the end of a month

Frank's House, where I'll be holing up for the burgeoning
ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!

June rolls to a close, and a bittersweet month it’s been, though far more bitter than sweet. John’s dad passed away to cancer, and Corey’s mom was diagnosed with cancer (but is doing pretty well with chemo). Ams and Josh broke up, which isn’t as extreme as losing someone (or the threat of losing someone) to cancer, but losing someone you’ve lived with and loved for so long is an emotional hell no one wants to go through. But despite all the bad things June has brought, there have been high points: John & Brandy’s wedding, Rob’s visit from Portland, and of course Corey had a kickass time in Europe (he’s back and sitting across from me at The Anchor; he’s journaling and I’m blogging and we’re both drinking coffee; we’re like two peas in a pod right now). July has its fortunes of promise: Dad and I will be camping in Red River Gorge, my cousin Addison is getting married, and DYLAN RETURNS FROM AFRICA! My excitement cannot be contained. 

One of my ambitions for July is finishing 1 Peter 2.11-3.7 in my devotional-slash-bible-study thingie on 1 Peter. Another ambition is that I can keep up with this whole “quitting smoking” thing. I’ve made significant progress in June, more than I anticipated; I can say with confidence I’ve drastically cut back on how much I smoke. Now the time for the plunge has come: maybe at the end of July I can claim “smoke free” status, but I’m sure it won’t be without a fair share of mishaps, depression, and irritability. Withdrawal will be a bitch, of that I’m certain. But I don’t want to keep pushing women away with my tobacco scent, and nor do I want my future children to watch their father wither down to nothing as tobacco-induced cancer shrivels my body to a mere pasty skeleton.

[june meditations]

6.4 I smoked a cigar in the woods and was honest with God: I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, my life all but in shambles. I feel on the edge of a breakdown, tiptoeing along a precipice. I don't want this empty life anymore. Pursuing pleasure, knowledge, success, anything but God's kingdom is emptiness. This kind of life isn't for me, it doesn't fit right, it isn't my home. Others make it their own and revel in it, but I can't do that. I've tasted an intimate life with God, and I miss it. I've grieved God's Spirit, but his Spirit hasn't abandoned me. Although we be faithless, he is faithful. The Spirit reminds me of who I really am: God's child. I've been wayward, stubborn, and foolish, and it has cost me. But I believe there is yet hope, IF I return to God. Repentance is hard, damned hard, but easier than the lesson learned. I wanted to walk beside Christ again, and I want to become the man he wants me to be. The most beautiful thing is that I don't have to grovel for God's love, or beg for His mercy, or work for His grace. He gives it all lavishly at the first breath of repentance. We're so fortunate to have a Creator like our God.

6.11 "What's holding me back?" It is not I who live, but Christ in me. That's what I want my life to be like. Consumed by the Spirit, transformed into the person God wants me to be, not just a New Creation in name but a New Creation in word and deed. I want people to look at my life, see Christ in me, and marvel; I want to be condemned as a fool for Christ, I want love and the gospel to permeate my being, I want to turn the filthy menstrual rags of my life into priceless white satin. But I feel stuck, unable to move forward, held back; and by what?

(1) SHAME. I keep identifying myself not as a redeemed child of God but according to my sins. I am far from guiltless, a "chief of sinners." I hear that I am a New Creation, and I know that the evil of my past has been dealt with, that I have a new future in Christ, that God has good things in store for me and that he wants to do good things through me. But I can't seem to let go of my past, can't seem to grasp God's forgiveness and grace. I keep thinking, I've fucked up too much, I've gone too far, there's nothing left for me. My shame keeps me from accepting and embracing the good news of the gospel, that I'm not just loved but also liked by God, that he and I are cool and that he has much in store for me, if only I'll receive it.

(II) INSECURITIES. My self-image, you can imagine (given Point 1), is quite skewed. Not only is there insecurity due to shame, but I question my worth as an agent and herald for God's kingdom. If I'm honest, one of the main reasons for not pursuing ministry is due to insecurity: lots of interviews with churches went nowhere, and when interviews did seem promising, in the end I looked too young for any sort of adult ministry, and the coupling of my singleness and youthful looks barred me from youth ministry (and I'm not mad about that, it's a wise decision on the part of churches, just sucks to be on the ugly end of that stick). An awkward, short, pale and funny-looking guy such as myself seems to have no place in ministry; that's for the married folk and the older fellows. It's bullshit, of course, but churches operate as if it were gospel. So I stopped interviewing, decided I'd made a mistake going to CCU to pursue ministry, and consequently found myself lost. No small wonder that's when herbs came into the picture. It's great at making you forget disappointments. Ministry aside, I'm insecure as a child of God, questioning not primarily my worth or value as a minister as I am questioning my worth and value as a Christian. It's shame yet again, keeping me from trying to move forward, convinced that I'm eternally fucked up, that there's no way I can be the person God wants me to be.

Shame & Insecurity keeps holding me back, acting like a wall. And when I feel overwhelmed, it's far too easy to slip back into those old creature comforts. Truly, shame and insecurity keeps me rooted in place. All the while God, I believe, has lots in store for me, but I'm hesitant to "Get Up & Walk." That's what Christ is telling me, the same thing he told the lame men at the pool of Bethsaida: "Get Up and Walk." Like the lame man, I've been healed, and Christ is telling me to start acting like it. Am I too content to get up and move, so stuck in my own issues that I refuse to pick up my mat and walk about town? "I'm a lame man. Sure, Christ has healed me. But I've identified as a lame man for so long, I'm not sure I can do it!" But the lame man was no longer lame, and he took up his mat and walked. He's an example I must emulate.

6.20 Shame and Insecurities indeed play their role in holding me back, but a third barrier would be FEAR, and a specific fear: the fear that I'll die young and soon, that my life's basicaly over and I'm just waiting to die as my young body's consumed by cancer or some incurable disease. Spawned by the events of May last year, this paranoia came out of nowhere, staining my life. Panic attacks, sleepless nights, overwhelming stress: I felt crippled, unable to function. Slowly things got better, and I was able to use rational thoughts to counter the irrational ones. I KNOW I'm healthy, I KNOW I probably have a long life ahead of me; tests have been done showing, scientifically, that I'm doing quite well. But the fear, you see, is still there. A year ago I thought I'd be dead within the year; a year later, I'm still fearing the same thing. The fear poisons my attempts to inaugurate change, for if the fear is legitimate, then what's the point? "Why start Graduate School and leave my family to pay off the loans on top of funeral costs? Why stop smoking and why start running and biking if I'll be dead soon? Why work on myself to be a good husband and a good father if I won't live long enough to taste those gifts anyways? And why even engage in any sort of 'sharing of life' with someone, investing into someone, if they'll just be hurt by my sudden death come the end?" This fear feels immovable, and I'm at its mercies. All I can do, really, is pray; and kill the fear as it raises its ugly head. But resisting yourself is pointless if the fear's legitimate, and my paranoia tells me that's the case. A vicious cycle.

