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Today was… eventful.

We have some family that lives out in the country to the southeast of Franktown, Colorado. It's about a ninety-kilometre drive from where we're at. Indeed, it was incredible to spend some time with family. It was fantastic to spend the day engaged in conversation with people who have a mutual background and mutual commonalities even if they are ninety-kilometres away.

So, five hours later after we had eaten too much, talked a good deal and repaired a motorcycle way too many times, we left. We made the voyage all the way back to our home in Arvada. Later in the evening, I saw my parents entertaining the neighbours in our backyard. Neighbours are not family. Where relationships with neighbours might go back a decade, relationships with family go back a lifetime. However, family lives in far away places: Franktown, Tennessee, New England, Arizona… even Hawaii. The neighbours… live next door.

I liken this to internationalisation. Colonialism isn't the means of doing business these days. It would seem that nations are more content with teaming up with other nations working together for their common benefit. However, when you look at the commonalities between nations, it really doesn't correspond geographically. The United Kingdom has much more in common with Australia than it does with France despite the fact that Australia is literally on the other side of the planet and France is just across the channel.

In the United States, we pretty much have the same issue. Specifically, I'm talking about a “certain political scientist” and a “certain senator from Colorado” who are pretty much evil. We have a nation to our south that has incredible potential. It would be mutually advantageous to pursue closer relations with Mexico, but instead, Huntington and Tancredo would have us build a fence and keep each other out. For some reason, we are supposed to do business with nations that lie across oceans while neglecting a nation that borders this one all because they aren't white enough, Protestant enough or English-speaking enough.

I'm really not advocating an extreme here. I'm not saying that this nation should neglect the relationships that have been forged with other nations that might be on other continents. What I am saying is that it needs to stop neglecting the people next door. We need to invite the neighbours over.

Okay, Wimbledon is over.

I know what you might be thinking: it's not even Middle Sunday yet. I'll put it to you this way: Maria lost, so I don't care anymore. Let's just wait until the U.S. Open.

Okay, so, today, I pretty much wasted my time. When I should have been spending the valuable minutes that God in His infinite wisdom bestowed upon me by looking for a job, I decided to utilise it for a much more… useless purpose.

I've been wondering about my speech patterns lately. I've just been wondering about what words I choose to use in my speech patterns. What better way to figure out what words that I've used than to look at all of my weblog posts and to count the frequency of the words that I've used. All that I would have to do is write a program to count each and every one; a project that would only take about four hours!

Yeah, I went ahead and did it. So, what were the results?

1. the — 3,934
2. I — 2,637
3. to — 2,616
4. that — 2,235
5. of — 1,884
6. a — 1,807
7. in — 1,329
8. and — 1,228
9. it — 1,010
10. is — 867

Honestly, I'm disappointed. I had hope that the list of top-ten words would contain cool words like schmuck or garden-variety… you know, the words that I abuse and am known by. So, if there's any word that I am abusing, it's the.

I'm trying to decide the better word to use: tradition or ritual.

Okay, Wimbledon has started back up. As is tradition, I usually follow the ritual of making some sort of post here about my absolute love for Maria Sharapova and how awesome she is simply for no other reason than that I'm in love with her… and the undisputed fact that she is an amazing tennis player.

Why break with tradition? Well… because I've done it too much that it's just lost its value. Still, when you love someone — when you truly love someone — you can't let the fact that you've done something special too many times keep you from doing it. You might be tired of reading about it, but I never get tired of writing about it: Maria Sharapova is the most awesome woman in the world!¹ One day, she's going to be my wife. I know this because I'm going to kill anyone who stands in my way.²

1. Excepting Catherine Zeta-Jones and Norah Jones of course, but even that is debatable. It's important to realise that Maria is the only one of the Hotty Trinity who's still single.
2. I'm kidding of course. Maria can make her own decision.

Okay, here's a post that's not about wastefulness in America.

