Ways that ryan is screwed up #139b:
For the next week, i'm looking after hana, the family dog and arguably more spoiled than the other 5 of my mothers actual children. for most of today i was out doing, you know, youth pastory things (like drinking way too much coffee at Misudo), and from time to time i would think of poor hana, locked up in my house just sitting around waiting for me to come home and pay attention to her. and when i came home, she was all happy to see me, and i played with her for about 10 minutes, then i was done playing, and went about my usual routine of checking email and making food and watching stuff, but not without a very teeny nagging sense of guilt for not paying more attention to hana. and i thought to myself "that's why i like cats better; they don't need you"
It's not screwed up to like cats better. that part's normal.
The screwed up part comes now: i realized that i feel the same way about hana needing me as i do about girls needing me (if anyone ever figures out how my brain works please tell me). cats don't need you, at least they would never tell you that they needed you. and when you get a cat to like you and jump up on your lap, you've accomplished something in a weird sort of way. whereas when hana jumps up on the couch next to me while i'm watching stargate, i know that it's because she's a very social animal and needs attention, which i give to her on the assumption that she will go away and let me watch my mostly-good tv show.
I think it all comes down to me being very, very selfish. i want to do with my time what i will, and not have it held captive by some obligation. because i enjoy hanging out with kids, doing "work" is mostly just fun. but i wonder if the fun-ness is directly linked to the new-ness, or the do-it-better-than-the-last-guy-ness. and when it gets same old, same old, and it's generally agreed that i am doing a good job, and i hate the kids for being stupid, and if i do my thing then from obligation, will i hate it? when the kids need me and i no longer need them, what will i do?
break up with them?
September 22, 2004
September 18, 2004
if i were content, i would go here. and i would be funny and full of interesting, meaningful information about ryan potter, transient youth pastor, keeper of kidneys, feng shui master extrordinare.
It's now official: i am a youth pastor. the bulletin in church on sunday even had my name on the front with all the other "actual" pastors. what's up with that? i keep wondering if the church knows what they are doing, if they somehow have this idealized picture of me. the truth is, i have intentionally been myself, perhaps even more myself than usual, so they won't think i'm someone i'm not. it's just crazy to me that they would let me be IN CHARGE of anything. i know that i really care about the kids, and i really want them to be awesome, and i think i can help, but to be IN CHARGE?? well , i guess even i had to pretend to grow up sometime. it's funny for me to try and think of a highlight from last week- any time i hung out with kids pretty much was a highlight. like JAM last sunday.
What better way to start off a youth ministry than with a waterfight? kicking off any ministry with a waterfight seems like a good idea to me. i would have come to anything in college if it started with a water fight. maybe a "mom's in ministry" meeting wouldn't appreciate a waterfight, but i feel pretty strongly that they should. strange things, water balloons. 2 guys can work hard for 30 minutes to fill as many water balloons as they possibly can, and 30 middle schoolers can use them all in 2 minutes. seems there's a direct relationship between waterballoons and kids having this insatiable urge to nail eachother with them. who knew?
And on thursday i had the first real "incandescence" meeting. "incandescence" is the high school team that, with my supervision, basically runs the middle school group. they are "incandescence" with the quote marks because at this point we needed to call it something, so i stuck with what cami named it 2 years ago. but it's gonna get renamed soon. hopefully to something easier to spell. we had supper together, and then i handed out some stuff that i thought they should know, and we talked about it for a while. and it was so much fun to watch them have fun and want to learn and do well, and have it be because of a meeting that i initiated and organized and arranged.
And as i write this i am sitting at my computer set up in my own house. well, technically, it belongs to the people who will be back in june, but till then, it's mine. i asked the lady if it was ok to move the furniture, and she said "yeah, move some stuff just so you feel at home". there's now not a single piece of furniture in it's original location. but i do feel more at home. i had to take a bunch of pictures of how everything was so i can move it back. for them in june. but i really think my way's better.
So, not only am i living in my own house, but i am now an official youth pastor of Kurume Bible Church, which is much harder to say than KBF. my first official act as the officially hired professional youth pastor was to go to a church council retreat, which has in fact very little to do with youth ministry. but i got to sit around and listen to all these people that i used to be afraid of tell stories about themselves and their children. i even got up the gumption to tell one of my own:
The players: 15 year old ryan, 98 year old security guard, crew of japanese police
The setting: tokorozawa station (the potter kids used this everyday to get to school)
The time: 4:00pm
The fall day was ending crisply, and unsuspectingly our hero made his way to where he had parked his bike that morning on the way to school. As he scanned the rows of bikes, a semi-familiar feeling of annoyance began rising through him, until, when he could bare it no more, he fell to his knees amongst the crowds of people surging around him, raised his head and fists heavenward, and cried in a loud voice, "Why me, God??". For lo, his bike had been stolen. He was left with only 2 clear options: 1. spend the better part of an hour walking home, or 2. return the favor, and steal someone elses bike and use it to ride home. For reasons that will forever remain a mystery, our hero chose the second option, and began to walk around in a clearly nonchalant fashion, one which in no way could have betrayed his true motive, which was, in fact, to check out bikes from the corner of his eye to discern their status: locked? poorly locked? unlocked?