6.23 God has so much for me, if only I take it. My spirituality has been dichotomous between the flesh and the Spirit. I'm driven more by my desires than by the Spirit within me; I make decisions based on MY desires rather than God's. The result is an anemic faith, a malnourished vine bearing dry and wrinkled fruit. This hole in my life, that vacuum from when I started forfeiting prayer, I try to fill with superficial rituals: house church, reading the Bible, elaborate prayers, all meant to try and suave a guilty conscience without risking complete submission and surrender to God, without the potential hurt of having to die to myself and live to Christ. I'm a decent person, sure, but I'm not a New Creation. I've focused so much on conscience-soothing practices that I've neglected the core altogether: union with Christ. Who I am now--a weak, sad, fear-riddled man barely holding on as life's difficulties surmount--isn't the person God wants me to be. He wants me to be a new sort of person, not an upgraded Anthony but a man of God whose real name is written in the Book of Life. He wants me to be consumed by the Spirit, and a man in whom flourishes the fruit of the Spirit, a man not driven by the desires of the flesh (that all-too-common craving for power, pleasure, and prestige--but by the Spirit, a man known for his peace, hope, and joy rather than for his crippling fear, paranoia, and regret. I'm holding myself back from what God has for me by refusing to relinquish control, refusing to surrender totally to the will of God. And why? Oh, the Usual Suspects: the shame, the insecurities, the fear. But let's not forget the doubt: I doubt that God cares for me, and consequently I doubt he'll take care of me. These doubts stem from my College Years, my own little microcosm of the Depression Era, when I sabotaged my own future and blamed God for it, refusing to own up to my responsibility because I couldn't bear to be the one to blame. We love scapegoats, and God's always a prime choice (but an erroneous one). The way out of this life and into the next isn't by way of external changes: I must kneel before the Throne in prayer, spend time listening to God like I did long before, and I must actively and diligntly crucify all that is fleshly within me and embrace life by the Spirit. It is not I who live, but Christ in me. That's the goal. God help me.

6.24 My confidence and trust in God took a plunge in 2006 following losing Julie, and a graver plunge after losing Courtney. The depression, the disappointment, the emotional hell made me question God's disposition towards me. "Why would he do this to me if he cares for me?" I blamed God, but really I was to blame. My own selfish decisions dug the grave I found myself in. Likewise, surveying the past four years, blame for most disappointments lies with ME. My actions and decisions have consequences, and when Self is the motivator, things can get mucky. I ask God, "How long until you do something?" and he counters, "How long until you get your shit together?" (I paraphrase, of course) My mind grew dark towards God and my heart grew cold. I stopped trusting and I stopped praying. But as I've been praying more and more, God has been showing me things. He's showing me that all the while I questioned his love for me and ran off my own steam, he was the one performing damage control. He didn't let me go too far, and he reminded me constantly of who I really am. God's presence in my life is seen in how he's kept me from wandering off completely, how he's sustained me in my darkest moments, how he's always been there drawing me to himself. 

the 29th week

Isaac and Andy @ The Anchor

Monday. DeJuan and I opened. Sarah brought in some more of her homemade oil. Blake came in to get an iced Americano. I spent the afternoon hanging out with him and playing Birds of Steel, and the Loth House centered around hockey—Blackhawks vs. Bruins—and coloring around the perimeter. I did lots of reading Inferno: the blossoming of the Pacific Theater at Pearl Harbor and America’s entrance into the war. I showered and prayed (simultaneously, a multi-tasker!) and this is what I have to say: in my prayers, thoughts, and meditations, I’m always coaxing my heart in terms of trying to “win back” God’s favor. I’m in the rut of seeing myself as an “outsider,” though I never was the sort. Prodigal? Sure! But not “cut off”. All the same, the insecurities, my own refusal to accept that (a) God likes me for some reason and (b) the two of us are “cool” holds me from moving forward. So ensnared to the past, identifying myself along the lines of my past, prevents me not just from seeing that “all is well” but also from doggedly pursuing Christlikeness: after all, wouldn’t I just be “faking it,” since that’s not the “real” me, after all? The reality, though, is that God DOES like me, God DOES care for me, and I don’t have to keep groveling at his feet like a pitiful dog pining for scraps.

Tuesday. An uneventful day: I worked until 1:00, spent the afternoon playing Birds of Steel, and then hiked over to the Loth House to watch some Game of Thrones with Amos. I rounded out the night reading about the early Japanese conquests in the Pacific: Wake, Guam, Singapore and Burma.

Wednesday. Jessie was in town from Illinois, so she and Brittany came over after work and we grabbed dinner at IHOP and spent the evening laughing our asses off in the living room. I told Jessie about all that happened with the Wisconsinite, and she was shocked that she’d suggest trying it again and then call it off in virtually the same breath. No hurt was intended, of course, and though there’s residual anger, not a bone in my body is malevolent towards her. This proves, at least to me, that when I told her I loved her, I meant it. But at this point I’ve come to accept that my dream of being with her was, like all my dreams erally, nothing short of an illusion. Disappointment after disappointment only serves to reinforce the conviction that such shall be the theme of my life, despite my attempts, fanatical at times, to reverse such fortunes.

Thursday. Torrential rains fell all day. I spent the evening playing Birds of Steel, reading about the Japanese conquest of the Philippines and clashes in the Coral Sea and at Midway, the battles of Guadalcanal and Papua New Guinea. The rain kept me from doing anything exciting: as it turns out, my car doesn’t handle the rain very much, and so I had no choice but to cancel on Small Group. My car literally can’t drive in the rain!

Mom’s 49^th Birthday. I was scheduled till 1:45 but left at 12:15 since we were so slow. I spent the afternoon napping and watching TV, grabbed Subway for dinner, and then headed downtown for the VIP soft opening of Bob’s new brewery, Rhinegeist. The place was PACKED. Bob hooked us up with free drinks: I had the Cougar Golden Ale, and it was phenomenal. Luke, the brewer, sure knows his stuff. Amos and I drank our beers with Eric & Tiffany, and Cat and her new boy-toy. Amos and I spent the rest of the night playing Mario-Kart “200 cc,” a game invented by John & Brandy. It messes you up.

Saturday. I ran downtown to deposit my paycheck, and Amos and I grabbed Dusmesh for lunch. Isaac returned to the States from his European escapades, and Amos joined us at the apartment for an evening of chill relaxation and storytelling.

Sunday. Andy, Isaac and I grabbed coffee at The Anchor and Isaac spun all sorts of stories from his time on the other side of the Atlantic. I stopped downtown on my way home to do the USFoods order and spent the afternoon reading and writing. Ams and Traci came by, and we all hung out. People filtered out, and I played 200cc Birds of Steel alone and then went to bed.

