On Christmas Day this year, my oldest brother Paul flew in to Sioux Center in the evening. My papa's birthday is the day after, on Boxing Day the 26th, but he was departing to Korea that day, so we celebrated three, maybe four, things that day. Mum didn't feel like cooking - this was an ambiguous situation. Anybody who's taken a theology class with my dad has been to our house for foods, so you know what you're missing. On the other side, this meant I got to spend a few relaxing days planning, prepping, baking and cooking. It was fun. Wheat bread, black olives, roast with red wine pan sauce, smoked gouda mashed potatoes (excellent) and stuffed mushrooms. Absolutely.
It's over now. Dad is gone, we've eaten other meals and set our minds on other things. I've been staying up late because I can, because I'm an owl like my father and because (this last one should justify it all) I've been trying to set my sleep schedule around to Philippines time. Of course, it will all be thrown off-track after 21 hours in the air. I hope I don't barf.
Yesterday, I sat with my mum in the basement and learned how to sew on buttons. I haven't seen her laugh so hard in a very long time. She was making fun of me. This is fine, I swear. I didn't prick myself once and I learned how to, though it takes a very, very long time. I'll just have to rip my shirts off more often and get more practice.
Last night I stayed up late and fought a looming sense of solitude. Everyone was sleeping, I imagine. It was almost four. I read a story by Saul Bellow, then Charles D'ambrosio, then Edward P. Jones and then a very short, very lovely piece by Rolf Yngve titled The Quail.

"The couple dressed, whispering about the bird and watching them peck breakfast from the lawn. He made coffee, warmed rolls and they ate at the kitchen table where they could watch the covey. He opened the window; they could smell the morning dampness and apple blossoms. Sun came through the window; the rolls were sweet with raisins and they did not have to say anything to each other."

Take some discretion. Be responsible. This is long and only for when you're very, very, very bored and have absolutely no drive whatsoever to use your time more wisely. Seriously, if you have it in you to go check the air pressure of the tires on your car, go do that and then get distracted doing something else. I'm not joking. This is ten pages of responding and typing - above anything, this was an exercise in getting comfortable putting my fingers on the keys and, slowly, incorporating my mind. Maybe your dog needs a bath or you feel like taking another walk or you're stranded in Omaha with a bunch of people that, at the very least, you can sit in silence with.
Otherwise, if you decide to read, stop when you feel like it. Stop when the mail comes. Stop when your toast is done. Stop when the commercials are over and Friends is back on. OK. Enough. It's out of my hands now. Enjoy.

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What holiday is closest to your birthday?
Earth day is eight days before. (That’s also Bearemy Westra’s birthday.) (EDIT - it's also Joke's birthday. hooooray!) Are there any birthdays in early May? I don’t think so.

What is your name if you spell it without the letters "e" "y" and "t"?
Alvin Shim. What a stupid question. Who comes up with this crap?

If you named a band after your birth-month and your pet, what would it be?
April Daisy… what a puke-tastic band that would be. Ha! I like this question.

Have you had your birthday yet this year?
It’s December 19, and I just said that my birth-month is April. What’s the deal? Pip, did you write these? Come on now – this was supposed to be an exercise in putting words on the screen quickly.

Where was the last place you went and why?
I returned Bridget’s car to her and she dropped me off at the library, where I ran into Piper and Jake and Matt Postma and I did research for an essay.

Do you have a twin?
I worked with a girl named Helen at Subway who told me that I totally reminded her of her brother. She loves and missed her brother so I took it as a compliment. Seriously, she told me this every freaking time we worked together. A few months ago, I ran into her on campus and she introduced me to her brother. Her brother is a Korean kid that her family adopted and he looks nothing like me. What a racist, right?

Are you afraid of shots?
Don’t make me laugh.

What color are the walls of the room you are in?
White with a very yuppie border… that’s running along the middle of the walls. I’m in the basement of my parents’ house and I’m surprised that I can write in this room.

How many letters are in your middle name?
Five. E-U-N-B-O. I guess technically, that’s my middle name. In Korean, there are five letters too. But that’s too easy. My dad was all like… “Oh, a middle name? Let’s just put his Korean name down!” and my mom was all, “Fucking right!” Meanwhile, here I am pouting and saying “I would have named [me] Kingsley if I had any say in the matter…”

Is your last name longer than 6 letters long?
Who comes up with this crap? Seriously, I want to know. No. It’s not. Any more brain busters?

If you were in an accident, would you rather lose a hand or an ear?
Oooooh. A “Would You Rather?” This is a hard one. (That’s what she said.) I’m gonna go with ear… provided I still have the hearing ability out of what would then be known as “the ugly motherfucking hole on the side of my head.” Then I could still tell from which direction people are yelling at me from.

Have you ever dyed your hair an unnatural color?
No. I’ve had it cut several times in the persuasion of a sexual preference that is unnatural. Just kidding – I don’t maintain that lesbians are unnatural. To say that would be, I think, inappropriate and disrespectful.

If a gorilla and a horse had a baby, what would the new creature be called?
Nobody could beat Piper’s answer of “Horilla, just like your mom,” so I’m going to leave this one alone.

Does anyone call you baby?
Does anyone NOT call me baby? I’m a huge flirt.

Regular Cheetos or hot?
At the moment… prolly neither as I am typing and I don’t want powder cheese all up in my laptop’s bidness. But I’m asian, so I’ll go with spicy Cheetos. Cheetos, in asian talk, is Chee-toe-suh. You cannot end on a syllable.

Favorite fruit?
At the moment… peach. Smoothie. Sometimes I answer questions like a girl.

Are you scared of spiders?
No. I’ve not problems with spiders. I used to tease ex-girlfriend about being scared of spiders. Sometimes I answer questions like a schoolyard flirt.

Do you have a piercing?
My mom would kill me. Sometimes I answer questions like a huge pansy.

Whose birthday is coming up?
My poppa’s. Mom wants to make prime rib or some other white person food, which is surprising, and we talked about that, which was really fun. Also my sister’s… which is sometime around Christmas my mom says… and… um, let’s see what facebook has to say… Oh. Lynda Kuipers has a birthday tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Lynda!

Do you like roller coasters?
Is this a sexual question? Sometimes I answer questions like a dude in college.

Do you have a tattoo?
No, I should right? Tattoo on the lower back. Might as well be a bull’s eye. My brother and I went to see that movie seven times in the theatres. Ladies, be willing to laugh at that movie. Just a little tip. (TWSS)

What is wrong with you right now?
Other people are taller and other things that I’m not, or not enough. Bastards.

Do you care what others think about you?
Bridget and I were talking about this the other day… and the answer is yes, to some extent. I care about my friends and I try to be someone that they’re proud to know, that they can say, “Yeah, that guy’s my friend,” and so forth. And I know what/who I am – I’m very critical of myself, but it’s according to my standards, and I try to be deliberate about what I do and that generally has a higher standing than what other people think. I mean, I’m interested in seeing what my friends think of me because they’re my friends and it’s good to have a different perspective, for the sake of accountability or discussion or whatever, but… I guess the short answer is that I know who I am and I know what I’m trying to do.

Do think you'll be married in 10 years?
By the time I’m thirty? Listen lady, I don’t even know what TOMORROW will bring. I have other things I would rather think about.

Are you afraid of the dark?
Shit no. I like to scare people. Have you seen my Stanley Kubrick face? It’s amazing. Right, ladies?

Do you like your life at the moment?
I do. Very much so. There’s much to be thankful for and the snow is astounding. I feel for my friends who are stranded in airports or in dinky towns or whatever, but that’s a journey that I would gladly take myself. I’m happy that they got to experience it. Omaha overnight with forty Dordt people that you don’t necessarily hang out with a lot? That’d be fun, I think.

Where were you last night?
Dark room developing negatives and smelling coffee beans and having conversations that are allowed now that the semester is winding down. Then the brick house. Then my parents’ house.

What kind of shirt are you wearing?
A Free Palestine shirt that Joel Veldkamp got me from his semester in Egypt, Turkey, Jordan, Jerusalem etc. It’s all cotton and Jake Kroeze was flipping out about it. It feels nice. Thanks again, Joel.

Are you any good at math?
I’m actually really great at math. I scored the highest on the math section on the ACTs. Like, astoundingly high. Isn’t that weird?

What is an important date out of the year for you?
This seems like a loaded question. Is this a loaded question? I don’t know. This year? December 30 is pretty important ‘cause that’s when we take off for the Philippines.

Last thing received in the mail?
A reimbursement check from Dordt and Gourmet magazine. It made me want to cook and then write about cooking and then to cook with other people, and then to write about that.

Do you ever leave messages on people's answering machines?
On voicemails? I left a very bitter and emotional one on Danielle Roos’ yesterday. It was pretty fun, and we worked it out today. Rollercoaster, right? Chicks, man.

What is out your back door?
Poop. Hehe! But seriously folks… out my back door is my back yard.

Any plans for Friday night?
Right now is Friday night. I’m going to finish this thing, transcribe a recording onto Word, go have Larva cut my hair, enjoy fellowship, come back and kick out a family essay and then finalize a profile that I just finished a draft of before this, then finalize the family essay, THEN I’ll read and respond to sermons of John Donne. It’s been a good day. Not even joking, I really enjoy academics.

Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different kinds of popcorn?
My family has a long time ago. They’re so hedonistic, aren’t they? Wow.

Something you are excited about?
Uganda coffee that Bridget gifted to me. It has tones of dark chocolate and ripe fruit and, when I had it for the first time, I yelled at her over the phone, “This is the best coffee ever!” If you’re in town, come over and we’ll have some. It’s delicious. Bailey, it’s comparable to your Smokey Row crap. It’s on.

