Life. A General Update.

I'm still going to school. Columbia Bible College, to be precise. This semester I am taking:
Biblical Preaching
New Testament Theology
Timothy and Titus
Rock, Faith, and Pop Culture
Environmental Issues.

This semester I learned how to create a "sermonic sentence" by reducing a biblical text to one key idea the author was trying to get across. I also am going to learn how to teach for 35 minutes a biblical text to a class. I learned about liberal scholars, and their views on the divinity of Christ. I listened to music from the 50's, 60's, and 70's, including The Who and Pink Floyd. I learned that "environmental" has an 'n' before the 'm'.

I am still dating Lori Kuepfer. She just got back from a week long (10 days..?) trip to New Mexico to go caving with the Outdoor Leadership program. She had an excellent time and a wonderful adventure. Coming back the wheel on their van/bus fell off and her return was delayed, which saddened me and her as well. We wished to be reunited. It is odd when you become so used to someone being there that you're life completely changes when they're not. I was single again for a number of days, which was an odd sensation. Lori really didn't like it. This summer is going to be interesting.

This one time, I wrote a blog where I bolded certain words, and italics others. If you read just the bold words, they spell a sentence. If you read just the italics, they spell another sentence. I thought it was quite brilliant, and I hoped someone would catch on. They didn't. It is a lot of work, and I gave up on doing it more than once, but it may come again some day.

This weekend I will be taking Lori back to my house in Kelowna for the first and last time. My parents just sold the place, and are going to be making an offer on a house in Summerland. They'll be moving sometime in May. I won't be back in Kelowna after this weekend. That's an odd sensation, but one that is so far distant that it is merely a tickle on the back of my brain. It is not yet real, and it won't be until I see the new house, live in it, and a significant period of time elapses. Then, perhaps, I will recognize that the room I grew up in is now inspiring a younger generation. The tree I climbed will have smaller hands on its branches, and the driveway I walked will welcome new shoes. So this weekend I'm going to show Lori who I was, for years. Perhaps that will help her understand who I am now, and who I will become. I will show her my elementary school, and where my friends used to live. I will show her my former place of employment, and my high school. I will introduce her to my friends, and she will become a part of my past, in the hopes that she will continue to be a part of my future.

This summer I'm hoping to enroll in "Suicide Hebrew"; six credits in six weeks. I hope to fly to Ontario to visit Lori. I hope to work at Camp Qwanoes on Vancouver Island. I hope to live my life with integrity. I hope to finish this semester strong. I hope to return to CBC refreshed, full of questions about how my summertime ministry interacted with the theology taught by my professors in blank rooms. I hope that I will earn enough money to be able to afford to eat next year. Next month. Next week. I hope I blog more often, I hope I get more work done, and I hope I stop staying up so late at night, because I'm so tired in the morning. I hope I start enacting the changes I've wanted to see done for so long now. I hope I stop being so lazy. I hope I can break the addiction to CounterStrike, even though I love it dearly.

The Sickness

My mind does weird things when I'm sick. I think it has something to do with the temperature of my overall body and how it's so much higher than it ought to be for normal healthy human standards. So when I sleep at night, I have crazy dreams, that don't necessarily stop when I wake up.

Last night, among other things, I dreamed that I was playing a game that I used to play a lot, Counter-Strike, except I actually was the first person character. I was winning, absolutely destroying the competition time and time again, to the point where one guy on the other team took a particular disliking to me and decided to hunt me down every round. He never got me though, and I kept stealing his gun from him. Then my brother in law was on the other team and I kept shooting him and trying to stab his head but he wouldn't die.

When I woke up I wasn't sure if I was still playing or not; or if I had to go pee or not; or if I wanted to get out of bed at all.

The scariest thing was deciding that no, I wasn't going to get out of bed and then finding myself wandering around the living room for no particular purpose, not at all remembering getting out of bed.

I also dreamed of playing my bass and of Lori, and I prayed a lot though I don't remember why or what.

I do remember sitting on the toilet at one point, fully aware that this was one of the worst nights in my life, perhaps second to that time I puked 13 times, though for some reason that ended up being fun near the end.