At long last, he found one that would suit his needs. An off road bike, which was about as needed in Japan as a hair dryer in the Savanna, had been locked with a combination lock, and had been, as the ivy that had grown up through the spokes attested, for all intents and purposes, abandoned. Through previous experiences that I'm sure were altruistic in nature, our hero had the skill needed to defeat the simple combination lock, and, knowing that he who hesitates is lost, immediately got down to his unfortunate but necessary business.
No sooner had ten minutes gone by that our hero suddenly felt himself being roughly wrenched to his feet by the collar of his shirt, courtesy of the nearby parking lot security guard, a man who looked about the age my Grampa's Grampa would look. A good, strong 12 inches shorter than the American, he had, it seems, been watching the whole scene unfold, and, far from being sympathetic to the situation that had been forced on the hero of our little story, it seemed that he had it in his head to give this little punk of a kid a few pieces of his mind. The skill in Japanese needed to understand the subject matter of the geriatric, but clearly irate, security guard, was, unfortunately, far above the actual skill level of Ryan, but there was little doubt that, in his day, the security guard had been forced to build a bicycle from a pile of iron ore if he was stranded.
Through this whole experience our hero kept his cool, knowing from experience that these things usually just blow over, and the worst that would happen is he would be going home using his feet instead of using wheels. The panic level of our champion skyrocketed, however, when he realized the security guard was using his radio to call the small police station nearby. Why he chose to stay instead of running will only ever be known to him, and perhaps some choice confidants, but popular opinion is that there was a reason, and it was a good one. The police were on the scene no less than 2 minutes later to relieve the aged guard of his prize. In fact, once they were in sight of the so-called "perpetrator", the 3 police officers that were dispatched broke, unnecessarily, into a full sprint in the middle of a crowded shopping area, causing something of a scene themselves. Now in the hands of the "law", our lead character found himself treated very roughly, complete with arm-behind-the-back submission hold all the way to the police station.
Making the most of the few minutes before the impending interrogation and torture, the champion came up with a plan that had served him well in the past, and would serve him well in the years to come: feign ignorance. The ever-intimidating police would ask a question in Japanese, and would be answered in suspiciously simple Japanese that was so horrible it almost seemed that it might have been intentionally manufactured to sound so. Might. When asked for his phone number, parents name, and school name, this tactic was utilized with astounding success. The only moment of concern came when the fuzz illegally went through his backpack looking for identification or school ID cards, but they were cleverly concealed in the front pocket of the bag, which was so unlikely a place to keep such things that it was not searched.
The police were at a loss as to what to do with this unidentified alien. He had been caught red-handed, so, it was generally agreed that something must be done. Among the few contents of the backpack was a folder of piano music (to add insult to injury our martyr had been subject to a piano lesson that same day). After some discussion, the book of piano music was handed to him, open, along with a simple, one word, unmistakably English command: "SING". In the moment of silent shock that the unfortunate soon-to-be celebrity wondered if there were sufficient cracks in the floor to melt through, a police officer went into the hall of the mini police station and issued a general invitation to the concert of humiliation. The turnout was immediate and overwhelming. Suddenly faced with what certainly felt to be the entire staff of the Japanese self-defense force expecting a vocal concert from a book of piano music, our quick-thinking champion made the executive decision to not sing the "Tarantella", which of course has no words, and is meant for an instrument that is capable of producing multiple tones simultaniously, but rather to sing a contemporary Christian worship song while looking at the book of music. This he did, and performed the critically acclaimed "As The Deer" near flawlessly. This humiliation was seen as sufficient recompense for attempted bike theivery, and he was forcibly and gracelessly expelled from the police station. To walk home.
It's now official: i am a youth pastor. the bulletin in church on sunday even had my name on the front with all the other "actual" pastors. what's up with that? i keep wondering if the church knows what they are doing, if they somehow have this idealized picture of me. the truth is, i have intentionally been myself, perhaps even more myself than usual, so they won't think i'm someone i'm not. it's just crazy to me that they would let me be IN CHARGE of anything. i know that i really care about the kids, and i really want them to be awesome, and i think i can help, but to be IN CHARGE?? well , i guess even i had to pretend to grow up sometime. it's funny for me to try and think of a highlight from last week- any time i hung out with kids pretty much was a highlight. like JAM last sunday.