Describe your keychain...
It’s a blue lanyard from my old church in Grand Rapids where my oldest brother is still at and, weird, he’s the youth pastor at now. It says, “Hahn-in CRC of Grand Rapids.” I love my brother and the congregation there. Really, I do. But I get a bad taste in my mouth when I think of Korean churches. It’s something I shouldn’t stray from, I know. But I’m not motivated to join a Korean congregation anytime in the future.

Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
In the apartment, with my roommate, we close the door. Yeah, I think I generally close the door, but I can sleep anywhere. I slept on the couch last night, like a freaking log.

What kind of bottoms are you wearing?
Blue jeans. They’re pretty reliable – I have three (or is it four) pairs of jeans that I rotate around, but I should really look into getting other pants.

If you could move somewhere else, would you?
Piper said yes. I don’t know what this question means, or what her answer implies. Sioux Center? Leave Dordt? Now? It might be in my best interest to take a year off of academics to teach English with my brother (if he ends up doing that, and I want to do that with him. David just graduated from Michigan State business school with a finance degree and he can’t find a job.) I just spoke with Bethany Schuttinga today, at some length, about the advantages Sioux Center has. The short is, I can move somewhere else and I think it’s crucial to leave Sioux Center. At the same time, I don’t think it’s the end of the world to come back. For the record, I don’t think I will.

Can you live a day without TV?
I don’t depend on TV, bitch. There aren’t a lot of things that I need on a daily basis. And I like challenges.

Would you ever become a vegetarian?
On the one hand, becoming a vegetarian has potential for enormous health benefits. There are, when it’s done right, and please calm down. And when you think about what to eat as a vegetarian, you might end up eating a lot of other foods that you normally wouldn’t because it seems a lot of Iowan meals revolve around some sort of animal flesh. If you don’t restrict your food in that way, then you eat other kinds of food and, let’s be honest, you generally eat healthier if this occurs. Flip side, I’ve heard of idiots who try going without meat for a set amount of time and end up eating cereal for a week. (I love cereal.)
I can’t think of many foods I don’t like. I love food. I’ll eat anything and there aren’t many foods that I think are “wrong” to eat. Maybe there are, but I’m not really thinking too hard about it right now. To answer the question, no.

Have you ever been around someone who was high?
Not that I’ve been aware of. My brother used to talk about when he would get high in Michigan, but he never brought any back with him. Jerk.

What color cell phone do you have?
Gray, but who the fuck cares?

Are you right or left handed?
Right for most things, like writing and racquetball and golf but left for hockey. Isn’t that messed up?

If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
Like in Big Fish, Ewan McGregor was freaking invincible because he knew when he was going to die. In that sense, it would be great to live life that fearlessly, but I don’t think we’re meant to live that fearlessly. I think we are meant to live fearlessly in a sense, but I guess what I mean is that there should be room for faith in what we don’t know will happen. I like the uncertainty of life as it is now.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000?
I love hot sauce.

Mood?
A little buzzed from several cups of Uganda dark chocolate/ripe fruit coffee. My feet are cold.

Listening to?
NPR’s All Songs Considered. A live Iron & Wine concert that I forgot I had on my iPod. They ended with Flightless Bird, American Mouth and encored with Naked As We Came. Gosh. There are some things that you cannot escape. And, listening to this, Chuck, we should record a radio session soon.

Worrying about?
Has everyone got home safe? Am I going to finish the things I need to finish to pass the classes I need to pass?

Do you smile often?
I’m very blessed in how much I enjoy the people I enjoy, so yes. When I’m alone, and reading or cooking or thinking or listening to music etc., I still smile but it’s not as… I guess it’s not as constant.

Where is your cell phone?
A few inches from my hands. Betsy said the other day that she didn’t believe I didn’t see that she called because I always have my phone with me, and she was right. I do always have my freaking phone with me. I did, by the way, see that someone was calling, but I didn’t have her room number in my contacts and I was already talking to Val who had made it home safely.

Your hair?
Recently cleared/ravaged of the emo bangs last night. I couldn’t take all that emotion in my eyes anymore – it was getting in the way of my focus, so I hunched down over the waste basket with a pair of scissors and, catharsis!, clipped those fuckers off. I don’t think it looks horrible, actually, but like I said, Larva will fix them in a little bit.

Your mother?
Upstairs, with sixty white hairs less than she had an hour ago, and still one of the classiest, funniest persons I know. I love my mother unapologetically. Most of my friends do too.

Your father?
He just got home, from furiously grading shit at the end of the semester. One of the best professors I’ve ever had. And, he’s really funny too.

Where do you want to be in 6 years?
Twenty-six? Trying something out without any reservations. Still asking questions.

Is there anyone you want to fight?
“I went out into the night, I went out to pick a fight!” Yeah, a lot of my friends say ridiculous things and sometimes I say, “Joel, we’re going to fight after this. After we have coffee, we’re going to fight.” It’s not always Joel, but you understand what I mean. No, I don’t really want to fight Joel (physically) but we talk often and it is always great. I like confrontations.

What are you doing tomorrow?
My family’s going to Sioux City so I can, and must, spend the day reading and writing. It will be beautiful, working at my own pace and in an empty house.

Who were you with last night?
This is such a girl-roommate question. Mind yo’ business, ho!
I was with the groomsmen fellas, and a fiancé, and a girlfriend. Then with Bridget and darkroom chemicals. Then with Bridget, Dee, Ross, Scotterson, Bearemy, Lisa, Larva and, briefly, Andrew Kroeze.

Are you married?
As a friend of mine said, “I have too much fun flirting.” This was not said in the context of marriage, nor do I think this in the context of marriage, but no, I’m not married.

Do you wish at 11:11?
I wish at 12:34. It was one of the super cute things ex-girlfriend extraordinaire and I used to do.

Next vacation you're going on?
Who the flip knows? A road trip somewhere?

Have you told anyone a secret in the past week?
I tell secrets constantly. I guess they’re not secrets at all then, but I’m okay with that. They’re mine to tell.

Could you date someone taller than you?
Am I willing to? Yeah, I did (by a little bit). Am I able to? Not really, I guess.

How do you feel about the person who texted you last?
My brother went out to drop off my sister at the video store, then a friend’s house and then he went to the REC center. He texted me this, “Did Grace call? Jinny is taking forever.” Grace Jeong, organist-at-large, is stranded in Chicago airport and we’re worried about her. Jinny is my sister. I called him back.

Ring ring.

David: Yo, I’m roaming.

Me: Yeah, I have limited texting.

David: OK. But I’m roaming.

Me: I guess we’re even then, bitch.

David: Allright, fine. See you later.

Me: Wait. Wait. Wait.

David: What?

Me: …what’s going on, man?

It was pretty fun.

Who was the last person you threw out of your life?
That’s not how I roll. Or, rather, people have been good to me.

What are you going to do after this?
Transcribe and get my hair cut, then write and edit and write and edit. And drink more coffee.

Do you believe in magic?
There are two s’s in Meissner. And no, I do not.

What do you normally eat at lunch?
There is no normally with the things I eat.

What color do you wear the most?
My glasses are fading, but they were red. And blue jeans.

Do people annoy you?
Don’t people annoy everybody? I don’t really associate with annoying people.

Do you annoy people?
Yeah, probably. Everybody plays the bodbook game, right?

Spandex or jeans?
I’m getting tired and this is a dumb question.

When did you last leave the state?
Just a few days ago – I went with Paul H to take Christina and Jessica Beimers to Sioux Falls airport. That was fun.

If you had to speak another language, what would it be?
Instead of English? Spanish.

Bubble bath or car wash?
Right now? Bubble bath.

Would you go out with someone for money?
I’m horrible with money – chances are I’d just end up spending it all on some chick… so this is a crafty question for me. Go out? What does that even mean?

What are you doing at 2:00 on Thursday’s?
Why is there an apostrophe on Thursdays? Oh, I get it. On should be at and Thursday’s is a bar. I guess I’m going to wish I were 21 at 2:00 at Thursday’s.

What’s your favorite nighttime activity?
Cooking leisurely and then hookah.

If your best friend won a million dollars, what would you say?
“Heyyyy best friend!”

Your slogan/motto?
“No excuses. Play like a champion.” And, “Heyyoooo!” with rabid hand movements.

Have you had alcohol this past week?
Yes.

Are you happy with life?
The girl who’s done with her semester and is marrying Jacob Kroeze answered “meh,”to this question. Are you kidding me, Piper?
Yes, I am.

Could you cry right now?
I can’t remember the last time I cried. It’s a real problem and I’m going to lose it soon and it will be just outrageous. I’m listening to Radiohead’s Bodysnatchers now… so no. Probably not.

What were you doing this morning at 7am?
Sleeping on the couch two feet in front of me.

What do you need to be doing right now?
Right here, typing and reacting and responding.

Is there anything silver near you?
No. Are there any interesting questions where you are Nina, you stupid hoe-bag? (I’m calling the creator of stupid questions Nina, the stupid hoe-bag.)

What were you doing at 1 AM this morning?
Sitting on a couch with two ladies. That’s right.

Do you wear contacts?
I will fight you, Nina. And no.

Who's house were you at last?
My parents. Before that, Deemela and Paul K’s.

What color shirt were you wearing when your last kiss took place?
Uhhh… I kissed my mum today and I was wearing my Bring the Noise! shirt. That’s kind of funny.

What color shirt was the person you kissed wearing?
Pink – for as much as she hates girly girls, she really wears a lot of pink. Isn’t that funny?