Being sick sucks. I had to cancel on playing bass for chapel today, had to call in a favor from a friend to take my place, have to wait and see if I'm going to class (probably not), have to wait for my dad to show up though he's supposed to be here 30 minutes ago, makes me wonder if the buzzer is not working again, etc.

I don't know why I'm writing this or what I've writing, my head hurts. G'night.

Egotistic Labor

I must admit, the most recent reaction to my blog has been swelling my already engorged ego. It causes a pleasant rush of endorphins to have nine comments (four of which are fake) in reply to my paltry thoughts. Surely, I say to myself, I am an important person.

Today I spent the majority of my time steam cleaning. I cleaned the carpets of my college's Columbia Hall, the local residence for female students. I will not lie, it is weird to be in their place of residence, normally locked down with key, pass card, and numberpad to prevent the atrocious and overbearing attacks of male pubescent boys. The spring air brings not aromatic wisps of love, it seems, but rape hangs heavy. Except for between 12 and 8 every other Sunday, where the gates are temporarily opened to the unsuspecting masses and where chemistry and biology are closely monitored. Yet here I am, walking freely amongst the skeletons and tumbleweed of an otherwise unoccupied citadel of death.

So the process of steam cleaning, as it was explained to me, is "not hard". He certainly wasn't lying. What he forgot to mention, however, was that this process not only involves what is, essentially, a wet vacuum, but that it inadvertently also sucks my soul. The high pitched whine of the two, count them, two vacuum engines is combined with the dull low roar of the spray pump. This enveloping sonority reaches through my oral canal to effectively disassemble my humanity. Beyond that, the motion of this banausic task has become a 50's film projector, complete with scarred and tearing frames, looping endlessly the seven seconds it takes to steam clean one three foot line of blue carpet. This archaic visual aid plays from behind my eyes, the clatter of the reels drumming through my skull, flashing its nightmare onto the back of my eyelids.

I must get to bed, I have to steam clean some more carpet tomorrow.

By the way, my thesaurus has become my new Bible. I read it more often.

To Say A Goodbye

So I haven't been blogging much recently. As discovered the other night by those who ask, I usually only feel the urge to write when I feel tired, lonely, or depressed. It is safe to say that I have not felt such things for quite some time now. For me, the tantalizing emotional state of utter pain and sorrow becomes my askesis to initiate the writing process. Like Jonah in the whale, I am forced to spend endless amounts of time contemplating all that is meaningless and lost.

However, thirty three days ago I was made privy to the continual company of one Lori Kuepfer, ex-Amish, current "qt_pie", Outdoor Leadership, God-rockin' babe in who's presence my fears and depression shudder. They flee, taking with them common sense and my manhood. I would now best describe myself as a little school girl, complete with plaid skirt and knee high socks, giddy for the chance to learn enough English to comprehend the Power Puff girls.

These past few weeks have been hard weeks, as final projects and final exams have arisen together to unite against my anti-stress devices. It was a long and drawn out, arduous battle that climaxed yesterday with two difficult finals who's end result could only be comparable with that of the first time I attempted to make Kraft's Dinner, who really should make his own. Edible, digestible, and given the circumstances passable, but certainly not pretty, and most assuredly not tasty.

Kindly note the mention of circumstance, in many other dimensions known as laughable excuses. The night previous (Wednesday) was the last night I was going to see the aforementioned Lori, and it was this same night that her brother was to be sleeping on my couch, beginning at 11PM, the prime studying hour for all of us that wish to merely cram short-term notes into our minds seconds before they expire in order to convincingly fool the professor who so desperately wishes to see our hearts and minds changed. Of course that information was not made known to me until approximately 11:15PM, when I returned from walking Lori to her house, where I picked up Arlan, her brother's things for the next morning.