[rhinegeist brewery]

Bob’s latest pet project has finally opened its doors, another micro-brewery here in Cincinnati, wedged in west side of Over the Rhine. Featuring four western-style beers, on the hoppier end but not without some milder beers for people like me who don’t like a world full of hops (unless, of course, we’re talking about rabbits), Rhinegeist Brewery and Tap Room is another staple to the ritzed-up Over the Rhine. I don’t find myself in Over the Rhine that often; it’s simply not my crowd. The place floods with preppy kids and college students, hipsters and party boys. None of that is appealing to me. It always makes me laugh when I see college girls taking Instagram pictures downtown, basically their attempt to say, “Look how cool I am, I just went to Bakersfield and then got drinks at 1215!” Their ignorance of the area is obvious with their scant dress and how they swirl their purses at the side. Just a street over, there’s murders, drug deals, and gangs; but hipsters tend to live in their own private world, and such things don’t cross their minds. I enjoyed visiting Rhinegeist for the soft opening, drinking beers with Amos and the Tomeos and Cat and her boyfriend. I ran into lots of people who come through the coffee shop, and that was sort of awkward: it’s weird running into customers outside the workplace, when they’re “people” rather than customers you’ve got to bend the knee to.

on spiritual gifts

some ruins at Corinth

A few days ago I got to talk with an old friend for quite a while. Ever since Kyle got married and moved hours away, we haven’t talked that often; but I like how we can talk as if no time has passed at all. He landed a job far north working at a church, but he says that may not be lasting too much longer. “The church just can’t handle me,” he said, “or I can’t handle the church. One of the two.” He asked me if I was doing anything in a church, and I told him I wasn’t. He was sad to hear I wasn’t teaching, because I’m an “excellent teacher” (his words). I told him about how I tried applying for churches for about a year or two, had dozens of interviews, preached at several places, but nothing ever came of it: “Turns out church folk don’t want a young looking guy preaching or an unmarried young looking guy doing youth ministry.” His advice was keen: “Screw ‘em. It’s part of the effed-up mindset of the church.” 

Just the other day I did one of those “Spiritual Gift” tests online. They’re so much quicker and convenient on the IPhone. My top rating was that of Teacher, no surprise. Kyle’s was that of an apostle, equally not a surprise. Long ago we dabbled in the idea of starting our own low-key house church, him doing the evangelistic stuff, me being the cultivator through teaching within the church. 

Jessie, in town for a bit from Illinois, came over to my place with Brittany at her side, and we grabbed IHOP for dinner and then nestled in the living room talking about all sorts of things, and “spiritual gifts” came up. As we talked, I couldn’t help but think of the Corinthian church and modern-day parallels. The Corinthians esteemed some gifts above others; in their gatherings, speaking in tongues became a litmus test for one’s devotion for God. Paul railed against this, and sadly 2000 years of church history hasn’t changed the landscape. To this day we are apt to vault some spiritual gifts above others; those spiritual gifts which find themselves in the lime-light, such as evangelism, teaching, or preaching, are seen as those “gifts” in which a person’s devotion to God is paramount. I can’t tell you the number of people I met in college, much like myself, who pursued vocational ministry not out of love for God but out of an ambition to prove their devotion. Spiritual gifts operating in the shadows are sidelined so that those who are gifted with, say, compassion, mercy, or intercession are seen as “less spiritual,” somehow a cut below those whose devotion and loyalty to God is evident under the spotlight. 

The reality is that the person whose heart burns for the lost and carves a living in the front line trenches is no more or less a woman of God than the quiet introvert whose heart yearns to provide sustenance and encouragement to the troops several miles behind the front lines. As with the army, so it is with the church: some are called to vocational evangelism, others to be teachers, others to be caretakers of the flock. Making any gift or role superior to another is to fall victim to the same skewed vision of the Corinthians, and such a perception gives birth to pride in those who happen to be called to the “front lines” and insecurity in those who find themselves more at home “behind the scenes.”

the importance of being foolish (VIII)

Chapter Six: The Work of the Kingdom (III)

"The only possible way to move out of our obsessive self-awareness and into the life of Christ is to surrender ourselves and let God be God. Such a surrender involves mining the field of our hearts and searching for this pearl of God's truth hidden deep within us: we belong to God."

"This loving awareness of being the child of the Father moves us out of a life spent pursuing our base desires and frees us to pursue the kingdom of God. We no longer have to live lives bifurcated by our needs. Everything we have and are forms but one self, one heart beating with the lifeblood of Jesus. There can be no firmness of character or consistency of conduct without this courageous self-affirmation. Paul said, 'I no longer lives, but Christ lives in me' (Galatians 2:20). Therein lies transparency."

"So often we are self-moved and self-motivated rather than moved and motivated by the Spirit. When our sense of self is derived from our base desires, we act in ways intended to win approval, avoid criticism, or escape rejection... When we put on the mind of Christ and focus our thinking and behavior on the kingdom of God, we can begin to evaluate our choices, our decisions, and our motivations with new clarity. We move from a place of sleepwalking through our lives and being driven by our most earthbound instincts to a place of living in full consciousness of our position as heirs of the Most High God."

"In some ways, this process of focusing our lives on the mind and work of Jesus involves distancing ourselves from the world around us in an effort to break away from our dysfunctions and addictions. To them we appear foolish and misguided. Thus this kind of focus cannot happen without a daily--even hourly--decision to surrender to the sway of the Spirit."

Manning quotes Ralph Martin: "Very soon in a serious life of faith we must renounce our bondage to darkness, we must be freed from our attachment to those things that hold us back from a pure surrender to the action of God in us. We must live out totally those renunciations we made in our baptism and which we ratify at every Easter Vigil. And it is here we find great difficulty, and meet with the obstacles of selfishness, sensuality, ambition, resentment, pride, fear, etc."

"Our dedication to growth is the single most important determinant of our spiritual development. Without an intense inner commitment, we are little more than dilettantes playing spiritual games. The pearl of great price--the mind of Christ--must be the most treasured value in our lives, and we must seek it in persevering prayer, in sacramental healing, and in the strength of the Christian community. Only then will the miracle of transparency, love, and oneness unfold in our lives... It is God's will that we grow in holiness (1 Thessalonians 4:7), know the truth that makes us free (John 8.:32), and rejoice with a joy that no one can take from us (John 16:22)."

"To think like Jesus is to experience being loved so completely by God that we are existentially incapable of being other than the children of the Father in Jesus Christ. It is overwhelmingly joyful news, and we become overwhelmingly joyful people because of it. We cannot contain it because love by its nature is meant to be shared. We realize that all men and women are loved in the same way but recognize that many are unaware of it. They are locked into loneliness, fear, alienation, apathy, and ignorance. No one has told them of all the things that happened in Jerusalem; they are like sheep without a shepherd."

"Our awareness of God becomes the birthplace of a consuming zeal and a towering desire to 'tell it on the mountain.' We are driven by the Spirit to proclaim by word and example the peace, justice, and forgiving love of our God... It is the loving awareness of God's holiness in Jesus Christ coupled with a deep compassion for redeemed humanity that creates the imperative of Christian mission."