Song playing right now?
The song JUST ended. The next on the album is Nude. This is the song that Bailey labeled The Little Mermaid song because of the last vocal. God, I love this album.

What were you doing an hour ago?
Writing a profile about Helen van Beek.

Do you wear the seat belt in the car?
Usually, but only to set an example. (Joking.)

Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else?
My dad was just saying that he met with Pastor Mark Verbruggen earlier this week and he called my dad Alvin. Then I said that when I’m in class with Dr. Dengler, she calls me Jay. We both agreed that she is one hell of a professor. And then I remembered one time that Carl Zylstra called me Kevin.

What's something you really want right now, be honest?
To sit on the couch with two ladies again. Ha. No, I really want to work on my writing and I’m sort of doing that, I’m preluding a long night of writing attempts and… I really want… a lot of things that I won’t go into here. Let’s keep this moving.

Do you like to text or call more?
I like calling because I have limited texting and I’ve seen what unlimited texting does to you, but I like texting because I find I laugh A LOT when I read text messages… I mean, I laugh a lot all the time, but I often do the big “HA!” when I read texts.

What's the closest blue object to you?
A mechanical pencil. Nina, you should consider changing careers. Keep being a stupid hoe-bag if you wish, but maybe you go to night school for something?

Do you like the color orange?
I like oranges, which are orange, with Betsy, who is terrific.

Sometimes, do you wish you were someone else?
I’m going to sound like a liar, but I imagine I used to wish that but I don’t remember any specific time that I felt that way. And I know I hardly ever feel that way now. Someone I know once said, “I think I’m pretty kick ass.” She said this more than three years ago, and I think about it quite often. Like I said, I like who I am and who I’m trying to be.

Who did you last talk to on the phone?
Larva, about plans tonight. It was weird talking on the phone to her, but it was fun.

Where will you be in a hour?
Will I be done with this? I’ll be transcribing forty minutes of conversation that I recorded earlier of my family at the dinner table. I’m really excited about it because it’s hilarious and it’s beautiful, the themes we touch, the pacing of the conversations. Really, it’s great. I think I might upload it for Paul to hear. Really, it’s just marvelous.

What was going through your mind during your last kiss?
When I kissed my mom? I was on my way out the door and she told me to drive safely and she was being wonderful and calm and youthful.
The last “kiss” I had? Well, I kissed a few people in love but the last kiss I “shared” which might be what you’re getting at was with Renae, my ex-girlfriend and, then, girlfriend, and I present-tense love her and it was a long time ago. We broke up around this time last year, and hadn’t shared any kisses near the end so I really don’t remember.

When was the last time you danced with a boy/girl?
We had impromptu prom a few weekends ago at the brick house. I shared a lovely slow dance with Betsy. Gosh, I’m a lucky guy.
Also, I dance with my dog quite often. But there’s nothing slow about those dances.

How late did you stay up last night and why?
Around 4 30 AM. I wasn’t sleepy.

Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a J?
Jeremy, Jacob… uhh… some Koreans probably… I’m an affectionate dude.

Who's the last person to send you a myspace message?
Myspace!? Nina, I’m going to fight you.

Whose bed did you sleep in last night?
Couched it.

Ever kissed anyone 18 or older?
I’m not even going to answer these dumb questions anymore. I’m just going to say random things. I like thin-crust pizza.

Have you held hands with anyone in the past week?
As I said, I’m an affectionate dude… so, yes.

Do you like to cuddle?
I only know of… three people that I care about who aren’t affectionate, and of those three, TWO of the don’t like to cuddle. I do. I’m somewhat picky about who I cuddle with, but there’s a large circle of people that I would be down for holding or cuddling with.

What are your plans for the next weekend?
After Christmas? Prep. for Philippines, reading a lot, watching a lot of films and going to the REC with my brothers.

Did you ever lose a friend?
I hesitate about the phrasing. I’ve lost touch with some friends and sometimes it makes me sad, but not usually because that’s how it goes and it goes on. I’ve had some conflicts and confrontations with friends, but I still consider them to be friends and I would still do anything for them though we don’t really hang out anymore.

Are you someone's best friend?
Yep. It’s very encouraging and I find that it makes me happy.

Do you have a dog?
Yep. She loves fast dancing and she’s a yipper and fat and spoiled and loud and insane, but I love her and it’s unchristian how our entire family fawns over her. She has an ear infection and she’s been a bit low-key today, but she’s our dog, and we love her. I hope you feel better, Daisy. Please stop barking at the mailman.

Biggest annoyance in your life right now?
Dordt wants me to pay to get in my apartment over break. Not a huge deal, just an inconvenience. I don’t like packing to go down the street over break. I hate packing.

Have you spoken to your mother today?
Fuckin’ right I did. Don’t tell her I said that.

What color is your hair?
Black.

Have you ever thought you liked someone, and then found out that you really didn't?
Have I ever crushed on someone? The last time was on Carmela Vanderploeg, and that’s completely understandable. It’s probably expected even. Am I right, fellas? That was, as crushes go, when I didn’t know who she was and now I do and she’s lovely. Do I still crush on her? Maybe!

Do you want any piercings?
My feet are still cold and my mom is going to sleep. It’s just after 10 PM and, on the one hand, I think it’s funny that’s she acts like she’s older than she is, but it’s a little concerning sometimes because I don’t want her to age or slow down or decline at all. When I was younger, she used to say (in Korean) that mothers don’t die.

Do you drink water?
“not really..... i don't like it” That’s what Piper said. What the heck are you saying? How do you not like drinking water?

Does the last person you hugged make you happy?
My mum? Yep.
My initial thought reaction was that any hug makes me happy, but then I remembered a bad hug I had right before Thanksgiving break this year. It was shattering. I rarely have bad hugs. I mean, who gives bad hugs? But they exist, you know? It’s all conservative and half-assed (not literally, though a literal full-assed hug is just marvelous) and, really, I would rather go without it. A bad hug from someone you don’t want to hug is expected, but this hug was definitely with someone that I would like to hug. It was a goodbye hug, and maybe there was some awkward factor involved (very likely, there was) but the point is… wow. That sucked.

Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette?
I honestly believe I could. In the same vein, I really like smoking.

Are you mean?
In the way that I get hit on the arm a lot.

How many kids do you want to have?
Several.

Are you afraid to grow up?
I don’t know that I am growing up all that much.

What woke you up this morning?
My mom, telling me to go shovel the driveway with my dad and brother. I was not happy. I’m not a morning person. But we had seventeen inches of fluffy snow last night and I don’t know very many other times when it’s more satisfying to be outside.

Do you miss your past?
I love my past. I love to revisit it with conversations and music and actually going back to the physical locations, it’s haunting and wrenching, but it is what it is and there’s right now and there’s the immediate future and there are people in my life now that I would do anything for.

Honestly, if you could go back 5 months and change something would you?
Five months ago was July. I don’t know that I would be able (not willing) to change anything. If I could visit myself back then, I’d ask me to be a better worker at the garden, but I don’t know that I would listen. It’s not a fair question – I know more now. I’ve been told things like “You should have” done this or that back at this time or that, and if the question is whether I would listen and do that, then I would. But it didn’t make any sense at the time.

syllabus

I like literature because I like stories and, perhaps more honestly, I'm greedy. My red desk is cluttered with texts and essays of criticism and other necessary materials to affirm that the idea of an anthology is beautiful. I like literature because it's meditative and a social act and often I am whispered things that are so terrible and wonderful that they have to be whispered often and repeatedly.

---

In my dream, the nights were warmer and less angry. We were out on the soft lawn, not saying much, and watching the sky slowly grow dim. I turned over to look at you (you had said something ridiculous) and, from behind you, a hunched shadow was creeping towards you. A hunter, a predator, placing its steps in a straight line and poised to fly at any moment. "Don't turn around," I said and reached over to come between you and the shadow. The shadow pounced. It sank its teeth in my arm, gnashing and expelling curses. Blood flying up in the moonlight, I flung it to the ground and kicked it repeatedly in the neck, hearing a sick and horrible thump every time. It was the size of a child old enough to run and jump and shout insults at other children in the schoolyard but, this may be the oddest part of the dream, it looked like a rabbit. And rabbits are adorable and genial and nobody has it in their heart to hate (or fear) a rabbit... except for the most heartless people of all, gardeners. A vicious, bloodthirsty, larger-than-normal rabbit and my arm was torn to pieces, drenched in dark blood and my heel was pressed down at its throat. It struggled and kicked and continued to hiss profane words at me, as I forced myself to watch its life drain away. What did it say? Something terrifying and primal - I can't say specifically.
We found where they came from a few moments later. My arm was bandaged, I had a large and very heavy sword with me. Several others did as well. Still more had flashlights. We were to work in teams. Two flashlighters to a swordsman (or swordswoman) and find their eggs (demon rabbits coming from large, keg-sized eggs... go with it) hidden around the BJ Haan. We worked frantically. They were quickly hatching, springing from their birth immediately to feed a primal hunger for destruction. Slash! Slash! It was horrible and we performed our tasks openly weeping, the flashlighters standing aghast from a safe distance. They were attacked often, and we defended them as best we could.
There was no way to tell if we had gotten them all, but we stopped together (there were maybe two hundred of us in all) and we didn't know where to look. We all stood , finding reasons to shield our eyes as every part of the building, and ourselves, were covered in blood. We had no tears left to expel. The job was done but the building was one of irreversible silent horror. We couldn't look at each other, we couldn't speak and we silently left our swords and flashlights behind. I think we would have burned the building down and had never returned to Sioux Center if we had the choice but the dream ended there, with our exit, and I can't tell you why or what.