One might ask why he, the brother, did not accompany us to her place of dwelling, but surely that question could be answered by anyone who's seen two love-sick rabbits scurrying from prying flashlights beneath the bushes. One may be curious, but one does not wish to interfere. As we've only been dating for almost five weeks, a three week separation seems to have no less than the word catastrophe stamped impressionably upon it. We walked slowly, gracefully, solemnly, through the dimly lit parking lot. We were hushed by the inevitable. We reached her door, I stepped inside briefly so that I might take up information for the contact procedures to be undertaken while this forced separation must occur. We spoke in timid, haltering tones, convincing ourselves that surely this would not be as long as it is perceived. I opened the door to leave, she followed me halfway out. I stood in the cold, dark, and windy night, feeling the rain hit the cement sidewalk behind me. She stood upon the frame of the door, two inches closer to my chin that usual. Standing close together, breaching the separation from interior to exterior, she rested her head upon my chest, her eyes downcast. I kissed the top of her hair and sighed softly. We murmured unrepeatable loveliness, and I stepped back and away, into the night. Six steps away from her door the urban hardened ground turns sharply away from her sight, and I step into the dark.

I pause, call out to Lori, and go back and get her brother's dufflebag which I forgot. This time when I leave, it isn't as epic.

But I'm still sad.

CBC Talent Show Techno Workout of Mansome Men

CBC Talent Show

Be in awe.

The Girl

So I alluded to a girl a few posts back. Relationally-wise-ish. So here's the deal. I have a girlfriend. For the first time in my life, I have a girlfriend. I'm a boyfriend. I'm someone's boyfriend. Weird. I'm not single. I'm "taken". If you can't tell, this is odd for me. I'm not used to being anything other than single and sometimes looking. I'm not anymore. I'm done looking. I have found. Waldo would be proud.


Two days ago I asked her if she would like to be my girlfriend. Almost immediately she lept into my arms, her body weight causing me to fall backwards onto the ground (I was not physically injured, dear reader, as I was already sitting). Eventually she also said "yes", which I had assumed given the reaction.

This comes after three weeks of the awkward "i-know-you're-interested-but-we-just-really-met-so-lets-not-date-just-yet" phase. Ah, what good times. So yeah. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'm too in shock to think of what to say.

Suddenly I Feel Grown Up

The last seven days have been exceedingly interesting ones. There have been large decisions that I have made that will affect what's going to happen over the next weeks, months, maybe even years of my life. They come in two varieties.

The first is work related. I've been working at CBC as the "Parking Attendant", meaning that two or three times a week I check the Visitor parking lot to make sure students aren't parking there. Technically, there's a bit more to the process, but that's essentially it. It amounts to 1-1.5 hours of work per week, at minimum wage. Alright! That's a potential earning of $32 a month! Anyways, I could find a way to make more work for myself there, but I don't see the point and simply don't have the motivation.

Closer to the beginning of the year I was hanging out with some new friends. One of them, Ashley Harrison, picked up on the fact that I was pseudo looking for work. She told me to apply at one of her places of business, Linens and Things. I told her to get me an application. I figured I would throw a resume at them, more for entertainment purposes than actually desiring to work with a bunch of middle-aged women folding sheets. On Wednesday Ashley finally got around to getting me an application. I had some time, so I filled it out, whipped off a resume and went to hand it in. I gave it to one of their managers there, Ed. I was expecting him to take my application and then tell me that they'd call if they were interested. Instead, he told me to come in the next day for an interview with their Human Resource manager, Bob. Ed and Bob. Great manager names.

So Thursday I went in for an interview. This guy wasn't even aware of the fact that there was going to be an interview. He was confused. He then couldn't find my resume, and had to ask a bunch of people where Ed might've put it, found Ed, found the resume, the interview began. I was thinking "gong show" in my head the whole time. Clearly this guy wasn't in a hiring mood. Then the interview began. Quite frankly, the guy was all over me. Not sexually, as one person suggested when I mentioned such, but he sure wanted me to work there. They needed "more men" (not to be sexiest, he said, "but, yeah...") to work at Linens and Things, specifically in the back unloading trucks, playing with boxes, climbing stuff, moving stuff, etc. The general "be-a-man-in-a-woman's-store" type-biz. He kept describing how great a workplace it was, how fun it was to work there, and the great people that work there. Then he said if I liked how it sounded, the job was mine. So I took it.

I start Tuesday. I work at "Linens & Things". I am such a man.

In other news, last Saturday I spent the day with a girl. Her name is Lori. She's a first-year (yeah yeah, boo me all you want, she's 21. A year OLDER than me!) at CBC, in the OL program. I told her I liked her. She told me she liked me. It was awesome.

So yeah. Stuff's happening, and it's neat, and exciting, and now I have to be old and repsonsible and like, do stuff right. Properly. It's weird. I like it.