"Everything given up is given back and experienced in a new way through the transforming power of the indwelling Spirit. Security, pleasure, and power are at the service of love and are integrated into the total Christian personality. The spiritual schizophrenia that has absorbed so much time and drained so much strength ceases. An immense amount of energy is now available for the building of the kingdom. The unremitting peace and joy that flows from union with God and God's world are the triumphant fruits of the Holy Spirit and the goal of the Christian pilgrimage."

""[The] worldview of those who see with the eyes and mind of Christ continues to be a wedding between personal spirituality and liberation theology. With Jesus we long for the unity of the global community, the dawning of the day when the lion will lie down with the lamb, East and West will know each other's language, black and white will really communicate, cities of apathy and despair will experience the sunshine of a better life, and all men and women will rejoice in the Spirit that makes us one. The sense of oneness with the created world and our own freedom in the Spirit and awareness that liberation and liberty are the nucleus of the message of Jesus directs our attention to the emancipation of the world. We cannot claim to have the mind of Christ and remain insensitive to the oppression of our brothers and sisters. We cannot stay oblivious to the world's struggle for redemption, freedom, and peace. We know that the good done to the poor... is done to Jesus himself. We know that we must commit ourselves to concrete action on behalf of liberation. There are things to be done."

"The fire of Pentecostal freedom must be cast upon the darkness of oppressive and dehumanizing structures, institutions, and situations. The saving work of Jesus Christ will remain unfinished until it is kindled... As Christians with the mind of Christ, we must ask of our world, 'Who are the oppressors and who are the oppressed?' The Spirit of God may drive us into the desert to sigh, cry, and pray for freedom for all humanity, into the arena of national or local politics to legislate it, into the marketplace to preserve it, into the bosom of our families to revitalize it, or into the heart of our own moribund churches to recreate it."

"The church as the visible body of the Lord is committed to achieving global freedom, to participate in the construction of a just social order, and to stimulating and radicalizing the dedication of Christians. The holy alliance between contemplation and action can revitalize the church's presence in the world and make its commitment to the Lordship of Jesus deeper and more radical."

the 28th week

from the Loth House

Monday. I hugged Rob bye on my way out the door for work: he’s heading back to Oregon. DeJuan and I opened. I was home by 1:15, napped till about 5:00, and spent the evening with the Usual Crew at the Loth House. John and Brandy were gone, of course, honeymooning in the Dominican Republic. We watched Billy Madison and I cureld up on the sofa with Clover to do some reading. I was reading A Short History of World War II by Stokesbury, but I left it on top of Ams’ car the other day and she sped off with it. I searched the roads leading to the highway but didn’t see it. So I’ve been reading a not-so-short history of World War 2 called Inferno. I’ve been consuming it with passion: the German and Russian blitzkrieg of Poland, the Russian invasion of Finland and the German assault on Norway; the Fall of France and the establishment of the French Vichy government is fascinating. The Battle of Britain was covered nicely, and now I’m reading through the North African and Greece campaigns.

Tuesday. I opened with DeJuan who was 1 ½ hours late. I headed up to Amos’ after work, and we ate some gourmet mushrooms and played video games. I didn’t get home until 11:30 PM.

Wednesday. I worked till 2:00. A super cute girl was in the café all day. I flirted with her but I’m pretty sure she didn’t catch on. Damn: I need to hone my skills (or at least acquire some). My afternoon was spent (a) watching Dexter and (b) reading ‘bout the Axis campaigns in Greece and the Middle East. After some Mario-Kart at the Loth House with Amos, Ams, and Andy, I spent some time in good, honest-to-God prayer. I’m not “good” at prayer, so it was nice.

The Last Day of Spring. Sarah F. and I opened together. I did some writing after work and then met up with Amos and we went to the Hilltop Café at C.C.U. to hang out with Karen and Andy, who were working, and to chill with the Tomeo’s: Fact or Crap, wrestling with Lennon, and murdering my legs playing ping-pong against Eric in my classic, erratic fashion were the highlights of the evening. I was home by 10:00 but didn’t fall asleep until 3 AM. Insomnia kept me up, and I utilized the time to pray and think. Often I ask myself, “Where did my intimacy with God go?” The answer is simple: when I started questioning prayer itself and then stopped praying altogether. A plant withers without nourishment.

The First Day of Summer. Also: my 2-year anniversary with Tazza Mia! I was going to celebrate it at work (is this something one should celebrate?) but the day was far too crazy for it: Sarah called off sick, so I worked both Food Prep and shift supervisor. We ran out of spinach and eggs and people were in foul moods. On a positive note, Tibbles came in with the Tiblets, and it’s always fun playing with them. Mom dropped off a dryer on her way home from Kentucky (ours crapped out). My evening was spent at Frank’s, hanging out with him and Rebecca, and Brandon stopped by, too. We played GTA IV and Frank made cheesy rice and chicken.

Saturday. Such a boring, droll day. Highlights: coffee from UDF, Birds of Steel, and a DiGiorno Supreme Pizza for lunch. Ams came over and we watched documentaries on the birth of the earth and the pre-Cambrian explosion. I was enthralled, she was bored out of her mind. But she let me watch the shows anyways.

Sunday. I ran downtown to do the food order and ran into Tibbles. She told me they got a puppy and Eric’s fanatical about it. The man loves dogs, and I totally understand: I love Sky and am in an illicit love affair with another dog, Clover. I spent the morning drinking coffee, cleaning, writing, and reading: the German invasion of Russia, the failure to take Moscow, and the siege of Leningrad (modern-day St. Petersburg). Blake came home and we played NBA Jam and I fixed brown rice, “cinnamon chicken,” black-eyed peas and hushpuppies for dinner before going over to the Loth House to hang out with Amos and Ams: Call of Duty and Lord of the Rings on cable. John and Brandy rolled in around 2 AM, it’ll be good to have them around again.

the importance of being foolish (VII)

Chapter Six: The Work of the Kingdom (II)

"A lifestyle centered on security, pleasure, and power precludes the possibility of establishing any coherent sense of self for the simple reason that these desires peremptorily exclude God."

"An ego grasping for security, pleasure, and power freely barters self-awareness for something that will enhance the mirage of fulfillment that these desires bring. Our addictive patterns--our expectations, desires, attachments, demands, and mental models--dominate our perception of self, others, and the world. This grasping, manipulative focus keeps us on that roller-coaster ride of pleasure and disappointment that makes continuity of character and fidelity to vision impossible."

"Paul calls this desire-driven life sarx--life in the flesh. Here our mental and emotional programming inclines us to be controlled by the need to get enough from the world to feel secure, propels us to find happiness through more and better pleasurable experiences, and directs our attention to dominating people and situations, thereby increasing our prestige and power."

"The crisis of American spirituality, put bluntly, is Spirit versus flesh. The failure or flat refusal to abide in the mind of Christ creates duality and separation within us. We do not choose decisively between God and Mammon, and our procrastination constitutes a decision itself. We carefully distribute ourselves between flesh and Spirit with a watchful eye on both."

