Double Jeopardy

Tonight, both my life and my job may have been put in danger.

First, my life.

Since Katie is not feeling well I need to walk to work. The three minutes of sun, drizzle, breeze, or absolute darkness aren't so bad.

Unless there are coyotes.

Tonight I was taking my normal stroll, and up ahead of me on the path was, yes, a coyote. It was running, then it stopped, and stared straight in my direction as I was walking toward it. I am unsure of the likelihood that a coyote would attack a human in the suburbs, but I'd like to think it is high. Especially since I smelled like Mexican food, which coyotes love.

What could I do? I didn't want to try to walk toward it and hope it would ignore me, like I would to a goose. Nor did I want to walk away, for fear that the trip back into the overshadowed path would encourage it to try and eat me. So, I reached into the recesses of my past, and remembered the last experience I had with suburban coyotes.

That night, outside of my pastor's house, my friend Mary Beth (a native Arizonian) and I were outside and confronted by suburban coyotes, albeit at a distance. I freaked out, but not MB. She started stamping and clapping and yelling, "Ay ay ay ay!" (Read it more like a long "a" sound than a Mexican fiesta chant, which would likely have attracted the coyotes.) The wild beasts ran away, and we were safe.

So, I imitated my Arizonian amiga. I stamped my feet, and I clapped my hands. I didn't yell, though. I figured I'd save a little more gusto in case it started running at me and I needed to surprise it. And, you know what happened? It ran away. Instead of eating my face, it ran away. And I made it home safely.

Now, my job.

A dessert had been placed upon a tray, ready to be carried out to a table, when a small piece of said dessert fell off of the plate, and onto the tray. This small bite would obviously have been thrown away, so a coworker standing by eyed it, looked at me, and then eyed it again. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "If you're gonna eat it, don't be sneaky about it. That justs looks suspicious. Just eat it."
Him: "You think so?"
"It's just gonna get thrown away. Whatever, man."

As he ate it, a manager saw him and totally called him out on it. Like, seriously.

Panic struck.

Later on, as I was leaving work, I told said manager the story, that it had fallen off the plate, and that I had peer pressured him into it. He wasn't just flippantly eating off of people's plates. In fact, he would never do such a thing. The response was that he could potentially have lost his job for that. I said it was probably more my peer pressure than him just eating food.

The response? It was something like, "Ok. Good night."

That did not sound promising.

Katie's Down

If she were a Honda, I would say she broke on her own accord.

Katie Corolla is down for a bit. I was driving and heard something snaptacular in the engine. Like any dude would do, I pulled over and popped the hood, as if I knew what I should be looking for. The engine was still there, so I got back in and continued my 15 minute trip down the freeway.

When I arrived at my friend's house I again popped the hood, got on Google, and tried to figure out why (a) my battery light was on, and (b) why my power steering was out. Turned out it was because (c) my alternator belt had broken. That explained the snapping noise under the hood.

So, I stayed overnight and fixed the belt the next morning. I felt like such a dude. I can fix cars! That's something that automatically makes a guy feel especially manly.

Just as quickly as it was fixed, nay, even quicker, something else went wrong. The crankshaft pulley (aka wheel connected to the engine that makes all the belts go) fell off. Yeah, that's right. It just fell off. All the belts came loose.

Great.

One step forward, two steps back.

I can't fix that without the tools, so now I've got to have it towed to a shop. La-a-ame.

There are lessons to be learned here:
1. Anyone can fix cars. I mean, if I can, you can.
2. Always have a snack handy in case you get stuck somewhere.
3. No matter how good you feel about something, there's something else that will humble you right after.

Windows Updates? Crap-tastic.

I seriously think that Windows updates its programs to fail.

Seriously.

Media Player used to work fine. Then I downloaded the "upgrade" after months of avoiding it, and now it sucks. Piece of poop.

I think they are intentionally crashing computers so we think they got "old." Then we'll go buy new ones.

Freakin jerks.

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Let It Rock, Wilson Hall

I never thought I would be proud of Wilson Hall.

Check these.

First, three guys from Wilson Hall at Judson (my alma mater) make a silly video.



Then, some girls at Liberty University decide to one up them.



They obviously had no idea what kind of ridiculous ambition and tenacity Wilson has.



It leaves a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. I lived in Wilson for a year, then became an RA in the "rival" dorm, Lindner. I always said the Wilson/Lindner rivalry was like the White Sox/Cubs one: Sox fans hate Cubs fans, and Cubs fans don't know there's another team in Chicago. Replace "Sox fans" with "Wilson", "Cubs fans" with "Lindner", and "Chicago" with "Judson", and you've pretty much got a feel of the situation.

It wouldn't have been so bad except that residents, student leaders, and RA's took it to a point that was more personal than it was spirited, and it actually hurt more than it helped. At least for me. I have a bitterness toward the hall, which is hard to get over.