Whee! /schoolgirl

Another Checkbox Marked Off

The other night I had a great idea. It was rainy and gross outside, about 8 or 9 in the evening, and I wanted to go puddle jumping. My roommate Ben was quickly behind the idea, and our friend Lori was eventually convinced. Her brother was visiting for the weekend (sweetest kid EVER) and he decided to come along as well. So we got changed into our trashy clothes and ran around in the rain, dancing in puddles and kicking water at each other. We found a grassy section of puddles, and proceeded to dive headfirst into them, splashing and sliding for many meters of goodness glory. We also wrestled on the field, trying to get as many grass stains as possible. I was hoping for blood, but alas, we failed.

We also ran to the nearby library, where they have more grass (glee!) as well as a fountain of sweet goodness. We engaged in such bleached, chlorinated water, completely soaking our fully clothed bodies in it's sickeningly cold goodness. It was awesome.

We then stood around and tried to pee ourselves. Lori did first, for which I am still jealous. I, however, peed the most, making it so that it could be visibly seen dripping from my pant leg into my shoe.

Checkmark.

Checkmark That Off My List

I have a theory. I believe that every man needs to do a certain number of things before he dies. If he dies without doing such things, he has not lived a full life. Some of these things are normative, like having sex and peeing off a cliff. Others are.. interesting. Like shaving certain segments of body hair, or running naked through a field being chased by your choice of farm animal.

I completed one of the things that I've always wanted to do before I die last weekend. I hit on a girl in a bar.

And now we might go salsa dancing. Her name is Carolyn, and damn was she fine.

Blog of the Month

What a great thanksgiving.

I had three thanksgiving dinners. One with my immediate family, one with the extended family, and one with a prof's family and some random friends from CBC. The first one, with my immediate family, was kind of rushed. I had to leave after dinner to attend a birthday party (which was also awesome, but I'll get there). I got there around 5, and the whole apartment was SO warm. It was already a warm day, so add to that a few hours of a turkey in the oven and you've got one HOT apartment. The day was just beginning to cool off, so I went out onto the porch to get some fresh air. As soon as I began to walk back towards the sliding door opening, I could feel a heat wave rushing out into the darkening night. It was intense. This was Laura (my sister's) first thanksgiving meal that SHE had cooked, so it was an epic milestone. It tasted just fine. And by fine I mean damn tasty. We also had wine with our meal, which is a rarity around my family. I ended up mixing it with this sweet fruit punch stuff and then it was REALLY tasty and even my mom liked it.

The second thanksgiving was our classic Klassen-family meal. This meant we all gathered at my Oma's apartment (tiny place). We waited for everyone to show up, and 5 minutes before they're supposed to arrive my Oma would start pacing and muttering how they're late and she hopes they remembered and are alive. Eventually everyone would show up (gasp.) and the feasting would begin. We'd sit around a table with far too much food on it, and we'd sit there until it was all gone. We'd all take the first portion, and then seconds and more until the bowls and plates were empty. We'd clap and cheer as we finished off one bowl, only to see my Oma go into the kitchen and refill it. There's always too much food at my Oma's place. Eventually we'd all be groaning in pain, and that's when the desert comes out. Then we sit there and eat that until we feel sickeningly full. Then we eat more. This year we had a lot of red, potentially stain-worthy edible products. Blueberry juice, cranberry juice, cranberries, and the salad had a red dressing on it. In the end, the salad was the worst because the dressing would spritz off the crunching lettuce onto the white tablecloth, and to the detriment of my cousin, her pants.

The third thanksgiving was at Gareth Brandt's house - a prof from CBC. Apparently he had made an open invitation to Thanksgiving at his house in one of his classes and my roommate had quickly accepted. Upon hearing such news, I decided to tag along for the fun and free food. It was a classic American-esque thanksgiving. We hung out with his family for a few hours in the afternoon before the eating began. We played football in the nearby field before the meal, as well as grounders on the playground. I ended up breaking skin on my left elbow, which allowed blood to be spilled before the food was even in sight. It was awesome. The food was excellent, the pie afterwards was splendid, and we hiked up their mountain after we were stuffed. After that we roasted some marshmallows in their backyard and laughed as Lori (1st year OL) reenacted Jim Carrey lines for our amusement. It was awesome.