What better way to start off a youth ministry than with a waterfight? kicking off any ministry with a waterfight seems like a good idea to me. i would have come to anything in college if it started with a water fight. maybe a "mom's in ministry" meeting wouldn't appreciate a waterfight, but i feel pretty strongly that they should. strange things, water balloons. 2 guys can work hard for 30 minutes to fill as many water balloons as they possibly can, and 30 middle schoolers can use them all in 2 minutes. seems there's a direct relationship between waterballoons and kids having this insatiable urge to nail eachother with them. who knew?
And on thursday i had the first real "incandescence" meeting. "incandescence" is the high school team that, with my supervision, basically runs the middle school group. they are "incandescence" with the quote marks because at this point we needed to call it something, so i stuck with what cami named it 2 years ago. but it's gonna get renamed soon. hopefully to something easier to spell. we had supper together, and then i handed out some stuff that i thought they should know, and we talked about it for a while. and it was so much fun to watch them have fun and want to learn and do well, and have it be because of a meeting that i initiated and organized and arranged.
And as i write this i am sitting at my computer set up in my own house. well, technically, it belongs to the people who will be back in june, but till then, it's mine. i asked the lady if it was ok to move the furniture, and she said "yeah, move some stuff just so you feel at home". there's now not a single piece of furniture in it's original location. but i do feel more at home. i had to take a bunch of pictures of how everything was so i can move it back. for them in june. but i really think my way's better.
So, not only am i living in my own house, but i am now an official youth pastor of Kurume Bible Church, which is much harder to say than KBF. my first official act as the officially hired professional youth pastor was to go to a church council retreat, which has in fact very little to do with youth ministry. but i got to sit around and listen to all these people that i used to be afraid of tell stories about themselves and their children. i even got up the gumption to tell one of my own:
The players: 15 year old ryan, 98 year old security guard, crew of japanese police
The setting: tokorozawa station (the potter kids used this everyday to get to school)
The time: 4:00pm
The fall day was ending crisply, and unsuspectingly our hero made his way to where he had parked his bike that morning on the way to school. As he scanned the rows of bikes, a semi-familiar feeling of annoyance began rising through him, until, when he could bare it no more, he fell to his knees amongst the crowds of people surging around him, raised his head and fists heavenward, and cried in a loud voice, "Why me, God??". For lo, his bike had been stolen. He was left with only 2 clear options: 1. spend the better part of an hour walking home, or 2. return the favor, and steal someone elses bike and use it to ride home. For reasons that will forever remain a mystery, our hero chose the second option, and began to walk around in a clearly nonchalant fashion, one which in no way could have betrayed his true motive, which was, in fact, to check out bikes from the corner of his eye to discern their status: locked? poorly locked? unlocked?
At long last, he found one that would suit his needs. An off road bike, which was about as needed in Japan as a hair dryer in the Savanna, had been locked with a combination lock, and had been, as the ivy that had grown up through the spokes attested, for all intents and purposes, abandoned. Through previous experiences that I'm sure were altruistic in nature, our hero had the skill needed to defeat the simple combination lock, and, knowing that he who hesitates is lost, immediately got down to his unfortunate but necessary business.
No sooner had ten minutes gone by that our hero suddenly felt himself being roughly wrenched to his feet by the collar of his shirt, courtesy of the nearby parking lot security guard, a man who looked about the age my Grampa's Grampa would look. A good, strong 12 inches shorter than the American, he had, it seems, been watching the whole scene unfold, and, far from being sympathetic to the situation that had been forced on the hero of our little story, it seemed that he had it in his head to give this little punk of a kid a few pieces of his mind. The skill in Japanese needed to understand the subject matter of the geriatric, but clearly irate, security guard, was, unfortunately, far above the actual skill level of Ryan, but there was little doubt that, in his day, the security guard had been forced to build a bicycle from a pile of iron ore if he was stranded.
Through this whole experience our hero kept his cool, knowing from experience that these things usually just blow over, and the worst that would happen is he would be going home using his feet instead of using wheels. The panic level of our champion skyrocketed, however, when he realized the security guard was using his radio to call the small police station nearby. Why he chose to stay instead of running will only ever be known to him, and perhaps some choice confidants, but popular opinion is that there was a reason, and it was a good one. The police were on the scene no less than 2 minutes later to relieve the aged guard of his prize. In fact, once they were in sight of the so-called "perpetrator", the 3 police officers that were dispatched broke, unnecessarily, into a full sprint in the middle of a crowded shopping area, causing something of a scene themselves. Now in the hands of the "law", our lead character found himself treated very roughly, complete with arm-behind-the-back submission hold all the way to the police station.