---
Someone has my Magnolia dvd. Please return it soon, I'd like to view it.

The lives we lead are indications of who we are. Now, some of you may question this idea of our existence as a friend of mine did late one evening, with that day's filming winding down, with his one (small) dailiy meal in his belly, and his first glass of wine in hand. "Alvin, Alvin, Alvin..." He said this frantically, as if he had indispensable information to relay - something about the settings on the camera or a continuity threat, I thought. I asked the actors and crew to relax for a few minutes and walked over. He looked horrible, with crayon-purple lines under his eyes, his skin was almost green. "Are we... what we do or do we do who we are...?"

I think I've found a mentor. She briefly relayed her life story with me. She listened. She didn't nod when it wasn't necessary and, help me, she reassured me, maybe without even trying, that it's under control. "God is a God of control," and we shouldn't stop making plans because of that.

Anyway - there's the Christmas banquet going on and I'm in the library, with a decent handful of other students. They're working and studying and writing, stacks of books next to their keyboards, shoes flung off long ago and shoulders hunched over in immobility. I'm honored to be here working, still, among them and to everyone at the dance with their friends, I hope they have a terrific time.

The lives we lead are indications of who we are... and, while we don't always have control over the opportunities we have, we ultimately make the decision of whether to take them or not. Even if, say, some high school senior's parents "make" him/her enroll at Dordt. Even then, of course, there is the decision to be forced.

Time will tell, but I wish I had a council of the things I fill my life with - said council would have an accurate and diverse understanding of my character, strengths, weaknesses abilities etc. Why's that? It would be fun, wouldn't it? Why not? And also, it'd be useful to have an objective view of where my strengths are. And since none of you gave me any guidanace or thoughts, whatsoever, of what I could pursue... well, here we are. What's good and bad? Blogger has an anonymous feature on the comments, if you prefer. Please enjoy.

What do we owe our friends and/or family? Gratitude and love and willingness to listen, sure. If you say so. But, to most anyone who is reading this, you don't owe me anything... or I may also say that in this way: You never have to answer to me. You never have to explain or defend yourself to me. All of that, including the action of loving or listening to me, is your prerogrative. I'm your friend and/or brother and I'll never expect the right to have you tell me things or report to me or, say, feel guilty/ashamed to tell me things (even if they have to do with me). Of course there are times when I'd love to know things, to listen to you etc. but I won't be expecting it; we're all allowed our secrets, aren't we? We're allowed to react and respond how we wish, aren't we?

It's at a point in the semester when fun and relaxation and conversation takes a small, humbling step down and academia nods understandingly to take a step up. So there was no party last night - Friday night. There was quietly focused reading, a review of the layout for photo book and moments of theme consideration for a paper that is now past the due date. (Yes, there was time spent with friends in an apt. but it was sober and somewhat brief and - screw you - very, very, very fun. And, anyway, I came back and read some more.)
So after that evening at the end of this week, I dreamt of a cross-country road-trip, casually picking up and dropping off various people along the way, riding in an old VW bus and, somehow, I spent most of the driving time outSIDE of the bus (sticking head out the window, surfing on the roof, on a red wagon getting dragged by the rope tied to the back bumper etc.) And you were there, and you were there and so forth. The last thing before I woke up to a house of cute Korean girls asking me what I wanted for breakfast was

We had stopped for a meal together. There were, at this point in the trip, almost twenty of us. It may have been a rest area because that would explain the picnic tables. There were two of them and the rest of us were eating on top of the bus. Eight at the big table, six at the other and six more on the bus. While places were set and food was brought out, I tried to get a portrait of everyone at that point. I was shooting with film and it was early evening (in the summer) so the sun was low, but still bright, and shadows were strong.
I hate the idea of posed photographs - portraits, senior pictures, the majority of facebook smiles and all that. Smile! Say Cheese! 1,2,3! Mostly because a lot of these planned smiles look the same so, say you look through someone's facebook and see that the person is with different people, at different places but, often times, the smile is the exact same. It's static, and creepy.
I didn't have to say this in the dream - I don't think I would have, now that I think about it - but I didn't want to document that this person was on the trip. Each person had a different reaction to the energy of the trip, and to everyone else in the group, and the location was new and visually interesting (the corrugated sides of the van, the textures of the worn picnic tables, handing plates up to the roof of the van).
But sometimes people take direction very, very well and you can tell them specifically what you want in the photograph. Other times, you want THEM and, in order to get that, you have to make them comfortable with the camera there pointing at them. And you have to know exactly when to release the shutter, considering the composition of the frame and the lighting and...

My point is, let's go on a road trip. Also, I'm looking forward to the Philippines.

OK. Back to work.

For Laura Mac, in response to her post, and to everybody else who [often] falls into hopelessness and despair.


Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridge to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on the stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

-W. S. Merwin

"Go away now."

My mom is hilarious.

There were a few moments today, with my immediate family assembled, when the conversations flew about like three middle-schoolers, seven bouncy balls and a racquetball court. Like the nimble lucky buggers they are, none of them got hit/hurt and, really, at least one of them should have. For crying out loud, a few eyes should have been knocked out - eh? Seriously, things were shouted all around and nobody heard anybody say anything. Yes, hilarity and excitement and family. Word.

There's jalapeno cornbread on the counter, waiting to be turned into stuffing tomorrow. Also, the turkey is drying, stuffed with aromatics and rubbed with oregano and parsley. And there are potatoes waiting to be mashed. Am I looking forward to tomorrow? In many ways, yes. Mom is making foodstuffs of the Korean variety for her husband, sons, daughter and all those Dordt students (of the Korean variety). Imagine how much of a celebration that will be - magnificent, straightforward, no-fuss Korean food. It'll be an honor to make three dishes with her. Just three! Make 'em count! And, you know, it will be eaten by all of the above... you know, the Korean variety. And that's great.

It's funny how you change when you go on break. I guess it's also humbling to find that you don't have as firm a grasp on your mind as you had thought or planned. OK - I need to absorb some crap and rest for awhile, I can accept that... I think. The problem is, instead of running back and forth from various classes, projects, meetings, etc. I find my mental energy running on what used to be (partially) blocked. Grr.

Readers... I don't know what to do with my life. Yep. Go!

It's pretty daunting, encouraging and cool that these video projects keep popping up.

I'm six pages into the new novel for Canadian Lit. It's "Obasan" by Joy Kogawa. I have yet to comprehend how it falls into the Canadian Lit. category, other than the author living in Canada or the narrator living in Canada. I don't know. But I'm six pages in and, like most novels are at this point, I have little idea what's going on. I have only an abrupt introduction with this character, this voice and, presumably, I'll gradually lose that initial wariness and fall deeper and deeper into the character and the story. What if human interaction were like that? What if our words and actions were nearly as deliberate? Imagine how we would be, to each other, if we were to take each other by the hand and fearlessly unroll ourselves?
It's not like that; we toss and turn, rolling with the wind and the hours while the words on the page stand still, waiting to be read. The people on the screen fade to black, but they are seen by patient viewers. The stage characters wash off their makeup every night, but they never forget the lives they filled and the characters they invited to thwart their own individual beings. The subjects are suspended in ink, posed or candid, and SNAP their physical image is captured, stolen, on paper.
Could we stand to be a little more brave? Would we benefit from taking each other in with more patience, and eagerness, as when we read a novel?

Love is a promise made of smoke.

I read short stories last night, I read poems this morning.
I read poems in class, I recited lyrics after class,
I discussed a novel in class, then I put up posters.
I assigned Charles Baxter, J.D. Salinger and Flannery O'Connor.
I negotiated election, petition, promotion and politics.
I hit a ball, against a wall, over and over and over and over again.

Arrangements have been made, the best they can, for the shoot tomorrow. Wednesday, at 3, the interior car dialogue scenes of Nick and Michaela who will call each other Paul and Jennifer.
Before I go on, I must apologize to whoever reads this, to the owners of the eyes that are probably saying, by now, "Oh Lord help us - he's bitching about existence again."
Well, I'm not... explicitly... this time... yet.
It's not very often that I get to sit down with friends, agenda-free, to drink and food without the looming obligation, and anxiety, of what still needs to be done immediately after. And the funny thing is that there were three of us and one person was talking about... just thoughts and how she reacts to various people. Myself and the other friend sitting there, listening, taking it in, sipping drinks, occaisonally asking a small question or chuckling. For a few moments, I conjured up the memories of past living arrangements and how it seemed, almost nightly, to invite friends over for small meals in the dark of night to speak freely, to confess, unload, vent, babble or catch up all with the freedom and openness that comes with a semi-occupied mind at the stove, at the cutting board.

"But you weren't as busy last year," and that changes things, I suppose.

Earlier today, a friend showed me an image of the Canadian landscape - trees surrounding a glacier-formed lake and... well, I suppose you would call them devotions, maybe not, but the one beautiful thought, idea or image that stays with you through the day, that shakes your bones to however God reveals himself that day. It might be the idea of the Canadian wilderness, a passage by Steinbeck, the solitary tones from a piano/clarinet recital.

And to venture there, to hike and camp and read and shout and sit.

Likewise, to spend days viewing films, reading stories, absorbing photography/design ideas...

But it's not like that, as a result of a conscious decision I made. Here. It's not paying my dues - I'm not a med. student, working towards a goal, a certificate that, then, allows me to do what I want. I'm already doing what I want here - responding to Canadian Lit, for one. And there are many.

I have to apologize also, then, for my finite temperance.

I miss my brothers, living their lives out in parallel directions, somehow, to mine.

