Trust and Tiredness

Last night, we stayed up working on our robot until midnight.

This morning, we stayed up working on our robot until 8:30 am, when it shipped.

We worked on the robot for a long time. I am tired.

Still, I am not too tired to blog. Actually, my brain is so full of thoughts that they're coming out in droves upon what I wanted to call a canvas, but which is actually just a bunch of pixels displaying the graphical representation of code. Dagnabbit, just when I was feeling poetic...

So, one of my excuses for not blogging (something I really want to do pretty much all the time) is that I had no idea how to fit in the end to the saga of the job at the gas station. I still don't know how, so I'm just going to spell it out. I got the job, but I turned it down. Getting the job was an answer to prayer, but God's answers are always so much elaborate than the ones we want. I asked for a job, and he gave me a dilemma that required trust in him and faith in action, not to mention standing my ground for once in my life.

To put a long story into 424 words, the manager showed me the ropes one day, and I did not like the ropes. It would have been a challenging job, but that was not what turned me off. I actually think it would have been a growing experience for me, if it had not been for what I was asked to do. The guy was really cool, but one of the first things he said to me was, "Don't worry, man, I won't tell your parents about anything you do here. You're your own man now, right? Striking out on your own!" Then he laughed. I laughed nervously with him.

He then proceeded to show me specific things I would be selling, like cigarettes (barely legal for me), beer (still not sure about that one), and magazines designed to provide temptation for guys my age (products I am not about to provide). As the son who has watched his father's life be made miserable in part by a nicotine addiction, I was dead set against feeding the addictions of others. Beer? I mean, they're going to get it no matter what, right? Yeah. No. It's not going to be through me. The magazines kind of nailed the lid into the coffin for me.

I was still torn, though. It was a life-altering decision. Pretty much all decisions are, but this was tangibly so. I needed a job desperately, and it looked like God had provided one. On the other hand, this was not a job in which I would be happy, and I was not even sure I could do it for a year. It took a lot of prayer, but I knew the entire time what my answer would be. I couldn't do it. Saying no is always difficult for me, but it become more difficult when the guy tried his darndest to get me to change my mind. I was determined, fortunately, and for once I didn't let someone butter me up and push me around. I said no, and I felt good about it, sort of.

That gas station closed a few days after I said no. I'm unsure as to whether it was because I didn't take the job that they had to close, or whether I would have been out of a job a few days after I got hired. The guy did seem desperate, even though he said to me in his game show host voice, "I'm never desperate." I almost believed him until that last phone call.

So that is the answer to your question. I got the job, right? No. But I learned a lot and made some difficult decisions I had never before made. I had been faced with them before, but had never made the right choice when it meant giving up something for which I had thought I was destined.

Anyway. I tend to live my life with my hair in some crazy, ridiculous do. I do it to relieve stress, if you want to know. Yes, sometimes because I want to be cool (this is always a disappointment; it never works), but often to relieve stress. This morning I needed to relieve some, so I gelled my hair all to one side. And not flat against my head. Oh, no. Ever seen the movie The Country Bears? You know that part with the two cops who go through the car wash? I love that part. My hair looked like the white cop's. Except to the right, not straight back.

Sometimes, when someone tells me something that shocks me and changes my entire outlook on the day, I am tempted to let my hair down, as it were. I don't feel like the same crazy, goofy person. But it's just a feeling, isn't it? I am still the same crazy, goofy person no matter what someone tells me (unless they tell my that I'm not the same crazy, goofy, person, and they're right, which rarely happens). Sure, there's much more to me than the crazy, goofy parts, but they still remain. A sudden shift in circumstance doesn't change who I am.

I'm learning not to let circumstances change me. It has a lot to do with trusting God, one of the most difficult things for me to do. I've never before been able to say this, but I am starting to do that. Today, I had to make one of my most difficult trust decisions. Someone told me something that completely changed my view of certain things, and I really want to pursue that something with all of my heart. My heart's point of view changes a lot, though. It isn't very dependable. I'm learning that God's point of view is 100% dependable.

I'm learning not to trust my emotions. They can be very persuasive, but they are almost always fleeting.

I now have a Boston song playing in my head. It's more than a feeling!!

But is it more than a feeling? I think it's still too early to tell, some say, it really ain't no myth at all.

Now, that was Jack Johnson. Is my playlist showing?

