A Day Late

And a dollar short.

That's how the saying goes.  In some cases, it isn't always quite a day; sometimes it's two or three.  The concept sure seems to hold though.

As an illustration, I'll probably be going to work at Hutchinson when this school year is over.  I'm not particularly enthused about working there, but such is life.

Recently, though, I had a possible opportunity open up.  One of the guys I know on my RA staff got me a potential in with the company his mom works at.  The location was right (which was kinda huge), the company seemed interesting enough, and the manager I would be working for sounded like a great guy, so I was pretty excited about it.

Then I heard about the last three candidates who had applied for the job.  One didn't show to the interview.  One showed up wearing his pajamas.  One showed up, but his major wasn't even related to engineering.

Basically, if I showed up in a suit, I was in.  I applied right away that night, hopeful that I might have something lining up nicely.

A couple days later, I asked my RA buddy to see what the status of things were.  As it turned out, two days before I'd handed in my app, they'd finally someone else.

Sigh...

Seems that that's the story of this semester.  I can have what I don't want, and I can almost have what I'd actually like, but then I end up a day or two short.

I know it's probably not as bad as I feel like it is sometimes, and maybe I'm just complaining too much, but still, sometimes...

Sigh...

Wretched Device

I'm not exactly the cheeriest person when I wake up.

I'm even less cheery when getting bashed over the head with a large object.  Combine the two together, and it's just not a pretty sight.

This weekend, I had an old friend, Tom, up visiting.  While he was up, he moved the fan that I had in my window (not being accustomed to the semi-arctic conditions that I usually keep my room in) and set it on the heater right below. I didn't think much of it, and it sat there undisturbed for an entire day.

When I turned in for the night, I closed my window blinds and tossed out my blankets on the floor.  In a few minutes, I was pretty much passed out.

Not more than ten minutes after I laid down, though, something big and heavy hits me in the head.  My first thought (for whatever strange reason) was that somebody had smashed me in the head with some large, heavy object, such as a thick textbook.  I'd say that I leapt to that cliche conclusion because I watch to much bad TV, but I don't really watch much TV, so instead I'll just blame it on chronic insanity and a hyperactive imagination.

Regardless, I was ready to jump up and do battle with whatever imaginary foe saw fit to assault me with a textbook in the dead of night.  Only then did I realize that said large, heavy object was still on my head.  I also realized that my head hurt a lot.  Probably because it had just been struck by a large, heavy object. 

I promptly did what any rational person would do when torn from sleep by an unwarranted noggin-assault.

I began hollering creative obscenities and bludgeoning said object into submission.

Only then did I realize that said object was, in fact, my fan.  For whatever reason, it had vaulted off the ledge where it had sat all day and body slammed my unconscious skull into oblivion.

At this point, Tom, who was sleeping above me on my bed-couch, woke up to my raucous shouts.  Our conversation probably went something like this... (any and all inaccuracies will be blamed on my sleep fogged mind and mildly concussed brain)

Me: "*$&%@*#$*{"

Tom: "Dude, what's your deal?"

Me: "Uuuurgh!  My heeaaaad!"

Tom: "What happened?"

Me: "Fan!  Head!  Fall!  Hit!  Pain!  Stupid!"

Tom: "Oh, dude, that sucks."

Me: *gurgle*

Tom: "The wind against the blinds musta pushed the fan over or something."

Me: *gurgle*

Tom: "So are you okay?"

Me: *gurgle* "Yeah.  Head." *gurgle*

Tom: "So is it okay to laugh now?  Cause that was freaking hilarious."

Me: "Yes.  I hate you." *gurgle*

Tom proceeded to laugh at me long and hard, as I doubtless would have done to him were our positions reversed.  The odd thing was that the fan didn't actually hurt me all that much.  It was just a fan (see: not all that heavy), and it didn't land on my face or any of the other squishier bits of my head (no comments from the peanut gallery).  

No, it was more like a moral affront.  I was in a state of bliss and rest, and this fan had the gall to attack me without provocation and drag me kicking and screaming from my tranquil repose.  The nerve.  Well someday, fan, there will be a reckoning between us two.  Until then, enjoy your victory, you wretched device. 

Sweat, Peace, and A Moment With God

"I said not long before that work and weakness are comforters. But sweat is the kindest creatures of the three--far better than philosophy, as a cure for ill thoughts."

 C.S. Lewis got it right, man.

 I'm a runner. I'm not exactly a super dedicated runner like my dad, who trains for marathons and loves running races. To be honest, I've never understood why he (and others in my family) like races so much. They've never appealed to me.

 That's probably reflective of why I run. I don't run for the joy of running or because it's a challenge. I run partly because I want to be in good shape, but the other part of why I run is, much like C.S. Lewis said, as a cure for ill thoughts. I run because it gives me time to think, helps me blow off some steam, and leaves me feeling good and worn out.

 I also prefer running at night to running during the day. It's quieter at night. There's nobody mockingly cat calling me if I take off my shirt to stay cool. The few lights provide a nice ambiance. It's much easier to find peace of mind in the darkness.

 Tonight I went out for a run. I'd been out of the groove for a week or so and even though I'd run yesterday, I needed to keep getting back into it. My mind was a little restless, too; too many troubling thoughts and silly hopes and foolish regrets rolling around upstairs. I needed to get out and sweat it out. I headed out at about 2:30, way after sane people are in bed. It was dark, quiet, and misting rain... perfect.

 As I ran tonight, I stumbled upon a moment of beauty. I was running into the wind, enjoying the soft sting of rain and the cool breeze. The lights were warm and muted, wrapped in blurry orange halos of luminescence. The quiet was broken only be the chill music I was listening to, and even that seemed secondary. For a while, I actually ran with my eyes closed, just savoring the night and the moment. In that moment, I felt the presence of God. It was nothing overt or flashy... it was just a simple reminder of God's peace and presence.

 It's good to know that, even when some things in life don't work out the way you would have liked them to and you're miserable and frustrated and lonely, God is there, in the stillness.