I have miles to go. We all do, I suppose, as the semester is closing rapidly.

I hate that we end up taking each other for granted - that we lose each other in our ambitions and keep our greetings short, meaningless.

I dreamt, this is an odd one, that I was back in my church in Michigan and Jesus was there and we all gathered in one huge crowd, asking him questions and raising up differences in theology and doctrine... but Jesus just wanted to play basketball with us. He kept dribbling around us, taking shots and - of course - nabbing his own rebounds. At one point, he finally held the ball in his hands and looked a girl in the eyes, gorgeous, delicate eyes, and said,
"Do you really think I created you to..."
and, honestly, I forget how he finished that sentence. He embraced her then and continued to play basketball. No, we didn't join in at that point - the eighty gaping-mouthed Koreans we are/were - we watched him. Jesus tries really hard, but he's not very coordinated with a basketball. It's funny now, but at the time... wow...

In Front of Faith and Film

I'm standing here at the podium, at 7 36 waiting to start Amelie and there are about 20 or so people here, also waiting to start Amelie. The coffee/cider is on its way. It's Friday evening, everyone seems excited to be with each other, talking about fun things and other fun people. Everyone looks really good in their cold weather garb, having had shed one layer from the snow and wind outside. Where's Piper? Where's Jeremy? Has Poppa Lief come to any films this semester? Where are the Hulsts? They're on the email list, I know.
On the Radio, Regina Spektor is about to end... and I decided to start the film after this song.
Discuss film? End and simply go live life? Why should we stay inside to talk about living life? About falling in life with life? Who knows what will happen...
Field Below is a good song too... ... ... after this song, I'll start. They're going around each other, making sure they touch base with everybody here... Mark and Laura just started singing... other things they say, to each other, random little bits of questions, short giggles, slurred words. I think I may become an alcoholic (joke).
For that matter, if anyone was weirded out by the Guster post, No, I did not write that out of experience. Older brother Paul, I did not, and do not, sleep with girls. I wake up alone and, well, that's funny that you thought that.
What should I do after this? I want to take some photos, but I think my models are out of commission. A lot of people have been out of commission lately. I want to get out of Sioux Center to read. Oh shit. No, I can't. I can't. I'm meeting about shooting in Omaha after this. At the Bean. Yep. That's what I'm doing. I'm doing it. That's what I'm doing. And that will take some time.
Are there any drummers out there? I want to start playing music on a semi-regular basis again. I know I could ask Voss and I know he'd be enthusiastic about it, but I wonder if we would. Maybe after figuring out film nonsense, I'll just play guitar... or do some more photo research... or... bake something? I hope Amelie inspires me, I hope it wakes me up. 'Cause I may fall asleep...
OK, these people are starting to sound incredulous and dramatic. The song is ending. Here we go.

Shit. We have to listen to this song too! Hotel Song.
Love you.

It might sound crass to you, whoever you are, but...

Why is it that when you ask someone a question, they always preface their answer with the reasons why? I find myself being really annoyed lately with these situations. Just say yes or no. I don't care too much why; I just need to know if you can do this or you can't, not so much if you want do or won't.

This sounds crass to me, right now, but I know I feel this way still because... well, don't worry about disappointing me or, even worse, don't try to deflect my being mad or irritated with you by listing your reasons why.
We're all busy.
We are all very busy. We don't have time to tell each other how busy we are. It's not a contest and I'm not going to feel sorry for you. If you really need to, how about a "Can I tell you about my day?"

Bah what a week, but Monday was so beautiful. Today, even, was beautiful with the sky and the impending doom. And the rain.

---


I/Myself by Carol Shields

A moment of no importance
but there I was, three
years old, swinging at the gate

thinking (theatrical even then)
here I am, three years old
swinging at the gate

There's no choice
about this. Consciousness is a bold
weed, it grows where it wants,
sees what it wants to see

what it sees is a moment within
a moment, a voice
outside a voice

saying: here I am, three
years old, swinging at the gate

I Hope Tomorrow is Like Today
by Guster off of their album, Keep it Together AND the Wedding Crashers soundtrack.

I've always taken this song as a late night, pining for someone that doesn't even know it, song. Or maybe not even that, maybe just thinking about someone late at night and you don't want to wake them up, pull them out of bed and ask to have a drink. I'm awake, you're still sleeping. And the banality of this, the so-common tortures we commit on ourselves, The sun will rise like yesterday. I've been listening to this song for years, since before Wedding Crashers came out and my brother and I went to see it in the theaters seven or so times because 1) there wasn't much else to do in Sioux Center then and 2) what a funny movie. (They use this song when Owen Wilson's character is on his downward stint of crashing weddings by himself and Rachel McAdams' character is planning her wedding to douchehole. Not very fitting, actually, but still a gorgeous song.)

Today, for the first time and for whatever reason, I heard this song as a guy watching the lovely girl sleeping next to him in the morning. And he regards the sun rising out the window and he regales his thoughts, regales the girl, with this moment of meditation. And joy. I'm awake, you're still sleeping, the sun will rise like yesterday.
And maybe he's not all that clear or as completely self-assured about it all. Everything that we are now is everything we can't let go. Oh it's gone forever, far away... I hope tomorrow is like today. Somebody stop me - is there anything more beautiful than the affirmation of going through the risks and possibilities of human drama with someone? This will change everything, we're putting our emotions and maybe our existing friendship at risk... we may end up hating each other... let's keep doing this. I hope we do this tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and the next.

What I think happened, initially, was the tone of the music - the bass line especially - set me to think it was a song at night, wandering around thinking about that girl who, assured and at peace and not staying up, like the guy, thinking over and over again about the one brief run-in they had together. It's a nice song to listen to at night, but maybe it will be a song about the morning, when she's still sleeping and she looks like she's comfortable, that she feels safe. She feels safe next to the guy who's so happy, and dumbfounded, that he wakes up to make sure it's real.

And the music continues on, escalating, and the strum of the guitar celebrates with the quick drum roll, the classy piano, the na na na nas and there's a circus in the mind of the guy, the lucky guy, and he slowly lays back down and watches the sun wake the earth up out the window.

I'm awake, you're still sleeping
The sun will rise like yesterday
Everything that we are now
Is everything we can't let go
Oh its gone forever, far away
I hope tomorrow is like today
Don't you go away tomorrow
I don't think I could handle that
You're probably dreaming that you're flying on
Then you start to fall
But then you rise
and shine forever
Don't go away
I hope tomorrow is like today


Listen to this, listen to it again, listen to it at night and in the morning. And then listen to Simon and Garfunkel's Wednesday Morning 3 AM.

-Ben Kweller, apparently, had a hand in writing the song. That is neat.

Why not?

Honestly, reader, I think about this blog a lot and, when things happen to me during the day, I feel I want to write about it here. My sister asks me what I talk about when I talk to my girlfriends (she thinks I have tons of them; she is hilarious) and I do my best to answer, before turning the question on her and, like the sly high-schooler she is, she says she doesn't know. I talk to my mom for the second time since she left for Korea (she gets back on Tuesday) and she's having a good time, enjoying the weddings and looking forward to coming back and would I please make sure the house is vacuumed and everything. And the very, very few moments (really) when I feel it would be nice to be in a relationship. And no, it's not because Pipshake and Jess/Kate (and the whole rest of campus) flaunt it around. Even though they do. It's because this is one crazy semester. And a lot of things are easier when you have the one specific person that you're supposed to depend on. I hesitate even to write this for fear of undermining the beautiful people that I DO depend on. Please, beautiful people, do not feel that I take you for granted or that this is a cry of feeling neglected. I'm talking about the one, specific fallback person. During this busy semester, with friends running around like ants and being gone for days at a time, having a constant, one constant would be something to depend on. Really, my most favorite people are missing from my life for days at a time. This, of course, is probably mostly my fault... but I hope I distracted you, dear reader, by making you wonder if I'm talking about you. (Am I?)
It's 5 am. I'm holed up in the office. I stole the reading for my first class in four hours, but I don't think I'll be able to do it. I should get a few hours of sleep so I can wake up in time to start the week right. Betsy and I are going to have pomegranate and tea before our first class starts. Yes, Katy. I know the pomegranate is the most romantic fruit you could ever share with a girl. Right? Right?! Absolutely.

"A boy can be two, three or four people but a man is only one. He murders all the rest."

I've been saying that to myself for a month now, since I read it in Canadian Literature. More next time.

A quick shout-out to my biznitches of the magnificent production of Urinetown. And a deep, heartfelt thank you to everybody involved. So very proud of you, and so very thankful. More thoughts, and images, from that later.

It's economics

We're reviewing the exam we took last Friday and I'm catching bits and pieces of what I put down in the explanations the professor has been giving. This is good.
And still, I am bored.
To the far left corner, a bunch of American boys huddle together. They are all wearing black caps and whisper to each other the most.
Well, not the most. The person who whispers the most is also to my left. A guy, a curly blond California-haired-but-he's-really-from-Wisconsin guy, smiling and poking and fawning over the girl next to him. She's married, dude. Calm the stalker down.
The genius engineer guys, and one of their girlfriends, sit two rows ahead of me. They are tall, gaunt, lanky and ask very good questions.
I've the Grand Archives in my head. It'll put my walking to a sway, my tired scowl to a blissful grin. People will not know exactly what is going on, but they will see it in my stride.
This morning, I thought about God. Most mornings during the week, actually, I think about God. Now that I've thought it and written it, I realize I never would have expected to have those moments in the mornings. This is also good.
I really don't mind Economics class. I really don't - I have a huge respect for the professors and students who have these basic principles down.
But I need to get out of here.
Paul, David, I don't know that I have a ride out to Chicago. A lot of people don't and you would think we could band together and get going. I think and thought so too. And maybe something still will turn up.
But I need to get out of here.
Trains are expensive and, anyway, we need to get to Omaha to board. Yesterday the ATM declared my account in the negative. Yesterday was Sunday, so I'm still good if I get to the bank and deposit some cash today. I don't know that I'll have time. Reader, please read the pained enthusiasm I have for the opportunity to ride a train but, maybe I'm growing up, it's just not feasible. It would work out. Omaha to Chicago and then Grand Rapids, to Chicago, to Omaha for $200, but I don't have $200.
For today, for the next few hours anyway, I'll be on the lookout for encouragement. Maybe it will happen in Canadian Lit. (my next class). It's happened before.

