally handicapping in the dating world, you should always been looking for that special someone.   It's just a cultural thing.  It's also a pretty scary thing.  The pressure to get married at a young age leaves one desperate - terrified of losing the first person who comes along - wondering if anyone else would ever be interested.  I think 's especially hard on girls - I don't know why.   I mentioned one day in passing that the average American doesn't get married until 27 - the looks I got were those of amazement.

I was thinking about it, and I'm a completely different person at 22 then I was at 18.  At 18 I was in high school, stocking shelves at Target, playing soccer (and in the best shape of my life...sigh), still living at home, and utterly selfish - thinking of nobody but myself.  I didn't think anything outside of me mattered.  I was a special someone, and thinking I could spend the rest of my life with her.  I shudder when I think about being stuck with that woman for another 60-80 years.  That fact in itself proves another thing:  My tastes in women have changed significantly in the last four years.  People grow an incredible amount in the span of time that is college, and I think it's pretty unlikely that two people, male and female, will grow at the exact same rate and in the exact same way.  I know people grow at other points in their lives (marriage after all is about giving and compromise), but I can't imagine it's in a more radical way than when you're trying to define yourself by education, carreer, faith, and everything else you do in college.  At 18-20, you don't even know yourself.  I can't imagine knowing someone else well enough to marry them.  I'm not saying people who get married young are stupid or not in love.  I'm saying that they might have trouble staying in love after they get done trying to define themselves as adults over the next few years. 

Okay....there's my little rant.  It wasn't directed at or about anyone.  Just somthing that's been running in and out of my head.

As I sit here, I'm probably having the worst case of writer's block of my entire life.  I've come to the conclusion that a blank piece of paper can be a truly terrifying thing.  It's just sitting there, daring me to prove how dumb I am, sizing me up against every writer in history, laughing at me.  Any yet, there's somthing else.....

See, a few hours ago I was awarded 1st place in the Purple Martin WRITING contest.  I was given a check for $100 dollars and got to read the piece in front of 80 of my fellow students and professors.  In the last hour I've even recieved a couple of e-mails congratulating me on the piece - telling me how much they were moved by it's words. 

Understand what I'm saying here:  I just won a writing contest, and I can't write apaper for my life.  Like I said, the blank sheet of paper is laughing at me...  Irony can be a real bitch. 

Jason