Perogies are ready. A blog for the birthday party will later ensue.

Alright Blog, You and Me...

I haven't been blogging lately. This is due to a number of factors, such as:
1) Moving from my home, Kelowna, back to school, Abbotsford
2) Not having the internet (which has thus been re-established)
3) Not having anything worth saying (fear of the intellectually powerful blogs)
4) Laziness

This, then, is an update of what has happened recently.

School

Columbia Bible College is back in action. I'm living off campus this year, which is a massive change. I still live very close to the school, but it's still very different. The main reason is that I don't eat my meals in the cafeteria anymore. This has saved my wallet and my waist from serious trauma, but as a sacrifice my social life has petered out. Meals times are social times, where you get to meet all the new students, learn about each other, laugh, and eat. Now I return to my apartment and cook myself something delicious - though alone. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

I am a third year after all. I already have all the friends I need.

Oh.

Snap.

...

Sigh.

Classes are mostly good. I dislike tangents from teachers that demand respect, so I'm not a huge fan of Intro to Christian Ministries. I also don't like profs that can't pace themselves properly, or don't have interesting material, so OT Theology is a bit of a drag. My other three though, Classics in Religious Lit, English Lit, and Church History are all awesome. I should be studying for my Church History quiz which is in 23 minutes, but I decided to do this instead.

Work

I've been trying to get a job here. Not really trying but more of an amusing side task when I've finished watching too many episodes of Buffy - The Vampire Slayer. Which, by the way, is awesome. I love the irony, the writing, the characters... so good. I did, however, apply at the school for a "whatever-they-give-me" type job. I didn't get one at first, but after repeated inquiries, I get to monitor the parking lot. That's right CBC students, park properly and with a pass, or else I'll slap a $35 fine on your windshield. I believe I start Monday. It's only a few hours a week, like, an hour a day type thing, but it'll be enough to pay for a bill or two. And really, that's all I'm asking for.

Love

No comment.

Music

I didn't make the Vespers team this year, mainly because CBC axed our former traveling worship band, Souled Out. Thus the available music ministries shortened, letting Steve Kim (resident bass-pro-expert) take the top spot. It's one of those things I can't be shamed by. Steve Kim is an amazing bass player/man of sexiness, and I'm alright with him being awesome. I'm on a chapel team, instead. This is the least involved I've been at CBC since I began. Even my first year I was on two chapel teams, and now it's only one. Oh well, more time to watch Buffy!

In Conclusion

I like kittens.

Ubuntu Linux

Ah, the beauty of Linux.

So the past few days have been stressful, to say the least. My computer was giving me a headache and a half. It would alternate between not being able to connect to my latest favorite game, WoW, and randomly crashing in the midst of a game, program, idle, etc. It would hang, the sound annoyingly repeating itself, etc, etc. I went through a few weeks of half hearted attempts to get the problems resolved, to no avail. Finally, I decided that I would format my computer. I backed up the files I deemed necessary, waited a few days to make sure I was making the right decision, and then on Thursday morning (my day off, 1 of 2) I formatted my computer. I had the option to install partions onto my HD (sectioning off one section of the Hard Drive from the other), so I did. I wanted to do this so that I could, at a later date, either use the seperate partion simply for storage data (.mp3s, .avis, etc) OR use it to install Linux.

I installed Windows XP after formating (bye bye 10GB of music! Seeya 30GB of movies/tv shows!), booted it up, and BLAM. Windows has detected a virus on your computer. Windows has detected malicous software.

Already? (i thought to my self) I JUST turned it on!

Oh glory, the security flaws of Windows and IE, and the preconfigured package of Java that comes installed with Windows XP, etc.

