a funeral procession

R.I.P. Maebe. December '09 - January '11

We didn't have her very long (only a few days past a year) but she was a good hamster. I figured she'd be dying soon. They only live to be around 1 1/2 to 2 years old, and she was full-grown when I bought her. Apparently no one had wanted her, but I gave her a home and much love. It was sad to see her in there with a bunch of baby hamsters, the only one full-grown. It was as if no one wanted to take her home. So I took her home and I got her a great cage and lots of treats and excellent bedding and several toys. And she would fall asleep in my hands and crawl through my shirt pockets and nibble on my finger every once in a while, and even when she bit me so hard it bled for two days straight I still thought she was the best hamster in the world. But she got pretty stiff last night, and that's cause she died, so Dewenter and I took her out back and dug a shallow grave in the cold earth and we buried her and then went inside to drink beer and play Mario-Kart. She will be missed.

dinner with classy gents

Last night a bunch of us from work went to Jessica's condominium to hang out and feast. I ran by Dorothy Lane beforehand and grabbed some appetizers: homemade mozzarella balls with olive oil, to spread on wheat crackers (Jessica provided the most amazing hummus I've ever had). Car-pooling with Allison and Carly, we got to her condo around 6:30 and I promptly went to work fixing dinner: grilled chicken, sauteed asparagus, baked potatoes, macaroni and cheese. Because I didn't prepare beforehand for so many people, much of the food--namely the asparagus and chicken--was cold by the time dinner came around. Oh well. I'm no chef, just someone who likes to cook. Kyle joined us, and throughout the night we polished off an entire bottle of delicious wine and a half bottle of another; I drank all mine when cooking and got a pretty nice buzz. Afterwards we sat around the fireplace and shared laughs and told stories and some of us broke out pipes and others broke out the hookah. It was indeed a good time with good friends; I'm thankful that I work where I can make friends and spend time with them outside work without talking about work the whole time. I'm glad we didn't talk about work much at all, except cracking jokes about everyone's mess-ups and failures. All in all a good night.

Patrick came over today, and we went to Dayton and picked up some stainless steel beer kegs he's using to make a gravity station for brewing his own beer. He made a Christmas blend, an I.P.A., which I have yet to try. We spent the evening playing Mario-Kart and watching ridiculous documentaries on netflix: "Terror Bird" and "Killer Pig," about prehistoric Ice Age-esque animals. Quite hilarious, especially since National Geographic tried to make it out as a serious exploration. Awful C.G.I. destroyed their attempts. 

coincidence?

As I wrote yesterday, I find myself unsure of what to do with my life. I find myself pulled in two different directions, and at least on one level, it is the difference between Vocation and Ambition. In other words, there is something I feel called to do--or, rather, be--and something that I want to do and be, but something which may or may not result in God's glory. As I crawled into bed last night, I confessed all this yet again to God, and I prayed for guidance and wisdom in my quest for what to do. Following my prayer, I began a devotional my little sister got me for Christmas: "Reflecting the Glory" by N.T. Wright. The very first devotional ended with these words (a sketch of Paul's train-of-thought in 2 Corinthians 2.14-17):

Yes, I am called to be an agent of Christ, part of the very body of Christ; and I recognize that I am unfit for a ministry like this. So, as [Paul] will say again and again throughout this passage, the sufficiency he has does not come from himself: it is the gift of God.

These words really resonated with me. Today I had a mentorship meeting with my friend and boss, good ol' Wade, at work. During the forty minutes we had together, I told him that I am a pretty introverted, timid guy. It's part of my personality makeup (INFP all the way, baby!), and the result is that I really dislike confrontation, find it hard to talk to people I don't know, and generally would rather stick to myself. All of this leads me straight to 1 Timothy: everything we know about Timothy tells us that he may have been an INFP or something similar. Paul had to tell him, in no uncertain words, "Do NOT dare to let people walk all over you." He constantly writes to Timothy, giving him encouragement amidst his ministry. One wonders why Paul wrote so often to Timothy? Most of his letters (with the exception of the pastoral epistles) are written to congregations; yet we find four pastoral epistles, two of which are written to this enigma named Timothy. It seems that Timothy was unsure of himself, hesitant, always questioning his ability to do perform the task at hand, to advance God's kingdom and to lead churches. Again and again Paul is there, pushing him along, and we can even taste a sort of frustration in Paul's tone from time-to-time. Nevertheless, despite his timidity, Timothy continues--albeit wrestling and struggling--in his vocation.

I find myself similar to Timothy. I know what God wants me to do. The thing about vocation is that it's not something spelled out on your birth certificate but something ingrained within you. It's something you just know, but something you know differently than how you know your own name or know facts or figures or mathematics. It's a heart-knowing, if that makes any sense. And I know, in my heart, in the deepest part of who I am, that God has called me to something: but I am consistently unsure of myself, always questioning--"Me? Really? Come on!"--, and always trying to find excuses (much like Jonah) to get out of it (perhaps I should remember that big-ass whale; be it metaphorical or literal, it was still one hell of a nightmare). Wright polishes off the section with this statement:

We cannot have a theology in which human beings, whether apostles or ordinary Christians, simply decide that they are going to pin their flag on God's map, and that they will attempt to do something in their own strength, for God. What we have is a theology of vocation and enabling--a theology, in other words, of the Holy Spirit.