But when you discover for a fact that someone else has the same feeling, does that lend any credence to it? Maybe, I guess. But that doesn't change the fact that God knows and I don't. It makes complete sense to trust him with my future and follow his plan. I'm actually starting to just accept that and obey him. Sometimes. This was one of those times, and it was certainly emotional. I just don't want to give up my desires. Why? Because I desire them so much!

I'm so glad that God is patient. It took me eighteen years to obey his will once or twice. Now I just have to continue. I'm finding out that the more I trust God, the more I love him for his perfect planning and love for me that is so evident in what he asks me to do. You have no idea how long I've waited to love him. I'm seeing just a glimpse of what Jesus meant when he said that we love God by obeying his commands. It never made sense to me because I had never tried it.

Can I tell you right now that it works?

So, today I gave up control to God. Boy, was that tough. I'm still not in total agreement. I'm still just sitting here hoping that he does what I want him to do. In other words, I still have the wrong attitude. Have I mentioned how much I want to go with what both myself and the second party feel? It's so hard. Life is hard. God is good. I'm putting my faith in the latter, and I'm doing it with my hair held high.

Coffee Cake is Delicious, and Neal Morse is Musically So.

I am waiting to title this post until after I have finished writing it, which I usually do not do. I'll call it an affirmation of a new start to blogging. Besides, I have to find a title that relates to this post that is alphabetically close to the word "donkey."

People who work in convenience stores are the people for whom I feel the sorriest, at least when it comes to American workers. They spend most of their time alone, especially during the nighttime, and they have no control over whom they come in contact with during those hours. Often they get yelled at by customers, and sometimes they get held up. Also, they are often driven to tears by the boredom cause by the lack of things to do in between all of this.

I've always felt especially bad for the people working in the Irving station down the road from my house. It's pretty much just a box filled with stuff to buy that has a small space in which an employee is made to stand. It's sort of charming in its own way when you're inside it, and doesn't feel quite so small, but when I drive by it, I've always felt sorry for the person standing all alone by himself.

I go to this Irving often, since it is the closest gas station to our house and our van is a gas guzzler. One evening a week or two ago, I stepped inside and turned ninety degrees to my left. I was now at the checkout counter and nearly out the other door.

I never realized it until just now, but I love how many convenience stores and drug stores are primarily left-handed. Most often, at least where I go, the place where you pay for your items is to the left from the entrance. In a primarily right-handed world, it is small things like this that make me feel like I belong.

Anyway, I walked inside and began the routine I always performed for these people. "Fifteen regular on pump... uh...." It was then that I realized I had spaced on one of my usual preparations. I had not checked the number of the pump at which I had parked. I glanced out of the window and checked it quickly. "...two, yeah."

The guy, whom I had seen plenty of times before and whose name was Joey, had been leaning his head over the counter in a decidedly tired-looking way. He had resumed his standing position when I walked in, though he still appeared quite tired. This lined up with the fact that it was about closing time, which for this place is about 10:30. He looked at me, silently, sizing me up or something. I wasn't sure what he was reacting to until he spoke.

"You realize you're the only person out there." My wheels turned for a few seconds, and then I realized how foolish my statement had sounded. There wasn't much of a reason to point out to him which pump my giant conversion van was at, especially when it was the only vehicle at a pump. Of course, you all probably thought of that the moment you read my quoted statement.

After blinking a few times (habit), I smiled and said, "Yes, that's a good point." I paused again. "Just habit, I guess." Joey was still staring at me with an "I don't get this guy" look as I said that, but after another moment, he smiled and said, "Have a good one." I replied with something akin to "You too!" and walked out.

This break in the usual workings of my relationship with people of this occupation caused me to think about how many different types of people for which I have developed a pattern of interaction. For a New Englander, this often means that everyone one doesn't know is to be talked with as little as possible. I am a very spontaneous person...

Banana phone.

...Sorry, I've been waiting to say that since I started writing this, and that seemed like the perfect opportunity. Anyway, I am very spontaneous, and so this New Englander trait is somewhat lost on me, but only somewhat. I still fall into relational patterns with people, and fairly often. I just didn't fully realize it until that moment. After that very short conversation with someone who is just as interesting (probably more interesting) than myself, I resolved to say perfectly acceptable things to people who I had decided would not be fit to talk to. It's a form of prejudice, really; at least, that is my first impression. Yeah, irony.