I'll spare you the gory details, but over the next 38 hours I ran back and forth from my computer, to our home computer, to my mother's work computer, passing floppies and CDs (some old, some newly burnt) full of updates I couldn't download direct onto my computer (because of the virus/spyware/etc) in an attempt to get it up and running. Within that space I was also forced to REFORMAT my computer yet again (deleting PART of the virus, but not all), reinstalling Windows XP again (this time without an internet connection, and having a CD full of useful anti-spyware/firewall/anti-virus protection programs, though, outdated, as well as Service Pack 2 for Windows XP, etc, etc) and losing the partion that I had made earlier. FINALLY after that time I had a working copy of Windows XP, with absolutely nothing on it but anti-everything software. The most annoying part was trying to get Windows to update, which it wouldn't for whatever reason. It takes FOREVER for the windows site to determine that a) I have the software necessary to download updates, and b) which updates I need, after which it'll either tell me that it won't download, or after I got it to download, that it won't install.

In the next two hours I downloaded Ubuntu, a Linux distribution, burned it to a CD, installed it on my computer using it's default settings (which automatically repartitioned my drive WITHOUT harming XP), and updated it completely. It is now chock-full of every sort of software that I need. Instant Messanging (combining AIM/YIM/MSN/ICQ/IRC/etc), Photo editing, Word processing, Internet Surfing, Email, etc, etc, etc. If I need anything else there's a handy "Add/Remove" selection which lets me PICK from well over 200 different applications that I might want, which it'll download and install automatically for me.

I did all of this while watching Sin City. Movie length: 1 hour 58 minutes. I sometimes paused it while I hit "next" on the setup screens.

This is what Ubuntu looks like:

LINK

It's beautiful. Smooth, fast, secure, easy to work with. The only problem is that it isn't supported by as many developers as Microsoft, so I can't play most games without a bit of work. But I may be willing to put that work in. I love Linux.

So that's what I've done over the last few days. Thursday and Friday - installing Windows XP. Friday night, watching Sin City and install Ubuntu. Saturday, work, come home and install WoW on XP, then surf the internet with Linux. Hurray for a dual boot system. Computer geeks, eat your heart out.

The Countdown

So many countdowns have begun.

I've begun counting down the days until I'm done at Costco. So are all my seasonal co-workers. Most of them gave notice awhile ago, so they're done in a few days. I've got 12 days left. I have tomorrow off, as well as three days next week (should I chose to accept all those days off, and not ask for more shifts). That makes only 6 more days of work that I have to attend. That's not very much at all. 40ish hours. Over two weeks. I'm ready to be done there.

It's been a good time at Costco, and all that. I'm just ready to go back to school. Well, not _ready_. I haven't done the customary school supply shopping, buying lined paper, pens, and all that. I also don't remember which classes I'm taking, if I'm going to be working a part time job, rockin' StuCo, Collegium host, or what. Too many decisions, too much fever.

I've also been counting down the cost of apartment, food, school, etc. Trying to figure out how much I need to save, how much I need to work if I don't save enough, the timeline of the financial situation. How much debt I am already in, how much I want to be when I graduate, and how I get from point A to point B.

Raych has been counting down the days until she comes back to Canada. I want to know if it's financially possible for me to leave Canada.

I'm sick of this continent. I've heard too many stories of too many different places for me to not be fascinated and interested. I want to travel with nothing but a bag and a desire to keep moving. Beyond that, I don't care. Europe, Australia, South America, or eastern states. Don't care. I just want to move. I'm tired of staying put.

Too many thoughts, not enough time. I've sat here all day waiting for the WoW 1.12 patch to come through, and work. They really ought to restart my server. I want to hit up the BG. Cross-realm means less wait time for pure pwnage. Let's rock this roast tonight, aight?

w0rd.

Seriously I need to get out of here. It's driving me crazy. I want a hotdog. Mmm.. hot dogs.

Roadtrip

So, I went to church this morning to play bass. I got a decent amount of sleep last night, no complaints, just a little tired at 8am. Understandable, I've been assured. I had made a call the night before, to the lead worship guy, Jon, and his wife, Sharla, wondering if they were free after church to go to the beach or something. It was my day off, Sunday, so I wanted to do something other than sit here, out of the sun. They, sadly, informed me that they already had plans for that fine Sunday afternoon. They were going tenting at some former church member's RV campground.

They invited me along, but I was working the next day, so that would have been a bad decision.




Until I said I'd just come for the day, and drive home in the evening. Then that sounded like a great idea, so two more guys decided to come with. One double stacked burger, one sandwhich, one quick pack job and a dirty vehicle later, we're ready to go.