Today, I met a skinny dog with a ratty tail. Tomorrow, I hope to meet his owners and exchange pleasantries or use my bike chain as a whip. I prefer the latter - we could really use a mascot and she's a sweet, sweet dog.

Is Cinnamon a better name for a dog than Ginger?

Today, I spent a little more than two hours emailing club leaders for clarification and it was actually very fun. When we ended our meeting last weekend, we were on a productivity high. I hope that stays and that it bleeds onto the leaders. Tomorrow, I hope to receive some responses.

Today, I still have Economics homework to do - reading and questions. The questions take a large amount of time and effort, like working through a tricky set of math problems. Some people enjoy the sense of accomplishment, the fact that they are "doing it correctly" and, so, it all wraps up neatly, as it should. I will never understand those people. Just kidding, I love you weirdos. Tomorrow, I will hand it in and get more of a high from completion in a class that I'm becoming gradually more interested in. I don't understand how so many huge companies can tank, how we can "bail them out" with obscene amounts of money that we don't even have... and, except for fleeting conversations, not be affected by it all.

I don't understand how anybody, even in their anger and their shame, can leave or give up or abandon. This could, and does, mean a lot of things... but it all comes back to stories I want to (re)read and stories I want to humiliate myself with by trying to write.

The cilantro-lime chicken salad at Lao Unity Church; watching auditions on large screen and yelling back and forth with co-casting directors; deliberate and brief embraces upon the slaughter of the day; the bittersweet glimpse of a friend and hesitating to continue on to different places and different activities.

EDIT
The Econ assignment is 10 essay/explanation questions and thirty-two (32) (a shit load) of reading. I was recently a fresh-faced, ambitious young punk. You have, before you, a broken little boy. I am leaving! I am leaving!

10 43 AM - Meet with Pip and Todd Montsma about potential Signet design ideas. Wonder, again, how Pip and I both managed to take on another task for the year. Leaf through and discuss design magazines and portfolios. Get excited.

11 24 AM - Back at the apartment. Shower, brush, deodorant, q-tip. Read and return emails. Sit and calm down for a few minutes, focusing on the day. Make lunch and eat silently, focusing on the day. Use a bell pepper that is losing its crunch, but not its flavor.

1 07 PM - See Jake, Dee, Joel P. and, again, Pip at the Grille area. Sit and congregate calmly, which is nice. Laugh, with Dee, at how cute Jake and Piper are. Todd stops by to hand us two design magazines that he wanted to show us earlier. Decide which one is cooler and which one, though more sleek, is less exciting. Piper takes the cooler one. Curse the power of girls and their puppy dog eyes. Sit with Dee for a few minutes.

1 33 PM - Lumber up the stairs in the campus center to the President's office. Inform the nice receptionist lady that I have a meeting with Provost Hoekstra. Feel important. She allows me in and I pull out my camera. Make small talk with Provost Hoekstra. Feel important. Snap action/mid-work photos of Provost for Diamond. Work to find interesting angles. Overhear a phone conversation where Provost makes fun of my going barefoot for the day. Plot revenge on Provost.

2 13 PM - Read more, respond to emails. Say to self, "Caffeine would be nice." Notice cute girl looking at me like I am an insane boy.

2 16 PM - Sit with Paul, Mark, Jessica and Becca at Grille. Try out Paul's stalker lens and feel like a creep. Notice discoloration on someone's neck and almost lose it. Write down someone's social security number.

2 21 PM - The Bean is open and Carmela is brewing a pot of coffee. Locate mug, sit down and pull one of seven magazines out of bag (PASTE). Continue with the visual design, composition thoughts - read about violence and Stanley Kubrick's A CLOCKWORK ORANGE.

2 23 PM - Curse self for not including Stanley Kubrick's A CLOCKWORK ORANGE in this semester's Faith and Film roster.

2 24 PM - Curse self for not making any progress for this semester's Faith and Film roster card.

2 26 PM - Emily Stam gets all up in my business (a good thing) and talks about the kids she TAs. Listen and advise her to get them in trouble. Realize that I should never be a teacher, but that it would be really fun.

2 42 PM - Walk to Mac Lab in the most beautiful weather imaginable. Linger out, in the sun, before having to enter the cold, sterile Mac Lab.

2 45 PM - Curse self for having forgotten the card reader for digital camera and not being able to unload photos from full card. Write up quick blog entry explaining how to upload photos on Photo III class blog.

2 52 PM - Back to Bean, more people; Voss, Scott, Jenny, Piper (yes, again). Ask Voss, "If I get fries from the Grille, will you have some?" Laugh at his enthusiastic response.

2 54 PM - Yell at Evan to audition for film. Start indoor hackey-sack with Scott.

3 11 PM - Begin outdoor hackey-sack with Scott, Dee and (surprise!) Nathan Smith. Almost face-plant on pavement.

3 16 PM - Social Work major extraordinaires Renae and Lisa pull up and we head to have conversations with elderly people in nursing home. Car ride with Iron & Wine.

3 32 PM - Listen to a sweet, old lady say some startling things. Wonder about potential photo assignment. Wonder what it's like to live in a nursing home.

4 54 PM - Back to campus, head to Philippines over Christmas Break meeting for video production. See everyone from previous video classes (reunion!) and some underclassmen. Get excited for traveling to capture video footage and eat. Yes, Piper is there.

5 28 PM - Run, with Pip, to Justice Matters potluck. Pip informs me that she sees me more than Jake does. Feel grateful that Jake is a gentle soul and not a violent one. Feel envious of Jake's gentle soul and of Piper's fiance. Meet people, lots of people I don't see enough. Feel vindictive and, later, petty for not going over to say hi to friend. Attempt to defend own asshole behavior by citing business and not wanting to interrupt conversation. Feel like a complete jackass. Meet Jess. Piper and I realize we don't have our scripts with us.

5 29 PM - Pip and I ride the most daring bike ride of our lives to retrieve our scripts and a fork.

5 31 PM - Roll back in, eat and fellowship and congregate and man, these are good beans.

6 05 PM - Move on to conference room with video team. Read through scripts. Laugh and cry at how depressing the film ends. Prep. for auditions tomorrow. Begin to feel wear on mind.

7 16 PM - Take break from script editing. More caffeine.

7 31 PM - Sit at balcony with Jeremy at Mike Haley talk in Beej. Struggle to stay awake/attentive.

7 51 PM - Move to lower level, with camera and snap photos for Diamond. Get to sitting right up front center, with Linsay V., several rows ahead of everyone else.

8 46 PM - Shake speaker's hand. Thank him for coming. Ask if I can take some close-up photos. He asks if he has to look at the camera. Resist the initial impulse to say, "Hell no!" See, up close, how ragged and tired he is.

9 03 PM - See Piper, for the seventeenth time, on the way back to the Campus Center.
Goodnight Piper and Jake! Big hug and manly handshake. Student Symposium with Robert Taylor about club funding distribution.

9 24 PM - Ask, midway through working out the numbers, what Dordt clubs are, officially, supposed to exist for.

Midnight - Having have divided up clubs into categories (secret categories) leave meeting feeling good and productive and ambitious about Student Symposium with Jess and Dave, though we have not finished the task.

12 07 AM - See Mark Bylenga in Bean. Ask to speak with him sometime about Comedy League (for business purposes). Feel important. Wonder how Mark's day went. Wave to Robin in the corner. Slap roommate extraordinaire Matty's hand. Wonder how his day went.

12 29 AM - Work through another load of emails. Answer questions Kyla is asking for Diamond article about feature film.

1 16 AM - Read boggling Econ. assignment about probability and likelihood.

1 54 AM - Reply to email and do best not to be a lecturing prick to someone who happens to be younger than I, but is likely much smarter than I. And stronger.

2 01 AM - Door to lab locks and scares the shit out of my ears.

2 03 AM - Write up and print out audition sheets for actors to fill out.

2 09 AM - Realize that I'm majoring in Writing and decide to log on blog. Say "log on blog" out loud and cackle like a psychopath. Begin to lose feeling in left leg.