Not that this part is relevant to anything that I'm going to talk about, but I think that I might of seen my political archnemesis today at a Starbucks. I had to go downtown for an interview today. I panicked and tried to get out the door as soon as I could, and I sped down the highway so that I could avoid the rush-hour traffic. As a consequence, I was there about forty minutes too early. So, I decided to stroll down the Sixteenth Street Mall in Downtown Denver. As I was looking for ways to kill time, I waltzed into a Starbucks. I saw a man in line in front of me who was an exact clone image of Tom Tancredo. Still, I'm not quite sure if it was him because his voice wasn't like his and, for another fact, he was actually very polite, so it couldn't have been him.

Anyway, that's just a little side note.

This evening, I tagged along with my father to go to a church men's event. My father purchased all of the food and made his way over to prepare it all. As he was doing so, I began to wander around the church that I grew up and pretty much spent my entire life in. As I was wandering around, I began to recollect about the old times in the church that I had spent. Really, there were a lot of people missing. I remembered all of the old friends, adolescent crushes and distant relatives that I no longer see because they no longer go to the church. Sure, there are plenty of people who are still there who I've known forever, and they do indeed know me. Still, it just doesn't feel the same anymore. It feels… incomplete.

Do you know the feeling when you walk into a church that isn't your own? I'm not talking about going into a quant little chapel. Most American churches are considerably-sized complexes that have the offices, the Sunday-school classrooms, the youth room always tucked away in the basement, the gymnasium, the kitchen (or, in some cases, three or four kitchens)… For some reason or another, when I walked into my church of twenty-one years this evening, it really didn't seem like it was my church. I felt like I was a stranger in a strange land in a world that was as foreign to me as your old aunt's house that you don't remember whatsoever, but it all seems too familiar anyway.

While I was wandering around the church, I remembered all of the wonderful memories that I had made there: the New-Year's-Eve hide-and-seek games that I lived for every year, that first time I experienced love “medically speaking” (according to Hobbes) and the time that Mason… threw me into a wall.

I was also reminded of why I really don't like my church anymore. On a bulletin board, placed among the items explaining the values and beliefs of our church was a copy of the Pledge of Allegiance. It just boggles my mind how people can connect faith with patriotism. Really, I'm just confused how much faith has become connected with issues that really don't affect our faith: “All good Christians oppose socialism.”, “All good Christians keep their children out of public schools.”, “All good Christians advocate for the United States to become a religious nation.” Really, whatever side one takes on these issues isn't going to make a person better or worse, but it's somehow become connected today, and I seem to be on the loosing end.

I'm torn between staying or leaving. If I stay, I'll be dealing with all of the features that really don't make a good match for me anymore; my beliefs seem to tend more liberal than most in the church. However, I still know people there, and it's never fun going somewhere where nobody knows your name, and you don't know a single soul. Regardless, it doesn't seem likely that I'll be staying in the area for long. If I end up moving, I'll probably need to find a new congregation somewhere.

Tonight, as I was wondering around, I happened to look in the old, gutted sound-system box in the youth room. However, in the bottom of the rack was a diskette. What was significant was that the handwriting on the diskette was mine. Indeed, it was a diskette that I had lost years ago that contained an old puppet-show script of mine from back when I was in middle-school and I assisted in the children's church. When I got home, I was able to transfer the files, and I was surprised that the disk still worked perfectly after eight years. Again, it just reminded me of the old times when the entire group of people who I would have considered friends was there, and when it felt… complete.

It also reminded me of how much of a better writer I've become. Those things sucked!

So, I read the paper today. That's what young, urban wannabe professionals do, right — read the paper?

I made my way to the editorial and opinion section of the Rocky Mountain News. Right there was an editorial about the “latest casualty of [the] soft economy… bottled water.”¹

Okay, I know that I've been ranting and raving lately about the waste of today's society. I know, even I'm getting tired of it. I really wish that I could write about life experiences such as about the finer places in town to eat at and the best wines to go along with it or about the beauty of human intimacy or about the evils of my old high school. Well… I'm broke, nobody likes me and my old high school becomes less funny the more and more that I think about it.² With nothing else to write about and with no job to occupy my time, you're going to hear about bottled water.