"The lifestyle of schizoid Christians is erratic because at different moments we deliberately separate ourselves from our real selves. We hug certain events, experiences, and relationships to ourselves and exclude the presence of the indwelling Spirit. It may be a movie, a conversation, an illicit love affair, or a business transaction. Later, we re-enter the self that calls itself Christian and take part in events where God is celebrated in speech and song."

"Heightened by what someone has called 'the agnosticism of inattention'--the lack of personal discipline to overcome media bombardment, sterile conversation, and utilitarian relationships--our self-awareness grows dim, the presence of a loving God fades into the distance and the possibility of trust and intimacy seems less plausible... A verdant heart becomes a devastated vineyard. It is impossible to consider God with heart and head filled with earthly business."

"Bothered by this dichotomy, we plunge into spiritual activities and get involved in church-related organizations and events in an effort to fill the empty space we know needs filling. Disinclined to renounce managerial control of our lives and unwilling to run the risk of living in union of Yahweh, we seek personal security and reassurance in rituals, devotions, liturgies, and prayer meetings. These structures provide a modicum of peace and promise that the comfortable piety and material possessions that constitute the sense of self will not be disturbed."

"The glory shining on the face of Christ Jesus does not shine in many of us. Unlike Jesus, we have not given our deepest inner assent to who we are meant to be. We have not surrendered to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within. We stand close enough to the fire to stay warm, but we never plunge in; nor do we come out burned and incandescently transformed. We might be nicer than most other people or have better morals, but we do not live as brand-new creations. Instead, our opaque personalities reveal our divided hearts."

#birdsofsteel

It's somewhat sad how I'm so into Birds of Steel. I've always adored flying games: when stress hit the fan in college, I'd escape through Microsoft Flight Simulator 4. Birds of Steel is the epitome of aviation greatness, rolling all those things I love into one package: flying, vintage planes, history, and excellent graphics. The thing I want to do most when I get home from work is to take to the skies: to bomb Battleship Row in Pearl Harbor, to counter German bombers in the Battle of Britain, to strafe tank positions in Stalingrad, or to fly recon missions in the South Pacific. The gem of this game is that you can fly all sorts of planes; you're not just limited to fighters or bombers, something that's been lacking in most combat aviation games. The dive bombers are an absolute DELIGHT. 

When Blake and I part ways, I'll HAVE to get a PS3 just so I can keep playing.

Really, guys. The game's THAT good.

this, the first day of summer

June 21. The first day of summer.
Also my 2-year anniversary at Tazza Mia.
I was going to celebrate at work, but I forgot.
Besides: is "celebrate" the right word?

My goal is to quit smoking by the end of June. I've tried quitting cold turkey like five times this month, and I've done well but then crashed and burned. Relapses are part of quitting. A website I've been perusing on quitting smoking, becomeanex.org, is full of valuable tips and tricks to make it work. They recommend "weaning," though a different sort than most: rather than go from, say, ten cigarettes a day to eight, then to five, and so on and so forth, their "weaning" involves allowing yourself a cigarette but only about ten minutes after the craving. This way I can get used to saying "No" to the cigarette; also, I've stopped smoking altogether when it comes to my biggest trigger: driving and at work. For the second I do allow myself a cigarette on my break, but I've cut out the "fives" I take during our morning lulls. So far things are going well, and I'm pretty optimistic: this weaning has showed me that I can indeed quit smoking and overcome my triggers. It's exciting.

When Rob was at the house last night, I did something ridiculous and he told me, "I'm pretty sure that you know what you're doing when you're being ridiculous. I think you know it's funny, so you do it." It's nice that someone gets it: I'm not actually an idiot, I just really enjoy acting like one. It's fun. I value humor, and I like injecting humor in peoples' lives. I like it when people laugh and smile. I like knowing I caused someone's brain to release endorphins. It's weird, I know. Sometimes my jokes can be quite convincing, to the point that even close friends can't tell the difference, but the truth, guys, is that I'm actually pretty smart. Being misunderstood at times is worth the joy of bringing people laughter, so even if people think I'm an idiot, well, I'm okay with that.

I'll close with a quote from Dexter: "We only know two things about people: what we want to see and what they want to show us."

this, the last day of spring

an interesting event this spring: a train wreck near my house

Spring has been both good and bad this year. There were, to be sure, disappointments, glimpses of hope followed by what could only be compared to a Spitfire crashing in the Channel during the Battle of Britain, and there were tragedies too real to warrant cheesy, off-the-cuff metaphors. God gives us bright moments in the dark seasons of life, and there have certainly been those: lots of parties, reunions, a beautiful wedding. Spring's ending and summer's beginning, and I have high hopes for this summer, I really do.

One such hope is to get back into biking. Dad "stole" my Cannondale, but he said he's cool with me taking it back. I want to bike around Norwood, Hyde Park, Oakley. I may even want to bike to work: I used to do it when I worked at Starbucks. And if when my car breaks down for good, it'd be good to be versatile on a bike. I'm going to try and start the Couch to 5K this weekend or next week. I've got a cool "Zombie" app to help: it plays your music, and when you hear the zombie, RUN!

One of this spring's highlights was Rob coming into town to officiate John and Brandy's wedding. It was so great hanging out with with at the wedding, drinking beers with him in the tree house, stuffing myself at Dusmesh with him by my side, and rolling over in laughter as we gathered 'round the hookah late Sunday night. It was truly sad saying Bye to him, and I hope to see him sooner rather than later. Mandy's in Europe right now, gallivanting around Amsterdam with Isaac, and I'd REALLY like to go out to Portland and spend time with both her and Rob, to catch up and laugh. I'd really like to piss Mandy off, just to hear her yell at me. It's weird how I miss that.

Since I beat Dead Island, I've been playing a new game: Birds of Steel.

Yearning for my old World War 2 Pacific Theater combat game for PC, I found a replacement.

You get to fly as the Americans, British, Germans, Japanese, or Russians.

You can do campaigns, build your own missions, and fly all sorts of planes.

Fighter planes, bomber aircraft, even planes reminiscent of World War One biplanes.

The graphics are amazing, too, so much better than the game I longed for.

What I'm saying is, I found a new dorky, nerdy obsession.

(but I can't play for more than an hour: video games aren't really "my thing")

Writing, you could say, is my thing. Dad asked me if I've been doing any writing. The truthful answer is, "Not really." To be honest, I'm just not that into writing about zombies anymore. I love them, don't get me wrong, but the last book I wrote is the fifth in a series of disconnected zombie novels. It was a good niche to fall into: my books have been rated by many better than Cell by Stephen King, and I've gotten some pretty kickass reviews and was even put on a list of Top Five post-apocalyptic novels (and I was alongside authors such as Stephen King for Cell, Richard Matheson for I Am Legend, and [this gets me every time] Cormac McCarthy for The Road. Nevertheless, I feel pretty burnt out on zombies and want to turn my fiction writing elsewhere. I've been toying with an idea for historical fiction centered on the French & Indian War. I think I could pull it off, and it's worth a shot. 

bourbon barrels, marble slabs, and a hooter

Over the past month we've been doing renovations at work, changing the entire look and flow of the store. The transformation has been key in getting the environment focused back on our coffee. The store had a cafeteria feel that we all hated, and for years we've wanted to change the place. It's finally happened. Minimalism and Rustic fornicated and had a child, and it's what we've got going on. we've still got some more work to do with the roasting area and with the furniture (we'll be having wooden-plated tables with artwork and engravings soon enough; they're in the artist's shop and he's painstakingly taking a LONG time to get them finished). 