Even still, if every college student at least had the opportunity to participate in something like this video (just one of the many exciting ventures WH residents may enjoy), I think they will have a more fulfilling college experience. And that, there, is the sweetness.

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Leaving Florida

It's already gone.

Seriously, this has been one of the fastest weeks of my life. I can't believe I just spent 8 days across the country. I feel like two days ago I was getting my bearings driving around these sometimes familiar roads. Now I'm leaving.

I would tell you all about my trip and post pictures and all that, but I'm not one for typing about trips, nor did I take any pictures. (My camera decided it had had enough of this cruel existence.)

Briefly, though, I spent time with my family and lots of friends, played music, and was here for my nephew's 2nd birthday. Exciting!

Back to schedules, normalcy, and the familiar.

I only wish I could take my bed with me.

Joy in Community

Today has been pretty great.

I spent some quality time with a great friend, and was able to bless and be blessed in the process. A little time, plus a little vulnerability, equals authentic relationships.

Before that happened, I had a hallmate randomly come over and give our apartment ice cream. Cookie dough ice cream! I was so happy. And now I am going to go eat some.

I love community.

Reason: Men's Apprehension

I didn't have any confidence issues.

Before.

Saturday night after work I went with some friends to Antipasto, a bar/venue with a live band, Los Bandaleros, that was really fun. Being a Latin band, there were plenty of people on the dance floor. And for those of you who don't know, I like to dance.

So, being that the only girl I knew there was with her husband-to-be, I decided I would just ask any of the other girls on the floor to dance. In reality, I was a bit nervous about it. No one wants to be turned down, right? But I figured everyone was there to have a good time, so it should be no sweat.

First, there were two girls in front of me dancing together. Jen told me to ask one of them, to which I responded, "They're totally having fun together." She said, "Trust me, they're not," implying that girls really want to be asked to dance. So, I confidently asked if either wanted to dance, and they both said, "No, thanks."

Then, on a second attempt, another guy and I asked a different two girls, going with the wingman approach. This time, the girl I asked said, "Actually, she's my date." And they proceeded to ignore us.

Finally, a girl practically dancing on me was definitely interested, so I asked her to dance. She didn't say no! She actually just turned her head and danced away. Literally, danced away, with herself.

After that painful trio of turndowns, I still had the courage to use the wingman approach and ended up dancing with a pair of ladies. It was good times.

But, for the record, if any ladies out there wonder why guys don't just go up and ask girls to dance, talk, or whatever, read above.

A Good Story

It's not mine, but you will enjoy it.

(I feel like I should have written, "... so you will enjoy it.")

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One Smart Feller

A friend reminded me of this. Read aloud:

One smart feller, he felt smart.
Two smart fellers, they both felt smart.
Three smart fellers and they all felt smart.

If you made it past that, try to repeat it from memory.

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Not Hooked on Plenty of Fish, or, The End of the Line

The past few days have been rough.

One of the hardest things, I find, is to be honest with myself about my motives, the reasons for why I do things. When these get called into question, I usually end up getting inwardly tied up and frustrated. Today, presently, I am experiencing such tension.

For those who have been following along, you've journeyed with me as I have been exploring the online dating service PlentyofFish.com (PoF). It's a free site, which gives one the opportunity to try online dating with no financial risk. At first, it's quite addictive, though a week or so in you'll begin to see that you've found nearly everyone within 50 miles of you in your first week. Consequently, the addiction wears off.

True to my word, here are some personal experiences, and the culmination which explains the start of this post.

I was in conversation with two different people. We'll call them Melissa and Amy. Melissa had contacted me. I noticed we had a few things in common, including church, music, and being over drama. So, we talked a bit, connecting on a few of those items. After two weeks or so of that we decided to meet up for some disc golf or comparable outing.

Amy is one I had contacted. I thought she had a cute picture, and her profile had just enough connection points to figure it was worth a shot. We talked for about a week, at the end of which, she included her number and asked me to contact her this week.

I was going to go on the date with Melissa, and while I thought we had a few things in common, I didn't think we'd totally connect. A few months ago, I went on a similar date, one with little potential. A friend reminded me that I had decided afterward that if there didn't seem to be much potential in a relationship, I wasn't going to go on the date. Well, here I was in the situation, doing the exact opposite of what I decided I would do. So, I ended up canceling.

I not only canceled my date, I also canceled my PoF account, canceling Amy's number as well.

Why would I do such a thing?

It was totally a motive check. I had to ask myself, do I know what I'm looking for and am I ready for it? Or am I just a little bored because it's summer, so I'm looking for something to do? If it's the first, then that could work. If it's the second, I probably shouldn't be dragging someone along, leading to the inevitable DTR that I keep not wanting to have. For me, it's more the second than the first.*

For some people, I think the online thing is good. For me, right now, it's not the best option. I need to be in a place where I'm a little more sure of what I'm looking for, and why I'm looking for it.

Got any answers?

Go fish.

*There's more to it than what I've written, I just don't want to blog about it. Person-to-person I'll totally go into more detail.

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