Making the most of the few minutes before the impending interrogation and torture, the champion came up with a plan that had served him well in the past, and would serve him well in the years to come: feign ignorance. The ever-intimidating police would ask a question in Japanese, and would be answered in suspiciously simple Japanese that was so horrible it almost seemed that it might have been intentionally manufactured to sound so. Might. When asked for his phone number, parents name, and school name, this tactic was utilized with astounding success. The only moment of concern came when the fuzz illegally went through his backpack looking for identification or school ID cards, but they were cleverly concealed in the front pocket of the bag, which was so unlikely a place to keep such things that it was not searched.
The police were at a loss as to what to do with this unidentified alien. He had been caught red-handed, so, it was generally agreed that something must be done. Among the few contents of the backpack was a folder of piano music (to add insult to injury our martyr had been subject to a piano lesson that same day). After some discussion, the book of piano music was handed to him, open, along with a simple, one word, unmistakably English command: "SING". In the moment of silent shock that the unfortunate soon-to-be celebrity wondered if there were sufficient cracks in the floor to melt through, a police officer went into the hall of the mini police station and issued a general invitation to the concert of humiliation. The turnout was immediate and overwhelming. Suddenly faced with what certainly felt to be the entire staff of the Japanese self-defense force expecting a vocal concert from a book of piano music, our quick-thinking champion made the executive decision to not sing the "Tarantella", which of course has no words, and is meant for an instrument that is capable of producing multiple tones simultaniously, but rather to sing a contemporary Christian worship song while looking at the book of music. This he did, and performed the critically acclaimed "As The Deer" near flawlessly. This humiliation was seen as sufficient recompense for attempted bike theivery, and he was forcibly and gracelessly expelled from the police station. To walk home.
September 07, 2004
Nothing makes me feel better than to trick people into reading this far more frequently than i update on the goings on of my life. just kidding. i know from experience with tre's blog and ro's blog that people who don't update their blogs are hated. so, i guess i appreciate you all not overtly hating me. must disguise the hate.
But seriously, where to start. part of the reason for the delay in blogging is due to the fact that i am an ass, and i fear i must include some proof of that in today's blog. so, without further ado....
Some of you may remember that yvette girl who i took to japan with me. we nicknamed her "Yeti", (and by we i mean cami.) well, i'll skip to the end of the story right away: i broke up with her. we started dating on the 23rd or 24th of july, and i broke up with her on the 25th of august. over the phone. i deserve multiple punches for that, i know. my reasons for breaking up with her are, i think, good enough, but that doesn't change the fact that i feel like a huge oaf who was given something delicate and breakable, and, despite my best intentions, i broke it anyways. yvette really liked me. and i really wish that i had waited until near the end of our time together to talk to her about dating, instead of starting on the way over. in the plane i figured we were gonna end up dating anyways, so might as well hang out in japan with my girlfriend, instead of with someone who i have an ambiguous, almost-dating relationship with. but, in my selfishness, we started dating before we should have, and i was remaining aloof and unattached while as a result of my actions yvette was getting more and more attached. in the end, though, i realized that she was infinitely more committed to me than i was to her, and i realized that continuing the relationship would be really bad for both of us- for her because she deserves someone who is as crazy about her as she is about them, and for me because i would continue to have a love life that came to me, one which i would have to put very little effort into. at first, anyways. i have to give yvette credit- i don't think she would have put up with my apathetic affections for much longer. you go girl.
Well, that's said and done. it's kinda a sore subject, mostly because yvette is so wonderful i wonder if i've done the right thing. and i know i've been an ass either way, which doesn't help. but let's see what news isn't sad, depressing, or serious:
Me and brents, the 19 year old brother, watched some fireworks on sunday. turns out they shoot them off from a golf course that isn't too well secured, if you know what i mean. so we sat in the middle of the green on a golf course we broke into watching them shoot fireworks off like 200 yards away. they have these gargantuan ones that shake the earth and sky, and the burning embers were falling around us. serisouly, any closer and we would have needed earplugs. it's going to be tough being a youth pastor, i think. me and brents can get away with doing stuff like that, but the kids are gonna want to do stuff like that and i'll have to say "guys, now let's be mature and responsible. what do you think your parents would say if they found out we broke into a golf course and had an awesome time watching the fireworks of the apocalypse?" when, really, deep down inside, i will want more than anything to do it with them. like spitting fireballs: it's fun for me to do, but i have to pretend that i think it's a horrible idea so the kids won't do it. at least, not while i'm watching or in charge.