Customers have generally liked the new feel. Some people just hate change and make it a point to tell you how awful it is. When you explain it to them and show how the changes are actually beneficial to the customer's speed and enjoyment of the store, they just get mad when they've been proven wrong. You shrug your shoulders and laugh. The suits have the hardest time with it, being used to whitewashed walls and cubicles and fancy things, but we've gained more traffic from normal, non-pretentious folk. And I like that.

We're highlighting our coffee, and we should: it's damned good. We've stolen Starbucks customers left and right (our coffee's better and the price basically the same) and attract those who know coffee. I can't tell you how many times I've been personally told by foreigners at the hotels that they tell all their friends across the pond about us, one of the only places that do coffee right. One man remarked, "Americans are so dumb when it comes to coffee. All they want to do is burn it and then fill it with sugar and cream. You guys do it right." Some Starbucks employees came in to try our coffee and remarked, "It isn't that good." I think they either (a) don't know good coffee or (b) they were just too proud to admit it. But I don't need validation from competitors; our loyal customers (including famous people, mind you) are quite vocal in their appreciation. How many times have I been told that I've made someone the best latte or cappuccino they ever have? I give credit where credit's due: Rob who trained me and those who roast our beans. I'm just the frontline man. With all the chaos and frustrations around my work (it is, after all, my job, and all jobs come with such things), I'm reminded of why I should be proud to work at Tazza Mia, why it's a nice climax to my coffee career (and, God, I hope it doesn't go any farther...). 

the importance of being foolish (VI)

House church hasn't happened in a couple weeks, due to people being unable to come or the hosts being unable to host, and thus there haven't been any quotes this month from the book we're reading. Eric & Tiffany came up with a great idea: instead of hosting at their house, house church will meet at the Hilltop, where Andy works. Anyone who can make it can come. Although we're not reading the book anymore, because some people didn't like it, others didn't have copies, and people either (a) finished it themselves and moved to something else or (b) didn't wish to pick it up at all. I'm going to keep plowing through, though in bits and chunks rather than chapter-by-chapter. 

Chapter Six: The Work of the Kingdom (I)

"The will of God is reality. It is like a river of life coming down from God to Jesus--a bloodstream through which he draws life even more profoundly and more powerfully than he drew life from his mother. And whoever is ready to do the will of God becomes a part of this bloodstream. The believer and doer is united to the life of Christ Jesus even more truly, deeply, and strongly than Jesus was united to his mother."

"The mind of Jesus is focused on the fulfillment of God's will through the proclamation of the Reign of God. Jesus' intimacy with God and awareness of God's holiness fills him with an all-consuming thirst for the things of God. His interior life of trust and loving surrender is not simply a matter of personal prayer, private religious experience, and delight in God's innate presence. Such a limited relationship with God would ignore the real world and its struggle for redemption, justice, and peace. No, the inner life of Jesus Christ takes expression in a special, vital quality of presence in the world in the most active situations."

"There was a towering desire within Jesus to reveal his Father in serving the poor, the captive, the blind, and all who were in need. Jesus was entirely devoured by this mission. It was Jesus' experience of God's holiness that created the imperative of preaching the reign of God's justice, peace, and forgiving love."

"All three of Satan's [wilderness] ploys ('If you are the Son...') are intended to press the same questions: Is Jesus really Son-Servant-Beloved? Was the Jordan experience merely an illusion? Did anyone else hear the voice Jesus heard? Satan launches a frontal assault on the religious identity of Jesus. The gospel pericope does not dwell on the inner struggle and fierce conflict in the human heart of Jesus, but the issue was tumultuous... Jesus' trust in his Father is not a single decision that leaves him certain of his mission and immune to the Tempter. His brush with the devil in the desert is the first of a series of challenges to his self-awareness and inner identity as Son-Servant-Beloved of the Father."

"Jesus' self-awareness and unflagging zeal in his ministry must be seen in direct and unceasing relation to his interior life of growing intimacy with the Father. We must not lose sight of this logical link: the primacy of mission and his consuming zeal for proclaiming the kingdom of God derive not from theological reflection, the desire to edify others, trendy spirituality, or a loos sense of goodwill towards the world. Its wellspring is God's holiness and Jesus' self-awareness of his relation to God."

"It is highly significant that the gospel is punctuated with numerous references to Jesus' withdrawal from the mainstream of activity to pray. The Bible indicates that Jesus needs this special kind of intimate contact with his Father... The heart of God is Jesus' hiding place, a strong protective space where God is near, where connection is renewed, where trust, love, and self-awareness never die but are continually rekindled. In times of opposition, rejection, hatred, and danger, Jesus retreats to that hiding place where he is loved. In times of weakness and fear, a gentle strength and mighty perseverance are born there. In the face of mounting incomprehension and mistrust, the Father alone understands him."

"In the seclusion of desert places, he meets with El Shaddai, and what those moments mean to him can scarcely be understood. But this much can be said: the primary, growing, definitive identity of Jesus as his Father's Son, Servant, and Beloved is profoundly reinforced there. Nothing must interfere with proclaiming the good news of eternal life and helping people move into a way of life that will enable them to grow toward eternity--a way of peace and justice with room for human dignity to be recognized and for love to blossom."

"One cannot but think of the number of wrong marriages, wrong jobs, wrong personal relationships, and all the concomitant suffering that would be avoided if Christians submitted their decision-making process to the Lordship of Jesus Christ and shared in his intimate trust in God's direction."

"We often forget that we have the same access to God that Jesus enjoyed. But we must never forget that our Creator cares. God knows each of us by names and is deeply involved in the dramas of our personal existence... The sounds of inner peace resonate in the heart attuned to God, while the untuned heart caught up in singing its own song throbs with agitation, conflict, dissonance, and contretemps."

the 27th week

Andy & Ams in Liam's Tree Fort

Monday. DeJuan and I opened, a hectic morning. I was 15 minutes late, Sarah was 1 ½ hours late, our ice machine is broken and our baking oven disappeared. After work I met up with Brandon & Sarah at his loft and we hung out with him and his boyfriend Tony. They’re pretty much in love, and it’s given a new wind to Brandon’s life. I headed back downtown for a Rock Bottom dinner on the patio with Blake & Traci, Amos and Ams. Red Ale and nachos! I ferried Ams to her car at our place, and we hung out for a bit and then she headed home. On my way to the Loth House I watched a train derail by our house, knocking down power lines. At the Loth House, Clover was being quite randy, Brandy was working with Missy on planning her and John’s “real” wedding Saturday (they got married earlier in Hospice so that Jim could be there for it; he was so glad to be a part of it!), and John seemed to be doing better. Blake, Traci, and Amos colored pictures of black people.