Essentially, sales of bottled water have taken an enormous hit. “It appears that common sense and tap water are making a comeback.” The editorial lists the price discrepancy as the main culprit. For example, it costs over four hundred dollars for a year's supply of the cheapest brand of bottled water at standard consumption rates. Compare that with only fifty-one cents per year for garden-variety tap water. I did the math, and that's less then two tenths of a percent!

I'm reminded of a Weekend Update quote from Saturday Night Live a few years ago: “A study by the World Wildlife Fund reveals that bottled water is not any safer or healthier than tap water — just more expensive. The announcement has triggered residents of Beverly Hills to go out and buy thousands of bottles of tap water.”³

Jokes aside, I'm sure that it's important to point out the negative effects of bottled water (besides just being a money drain). As any environmentalist would tell you, one way to reduce the use of energy is to buy locally. Locally purchased products don't involve wasting enormous amounts of fuel to transport products such as food halfway around the world that could be grown in your very own county. With that in mind, think about where bottled water comes from. I know that many advertise as coming from places such as Canada, Argentina and Fiji. Imagine the savings in energy that could be made if you just drank from the faucet. Also, think about the one billion people on this earth who don't have access to clean water. Some of this bottled water is being taken away from those very people in areas where water is a scarcity.⁴

I know that I keep saying that this poor economy is really doing miracles for us as a society in changing our bad habits — even if it is because of cheapbastardism instead of more noble goals. I wouldn't mind having a good economy at all; indeed, I'm trying to find a job in it. Still, it just disappoints me that once the economy recovers, the cheapbastardism that's stimulating our change will disappear, and then we're right back at where we started.

On a side note, with the DNC coming to town in August, I don't know whether I should go downtown to rally with the Democrats or to protest against them. Perhaps I could alternate my schedule on different days.

1. “Latest casualty of soft economy? Bottled water”, editorial, Rocky Mountain News 2008 June 19: 38.
2. Now, it's no longer funny and just plain sad.
3. http://snltranscripts.jt.org/00/00rupdate.phtml
4. http://www.coopamerica.org/pubs/realmoney/articles/waterfilters.cfm — read the bottom of the page.

I have become addicted to something good.

http://www.freerice.com/

I have donated twenty thousand grains of rice.

Custom — it's a word that we use to describe whatever it is that we expect given the circumstances.

Let me give you a situation — see if you can relate: you go into a restaurant and sit at the table. Immediately, you're given a glass of water and then the waiter or waitress asks you what to drink. Does that right there not seem counterintuitive to you?

When you order your food, it arrives and it arrives in huge portions. Of course, you immediately feel satisfied that you got a lot. However, does it not seem ironic that you paid too much for it in the first place? Does it not also seem ironic that most people can barely finish the amounts that they're given? It either goes to waste or ends up in a box that you can take home (which isn't a bad idea — It's certainly better than going to waste).

Also, throughout your meal, your waiter or waitress will probably keep refilling your drinks for you. That might be fine and good, but come the end of your meal, if your glass is still being refilled habitually, guess what? That's right: waste.

These things are custom — the expected norm. Well, they don't work too well. During the drought a few years ago here in Denver, restaurants stopped serving water to their patrons automatically unless they requested it. Of course, when you consider the amount of water spent to irrigate the wonderfully manicured green lawns of suburbia, it's like shooting a hideous monster with a toy dart gun, but at least it was a start. Still, after the drought was over and the snow replenished Denver's reservoirs, the custom of prima aqua once again manifested itself.

The situation in the world today is… well… scary to most Americans. Food costs are going up. Gasoline is going up. Air travel costs are going up. Heating costs are going up… you're getting the trend here, right? Up as in more expensive. Now, this all might be scary to most Americans. Me, I'm delighted! I'm thrilled to know that now that this culture is having to pay more for its extravagance, this culture is going to look to ways to eliminate waste. People are driving less and walking more. People are thinking about buying smaller houses to save on energy costs. Energy providers are looking to alternative methods of energy production that in addition to being cheaper are actually more environmentally friendly. Manufacturers are producing products that use less energy or biodegrade easier.