Speaking of the kids, my youth first youth group is this sunday!! it's the middle school group, which has been called JAM (Jesus And Me) for years. i want to change it, but i'm coming up against some pretty stiff opposition. yesterday i went to CAJ (Christian Academy in Japan) to hang out with whoever i ran into. it's really scary for me, which is why i called someone to hang out with. for those of you who never stopped to examine my social style (shame on you)i do much better with situations where people come to me and be my friend. my introverted shyness really comes out when i'm in situations where i don't know very many people. it's actually really scary. good thing i'm a good faker. i hide my 50lb. shyness behind an outgoing, brash stick man. and if you can't fathom that metaphor, it's not my fault. the emperor clearly must have the greatest skills in english to create a metaphor like that.
an addendum:
while travelling the narrow passageways of shibuya station i found what can only be described as a photo journal of my love life about a year ago. the only reason it's worth talking about is that the girl i was interested in at that point ended up dating cami, who is not only not me, but is my younger brother. so, here's the first picture:
notice the horns? that's deidre for you. then, much to my obvious dismay, we have the second picture
no caption needed; the pictures say it all.
ah, hair care products. i will cry when the day comes that you are not a beacon of light in this dreary land, shining your truth about love from posters in busy train stations.
But seriously, where to start. part of the reason for the delay in blogging is due to the fact that i am an ass, and i fear i must include some proof of that in today's blog. so, without further ado....
Some of you may remember that yvette girl who i took to japan with me. we nicknamed her "Yeti", (and by we i mean cami.) well, i'll skip to the end of the story right away: i broke up with her. we started dating on the 23rd or 24th of july, and i broke up with her on the 25th of august. over the phone. i deserve multiple punches for that, i know. my reasons for breaking up with her are, i think, good enough, but that doesn't change the fact that i feel like a huge oaf who was given something delicate and breakable, and, despite my best intentions, i broke it anyways. yvette really liked me. and i really wish that i had waited until near the end of our time together to talk to her about dating, instead of starting on the way over. in the plane i figured we were gonna end up dating anyways, so might as well hang out in japan with my girlfriend, instead of with someone who i have an ambiguous, almost-dating relationship with. but, in my selfishness, we started dating before we should have, and i was remaining aloof and unattached while as a result of my actions yvette was getting more and more attached. in the end, though, i realized that she was infinitely more committed to me than i was to her, and i realized that continuing the relationship would be really bad for both of us- for her because she deserves someone who is as crazy about her as she is about them, and for me because i would continue to have a love life that came to me, one which i would have to put very little effort into. at first, anyways. i have to give yvette credit- i don't think she would have put up with my apathetic affections for much longer. you go girl.
Well, that's said and done. it's kinda a sore subject, mostly because yvette is so wonderful i wonder if i've done the right thing. and i know i've been an ass either way, which doesn't help. but let's see what news isn't sad, depressing, or serious:
Me and brents, the 19 year old brother, watched some fireworks on sunday. turns out they shoot them off from a golf course that isn't too well secured, if you know what i mean. so we sat in the middle of the green on a golf course we broke into watching them shoot fireworks off like 200 yards away. they have these gargantuan ones that shake the earth and sky, and the burning embers were falling around us. serisouly, any closer and we would have needed earplugs. it's going to be tough being a youth pastor, i think. me and brents can get away with doing stuff like that, but the kids are gonna want to do stuff like that and i'll have to say "guys, now let's be mature and responsible. what do you think your parents would say if they found out we broke into a golf course and had an awesome time watching the fireworks of the apocalypse?" when, really, deep down inside, i will want more than anything to do it with them. like spitting fireballs: it's fun for me to do, but i have to pretend that i think it's a horrible idea so the kids won't do it. at least, not while i'm watching or in charge.
Speaking of the kids, my youth first youth group is this sunday!! it's the middle school group, which has been called JAM (Jesus And Me) for years. i want to change it, but i'm coming up against some pretty stiff opposition. yesterday i went to CAJ (Christian Academy in Japan) to hang out with whoever i ran into. it's really scary for me, which is why i called someone to hang out with. for those of you who never stopped to examine my social style (shame on you)i do much better with situations where people come to me and be my friend. my introverted shyness really comes out when i'm in situations where i don't know very many people. it's actually really scary. good thing i'm a good faker. i hide my 50lb. shyness behind an outgoing, brash stick man. and if you can't fathom that metaphor, it's not my fault. the emperor clearly must have the greatest skills in english to create a metaphor like that.
an addendum:
while travelling the narrow passageways of shibuya station i found what can only be described as a photo journal of my love life about a year ago. the only reason it's worth talking about is that the girl i was interested in at that point ended up dating cami, who is not only not me, but is my younger brother. so, here's the first picture:
notice the horns? that's deidre for you. then, much to my obvious dismay, we have the second picture
no caption needed; the pictures say it all.
ah, hair care products. i will cry when the day comes that you are not a beacon of light in this dreary land, shining your truth about love from posters in busy train stations.
August 26, 2004
August 25, 2004
BLAM! i'm a blog!!
well, well, well. what have we here.