A day or two later, I was dropping my brother off at a friends' house so that he could go skiing with them, and a series of raves and rants caused me to begin ranting and raving about the fact that, unlike most people much younger than me and pretty much everyone my age, I did not have a job. I was feeling very upset about the fact that I never get around to doing important life things like that (college had been weighing heavily upon me that morning as well), and I sort of took it out on Charles. However, for once (I gripe about the things I ought to do and rarely actually do them) I decided that I was going to take the initiative and apply for a job. I would go home and search for opportunities, and somehow, some way, I was going to find a place that was hiring.

At that revelatory, inspirational moment, I remembered that I had to stop for gas on the way home. Curses! Something was going to impede my mad dash towards success and the end of procrastination. I begrudgingly shifted into reverse, pulled out of the driveway, and headed off toward the Irving station.

I stepped inside the box five minutes later and did my regular routine. As I began to walk out, the guy with whom I just performed my regular routine said, "Hey, do you want a job?"

Now, when I was younger, people who worked at restaurants and supermarkets used to play a mean trick on me. I would say something witty or just plain spontaneous to either the waitress or the checkout lady, and that person would say, "Say, I like you! Do you need a job? Well, anytime you do, just give me a call." I would smile big, develop an instantaneous crush on her (usually the waitresses, not so much the checkout ladies) and then realize as we drove away from the restaurant/supermarket that I hadn't gotten her number. I wouldn't able to call her, and thus her offer of a job was null.

Years later, I realized that the person didn't even own the place, so there was no way she could guarantee me a job. I developed suspicions instead of crushes after that.

When this guy offered me a job, all of these memories came rushing back to me. I stood in silence and did some blinking/thinking. The guy took my silence the wrong way, and began to make offers. "You can do part-time, full time, weekdays, weekends, what do you want?" It was at that point that I remembered a spontaneous, routine-breaking moment I had shared with the same guy just before Christmastime. He had been wearing a Santa hat, and I had been in a hurry as I often was. I had asked for gas and given the money, and he had responded, "Merry what?" It took me a moment, but I had bitten and replied, "Merry Christmas." I'd liked the people who worked there after that.

Still, the first thing that came to my lips was, "You sound desperate." He did!

He replied, "What, are you kidding? I'm the best freaking boss in the world!" I understood two things then.

1. He was serious.

2. He was the manager, and if I did want a job there, I probably shouldn't have said that.

Still, the first thing that came to my lips was, "Oh, you're serious?" I was seriously blowing the conversation. He didn't seem to mind, and he gave me an application. He told me to fill it out and bring it back. I did and brought it back later that same day. Talk about your answer to prayer. The moment I stopped whining about what I needed to do and acted in faith, God provided. He does it every time in some way or another. I just hardly ever do my part.

I was walking to a guitar lesson even later that same day when I came upon another opportunity to practice what I had been thinking about lately. Now, I don't usually walk to the guitar lessons that I give, much less in the winter. However, my guitar lesson was scheduled at 1pm and my mom's far-away doctor appointment was scheduled about the same time. So she dropped me off at the library after handing in my application and I walked from there to my lesson, partially so that I wouldn't be super early, and partially for the experience.

It was cold, and I worried for my guitar, but it was largely enjoyable. While I was walking down the street, a man exited the house directly across the street from me and began walking parallel to my path. We walked for a few minutes without talking, and then I called, "Nice day for a walk, huh?"

He smiled without looking and responded, "Yeah, today, anyway." He was about forty-five and seemed open to conversation.

I continued. "Yeah, the sun's actually out."

"That's what I'm doing. Running." It took me a minute to realize that he was referring to my first comment, and I had said "walk," not "run." Besides, he was jogging at best. Still, I didn't want to discourage him from running, so I went silent for about thirty seconds.

He and I both turned onto the same street, and I decided to continue the conversation. "For once, I'm actually walking to a guitar lesson." I sort of emphasized the word "walk."

"What's that?" he asked from across the street. I repeated myself and he responded positively. We walked/jogged/ran in silence for a little longer, and then took off another street in different directions. "Well, have a good guitar lesson," he called.

"Enjoy your walk!" I responded. He called out something in the half-hearted affirmative and our contact ceased. It occurred to me that he had likely thought that I was taking a guitar lesson instead of teaching it. This pride-related disturbance only bothered me for a moment, though, as I reflected on my communication with this fellow creation of God. I wondered if our conversation would have any impact on anything in that man's life. It had certainly impacted mine.