As much as I am optimistic about the recent changes, I fear that most Americans are just too dumb to know how to make a difference and most of them don't care to find out. I cannot get it through some people's heads how dumb it is to turn on the air conditioning and then open a window. I cannot understand why some people will not recycle when the recycle bins are literally right outside their door.

I hope that things get worse… and I only hope that so that people start to make things better.

I read an article¹ on CNN.com today. It was about the growing trend of the innercity becoming the home of the young, professional types — the people who used to inhabit the suburbs. It struck out to me because I'm seeing the trend in myself.

I hate the suburbs. Everything here is centred around extravagance. It doesn't make sense to me to put everything far apart where it takes so much time to get where you need to me. Still, some people like having the big backyard and the garden. Myself, I think that I'm more of a city person. I'm one who wants to be able to walk where ever I need to go or at least use public transport. Call it environmentalism or cheapbastardism.² Regardless, I think that it's a good trend. I think that it's good that we realise that efficiency in our society should be something that we consider over luxury. Finally, we're getting it.

Also, while we're on the topic of efficiency, with this new software that I'm writing for my website, information that I used to be able to obtain with one one database query now takes 187 queries. I think that I need to rethink something here.

1. http://www.cnn.com/2008/TECH/06/16/suburb.city/index.html
2. Of course, with gasoline at four dollars for a gallon, cheapbastardism isn't that bad of a concept.

Perfection is a ferocious, cruel, savage monster. Perfection has a certain method of taunting us. She's like a mirage in the desert enticing us to soften ourselves in her warm comfort. A mirage is crafted to be the supreme illusion. What good is it if it isn't real? Perfection could be described as everything that a person could ever want and more. However, she's better described as everything that a person will never have, never get and doesn't really deserve anyway. Perfection is like a perfectly-fitting, comfortable winter-weather glove in the middle of summer. Perfection is an adorable sun-dress on an adorable woman in the middle of winter. Perfection is a bottle of Jack Daniel's in a dry county. Perfection is an honest politician who doesn't have a chance of getting elected. Perfection is the most expensive, top-of-the-line game console with the game of the century during a power outage. Perfection is your best dreams. Dreams are seldom real. Perfection is being absolutely, flawlessly fluent in French when everyone else in the room speaks Italian. Perfection is listening to “Free Bird” on the radio only to have the DJ cut the song right before the solo. Perfection is a seven-year-old coming down with a sickness at Disney World. Perfection is free mushrooms and broccoli. Perfection is the perfect-looking pair of shoes that are three sizes too small. Perfection is your best friend marrying the woman of your dreams. Perfection is an empty can of Coca-Cola. Perfection is the new toy that you get for Christmas that the neighbour breaks before you even get the chance to play with it. Perfection is downloading the best film in the world only to find out that it's only the audio. Perfection is the exciting, climactic book that you have to read for class only to have the professor spoil the ending for you. Perfection is a digital camera whose batteries die before taking a beautiful photograph. Perfection is a dead, rich grandmother. Perfection is the name that you wish your parents named you. Perfection is hope: hope that one day, things will be better. That's not a bad thing to hope for, but, when it doesn't happen, hope is worthless.

I wish that I was here!

So, today, I went into downtown Denver for a job interview. On the way there, I took 72^nd Avenue between Kipling and Wadsworth.

Now, let me explain a little bit of history about this road. On the Denver street grid, the important roads are eight roads away from each other: 56^th, 64^th, 72^nd, 80^th, 88^th and so on. However, for the longest time, 72^nd Avenue didn't go through from Kipling to Wadsworth. Even then, the road didn't go through much past Wadsworth to Pierce. If none of this is making sense to those of you that don't live in Denver, I'll come to the point. My lovely, adorable, Pentecostal church that I attended since before I can remember and until I left for college¹ sits right on top of the hill where 72^nd Avenue and Wadsworth Boulevard meet. For years, the citizens of the City of Arvada tried to pass measures that would allow the city to put forth the funding to make the street go through. Just about every time that the measure was on the ballot, it failed.

It seemed that the congregation in our church wanted that street to go through. After all, if 72^nd became a major road instead of just a minor street, the church would have more exposure. Somehow, more exposure meant that more people would come to church and more souls would get saved! Does that seem like pretty solid logic to you? It really shouldn't. Regardless, it's no sin to be of an opinion that a road should go through… unless the situation were more complicated.

