God Bless the Good People
I've got half an hour to rip off a post so I'm gonna be liberal
on the editing - please bear with me if this sucker is laden with
grammatical feces.
In wanting to express an epiphanal moment yesterday and
knowing that I had a prime picture to depict this moment
on facebook, I remembered that facebook is now firewalled
from my workplace (damn you nucomm...damn you STRAIGHT
to hades...do not pass go...and may the good Lord have mercy
on your soul). In my utter haste and need for a pic, I remember
that I blogged on myspace in the summer and found this pic
online. The above pic is not the person I am referring to but
oddly enough, the person IN the pic above ties myself and this
person together.
The person in the pic is Jim, or more fondly known as 'Jim the
Cook' or 'Jim the Pentecostal Newfie', etc. He has been the
main culinary master at Camp IAWAH for over a decade. He is
part of the Iawah experience that cannot be removed - a fixture
of the goodness that comes from hard work, steady portioning of
fibre into all foods and loud-mouthed humour. I love Jim and
I'm really looking forward to seeing him.
How Does This Relate to said Person - A Timeline1995: Said person arrived at Camp IAWAH, wore camo pants
and a calgary flames hat. He was very quiet and spent most of
his free time on his top bunk reading Calvin and Hobbes. I didn't
talk to him too much because he didn't say much...but in some odd
way...we connected.
1998: Said person did the leaders in training program after sticking
around Iawah for a few years and started to become loud and wild.
Since loud and wild was my forte at Iawah for that time period, he
fit right in, dyed his hard a horrid colour (as all the homies did) and
spent most the summer on crutches for screwing up his knee.
2001: After working at Iawah for many summers with said person,
having prayer walks with him at night while all kids slumbered in their
cabins and on bell hill, we formed a bond. We spent the early spring
of this year at Iawah together, playing a LOT of tecmo bowl (which
usually included him firing a controller at a nearby wall and droppin'
the F bomb), cleaning buildings on days off and working in the kitchen
with Jim. Said person would hug Jim a lot causing Jim to resist, grab
nearby knives and call said person 'Elton John'.
2006: I stood in his wedding party as his best man.
March 19, 2007: I had a horrible day on the heels of a horrible sleep.
He was online and encouraged me greatly, throwing some needed
sunlight into my sometimes very dark work life. I don't fully know
if he gets what he did...but it meant much to me.
'The most visceral extension of God is seen through people'
I love you Justin.
Last of The Weekend Evening Beacons of Hope
Sometimes things don't go into place. You stay up nights, wondering
if the cyclical thoughts will ever cease. You feel like you have a
million health problems but really, nothing sticks out in a visceral
sense - it's all sort of surreal. You feel buzzing and strangeness
within but nothing can be actually tied to a medical term.
Summation: You are not appreciating all that you have nor are
you living life to the full.
Today is just a really miserable monday experience. People talk about
mondays as if they were quoting lines from a bad movie. Mondays
really do rhyme with 'mundane' and I believe the root of that weekday
word was derived from that colourless adjective. We are all abject
failures in one sense or another - never living up to some unattainable
goal inside of our own minds.
I really considered calling in sick today. I really did.
Sometimes the words fall like mud from the trees of our autumned soul,
sliding out of dusty birds nests, long devoid of life and filled with
parasites. Sun blossom photographs trap loneliness, making us crave
that which we miss instead of admiring all that we've experienced.This pixellated view only makes us crave the whole picture.
Sunday Sedation and Rectal Scariness
As I sit here in my apartment, listening to the subtle throatiness
of the komodo dragon decaf percolate, I am thoroughly enjoying
this sunday evening. Often the weekends are a time where we
push too hard to get things done (fun things, that is) and we end
up feeling exhausted to start off the week. Sarah bought a new
turquoise blue resistance ball for athletic activity and it is sitting
underneath the din of the hallway light, clogging the pathway
to our illustrious 'old-school back-alley' steel fire exit.
Sarah is currently half way through a massive project and I
figured I would blog from home, writing in a more positive
spirit, as I am not always accustomed to doing so from the hazard
that is my occupation. The laundry is tossing around in the dryer;
metal buttons from jeans send the odd scraping 'tink' from the
other room. The computer area we have is in severe disarray
and needs some alterations. Cords run amuck and there is
very little light in this cramped corner of our living room.
I squint at the monitor...and guess at my key strokes.
Nothing much profound is happening in the old noggin today.
I took a dump (sorry ladies or queasy-stomached readers) earlier
today and was quite disgruntled to see traces of pinky red-ness
in and around the fecal material in the toilet water. Blood? I started
freaking - my mind raced to a million dark places. Quickly
though, I remembered what I had eaten at the Harvey's house last
night with dinner...beets. Very red beets.
'Thank you, Lord'.
Looking forward to new ventures.
The ides of March are upon us. Beware.