Now that I am an adult and am allowed to, I shall have to talk to strangers more often. At the moment, I am going to go down to the Irving station and enter the box to talk to my prospective employer. Hopefully I'll have the job by the end of today.

I wrote this post while eating coffee cake and listening to Neal Morse. I heartily recommend both of them. Blogging takes a long time, as I am a long-winded writer. Fortunately, both of the aforementioned treats can be enjoyed for a long time.

A song that my band will never play

Wait Up For You

I wish I could wait up for you,
But all I can afford's a backward glance
I wish I could grow up with you,
But I dont' think I'll ever get the chance
Now I can't say I know,
What the future will show,
I wish I could wait up for you,
But I really have to go.

I wish I could wait up for you,
But I feel as if I'm being dragged away
I wish I could have gotten off,
But I'm traveling too fast to jump this train
Now I am stuck right here
Watching my chance disappear
I wish I could wait up for you,
But all that I can leave you is a tear.

There will always be another
'Till my heart rate and I settle down,
But there will always be a tinge of sadness
Every time I see you come around
Now, love is no mistake,
So for His timing's sake,
I wish I could wait up for you,
But I may have to let you go.

That's all I have for now. I still need a bridge and maybe another verse. I think the third stanza is the chorus, but it might be the first one.

Just a quick thought before I head out to do a show

You have no idea how many things I have either resisted doing or else forced myself to do simply becuase today I am playing Jesus for our last Godspell, Jr show. But I'm supposed to be playing Jesus every day, aren't I? People should think I'm like Jesus all the time. Why don't I think of it that way every other day of the year?

What I Did Today

Everything is blackness.

Well, not everything.

Everything I can see may be black, but my other senses are having the time of their lives. I can smell sawdust, the faint smell that scotch tape makes when it is placed on your face, and my own sweat. All of these sensations are thick, hanging over and around my head. I can feel the rough planks around me. There are only hard angles in this almost-coffin.

The parallel stops my breathing for a minute, but I push it away and breathe deeply. I am not locked inside, unsure though I am of how much air takes up the space around me. I can hear footsteps coming nearer. This is unexpected. I wait for a voice to be attached to the feet that have stopped just in front of me.

"I'm going to move you now."

Before I can respond, I am moving forward faster than I would like. I hope it is forward. After the first few feet, I have lost all sense of direction. The darkness comes to an abrupt stop. I hear the voice (which I now recognize as being named Will) shouting to someone else. His voice slowly leaves the range of my hearing, and I am left once again to myself in the darkness.

Minutes later, another pair of footsteps, another voice. I shall soon emerge.

Et tu, Judas?

So the other night we performed Godspell at the Methodist Church in my hometown. The title of this post is a line that I thought of during the most serious part of the play, and I had spent the last four musical numbers building up emotion for the scene. Then suddenly this line comes to my head and the tiniest bit of mirth surfaces. I hate my mind sometimes. But I pushed it down right away. It would be the perfect line... if it wasn't supposed to be serious.

I prayed before the show, asking God to help make this my best possible portrayal of Jesus (in part because it would be my second-to-last time doing it). As far as I could tell, it was, but we can never please everyone, can we? My sister Sophie cried through the whole finale and afterward because she thought I had actually died. Even when I completely succeed, I feel horrible. Shucks.

Great stuff going down musically lately. heretoday performed at my friend's church, but that was yesterday. And today we're gone. We're talking about doing a Christmas show with lots of Relient K and Trans-Siberan, which should be fun. A few things went wrong, as they always do, but nothing horrible. The sub-par sound quality of the video hopefully disguises the fact that my amp inexplicably stopped working when I switched on the distortion. That's why you can see me playing during the bridge of "Hey" but all you can hear are drums. Emily started the piano solo two beats slow, but Charles saved it halfway through for us. We had a great time, though, and people worshipped. Hooray!

For some stupid reason, the video of the song that we performed virtually flawlessly was corrupted. Ah well. We did okay on this one.

Writing blog!

I've created a new blog, see, and I want you to read it. In fact, I want you to follow it. So don't try to be cool. Just do it.

http://ToughGuysWearBlue.blogspot.com/

It's a place for all of my writing, and that's about it.