There is a woman that I am indebted to. I'm indebted to her because she taught me both Spanish and French when I was in high school. Sure, it was her job to teach us, but her instruction was invaluable. So, how does she fit into this discussion about 72^nd Avenue? Her property sat right where the road needed to go through. In order for the road to go through as planned, the city was going to practice the practice of eminent domain — forcing the party to sell the property for public utility. Essentially, the barn on her property had to be torn down to accommodate the road.

Now, see if you can recognise the dilemma here: one congregation wants a road to be built for supposedly spiritual reasons at the expense of someone else's property. Looking back, it just didn't seem right that we were pushing for something as a congregation (not officially, of course) all while knowing what it was going to cost someone for purposes that really didn't matter and really not caring about it.

I once promised my teacher that I out of respect for her, I wasn't going to use the road. She laughed and said that she didn't care one way or another if I used the road. I obviously didn't keep that promise.

A glass of water sounds good right now.

1. Since I'm not a Pentecostal anymore, I really don't know why I still go there. Maybe I like the people there; that must be it.

I don't personally profess to have any outstanding love for Roger Federer (unlike Maria Sharapova whom I would marry in a second if given the opportunity), but once, just once and only once, I would like to see him win at Roland Garros. It just seems to me that a man that great at tennis (and no one can deny that he isn't one of the best tennis players that the world has seen) deserves to win a complete career Grand Slam. Besides, Nadal is kind of, well…

…unique.

Well, I've been in Colorado now for less than a week. I've been looking around for some jobs, and I've gotten a couple of responses already. Beside the point, it's actually kind of nice to be here back in Colorado. It's a place that carries a lot of memories with it.

The highlight of this week? That would have to be getting together with some of my old friends from high school. I was really looking forward to it. These were people that I hadn't seen in three and a half years. I was looking forward to catching up with each other and finding out was was different with everyone after these years. Still, I knew that despite those three and a half years of separation, the conversation would eventually devolve into talk of those few years that we spent at that place that we all knew and loved and hated: Maranatha Christian Concentration Camp in Arvada, Colorado.

Well, the conversation actually went… pretty much like that. We said our hellos. We expressed how awesome it was that we were all twenty-one now.¹ Everyone commented how Tom and I were going bald. Trish called me “creepy”². Lottie confessed that she was now a practising Buddhist after she got offended when I gave a prayer before our meal (obviously a joke³). Then, really, it devolved into our hatred of MCC talk.

Gosh, we must have talked about stuff for hours. Gosh, we talked about getting kicked out of Bible class, staff members having sex in the copier rooms, almost getting suspended for saying gosh, taking a stack of pancakes along with a stolen jar of syrup from either an IHOP or Village Inn and bringing it to a teacher, staff members having a vasectomy reversed,⁴ and, finally, a certain couple who sneaked out of class to make out in a closet.⁵

I hated Maranatha. It was a ridiculous exercise in Christian Fundamentalism… the type that I've come to despise. Despite the fact that I despised Maranatha as much as I did, I've come to realise that if I had the chance to go back and change things, I don't think that I would. Experiences such as Maranatha have taught me so much more than I ever could have learned from my own imagination. Being put through suffering has caused my mind to ponder upon some deeper questions that often don't get the attention that they deserve. If it weren't for Maranatha, I doubt that I would be the advocate against Fundamentalism that I am.⁶

Regardless, even if the learning wasn't worth it, I came out of it with some of the best people in the world.

I can't complain… except for the fact that I had hair back then and don't now.

1. I tried an IPA for the first time that night. I highly recommend getting one.
2. I don't know if she meant serial-killer creepy or sexual-predator creepy. I'll have to ask her the next chance that I get.
3. However, the basic tenets of Buddhism were summarised that evening as “common sense”. Not having studied Buddhism… sure… I guess.
4. I laughed my ass off about this one for a few minutes.
5. You know who you are! Come clean!
6. Still, I think that JBU played a role in that as well.