Few things in life are better than takayama. that old beach cabin is where i want to be buried. that, or shot off into space on a shuttle driven by space monkeys. takayama, or tak (pronunciation: tAHk)is one of those places you almost expect to get over as time goes on, but instead you find new things to do, or old things that are still fun. there's this atmosphere about the place. not like "78% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, .93% argon, i'm a huge science nerd" type of atmosphere, but the "i'm gonna sit here in a wet swimsuit reading calvin and hobbes and listening to jack johnson" kinda atmosphere. not really as vital to life as the other one, but it sorta is at the same time. it's very "chill", as all the cool kids on glisan st. would say.
The weather at said beach cabin was perfect. we left just in time to avoid all them pesky typhoons that are coming through this time of year, although they do make for some pretty killer waves. nights were filled with various forms of debauchery, fire jumping, sword-fighting, and the like. one highlight was driving cami around on the back of a jetski. due to his deathgrip on my waist, he succeeded in pulling me off a total of 3 times. we topped 80kmh (49.711999999999996 mph for all you stinking americans out there). the thing was amazing. it's like driving a motorcycle, only there's none of them silly roads. or helmets, for that matter. the third time we fell off, we both actually skipped on the water. but, no blood, no foul.
Now that i'm back from tak, however, i am reminded that life must go on. my life, specifically. i never really realized just how impossibly difficult it is to get all the papers one needs to be a normal, contributing member of society. nothing can happen until i get my religious visa, which i can't get until the missions organization (OMF Int'l) officially approves of every single aspect of my person and sends some other office of OMF an officially written and signed letter on official registered paper which they can then give to some all-knowing, all-powerful japanese potentate, who holds in his (or her) hand the ability to single-handedly approve or deny my pathetic attempts to obtain a religious visa in spite of the horrible oppressive regulations. that done, i can get the paperwork that will allow me to do the other paperwork, that will allow me to get the stamp of my name registered, which i can then use to rent a house, the proof of which is necessary for me to get insured, after which, i may be allowed to walk around on the streets in broad daylight, without people stopping to openly gawk at my obvious lack of the right to filthy their native soil with my very presence.
i may have exaggerated one fact in that last paragraph.
The youth ministry is not going well. in fact, i have not yet intentionally "ministered" to a single youth. which would be bad, if i had started a youth group yet. i'm having my first meeting with some kids tomorrow at a little restaurant named "BLDY'S", which the little american circle of people i hang out with call "Bloodies". really piques your appetite, doesn't it? the 3 kids and i (one of which happens to be my brother brent) will be talking about what the youth groups should do, and when they should do it, and what we would like to see happen at them and through them, and whether or not we should start a high school group right away or not, what color the effigy of cami in the church atrium should be...just to name a few. then on sunday there will be an announcement in the brand-new, redesigned bulletin (the one that includes my name on the front after the colon that follows the words "youth pastor")about a parents meeting, then on the 12th of september, a day that will live on in entropy, i will be leading my very first youth group of my thus-far short lived career. hopefully it will go well.
well, well, well. what have we here.
Few things in life are better than takayama. that old beach cabin is where i want to be buried. that, or shot off into space on a shuttle driven by space monkeys. takayama, or tak (pronunciation: tAHk)is one of those places you almost expect to get over as time goes on, but instead you find new things to do, or old things that are still fun. there's this atmosphere about the place. not like "78% nitrogen, 20% oxygen, .93% argon, i'm a huge science nerd" type of atmosphere, but the "i'm gonna sit here in a wet swimsuit reading calvin and hobbes and listening to jack johnson" kinda atmosphere. not really as vital to life as the other one, but it sorta is at the same time. it's very "chill", as all the cool kids on glisan st. would say.
The weather at said beach cabin was perfect. we left just in time to avoid all them pesky typhoons that are coming through this time of year, although they do make for some pretty killer waves. nights were filled with various forms of debauchery, fire jumping, sword-fighting, and the like. one highlight was driving cami around on the back of a jetski. due to his deathgrip on my waist, he succeeded in pulling me off a total of 3 times. we topped 80kmh (49.711999999999996 mph for all you stinking americans out there). the thing was amazing. it's like driving a motorcycle, only there's none of them silly roads. or helmets, for that matter. the third time we fell off, we both actually skipped on the water. but, no blood, no foul.
Now that i'm back from tak, however, i am reminded that life must go on. my life, specifically. i never really realized just how impossibly difficult it is to get all the papers one needs to be a normal, contributing member of society. nothing can happen until i get my religious visa, which i can't get until the missions organization (OMF Int'l) officially approves of every single aspect of my person and sends some other office of OMF an officially written and signed letter on official registered paper which they can then give to some all-knowing, all-powerful japanese potentate, who holds in his (or her) hand the ability to single-handedly approve or deny my pathetic attempts to obtain a religious visa in spite of the horrible oppressive regulations. that done, i can get the paperwork that will allow me to do the other paperwork, that will allow me to get the stamp of my name registered, which i can then use to rent a house, the proof of which is necessary for me to get insured, after which, i may be allowed to walk around on the streets in broad daylight, without people stopping to openly gawk at my obvious lack of the right to filthy their native soil with my very presence.
i may have exaggerated one fact in that last paragraph.