Perhaps, at the heart of all this struggling, is my own knowledge that I can't do it. And that's a legitimate excuse made illegitimate by the Spirit: yes, I can't do it; and yes, the Spirit will enable me to do it. If I were able to do it on my own, would it even be considered a vocation? "Who is sufficient for such things?" A rhetorical question with a rhetorical answer: "No one." And alongside that negative answer is the presence of God and the empowerment of the Spirit, not so that I can attain my own dreams and ambitions but so that God's kingdom can advance. 

the dayton days [48]

these Claypole parties can get pretty crazy

Monday. I worked 12-5:00, and then Dylan, Tyler, and I got dinner at The Rusty Bucket and ended the night with Mario-Kart. Everyone got hurt today: both Dylan & Tyler burnt themselves on cigarettes, and I got a random nosebleed at the diner. I rearranged my room, got rid of the desk to open up space. Leah and I texted one another all day. She may "dig" me. Who knows? It's hard to tell if a girl's flirting or just flirtatious because of her personality. Leah's charismatic, so it's even more difficult.

Tuesday. Leah & I met up at Cadillac Jack's around 4:00. She had her root beer, I had a 22 ounce Sam Adam and got pretty buzzed. I dropped her off at the 'Bux for her 6-11:00 and was buzzed driving home. Leah and I were both up till 3 AM talking over Skype. Megan said she's at least aware that I'm interested, as if a skype call till 3 AM isn't proof enough. She's cute and fun, and we have good conversation. I'm definitely interested.

Wednesday. Leah confessed to liking me, said I was cute and a good conversationalist. "You're quiet, expressionless, and blunt, so it's hard for me to figure you out. But your eyes, they're a dead giveaway." She really likes my eyes.

Thursday. Megan said she dragged a confirmation out of Leah, relayed the conversation do me:

"So what's up with you and Anthony?" she asked her.

Leah's face blushed like fireworks. "I know he likes me."

"It's pretty obvious."

"Yeah, he doesn't hide it well."

"And you like him."

"Yeah."

"You don't hide it well, either."

Leah told Megan she's afraid of getting in trouble with work. Megan reminded her that it's not against the rules, but discretion is key. Leah said she's a charismatic Christian: not Pentecostal, just really tied to the spiritual world. As much of a stoic as I am, I believe her, if only because Mom is (er, was) the same way. So I know those "gifts" are real.

New Year's Eve. I spent the day down in Cincinnati. Blake, Amos & I went to Price Hill Chili, but they were closed, so we just went back to Claypole and partied. We spent the evening playing video games, munching--white chocolate candies, mozzarella sticks, and meatballs--and partying as hard as we could. Amos passed out around 10, and I followed suit around 11:00. I missed the ball drop but woke at 12:03 to a flurry of celebratory text messages.

New Year's Day. Leah and I went on our first "real" date. I picked her up from work at 2:30, and we went back to my place and cuddled in bed, and we went to see the new Chronicles of Narnia movie in 3D. We went to her place, and I met her Mom, Dad, and sister Hannah (plus Gracie the dog and Sammy the cat). We all sat in their basement and talked for about an hour. "My parents really like you," Leah said, "and so does my sister." 

Sunday. No church this morning. Aunt Teri, Uncle Bill, and Aunt Teri headed back to Kentucky (they spend New Year's with my parents every year, but I missed their party for my own sort at Claypole). Dylan came over around 12:30 and we had lunch: pizza and beer at Milano's. We went back to the house and Dewenter joined us. Lots of Mario Kart and National Geographic documentaries, and a trip to I.G.A. to get groceries for Mom (and juice boxes!). 

a bummer day

Some time ago I met an amazing, wonderful, beautiful girl. We hung out several times and went on several dates, and I really liked (well, still like) her, and she really liked me. But I knew that it wouldn't be wise to date her, because of extenuating circumstances amidst which we found ourselves, so today I wrestled two opposing angels on either shoulder--unbeknownst to me which was Satan and which was Michael--and made the decision to call things off. It was hard, very hard, but thankfully she understood, and our friendship remains intact. I've thought about it all day, and I find myself wanting to backtrack; but that's how it always goes with these things. I need to observe wisdom and do what I know to be right. Nevertheless, it's difficult, and I already miss our text messages and online chatting.

To top it off, I continue to have no idea what to pursue in my life. It's really more complicated than a mere paragraph can show, but basically I find myself pulled in two different directions. One is selfish, the other is selfless. One is all about self-gratification, the other is about self-discipline. And yet these distinctions can be wrought in either direction; one is selfless under a certain light, and yet under a different light, it is inherently selfish. So deciding based upon which is "good" and which is "bad" is a moot point. Perhaps the time has come for me to just make a decision and stick with it, hoping and praying that I don't find myself bathing in regret because of it. But the fear of regret--and the fear of failure--keep me trapped in this indecisive, stagnant pool of water called my life. *sigh*

But at least the day, amidst its trials and tribulations, hasn't been totally bust. Dylan and Tyler came over for a delicious meal of grilled chicken, rice, and baked potatoes, polished off with Great Lakes Eliot Ness. It's 7:20 and I think I'm going to take some Nyquil, do some praying, and go to bed.

my simple life

This is the hardest decision I have to make each day.

New Year's Weekend

Friday afternoon I made the trip down to Cincinnati. Blake, Amos and I decided to grab an early dinner at Price Hill Chili, but much to our dismay, they were (quite strangely) closed. We spent the evening back at the house, playing video games and watching movies, drinking beer. I only had one, shockingly enough, but Hartman went through a dozen, picking up our slack. I fell asleep around 11:00--such an old man--and missed the ball drop, waking up around 12:03 to a flurry of "Happy New Year!" text messages. I responded and promptly returned to sleep.

Today has been pretty great. At 2:30 I met up with my new friend Leah, and we went back to my place for a bit, then went and saw a movie--"The Voyage of the Dawn Treader", it was just ok--and then we went to her place for a little while. All in all a good time with good conversation and much laughter. Now it's time for me to go to bed and wonder what the rest of this week (and, while I'm at it, the rest of this year) has in store.