To: His highness, King Mohammed VI, of Morocco.
Re: The blogger in Morocco who will be in jail for two years for raising thoughts and questions on the King's policies.
Message: "[Your] charitable habits [are] encouraging a culture of dependency."

the story

-

In high school, the indications were chronic nosebleeds and an eye twitch. The left one. And when you're young enough, which is most of us, you feel angry at your body for losing, for tapping out from - damn! - high school and a job at Subway. What in the world? We should take care of ourselves, of our bodies. I know that, but I know I'm not the only angry one.
She plays soccer, and basketball. Strong. Worn leather. And a big heart of laughter and honesty. But she's falling apart physically. She has been for years now, but she still makes the team and the rigorous daily practices and I picture it like she's running towards the enemy side, screaming at the top of her lungs, and stones, spears, bullets flying at her, tearing her apart, but she trounces along. She always makes it through and destroys them, the bastards. And though I know her by her laughter, I can't imagine how angry she gets.
I noticed just a minute ago that a small tendon in my right elbow tightens at moments like these. Half past one in the morning, the looming, ominous hum of an empty computer lab, the cold, sterile feel that you only get now, deep inside in your lungs and, as Frost wrote, miles to go before I sleep.
I'd like to tell my tightening elbow, my ever bouncing legs and every person I haven't been a friend to today that I have protest. What a big day! There has never been a day as enormous as this one! The only day that comes close to this day, the only possible runner-up, as been yesterday. It was Tuesday! How can this be? I remember waking up just a few minutes ago, rubbing my eyes and cracking my back, thinking of Advanced Expository Writing. The essays that were crafted and beginning to remember what I remember of them. And now it is sixteen hours later, in an instant.
They've hinted that, as an adult, your friends become some people you used to know and you work with your friends. The people in your world are married to you, have sprung from your loins, have paid your way into maturity or work in the cubicle next to you. And while I vow to never have such a job, such an existence (not that I could get/hold one anyway) I fear my tightened fingers slipping away from yours, you who are not in my classes
or sleeping in the bunk above mine
or rotating the supper duties from day to day
or have class, conveniently, next to mine so it is inevitable that I see you.
And I miss you because we were, at one undefined time and place in our lives, such great friends. We were pals. And I remember being so thrilled when I could see that you, you too, were excited to see me!
It doesn't always move as consciously as this, but it often moves as naturally as this or perhaps even more so. My legs will bounce and my eyes will ache tomorrow. Blood will spill away and be gone from me, but the God has been gracious enough to provide more. And if he takes it away on the next day, then he takes it away on the next day. Thank you. Thank you, for the exhaustion in the meantime. But God, while I'm here, help me to cause my elbow to tighten for the goodness, and benefit, of friends with large hearts of laughter,
for those in my ever closing and shifting world,
and specially for those, for you, the somebody I used to know.

-That's Mitch Hedberg up there in triumph. OK, for those of you who don't know him you should, because I just spent fourteen minutes reading his quotes online and giggling.

-I'm partially giggling because I've been dizzy all day and, also, I'm tired. But mostly because of Mitch.

-Tomorrow... today, I learn to bake. That will definitely add to my eligibility points and my mum will be one small step closer towards grandkids. She is dreaming. Sorry ladies.

-Been watching a lot of films lately, which is a joy of irresponsible magnitude, but I've found that it is VERY difficult to craft an ending to a film. The third and final act and all that.

-Junebug. Amazing, amazing performances.

-The Royal Tenenbaums. I sing along and laugh/cry the whole time through.

-What's Eating Gilbert Grape. Such good writing.

-I lost my lens cap. Frick. And it wasn't at the info. desk lost and found, but the girl was helpful and not annoyed at all, though I imagine it was nearing the end of her shift. Also, she knew my name and I'm pretty sure we didn't shake hands, but I was rubbing my eyes earlier and my hand smelled like girl. OK, that sounds like a creepy thing to notice and blog about, but it's so completely true and Oh Man What a Distraction to my Evening Reads. Friggin' hand with girl smell on it.

-There's a lot of lady mentioning in this post...

-A bunch of athletic-looking kids had a grill party behind Covenant earlier. They drove their truck up the curb and wore cowboy hats and looked like they had a good time.

-Does anyone have a swivel chair they want to get rid of? And/or a soft bench?

-OK OK. This is a good one though. There was one part of my dream last night where my dream girlfriend, well the first one (there were TWO OF THEM! No, they were not anybody that I know in awake world. I swear.) anyway, dream girlfriend number one and I are being chased by some huge, thick-necked, unitard-sporting character... maybe her crazy old brother... but dream girlfriend number one was already like twenty-seven (this, we discussed earlier on and it was a super witty and flirty conversation... yeah, I'm pretty good at that when I'm asleep). Anyway, he's chasing us and all of a sudden, I man up and hold my ground and let him break through me all Hulk-style while dream girlfriend number one gets away. Basically, I took a charge from freaking Alan Kloosterhoff (Happy Birthday, buddy!) I remember this actually hurting me, but - this is the coolest part - like a video game, I was a awarded +5 CHIVALRY POINTS. There I lay, broken and bloody on the floor with a footprint on my face and in colorful, bold text above me shines +5 CHIVALRY POINTS! No, you don't get it. Completely worth it. Supposedly, that defeats Unitard Man because that's all I remember of him and... well, how cool is that? So, you know, expect me to award myself Chivalry Points... ladies.

-Oh hey, Lise. Helping you down the ledge after the tree house earlier today? CHIVALRY POINTS!

-Some of the reading tonight was from the Freakonomics book about incentives and crunching the numbers to basically catch cheating teachers and sumo wrestlers and office workers. It was actually very gloomy and depressing; being able to depend on society to give in to their greed and to corrupt is one of the worst things to dwell on. BUT! Paul Feldman, Socrates and Adam Smith argue that 87% of the time, society resists evil.

-Dream girlfriend number two was more my age, and she was awesome... why did I get two awesome dream girlfriends last night? It's such a stark and insulting contrast to my awake situation. Which is zero. Strange... because dream girlfriend number one and I didn't have any falling out.

-It's fun to see how many places on campus you can screen films on. How many projector-equipped rooms you can access.

-Matty says I have it bad for Norah Jones. What Matty says is right. Correctamundo.

-It should be stated here, in writing, that I feel like a total Unitard for not knowing the info. desk girl's name. Not because she distracted me with girl smell, and it's not like I even think I'm supposed to know who she is... like we've spoken before, but well come on, she was really helpful and courteous. After watching a film like What's Eating Gilbert Grape, it was really nice to speak with someone so composed and genuinely willing to help.

-Dear high school Alvin... remember when someone jokingly called those girls lesbians and they got ultra-pissed? Dude, you can call girls lesbians in college and they'll giggle and agree and brag about it. It's... its'... I don't even know how to describe it. Enjoy the prom, ya nerd.

I am writing this on a computer in the newly built Sioux Center Public Library (hold for applause). I remember spending a few evenings freshman year calling Sioux Centerites and asking for library funds. The most I had managed to squander, from one person, was a hundred dollars. That's a lot of money and God bless them for helping out the library like that, but I can't imagine how much it cost to put this building up. It's a very open space with a fireplace and semi-vaulted ceilings... it's no Pella library, but it's an impressive space. Brick columns and squared carpet... surprisingly sparse shelving, but plenty of shelving nonetheless. Oh, and there are computers labeled, "Sioux Center Public Library CARD CATALOG ONLY," that you can go on and check your email and blog on. Looking back on the libraries of my life - elementary school, Calvin library, the one in Cascade and Hulst Library at Dordt - evokes a sense of stillness and, maybe even, solemnity. Not a hissy librarian looking down her nose at you, saying, "Quiet child! People are trying to read!" But more of a 15th century French library where robes and staffs and penises are required to enter. Most of you know my enthusiasm for robes, staffs and having a penis, but what I'm trying to say is that (and part of this can likely be blamed for the outdoor construction) there's an awful lot of noise traveling throughout the space. Click at the circulation desk, hammering outside, woman shuffling through the Kingsbury four shelves over... and, of course, the cell phone rings. The lady rifles through her purse to find it and speaks to her child? Instead of the quiet din of undisturbed silence, there's the looming growl of computers and copy machines humming to establish their existence and dominion.
But at least there are people here, where the books are.

Oh, and classes at Dordt start in two days. It's interesting to see all the happy freshmen, euphoric from starting their first of four years of sleep overs. Live it up, ya rascals.

They pulled up to the curb in a dusty Plymouth with the windows rolled down. The mother driving was framed by the cracks in the windshield, which were placed in such a precise and, seemingly, deliberate way. Her face sat perfectly in the center, in the bull's eye, of the target. Was it from a rock? A baseball bat? And, for that matter, were the children - wide-eyed and nappy-haired in the backseat - present at the time of the aggression? It was a warm evening towards the end of summer and the store had its air humming all day long. But they merely sat in the car - mother, father and daughters - for a few minutes, occasionally speaking, and smirking, at one another before pulling away. They had stopped for no apparent reason and they were now headed back from where they came, bounding over the heavy blacktop and causing the heat to stir.

-

The current rate of daily activities is some sort of outrageous. The semester hasn't even started and, physically, I'm feeling it. Jess has been eye-twitching, from nervosity, for the better part of a week. I predicted, for the upcoming year, that my social habits will be very waning in comparison to previous semesters. It's a good thing I'm not engaged, innit? And all the ladies say, "YEAH!" Oh, you crazy ladies.

The darkroom will require some assembly. As will the stereo. And all the other boxes (mostly mine) sitting unpacked in the apartment. It's good to see people milling around campus again - even if the campus is torn up with recently-initiated construction and nobody really knows how to mill about anymore. Liz Brand was the first person, that I know as a friend, that I saw back on campus from having spent the summer away from Sioux Center. Hooray for Liz Brand! You go, Liz Brand!

I found myself surprisingly angry today. For no specific reason... which I took to be a bad sign of... something. There were a handful of things that went against plan or preference, but nothing that should have risked an asshole's behavior to the parents (didn't happen) or a sudden screaming, to myself, in the car (which did happen and it was odd and oddly satisfying... and a bit unnerving).

Travel was, and is, a blessing. It's good to be reminded, again, of how lovely and funny some people are - to see that they come from similar family members and places.
But you're all coming back now (except for some and you will be missed), so let's start the semester of me-not-seeing-you-very-much and get it over with. Not that second semester will be any better... gosh, this is getting to be a bummer.