The youth ministry is not going well. in fact, i have not yet intentionally "ministered" to a single youth. which would be bad, if i had started a youth group yet. i'm having my first meeting with some kids tomorrow at a little restaurant named "BLDY'S", which the little american circle of people i hang out with call "Bloodies". really piques your appetite, doesn't it? the 3 kids and i (one of which happens to be my brother brent) will be talking about what the youth groups should do, and when they should do it, and what we would like to see happen at them and through them, and whether or not we should start a high school group right away or not, what color the effigy of cami in the church atrium should be...just to name a few. then on sunday there will be an announcement in the brand-new, redesigned bulletin (the one that includes my name on the front after the colon that follows the words "youth pastor")about a parents meeting, then on the 12th of september, a day that will live on in entropy, i will be leading my very first youth group of my thus-far short lived career. hopefully it will go well.
July 31, 2004
AND NOW
for the much awaited update!!
first, an apology to all you avid reader out there for being as bad at updating as my sister (HA! zing! take that ro!!) speaking of dating, me and yvette are now official, which i'm sure is a real big surprise to anyone who heard i was around, but was unable to locate me due to our frequent private getaways. i submit that you are all just jealous. actually, we've been dating for exactly one week as of today. we were flying over (more on that later) and we crossed the international date line, which gave me this great idea: "how about me and yvette start dating??" so, approaching her, we struck up a casual conversation about the date line, and dating in general, then dating in specifics. when all was said and done, the official begin of our official relationship was behind us, and we traded high-fives in the midst of all them rich business-class passengers.
whenever i fly, something always has to go wrong. it's a rule, and a warning for all of you whose dream it is to travel with me. this time was no exception. flying standby, we were printed fake boarding passes to get us through security and to our gate, where they would ultimately print us real ones. however, since standby travelers are clearly of only the most dangerous ilk, we are herded through to the EXTREME!! Security check. Having narrowly escaped with my life from the EXTREME!! Check i received, i was more than happy to take my ticket when offered to me and proceed post-haste to SeaTac's beloved if not completely outdated subway train, never realizing the stamp on my colleagues tickets was missing on my own. Fortunately for me, the gate agent at the airport did notice this, and refused to allow me to make my presence known on my beloved Boeing Overwater 777 until security had sent an emissary to beg forgiveness, offer a feast in supplication, shine the shoes of everyone on the room, and provide my ticket with the stamp that would allow me passage on the jetway to me awaiting seat. Needless to say, it took a while. in fact, i was held in the terminal until the exact moment of 12:43, a mere 2 minutes before my plane was supposed to be pushing back from the terminal and begin it's taxi to the runway. my relief was completed by falling asleep while waiting for takeoff and waking up when the help had begun to serve the first meal. all this goes to show, you can make me wait to get on the plane, but you can't make me wait to sleep. Stick it to the man!!
well, i'm on my way to the doctor to get some forms that allow me to do some other forms that may or may not prevent my imminent deportation. then i'm off to the non-internet-wired beach cabin until the 14th of august, until which time i will be unable, and also perhaps unwilling, to update this little fact sheet here. i will try to have a good time.
for the much awaited update!!
first, an apology to all you avid reader out there for being as bad at updating as my sister (HA! zing! take that ro!!) speaking of dating, me and yvette are now official, which i'm sure is a real big surprise to anyone who heard i was around, but was unable to locate me due to our frequent private getaways. i submit that you are all just jealous. actually, we've been dating for exactly one week as of today. we were flying over (more on that later) and we crossed the international date line, which gave me this great idea: "how about me and yvette start dating??" so, approaching her, we struck up a casual conversation about the date line, and dating in general, then dating in specifics. when all was said and done, the official begin of our official relationship was behind us, and we traded high-fives in the midst of all them rich business-class passengers.
whenever i fly, something always has to go wrong. it's a rule, and a warning for all of you whose dream it is to travel with me. this time was no exception. flying standby, we were printed fake boarding passes to get us through security and to our gate, where they would ultimately print us real ones. however, since standby travelers are clearly of only the most dangerous ilk, we are herded through to the EXTREME!! Security check. Having narrowly escaped with my life from the EXTREME!! Check i received, i was more than happy to take my ticket when offered to me and proceed post-haste to SeaTac's beloved if not completely outdated subway train, never realizing the stamp on my colleagues tickets was missing on my own. Fortunately for me, the gate agent at the airport did notice this, and refused to allow me to make my presence known on my beloved Boeing Overwater 777 until security had sent an emissary to beg forgiveness, offer a feast in supplication, shine the shoes of everyone on the room, and provide my ticket with the stamp that would allow me passage on the jetway to me awaiting seat. Needless to say, it took a while. in fact, i was held in the terminal until the exact moment of 12:43, a mere 2 minutes before my plane was supposed to be pushing back from the terminal and begin it's taxi to the runway. my relief was completed by falling asleep while waiting for takeoff and waking up when the help had begun to serve the first meal. all this goes to show, you can make me wait to get on the plane, but you can't make me wait to sleep. Stick it to the man!!