So we toss the stuff in the back of the very, very warm white leather interior car, and attempt to enter. We then are forced into a retreat by the scorching nature of black leather left in the sun for a few weeks. An improvised "towel" system is put into place, and we're off. The 2-2.5 hour drive begins.


We get to Winfield and decide to stop and buy some gas. My impulse purchase was an 8-pack of coke. We were thirsty, it was 2.99 (plus applicable taxes), and 8-packs are just way cooler than 6-packs or a couple of 1L bottles. Seriously. Way cooler. James paid for the gas, I paid for the coke. I figured it was a good deal.

The drive is beautiful.

I enjoyed the scenery. I used to work at a camp out near Salmon Arm (the area we were headed to), so I was very used to the drive. James was driving, so I could just sit back and enjoy the lakes and mountains as they peeled by.

We get lost, go driving down a wrong road that we knew was wrong for quite some time, and eventually James had to pee so we pulled over as the "No Thru Road" loomed behind us. Being pulled over already, we decided turning around was also a good idea. While James was peeing I got this video recorded.



Anyways, we got there, played some beach volleyball for awhile, which I am less than amazing at, but it's super fun so who cares. Eventually we decide to go boating, which is always fun. On the way out Josh (Jon's brother) and I were riding in the very front of the boat, so we were being tossed about. Meanwhile, none of us had much faith in our driver, as she constantly muttered/yelled/frantically screamed at the various other boats out in the water. Not faith-inspiring, to say the least. Anyways, we stopped, eventually got everyone into the rather cold water, and then eventually drove back cold and tired. It was pretty much awesome, of course.

We returned to the campground, the few staying over set up their tents. We got some greasy food from the gas station. Apparently I was "6.99" hungry. The grease marks on the box actually came from my hands, not the crazy ladies serving me. Yes, I did flirt with them. No, I did not get extra fries. Such wasted energy. James was almost "9.49" hungry, not including the upgraded coleslaw. I ate what fries he did not. As well as Rebecca's extra fries. Such expensive deep fried food.



And then we drove home, changed, and I came back to my home. Where I wrote this blog while talking on MSN to Kelsey, with whom I have been discussing the merits of musicals and Zero 7. Excellent.

To bed, dear friends, to bed.

Costco Can Be Amusing

I got to work today, figured it'd be another boring day. And except for a few minutes, it was.

I packed groceries for Ryan Smith today. Yeah, he was signing autographs and stuff. Most of the people in the line before and after him didn't know him, or recognize him. One lady thought he was from the Kelowna Falcons, our local rather trashy baseball club. Yeah. He's not.

He thought I was going to put his gatorade into boxes. Silly Ryan Smith. So very silly indeed. Poor guy, just wants to get some groceries, and everyone is kissing his sandals and whatnot.

Oh well.

Jerome Iginla comes to our church and I pack groceries for Ryan Smith. Oh, the joys of living in Kelowna.

On Beyond Zebra

Dr. Seuss was brilliant.

Anyways, so I've been thining about what I'm going to do after I graduate from CBC. I have no answer, so that makes me question why I'm dropping $12k a year to graduate from a school I'm going to do nothing with. I know that at one point, I had a plan to like, teach or something after school, meaning go to more school so that I could do that. I suppose I wouldn't mind a masters. It'd be nice to say that to my co-workers at Costco. Yeah. I got a masters.

But now I just don't know why I want to teach, or what'd I want to teach, and if I do want to teach why am I going to bible school isn't that just sorta silly. Bible school is for people who want to go into ministry, isn't it. If I just want to work, and work hard, then I should go to a different school. I should jump on the bloody nursing bandwagon before the train leaves the terminal. How's that for mixing metaphors. I should be a metaphorical bartender. Giggle.

I just know that I feel better at the end of the day when I'm tired. When my body is sore and achy. I know that I love to give 'er all day long as hard and as fast as I can. I like doing manual labour. I know that I don't feel that way after school, so I won't feel that way after teaching. I can "give it my all" mentally, but it's not the same.

So what then? Do I go to school and work hard in the summers, learning trades to support my mental achievements, slowly going farther and farther into debt as I academically wander about?

Yeah.

I guess so. I got nothing better to do.








Other than eat this popcorn.