Tuesday. I had the day off: went to The Anchor for morning coffee and spent the afternoon watching SVU and playing Birds of Steel, a kickass World War 2 combat flight simulator (I beat Dead Island: Riptide). Ams came over and Blake took the day off ‘cause his stomach was bothering him, so we spent the evening hanging out and watching SVU. Traci came over, and she and Blake made a UDF run and brought ice cream home for Ams and me. “I think I’m losing weight again,” I quipped as I dug into some peanut butter cookie dough. Josh broke up with Ams, so of course she’s in pretty awful shape. “At least it wasn’t on Valentine’s Day,” Tibbles quipped. Touche.

Wednesday. I worked F.P. and Eric and Sarah F. opened. Tibbles talks included (but certainly weren’t limited to) crime fiction, Grad School, summer plans (‘cause it’s 91 degrees out), The Civil Wars (the band, not the historical event, sadly), and BEDBUGS. She had a scare, and I had more than that. Ams found one in Corey’s bed, so when I got home I scoured my bed and found some more. SHIT. And I thought we’d gotten rid of them all when we had a scare a while back. Once I finished cleaning, I made pasta with chicken for dinner, played lots of Birds of Steel, did some reading, and watched SVU.

Thursday. Sarah F. and I opened together. Bob bought us a real-deal cow-skin rug for the café. Back home I wrapped up my bed in plastic wrap, didn’t see anymore bed bugs. I spent the evening at the Loth House with the usual crew (Small Group was cancelled yet again). Ams & Brandy put together wedding favors, Amos and I played Mario-Kart with John, and Amos and I grabbed Chinese from Double Dragon II and everyone else got pizza from Dewey’s.

Friday. Amos and I opened, a busy but easy day; the two of us, we rock shit out. I packed up my laundry to do in Dayton, did some reading, and then jetted up to Dayton. I pulled into the UDF at the Spice Racks for gas and then my car wouldn’t start. One of the attendants helped me push it to a parking spot where I got a tow. Dad and I grabbed Wendy’s for dinner and then went and saw a Led Zeppelin cover band at the Fraze Pavilion. The music was incredible, and the set list included favorites like Dazed and Confused, Babe I’m Gonna Leave You, Bring it on Home, Kashmir, Traveling Riverside Blues, Battle of the Evermore, Going to California, Ramble On, and of course Stairway to Heaven. The drummer was mesmerizing with Moby Dick, and the finale was Whole Lotta Love. The singer perfectly replicated Plant’s voice. I spent the night in Dayton because of my car. Fingers crossed it’s not another $740 out of my bank account.

Saturday. I ran errands with Ams, who’s crashing at Mom & Dad’s for a few weeks since she has nowhere to live in Cincinnati. We got breakfast at McDonald’s, did shopping at Kroger, and hit up the Route 48 Starbucks. She took me to pick up my car (a blown starter, an easy and relatively cheap fix), and I headed back to Cincinnati to (a) finish laundry and (b) do some preemptive cleaning for tomorrow’s party with Rob, who just got back from Brazil and is in town from Portland officiating John & Brandy’s wedding. I picked up Amos and we headed up to Centerville, meeting up with Ams at the house and then heading on to Stubb’s Park for the wedding. Rob officiated (like I said), Blake ran the music, and I made sure people signed the guest book. John & Brandy were hitched under the ampitheater’s wings. A beautiful ceremony, and how can you not be joyful when two people you love decide to share their lives together? T.J. came, too, and it was good seeing him. He drives a motorcycle now, and he took me for a spin on his 1977 bike. I need to get one of those. The After Party was held at John’s brother Liam’s place: lots of beer, a swimming pool and hot tub, and a magnificent two-tiered tree fort with a crow’s nest overlooking the swimming pool. Blake and Traci, Ams, Andy, Rob, Amos and I crowded the tree fort till about 1 AM; Liam, John and I did some swimming in the freezing pool and warmed up in the hot tub, and then Amos and I headed back to Cincinnati with Clover in the backseat. I dropped them off at Loth and headed back to my apartment. I crashed around 3:30 AM after a long, exhausting, and wonderful day. And I left my patriotic American flag boxers beside the pool.

Father’s Day. I hit up the Anchor before “Dusmesh with Rob”. Lots of people showed up to partake: Blake, Amos, Ams, Andy, the Sulzeners and Cat. Blake and I spent the afternoon cleaning the apartment, and then people started showing up for the “party for Rob.” Pre-gaming include Blake and Traci, Amos and Ams, Andy and me (and Rob, of course). White Russians, coloring books, ridiculous Youtube videos. More people filtered in throughout the night: Khristian and Kyle, Jake S., Alex K. from college, T.J. and Neil, and Sarah C. who used to work at Carew. Lots of people got pretty drunk and DDs ferried ‘em home. Rob, Sarah C. and I were some of the last holdouts. I’ve missed Rob dearly, and hanging out with him just like the old Claypole Times was sublime.

[the gambill wedding]

Last night John & Brandy were officially hitched.
The ceremony was held at Stubb's Park, where I used to run back in the day.
We gathered around the amphitheater, Rob officiated, and John & Brandy kissed.
Ams made the delicious lemon cake, in lieu of their yellow-themed sunflower wedding.
After the wedding, lots of us gathered at John's brother's house.
He has a swimming pool, a hot tub, and a two-tiered tree fort with a crow's nest.
Lots of beer, swimming, laughing, sharing stories.
Celebrating love and laughter, and Rob's presence, too.
It was great seeing him, has been great seeing him.

Led Zeppelin Friday night, a wedding and party Saturday night, and another party tomorrow night. It's been a pretty good weekend, I'd say.

[Get The Led Out]

Last night Dad and I went to the Fraze Pavilion to see The American Led Zeppelin, a Led Zeppelin cover band going cross-country on their "Get the Led Out" tour. 

I had my doubts: being a big Led Zeppelin fan, I knew I'd be a sort of perfectionist when it came to the cover band. My doubts crumbled as the show started: the music was flawless and the lead singer's voice all but perfectly replicated Plant's. They played several of my favorites, and it was breathtaking to be experiencing them live rather than digitally. Here are some of the songs they played:

Can't Quit You, Baby

Babe I'm Gonna Leave You

Dazed and Confused

Going to California

Battle of the Evermore

Ramble On

Misty Mountain Hop

Moby Dick

Kashmir

Whole Lotta Love

The Lemon Song

Traveling Riverside Blues

We got lucky: tickets were only $5 for the show at the Fraze, but the tour's other shows crank the price up to $30. I definitely want to see them again; maybe next year they'll play Good Times Bad Times. A two hour slot is in no way enough time to play all of Led Zeppelin's hits, so of course Dad and I knew we'd be left wishing we'd heard this or that song. I lucked out: most of my favorites were played. Dad was pretty bummed he didn't get to hear Good Times Bad Times, though. 

time for a new car?