well, i'm on my way to the doctor to get some forms that allow me to do some other forms that may or may not prevent my imminent deportation. then i'm off to the non-internet-wired beach cabin until the 14th of august, until which time i will be unable, and also perhaps unwilling, to update this little fact sheet here. i will try to have a good time.
July 22, 2004
i'm leaving for japan in something in the vicinity of 30 hours, which is not something that is really that strange for me. what IS strange is that i won't be coming back. i love my friends, but i have to be constantly reminding myself what this means for our friendship- i'm leaving, and for many of them, we will never know eachother as well as we do now. as time passes, and i visit now and again when i get deported, i will change, people will change, and we will lose that connection that made us such good friends for a short while. i know it's the way of life, and i had to learn this as a young'un, barely knee-high to a row of potatoes, but it's sad to me to be the one that will teach all my younger friends about this fact of life through my relationship, or lack thereof, with them.
not that i don't want to hang with everyone, but if there were ever a limit on how many friends a person could have, i'm definitely pushing the limit. or "jumping the shark" as dusty taught me. you crazy americans and your "culture". i made a "to do" list so i wouldn't forget important things, and i had to also make a "to see" list, so i wouldn't forget to say goodbye or hang out with important people before i go. funny to have "get motorcycle license" up there with "andrew". makes it seems like friends are chores. not the case, but i know i will offend you people if you think i forgot about you. which is clearly not the case, as i'm sitting here typing something for you to read instead of packing.
oh yeah....packing......
not that i don't want to hang with everyone, but if there were ever a limit on how many friends a person could have, i'm definitely pushing the limit. or "jumping the shark" as dusty taught me. you crazy americans and your "culture". i made a "to do" list so i wouldn't forget important things, and i had to also make a "to see" list, so i wouldn't forget to say goodbye or hang out with important people before i go. funny to have "get motorcycle license" up there with "andrew". makes it seems like friends are chores. not the case, but i know i will offend you people if you think i forgot about you. which is clearly not the case, as i'm sitting here typing something for you to read instead of packing.
oh yeah....packing......
June 01, 2003
Rather than give anyone a detailed, and therefore boring, account of what i have been doing up to this point, i will assume that anyone reading this knows everything about me, and save us all the hassle of going through my life story. Unless it is really funny, in which case i will make an exception. That said, today is saturday, which is an important day because i don't work on saturdays. As far as working goes, i don't hate it as much as i thought-probably because i work with a really cool guy named matt. unfortunately, the coolness of matt is balanced out by a general dislike for my other co-worker, who is, well, not someone i would ever hang out with for more than like 30 seconds in the real world. i think there is some unwritten rule about always having at least one guy at your work who you really can't stand. the work itself is great-pretty much we've just been destroying things so far. i've managed to get hurt more times than everyone else combined so far. the first day of work i smashed the tip of my thumb off with a 4-ft crowbar (that's like 1.3 meters, for all you metrics out there) and the second day i stuck a nail all the way into my heel. since then i've managed to bleed everyday, and i hit my shin with a sledgehammer once. my boss is this really cool older guy, and the first-aid thing is in his office. i walk in holding a different part of me and we get to have good conversation for about ten minutes. he used to lecture me, but i think he gave up.
in other news, i have a birthday next week. it's not really that exciting to me, so i don't deem it worthy of an exclamation point. i'll be 23 on the 4th of june, on which day i will also be not working once again. it's not that i hate work, it's just one of those things that makes you like free time that much more-like after you've been hanging out with girls for too long, then you enjoy taking your pants off and watching a movie with guys more than usual. or something.
that's all for now. for good times, and an idea of what college people find hilariously entertaining, find out when it's peanut butter jelly time.
in other news, i have a birthday next week. it's not really that exciting to me, so i don't deem it worthy of an exclamation point. i'll be 23 on the 4th of june, on which day i will also be not working once again. it's not that i hate work, it's just one of those things that makes you like free time that much more-like after you've been hanging out with girls for too long, then you enjoy taking your pants off and watching a movie with guys more than usual. or something.
that's all for now. for good times, and an idea of what college people find hilariously entertaining, find out when it's peanut butter jelly time.
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