Rob says you love, love, love
then you die.
I've watched him while sleeping and seen him crying
with closed eyes.
And you're not happy, but you're funny.
And I'm tripping over my joy.
But I just keep on getting up again.

We could be daytime drunks if we wanted-
we'd never get anything done that way, baby.
And we'd still be ruled by our dueling perspectives,
and I'm not my perspective
or the lies I'll tell you every time.

-A bit of one of the most beautiful songs I know.
The Absence of God by Rilo Kiley. It is lonely and lovely and, as it goes on, it lifts the veil of depression. I promise.

Until I see you on campus.

There's a cricket hiding somewhere in the downstairs bathroom. He's small and he frightens easily, but only for a little bit at a time. I can only assume he is small, in comparison to, say, a triceratops, because I haven't seen him ever... though this is the fourth night that I've tried looking. Also, he is loud. That little fucker knows how to play. Chances are that he has settled inside of some forgotten horn and the acoustics are only helping him. Still, very impressive.

A list of things that (momentarily) frighten little Chang:

turning the light on
turning the light off
rolling out of bed
loud groans
checking the time on a cell phone
flipping the pillow over
vampires


Today brought more accomplishments, more mental listing and anxieties. A fun surprise is that the Greyhound station lady misunderstood me when I said that I'd like to arrive in Minneapolis on Thursday. She scheduled the ticket for Wednesday and I noticed it, for the first time, early this morning. The summer time. Hooray!

Have we ever the time or the self-discipline to take care of everything we promised? For that matter, is it acceptable to promise little? To promise less? Is it the wiser lifestyle to focus our ambitions to a handful of goals? Can one be happy with eighteen credits plus additional carry-on baggage? "It's too dangerous! It's too easy to be consumed!"

Some of us are more prone to addiction. Sometimes we view the people in our lives as distractions. Some things are actually worth doing alone. Isn't it weird that too much sleep is bad for you? Sometimes, you might need to stay in bed for a long time. Otherwise, jump out and put on your glasses.

Thanks for stories and encouragement, time alone, going to Michigan so I can take the stereo, selling spicy carrots, enthusiasm for the Olympics and showing me things that I would appreciate.

Thinking in italics

This morning, Matt kicked me awake and I sat fighting my eyelids while he ate a bowl of cereal. Then we went to work, loaded into the back of a large pickup truck, and journeyed carefully to Sioux Falls to set up for market. We left Sioux Center at 4 40 AM.

None of you believe me. Matt doesn't either, I'm sure. But I swear we did. Market ran until one in the afternoon when late lunch shoppers dwindled down and the heat became just too harsh for the tomatoes and cucumbers.

Imagine how it went - I'm not going to write anymore tonight. There's an article on the Dalai Lama tonight and greeting in the morning. Thanks for poems on postcards, sporadic and lengthy voicemails, the people who took home twenty pounds of tomatoes and Elliott Smith.

My lightning bolts a glowin', I can't see where I am goin'

It's 9 42 pm on a dreadful, muggy Sunday evening in Sioux Center. The thermometer reads a little past 85 F and if you stick your head out the window, your glasses fog halfway up the lens. Yikes. We haven't spent a night with the air conditioner on - the neighbors do. My bedroom window opens right up to their machine roaring all night. Tonight, ours might be on too. I took a short nap out on the deck and when I came inside to use the bathroom, I saw that sweat had soaked through the pits of my shirt. My mind is caffeinated and spinning. The problem is that, today, I sporadically read about gardening and food, looked through some professional photography portfolios (online), began a bread, really wanted to watch a movie(s), and contemplated the building of a darkroom. I sat down with my notebook to try and outline a film and send off the notes to Piper for her consideration. I'm sure if I watched a film, I could get in that mind. Capote and caffeine should be more than enough stimulation. Black coffee is comforting. Yesterday we had pasta with tomatoes, leeks, chives and basil from the garden. Today we had pasta with a store-bought jar of sauce. One of them tasted like cafeteria. (Also today, BLTs with Golden Boy tomatoes, New Zealand spinach, leeks. Always add leeks.) It's important to have a workspace. I finally transplanted the pallet of hollyhocks that we got from garden weeeeeeeeeeks ago. They were still green, still reaching out but unable to grow any taller. Now they are. Sorry it took so long guys. That's the pretty cool thing about plants (and a dog, for that matter). For the most part, they don't hold grudges or run out of patience so long as they have what they need. They're hoping, with every day, to be put in the earth, always come running when you open the door. Also, it's completely marvelous that a thin plant about eighteen inches tall can develop a bulbous bell pepper the size of a snow globe ALL from the rain, the earth and the sun. And, at its zenith, it is snapped off and consumed by consumers. The plant can no longer nourish and develop its fruit - it just goes on developing more, without tears, until the seasons send it back down to the earth to nourish other plants. Some fucker, with some foreign change, has my DVD of Thank You For Smoking. Which is the angry way of saying I can't find it. In other news, the heathens at Hy-Vee were selling Broken Flowers for two dollars fifty. Philistines. Americans. I asked my mom if the Shims (Midwest chapter) could go to Italy once I graduate. You know, once our lives are over because we're all grown up and stuff. She laughed.
"What would we do in Italy?"
"You know, eat and stuff."

So, in short, today has been about food and a little about photography. After this film, maybe that will change. I think we're watching Capote, Punch Drunk Love or Art School Confidential.

An excess of tomatoes and who says carrots have to be orange?

The tomatoes are coming in. I suppose they actually arrived last week (or maybe even the week before) but today I stood surrounded by buckets of red, orange, yellow, green and splattered heirlooms (the best ones!) and my jaw dropped.
"Henry! This is a lot of tomatoes."
Henry is Harriet's hubby, her words, and he comes in on Thursdays to help with CSAs. He is a large man, shouting greetings upon seeing you and laughing often. He stood up, smiled and shook his head. We have many, many tomato plants on the farm and, still, it's pretty amazing how much food they can produce. Duh, stupid-frick Alvin. There will be more tomatoes. Oh yes, says Henry, there will be tomatoes.
So I picked, washed, packed beets, among other normal Thursday things to do on the farm (ask Matty K. if you don't know) and wiped, inspected, packaged the tomatoes. I did so standing next to the trailer that had every space filled with garlic, the gigantic, ever-whirling industrial fan setting them to dry and cure. Yep. Garlic, wiping down lovely tomatoes, Alyssa pulling leeks from the cooler every now and then, Matty washing and wrapping up basil, Harriet pulling in with green peppers, white peppers, PURPLE peppers. EGGPLANTS! I thought of a hundred cheesy love songs to sing to the symphony of flavors and aromas, dancing about there on the garden. Me, the deeply-tanned Asian, wearing a hairnet over his unbridled mane, cheerily wiping down a Cherokee Chocolate - the best name for a tomato variety ever - and (softly, but passionately) singing Barry Manilow.

No jolts, no surprises
No crisis arises - the years go along as they should
It's all very nice, but not very good...

Annnnd I'm ready to take a chance again,
ready to put my love on the line with you
Been living with nothing to show for it,
you get what you get when you go for it,
and I'm ready to take a chance again with you.

Yes, when you are moved to simultaneously take pictures and cook, it is a good thing. I've read that they go bonkers in Italy when the first tomato harvest comes in. They gather and celebrate and speak loudly with lavish hand motions and drink wine and play music and hug and laugh and cook! I need you to help me!

Or anyway, I hope you are well.
Eat a good tomato in the simplest way you can, wherever you are.
And here I'll be, slices of red, orange, yellow, green, pink, black and swirly colored
with basil, olive oil, salt and vinegar.

If we get spinach after the weekend, BLTs. (Sioux Centerites, let's pack 'em up and go fishing!)

Love!

These, four bags of green beans and more cucumbers than I could comfortably carry by myself are the perks from this week. Getting a farmer's tan is fun, but fitting in photo and video is a sleepless challenge.

Quick update: Mom, David and, now, Dad are all home. Dad arrived last night and is fighting a thirteen hour jet-lag. Paul came and went last week with eight Youth Group kids from home. It was good having a bunch of Asian kids romping around the living room. More Asians, even, than the Vander Plaats family. Take that!

Jess and I were approached and offered a job as a video production company today. Pretty cool. A rough shooting schedule was discussed, documents were passed out, business cards were exchanged... ...well, Jess and I received business cards, but it was still cool. Piper, you're missing all the magic! Let Jake plan the wedding from here out and be a part of this!

Is there a good place, around Sioux Center, to go fishing?

The Youth Group kids went camping in Colorado before they stopped here. I was just looking at some of their photos on facebook and I was drooling. I don't know, or I forget, which National Park they went to, but it is gorgeous. It makes me sad, looking at the calendar for the rest of summer and not finding a spot to be SPONTANEOUS and DANGEROUS and THRILLING and packing up to camp for a week or so... there is the farm, where I am absent enough already, a Dordt video, a Lao video, the darkroom, my da.
But I do have a fishing pole...
and a year's fishing license...

And seriously, it's the summer time. Let's go! Let's sleep outside!

My dad just came down munching on a handful of blueberries and said he was hungry. Mmmm blueberries.

Facebook tells me I have 363 friends. My brothers went to a wedding this summer with 2,000 + people. That's crazzzzzy, I said. I don't think I'd even have 363 people at my wedding. I better marry someone with tons of friends. Friends that don't suck or are boring. ALSO, she better want to go camping in the summer time.

Every morning there were planes,
the shining blades of pagan angels
in our fathers' skies.