320,000 miles.
Thank you, Verizon, for Roadside Assistance.
I've had my car towed no less than four times in the past three months.
Thanks to you, it hasn't cost me a dime.

[derecho]

randomz

On Wednesdays Tiffany and I get the pleasure of having the whole back room to ourselves, just like the good ol' days when I worked Food Prep all the time. I'm pretty close with Tiffany (I call her "Tibbles"), an end result of being stuck in the back with her for six hours a day five days a week for almost a year and a half. Every Wednesday we have what I call (and never to her face) "Tibbles Talks," which is basically just talking about anything and everything to pass the time. We're up to date on each other's lives, she knows the ins and outs of all my girl drama (of which there has been far too much), and she knows all about my Grad School plans for this September. She asked me how that was going, and I told her I've got everything good-to-go except the last few documents, and I told her how I'm nervous about it. "Everyone says I need to get a Master's, but what happens when I dish out twenty three thousand dollars only to find myself in this very same position?" For most open positions for what I'm looking for, there are about 500 applicants. The way to get out of this 2nd grade depression is to get your Master's, we're told; but then everyone does that, and the market's flooded with applicants. To top it all off, by having a Master's degree, I have to get paid more; out of a flood of applicants, some with only Bachelor's degrees, it's far cheaper to just go with the less qualified and thus cheaper applicants. *SIGH* I hate not knowing what to do.

Blake and I are watching an episode of "Justified."

I've never seen this show, but it seems pretty cool.

I'm consuming "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" at the moment.

Halfway through Season Ten, only two more seasons to go!

Yesterday I watched like five episodes. And I had some weird dreams.

That's usually why I stop watching it: I start dreaming about it.

And even though I'm always a "good guy" in these dreams, they're still pretty disturbing. 

A train wrecked right outside our house Monday night. I heard weird popping noises and went out onto the balcony, and beyond the Siemens factory, a telephone tower was rocking back and forth, cables flying everywhere, spitting sparks, and then it crumpled down on itself: a stray boxcar smashed right into it. The downed power lines took out electricity for most of the suburbs north of us, but our electricity remained on. I was surprised: I went in from the balcony expecting everything to be dark and muted. 

I deleted my POF and OKCupid accounts.

Not that I was getting any hits with the whole "want a Christian woman" thing.

Those websites are more like upscale Craigslists sometimes.

It can get tiring, being told you're not tall enough, or muscular enough,

or that you're too Christian for one woman and too secular for another.

I'm just going to think about something else for a while, till it all blows over.

Also: in no way, shape, or form was I mad when I wrote the "Mad Koala" post.
The picture was sent to me from Josh, and the title was unoriginal.
Just saying.

the 26th week

a pic from Miami Whitewater

Monday. DeJuan and I opened, and I spent the afternoon playing Dead Island and hanging out with Blake and Traci, Isaac and Ams. Blake made burgers and I made a 4-cheese alfredo pasta with mushrooms and broccoli. We headed over to the Loth House. John and Brandy were married last week, congratulations all around amidst the hell of John’s dad’s winnowing time in Hospice. Isaac headed off to Europe, a 3-week stint. His mom’s doing better and the chemo seems to be working, praise God.

Tuesday. I had the day off, so I slept in until 8 AM and went to The Anchor to do some writing, and then I jetted across Interstate 74 to Miami Whitewater National Park. I smoked a cigar in the woods, walked around the lake, spent some time in much-needed prayer. I spent the afternoon playing Dead Island and spent the evening at the Loth House. Amos, John, Brandy and I played lots of Mario-Kart, and then John got a distressing call and he and Brandy headed up north to Dayton.

Wednesday. Jim passed away last night. Amos told me at work. The knowledge, it felt like a stone in my chest. I fucking HATE death. When I work Food Prep, Tibbles and I share the back room and we have “Tibbles Talks”: we talk a lot about what’s going on in our lives, spiritual things, and monarchial history (she’s an Anglophile). I beat Dead Island back home and Ams came over and we picked up Chinese from Double Dragon II down the road. We accidentally ordered an extra entrée of Lo Mein. At least it was cheap. I went by Amos’ and we played some Mario-Kart. John and Brandy were in Dayton with John’s family.

Thursday. Torrential rains fell for most of the day. And on the one day I put out the patio without checking my weather app. Ams came over after work for SVU and burnt chicken noodle soup. Small Group was cancelled, the Tomeo’s committed to a family event.

Friday. I threw out my back this morning, an old high school injury re:visited. Tibbles covered my shift, so I drugged up and picked up Chipotle for lunch and ran into Khristian and Kyle there. I went to The Anchor to see Jobst for a bit, and we drank coffee and caught up on each other’s lives. He’s planning on getting out of Cincinnati. I want to, too, but where would I go? My top choice was Wisconsin, but I’ve scrapped that one.

Saturday. Amos, Ams and I grabbed Dushmesh buffet for lunch before jetting north to Far Hills Avenue for Jim’s funeral, stopping along the way at Boston Stoker for coffee. 57 years old and taken away. A moving ceremony. He was an imperfect man known for the joy of Christ in his life, and he was an anchor for his family up to the point he took his last breath. He passed away during the song Paradise by Coldplay. After the ceremony we went to John’s uncle’s for beers and treats. We headed back to the Loth House, and not long after John and Brandy arrived. We sat in the quiet not saying much of anything, and John warmed our hearts telling us that he’d rather have no one else by his side on a night such as tonight. Ams and I headed back to my apartment. On the way she wanted me to stop with her at UDF to help her change her oil. I pulled up long after she arrived, saw her standing beside her car. She waved Hi, I thought she waved Bye (thinking she’d done changed her oil all on her own), and then I left. She hadn’t changed her oil, just watched me drive away thinking, Wtf, Anth?

Sunday. Busy morning: I made a trip to The Anchor, stopped by work downtown to do the food order, enjoyed Chipotle on the Square, and then headed up to New Carlisle to celebrate Mother’s and Father’s Day with Dad’s side of the family. We grilled hamburgers and had homemade ice cream with candy toppings for desert. All the kids were there: Cate and Gracie (belonging to Joel & Megan) and Matthew & Shelby’s newborn Shay. Addison’s getting married next month and has landed a salaried job. “When are you going to get married?” my family asks. “When are you going to get a REAL job?” they ask, pointing out how I haven’t “measured up” (as if I’m too dumb not to notice). I laugh, shrug it off, pretend it doesn’t bother me. They all expected so much: I’d become a minister, have a family. They were all so optimistic. Hell, so was I. But people are dying all around me, lives are falling apart, and now all those dreams seem as futile and empty as ever.